Resting peacefully on my bed, I was jerked awake in the wee hours of the night by the same sound I get awoken by nightly, often multiple times. It was the fierce and merciless cough of a female only inches from my ear who was resting her head on my shoulder just underneath my chest, followed by a brief spurt of heavy breathing for which her tobacco-laced breath was like a furnace blast right into my face. I opened one eye and watched as best as I could in the dark bedroom as Gretchen, my blond wife of eight years lifted her sleepy head from my chest and rapidly turned to the nearby nightstand. As always, her fierce nicotine craving meant she was like a bull in a china shop, reaching for her pack of Marlboro Reds 100s and lighter and proceeding to knock over the butt bucket next to it, spilling an overflowing bucket of ashes and cigarettes onto the floor.
A cigarette approached her lips and I watched the spark of a lighter bring the cigarette to life followed by a blast of airborne smoke that instantly filled the room as if a confetti bomb had just gone off. The bright orange cherry from the just-lit cigarette provided just enough illumination for me to admire the optics, watching a gorgeous female face ferociously ingesting the first cigarette she had consumed since she went to bed, dragging hard off of her first drag and producing smoke clouds almost unimaginable in their breadth after only a few seconds. The cigarette dangled from Gretchen’s lips and only after that first extended drag and the corresponding jolt of nicotine could Gretchen be bothered to look to the floor at the latest mess she made.
“Shit” she said, bending down to scoop up the ashes and cigarette butts off of the carpet. I watched in awe as Gretchen’s face was at my eye level, her cigarette still dangling from her lips as she proceeded to supersmoke the cigarette, taking one after another dangling drag to the point of breathing with the cigarette and releasing nasal exhale missiles like an angry dragon from a medieval fantasy. As gorgeous as the smoke blasts were, even more gorgeous was watching the cigarette stiffen and go limp between her lips with each dangling drag, the taxed-to-their-limits muscles in Gretchen’s lips showing off incredibly well-defined draw lines. This process played out for a good 30 seconds while Gretchen cleaned up her mess, and seeing her smoke this way was like watching an Olympic weight lifter’s massive biceps bulge when lifting a massive weight bar over his head, only with Gretchen’s “gun show” it was her oral muscles being exercised beyond traditional human capability.
She stood back up and put the butt bucket back on the nightstand. By now her Marlboro Red 100 was glowing neon orange and I could see there was a long ash hanging off the end just getting ready to fall. Gretchen was still half asleep and as I continued to watch with one eye halfway open, I knew what was coming next wasn’t gonna be pretty. She slumbered along, awkwardly pacing the floor next to the bed and I heard and a fairly substantial “thwack” followed by a clearly pained “owww”. It became evident that Gretchen once again stubbed her toe on the exercise bike in front of the bed, and the dominoes quickly fell further as the long ash from her cigarette then fell onto the floor. Gretchen quickly moved her foot to try to kill the smoldering cherry and managed to burn her other foot on it, once again shouting “shit!” in what was nobody’s idea of a “bedtime voice”.
Watching her hobble around for the next couple of moments, having caused pain to both of her feet, I couldn’t help but cut loose a subdued laugh. Suddenly, her attention focused on me, with the half-smoked cigarette still dangling from her mouth. “Babe” she whispered with her trademark husky voice. “Did I wake you up?” she then added apologetically.
“Seriously?” I responded to which she laughed a little herself. “Why don’t you just turn the light on before you become a paraplegic.”
Gretchen laughed and turned the light on behind her. After my eyes adjusted a few seconds after the room had just brightened up, I was delighted to see the smoky angel fully illuminated as she approached my bed. The cigarette which had never left her mouth since the first time it was placed there about 90 seconds earlier was still dangling there, with her strained oral muscles still clinched and exposing those draw lines even more noticeably with the light. Gretchen was very beautiful as she was the first time I met her almost 12 years ago at college, but right at the doorstep of age 30, she definitely had the look of a long-time heavy smoker, aging gracefully with exactly the right weathering of her features brought on by the combined forces of Mother Nature and merciless four-pack-a-day cigarette consumption.
Below the neck, the blond approaching my bed, seemingly in slow-motion, also impressed. She was wearing nothing but a very revealing tanktop, hugging her ample breasts while showing off substantial cleavage, yet ending just below the belly button. As she climbed into bed, my eyes were focused below her waist and her perfectly proportioned vagina for the split second in which it was in view before Gretchen snuggled right next to me as I began to sit up in bed, taking a final dangling drag from her cigarette before finally removing it from her lips, saying “sorry I woke you up babe” in a sweet but husky voice in which her talking expelled the contents of her recent drag straight into my face. As strong as her tobacco breath was when she first woke up moments earlier, it was really overpowering now.
“You can wake me up any time for a show like that” I replied putting my arm around her and pressing her stinky body even closer to me. “But no more acrobatics like that tonight. We don’t want you in the hospital for your birthday.”
