Cain

we schedule a low-effort hangout, just talking and snacking and smoking weed. i spark up and you know i don't do this often.

"don't worry," you say, "i'm gonna take care of you."

i like how light and fuzzy my head feels. there's no need to worry about anything, there's no need to think. i get quieter and i enjoy the sound of your voice cooing at me. and you enjoy how pliant i am. you put your hand on my thigh, i don't protest. you spread my legs, i smile. yeah, you're right; it's more comfortable like this. i lean my head back and just enjoy the moment.

"you'd be more comfortable on the bed," ou point out. you're right again. as always. i don't doubt you, ever. so you help me move to the bed, my limbs stretched out. you climb on top for, y'know, body heat. where have all my clothes gone? don't worry about it. here's another joint. i accept it and take a drag.

you slip it in as i exhale and blow the smoke at you. i close my eyes, hands behind my head, and rock my hips to your rhythm. i'm too high to really keep up, though. soon you're pounding into me all on your own and i don't even have time to smoke during it. my head's swimming. the thoughts are all liquid and keep spilling out with every time you hit my cervix.

fuck. did you come inside? no, that's fine. and as you lie next to me, i glance over and see your dad entering through the door.