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There wasn’t much choice as far as off-campus housing went. I knew I didn’t want to stay in the dorms, no matter how much my friends ribbed me for becoming a recluse; no amount of college camaraderie made up for shitting in a stall next to a complete stranger for four years. I also didn’t want to get a boner in front of some hot guy passing through who had the confidence (and body) to flaunt what he had. I felt certain that it was easy to pick me out as gay by my voice and face—aforementioned friends like to call it “gayby face”—and I didn’t want to deal with accusations of coming onto straight guys. (Mostly it was the horrific idea of having explosive diarrhea in what basically equated to a public restroom.) So, off-campus housing it was. Unfortunately for my parents, a lot of the “living experiences” tailored for college students seemed on the higher end of acceptable living expenses. I searched high and low for ads from people in and around town who were looking for roommates. That’s how I came across Russ.
I called him up, we chatted a bit, and then he invited me over to have a look at the apartment. He explained that his current roommate had graduated the semester before and he had gotten way in over his head by assuming he could just take on the rent by himself for the rest of undergrad. I thought, “Oh hey, cool, another student.” I thought maybe I could have the best of both worlds: a private bathroom and swapping college life stories with another undergrad, albeit a slightly older one.
My jaw dropped when he opened the door.
Russell Wyatt looked like he could eat me for dinner and that still wouldn’t sate his appetite. His arms (delightfully furred in black) threatened to rip his T-shirt sleeves apart, and I wasn’t sure how he even managed to get it on over his chest. His torso tapered into his waist, and gray sweatpants rode low on his hips. I could see the black waistband of his underwear and my inner slut wanted to be that pair of briefs (or boxer briefs, maybe he liked those instead) hugging that crotch. Even better: in them. Not only did his clothing tantalizingly hint at untold treasures underneath, but his five o’clock shadow and steel gray eyes accentuated his drop-dead handsome face and completed the package of the man I would build at a Build-a-Stud Workshop.
I was fucked, and likely not by him.
He welcomed me in with a warm smile, offered me a bottle of water, and showed me around the apartment. It was a decent two-bedroom one-bathroom setup; I wasn’t sure if the clean presentation was a result of having to show me the living space or if he was actually that tidy. I liked the laminate flooring. The furniture was okay. He already had a TV. Nothing screamed “serial killer,” and by any measure I should’ve jumped on the offer immediately, but what held me back was the prospect of living with Russ for at least a year, if not more. I didn’t know if my dick could take all the furious fapping I would have to indulge in just to be an ordinary human being around a living, breathing embodiment of Adonis.
Russ sat me down at the table and we talked some more. He was charming about the small talk but I could tell he was using it as a roommate interview. We liked some of the same TV shows, diverged slightly on video games (him: action shooters; me: not action shooters), and agreed that most vegans were doing it for the profile likes as opposed to needing that strict diet for dietary concerns. (Him: majoring in nutrition; me: undeclared.)
I liked him too much from the half-hour with him that I knew he would be a constant source of blue balls for me; it’s easy to deal with someone’s attractiveness when they’re an asshole, and not so easy when they’re the total package. Russ could sense my hesitation. He quirked an eyebrow, turned his head quizzically, and asked, “What’s the deal?”
I couldn’t tell Russ that I wanted to throw him to the ground and ride him like a bucking bronco, so I said the next best thing: “I’m gay.”
“And, what, you think I’m not gonna be okay with that?”
I meekly nodded, and thought maybe that would get me off the hook, that he would toss me out and he would just star in my nighttime fantasies. Instead, he grinned. “I just care if you’re clean and if you can pay rent.”
My friends, or at least the straight girls and gay boys, thought I had lucked into the perfect situation. Erica begged me to come up with an excuse for her to show up, makeup perfectly done and wearing kartal çıtır escort the sexiest ensemble she could throw together, and have a shot at bedding him. The more resourceful ones of our group quickly located one of his social media profiles and had a little too much fun scrolling down his page filled with shots highlighting his gym-perfect physique, various meals, and his girlfriend, Paige.
I deflated slightly at Paige’s existence. Then I reminded myself that it was another sorely-needed roadblock between me and Russ. I didn’t need to subconsciously flirt with him, or do anything that would jeopardize my newfound living situation. I just needed to be a good roommate, no matter how much I fucked him with my eyes.
Paige, however, enabled me to live vicariously through her by way of being an extremely responsive—and at times vocal—girlfriend. The first time I saw them scamper into his room, I figured they would respect that I was also there and keep it quiet; can’t blame a red-blooded male for wanting sex, especially if his girlfriend was in the exact same mood. I don’t know what he did to her but I swear she hit high notes like she was Mariah. I cringed and turned up the volume on the TV, hoping that would give them the message—only to turn it down when I could hear his grunts. I imagined him standing at the foot of the bed, holding her legs in the air as he thrust powerfully into her, sending tingles all over her skin that caused those high-pitched gasps and cries for more. My dick thickened in my jeans and I shifted, trying to focus on a dead body dissolving in a barrel of acid instead of my horniness.