Gretchen responded with a grunt as she took one final drag from the cigarette, carelessly dropping the still smoldering butt into the butt bucket she just tipped over. Clearly, she was not thrilled by the idea of turning 30 the next day.
“Ah, nothing to it” I said. “I’m on year four in my 30s and am as immature today as I was the day I met you.” I looked down to her face resting upon my chest and saw a smile. “You know every guy at that restaurant tomorrow night is gonna wish you were hanging on his arm….and that includes a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears college guys young enough to be your sons.” Gretchen laughs again, lifting her head off my chest to hit me in the arm and then finally noticing the sparkle in my eye that had formed while watching her. She recognized that look in my eyes and I recognized the ensuing sparkle in her eyes. In seconds, her mouth approached mine for a lustful open-mouth kiss. I have never gotten tired of the way Gretchen “devours” me while kissing me, attacking me as if I’m a sandwich air-dropped to her after being stranded on a deserted island for the last five days. The kiss, drenched with the hot flavor of recently smoked tobacco, was sensual as ever, gaining intensity with each thrust of our respective tongues.
But then I felt her pull away in what seemed like the heat of the moment. Most guys would have thought something went wrong with such a momentum-killing breakaway, but I knew exactly what was coming next. Gretchen turned her head and cut loose another fierce smoker’s cough. I smiled and she just shrugged with a smile of her own before pushing herself back towards me. The kiss pressed forward, with a likely follow-up act, until the creak of our bedroom door let us both know that this second distraction from our makeout session would be a permanent one.
A sleepy-eyed, blond-haired, blue-eyed little girl walked into the room, gingerly asking “Is everything okay?”
Both of us felt bad for our late-night antics apparently waking up our sweet young daughter. Looking at her standing there holding her teddy bear, she looked exactly like the offspring of her Scandinavian-born parents, a miniature version of Gretchen if there ever was one. “No everything is fine, sweetie. Come up here with mommy”, Gretchen said to our daughter Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn rustled on up and settled in our bed, lying between us. “Did we wake you, sweetheart?” Gretchen asked, kissing her on the forehead and making me jealous that our little girl was now the beneficiary of Gretchen’s ciggy breath rather than me.
“I heard a loud thump and could tell it was coming from your room, mommy”, Kaitlyn responded.
“Mommy hurt her foot by getting up in the dark. I guess I need your nightlight in my bedroom” Gretchen said. I knew it was only a matter of time until it happened and then it did. Gretchen reached for her pack of Marlboro Reds 100s, extracted another and then lit up. Looking at both Gretchen and Kaitlyn together with that smoky backdrop, it hit me how one was almost the end of the other. Gretchen went through a phase five years ago when pregnant with Kaitlyn where she tried to quit smoking. On top of the pregnancy, her younger sister Tina had a second incident with recurring bronchitis and Gretchen got her first direct look at the toll of heavy smoking. For months after Kaitlyn was born, Gretchen turned into something I never expected she would, resenting the smoking habit she was once so proud of, always going outside for every cigarette, and vowing that one day she would find the motivation to quit this habit. I vowed my support for when she did, but was dying inside every time I lived up to my spousal obligation with that support, dreading the prospect of a smoke-free Gretchen Paulson.
Thankfully her turn against smoking faded about six months after Kaitlyn was born and Gretchen has spent the past four years reverting to form. It would have been hard to imagine visualizing Gretchen in the pose I was currently watching her in four years prior, lying in bed and holding her cigarette only inches from her daughter’s airspace with a direct line of sidestream smoke drifting straight into Kaitlyn’s face and not giving it a second thought. And as the two of them continued to talk, I was amazed that mom was unable to pick up on Kaitlyn’s fascination, looking at the cigarette between her fingers with doe-eyed fascination and breathing heavily in and out to take in mom’s secondhand smoke. At some point I would break it to Gretchen that Kaitlyn is definitely her father’s daughter when it comes to fascination with smoking…but it wasn’t gonna be tonight.
The next morning, I was enjoying a slow period at work, drowsy as usual having gotten less sleep than I’d prefer thanks to my wife’s late night distractions. I was busy preparing a computerized birthday card for her during my downtime, with a collage of our old photos as a backdrop. I was really getting into it when I heard a familiar rustling sound emerging from the hallway. I turned to see Abigail, the high school page our office was giving an “internship” of sorts to as the office does every year during our springtime busy season. I had always got a flirty vibe from Abigail and once again turned to see her craning her neck my direction and smiling when we made eye contact, her long dark blond hair going almost all the way down her back. It was more of a friendly smile befitting a former southern belle like she was and not necessarily the come-hither seduction of a Lolita, but she was still on the borderline. And I was reminded of that again after she dropped off the main workload to my office’s boss and then headed to my cubicle, grabbing my attention by saying “and here’s something for Mark” and keeping my attention by sidling into my cubicle decked out in a tan blouse and matching miniskirt and parking her backside on the edge of my desk as she handed me the folder that had my name on it.
