Shooting Up: Chemical Intimacy and the High of Connection

[WhiteBoiMi55ing]

Hi.  I've been lurking around this forum for 11 years.  Thanks for all the stories that I've busted a nut to.

I AM NOT A WRITER.  I apologize in advance for the editing.  It was done on a horrible HP keyboard that I will be throwing away now.  I think the story is easy enough for people to follow.  Its styled well and no run on sentences, at least!   The one thing that you will notice is that I repeatedly change from "tenses" from past and present.  This was hard to correct since I was reliving the memories.  If a good editor would like to help me fix that, it would be much appreciated. THIS IS MY FIRST WRITTEN STORY EVER.  This isn't hardcore at all; but does involve slamming and homoerotica.  I would like to tell some other stories so that I can release some memories out into the universe.  Sadly one of these guys are gone and my therapist thought this (writing) might help ease some of my feelings.  Hope you enjoy, guys. 

▌│█║▌║▌║ E N J O Y ! ║▌║▌║█│▌

There's an undeniable tension between Ty and me, something more than just a drug dealer and an addict. It's a twisted sort of love, one we both seem to crave, even if we'll never admit it out loud.

I find myself thinking about Ty often, wondering what it is that keeps drawing us together, despite our differences. He's an oddball, sure, but there's something about him that I can't resist – something raw, something real.

I know he's fascinated with my body, with my cock, with the way I move and the way I am. And while he might not be able to admit it, I can tell that there's more to his desire than just a simple fixation on my physical form.

When I do meth with Ty in the room, I can feel his eyes on me, his hunger for me palpable. It's an intensity that I've never felt before, and I can't help but get off on it. There's something about the power play, about knowing I'm in control that drives me wild.

It's not just about the meth, either. Don't get me wrong, I love the high – the rush, the euphoria, the way it makes my body hum with pleasure. But there's something about sharing that experience with Ty that makes it that much more intense. It's like our addiction feeds off each other, like we're both getting high on something more than just the drug itself.

I think about the way Ty watches me, the way his eyes follow my every move as I inject, the way he can't seem to look away even as I stroke my dick for his benefit. There's a raw honesty to his desire, an undeniable hunger that I can't help but feed into.

I know Ty's caught up in his own addictions, both to me and to the meth, but I can't help but wonder if there's a part of him that sees something real in me, something more than just the trick he's dealing with. Maybe there's a part of him that's looking for something real in return, something beyond the high. I hope so, because I need him.

I'm no saint, and I know that I'm taking advantage of his fascination, using it to my benefit. But I can't help but feel a connection to him, a bond that goes beyond the drugs and the sex. It's like we're both drowning, but we're drowning together, and there's a certain comfort in that.

I think about how Ty will never have the life he wants, how his addiction to both me and the meth will keep him tethered to a world that's far from perfect. But at the same time, I can't deny the way he makes me feel, the way he pushes me to the edge and keeps me coming back for more.

We're both damaged goods, Ty and I, but there's something about the way our lives intersect that makes us fit together in a way that's almost perfect.

It's a twisted kind of love, one that I don't think either of us will ever find anywhere else.

And as I get ready to slam another dose, as I **watch** Ty **watch** me, I can't help but think about how much I'd do for him, how far I'd go to keep our twisted little dance going. It's not just about the high anymore; it's about the connection we share, the bond that keeps us both __cumming__ back for more.  <<author's note: testing forum for Markdown support>>

I'm standing in our small, freshly cleaned bathroom. Ty can sometimes be a clean freak, especially concerning the bathroom and kitchen. Then again, sometimes other rooms of the house can look like the motel scenes from 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas."

The water is running in the shower, steam starting to fill the room. I've left the door wide open, on purpose, knowing full well that Ty would eventually wander in and catch a glimpse of the show I've got planned. The idea of teasing him, of making him watch and him to anxious or even possibly shy to do a damn thing about it, turns me on something fierce.

In my right hand, I've got the tourniquet, loosely wound around my upper arm, ready to be tightened when the time comes. In the other, a folded-up piece of aluminum foil, carefully tucked away until the perfect moment to reveal it. My skin's already itching with anticipation, the rush of adrenaline and arousal coursing through me.

