We were two blunts deep when the horniness hit me like a truck. Jake and I had been chilling in his living room all night, just us, the TV on mute, smoke hanging thick in the air. I was 22, he was 23, same as always, but the weed made everything feel hotter and slower. My dick was half-hard in my shorts and I couldn't stop staring at the thick bulge in his.
"Fuck, I'm wrecked," Jake muttered, shifting on the couch. His hand brushed his crotch and stayed there, rubbing slow. "You ever get stupid horny when you're this high?"
I laughed but my voice came out rough. "Yeah, man. Right now I wanna suck a cock so bad it hurts."
The words hung there. Jake looked at me, eyes red and glassy, then grinned that dirty grin. "Then come suck mine."
I didn't think. I slid off the couch onto my knees between his spread legs. His shorts were already tenting hard. I yanked them down and his cock sprang out, thick, veined, the head shiny with pre-cum. It smelled like sweat and skin and weed. I wrapped my hand around the base and licked straight up the shaft, tasting salt.
Jake groaned low. "That's it, suck it."
I opened wide and took the head into my mouth, sucking hard. My tongue swirled around the ridge while I bobbed down, taking more of him. The weed made every sensation explode. His cock felt huge and hot on my tongue, stretching my lips. I gagged when it hit the back of my throat but kept going, drool running down his balls. Jake's hand landed on my head, not pushing, just holding me there while he thrust up shallow.
"Shit, your mouth feels so fucking good," he growled. "Suck my cock like you mean it."
I did. I hollowed my cheeks and worked him fast, one hand stroking what I couldn't fit, the other cupping his heavy balls. He was leaking steadily now, and I swallowed every drop, moaning around his shaft. The room spun a little from the high, but all I cared about was the way his cock throbbed and how his thighs flexed under my hands.
After a minute he pulled me off with a wet pop. "Get naked. I want to fuck your face proper."
We stripped fast. I stayed on my knees while he stood, feeding his cock back into my mouth. He held my head with both hands and started thrusting, using my throat. Spit dripped down my chin onto my own aching dick. I jerked myself in time with his strokes, eyes watering, but I didn't want him to stop.
"Fuck yeah, take it," he grunted. "Gonna cum down your throat if you keep that up."
I pulled off just long enough to say, "Do it. I want to taste it." Then I dove back down, sucking harder, tongue pressing along the underside. Jake's breathing went ragged. His balls tightened and he shoved deep, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into my mouth. I swallowed as much as I could, the rest spilling out the sides, but I kept sucking until he was twitching and oversensitive.
He pulled out, breathing hard, then dropped to his knees too. "My turn."
We ended up on the floor, 69ing while the second blunt burned down in the ashtray. His mouth on my cock felt insane, hot and wet and sloppy. I was still tasting his load when he swallowed me to the root. We sucked each other slow and messy, high as hell, hands roaming everywhere. When I came he drank it down without hesitation, groaning around my shaft.
After we both finished we lay there panting, sticky and satisfied. Jake laughed first. "We doing this again next time we smoke?"
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and grinned. "Fuck yes. Next time I'm riding that cock too."
We lit another blunt and kept going until the sun came up, mouths and hands busy the whole night.