I tried to hide how uncomfortable she was making me as I looked up to her, straining to keep my eyes focused on her face rather than her sultry teenage girl body as I responded “thanks Abigail”. Her smile continued and as someone who always gets shy when a pretty girl is flirting with me, I found myself a little humiliated for being this shy around a 17 or 18-year-old high school girl. But the awkwardness thankfully subsided when she looked at my computer screen.
“Awww, she is soooo pretty! Is she your wife?” Abigail asked with what seemed like a hint of disappointment.
“Yep, that’s my Gretchen”, I responded.
“She’s beautiful!” Abigail exclaimed and I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were trained on one of the photos where Gretchen was smoking a cigarette. “How long have you two been together?”
“Well we met in college 12 years ago and we’ve been married eight years.”
“Awesome!” Abigail responded. “You two make a really cute couple”, but then sent the mixed signal of winking at me as she got up to carry on with her duties, shaking her hips in that skirt as she walked away and knowing I was watching.
As expected, my coworkers busted my chops for the latest encounter with Abigail, who kept pushing the envelope with her flirtiness every time she came by the office. I played innocent and pretended to write off her schoolgirl crush, but they knew I was loving every minute of it. And Gretchen and I are perfectly okay with a little bit of “coveting thy neighbor’s wife” in our marriage as long as we don’t cross any lines, so I wasn’t feeling the least bit guilty about flirting with Abigail on Gretchen’s birthday. As soon as I finished my work project, I finished up Gretchen’s computer e-card and printed it off. It was ready for Texas Roadhouse in a few short hours.
I walked in through the front door of our home that afternoon at 4:30, hustling home knowing there was a birthday dinner to attend in the not-too-distant future. As I stepped into the house, I was taken aback as I have been every day for the last three years that we’ve lived in the house at the extent of the tobacco smell lingering in the air. My home was Gretchen’s ashtray…and I was just fine with that arrangement. A whirring sound could be heard in the distance and I had a feeling what it was. I walked through the rooms and past several overflowing ashtrays and butt buckets, following a smoky vapor to the bedroom to find Gretchen in full workout mode, spinning the wheels on the exercise room in our bedroom at a hypnotic pace and not hearing me because she was listening to music on her iPod. I watched in silence for a moment, admiring the sweaty sultriness of my wife, whose natural blond hair was curling on the edges from the perspiration with the ever-present cigarette dangling from her mouth. She was wearing a black sports bra on top and her bare midriff was exposed revealing a killer set of well-toned abs just above her jean cutoffs, Gretchen’s long-time trademark wardrobe selection for below the waistline.
At no point in our early years was Gretchen a workout queen, but a quiet compromise she made with herself when she watched her sister get sick was that she would try to counter the effects of smoking by staying physically active. Being a housewife since the birth of our daughter, she has definitely maintained that bargain with herself, working out a couple of hours every day and sporting a figure every bit as sexy at age 30 as it was when I met her at age 18. I looked at the clock and finally had to wave my arms to get her attention. When she saw me, she slowly wound down her workout and took her earbuds out.
“You better clean up,” I said. “We gotta be there by 6:00.”
Gretchen nodded, with her cigarette moving with her head just as Kaitlyn showed up. Gretchen looked at Kaitlyn and put her to work, “Mommy’s gotta take a shower and she needs her clothes ready when she gets out. You want to get to grandma’s on time to see Kilee right?” Kaitlyn nodded in excitement as Gretchen gave further instruction. “Pick out my black v-neck blouse and my white skirt and have them laid out on the bed when I get out okay, sweetie?”
Gretchen slithered out of her jean shorts enabling me to see her black panties before heading into the bathroom for her shower while Kaitlyn immediately went to the closet in our bedroom to get Gretchen’s clothes ready. Just watching Kaitlyn lie the blouse and skirt on the bed as instructed, I was already getting excited about the thought of seeing Gretchen wearing them in a few short minutes.
Kaitlyn left the room and I was getting ready for dinner as well when I could hear the bathroom door at the other end of the hallway open. After a gush of steam escaped the bathroom door, out came Gretchen in a towel heading towards me, but before she could even get to the bed, Kaitlyn came scurrying up behind her holding a pack of Marlboro Reds 100s and a lighter. “Mommy! Here are your cigarettes!” she exclaimed, handing Gretchen the pack.
Gretchen smiled. “Thank you sweetie! But you know these are naughty and you shouldn’t smoke like mommy does right?”
Kaitlyn gave a halfhearted and entirely unconvincing affirmative nod that apparently persuaded Gretchen but certainly didn’t me.