I've always preferred slamming to snorting or smoking meth, for the sheer thrill of sticking the needle into my vein and watching the liquid turn into a rush of pleasure coursing through my body. It's a high like no other, and I can't get enough of it. The burn of the meth, the sting of the needle – it's all part of the ritual.

The water's getting warmer, and I step into the shower, letting the hot spray dance across my skin, washing away any dirt and odor from the day as I prepare for the main event. I like some smells and odors, even masculine ones, but I have a paranoid fear that I sometimes smell and that it might turn a client off. I sometimes become fixated on that.

So, I take my time, soaping up, rubbing myself down, and knowing Ty's likely watching me from the doorway. He's good at staying hidden in the shadows, but I know he's there. I can almost feel his eyes on me, devouring my every move, and it's making my dick swell in my hand as I stroke it, slowly, enjoying the sight of my own flesh.

I don't want to brag, but for my size, my boy stick looks rather large; God did me out of proportion, thankfully. Most people first notice the width of it; fucker looks swollen all the time, plump, engorged, even when soft. Then, they normally mention the length next. Right at 9 inches. At least 8 and 3/4, for real for real. FRFR. I will confess to looking in mirrors and even turning myself on.

I finish roughly washing my prized junk. My balls hanging somewhat low due to the heat from the water. I shaved yesterday in the standalone shower in the other bedroom. Ty gave me some excellent razor blades and sat in the bathroom with me, fixated on my downstairs area. I didn't get hard because I was nervous about having an audience while also handling something so sharp. I have accidentally made some stupid motions while fucked up tweaking that did damage to my joystick.

I mean, what kinda kinky pervert wants to watch somebody shave their junk? Other than my homeboy Ty?

I'm not sure why Ty's so into me; Jesse, this dirty, filthy addict. But I've learned to use his fascination to my advantage, toying with his desire while getting my fix. It's a game we play, and I'm always one step ahead.

The water's now steaming hot, and I turn it off, leaving a puddle of water at my feet as I step out of the shower, dripping wet. I towel off my hair, letting one small towel slip to the floor as I bend over to pick up another and also the foil from where I'd left it. The aluminum crinkles in my hand as I open it, revealing the clear shards inside.

I've never been one for subtlety, and I hold the foil up for Ty to see, watching his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of me, still naked under the larger towel, getting ready to shoot up. He's probably got a lil bit of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth; probably pre-cum leaking out of his semi-aroused pole.

My body was still slick with water; the water droplets on my tattooed arms began to evaporate as I focused on the task at hand. With the crystal now on the counter, I begin carefully preparing a shot. I take out a clean syringe and a small spoon, and I measure out a heroic dosage of clear onto the spoon. I then add a few drops of water to the spoon, and I stir the shards and powder until there’s nothing left but a smooth, liquid pool in the spoon's concave center. After adding my filter, I carefully draw the solution into the syringe, making sure to remove any air bubbles. My movements were practiced and precise, the result of years of experience. I could have done this in my sleep; hell, I think I have worked some shots up in my sleep. But, never while driving, I promise.

I find the vein in my arm with practiced ease, running my fingers over the crook of my elbow, feeling for the right spot. With my other hand, I grab the syringe from the counter, filled with my hefty dose of dope, noting the liquid filled chamber. I'm not one to skimp on my high, and Ty can watch as much of it as he wants. This is gonna be a master-blaster. So stand back, or get closer, either one!

The tourniquet, now tight around my arm, I trace my throbbing vein just like a hunter would sight through a rifle, to insure myself where I'm aiming. I'm getting ready to slide the needle when I notice how quiet it is. I normally turn on the bathroom fan, but didn't because I wanted to retain the heat and humidity from the shower. In the quietness, I notice I can hear Ty's breathing quickening as I set up the show for him. And, I smile, or maybe smirk, knowing he's getting off on this as much as I am.

