What was That Movie About, Anyway?

It's movie night, and it's my turn to pick. It always feels like you get like three turns in a row, and here I go about to waste my movie choice. Some things are in service of the greater good.

I knock on your door with a bottle of wine, some edibles, and two bags of popcorn. The way we go through it, I probably should've brought a third bag. You're behind the door, already in pajamas. You don't have to walk home after, must be nice (joke). You take the wine and the popcorn, and I wrap my arm around your waist and kiss you, long and hard. You have that stupid grin on your face when I pull away, falling into me.

"I'll get the wine, you get the popcorn?"

"Yes," you say, drawing out the "y" sound and nodding. It's a silly little thing you do, and it's one of my favorites.

I go for the wine opener, and ask you if you want an edible. You don't have anything to do tomorrow morning, I argue, so we can have a lazy morning. I'll even try to make eggs, but I can't guarantee their quality.

The edibles are chocolates. They're 30mg each, but I don't think you got a good look at them.

"They're 10, how much do you want?" I ask, taking two pieces and putting the package back in my jacket pocket. You say you'll take two. God, this is going to be fun.

Two glasses of wine and a bag of popcorn see us settled in your room.

"Where's your pen? I just want more control over how long I'm high,"

You dig it out of the bedside cabinet, and hand it to me. I take a small hit, and wrap you in my arms. You're sitting between my legs, leaning back against my chest. I offer you the pen, and you take it without thinking. I hand you your glass of wine before taking my own, pretending to take a sip. You can't see my glass anyway.

It seems to take hours before the edibles kick in. You're way too coherent. I don't know how much longer I can help myself, but it won't be as satisfying. I satiate myself with subtle touches as I reach for the popcorn and intermittently offering the pen. It's about half way through the movie when your head lolls to the side, and you look sideways up at me. You have a serene kind of smile on your face.

"How're you doing there, honey?"

"I'm doing so good. I'm," You search for the words. "Not all here right now,"

"That's okay baby," I move your hair out of your face, "you don't have to be here," The popcorn bag is pretty much empty, perfect timing. I move it off of your lap, and my hand takes the vacant space. My other hand is playing with your hair. Your eyes are half closed; I'm not sure you notice when I bring my forearm across your chest and up to your throat.

You're so gorgeous like this, so compliant and... easy. So soft, just begging to be touched. I'm not holding your throat very tightly, not yet. I want to let you be soft for while longer. Your thighs are so nice to touch. I reach up under your shirt, run my nails on your stomach, your chest. I touch your nipples lightly, pinching and pulling, not hard enough for you to react.

My hands move in opposite directions, one arm tightening slowly around your neck, the other tugging at your waistband. Your eyelids flutter, and you let out a little moan. You scrunch up your eyebrows.

"Shh princess, let me take care of you," I'm at your hips now, moving towards your crotch. My grip on your throat is getting tighter. Your hands meet mine by your shoulders. You're not pulling, not yet. I make contact with your clit, and your hips move to reach my fingers. You still look kind of confused; I find it amusing. Tonight, I'm here to be entertained.

I'm rubbing your clit, and your hands start to pull at the arm at your throat. I can feel you swallow, trying to move your neck a little, trying to let a little more oxygen into your brain. I love it when you're stupid for me. I love when you make it easy for me.

"Maybe you've had a bit too much, honey. Are you feeling alright?" I'm still rubbing your clit, little circles to get you going. You're so wet for me already, I can tell how much you want this. You want to let go, just be played with and not have to bother with things like saying yes or moving.

"Yeah, I think I might've," stretching your neck and swallowing, "had too much," you say, tugging at my arm.

"Shh, darling, let me take care of you. I'm going to make you feel so good. Don't you want to be good for me?"

A grunt is the only response I get. That's okay, I would've kept going anyway. My fingers play at your entrance.

"You're so wet for me. I knew you wanted it, wanted me like this," You're almost grinding against my hand. "God, you're being such a whore. Stoned, drunk, you're practically begging," Your hands are still tugging at my arm. "Did you want a break?"

Nodding, you keep tugging at me.

Leaning down, I whisper in your ear, "Ask me nicely,"

"Please," you manage to squeeze out.

Since you asked so nicely, I decide to give you a break. "You're taking it so well for me baby," I say, kissing you on the temple.

Repositioning myself, I guide your fall and your head lands in my lap. With one hand in your hair, I pull your head up to ask, "How are you doing, sunshine?"

"I'm so high,"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Just be good for me, okay? I fumble with my belt. You're being so good, waiting so patiently. It looks so big in front of your soft, sleepy face. I put thumb on your bottom lip, gently opening your mouth. I don't want to hurt you, after all. I guide you to the tip of my strap.

"That's it baby, make me feel good," I move your head in shallow strokes, enjoying the sight of the drool dripping down your chin. Once I get bored, I sit you up, wipe some of the spit off your bottom lip, and kiss you deeply. "You're being so good for me, baby,"

You sigh and lean into me, burying your face in my neck.

"Lay down, honey, maybe you'll feel better," Another moan. I guide you down on the bed, face down, cheek pressed to the mattress. You mumble something that I didn't quite catch.

"What was that, honey?"

"I'm sleepy,"

"Yeah, I bet you are sweetheart. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

You nod, and nuzzle into the mattress. I touch your hair; tenderly, lovingly.

Your shorts are easier to pull down than I was expecting. I spit into my palm, rubbing my strap. I don't want to hurt you. But you're so wet, I groan as I start to stretch you. I have to spread your ass to get at you. You're so stunning like this. Just there waiting for me. I moan as my strap goes in, imagining I can feel how tight and wet you are.

I lower myself down onto you, knowing how much you like it when I put my whole weight on you. I move my hips slowly, kissing your shoulders and the back of your head. I don't think you're asleep anymore, if you ever were, but you're not resisting.

"I love you so much, you're so good for me. So pretty, making it so easy for me. You're my good little slut. You just had too much weed, that's all. It's okay, I can take care of you,"

I know you and your body so well, I can tell when you're going to cum for me. The constant stream of sweet nothings talk you through your orgasm. You make the prettiest faces when you cum.

Satisfied, I kick off my jeans, and lay down next to you. I give you a kiss on the forehead, lie down next to you, and drape my arm over you. "I love you," I whisper. You mumble something that I can't quite make out.