A gay sex story: Merrit’s Merits Ch. 03. A young man closed a door behind himself, cheeks taking on a coccineous tone as he peered down at his extremities. It throbbed against his abdomen, traitorously. He sighed out a frustrated, unrelaxed breath. Every footstep toward his bed carried confusion and reluctance.
A gay sex story: Merrit’s Merits Ch. 03
His broad shoulders were tense. His hair was bristling with gel and fear. Goosebumps travelled across his back and up his neck. His pale, slender jeans felt tighter. His buttocks clenched.
Why did that happen? What’s wrong with me? I surely don’t have feelings for Tyler.
The hands at his hips, lowering his waistband, were his own.
I’ll be a better judge of this after I’ve had some release, the young man told himself. Sitting down, half-naked, he let his imagination take over. He pictured the young man that would lift his shirt off his eager chest and lay upon him with loving abandon. He imagined the sensations he’d feel as he was lowered down against the bed, his name whispered in his ear, “Merritt…”
“Merritt,” says the voice, arms enfolding me…
With one hand, he touched his neck where he imagined this other man kissing him. And with the other, wrapped around the shaft of his erect penis, he stroked it as he would want the man in his mind to stroke him.
“Merritt, you taste so fine,” the voice tells me. “You’re finer than any cologne, perfume or deodorant. I don’t want to lose this scent between us.”
“Uggahhh,” Merritt groaned, as his dick throbbed in his hand. He brought his left hand down to join the right, and increased his pace.
“I’m going to kiss you wherever I want to, until you deliver that load for me, for us.”
“Don’t stop yet,” he whispered to himself, trying not to moan louder, lest it be heard through the walls.
“I won’t, my darling beau,” he tells me, while his hands stroke my fullness. And he bends down, gentle eyes looking in mine as his mouth descends upon my glans and —
He felt it, wet against his head as it dripped into his foreskin: pre-ejaculate.
He growls at me as he sucks, removing his hands and going down upon my length…
Merritt’s frown frots together. His face contorts. A silent moan stops, lodged in his throat. His breath becomes heavy.
“I can take it, darling,” he says to me, before going down on me again. I grab his head by the sides, hands running through his sideburns and into the short hair that bristles at the nape of his neck. I begin to thrust my hips into his tight, wet lips, pleasure rising within me.
“Ughhh!” Merritt groaned.
In the distance, the doorbell rang. Merritt ignored it, knowing that at least Tyler was home and would get it. He continued to daydream.
The man’s tongue begins to panic against my shaft. His eyes become frantic. His nose stiffens as it brushes through my trimmed pubes. He clenches his brow, as if he can’t take me anymore.
In his hands and the wide space between them, Merritt’s generously proportioned erection throbs, as more precum drips down its swollen, shining glans.
And I keep pounding his face, holding him on me. And because he knows I’ll do the same for him, he holds fast and takes all he can for as long as he can, into the depths of his aching, hungry throat.
He withdraws for an instant, unable to cope without a quick breath through his mouth instead of his nose, and then goes down on me again with a loving wink.
I toss my head back and groan, then I slide my legs around his shoulders and place them against the back of his neck.
He twists his skull from side to side, around my dick, his urge to finish me off holding him to me. He can smell the precum, and it makes him eager for the taste of my cum when I will finally pull away from him.
But not yet!
I force him down as far as he will go on my dick, my legs and hands tight on his head. And with my hips, I throttle my body against him. He’s choking. He’s gagging. He’s puking. My dick is throbbing. My dick is aching. My balls are tightening. I need release. He needs release.
I release him.
He comes off it, tears steaming from his eyes. He gasps and gulps for air.
My throbbing dick is glistening with his saliva, bile and mucose.
A gentle knock on Merritt’s bedroom door goes unnoticed.
“Fuck!” is all he can say, as his hungry eyes feast upon me. But we’re not fucking. We’re making love — or as close to it as we can.
I smile, and then force him down on it again, knowing I will enjoy it immensely when he turns the table and forces me to do the same to him. But for now, it’s my turn. I grapple my legs onto him again, and command him to suck my eager cock.
He complies, despite the tears in his eyes. Eyes that sparkle with delight. It feels great. He continues to suck, harder and harder, only slowing when he feels me throb.
I can tell, he’s deliberately edging me. It’s in the playful glances and the tight way my balls hug at the base of my shaft, brushing up against his soft goatee.
Another knock is made upon Merritt’s door.
But I’m in no mood to be edged. I need his love to spin the cum out of me. I push him down upon me and my back arches over his head as I hold it down. There’s no room in his tight, white gullet for my dick to throb, but we can both feel the cum dripping down his throat.
His hands clench against my hips.
I set him free, and he is rewarded with the fruity, sweet taste of my jizz trailing through his mouth as my dick withdraws.
He looks at me with eyes I’ve not imagined, rather eyes I have remembered. And he says to me in a familiar voice, “What’s wrong?” while rolling towards me on a desk chair.
Merritt opens his eyes, and looks down at the load of ejaculate strewn across his shirtless chest and torso. In reaching for a pair of tissues to clean it up with, he admits to himself that his fantasy was taking on Tyler’s likeness. It was unnerving. That was a living arrangement and a friendship that he didn’t want romance or sex hindering. It was a love that, like Keisha’s love for him, was taking on awkward new forms.
A third knock came at the door.
“Gimme a minute!” Merritt bellowed, as he wiped up the rest of his spooge and grabbed his t-shirt. He put it on, and rushed to the door. He pulled it open, and sighed in relief to realize it was not Tyler. John.
“Hello, Merritt,” said the guy who had been knocking on his door. “Did I catch you at a bad time? I can come back after lunch if you need me to.”
“Umm… no, I’m fine,” said Merritt, as he recalled his last conversation with John in the student centre on campus, after having submitted a video game review piece to the paper. “What’re you here for, uhmm… it’s John, right?”
The visitor nodded. “I have an assignment for you, for the paper, if you’re willing to oblige us yet again.”
“I don’t have much schoolwork right now, I can probably handle it. Depends what it is, I suppose,” answered Merritt.
“Well, let me be frank. The paper didn’t send me to you for your writing talent. There’s a new hangout that’s opened up, a stone’s throw from the edge of campus, and I want you to write a review of the venue.”