Sunday afternoon, when I walked in the door, Mark immediately said, "I got your message!"
"Good," I said. "I have a question for you. Are you taking pain medication?"
"Yes. The doctor recently upped the dose, and I'm thinking that maybe that made me throw up. Anyway, last night was much better."
"Has the doctor ever said anything about marijuana to help control pain?"
"No, but I've never asked either. Do you think it works?"
"I've heard that it does. It might be worth trying."
"Do you have any?"
"No, but perhaps we can think about how to get some. My problem is that the people at school who sell the stuff probably don't know me well enough to trust me."
We sat in silence, thinking about possibilities. "I've got it!" said Mark. "Bring me the black binder that's on the back of my desk." I did, and he sat thumbing through it for a few minutes. Then he picked up his cell phone and dialed.
When somebody answered he said, "Hello, Harris? This is Mark Russell." He listened and said, "Actually, not too good. I'm dying of cancer." He listened again before saying, "But that's why I'm calling you. Do you know how to get hold of pot?....Great. Can you get me some? It's supposed to help with pain and I want to try it…Super. What will it cost so I can have the money ready?....You don't have to do that. I can pay…Well, that's very kind of you. How can you get it to me?...Really? That's not taking too much of a risk?...No, my mother won't know at first, but she'll be cool with it…Great. I'll look forward to it, and I'll let you know how it works." He hung up.
"Harris wants to give me the stuff. He said he would wrap it carefully and deliver it this afternoon, along with some cigarette papers for smoking it. This is unbelievable."
About an hour later, the doorbell rang and Mark's mother came up with a package in brown wrapping paper. "Somebody named Harris brought this to the door and said it was for you," she said. "He didn't tell me what it is or how he knows you. He just handed it to me and left."
She gave it to Mark and stood, waiting for him to open it. "Thanks, Mom," he said. I'll take care of it and let you know later what it is. OK?"
She smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and left.
Mark tore the wrapping paper off and there, neatly packed in little bundles was the pot. "Should I try it?" he asked.
"You'll never know whether it works if you don't," I replied.
He opened the package of papers, took one out and laid it on his table. "I've watched this done on TV programs. Of course I've never done it myself so things might get a little messy." Then he opened one of the pot packages and tried to pour some into the paper, spilling more on the table than he got in the paper. After he had what he thought was enough, he tried to roll the paper. He made three attempts, spilling more pot, before he felt his joint was ready. He finally licked the edge of the paper and pressed it down. "Success!" he crowed, holding up a rather malformed joint.
"In the first drawer of my desk there are some matches," he said. I found them and took them to him. Smiling slyly, he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. I found him a jar cap to use as an ashtray. He took another puff and smiled again.
"What are we going to do about the smell?" I asked. "It's pretty distinctive."
"That's how we're going to find out whether Mom approves or not."
He continued to smoke as we talked.
Half an hour later, well after he had finished the cigarette, his mother appeared in the doorway. "Which one of you is smoking pot?"
Mark looked at me and said, "Oh. She recognizes the smell. I wonder why?"
"Mark, were you smoking it?"
"Yes, it's supposed to help with cancer pain so I thought I'd try it."
"Don't you know it's illegal? Was that what Harris brought?"
"Yes and yes. I know it's illegal, but I won't tell if you won't," and he smiled his favorite smile again.
She stared at him for a minute and then began laughing and Mark and I joined in. "Well," she finally said, "anything that can make us laugh these days can't be all bad and I suppose it won't hurt to try it."
"Mom. Why do you recognize the smell?" Mark asked, trying to sound innocent.
"I'm not going to go there right now. Have fun," she said, and left.
When she was gone, Mark asked if I wanted to try it. "I'm dying to," I said, "but I promised my grandmother I would never touch drugs or alcohol. Both of my parents were addicted to both, you know, and many people believe that the tendency to addiction can be inherited."
"You never told me that about your parents." He looked at me wonderingly. "In fact, this is one of the few times since I've known you that you've even mentioned them. Tell me more."
So as he lay back and listened. I told him how my father was arrested for dealing drugs and died in prison, how my mother had died, probably of a combination of alcohol and cocaine just after Joey had turned two and I was nine, how Grandma had come and gotten us then and how we'd lived with her ever since. I had not talked about any of this since we had moved to Mashpee. I guess Mark caught me when I was finally ready.
When I finished, Mark reflected, "I remember now you mentioned once that your mother was dead, but really both of your parents are dead. That's so sad."
"It is and it isn't. By the time they died, to be honest, there wasn't much of a connection between us. I'm pretty sure my brothers feel the same way, although we've never talked about it."
