Stoner Slob - Part 11

Sorry for the long silence. I'm in the midst of overseeing some renovations for a new condo my boyfriend and I purchased together and things haven't been going well. All the stress has sort of made it hard for me to summon up the horny energy to write smut. I'm sorry about that, but I'm hoping to move sometime next month and for things to calm down after that. And then I hope to have more free time to write more porn. 

But I'm not here with excuses. I'm here with more smut. Enjoy :D 

Drew worked to pack his next bowl. His roommate had already gone to work after having refused to help Drew celebrate the Green Party’s election win last night. He was a tight-ass, always on his case to clean up his room, do his laundry, vacuum, and on and on and on. He just didn’t get it--today was a day for celebration! The whole freakin’ city waked and baked--at least, according to Drew’s Twitter timeline.

Apparently, Drew’s roommate didn’t follow the same people. Instead, he told Drew to remain sober enough to answer the door. He’d called a repair guy to fix the dishwasher, which had been on the fritz for a week. Drew hardly noticed--he thought it was entirely normal to have dishes in the sink stacked to the ceiling.

Whatever, he’d said. He could open the door even blazed out of his mind. In fact, maybe this could be the highlight of my day, he thought as he inhaled another lungful of THC-laden smoke. Yeah, just like in those pornos. The hot repair guy shows up and before he can even step through the door he’s laying out a huge pipe. Mmf. Just the thought was enough to get Drew hard in his ripped boxer briefs.

The doorbell rang as if on queue, although Drew was so stoned he didn’t even realize it had already been an hour since his roommate left. He hoisted himself off the couch and waddled his way to the door, completely forgetting to put on a shirt or pants.

“Hey, I’m here to fix your dishwasher,” the repair guy offered.

Drew was immediately disillusioned. Rather than the hulking ideal of a plumber he’d been expecting, this guy was practically reed thin. He had a cute baby face, but it was a far cry from the rugged chin and burly hair that he’d been hoping for, and there was absolutely no way he was packing enough heat to bulge those khaki slacks.

In contrast, the repair guy was more than a little taken aback by the mostly naked fat guy that had just answered the door, as well as the almost visible wall of stench that emanated from the apartment. It was everything he could do not to visibly crinkle his nose at the combination of BO, weed, and days-old dishes that struck him almost like a physical force.

The two stood staring at each other for a few awkward moments before Drew finally came back to the present. “Uh, yeah, the dishwasher. It’s right over here,” he said, unable to keep a hint of disappointment from creeping into his voice. He lumbered from the door to the kitchen where the repair guy brushed past, toolbox in hand, silently setting to work in order to get past the highly awkward introduction.

Drew stood and watched for a few moments before heading back to the den where he packed his third bowl in half as many hours. This was hardly like the movies, he thought to himself. Looking over his shoulder towards the kitchen, where the repair guy was on all fours tinkering with something or other, Drew confirmed that there wasn’t even the barest hint of plumber's crack.

It was unfair. It was practically a crime. Every plumber should have a huge ass and take payment in cock, Drew mused as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. He could hear a few quiet coughs from the kitchen, but the tinkering sounds continued.

Staring at the bong and the gently smoldering herb still on the bowl, Drew had an uncharacteristic burst of motivation. He’d have to make his porn-star dreams come true. And to do it, he’d need to smoke a fuck-ton of weed.

A third bowl, then a fourth, and then a fifth sent Drew flying high--almost higher than he’d ever been. But it was all part of his plan to hotbox the entire apartment. Already the air was thick and heavy, swirling twists of marijuana dancing from room to room. It was thickest in the living room, but clouds had already formed in the hallway and soon rolled into the kitchen. The light coughs of the repair guy soon became whoops filled with spittle, dry hacks, and then a few desperate-sounding inhalations. This was followed by a loud thumb, then the sound of metal clattering on tiles. Then silence.

It was on Drew’s seventh bowl that he finally stood up on wobbly legs to inspect what he’d wrought. It was hard to even see the door leading to the hall and then the kitchen, but he managed to push past the smoke to arrive at a far more appealing sight.

The repair guy was already twice the size he used to be. It really only brought him up to what Drew considered to be dangerously malnourished, but it was enough that he could make out the start of the oh-so-important plumber’s crack. Those two buns were definitely rising in the smoky atmosphere, and as they did, they stretched the repair guy's slacks to the absolute limit and pushed up his shirt to reveal more of his softening backside.

Drew noticed that he didn’t seem to know what was happening. He just sort of sat there staring confusedly at two wrenches, visibly wondering which one was the correct tool to continue removing the dishwasher’s door. Eventually he gave up, grabbed a hammer, and started banging at the metal seemingly at random.

All the while his clothes became more and more stretched out as the reedy repair guy grew. First it was his ass and legs, which grew thick and powerful. Then his middle began to expand, exposing a growing belly that caused the repair guy’s shirt to rise further and further as his gut sank lower and lower. Drew watched eagerly as folds of flesh formed on the back of the repair guy’s neck followed by a rapid expansion of his shoulders and deltoids. Soon he was as wide as Drew and threatening to burst out of every article that clothed him.

Of course, at this point, the guy didn’t have a clue what was going on. In truth, Drew was so high that he didn’t really have much sense of reality either. All he knew was there was suddenly a big, burly repair guy with red-rimmed eyes and rips forming in his shirt sleeves just waiting for him to make the first move.

So he did. Drew sat down heavily by the repair guy, who seemed to smile at the sudden company. Then he took the tool from his hand, placed it on the ground, then leaned over and kissed him.

The repair guy’s widening face was initially shocked at the forwardness of what was still technically his customer, but his surprise soon melted as Drew’s warm lips drew the attention of his every remaining neuron. They were soft and smoky with the clear hint of unburnt marijuana leaves offering an earthy tinge. And they promised so much more to come.

