You smirk and admit you enjoy toking up when you feel in the mood, and I question what sort of mood that is. Instead of waiting for your response I no... to your door and say I would like to be in the same mood if I could share a hit. Your movements seem awkward, but you make it to the door and beckon me in. I walk in and am hit with a musty, woodsy smell of incense masking the earthy, overpowering aroma of pot. You go to your kitchen and pull out your stash from a cookie jar and begin to roll. He had a condom on. This jackass had planned it out, knew what he was doing. He was obviously someone I had blown off earlier. He was relentless from the start. Full, hard strokes; he was out for revenge. "Bitch gonna learn today" he said. I was shrieking with each pound of his dick in my snatch. It hurt every time he hit my cervix. I wanted to get fucked so I didn't offer much resistance. An occasional "fuck you asshole" or "mother fucker" would come out. But more than anything, I. More

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