I plunge the needle in, feeling the cold metal bite into my flesh, then slide it smoothly into my vein. I push the plunger down, watching the meth enter my body, feeling it course through my veins like wildfire. I let out a low groan as the meth hits my system, the rush of pleasure and euphoria spreading through my body like a wildfire. I mutter some curse words.

I guess my mouth must've been open because a tiny trail of slobber ran down my chin and landed on my abs. My dick involuntarily twitches, moving the towel still wrapped around my waist. It's a sign that it will eventually be rock hard and ready for anything.

I toss the used syringe into the sink, letting it clatter against the porcelain, and reach for the towel to wipe my arm clean. I stand up and turn back to face the door, my almost nude body glistening with water, my skin taut and flushed with excitement.

Ty's there, leaning against the doorway, his eyes locked on me. I think I can still hear his breath coming in ragged gasps. He's wearing a blinding white t-shirt and athletic pants that button up each side, like you're able to just rip them off. Though I sometimes still get confused about my attraction to some males, I'm no longer ashamed of it. So, as Beetlejuice would say, "it's Showtime..."

"You like what you see?" I ask, my voice thick with arousal.

Ty swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nods. "So fuckin'' much," he whispers, his eyes locked on my downstairs, which seems to be throbbing or vibrating from the drugs.

I grab my one eyed anaconda and shake it at him. I know I've got him right where I want him, trapped in his desire for me, unable to do anything but watch. It's a heady feeling, having the power to turn him inside out with just a look, a touch, or a comment.

"Hey, Ty. I'm not ignorant, man. I know you want it, don't you?" I ask, stroking my dick slowly. "I bet you even want to taste it? Even want to feel it inside you, don't you, man?"

He swallows again, his voice shaking as he nods. "More than anything."

"Then why tha fuck don't you come here and get it?" I taunt him, enjoying the power play. "I'm right here, all wet and ready, and you're too

He nods, his eyes locked on my hand as I continue to stroke my dick, feeling it flex and then grow in my grip. I almost never get dope dick; but I sometimes can't bust a nut. This shot of clear, though, appears to be getting me rock-hard and ready to burst though. So, luckily, I know it's only a matter of time before I will be cumming.

I lean back against the counter, spreading my legs, giving Ty a clear view of my cock as I stroke it faster and faster. The water on the floor steams up as I work myself into a frenzy, watching him watch me.

"You like that, Ty?" I ask, my voice rough with need. "You like watching me play with my dick while you're stuck outside? Wishin' you could feel it for yourself?"

He nods again, his face flushed, his eyes transfixed on my hand. "More than anything," he says, his voice hoarse with desire.

I can see the outline of his cock straining against his Adidas pants, and I can almost taste his need as much as my own. It's a heady combination, knowing I've got him right where I want him, trapped in his desire for me.

I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of my hand on my own cock, the meth-induced euphoria making every touch feel electric. I stroke faster, my breathing quickening, the sounds of my own pleasure filling the room as Ty watches me lose myself in the moment..

"God, I'm close," I say, my voice ragged. "So fucking close. I'm gonna come, Ty, and you're gonna watch it all."

He nods, his eyes wide, watching as I begin to really pump my piston, noticing my dick twitching in my hand, as my body puts itself on auto-pilot, preparing to empty my nuts and blow my load. The meth's got me wired, and I can feel the tension in my balls building, the pressure rising, ready to burst. My nut sack narrowed around my balls. I could feel that familiar sensation I craved of my cream-filled balls rising, snuggling up to meet my body. I could feel them drawing up and tightening, even feel my boy-juice flowing up from my sacred jewels and loading into my giant cum cannon.

"Fuck, Ty," I gasp, my eyes still closed, focused on the sensation coursing through me. "I'm gonna come, yo!"

He swallows, his eyes locked on my cock, and I can see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he struggles to contain his own desire. I don't think he's blinked a single eyelid since this drama began.

My orgasm hits me like a freight train, my body twitching and spasming as I erupt, shooting ropes of cum across the bathroom in every direction. I keep stroking my shaft, avoiding the sensitive head, a trick a mutual friend of ours showed me he could do that allowed him to double nut. My hips began bucking uncontrollably, and more jizz flew out of my balls, splattering loudly against the mirror, spraying the sink, coating the floor, and even a jet landed on the wall adjaent to the sink, painting the room in my silky hot spunk.

