Page 76 of Puck Your Feelings
Becker kisses like he does everything else.
Chaotically.
Enthusiastically
And with absolute zero inhibition.
His tongue slides against mine, and then he's nipping at my lower lip, drawing it between his teeth in a way that makes me groan embarrassingly loud.
"Fuck, you're so hot when you make that noise," he murmurs against my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck.
I'm losing my mind. Officially.
My cock is throbbing, leaking in my shorts, and I push my hips up desperately, seeking more friction, more pressure.
More everything.
"I want—" I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I just know I need more.
Becker grinds down harder, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you want."
I can't find the words. I’m not even sure I have the words. And so I let my body do the talking.
I grab his ass with both hands—firm and muscular and perfect—and pull him tighter against me, intensifying the pressure right where I need it most.
"That works too," he laughs breathlessly, then groans as I squeeze his ass harder.
All pretense that this is just kissing is gone.
We're dry humping, rutting against each other fully clothed, and it should be ridiculous, but isn’t. Instead, it's the most intense experience of my life.
Becker breaks the kiss suddenly and lifts his hips up, creating a few inches of space between our bodies. The loss of contact is physically painful, and I make a noise of protest that I'll definitely be embarrassed about later.
"If this is too much—" he starts, his voice ragged and uncertain. Like he's giving me an out.
"Shut up," I growl, hooking one leg around his middle and yanking him back down.
His surprised laugh turns into a moan as our cocks press together again, and then we're back at it again, the pressure building with each thrust of our hips. I feel like I'm about to float away, my entire body humming with a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
"Oh, fuck. I'm gonna—" Becker's voice is strained, his rhythm faltering.
"Yeah," I pant, gripping his ass tighter, pulling him harder against me. "Don't stop."
He captures my mouth in another kiss, swallowing my moans as the pressure builds to an unbearable level.
I'm dimly aware I'm about to come in my pants like a fifteen-year-old, but I'm too far gone to care.
When it hits, it hits like a freight train.
My orgasm rips through me with a force that makes me arch off the bed, my cock pulsing as I come, harder than I've ever come in my life. Becker follows seconds later, his body going rigid above me, his groan muffled against my mouth as he grinds through his own release.
Then he collapses half on top of me, his weight a warm, solid presence, both of us panting like we just finished a skate from hell.
My head is spinning, my thoughts a jumbled mess.
I just made out with a guy.
I just came in my pants from making out with a guy.
