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“Mmm.” He licks the underside and seals his lips over the tip, and even though he’s sucking gently it feels like he’s pulling every nerve ending, every brain cell, all my oxygen into my cock, so that the only thing I’m capable of feeling is his wet heat on my shaft. “Taken this full, fat dick all the way down their throat.”
“I don’t think…” I can’t get even get the words out before his nose is brushing against my pelvis, his throat constricting around my length. He pulls back and does it again. And again. Taking me deeper than I thought possible and making gurgling, squelching sounds as he coats me with his saliva.
When he mentioned pounding into him earlier, I assumed he meant the other hole, not the one he needs to breathe. As deep as I am, my cock has to be choking him, yet I can’t seem to find the strength to pull away. The sight of him on his knees, mouth stretched wide around me, is more captivating than I expected it to be. The sloppiness of it is carnal even though the act of taking me into his body is beautiful, a contradiction I can’t look away from.
Moving on autopilot, my abs flex as my dick spears between his lips while his eyes flutter in some sort of hedonistic bliss… I’m engulfed in a vortex of pleasure and emotion, a fog of ecstasy unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t tell if I’m floating or falling, groaning or whimpering. All I know is both my body and mind are reeling, overwhelmed by what Tripp’s doing to me.
Rocking onto the balls of my feet, I chase his mouth, yelping when he unexpectedly gives my sac a firm tug and pulls off me with a ‘pop.’
“Don’t be greedy, champ. I want that cock in my ass before you bust that nut.” He stands up and takes his pants off as I kick mine away from my feet, crawling onto the bed on all fours. Even with the jersey hanging off his lean frame, I can see his dick hanging between his legs. Before I can take it in my hand, he flicks his head toward the pants crumpled on my floor and says, “There’s lube in my back pocket. Get yourself nice and slick.”
I fish the lube out and slather it over my dick while Tripp eyes me ravenously, biting his lip to stifle a moan as he watches my fist slide along my length. It’s a show he’s undoubtedly put on before, but I let myself indulge in the fantasy that it’s just for me. That only I can make him so desperate.
Once I’m coated in the gel, I step behind him, but instead of pushing inside I take his cock in my hand and stroke him slowly, noting how it makes him arch his spine as he pushes into my grip. “Trying to get me to catch up?”
“Not really.” I swipe my thumb over his slit and give him a few languid pumps. “You said you like having your dick played with, so…”
“If you hadn’t made me wait two weeks for your cock I wouldn’t object, but since you deprived me of all cocks except yours, I’m not feeling very patient. Now put your hands on my hips and give it to me.”
Though I fully expected Tripp to honor my request not to sleep around while he’s sleeping with me, the fact that he basically admitted he’s mine—for now—while wearing my name on his back erases all my restraint.
I line myself up, nudging just the crown of my dick inside his hole. Then I grip his hips and thrust forward.
The cry that rumbles from his throat is filled with both need and relief, a strange mix of satisfaction and yearning. I want to savor it, but the pressure that engulfs my dick makes it impossible to think of anything beyond staving off my release.
“God, how are you tighter?” I rasp, chest heaving as I try to fill my lungs with the air they can’t seem to hold. I tried to recreate the feeling of Tripp’s body with my hand, to recapture the sensations I’m feeling now without being buried inside him. I could never get my fist tight enough. Or hot enough. I’d always end up feeling empty. Unfulfilled.
Fuck…, being joined to him, I’m basically in free fall, spiraling uncontrollably as I struggle not to lose control.
“Maybe you’re bigger.” His voice helps to ground me. “My blow jobs must agree with you.”
“Ungh,” I half-grunt, half-laugh, fighting back a burst of euphoria that ripples through me when he shifts his weight. “Hold still.”
“Can’t,” he strains.
“Fuck,” I grumble and take a deep breath, holding it as I pull back and tentatively push forward. Despite the give of his warm channel, the easy acceptance of my intrusion, his ass is so tight the pressure is dizzying.
My eyes roll back in my head as my legs quake with the effort to stay upright, which is sort of terrifying, given that strong legs are a basic requirement of my job. Yet, not even the hundreds of pounds I squat make my thighs tremble as much as they are right now.
“Harder, big guy. Don’t hold back.” Tripp taunts me with a daring glance over his shoulder, and as much as I want to savor this encounter, I want to please him even more.
I flex my fingers and grip his hips, widening my stance to the same athletic position I use in goal when I need ready access to speed and power. Then I start to move.
My hips piston forward, spearing my length into his warm, wet hole as I use my arms to pull him to me. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin is a steady drumbeat around us, and his frantic moans are the melody.
Tremors of ecstasy ripple along my shaft as I give it to him, culminating in a hefty twitch each time I sink to the hilt. My abs blaze as they coil and release again and again, biceps smoldering from the near violent push and pull as I strain to fit my body into Tripp’s.
“Fuck, you’re gonna split me in two. Don’t stop.”
Beads of sweat trickle down my chest, along my abs, pooling at the base of my groin, already damp from the lube dripping out of Tripp’s ass. It occurs to me not only that sex has never been this messy before, but that I like it this way. Loud and wet and uninhibited.
The only thing that could make it better is seeing Tripp’s face. The way his eyes get heavy with lust as his orgasm builds. How his lean chest heaves when he starts panting. How his lips part just slightly when he moans.
Seeing my name on his back is thrilling in its own way, but it can’t compete with watching the man come undone in front of me.
That memory has pleasure engulfing me, threatening to tip me over the edge long before I want it to. I run drills in my mind, stopping imaginary pucks in an attempt to convince myself that I’m not about to find heaven. But not even hockey can distract me from the notion that it doesn’t just feel good, but right, to give my body to Tripp. Like it should belong to him, if he wants it.
That thought makes me falter slightly, not out of fear so much as worry that he wouldn’t appreciate such a revelation. But it’s enough that he notices the shift in my movement.