I lean against the counter, panting as I watch the mess I've made, knowing that Ty's going to be the one to clean it up. With a smirk, I say, "You can clean that up for me, you straight chasing relentless cock worshipper. Its all yours, and plenty of it, my white nigga."

Ty nods, his eyes locked on the cum-coated surfaces, his hand reaching out as if he's about to touch it, but stops short once more. His eyes flick to mine, and I can see the desire burning in them.

"Don't worry, you sick fuck, I'm gonna let you have a taste," I say, enjoying the power play one last time. "Just hurry and clean it up."

His face lights up with excitement, and he moves to start wiping the cum from the mirror, the sink, and the floor. As he gets up off the floor to clean the wall, I can't help but notice the bulge in his pants, the evidence of his own arousal.

"Once you're done here, you can do that other thang you do," I say, watching him work. "I'm high as fuck, so you might get an encore in just a bit. I mean, if you’re up for it,”

Ty nods, his voice shaking as he speaks. "Fuck yeah, bruh. That's what I'm talking about."

He finishes cleaning the bathroom, and I watch as he leans over the sink to retrieve one last smear of my cum from the mirror. To my surprise, he brings his finger to his mouth and licks it off, savoring it, with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Goddamn, Ty. What the fuck? You really really like my boy cream, don't you? Dayumm, like you for real for real, aintcha?" I ask, my voice thick with curiosity.

"Shit, man," I continued. "You fuckin' addicted to dope, dick, and my jizz. After all, they say it's the other white cream," I chuckled, trying to fashion a joke together but, as it turns out, I was too blasted to follow it through, and so it fell flat. Ty wasn't concerned about my comedy failings. He still was sucking MY semen from HIS finger.

"Man, I gotta admit that I do find that pretty hot. I mean, never have I ever had any client or fuck buddy that was such an openly dedicated and enthusiastic cum guzzler."

He sheepishly nods, his eyes locked on mine, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I think I just might be ah-dick-ted," he said amusingly, his voice low and husky. "But, its more that I feel closer to you when I eat your cum, like there's something more so intimate, yet twisted, about it. Look, this friendship we've forged, this relationship we have, has come along way in the past year, don't you think? Sometimes I forget that the only reason I even know you is because you STOLE my boyfriend’s Harley while he was in jail. The one I was still making payments on!" <<author’s note: I hope to work this story in eventually. Remind me if I don’t! >>

I raise an eyebrow, the memory also just reemerging to the front of my consciousness as well. Amused by his admission. "Well, consider yourself lucky then. I'll give you as much baby batter as you need to keep you hooked." Wow. That def fed my ego: I have somebody, by their own admission, saying that they are addicted to my precious jock juice.

Ty laughs, or tries to, as he is hampered by continuing to lick his finger clean. "I'll take all you've got, Jesse. Every last muthafuckin' drop." And with that, he stands, walks over, and sloppily kisses me on the lips.

(I forgot to mention that we both have big, full, natural lips. So, all of our kisses are sloppy, no matter who we’re making out with. Plus, Ty totes like 4 tubes of various tubes of Nivea chap sticks at all times because he hates dry lip, which he said he gets from certain batches of meth. If we ever smoke clear with our friends, we use a shabong. When Ty passes it, they know better to complain and just grab a towel and wipe it off from his previous nigga-lippin’ action.)

He heads back toward his bedroom to get more drugs, leaving me alone to enjoy the afterglow of my high and the twisted dynamic of our relationship.

I can't help but wear a goofy smile as I sit there on the sofa knowing he'll be thinking about that orgasm, my orgasm, for days. He loves me in an inconceivable way, but I know its real. Ty used to have all kinds of guys around, whether he wanted them there or not. They were usually boys younger than me, which were plentiful in and around Athens. He preferred the backwoods guys over the university ones. But, for slightly over a year now, since I've been around, he obviously marked me as his territory, and I haven't seen any more dudes hanging around in a long time. I sometimes check his phone. He never deletes anything and really is too honest to cheat. Nada. Other than porn, which I love too, there’s no signs of a significant or insignificant other.

