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Anyway we gay teen boys talked until the next bus was almost gay teen boys due, and then I asked her: "When are you supposed to be home?" The defenses visibly came back up as she asked me: "What do you want to know for?" "Well, if you have the time, Ive got a place near here with some good hash we could use," I replied. This was both true and odd. Odd because I don normally use the stuff. I had a fellow I knew years ago stay in my place the weekend before while he was in town, and he left me a bunch of gay teen boys it as payment. I had not expected any payment, and especially not that; either that fellow never knew or had forgotten that cannabis has no real effect on me. So I hadn been sure what to do with it. Now I knew -- I could use it to talk longer with this girl than we could otherwise without being conspicuous, and being indoors might allow other things to develop, one never knew. She hesitated and thought. (Cynthia was her name, by the way.) Cynthia finally told me that she was interested, that she was not expected home until six -- it was one-thirty then -- but "How far away are you from the bus to Cherry Hill? Where does it stop near you?" I squinted and said about thirty feet. My apartment was near the second bus stop further along. She got up, I got up, and if we hadn swerved south to get to my place, the bus would have passed us. (Indeed, it did, but we gay teen boys couldn see it.) Cynthia looked around my apartment a little nervously while I got the drug and pipe out. (The pipe I had because I found it in an alley and Im a packrat, though it does get used at parties.) She got hit hard by the first few puffs and was soon nudging the clouds aside. I used the pipe too, so she didn get nervous, though as I say it does nothing for me, or nothing I really like. I have had people give me varying explanations for that, from body chemistry to personality type to my being unable to relax. That last only comes from people who don know me; those who do know they have to check gay teen boys for breathing once in a while. Its not too uncommon a reaction if you ask as I have, and I sometimes gay teen boys wonder why all these drug studies never mention that.

I mean remembering that the first people to test heroin were all immune to being addicted to it... The girl was drifting, mumbling about how good she felt, and I said: "Ive got something I bet you would like, especially now." "What is it?" "A lava-lamp." "Huh?" I explained to her what it was. I gay teen boys had seen an old one when I was a gay teen boys kid, and then somebody started making them again five or six years back, and I bought one last year. That Galvaneyes store had gay teen boys them in the back, in fact, though I guess since they were in boxes there, she didn know what they were. I led her to it. Either because she was feeling comfortable or really mellow, she didn mind that it was sitting in my bedroom. The lamp had been gay teen boys on last night for a while, so it only took a few minutes for the purple liquid to warm up and start moving up and down. Cynthia sat in a chair and stared gay teen boys at it, zoning out even further. After a while she slumped down, and then giggled as she slid down to the floor. Fortunately I had swept up a couple days ago, so it gay teen boys wasn too dusty. Cynthia tried to keep a conversation going gay teen boys, but she kept losing her train of thought, and she asked me three times in an hour what I did for a living -- though I had told her on the bench at the bus stop. By the third time I was giving her a one-sentence answer, and distracting her in the middle of the sentence. I got to thinking of seeing if she wanted to fool around some. Well, I had thought about that before, really, but now I decided to do something. I went back out and got the hash pipe and the stash and gave Cynthia some more. I sat on my bed and she knelt in front of me while we passed it back and forth gay teen boys. I dropped off my shoes. When she was way up there, I lay back and she got up and joined me, lying beside me. "Whys it moving like this?" she asked me. "Its a waterbed." "Oh yeah, I heard about them gay teen boys. Didn think they made them any more,." she said, slurring the words. "They do. A woman I know broke her hip going off a motorcycle and got one because it was more comfortable when she was getting better. And when I was looking for a bed for this place, I found that it was about as cheap as a regular one, and more comfortable."