Think about Sameera.

I reached down and gently touched my poor erection. All it had wanted for years was to experience what Sameera's body could offer, and it was difficult to be around her for more than an hour or so without feeling this ache from my cock that can only really be assuaged by getting off.

As I lay there on her bed, the weed started to hit me harder. Sameera was one of the most functional people when she was high, but sometimes weed just put me to sleep. I felt a little like a creep, admitting to myself just how comforting it was to be able to smell Sameera on her pillow as I drifted into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, the room was dark. I had definitely missed dinner. But shit, I was hungry. I checked my watch. I had slept for fours hours. I was relieved; it looked like neither Sameera or Ayanna had come back in to find me asleep and alone in their room.

I quickly got up and exited. First stop: bathroom. As I peed I could feel the dried juices flaking off my cock. 'Ugh. Gotta shower.'

Next I headed to the dining car. It was mostly empty. But I followed one guy to the kitchen and fortunately, there were some people working there. I asked about any leftover rations. They begrudgingly gave me a cold tray of leftovers, told me to eat quick and give back the tray and silverware. I wolfed the food down, gave it all back and began back towards my dorm.

But as I was passing one of the catering-like carts of food being wheeled past me towards the kitchen, I smelled an intense whiff of marijuana. I turned by head to see a man with dark hair in his early thirties wheel the cart not into the kitchen, but into a large storage room across the hall. I recognized the dark-haired man as one of the line cooks. I cautiously followed him. I still heard some noise in the kitchen and peered in through the small window in the door, but the few dishwashers and cooks were all intensely focused on clean-up. I pressed my ear to the door of the storage space across the hall.

I heard the cook talking to someone, "I gotta be back in the kitchen, but here, check this out." I heard him lift the metal covering that normally would cover a platter of rations, but the reaction I heard from a second voice made me think otherwise.

"Holy shit," said a second voice, clearly trying to play it more cool than he felt, probably some young dishwasher, "That's fuckton of weed."

"Is there space in here to store it?" The first, older man asked.

"Sure," he said. I'll just put it in these two freezer-bins and give em expiration dates so far away, no one will ever check 'em until we've gotten rid of it all."

"Perfect," said the dark-haired man, "The red striped containers, then? I want to have access, too."

"Yup," said the younger boy. That was all I needed to hear. Now I had a reason to spend even more time with Sameera if I could score her some good bud. I'd have to check back here later. But now I was tired. Time for a shower and then some sleep.