Pull down your pants and reveal your goon cock to Chen

He cleared his throat, a sound like gravel rattling in a tin can. "So, uh..." Chen shifted on the futon, the springs shrieking protest. He didn't look directly at you, his gaze fixed on Midori efficiently demonstrating a complicated hip rotation on screen. "That offer about... appreciating together? Still open?" A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "I mean, the weed's kicking in hard, and... yeah." He gestured vaguely towards the monitor, then quickly stuffed his hand back into his hoodie pocket. "Just... if you're feeling it."

The synthetic pop music felt suddenly deafening. You hesitated, the warmth from the weed intensifying the low thrum in your gut. The awkwardness was thick enough to chew. Was this really happening? Chen seemed earnest, nervous, an outlier in his own messy domain. Slowly, deliberately, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants. The elastic snapped softly against your skin. You pushed them down past your hips, the cool apartment air hitting your exposed cock. It wasn't dramatic, just... there. Half-hard, twitching slightly with your pulse.

Chen said. "Fuck I guess white guys are bigger." He pull down his shorts revealing a nice trimmed smaller than average cock. He strokes it slowly. "Go ahead." He said nervously. "Goon your cock."

You start stroking getting hard with Chen. The weed haze softens the edges, making the screen's glow feel like warm honey. Midori's precise movements blur slightly, her kimono a splash of indigo against the surfer's frantic tan. Chen's breath hitches beside you not from arousal, but something tighter. "Always wondered," he murmurs, eyes fixed on his own smaller cock, thumb rubbing the head slow and deliberate. "If they... you know. Feel it different."

You could tell this weed is making Chen a bit more looser. You know his mind is open for the taking.

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