The meth slammed into my veins like a freight train and suddenly everything was razor sharp and filthy. I was already naked on the motel floor, knees spread wide, when Jake shoved his thick cock against my lips. "Open up, you dirty fuck," he growled, and I did, tongue out, drooling before he even pushed in. The high made my mouth water nonstop and my hole twitch like it had its own heartbeat.
I sucked him hard and sloppy, gagging on purpose because the meth turned every choke into pure pleasure. Spit ran down my chin in strings while I bobbed fast, one hand jerking the base, the other reaching back to finger my own ass. Jake grabbed my hair and fucked my throat in short, mean thrusts. "That's it, meth whore, take that cock," he rasped. The drug made the taste of his precum explode on my tongue, salty and electric.
We had been smoking for an hour already. The pipe sat on the nightstand, still warm. Every few minutes one of us would pause just long enough to take another hit, hold it, then blow the smoke straight into the other's mouth while we kissed messy and deep. The second the smoke hit my lungs my nipples tightened and my cock jerked untouched, leaking onto the cheap carpet.
Jake pulled out and slapped his wet dick across my face. "On the bed, ass up." I scrambled up, high as fuck, and presented. He didn't tease. He spat once on my hole and shoved two fingers straight in, twisting, stretching. The meth made the burn feel like firecrackers going off inside me. I moaned loud and pushed back, begging for more.
He lined up and slammed his cock balls-deep in one thrust. I saw white. The stretch, the heat, the way the drug turned pain into this throbbing, desperate need to get fucked harderit was everything. Jake pounded me like he hated me, hips slapping loud and wet. Every time he bottomed out I felt it in my teeth. I reached under and jerked my own cock in time with his strokes, fast and rough.
"Hit the pipe again," he ordered, never slowing down. I grabbed it with shaking hands, sparked the lighter, and inhaled while he kept railing me. The rush hit so hard I almost blacked out from pleasure. My hole clenched around him and he laughed, low and mean. "Look at you, cock-sucking meth pig. You love this shit."
He flipped me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, and went even deeper. The angle made his cock drag right over that spot inside me that the meth turned into a live wire. I was babbling, "Fuck me, use me, fill that hole," while he hammered away. Sweat dripped off his chest onto mine. We were both glistening, muscles pumped from the drug, veins standing out.
I needed his cock back in my mouth. I pushed him off, dropped to the floor again, and swallowed him to the root, tasting my own ass on him. The mix of flavors plus the chemical tang in my brain made me moan around the shaft. Jake held my head with both hands and used my throat like a toy, short brutal thrusts that made my eyes water. Spit and precum bubbled out around my lips.
When he was close he yanked me up, bent me over the dresser, and drove back in. The mirror showed everything: my red face, stringy spit on my chin, eyes glassy from the high. He reached around and pinched my nipples hard while he fucked. The sting traveled straight to my balls. I came untouched, shooting ropes across the wood, hole pulsing around him.
Jake didn't stop. He kept pounding through my orgasm, chasing his own. "Gonna breed that meth hole," he grunted, then buried deep and unloaded, hot pulses I could feel even through the haze. We stayed locked together, breathing hard, the meth still singing in our blood.
Later we smoked again, slower this time, lying tangled on the sheets. My jaw ached, my ass throbbed, and I was already half-hard again. Jake grinned, passing me the pipe. "Round two. You still got that mouth to work." I took the hit, exhaled, and slid down to suck him clean, already hungry for more. The night was young and the high was nowhere near done.
