I Started Smoking Again

I started smoking again. Ah, what are you gonna do? I roll the joints and kick back. I don’t know why I ever try to stop? And, of course, Matthew smokes too. That handsome guy, with his blue eyes, bloodshot and smiling.  

I take on look at him and his gorgeous face all flushed and I think, what have I done to this sweet guy. Turned him into a pot pig. He’s taken to it like a duck takes to water, of a monkey takes to the trees. 

He smiles all wonky at me.

“I’m a bad boy,” I say.

I can’t say that around Matthew, “I’m a bad boy.” It gets him going. 

I roll more joints, because once I start, I find it hard to stop, which may give you an inkling of why, in fact, I do stop. 

And Matthew disappears.

The next time I look around he is in a dog choker and tight leather shorts, not even zipped up, that's how keen it makes him. Big muscly puppy, on all fours, with his cotton tail wriggling.

He whimpers at the door, his head around the door frame, on all fours. Pot brings out the worst best in him.

Adorable.

“Come on boy,” I say. And he scampers into the room, like the big puppy that he is.

His parents are still happily married and all.

Although, they were both lefty teachers. So, I don't reckon he can blame his childhood. No one beat him up him, or treated him badly, in fact from all accounts his childhood was all sunshine and good times, being cosseted and well looked after, driven to his private school in a Mercedes, or a Jag with his two, equally adorable, bothers. They had a beach house for the summer holidays. And while I know this doesn’t mean shit sometimes, in his cases it did.

He is such a handsome lad.

He comes right up to me and looks up with his adorable face. And he whimpers some more.

“You been a good boy?” I ask.

He shakes his head in the negative, and makes Scooby Do noises.

Adorable.

The tight leather shorts slide half way down the backs of his thick thighs.

Tight around his waist, despite being unzipped. His beautiful skin slides down his bare torso and under the waistband.

I slide my hand down his spine, and he wags his tail, his beefy arse wiggling from side to side.

I slide my hand under the back of his shorts waistband.

He looks up at me with big eyes and whimpers kind of seductively.

I slide my hand over his warm coccyx. The tip of my pointer finger finding the beginning of the divot, trench, which falls away in a triangular shape.

Matthew woof, woofs.

I slide my finger into his hairy arse crack. He wags his tail. I pull my hand out and I lick my finger and then slide it right into him up to my knuckle, and he slides down onto his elbows keeping his arse up in the air. He looks up at me and slides his tongue out of his mouth. And I have my finger all the way into him and he moans and pushes back on it as if he is trying to get more of it inside him.

He growls with pleasure.

I slide down next to him. I slide his shorts off, down his thick hairy thighs.

His big balls and beautiful thick cock hang down. I hold his gaze, as I salivate all over the palm of my hand. I take his thick cock from behind between his legs and I masturbate him. I suck the pointer finger of my other hand and then finger fuck him with it until he is a wet open. My other hand holds a sticky, gooey leaking cock.

I pull his thick hard cock with one hand, as I finger him up to the knuckle with my other hand.

He breaks character. “Oh fuck, that feels so fucken good,” he say.

“Good boy,” I say.

“I am such a good… fucken… boy,” he says all deep and low and breathy.

I have two fingers deep inside him, his arsehole tight around them. When I threaten to slide a 3rd finger into him, he starts to shiver and shake and call out. 

“Oh fucken Jesus!” he says. 

And he pumps great wads of cum into my hand, which is rubbing his fat knob intensely.

And just as he starts to cum, I do slide my 3rd finger into him, and I slide the 3 pronged width of fingers into him until I can’t push it into him anymore and he becomes a wild organising glove puppet completely under my spell.

He rolls over afterwards, with his arms in a begging position, and his legs bent and in the air. He laughs, and sighs a happy sigh. His now flaccid cock lying up on his abdomen, his big, round balls hanging down. 

“That was great.”

“You are too cute,” I say.

“You are,” he says.