They quietened after a low, desperate grunt from Russ. I knew that meant he had finished, whether inside her or on her, and it took every fiber of my being not to run into my room and jerk off at the image. I turned on the subtitles on the TV, staring intently at every word on the screen in the hopes that it would distract me enough to forget about what I just heard.
Not long after, I heard the door open and close. I willed myself to concentrate on the TV, alternating between wanting to see what a freshly-fucked Russ might look like and preferring to avoid seeing Paige in the same state. The sound of a cupboard, a clink of glass, the faucet running. Then, a soft “hey, Joe” to my right. Russ—wearing only a pair of gym shorts—grinned sheepishly at me, a half-empty glass in his hand. I knew he had a hairy chest and abs from creeping on his profile photos, but photos and reality aren’t the same; he looked good, way too good, in front of me instead of on my phone’s screen. I wanted to nuzzle into his chest and inhale what I was positive would be his intoxicating musk.
“Sorry about that,” Russ said. “Paige can be enthusiastic.”
“It’sokay,” I quickly replied, then took a breath to calm myself. “It’s okay. It, uh, happens.”
“I just want you to know that you don’t have to avoid bringing a guy home because of me. You live here too.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I blurted. I could feel my face redden. “I mean, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky one of these Friday nights.” He winked and I could feel my dick become as hard as steel while the rest of my limbs felt like jelly. “I’m going to bed now. See you in the morning.”
I think I rubbed myself raw that night.
This pattern—Paige moaning, me hiding, Russ apologizing, me masturbating—continued for a couple of months, and my balls began feeling like they would soon produce nothing but puffs of air at the rate I was emptying them. Until at last, a glorious respite-because they broke up.
As much as I enjoyed feeling well-hydrated now that all the liquid in my body wasn’t going towards producing semen, it contrasted with the low mood Russ displayed. From what I could tell based on continued social media creepery, Paige decided to break up with Russ because she wanted to live out the rest of her college experience untethered to any one man, and the feeling wasn’t mutual. I understood Paige’s reasoning but thought she was insane for giving up Russ. He was definitely the kind of guy who would fuck your brains out then give you a tender after-sex massage on a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace.
We weren’t so close that I made a concentrated effort to cheer up Russ but I tried to be friendlier and gave him a wide berth. He didn’t sit me down and talk out his feelings, or take kadıköy yabancı escort any anger or resentment out on me. He would just offer a small smile as appreciation and hole up in his room. I felt bad for the guy.
One day, I came home from class and the apartment was empty. It was a Thursday, and normally Russ would be around. I didn’t mull on it too long—it wasn’t like he was my boyfriend and he needed to account for all hours of his day—and set myself up at the kitchen table to do some homework that I procrastinated on. As the shadows grew longer, I started wondering where Russ had gotten to. It didn’t seem like him to be gone for so long, and he had been good enough to let me know when he’d be out of town for the weekend, visiting family or friends; leaving unexpectedly seemed out of character, but then again, he had just broken up with his girlfriend.
I decided to fire up an episode of a TV show, just as a quick nightcap, when Russ stumbled in. I guessed he had been drinking based on his slight wobbliness and inability to get the key into the lock the first couple of attempts. He saw me on the couch and motioned to the TV. “Don’t get up ’cause of me.” His speech wasn’t completely slurred so as to suggest a blackout but he definitely had had a few. Russ grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim with water, downed it, then filled it up again. He saw me navigate over to a comedy show and seemed to brighten. “Can I join?”
I scooted over on the couch to give him enough room; I didn’t want to seem like I wanted to be in his personal space, which was the truth, but he didn’t need to be aware of that. I pressed play and you’d think he hadn’t a worry in the world, he laughed so raucously. It was slightly bizarre. He had been moping around all week, and now 20 minutes of a comedy was enough to distract him?
As the credits rolled, he murmured some words. I turned and asked what he said, and he cleared his throat and said in a louder voice, “I said, thanks for putting up with me.”
I shrugged. “Break-ups are hard. I’ve been there too.”
“Did you love him?”
I thought about it. “I don’t really think so. He was horny, and I was horny, and we fucked like rabbits. And we said the L-word. But I don’t think it was ever really going to last.” I hadn’t expected to open up like that to him, if ever, but something about his drunken state made me feel comfortable; I liked seeing him be vulnerable.
Russ slammed a fist into the couch, and though the result was muffled, I still jumped at the dull noise. “I told her! I told her and it wasn’t enough!”
“You told her that you loved her?”
“She says to me, ‘Russ, we’re young. Russ, I want to see other people. Russ, get to know other people.’ Fuck. It’s not what I want.”
“You can’t make her feel the same way.”
“I thought I made her feel what I felt. Shit, man, whenever we had sex, I thought she felt it too.”
Though the tone was more wistful than randy, the image of his flexing granite-like ass as he pumped in and out of a dimly-defined body on a bed perked my dick up. I shifted and hoped that my growing boner wouldn’t be too obvious. I hoped he wouldn’t continue the topic.
“You know, man?” Russ asked. “You know what I mean?”
“I guess? I mean, all the sex I’ve had has been pretty good.” I paused. “I don’t know if any of it was enough to make me feel like he needed to put a ring on it.”