“Good. Now let mommy change okay?” Gretchen said as Kaitlyn left the room and shut the door behind her. I watched my personal peep show from my front row seat as Gretchen first removed her towel, giving me an even more direct look at her chiseled feminine figure in the buff. She then fired up a Marlboro Red 100 and let it dangle as she got dressed putting on her bra, her blouse, her panties, and finally that sexy white denim miniskirt, all without ever removing the cigarette from her mouth. Gretchen went back to the bathroom to blow-dry her hair, after which we were headed to my mom’s place to drop off Kaitlyn while we joined the rest of the crowd at Texas Roadhouse a few miles up the road.
Stopping at my mom’s house, I could see the car belonging to Gretchen’s sister Tina was already there. We rung the door bell and were quickly greeted by my mom and Tina, decked out in a somewhat conservative and matronly blouse and dark jeans, with the backdrop of the screeching voices of excited young girls as Kaitlyn met with her cousin Kilee, Tina’s three-year-old daughter. Both were gonna stay at my mom’s place for the night while we went out. Tina was chatting with my mom and she gave Gretchen and I a “get me out of here look”. Tina had had a pretty rough go of it in recent years. Aside from the chronic bronchitis and multiple failed attempts to quit smoking, her husband left her and she had become the stereotype of a burned-out single mom burning the candle at both ends. She was only 27 and still beautiful as all of the Paulson daughters were, but there was an edginess about her appearance and a cynicism in her eyes that told the story of a young woman who had lived a pretty tough life. But the look in her eyes at that moment also told me she had another priority. After saying goodbye to my mother and the girls, the three of us headed out. Gretchen and Tina immediately extracted cigarette packs from their purses. I took the opportunity to admire Tina as she fired up, taking a deep drag off the light-up and letting the cigarette dangle as we approached my car.
“Took you guys long enough!” Tina said through a talking dangle. “Mark, I love your mother but having to listen to her drone on while not being able to smoke a cigarette in her house drove me to my last nerve.”
Tina and I had a long history of brother-and-sister like banter and as I watched her smoke while holding the car door open for her, knowing that she had very recently made a good-faith attempt to quit smoking, I couldn’t resist a potshot. “I thought you quit smoking,” I said with a mixture of smugness and matter-of-factness.
Tina took a long drag and removed the cigarette from her mouth, with a smirk emerging on her face. “I did”, she responded. “But wouldn’t you know it turned right around and hired me back,” she added with a talking exhale which the wind carried right into my face as she got into the car.
Focus! I had to tell myself. This is your wife’s birthday. Don’t spend the night flirting with her sisters! Comments like that sure made it challenging though. On the drive to Texas Roadhouse, the car filled with even more cigarette smoke than usual with two Paulson girls emitting massive carcinogenic clouds. Hungry as I was, I was almost disappointed to have to get out of the car when we got to the restaurant.
We made reservations for 6:00 and it was just before 6:00 as the three of us stood outside. Gretchen and Tina were standing right near the entrance smoking their cigarettes and visibly annoying several people coming in and out of the restaurant forced to walk through their smoke, which the two gals were completely oblivious about as always. As 6:00 came and went, Gretchen and Tina lit up another cigarette right after finishing their previous round. I looked at Tina impatiently checking her watch before turning to us and saying “you can always count on Melissa to be fashionably late” to which Gretchen and I both nodded with a knowing grin.
A young couple then walked in front of the three of us en route to the Texas Roadhouse entrance. A tall, long-haired blond in a tanktop and jean shorts similar to what Gretchen usually wears walked hand in hand with her boyfriend and made eyes with Gretchen and I, both of whom were eyeballing her. A smile appeared on her face as she walked past us, and the smile evolved into a come-hither seduction look as she pressed on forward, focusing on Gretchen at least as much if not more than me. After the couple went inside, I looked at Gretchen who clearly took note of the girl’s heavy flirting.
“Kind of liked her, didn’t you?” I whispered to Gretchen, knowing Gretchen had a certain affinity for certain kinds of pretty girls even though she was safely in the heterosexual camp.
Gretchen nodded yes, adding “even I’d do her!” in the half-joking way she almost always does when I point out a hot girl to her.
At about 6:10, here came the familiar car carrying two familiar faces. Out of the car stepped Melissa and her boyfriend Zack. As they approached the restaurant, arm in arm with 25-year-old Melissa hanging all over Zack like a smitten schoolgirl, the contrast of the woman-scorned Tina and the bubbly, immature Melissa couldn’t have been more stark. Melissa sexed it up clothing-wise as well, upstaging Tina and even Gretchen with her leopard-spotted blouse and skimpy black leather miniskirt. The only similarity was that Melissa also had a cigarette dangling from her mouth as she approached us. Melissa immediately hugged Gretchen with a warm “happy birthday sis!” through a talking dangle as they hugged.
