Type Hesitated

Type and the Situation - pt 2

The following contains 18+ content.

Type reached up to hold Tharn by the jaw. He just wanted to restrain him long enough so the older guy would listen to his plea. "Please, before I die."

Even the sound of the zipper descending provided sweet relief. Still clutching Tharn by the neck, he wrapped his second hand around to the back of his head and pulled the drummer in to reward his liberator with a hot kiss. As their mouths pursed and bit, Type held his sex friend's head in place while Tharn used his hands to continue to removed the clothes that hindered his roommate.

With his cock finally free of the constraining clothes, relief swept over Type. But the respite was short lived as another sensation swept over him. His muscles tightened, he swore he could feel his skin stretch across the tendon and bone. Type felt the five fingers of the drummer gliding down into his boxers, pinching the crown of his swallon junior, then sliding down the length to wrap his palm around the shaft. His lungs halted, he gasped but no air went in, and nothing was coming out. Type lost all muscle control, his hands fell.

Using one agile hand, Tharn worked to remove the top shirt button then the next, and the next. As he revealed the chest he lapped at the naked skin pausing at each nipple to taste and flick them to attention. Tharn stopped at the belly; he used his tongue to slide around the rim of the button there, then to explore its inner wrinkles; a preview for what was to come. He could feel Type breathing harder, his voice low. Making sounds somewhere between a moan and a gasp. There were no squeaks, no high pitched peeps. Tharn had heard many different voices with various partners, every individual had their own way to express passion. The sounds of this lover was music to his ears.

"Please don't stop there." Type directed, his tone quivering.

"Your wish is my command."

As the older guy hinted at moving lower, Type raked his hand into that guy's hair to feel the thick and silky locks. He fisted the length as a way to steady his own posture. He'd played soccer games with several overtimes and felt less weak then he did at this moment. Type was holding his breath as he anticipated what was coming next. He was filled with the same expectation as just before ripping off a bandage to expose a fresh wound. He wanted Tharn's hot wet mouth taking in his ready and willing cock, no matter how it shocked his system.

At first there was just the slightest sensation, like a whisper on the sensitive skin. Followed by lips pressing against each side of the tip, like the way the french do in greeting. Then a bigger kiss, with tongue; a lick, a taste, a nibble. Type felt like he was breathing from the bottom of his lungs. Deep, hoarse breaths. Long intakes, the air creating friction in the back of his throat; the air escaping in short exhales.

Then ecstasy filled Type. Tharn had taken the whole member into his mouth, holding it captive, stroking with his tongue. Type arched his neck, pushing his head back. He clenched his jaw tight to keep from screaming out, but the moaning still coming from deep in his throat, would not be contained. Forcing himself to breath through his nose, he could feel the heavy puffs of air hit his lips. He could feel the man draw back and then plunge forward again. Every inch of his rod swallowed whole. The noises of Tharn's pleasure reached Type's ears. It was baffling to him how what he was doing was bringing him as much pleasure as Type who was receiving. But there was no mistaking the sounds of enrapture. Of satisfaction.

Types toes were curling. His extremities were pulling back because of the tightness of all his muscles. As if every tendon in his body was connected to his core. Drawing back because he was about to explode.