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If you knew how many people thought you were gay, you wouldn't joke like that
Have you ever smoked pot? It affects everyone differently, someone gets a "ha-ha" effect, someone starts to think about something and gets really worked up about something, someone just gets high and thus relaxes from problems, and someone probably sits on it and can't imagine his day without a joint. To each his own. My friend and I are not junkies, but we like to smoke from time to time. Rather, my mate likes it, and I just like the company. He always tells me that smoking alone is a bore, and if I refuse, Misbrug he will beat me. And after these words on his face always appears a smile, Modelka and Busty his hands are already filling the cigarette with the necessary ingredients. I'll be honest, I could rarely resist his smile. When he smiles, it's like something in my stomach clenches, and I... I'm willing to go along with anything and everything. He obviously doesn't know that, maybe he guesses, but he doesn't know for sure. I also love his car. Having a best friend with such a sweet smile and a car. it's the ultimate dream come true. If we look a little deeper into our relationship, we've been friends since primary school, even though we were in different classes. He's a year older than me, but that didn't stop us from hanging out together at recess even at school. We grew up together, tried our first beer together, ran outside the school together to smoke, and so on. I remember there was one moment that I consider a turning point in my perception of our friendship. While that's a bit of an exaggeration, you have to agree, we often see meaning where there is none. Whatever. Anyway, we were just walking, with him on the street, loitering like normal teenagers loitering on the street in their free time, and a few girls from his class were walking towards us. I didn't know their names, but I'd often seen Mark talking to them. So one of them shouted at us that we were like a sweet couple going everywhere together, and that we should get married. I hugged my friend approvingly and added that maybe we would get married soon. I'll never forget what he said to me as we walked away from those laughing girls: "If you knew how many people thought you were gay, you wouldn't joke about it. That phrase really hit me hard, to the point where I started digging into myself, and when you dig, you're bound to find something terrible. You can't just wake up and say to yourself, "Yes, I'm gay." First you have to understand all these feelings, thoughts, echoes of incipient desires, and then you have to panic. So, after those very words, I began to think about who I really am. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I liked Mark a lot more than just a friend. And then it got worse. Mark started to get girls, we went out together less often, and I just didn't find a reason to call him often. We were drifting apart, and I couldn't help but feel frustrated. So over time, we began to meet more often, and my "grown-up" body and mind began to try to please my friend in every way possible, whatever he could think of. Mark parked his car in the yard away from the roadway and immediately took out a cigarette, shook all the tobacco out of it over the window, took out a packet with a plan, carefully stuffed the contents of the packet into the empty cigarette, twisted the tip and moistened the paper with his tongue liberally so that the joint would not burn too quickly. Watching Mark work his tongue was particularly pleasurable, his lips, mouth and to some extent his tongue were a kind of tidbit that warmed my soul and made my stomach react in some special way. Mark handed me a joint, took out his fancy lighter with the flip-up cap that burns until you close it back up, and at that very moment the interior of the car lit up with a bright flame. I put the cigarette to my lips and reached for the fire. There are so many ways to smoke weed that it would take a lot of time to describe them alone, so let's focus on one that I particularly liked. It's called "vaping." It's when one person takes a joint in their mouth, burning side inwards, clamping the filter with their lips, and exhales the smoke into the mouth of the other person, who at that moment leans as close to your lips as possible. Kind of like kissing without touching. As you understand, this method is special for me, and every time Mark exhales smoke into my mouth, I gently put my hand on his shoulder, as if controlling his actions, so that no "smoke" is wasted. Taking my first puff, I handed the joint to my friend. Mark followed my example and took a puff, and after a couple of seconds, he stepped forward to me, flipping the cigarette, suggesting that I "take it".
I didn't need to be asked twice, and on automatic, my hand reached for his shoulder, but at some point it landed gently on his neck, and Mark jerked a little, but didn't pull away. After finishing, we sat in the car with the windows closed, without letting the smoke out, and just "cooked" in it, until we were completely intoxicated. It didn't take much time, and then Mark's face curved into his trademark smile and we laughed. Shall I tell you what weed does to me? It sharpens and heightens my perception of anything I might be excited about at the moment, and this particular time I was looking at Mark's lips and they were turning me on. At first my inner voice said: "how beautiful they are", then a slight shiver ran through my body, my stomach began to tingle a little, and my dick it started to rise. I don't think I would have cared much about this process when I was sober, but at the moment the weight of my cock was a good reason to tense up and think about it twice as hard. Mark leaned back in his chair a little, took out a regular cigarette and started smoking, telling me something. I didn't really listen to him, I was so overwhelmed that all the words flew past me. After smoking, he opened the window, pushed the cigarette butt out of the small hole, and then closed it again, not letting the fresh air disperse the smoke that filled all the free space in the car. And it was at that very moment that I abruptly went over to my friend and kissed him. Like I said, the senses are heightened, and that touch of his lips was something unreal. They were soft, a little dry and tinged with tobacco bitterness. The kiss wasn't long, only a couple of seconds, but for me it was the longest seconds in the world. Pulling away from him, I immediately noticed the way his eyes rounded. Mark was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost, not making a sound, just staring, afraid to move. Then I decided to act for sure, and touched his neck very gently with my fingertips. The boy shuddered and his lips, which had been tightly pressed together all this time, opened slightly, allowing him to exhale, and then I kissed him for real, penetrating his mouth with my tongue, pulling his lips apart and wetting them with my saliva. Mark gave in to my manipulations and began to move his tongue too. We kissed for several minutes. During that time, my hand was already well under his t-shirt, touching his firm belly and nipples. Mark was well-built, and I had always wanted to run my hand over his stomach, which I easily did without any resistance. Mark was trembling with excitement. He pulled off his T-shirt, tossed it into the back seat of the car, and pulled the lever securing the seat sharply. The back of the seat slid smoothly backwards, and now Mark was in a reclining position, sliding his strong hand down the back of my neck and beginning to press down so that I could touch my lips to his chest. Step by step, kiss by kiss, I went lower and lower until the tart smell of a man's body hit my nose. Or rather, the underside of that body. The head of his penis was sticking out from under the belt of his jeans, giving me an idea of the overall size of his manhood. I hadn't expected this, and I briefly ran my tongue over the clear liquid that came out. Mark groaned and quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his trousers, giving me more room to manoeuvre. I sucked for the first time, ineptly, assisted by my hand. Every now and then Mark put his hands on my head and pressed me down hard on his cock, holding me breathless and releasing me only when I wheezed and tried to pull away. He was both rough and gentle at the same time, and his cock was just a fucking tool. He came quickly. In my mouth. Without warning, and without making hardly a sound, he just breathed a little more intensely and pressed my head against his. I had to swallow. And when his grip loosened, and I was able to take his cock out of my mouth, and some of the cum started running down the shaft. Even now it was hard to think that he was able to fit all of it inside me. It was very big indeed. Mark took out a cigarette with a satisfied mien and started smoking, putting his trousers back on and returning the car seat to its place. Afterwards, as if nothing had happened, he suggested we stop off at the supermarket and get something to eat. I agreed. To tell you the truth, I wasn't hurt by his non-involvement. I got what I wanted. I wanted to please him. I didn't even think about mutual caresses at that moment. I was afraid that after he was done, our relationship would falter and everything would fall apart, but that didn't happen. We still talked, we still crossed paths, we still hung out in his car in the evenings. And sometimes he could just flip the back of the chair back without a word, and my lips would be clutching his cock.