CN: drug use (weed). I don’t recommend drug use, and if I’m honest I’d always tell you that if you’ve never tried drugs and you don’t have a medical reason to do so, you should steer well clear. But I didn’t listen to this advice when I was young, so I enjoy drugs – often as part of sex. This is one of the things I like to do with them.
We like breath play and we also like getting high. The second part of that sentence means I definitely can’t put the audio of this post on Patreon, what with their rules about drugs being naughty and all. But it’s a good enough story that it’s worth telling anyway, because if you’re into weed and breath play too, you might enjoy this trick.
I’m lying on my back on the sofa. Reclining like a queen while he buries his face in my cunt and laps eagerly at my clit. I deserve this, I tell myself, because I just did an incredible job of sucking him hard with soft, wet lips. Then I held breathfuls of smoke in my lungs while he face fucked me till I choked and had to tap out to exhale. Each time I’d reach my limit and surface, trailing strings of spit from his cock to my lips, he’d look down with pride before inclining his head towards me once more, ready to kiss the next dose of smoke into my mouth so we could go again. Over and over – breathe in, suck, choke, gag, splutter and exhale – till his cock twitched granite-hard and throbbing with an urgent need to come.
We like breath play, and we like getting high. And taking a toke from someone else’s lips is one of the best ways to get high, in my opinion. Inhaling the very atoms that have just been deep inside their body… next, taking a part of their body deep inside my own.
I held my breath and spat on the head of his cock, then slid all the way down till it pressed against the back of my throat. Gripping his arse in both hands, tugging him further in. Half-smiling around his shaft, eyes wet and looking up at him with hunger. Greedy for more and more of that fat, pulsing dick.
He stood over me, fully naked, joint in one hand and lighter in the other, lining up the next lungful for me to take down once I’d coughed out the last.
I don’t know if this is something lots of people do, but I do know that I try to teach new men these tricks if they’re up for getting high. Something about being told to hold my breath, combined with the knowledge that the weed hits harder if I keep it in for longer gives a more intense atmosphere to a blow job. Floaty and horny and hyper-sensitive – each nerve ending of my body thrumming with a need to be touched. My cunt absolutely hurting to get fucked.
So now, after I’ve sucked him so hard it feels like he’ll bruise me when he stuffs it inside, I recline on the sofa and take the joint from his hands.
We play a little with head first – he tongues my clit while I smoke, then I lean forward to give him blowbacks in return. Kissing deeply (fuck I love the taste of him) as I exhale into his mouth, then nudging him down and gripping his face really tight against my wet cunt.
As I say, like a queen.
And feeling like a queen makes me more inclined to be dominant – switching things up from where they usually go, with him firmly on top and me squirming beneath.
I take the joint and the lighter in one hand, then instruct him to kneel up so he’s between my legs. Grasping his dick in the other hand, I crush the solid head of it against the dripping-wet entrance to my cunt, and slide him in.
A little moan of pleasure bursts from his lips as he enters me, and he immediately starts fucking with quick, short strokes.
“Uh uh,” I tell him, putting one hand firmly against his stomach to hold him still. “You don’t get to fuck me just yet.”
His eyes flash. Desperation, maybe? A plea for pity?
“First, I want you to breathe all of this in.”
He nods. Gives a quick pulse of his dick so I can feel it move inside.
“Then I want you to hold it nice and deep…”
Another nod.
“…and all the while you’re holding your breath, I’ll allow you to fuck me. But the second you breathe out, you stop. Understand?”
Oh yes. He immediately gets it. The next nod is blurred as he leans forward swiftly, mouth open and ready for me to dispense that first dose of weed, plus permission to go for it.
And holy fuck does he go for it.
The immediate burst of energy with which he rails me takes my own breath away. Instantly he’s pounding with rapid, intense strokes – the ones that tell me he isn’t just shagging for fun but for purpose. Holding his breath, lips tight and face tense with the effort of keeping it in, he pounds me with urgent brutality. Bruising the back of my already-sore cunt and gripping my thighs as tight as he can to hold me steady on the slick leather sofa.
Then, as swiftly as it started, it ends.
He pours out a long, deep breath and stops dead still where he’s kneeling – dick buried deeply in my body. I grin at him, and he grins back, squirming his hips a little to get some extra sensation. But that’s against the rules I’ve laid out, so I put my hand down to his stomach again to make sure he holds still. Then I take a nice long toke on the joint and beckon him forward for another deep kiss.
This time, when I kiss the smoke into his mouth, his quick-fire railing doesn’t take me by surprise. I’m ready enough for it that I’ve already clenched my cunt in pre-emptive anticipation, wanting to feel every detail of the girth of him as he fucks it home. While he’s doing that, he grabs my spare arm by the wrist and holds it up so my hand is covering his mouth.
This is hot, but make no mistake: I am not actually restricting his airways. He can still breathe through his nose, and my hand is not clamped so fully over his mouth that he couldn’t open it if he chose to. The hand-over-mouth is a tone thing, not a deliberately obstructive act. As I’ve covered before on the blog, I don’t do choking any more, and I’m interpreting ‘choking’ very broadly: nothing that restricts someone else’s breath, and no requests to them that they restrict mine. I clamp my hand over his mouth because he’s shown me that’s what he wants, but he knows I won’t press tight enough to stop him exhaling when he needs to.
After thirty seconds or so of the most vicious banging I’ve been treated to in a while, he realises he definitely needs to. Puffs out huge lungfuls of air as I whip my hand away, and – like a very good boy – immediately stops ploughing my cunt, and becomes still. The very picture of twitching, desperate patience. I twitch my cunt around him a few times as reward, and he moans.
I dispense another lungful of weed, and this time I don’t need him to physically move my hand: I’m a fast learner. So the second he withdraws from my own mouth, lips taut to avoid letting the smoke escape, I place my hand back over his mouth again. Not restricting, just reminding. Don’t you fucking dare breathe out: keep fucking. Keep going.
Keep slamming your dick into my cunt until your body can’t keep pace any more and the oxygen’s run low and your energy is drained and even though you want to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you let go all of your cum, you’re limited by the fragility of your human need to breathe.
He breathes.
Gasping, deep and urgent and entirely focused on what happens next. Focused on my fingers holding the joint and my lips ready to suck down another lungful of it for him. On my body, laid out naked in front of him. Casually accessible. All mine but loaned to him for as long as he can do as he’s told and hold his breath while he rails me.
It’s beautiful when a boy is hot for me. There’s something mesmerising about the way they tremble if I make them wait before I let them fuck. And there’s something powerful, too, about seeing his lips slightly parted in anticipation of a kiss.
By giving him breath, and allowing him to fuck me if and only if he’s holding it, all these things are heightened and magnified a thousand times over. The wretched self-pity in his eyes as he realises this breath is about to run out, followed immediately by the shining desperation that flashes into them as he leans in, greedy for the next. The urgency with which he fucks the second he has permission: starting fast and hard then growing – implausibly, almost impossibly – even harder and faster as he pushes himself towards coming. Knowing if he doesn’t get there now, he’ll have to pause and reset before he’s given another chance.
In those teeny little moments when I hold his stomach to stop him from fucking, and look into his eager eyes while I take one more toke of that joint… only one person exists for him in this world. He knows no one except the woman who’s just given him breath, passing atoms from her own body deep into his.
As he twitches and pulses inside her cunt in return.