tagMatureThe Need For Weed

The Need For Weed

byKethandra©

This is an entry in the 2016 Nude Day story contest. All characters are over eighteen years of age and are fictional. Thank you and enjoy.

*

My need for Weed began in late August. Weed was her nickname, and had been from when she first sprouted upward as a young girl, taller than all her classmates of any gender. She'd stayed rail thin over the years, though active and successful in volleyball and track.

Weed's mom, Eva, was my wife's best friend. Eva was tall like Weed, but buxom in a way Weed would never be. Last August, Weed matriculated at the local university, the same school where an innocent, nerdy me had met two lovely girls, one tall named Eva, one quite short, named Carrie, a couple decades ago.

Since Eva and Edith (No wonder the poor girl used a nickname: what parent in the second half of the 20th century names their child Edith?) lived hundreds of miles away, when the university notified them of a last-minute repair needed to Weed's dorm room, on the day she was to move in, Carrie insisted her best friend's daughter stay with us.

We were happy to have Weed stay the week with us until her dorm room would be ready. I agreed before I realized Carrie saw Weed staying in our basement spare room - the closest thing I had to my own man-cave. My combination office and smoking lounge, no tobacco allowed beyond a rare cigar with a friend. The basement was where I smoked pot. Weed.

Now, I had a tall gangly-gorgeous nineteen year old was inhabiting the space, inhibiting my most private habits. Getting high and masturbating.

Now, a curious, too-mature young woman kept me from my stress-reducing, engrained habits.

Now, a willowy, waify, wonder wandered my home, with a face that went from pensive pout to room-brightening grin in an instant, wearing increasing more revealing clothes.

Day one had been a whirlwind of decisions after the burst pipe made her designated room unlivable. Weed was a grumpy, frustrated teen in sweats, stuck off-campus at night while her new classmates explored dorm life.

Day two she'd been gracious. Gone most of the day for orientation, she returned bright-eyed but tired, in skinny jeans that exaggerated already long legs and slim hips and a white t-shirt which bulged in two overly rounded mounds that seemed obviously all-bra. Carrie received a hug of thanks first. Pulling back from mine, Weed - my height, or a hair taller - looked me in the eye and said, "I know I took over your space. If you need me...if you need access to anything, please let me know."

By day four the bra was gone, at least when she 'got comfy' in the evening. Loose shorts left miles of smooth shining legs exposed as she helped clean up after dinner, then curled under her when she joined us for a movie.

Day five, I learned how her legs got their shine, after Weed came home early and surprised me blowing a hit of smoke into the ventilator fan of her basement bathroom. Fifteen minutes earlier than that and she would have caught me pumping my cock, my computer screen filled with an image of a tall, thin model with open, pouting lips and inviting eyes that reminded me of our young guest.

"I wondered how you were getting along, without your weed. And your space." She made a small frown, her brows knitting. "I really do appreciate the sacrifice. Thank you."

"It's no problem, We..."

"But, you know what else I'd appreciate?" She cut me off. "A hit of whatever I smell right now."

Hands on hips, she tilted her head, waiting my response. She was young, but an adult and I had heard Eva comment that she trusted the girl to be moderate with drugs and alcohol. The way Weed held the lighter to the pipe, the deep inhales held without coughing, made it clear she had smoked at least a few times before.

She chattered on about school, her tongue loosened by the pot. She used the bathroom to change into her comfy clothes after ushering me out, raising her voice to continue her monologue through the door. She wore the same loose shorts from yesterday and a longer night shirt that covered them. When she first opened the door, I thought she was naked under the top; all I could see below were those long, toned legs.

"Would you hand me that lotion, please?"

I found the large pump bottle on the shelf that doubled as a nightstand.

"Thank you." He eyes had an extra twinkle that might have been just the weed. She propped one bare foot up on my desk and began applying the lotion to her leg, moving up from the ankle with long, smooth strokes. The position revealed the shorts underneath, ruining the illusion that she might be naked under the thin shirt, but adding a thrill to glimpsing the shorts as underthings now, where they had been pajamas the night before.

Day six, Eva would return. Carrie was picking her up at the airport. We would have at least another day before the dorm was scheduled to be repaired.