After the exchange of greetings amongst the five of us, it was time to eat our meal, and I made sure to hang back so I could watch what I knew was coming next. All three girls walked right past the ashtray in front of the entrance and proceeded to take one final drag which they exhaled into the restaurant as they entered and dropped their smoldering cigarettes, one by one, at the foot of the entrance only inches in front of the door. While the Paulson girls had all held out with as much militance as any smokers in America for years and years, the times caught up with them and rendered their efforts for smoking freedom in public places unsustainable. But they still engaged in minor acts of civil disobedience such as the one I just observed and it was always sexy as hell to watch them, knowing that somebody is gonna have a conniption fit when they smell the smoke or step on the cigarettes when entering or leaving the restaurant.
The waitress took us to our table. I was sitting between Gretchen and Tina with Zack and Melissa on the other side of the table. The place was quite busy and even though we had reservations, the waitress warned us it might be a bit longer than usual before we got our meals, which was not music to our ears given how hungry we all were. The three of us talked amongst each other for the next 10 minutes or so, and I was struck by the cacophony of smokers’ coughs emerging from three husky-voiced blond female smokers at our table. Particularly with her bronchitis issues, Tina really seemed to have an incessant hack that showed up every couple of minutes, but Gretchen and Melissa got their share of uncontrolled coughing fits in as well. Melissa’s boyfriend Zack broke the rapport by excusing himself to go to the bathroom. As Zack walked off, it was time for me to interrogate Melissa about him.
“You really like this guy, don’t you?” I asked, seeing the light in her eyes sparkle as she gave an approving over-the-top nod, which I certainly hadn’t seen from her when discussing any of her previous suitors. I pressed forward, steering the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go as quickly as possible during Zack’s brief absence. “Has he confessed yet that he has a smoking fetish?” I ask.
“No!” Melissa answers emphatically. “Seriously I have done everything possible to push his buttons trying to drag it out of him but nothing. But it’s sooo obvious he has the fetish just like you.”
“Oh completely” I answer in agreement as Gretchen starts shuffling through her purse.
“All this talk of smoking is giving me a serious craving. I think I’m gonna step outside” Gretchen says preparing to leave with an instantaneous chorus of agreement from her sisters preparing to do the same, but an evil thought crosses my mind and I motioned for the girls to hang back.
“Hang on a minute until Zack gets back,” I said. “I’m gonna mess with him a little.” The girls gave me shit-eating grins knowing I was up to no good and obediently hanging back. Within moments, Zack was returning, and I immediately began my subterfuge. “The girls are gonna go out for a smoke so it looks like you and I get to hang back and watch their purses,” I said to Zack with simulated exasperation.
A look of equal parts disappointment and panic emerged on Zack’s face, and he scrambled for a response before spitting out “well why don’t they take their purses with them and we can join them?”
Tina immediately chimes in, playing along “well we wouldn’t want the waitress to think we left and clear the table. Why don’t you guys just hold down the fort for us, okay!”
“Yeah, and the waitress might come to take our orders while they’re gone,” I added, watching Zack’s face look progressively more spooked contemplating the prospect of missing out on this perfect smoking fetish moment of watching all three Paulson girls smoking together. I tried hard to keep a straight face and then finally ended the con saying “ah what the heck let’s just go out with them.” A look of sweet relief that was all too familiar to a fellow conniving smoking fetisher like myself quickly emerged on Zack’s face as we headed to the front entrance with all three Paulson girls dangling the unlit cigarettes from their mouths the entire walk to the door. They immediately lit up once outside and the five of us casually conversed with no hurry at all to get back inside. But after a couple of minutes, Melissa’s still-raging hormones got the best of her as she turned to Zack and said “I’ll do your favorite thing in bed tonight if you can guess what color panties I’m wearing.”
Zack ears perked up and I couldn’t help but listen in and watch out of the corner of my eyes as he stroked his chin as if considering it. “Red!” he settles on.
“Nope!” responds Melissa.
“Brrrr” she says making a buzzer sound to indicate he was wrong again.
“Black” he guesses again.
“No dice pal.”
Zack, who already had his arm around her waist, then proceeded to cheat and he unzipped her leather skirt and took a peek under the hood. Melissa gave him a playfully shocked look as he did this and Zack’s face lit up at what he saw. “It’s a trick question when you’re not wearing any panties at all…so I get full credit and you’re gonna be serving my beckon call in bed tonight,” Zack responds, impressing me with how well he managed to keep his wits about him when going head to head with a Paulson girl.
“We’ll negotiate the final terms later” Melissa responds as he zips her skirt back up and she pulls in for a long open-mouth kiss, holding her cigarette only inches from his face as they make out. The two of them were tuned out from the ongoing conversation with Gretchen, Tina, and I, and as often as I was peeking over to Melissa and Zack going at it like teenagers, Gretchen was looking at them just as frequently and I could tell a look of despair was emerging on her face.