It was tough getting the guy out of his clothes. His shirt was already tight across his chest, bearing a significant amount of gut and butt to the open air, but Drew eventually managed to pull the fabric up and over his increasingly bulbous head. Free to expand fully, the repair guy’s belly flopped over his belt buckle as his expanding moobs jiggled above. A double chin was open, slack jawed at the incredible situation it found itself. This sort of thing only happened in internet porn, not real life.

Drew pressed, lips against lips, hands on tits, and moaning like he meant it. The repair guy responded in kind, all thoughts of fixing a dishwasher gone. He needed to fuck this fat-ass, feel himself slide between those pillowy ass cheeks as he ran his tongue down his scruffy neckbeard. Drew almost tittered as thoughts became deed, the smoke and the heat causing a bead of sweat to roll down the side of his face only to be caught by the repair guy’s tongue almost at his shoulder.

He was getting really big now--almost as big as Drew, but stronger. A working man. There were firm muscles beneath that significant padding, but you’d have to be up close and personal to know that. And Drew was getting more than up close and personal as he slipped a hand beneath the repair guy’s gut to unbuckle his belt. It took a few tries owing to how the metal clasp was on the verge of bursting holding back that much bulk, but Drew’s deft fingers managed, opening a path to his prize.

It was big, uncut, straining against the denim that barely left enough room for a few chubby digits to feel how hard and eager it was. And wet. Drew brought back moistened fingers to lick them clean in full view of the repair man’s enraptured gaze. It was too much for him. Using that newfound and yet familiar strength, he practically tossed Drew to the floor beside him, scattering tools and castoff metal from the Dishwasher. For a moment, he appreciated Drew’s meek body, how he held his arms slightly up his exposed belly like a reprimanded dog. Then he dove onto the fat man, ravishing him from head to toe.

As he got to Drew’s loose-fitting shorts he wasted no time tearing them down his chubby thighs and impressively thick calves. A nub of a cock stuck straight out like a nail from a fur-covered fupa. Two big balls dangled beneath, so large that the repair guy couldn’t even imagine how they managed without being crushed between those chunky hams.

It wasn’t difficult for the repair guy to suck Drew to the base, but Drew certainly seemed to appreciate it anyway. He moaned, he clutched the tiles, and eventually brought his hands to the repair guy’s head to force him to stop. “I want it,” was all he said, and it was all the repair guy needed to hear.

He stood up, finally letting his unbuckled pants drop. He wore no underwear--all the better for the repair guy to let his prospects know that he was always available on the job--and his thick uncut meat dripped pre-cum in the hazy light. Drew couldn’t let it drop to the floor, and he quickly scrambled onto all fours to lick the tip of the repair guy’s quivering meat.

Somewhere in the deepest recession of the repair guy’s mind he recalled losing his virginity. It was to a very powerful woman, one that took what she wanted and left. She remained in control throughout all aspects of their lovemaking, using him as little more than slightly interactive dildo.

But the haze made it seem even more distant… so distant that the memory seemed to belong to another person. He remembered actually losing his virginity in highschool, fucking his shy but definitely willing quarterback friend in the lockeroom after practice one day. More than football was that moment, and the relationship it formed thereafter, when he learned to use his power to gratify his sexual partners.

Drew was a lot heavier than most of his highschool conquests, but he was still heavy enough to hoist the fat man’s legs over his shoulders, lifting his enormous ass off the ground high enough for the repair guy to merely thrust his pre-cum-slcked cock into his hole in one clean movement. Drew shouted less in pain but more the shock of suddenly being flat on the floor to partially in the air with a cock in his ass, but he soon recovered and found that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

He wasn’t very long, but Drew discovered he was thick as hell. It was like getting railed by a coke can attached to a horny bull. Above him in the mists of weed smoke Drew heard the grunts and deep intakes of hazy air as the repair guy fucked him with a gusto reserved for breeding livestock.

The repair guy knew he was alright at fixing things, but what he was really good at was fuckin’. Good ‘ol, dosey doe, take your partner for a ride kind of fuckin’. He could go for hours or for minutes, using his strength to reposition his lucky conquest in every which way. But he was still technically on the clock and cold tile floors weren’t really great to roll around on. He knew the best way to finish was right here, right now.

Luckily, it seemed to him like his customer was already on the verge of blowing his load. Drew’s stubby cock was flinging strings of pre-cum all over his belly with each thrust pumping out more. The repair guy lifted Drew just a tiny bit more to change his angle of entry, to get the most of his girthy battering ram and send this fat boy to the moon.

And in a few more thrusts, he did. Drew practically howled as he came, jets firing off into the smoke only to land on his fat face, his wobbling tits, then his heaving belly. The final few spasms just caused an impressive amount of cum to burble up and out like an erupting volcano that was saturating the landscape in superheated fluid.

The repair guy hadn’t cum. It’s not that he didn’t want to, or that he couldn’t, but he’d taken a strange liking to this tubby guy. And as much as he’d clearly pleasured his customer into a five-star review, he also knew he could do better.

“Did you finish?” Drew asked, breathless and pawing dumbly at the jizz that coated his torso.

“No,” the repair guy said. “But I’ll give you my card. Give me a call and you can finish me after hours.”

After that, he let Drew gently down, then gathered up his things and left. It took Drew 10 minutes ot finally come down from both his high and the most intense fucking of his life to look on his counter for the card the repair guy left. On the back was his name--Jason--and his number.

When Drew’s roommate came back from work, he was furious to find the dishwasher still wasn’t working. But at least Drew wasn’t home either. He was waiting outside Jason’s door, ready to finish what they’d started earlier that day.