Late on Day Five, or possibly very early Day Six, I stared into the dark above our bed. My hand touched my very erect cock as I wondered if I could beat off without waking Carrie, sleeping beside me. Images of long legs being lotioned, parted puffy lips threatening another smile, and equally puffy nipples, pushing out a thin nightshirt, all kept me far from sleep.

Carrie rolled over to face me, mumbling. My wife's arm wrapped over me as she snuggled closer. Her forearm bumped, dragged across my aching hard-on until her fingers found it. They explored.

"Mmmm." She nuzzled in against my shoulder. Her voice was cloudy with sleep. "Honey. You're so hard."

A leg slid up over mine. I could picture the toned, tan limb I knew so well. I had been immediately attracted to Carrie, her blond hair swinging in a ponytail from the back of her cap, muscles creasing her legs under a short white skirt, flexing as she planted her back foot before a two-handed return down the sideline of the college tennis court. Even though the school paper wanted photos of all the team's matches, I had given only the barest attention to shooting anyone other than the short, almost muscular blond playing second singles.

Exploring fingers wrapped around me, began a slow, slow jacking of the skin up and down my shaft. "I know why my hubby's hard."

Pump. She kissed my shoulder, leaving a flick of tongue before her lips retreated. I groaned and pushed into her hand, a guilty flash of Weed, and slick hands sliding up long bare legs.

"My glamorous old roommate is going to be here tomorrow." Pump. "She's teased you for years."

It was true, but it was more true that my wife teased me about her tall, exotic friend. Teased, but danced away from any attempt on my part to steer her toward actually including Eva in our erotic menu. Carrie liked to talk, to role play about sharing me with another woman, but nothing beyond talk.

Kiss. "Yeah?"

Pump. "You like the idea of her sliding into the guest bed, naked, that tall, gorgeous body, so long and slender, and those big, impossible tits. "

Carrie still refused to believe that I preferred small, or next-to-none, breasts. She had been insecure about her own figure, and the attention her tall, full-chested friend received only reinforced it. Instead, I found my future wife's nearly hard-bodied, athletic body irresistible, especially after I learned how responsive it could be, how it could be sent into one massive climax after another.

She pushed the covers down to my thighs, bending closer to her hand's work. I felt silky hair before her cheek came to rest on my stomach. Pump. "Such a hard, hard hubby. Bet he'd like to feel Eva's full lips wrapped around this fat cock."

Pump. Pump. My hips moved into the pleasure. "Yeah. Fuck those fat lips. That's it. I'd probably have to show the bitch how to suck my man's cock, though."

Pump. I groaned again, not by choice. "Uh huh. You want me to show her how you like it?"

Pump. "Put my hands on the back of her head and teach her to be a good cocksucking slut for you?"

My hips shoved up when Carrie followed up teasing words with her own hot lips wrapped around me, sucking above her fist. She pumped faster. She slurped further down the shaft. I felt her hips now, grinding against me.

The slurping sensation of her lips disappeared as she clambered above me. A hand dragged my swollen head between her thighs, finding slickness there. Carrie whined as the first drop of her weight forced most of the head in. I was slick with her spit, but her body was still awakening.

"Come here." She knew exactly what I meant. In an instant she was crouched above my chest, pushing her hips closer to my mouth. A hand clapped over her own open mouth stifled the cry when I began to lick. No teasing, this was to get her as ready as I was, to get her wet, open. A long stroke of my tongue pushed in between her lips, the next forced them wider, wetter.

"Enough." Her whisper was harsh as she climbed back down to my waist in the dark.

"Uhh!" She dropped down on me again, over guiding fingers. I liked it when she got hungry like this, eager, wanting my cock inside without delay. I also liked teasing her, taking my time to let pressures build in her. I had never been with anyone who could explode with orgasm after full-body orgasm like Carrie could, when properly stimulated. Sessions could take well over an hour and leave us both exhausted. This was not the time for that.

Her hips rocked and she shimmied me further inside, began to fuck herself on me. I heard a long hiss from above on the final stroke down that buried me in full. My hands found firm small cups, rolled and pulled on two erect nipples. It was her turn to groan and her motion switched to deep circles, keeping me deep.

"Don't hold back, baby. Fuck her 'til you cum. Fill her full of your cum for me, baby."

This was an old, favorite and reoccurring fantasy. Another woman, most often Eva, and me pumping my release inside her with no time or concern for anything but my own climax. I think part of her attraction to the idea was my own delight in extracting every last orgasm from her quivering body before giving her my own. The idea of me being the one cumming out of control seemed central to her fantasies.