We chatted and read our way through the afternoon. Mark smoked two more cigarettes and said he thought it actually helped.
When I left I reminded him that I would be working next door the next day but would visit him first.
Walking into Mark's room the next morning I was greeted with, "Richard! The doctor was here this morning and he smelled the pot. He totally approved!"
"Wonderful! And your parents are OK with it?"
"Oh yes. We talked about it last evening. Mom even told me that they had both smoked it in college, so everything is great AND, he emphasized, "today is fucking day!"
"Are you still absolutely sure?"
"Yes. I can't wait." So I crossed to the door, closed it, went to his desk to get the K-Y Jelly, and returned to his bed.
"How do you picture doing this?" I asked.
"Well. First we should both get naked. After that we can kiss and cuddle for awhile. Then, you're going to fuck me and afterwards I'll fuck you. That's pretty simple, isn't it?"
In no time, with my help, Mark was naked and so was I. I didn't say anything, but I was appalled to see how much weight he had lost. He saw me looking at him and said, "So far, I've lost about a third of my weight."
"Wow! Is that what makes you feel weak?"
"Partly. Now, let's stop talking and get to it."
I lay on the bed beside him and did most of the usual things I did to get him ready. It took very little time before we were both hard as rocks. I leaned down, kissed his dick, his balls, and then behind his balls towards his ass.
"OK. Stop for a minute." Mark rolled over on his stomach and then did something to the bed controls that made the middle of the bed rise up, sticking his butt in the air. "How's that?" he asked.
"Looks good to me," I said, and climbed on the bed and between his legs. Opening the tube of jelly, I got some on my fingers and rubbed my fingers in his hole. He sighed, happily. After I was sure I had plenty in his ass, I rubbed some more on my dick.
Finally I said, "Be sure to tell me if this hurts."
I tried to stick my cock in, but met with a lot of resistance. "Try to relax back here," I said.
In a few moments he said, "Try it now."
Before trying my cock again, I put two and then three fingers in his hole. When the muscles relaxed, I pulled the fingers out and moved my cock in, just a little way.
"Oh," he sighed. "Wait just a minute. Don't take it out, just stop there."
I paused until he told me to go on. As my cock moved in, it became easier, until I was finally all the way in up to my balls.
"I'm in paradise!" he exclaimed. "Now move it in and out slowly."
I did, and he moaned some more. Suddenly, he gave a big groan. "Are you OK?" I asked.
"Yes, you just found my prostate, and now it's better than ever."
I continued to move in and out until I was close to coming. "Do you want me to come inside you?"
It took only moments before I did. When I finally stopped, he said, "Just stay there for a few more minutes," so I stayed until I was soft again. I withdrew carefully, got some tissues, and wiped both of us off. Then I climbed off him.
"Give me a few seconds to get my breath and then I'll do you," he said.
"I'm not sure you should. Maybe we should wait for me until this afternoon or tomorrow."
"No, Richard, I want to share this with you right now." He lowered the bed, moved to the edge of it and told me to lie face down, which I did. Then he carefully moved over on top of me and raised the bed. He took the tube of jelly and lubricated my hole and then his dick.
"Relax, now," he said. He did the same thing I had done with his fingers before laying his dick in my hole.
Oh my!" I exclaimed.
"Great, isn't it? But you haven't felt anything yet." He began to push gently and I could feel his cock moving inside me. When he stopped, he slowly pulled out again. The next time he did it, he hit my prostate, which sent shivers all through my body.
"Got it!" he exclaimed, and I agreed. "Do you want me to come in you?" I nodded vigorously. So he moved in and out slowly until, suddenly, he shoved in all the way and came and came. I could feel his cum spurting inside me. He kept moving until he became soft, and then pulled out. He wiped us carefully and then lay down on top of me, hugging me gently.
"I'm not sure I can get off," he said, giggling. We stayed like that a few minutes until he was ready to move again. He lowered the bed then carefully slid off one side of me as I moved toward the other side. We lay facing each other, our cocks touching for some time, before I finally got up. We cleaned up what we could. I helped him get dressed and dressed myself before putting the jelly back in the drawer.
"Well, what did you think?" I asked.
"I think it was the most beautiful experience in the world! What about you?"
"I hope it didn't take any time off my life, but if it did, it was totally worth it."
We sat quietly ruminating for awhile, and when I looked over, he was asleep. Since I had to work, I wrote him a note, left it on his bedside table and went downstairs and out the door. While weeding, I had a lot to think about.
In the afternoon, when I went back, Mark was sitting up, reading jokes. We talked over the morning and agreed to do it again when he was up to it.
That night, in bed, I was able to add to my fantasy of Mark as I wanked joyfully.