That was my signal to go on. I moved my hand to his think pubic hair bush, then rubbing his semi-hard cock. It was growing in my hand. Im sure that it...had to be at least eight inches hard. I let go of his cock and pushed his back to the bed as I climbed on top of him. I thrusted by hips causing our dicks to grind against one another. I looked him in his beautiful blue eyes and leaned in for a kiss. My lips met his soft juicy red lips. We kissed and our lips played with each others. I then stuck. I’m staring at him over one of Cypress’s old National Geographics right now – I like the pictures. Or that’s my explanation – I’m staring at Justin, who is eating a breadstick. What right does he have to be so cheery? ‘So you’re down in the Growhouse now,’ he says suddenly – I purposefully look up from my magazine. ‘Why?’ is all I can think to ask. ‘Maybe… Phoebe thought it was best?’ ‘No, I mean why do you ask?’ ‘Nothin’, just… I hear you guys were all into growin’ pot.’ I cock the brow. More

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