We went back into the restaurant and eventually ate our meals. The others drank their cocktails before and after dinner while I was my usual tee-totaling self. Gretchen opened her gifts and was starting to get a little tipsy along with the others, and as Melissa and Zack resumed their shameless PDA inside the restaurant, that look of despair hidden within a perfect stepford-wife smile that I had seen outside returned on Gretchen’s face. I had a pretty good idea what it was about and was afraid the “birthday girl blues” could sabotage our plans for a nightcap when we got home.
Before we left, the Texas Roadhouse tradition of a public birthday pronouncement quickly followed as three waitresses approached Gretchen with the “saddle” to which she had to ride as recognition for her birthday. The mildly inebriated Gretchen, blushing at first, was compelled by her sisters to climb onto the saddle, and her inhibitions quickly faded when she did as she began to ride the saddle like a genuine cowgirl. Melissa opened Gretchen’s pack of Marlboro Reds and I knew right away a scene was about to be made. The waitresses’ smiles quickly turned to scowls as Melissa handed Gretchen a cigarette and quickly lit her up. “You ride ‘em , Marlboro cowgirl!” Melissa shouted as Gretchen took a deep drag with her head pointed straight to the sky. I knew this was gonna be trouble!
“Ma’am! You can’t smoke in here” the three waitresses predictably said almost in unison.
“Awww, c’mon, you can let a girl have a cigarette on her birthday, can’t you??!?” Gretchen responded, still working the saddle.
“We’re gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am!” the one waitress then ordered.
I was hoping Gretchen wouldn’t push the matter further and she didn’t, obediently getting up and giggling like she had just gotten away with something big as her sisters followed. I stuck around to pay the bill and apologized to the waitress for the incident. The waitress responded “It’s cool,” and then caught me off guard when she added “you have no idea how much I would like to follow in her shoes and light up in here right now” winking at me before turning around to attend to the dwindling number of additional customers. I went outside, and needless to say, the four of them were standing by the entrance with the three girls smoking again. At this point, I wanted to get Gretchen home for her “main event” birthday present and kind of nudged the rest of the group to disperse abruptly.
In another half hour, Gretchen and I were entering our front door. I was rarin’ for some lovin’ and couldn’t wait to take that sexy little white skirt off of her and have my way with what was inside it….but I just got the feeling the whole drive home she wasn’t really feeling it. Having been with her for almost 12 years, I know fake enthusiasm when I see it, and I was seeing it tonight. She went through the motions though, opening the box of expensive Davidoff cigars I bought her for her birthday and extracting one, sniffing it while I watched knowing how it was turning me on. She stuck it in her mouth as I prepared the torch lighter to fire her up but as I approached her with the flame, I could see a tear starting to roll down her face. I held back and realized my role was gonna be comforter instead of lover tonight.
“What’s the matter babe?” I asked, putting my arm around her and having a pretty good idea what she was gonna say.
After a couple of minutes of denying it was anything serious, I got her to spill that seeing Melissa and Zack go at it made her feel her age. And while she ordinarily felt pretty satisfied in her role as full-time mommy staying home with Kaitlyn, she sometimes really missed the career she gave up as a highly paid marketing executive for Philip Morris which she gave up when she got pregnant. She still did some consulting work for them, but her presence in the office declined by more than 90%. I listened to her grievances, which I knew were mainly fueled by the combination of her 30th birthday and a few adult beverages, helping to cheer her up as much as possible but knowing her sexy body was not gonna be on top of mine that night. Her most serious concerns involved a loss of excitement in our sex lives which she also blamed herself for. After about an hour listening to this and chain-smoking Marlboro Reds 100s throughout, Gretchen reached for the torch lighter to fire up the cigar, but I stopped her, saying “let’s wait till you’re in the mood for one of these rather than wasting one when you’re not. And I have a feeling you’re gonna be in the mood very soon”.
She nodded in agreement and buried her head in my chest where I laid with her until she fell asleep. It was a sad ending to the evening for me, but I just knew I would be making it up to her one way or another.
Two weeks later, with Gretchen’s birthday night meltdown being generally forgotten, I was on lunch break at work and heading outdoors for a quick walk as I do most days. The walk around a couple square blocks of state office buildings usually helps me clear my mind a little and get some fresh air, but today it was gonna take me on an interesting detour as I saw our office’s high school page Abigail decked out in her fairly conservative work uniform rapidly drifting off to an obscure bench hidden in a cluster of trees and generally out of view. I had an idea what she might be doing, but had to scheme a little to see for myself, altering my usual walking path and crossing the street towards where she settled.