Even as aroused as I'd been when she discovered it, I knew I wasn't going to cum quickly with her riding me. Carrie squealed when I swept her up with an arm around her waist. I levered our weight up and twisted, landing her on her back, under me. Strong, lean thighs wrapped me close, even as half a breath was forced from her lungs as the move dropped me onto her, forced my length deeper.

"Yes, baby, yes. Fuck her for me." I knew she wanted me to cum in her conjured large-breasted friend, but I plunged into my own image of Eva's daughter, Weed's long legs and arms clinging to me. Weed's tight pussy pulsing around each thrust in the dark.

I couldn't suppress my cry when I came. The intensity surprised me. Afterwards, Carrie held me as twitching shivers subsided. Before long she rolled away, pulling my arm around her waist. Her breaths slowed, evened.

Sleep still alluded me, chased away by thoughts of Weed and how hard I had just cum inside - in my mind - our young guest. I pulled my arm free and slipped out of bed. I knew Carrie was out for the night now. Leftovers -Chinese takeout -might distract me enough for sleep. I pulled on flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt to test my hypothesis.

-----

"Good morning."

I almost dropped the square paper container of General Tsao's as I jumped. By the light of the open refrigerator, I could see Weed standing with a half smile, leaning against the doorway. The thin sleepshirt covered her to near mid thigh, which still left a mile of tan, slim legs. Her pretty face was scrunched up, squinting against the light. She sounded groggy. The microwave clock said 2:08. Morning indeed.

She shuffled across the vinyl floor in oversized slippers I hadn't seen yet and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. Her body was relaxed, almost collapsing against me, still sleepy. My wife was petite, but my arms seemed to reach almost twice as far around Weed's skinny frame.

"You smell like sex."

She was my height or a hair taller, much taller than my wife, so my face buried against her neck, chin to her shoulder and nose under her ear as she leaned into me. She smelled like pot. Weed. My pot. Mixed with a sweet, girly musk. I had no idea how to respond to her.

"Damn. You really smell like sex." She drew a slow sniffing breath in my hair, then along my jaw, repeating the exact words, stretching them out with more deliberate emphasis. I shivered. It felt electric. Her pixie nose dragged up to the corner of my mouth, still tracing the scent. Her mouth was close to mine, the sweet, pouty lips I had fantasized about so many times recently. Fantasized about those lips kissing mine, about them wrapping around my cock like they sealed around the end of my glass pipe.

The tip of her tongue flicked out, sampled the skin near where my lips joined, where she had last sniffed. I held myself motionless.

"Yes." She whispered, lips vibrating against my skin. "Pussy."

I moaned. Weed leaned in, her thighs and stomach hard on mine. My arms responded without permission, wrapping even further around her. Lips kissed, tasted along my jaw, feather light, weighty with promise. "Mmm. Nice and fresh."

She pushed her tiny hips in harder, found my swelling shape. I hard button of nipple pressed against my chest. "I always wondered how Aunt Carrie tasted. I wanna another sample."

Her body dragged lower against me, her clinging hands walking down my back until they found my ass, until her slim, silky body slipped below my arms. Dropping to her knees, she sucked my swollen head through the thin fabric of my pants. Air hissed in between my teeth at the feeling of heat that radiated around my cock through the light flannel.

One hand scrabbled to find my waistband and tug it down. Early training kicked in and I started to close the open refrigerator door. I realized it was the only light in the room, left it where it was, and turned so the light cast over one side of Weed's face, showing the concentration there as she fished a hand through the open fly and pulled me free.

She cradled my length in delicate, long palms and fingers, allowing hot breath out between lips, she hovered millimeters from the sensitive, heavy head.

Then her tongue was out, sliding up the tender underbelly as her big eyes came up to find mine. Carrie's juices, mixed with my own cum, wouldn't have had time to dry.

"Mmmm."

I shuddered at the sensation of her first bob down, taking half my length past her stretched-open lips, compounded by the humming vibration of her appreciation. Slim fingers squeezed my cheeks, pulling me deeper. I could still feel her tongue laving me, inside sealed lips. Then the pulsing contraction of her swallowing, and again, taking in the residue she cleaned from me, the co-mingled residue of my recent sex, my cumming so hard inside my wife while picturing this lithe young waif.