I think to myself how lucky I am. I mean, he brought me out of homelessness. Once I realized he was a genuine person and got over his intense preoccupation with me, I realized I had the dick and the power in this relationship. I will reflect on this later, I tell myself.

For now, I'm freshly drained but still buzzing. My hormones and neurotransmitters are sending signals to my in the facis...Jed move away from there. Ty and I had lots of sayings and inside jokes between us.)

I feel the high beginning to wash over me in waves. It's a high like no other, and I know that no matter how many times I do it, I'll always be coming back for more.

The end.

[BoYGaSM]

That was a nice story.. I enjoyed it.  Thank you for showing a glimpse Into your story.

[ejaculaTe]

For your first story, you've done fine. Describing Jesse's insights into the power dynamics between the two provides an intensity not usually seen in many slam/PNP stories (or at least, the ones I've read). And bonus points [pun inTended] for no run-on sentences and for writing in paragraphs.

[JWC1202]

Wow. This is an unusual thing to find here, an actual love story. Not romantic in any usual sense, but a love story all the same. "One of these guys is gone" suggests that this is an exercise in grief, and, if so, it is a privilege to be allowed a glimpse into this powerful relationship. The flow of the story, even its patter of repetitions, give it a feeling of confessional poetry. Although I was hard throughout the story, especially at the erotic language describing the slam, this is something other than mere porn. It is raw and sad and powerful, something to reflect on, not just jack-off to. 

[JWC1202]

Just now, JWC1202 said:

Wow. This is an unusual thing to find here, an actual love story. Not romantic in any usual sense, but a love story all the same. "One of these guys is gone" suggests that this is an exercise in grief, and, if so, it is a privilege to be allowed a glimpse into this powerful relationship. The flow of the story, even its patter of repetitions, give it a feeling of confessional poetry. Although I was hard throughout the story, especially at the erotic language describing the slam, this is something other than mere porn. It is raw and sad and powerful, something to reflect on, not just jack-off to. 

Oh...and the photos....often a distraction to a good story, are a touching addition. 

[SlampaBay]

The photos are truly beautiful. Obvious pals, close as brothers.

[Pnp-pig]

This story is from the heart, a love story in it rawest form!

thank you

[partying.hard]

Incredible story

[BustInside]

I really liked that 👍👍

[DCWildBtm]

Amazing. Well done! So honest. I doubt many of us on this site could be so honest with himself/herself, I know I can't. Although you're not new to the site, I certainly hope this is just your first of many contributions to this community.

[jankoslave]

really liked your story and the pics  

[backpackguy]

Thanx WhiteBoi, luved the story...from the heart! Hard to believe this is your first written story...keep it up!! And if it is therapeutic, so much the better. And BTW, luved the cute pics.🧑‍🦰❄️💦🐷😋

[TheAficionado]

You’ve fashioned quite an unusual and sexy love story, WhiteBoiMi55ing. And from your preface, I take it that this is a personal story, too, one that is based on your own experience:

“Sadly one of these guys are gone and my therapist thought this (writing) might help ease some of my feelings.”

I’m glad I only read that after reading your story; I might not have gotten into it as much as I did (and I did) if I’d read everything in order—and started with the, you know, preface. But the knowledge that these things might have really happened to you? Well, that lends your writing more gravitas, gives it an emotional heft.

I was drawn to it even more when I realized that it wasn’t standard-issue Breeding Zone fare (not that I don’t read that, too). But your story is uncommon. Oh, it’s very homoerotic (as you warned us…in that preface), and it turned my crank quite nicely indeed.

But let’s relieve you of an erroneous idea: In your preface (again), you insist that you aren’t a writer. Ah, WhiteBoiMi55ing. You are a writer, and a good one, too.

Addendum: I only read comments from others after writing my own. JWC1202, what a well-observed, astute critique you’ve served up. That’s good commentary!

Edited Monday at 11:16 PM by TheAficionado
Added addendum after reading other comments.