Bartender Slams
When I got back to the room with the fresh J-lube (nice and warm), and refilled bottles of water, the hall was silent. I made some noise with my key in the lock to let Ryan know I was back, and then went in and shut the door. Fuck! It's be just my luck that I'd get all ready for a good fist session, and then my fuckbuddy runs off with the new guy! (Paranoia, guys....stop overthinking when you're high...) I straightened the room up a bit, picking up stray pieces of paper towel and putting them in the plastic trash bag I'd brought along. Put a fresh rock in my pipe. Dried the lube off my titclamps. Reorganized the dildos. - - - Decided to drop another tab of "X," since it'd been about 10 hours since my last. Did a medium hit off the pipe to keep from crashing. Lit a cigarette and flipped through the porn channels.
'Tap, tap, tap,' came a sound from the door. I jumped up and headed to the door, my semi-hard cock still sliding around in the leather codpiece. I had to tear off a paper towel to grip the doorknob - still some lube on my hands... It was Ryan, with a wide smile and unblinking party eyes. He pushed his way in, and flopped on the bed with his leather bag. "Look what I got!" he said excitedly. I shut the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. He opened the bag and pulled out two syringes, loaded with a slam. "Ya wanna fly?" he asked, holding the thin hypos in the palm of his hand. "You think he's safe to do it with?" I asked, a little nervous (and paranoid).
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