This was Weed, the thin beauty who had kept me awake, tormenting my thoughts. Who had teased me the way she had slid lotioned hands up long bare legs, putting on a show for me. Weed, now sucking, stroking, swallowing the combined fluids of my recent fucking, smelling like the weed she must have smoked just now, from my stash.

She made a small gagging sound when she pushed her head down, trying to take all of me in. To my surprise, she didn't retreat. She pushed again, and gagged. Her head tilted, rubbing my head against the back of her mouth, pushed again.

I stopped my urge to grab her head, force her down on me. Her third try, without my help, brought her nose close to my stomach and a warm, tight new pressure surrounding my head. Then she pulled back, gasping as full, wide lips released their seal and opened wide.

Her eyes shone bright up at me. A 'C' of thumb and forefinger pumped up and down my shaft. "Cum in my mouth. Please."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The hand I placed on the back of her head did little more than encourage her back down. Her mouth felt hot after the cool morning air, the leaking refrigerated air, on my wet cock.

Her lips stretched around my, muffling soft, slurping sounds from within Weed's mouth. I had never cheated on my wife. I had never thought any sexual contact with this gorgeous waif would ever leave the realm of the imagination. I had never experienced a mouth doing what this one was doing to me.

My thighs began to shake. It must have taken no more than 90 seconds and I was exploding, with groan after shuddering groan, erupting streams of cum into her mouth as least as hard as I had earlier into Carrie. First time, I pictured myself plunging into young Weed. This time, I watched the thin beauty suck and swallow, suck and swallow, working fingers and thumb up my shaft to extract the last drops of seed.

Weed stood, dragging her slight body up along mine. Both nipples were obvious now through the thin shirt. Her long, lean back arched, pulling her face away from mine as she reached full height. She grinned, eyes down and suddenly shy.

"Thanks for letting me...do that." Her eyes came up, big, vulnerable, restless. "I'd really like to kiss you, but if I do, I'll fuck you."

I moaned at her words. Slim fingers traced my tingling shaft, still standing out with only a slight droop beginning. Her other hand tugged up at the hem of her shirt, exposing slim thighs and nothing but her. No shorts, no panties, no hair. Almost. The lightest dusting of short-trimmed shading darkened her lowest belly before it disappeared between her legs, away from my sight and the refrigerator's light. I moaned again, a lost, helpless sound.

She dragged my cock up between those thighs, hissing as she parted her own slick, bare lips with my sensitized head. I saw her eyes roll up before her head tilted back, exposing a long, graceful throat to me.

My focus locked on a thick white drop of my cum, under one corner of her mouth. It glistened in the light when she smiled. "And I won't fuck you without Aunt Carrie's permission."

Weed made a face of surprise, as though she had just had a thought. "Isn't your birthday coming up? Maybe this could be your present."

She dipped her fingers between her own thighs, large front teeth scraping back over her lower lip, narrowly avoiding pulling the single drop of cum into her mouth. My mind spun at the suggestion, especially at the notion that sweet, sexy, young Weed might want to go further than she already had with me, with a man twice her age.

"Now." Weed caught my eyes, held them with her own. A single finger rose and scooped the white glob from her lip. It shone, shimmering on her fingertip between us. "I'm going downstairs and think about your birthday present. This finger is gonna push that little bit of cum as deep as I can into my very wet pussy. Another finger'll start little circles, a little closer to my quivering, flat, sexy belly. And when the pressure in that belly gets to much, thinking about your birthday present - thinking about you pumping as much of your seed into my pussy as you just did into my mouth - I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum hard, thinking about your cock inside me, in your office, staring at your ceiling, smelling your smells and whispering your name. Sweet dreams, sweet man."

She spun on bare feet and was gone. I wasn't sure if I heard a final trailing giggle or not. I wasn't sure of much, other than that I was unlikely to sleep well at all.

Back in bed next to Carrie, I stared toward the ceiling again, picturing Weed looking up at another ceiling, cumming hard with her finger and my seed inside her. Eventually, I did sleep, because I awoke to full daylight, my wife's spot empty. I remembered she was heading to the airport early, to meet Eva's flight. The two planned on lunch and shopping before the drive home.

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byKethandra© 23 comments/ 131570 views/ 129 favorites

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