Purple Haze

 

“Who the fuck are you!” You stared at the half naked man lying on your sofa, playing GTA V, the room reeking of weed and… some unidentified scent. “Get the hell out of my house!” You were shrieking like a banshee, yet this studly stranger took no notice of your rage. 

“Yo, bruh. Why you screamin’? Calm down.” As if a Valium hit you like a brick, waves of relief washed over you. 

“I… I don’t know.” You stood there, dumbfounded. Wondering why it was you were so surprised this dude was in your apartment. You calmly place your stuff down at the door, kicking off your uncomfortable work shoes.

“Man, that fuckin’ job has got you stressed out as fuck.” He sits upright, patting the leather cushion next to him. Your head still fuzzy, you idly find yourself waddling over to him, and plopping down next to him on the couch. He tosses his arm around your shoulder, and hands you the second controller, which you gladly accept. There is nothing like Grand Theft Auto to let out all that aggression that builds up after a bullshit shift. “Sit back, and just let it out bro. I’ll roll us a blunt.”

Marco bends over, opening the pot box. Wait. Marco. Yeah, that’s his name. But, why do you know him? How do you know him? Have you seen him before? It’s as you stumble over the little holes in your memory, your nose is bombarded once again by that strange smell. Sweet. Salty. Sour… It’s rank! Yet, addictive. Your mind occupied on the game, your nose focused on the smell… It’s a sensual overload when Marco finally has the blunt in his mouth, lighting it up and letting out his typical massive cloud.

“Aight, here.” You take the blunt from his fingers, and he tosses his arm around your shoulders once again. You bring the blunt to your lips, and light it. You inhale, taking in that oh-so-familiar spicy taste of ganja. You sigh as you let out the smoke, settling into Marco’s comfortable hold. You try and pass it back to him, but he quietly refuses. “Nah, man. You need it way more than I do.” 

You two shout and laugh together, high as kites as your outrageous shenanigans on GTA coincide perfectly with the absurdist humour the weed brings out. It’s at this point once again that your drawn again to that smell. It tickles the hairs in your nose, giving you shivers down your spine. Marco looks over to you, noticing your obvious goosebumps down your arms. 

“Ahh. I know what you need.” You feel a hand grab the back of your head, and within seconds, your face is buried in a dark, dank little space. The smell is pulsating into your nostrils, clearly it is coming from here. “Yeah, I know how you like it. Breathe it in, babe.” You grasp Marco’s meaty pecs and back, pulling your face deeper into the sweaty armpit. He always knows how to treat you when you’ve had a rough day. Marco plays on, smiling, yet nonchalantly unperturbed. You lap up the beads of trapped sweat from his damp pits, savouring each and every ounce of his salty taste. 

You pull away from your boyfriend’s musky pits for only a moment; just enough time to slowly and seductively pull down his beat up sweatpants. His gorgeous cock springs to attention, smacking you in the cheek. The familiar sour stench of his musky balls and cock welcomes you back to your favourite place on earth. 

Marco grabs the base of it, smirking that familiar, cocky sidegrin. You know exactly what to do. You gently kiss and caress his tip, fondling those melons he calls his balls. Your insatiable lust takes over, as you go down on your boyfriend, deepthroating as if you’ve done it every single day. Each time your nostrils hit his bush, you take in that incredible stench, a product of his lackadaisical stance on showering.

He grabs the back of your head, thrusting his cock into your mouth, throatfucking you like he loves to do. He growls, moans, and grunts as he furiously fucks your face. Each slap of his balls on your chin, you are reminded of the amazing streams of seed that will flow down your throat- your drink of choice. No sooner as you think it, Marco roars out his animalistic grunt as he shoots his massive load down your throat. Stream after stream, neverending. You can feel the cum get caught in the back of your throat, heading up to your sinuses, and trickling down your nose. Each throbbing thrust of cum fills you in ways you cannot explain. As if it flowed from your mouth to your toes, filling you up with every single burst. You found yourself pulsating, your muscles stretching and contracting with every load barreled into your powerful gut.

Marco dismounts your cum-soaked face, and passionately kisses you. His little alpha persona is such a mock up, as you know that he’d rather just light a blunt than boss you around! You look down at the tattered remains of boring square work clothes on your lean, muscled body. What the fuck had happened? Who the fuck wears that shit? Thank god you sell out of your place, so you don’t even have to put pants on! Slipping on your favourite trash shirt, and rancid, cumsoaked undies, you plop back into your seat, while Marco begins to repay the favour you paid him. He’s in for a surprise. You didn’t wash up this morning, so there might be a little… Build up down there. You take a puff of your blunt as your boyfriend goes down on your cheesy cock. Damn. Doesn’t get better than this.