I pressed forward with a boyish excitement and got more excited with each step as a tobacco aroma became noticeable. And even though I had to maneuver a little to see her without being obvious, I spotted her sitting on the bench quietly smoking an all-white cigarette, and doing so illegally since smoking had been banned on the property of state buildings for nearly four years. Even to this day, whenever I see a pretty girl smoking a cigarette, I have all I can do to restrain myself from doing cartwheels as a release for my excitement. But I maintained my composure while pretending to just notice Abigail, who still hadn’t seen me.
“Abigail?” I called, grabbing her attention as she very nervously looked at me, busted with cigarette in her hand.
“Hey,” she finally worked her way towards responding, still very nervous about being spotted smoking.
As much fun as it would have been to put her on the spot for smoking, I held back and simply walked towards her, saying “how have you been? I haven’t been seeing much of you lately?” an accurate statement as she hadn’t been making the detours to my cubicle when she came to our office as much lately, leading me to believe somebody called her out for being inappropriate.
Abigail and I began to have a friendly chat and she soon became comfortable smoking her cigarette in my presence. Having seen the photos on my computer, she already knew Gretchen was a smoker so I’m sure that helped her realize I wouldn’t bust her chops for it. While I had to be careful not to cross any lines, being away from the icy glares of coworkers in the office allowed me to flirt a little more with Abigail, who definitely took the bait as expected. We had a pretty good chemistry despite the 16-year age difference (she revealed she had just turned 18) and our conversation lasted the duration of her first cigarette and into her second, as she took me aback when she removed her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s from the pocket of her work uniform, extracted a second cigarette and used the smoldering cigarette to light up the second. Halfway through her second cigarette, I had to press forward, but walked away impressed with the encounter and with the early formation of a very evil plan.
In the coming days, I began to become obsessed with Abigail, getting her full name from the office directory and doing a Facebook search on my home computer. Her profile was public and featured a cluster of photos that suggested she was a fun girl, with some particularly sexy bikini shots of her at a friend’s pool. I was pretty sure I had found what I was looking for to help make up for the disappointment of Gretchen’s birthday evening. My original instinct was to surprise Gretchen by working behind her back to make arrangements, but figured I’d be better off seeing if she agreed to the terms and was as impressed with Abigail as I was before I pressed forward.
So one afternoon after work I lured Gretchen from her workout equipment and towards my computer. She had no idea what was coming but I could tell she noticed the sinful smirk on my face as I logged onto Facebook and showed her Abigail’s profile.
“Tell me what you think of this girl,” I said as I logged onto her photos and thumbed through some of the most suggestive shots.
A lustful smile emerged on Gretchen’s face as she watched the photos scan, her lips tightening their grip on the cigarette dangling from them as if projecting her growing sexual intensity on the cigarette. She eventually broke the silence by saying “I’d do her!”
The evil smirk on my face hit fever pitch as I turned to Gretchen and said “That’s the idea.”
The timing was perfect as the school year was about to end along with Abigail’s tenure as our office page. I was in the clear to pursue her without consequence and ultimately hit her up on Facebook with an indecent proposal. Gretchen and I figured it could go either way, but Abigail quickly engaged and the three of us were chatting on Facebook regularly for a few nights, eventually leading to a three-way phone chat. Within a week, plans were forming for the threesome that I knew would help Gretchen get over her jealousy of Melissa and Zack’s youthful courtship. And finally it was set….for this coming Saturday. Gretchen and I dabbled in threesomes while in college, but this was poised to be our first in many years.
As Saturday morning arrived, Gretchen and I were both surprised by how nervous we were to be hosting this teenage girl for a threesome, and we couldn’t even fathom how nervous she must be. We were half-expecting a tear-filled call from her backing out of the agreement either Friday night or Saturday morning, but instead we got a text that she would be right over as soon as she had a tanning session. As 3 p.m. arrived, the moment had arrived as we heard our doorbell rang. Gretchen and I opened the door together to find this smirking, tanned 18-year-old blond, the picture of teenage innocence, decked out in a skimpy hot pink bikini that accentuated her perfect feminine figure, and the partially exposed flip-top pack of Camel Pink No. 9s tucked into her crotch. The fun was about to begin!
“I think now would be a good time to break out one of your birthday cigars,” I said to Gretchen as Abigail walked in, dripping sexuality without even trying. Gretchen nodded and after exchanging nervous greetings with our youthful houseguest, Gretchen went for the cigar. Moments later, she returned with a giant Churchill-sized cigar in her mouth and a torch lighter which she handed to me. I lit her up, which took about 30 seconds. The entryway where we stood filled with smoke quickly as Gretchen dragged from the cigar as it was lit
Abigail watched in awe as the cigar came to life and after it was fully lit she finally said to Gretchen, “That looks really good!”
Gretchen looked the teen sexpot up and down and then responded in her husky long-time smoker’s voice “Why don’t you come on over here sweetie and I’ll let you have a taste.”
