Hey, Elaine... wanna fuck?

«This weed… COUGH! COUGH! This Dutch weed is insane! Best twenty bucks I've ever spent… COUGH! COUGH!» Elaine exclaims between coughs, savoring a huge joint—one of those you only see in gangsta rap videos.

We lit it half an hour ago and we've barely smoked half of it.

No wonder—Elaine got it from a close friend, and instead of a couple grams, he gave her five for twenty bucks.

And top-shelf stuff, too.

What came out was a joint almost as thick as my dick. And trust me, that's saying something.

As usual during our little private hangouts, I'm down to just my underwear.

She's in a black thong and a white tank top with no bra underneath, and those perky nipples poking through the fabric are actually pretty cute.

We're sprawled out on her bed—she's lying with her head on a pillow, I'm stretched sideways across the mattress, and Elaine's using my stomach as a footrest.

On the TV mounted on the wall, hidden behind a cloud of weed smoke that makes the room feel like a foggy field, they're playing a romantic comedy.

Elaine normally hates those sappy things—except when she's high.

The reason is a mystery, probably because the weed makes her more emotional.

She tears up at literally anything.

Like just a moment ago, she was crying over a scene where the couple sat at a table, the girl asked for some salad, and the guy passed it to her.

What the hell is even emotional about a guy handing salad to a girl? Nothing, but she cried anyway.

And right now, the light-hearted rom-com takes a sudden turn—especially surprising for me, since I never watch this kind of crap.

After a long string of boring, endless plot twists, the two main characters finally end up having sex—Elaine claps and cries in the background.

She even tears up over two people having sex? Seriously…

But that scene suddenly reminds me of something my stoned brain had completely forgotten—how much I want to fuck Elaine.

Yeah, weird to forget something like that, but we're talking about Elaine.

I wouldn't even call her a sister—she's more like a brother.

So, wanting to fuck a brother isn't exactly something that crosses your mind every day.

Even if that "brother" has a pretty nice ass and boobs that, lying down, look like a solid C-cup thanks to how firm they are.

«Hey, Elaine, I've been thinking about this for a while. Wanna fuck?»

Just like that.

No buildup, no dancing around it—we're so close we just say whatever's on our mind without worrying about it.

But her reaction isn't what I expected.

Actually, considering she's Elaine and she's high, I probably should've seen it coming.

I almost feel bad when she bursts out laughing, tears streaming down her face like never before.

«God, Ren, you're making me piss myself laughing!»

Should I take that as a yes? Or a no?

While I try to decipher her laughter, her small bare foot with green nail polish shifts and lands right on my erection. She starts rubbing it along the length, which, pressed up by my underwear, is reaching well above my belly button.

«What a loser. You got hard from a sex scene on TV!»

«No, I got hard while asking if you wanted to fuck. And by the way, you still haven't answered.»

«Ugh, I didn't think you were serious. How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on in your head? With all the hot girls throwing themselves at you, I never imagined you'd seriously want to fuck someone like me.»

Oh right… Elaine thinks she's ugly. Idiot.

She's not a model, sure, but she's far from ugly.

That tomboy look of hers doesn't help, but even now—just in panties and a tank top, not her usual baggy jeans and leather-studded jackets—she looks like a totally different person.

«Fine, whatever. Just make sure your mom doesn't freak out at me. It's already a miracle she lets you sleep over here—probably thinks I'm a lesbian or something.»

«Wait, so… you're not actually a lesbian?»

Every certainty I had just crumbled.

Three things are supposed to be absolute in life: death, taxes, and the fact that Elaine likes girls. And when one of those pillars falls, the whole world starts collapsing.

«You idiot. Just because I dress like a punk doesn't mean I don't like dick! And seriously, you thought I was a lesbian and still asked to fuck? Was that just to check "bang a lesbian" off your bucket list or what?»

Oh shit, she's actually mad—I need to fix this fast.

«Come on, no! I've already fucked a lesbian. You know Jennifer? The redhead from fourth year. She's openly lesbian and even has a girlfriend—who's bi, by the way. It's a whole crazy story I forgot to tell you. A few months ago, Jennifer wanted to know if her bi girlfriend preferred guys or girls, so she asked me to fuck her. With Jennifer watching. Yeah, it was clearly some kind of fantasy, and it ended up being a threesome.»

Not sure that was the best way to calm her down, but at least it proves I'm not doing this just to check a box.

Elaine lets out a huff—I don't think she was too convinced by my explanation.

But then… she gets on her knees on the mattress, looking down at me with that dazed, half-high expression.

Clumsily, she pulls off her black thong, then leans forward and does the same with my underwear, freeing the beast from its cage.

Finally, she gives me a smile.

«Don't get cocky. I'm only doing this because you're my best friend and because you've got a very very big cock.»