I was looking for some weed, but found something much better.

As a college student in the early 1980’s I was working part time at the local “Indian” bingo hall as a security guard. I generally worked the late-night shift, patrolling and monitoring form 10 pm to 6 am. It wasn’t hard work and it allowed me ample time to study and do my classwork. I also met a lot of interesting people.

I was living as openly gay, but not flamboyant about it. I also wasn’t particularly attracted to the flamboyant types, either. My thinking was that my sexuality was of interest only to myself and those I was attracted to. I didn’t need to be ‘In Your Face’ about it all the time. I didn’t introduce myself as gay, but the straights don’t introduce themselves that way either. (“Hi! I’m Chad, and I’m Straight!” See my point?) My thinking was that if I was interested, investigations could be pursued, but otherwise, it was nobody’s business but my own.

While I was a very occasional user of the herb, (it would honestly be weirder if I wasn’t, ) I didn’t have a regular supplier, and it had been some months since my last ‘buy.’ The semester had just ended, so I didn’t need to concentrate on studying for a while, and finding a new supply of ‘bud sounded like a good idea. I made some discrete inquiries, and was directed to one of the native workers, Henry.

Henry was pretty typical for one of the natives, somewhat shorter than average, not much. Stocky and strong with black hair and eyes. My ‘gaydar,’ (never really reliable, ) had pinged on him a time or two, but we just hadn’t had the chance to talk much.

Henry told me that he had a good supply of local but high-quality produce, and quoted me what sounded like a very reasonable price. We came to an agreement, and he told me to meet him at his house nearby on the reservation when I got off work.

At the end of my shift, I hopped on my motorcycle and cruised out to his place. It was early morning, about 6:30 am, and I had few, if any expectations.

Henry met me at the door and invited me in. I was a bit surprised to find him in his underwear, but figured that he’d just rolled out of bed, so I wasn’t shocked. Looking him over, I noticed that while he was stocky, he was a lot more muscular than I’d originally thought, I also noted an interesting lack of body hair, his chest, back, arms, and legs were very smooth, all in a lovely coppery color. He also had a cute ‘bubble butt’ and a very interesting bulge in the front of his briefs. He was sexy as hell. I tried not to drool as I followed him in.

He directed me to his living room, where I found four more of the local native men sitting around in their underwear, watching something on the TV. I honestly wasn’t paying any attention to the box. All of these guys were hot! Again, I did my best not to make a fool of myself, but I’m not sure how successful I was.

I made a joke about how I hoped I wasn’t interrupting anything, and if I was, could I join in? I got some nods, a couple of chuckles, and an invitation to sit on the couch.

I handed Henry his cash, and he disappeared deeper into the house. He came back a few minutes later with a quarter-ounce baggie of dank herb and a sorting tray with rolling papers. Henry said something about ‘checking the quality of the goods,’ and proceeded to expertly roll up a couple of very fat joints. He handed me one with a lighter, and I sparked up and took a lungful of the fragrant smoke. This was some really primo weed! The smoke was smooth, not harsh at all, and I could feel the effects almost immediately. I passed the joint around, and it made a couple of times around the room before the roach came back. I was definitely under the influence.

We sparked up the second fatty, and by the time it was gone, the room was spinning. I told Henry that I’d intended to leave, but that there was no way that I was in any condition to drive. He replied that they didn’t have any plans, and told me to get comfortable. In my state, I thought “when in Rome...” and proceeded to strip down to my underwear before I remembered that the undergarment that I was wearing was a bright blue satin jockstrap. (Hey, it’s comfortable, aside from providing nice access.) That got me some interesting looks.

I sat down next to Henry, and his hand went straight to my knee. That felt nice, so I left it there, and put my hand somewhat higher on his leg. That smooth skin felt wonderful under my fingers!

Henry rolled up another joint and asked me, “Have you ever shotgunned?” I gave him a confused look. He sparked up the joint, took a mouthful of smoke, put his lips against mine, and blew the smoke into my lungs. It felt good, so I continued the kiss, and slipped my tongue into his mouth. We made out like that for a few minutes. I was high, so it could have been longer. I just knew I was enjoying myself.

I looked around to find that we appeared to be the focus of all eyes in the room. I looked a question at Henry.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s a cultural thing. Unmarried men of the tribe,” he gestured around the room to include everyone there, “are expected to get together and help each other out. Would you like to join us?”

What could I say to that but “Yes! Please!” The weed had me horny as hell and my inhibitions somewhere between ‘low’ and ‘non-existent.’ I leaned into him and kissed him again, holding the back of his head with one hand while rubbing the other on his cock. We necked and made out for a while, in that indeterminate ‘no-time’ that a good weed buzz makes. After a bit, I dropped down and tongued, sicked and lightly bit his small but rock-hard and beautifully sensitive nipples. That got my first moan out of him, and I smiled around that tasty little bump.

I dropped further, on to my knees in front of him, and found his undershorts missing. I guess I’d been busy. His cock was an impressive seven inches of coppery flesh with sparse pubic hair. He was pulsating slightly, and I saw a dew drop of precum forming at his slit. I dove in and licked it up.