“Fuck, man. That’s the best feeling.” He shifted in his seat and I thought I saw him move to adjust his bulge; it could’ve been wishful thinking. “Really giving your all to a girl. Filling her up and all of that heat.”
“I, uh, wouldn’t know. Gay and all.”
He gave me what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. I tried not to fall into his knowing look, those eyes were so intense. “Doesn’t matter, right? A hole’s a hole.”
It felt like I was being dropped into a porno; that was as blatant a come-on as any I had seen in my multitude of hours browsing porn videos. And yet, I didn’t want to take the bait, if that’s what it in fact was. There was no way to be sure.
“I don’t know about that,” I stammered. “Vaginas have never been my thing.”
“Man, when you sink in, it’s just so hot and tight, her pussy grabbing you and it feels like she doesn’t want to let go.” He tugged at his crotch; there was no mistaking the prominent bulge there. “I love that feeling, man.”
I shifted kadıköy genç escort again, hoping to find some way to conceal my own boner. “Uh, okay.”
Russ grinned lazily at me. “So, what? You a bottom?” I froze. I never expected to hear my Build-a-Stud roommate even reference gay sex, much less ask what my own preference was. “I’m in the know,” he continued. “I get gay sex. I’ve watched gay porn once or twice.”
My mouth dried up. “You have?”
“Just to see what it was like. Be openminded and all of that shit, right?” The lazy grin never left his face.
“What did you think?” My dick was leaking copious amounts of precum into my underwear just thinking about Russ watching two dudes fucking. No—watching them fuck, then pulling his cock out and stroking it to two dudes fucking. It was enough to make me delirious with horniness.
“Not really my thing. But there was something really hot about watching a guy submit to another guy like that. Letting him fuck his face, letting him fill him up with his hard cock, taking his jizz.” Russ openly stroked his bulge, reliving the memory. “That was fucking hot.”
I was like a deer in headlights. “I think so too.”
“Is that what you like? A man taking control of you?”
“Do you want to suck me off?”
Oh, fuck. “Yeah, Russ. I do.” I thought he might never offer again, and it might force me to move out and find somewhere else to live, but in that moment I was thinking only with my dick, not with my brain, and it wasn’t often that a jacked, muscular stud like Russ was offering his cock for my willing mouth.
“Get on your knees.”
Russ worked on unzipping his jeans and fishing his cock out as I got between his legs. And when he pulled it out, my eyes widened: Russ possessed one of the best cocks I had ever seen. It was easily at least eight inches long, thick, and throbbing with need. A pearly drop of precum snaked down his shaft. I wanted to remember that night forever, the night I gave head to my hot as fuck roommate with the massive cock.
“Get sucking, Joe.”
Hearing him command me to take him into my mouth caused my hand to reflexively stroke my own aching need, still clothed. I wrapped my free hand around his shaft, feeling it throb in my hand, feeling the heat radiating off it. I think he knew the effect he had on me because he still had that lazy grin on his face as he gently guided me towards the head. I gave it a couple of tentative licks, tasting the mildly salty liquid there, and he groaned appreciatively. Did Paige ever do that for him? Did she get on her knees and worship Russ like the stud he was?
If she had, I would do it better. I had only one shot.
I quickly took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could—no easy feat, considering his ample size—and Russ’ hand gripped the back of my head, letting out a deep sigh of pleasure. I bobbed up and down, working his girthy shaft with my hand where my mouth wasn’t, slathering it up with spit. Both of his hands were tangled in my hair, and soon he held my mouth in place as he pumped. I made sure to work my tongue as quickly as I could all around his cock, and his growing moans let me know I was doing a good job.
Russ’ breathing increased. “Joe, I’m about to cum.” He made to pull me off but I wasn’t going to let him do that. I wanted him, all of him, and he wasn’t going to deny me what I needed. I wrested his hands from my head and quickly took him fully—all eight inches of steely hard flesh. Russ gasped in surprise and I felt him shoot jet after jet of hot cum straight down my throat. The sensation was incredible, and I moaned appreciatively to let him know, which seemed to heighten his sensation.
His breathing slowed, but it was still heavy. I pulled back and allowed his spit-slick cock out with a light pop. I burned the masculinity of it into my brain, the way it proudly jutted into the air, the way the veins criss-crossed the skin, the way it had filled up only a part of me but I was desperate for more.
Russ weakly sat up and looked down. “That was fucking great. You can deep throat?” I nodded, and he chuckled. “No one’s ever done that to me.
“Hang on, did you cum in your pants?”
I looked down at my crotch and saw a large wet spot. I hadn’t even noticed. I dabbed a fingertip to a white glob near where my cockhead was and brought it to my lips. “Yeah, that’s cum.”
Russ stood up and guided my off my knees to my feet. They were sore from the floor and I wobbled and winced as I stood up, placing my hands on his forearms to steady myself. “You okay?” he asked
“Just being on my knees on that hard floor, that’s all.”
“Do you want to get cleaned up?”
A twinkle in his eye suggested we might do more than just share a hot shower.
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