With just a hint of teenage nervousness in her eyes, Abigail approached Gretchen. Abigail wrapped her arms around Gretchen’s neck as Gretchen took a huge drag from the cigar and then pulled the teenager to her, their lips less than an inch apart as Gretchen exhaled directly into Abigail’s mouth. Gretchen didn’t know how the rookie smoker girl would handle the thick cigar smoke but the answer came seconds later as plumes of exhaled smoke flowed from Abigail’s nose. I was merely a spectator for the next few moments as the two of them exchanged smoky cigar kisses, locking lips and having amazing sexual chemistry for two people who had never met.
I was fully erect and wanting in on this action, and Gretchen finally noticed me and realized she had been so wrapped up in the sexy little high school girl that she had forgotten about me completely. I climbed out of my clothes and we decided to make good on our plans right away with my equipment good and ready. As we moved into the bedroom, Gretchen cooperated by removing her jean shorts and panties, followed by her blouse. Meanwhile, disrobing Abigail was my job as she climbed onto my chest. My arms were pinned under her, but I used my teeth to open the box of Camel Pinks tucked into her crotch, and then extracted a cigarette with my teeth. She saw what I was doing and leaned down, allowing me to pass the unlit cigarette from my mouth to hers.
Gretchen took the reins at this point, leaping onto my lower half in the bed and motioning for Abigail to approach her with the unlit cigarette in her mouth. I watched in awe as Gretchen leaned forward with the smoldering cigar in her mouth and pressed the cherry against Abigail’s unlit cigarette, quickly bringing it to life. Clouds of smoke quickly escaped both of their respiratory systems and I was so distracted by the sexy smoking show that I was taken aback when I felt Gretchen’s pussy engulf my own rock-hard unit.
As Gretchen began to ride me like that Texas Roadhouse saddle on her birthday, it was time for me to get a taste of Abigail. I once again used my teeth to grab hold of her bikini bottom, doing my best to pull it off of her, to which she soon cooperated with the same goal. In moments, I was looking straight at the first vagina I had seen that was not my wife’s since the day we got married…and it was incredible seeing that adorably moist 18-year-old snatch getting thirstier for masculine stimulation with each passing second. I didn’t have long to admire it before Abigail foisted it into my face, and I was soon using my tongue to bring about the desired result.
Gretchen was already making pleasured sex sounds and she continued grinding me, and even though my vision was now obstructed, I was soon hearing a second female voice joining in the pleasured moans as I continued working Abigail’s pussy like a $10 banjo. My previous experimentations with threesomes were a little disappointing because there was just too much going on, but I was really loving this moment and was only sorry that I was unable to see the looks on both girls’ faces as they were pleasured, each using their oral muscles to tightly clasp their tobacco items of choice that were dangling from their mouths. As intense as it was, I wanted the feeling to go on forever….
The afternoon spilled into the evening, and Abigail stuck around for all of it as the three of us followed through on every threesome variation we could think of to the point of not even knowing if we’d be able walk in the morning. The giant cigar was smoked, along with dozens of cigarettes, and the ashtrays and butt buckets in our home suddenly had some unusual additions in the form of all-white cigarettes with pink rings on them, coexisting with Gretchen’s cork filter Marlboro Reds 100s.
Finally, well after midnight, we decided to call it a night, and Abigail stayed with us, lying on my right shoulder and Gretchen slept on my left. As great as it is to have one ashtray-mouthed girl’s breath in my airspace all night long, it was even better with a second. Come morning, we bid Abigail adieu and we all agreed to do this again before summer ended and she left for college. All that was left to do before enjoying a quiet Sunday was to pick up Kaitlyn who spent the night at my mother’s.
A couple of hours later, the three of us sat at the kitchen table as a family, finishing a quick lunch Gretchen prepared for us. Gretchen and I halfheartedly listened to Kaitlyn tell us about her night at grandma’s while the two of us exchanged looks every bit as frisky as what Melissa and Zack were shooting each other’s way at Texas Roadhouse a couple of weeks ago. The magic was back. Gretchen was taking a drag from her Marlboro Red 100 and was already extracting the next one from the pack. She used the butt of the first cigarette to light the second, and just as she was about to crush out the first cigarette, the phone rang.
Gretchen walked to the kitchen to pick up the phone, and I watched young Kaitlyn’s eyes lock on that mostly smoked cigarette in mommy’s ashtray. First, she looked at me and could tell she wasn’t gonna get any resistance here. She slid over and picked up the cigarette. I put my finger over my mouth to make a “shhhh!” motion and Kaitlyn smiled and made the same motion just before picking up Gretchen’s cigarette and taking her first puff. While I could tell it wasn’t what she expected, I could still see the excitement in her eyes as she blew out that small puff of smoke. I was long ago able to tell she was her father’s daughter, but at that moment it was abundantly clear she was definitely mommy’s little girl too. At some point I was gonna point that out to Gretchen….but it wasn’t gonna be today.