A Smokey Night with Mrs. J.bysaturswing©
So not only was I feeling the rush of doing something as "adult" as smoking with an older woman but I was doing so with a woman I had fantasized about for many years. As she brought the flame to my cigarette I repeated her actions from earlier and softly guided her hand to accept the flame.
After taking a hard drag, fighting the brief urge to cough, and feeling the rush of nicotine fill my body and altered state of mind, I exhaled with an audible 'ahhh.' "Feels good, doesn't it?" she said as she took the still burning match and lit her own. She too took a long drag and made a little 'ahhh' with her exhale as well which caused us both to laugh.
"It's good to feel good, isn't it?" she asked.
She didn't know the half of it.
"Yes it is. I try to keep 'feeling good' on my To-Do list," I said prior to replying with my own over-the-top pleasurable exhale.
She encouraged me by smiling and offering a "That's the way to do it," before giving my leg a little pat and repositioning herself on the couch to turn directly towards me, foregoing any pretense about watching the movie.
"You know, there was another reason I started to smoke," she said almost conspiratorially. "I was about your age and my first real boyfriend used to tell me he thought girls looked really sexy when they smoked."
"Oh, yeah?" I responded as casually as possible in an attempt to hide my excitement.
"And you may not know this but 18-year-old girls really want the boy they like to think they're sexy," she said, reminiscing with a smile.
"So he helped get you started smoking," I asked, hoping she would continue down this train of thought.
"Yeah, " she said, taking an deep, cheek-hollowing drag before pulling the smoke in to her lungs with a jolt and quickly blowing a long steady stream in to the air. "I'll blame him," she said giggling. "We used to like to go up Flat Top...you've probably been up there once or twice, right?" she said teasingly.
I didn't want to tell her that I'd been up there about earlier that night getting incredibly stoned with her son so I just off-handedly tossed off, "Maybe once or twice." She giggled a bit. "Well, then you know what happens up there," she said as if we now shared a secret.
"So he got you smoking up at Flat Top," I asked, trying to gear her back towards the subject I needed to hear most about. "Is that what you'd do up there?"
She laughed, "Among other things but yeah, that's where he got me smoking." She paused to take another drag on her now half-smoked Marlboro. I did as well, mimicking the length of her inhale so when we each exhaled towards the same side, our smoke met and mingled in the air creating a sort of smoky communion.
I think she noticed it too.
"I remember we were talking about how my friend Paula had started smoking. He asked if I'd ever wanted to smoke. I had an Aunt that smoked and I'd always kind of liked being around it. I remember sneaking a cigarette from her when I was about 14. I snuck in to the bathroom when she wasn't around and watched myself in the mirror."
"I did the same thing when I smoked for the first time," I blurted out too quickly. She paused. "I mean," I explained with a little less energy. "I kind of watched myself too. Just to see what it looks like, you know?"
"Did you cough you lungs up too?" she asked and we both laughed at the shared memory of our first cigarettes.
She continued with her story. "So when my boyfriend asked if I'd ever smoked I told him that story. I remember how embarrassed he was when he told me he thought girls who smoked were sexy. When I told him I'd like to try and smoke for him he got all excited. But we didn't have any cigarettes!"
"Ha!" I laughed.
"But the next time we went up to Flat Top he came prepared," she said, taking one last hard drag and efficiently crushing out the cigarette in the ashtray.
"All I really remember about the smoking part was that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, she said. "But I definitely remembered what it did to him," she added, alluding to the fact that it obviously turned her boyfriend on. Then she switched gears. "Hey, I hope you don't mind me telling you this. I haven't thought about this for years. Maybe's it's the beers," she said almost apologetically.
"Are you kidding," I said. "I love hearing stuff like this. So...you started smoking more after that first night."
"I did,' she replied reaching for yet another Marlboro 100. "See what happens when I talk about smoking? I already want another one," at which time she brought the cigarette to her mouth for her practiced light up and drag.
With the smoke still in her lungs she said, "So...", before exhaling a large thick plume of smoke up in the air and over my head and continuing with, "I guess with his liking to watch me and how it made me look and feel, I got in to it really quick."
We both were quiet for a second. She took another drag and then said, "You can have another if you want."
I did want another. I wanted to smoke with her. I also wanted to tell her how hot she was, how I'd jacked off to her and how I'd be jacking off to her later tonight.
Instead I said, "You're going to get me hooked," and reached over to the cigarettes on the coffee table. As I leaned over the table, cigarette in hand, I didn't see the matches. She noticed she had them sitting in her lap but instead of handing them to me she lit one, and held it up.
"Here you go," in a voice that was both throaty and friendly. Our faces were very close.
"Thanks," I said leaning in to accept her flame.
She put the match out with a flick of the wrist, tossed it in to the ashtray, took a long pull from her cold beer and then an equally long drag off her cigarette. The commitment she gave to each drag pulled me in like a moth to a flame. I had to turn avert my gaze which was threatening to become a stare.
"I guess everyone has a reason for starting to smoke, huh" she asked. "Some people want to look more grown up. Maybe some people have always been around it and it's no big deal. For me it was because I had a boyfriend who liked to watch me." She paused for a second and then in a quieter, almost coy tone said, "And I guess I liked to be watched."
It was as if was talking to a girl my own age. There was still maturity in her ways but her tone was that of a younger woman. She was admitting a secret to a friend.
"And you know what?" she said.
"What?" I mumbled.
"Are we talking as friends? Just between us?"
"Absolutely," I replied, excited at the idea that she considered us "friends."
"You like watching me smoke too, don't you?"
She said it very matter of factly. It was more a statement than a question. Her eyes were locked in to mine and it was like she was seeing right through me. I didn't know what to say.
And then, with a soothing voice that was one part motherly and one part temptress, she reached over and rested her hand atop mind.
"It's ok. I understand."
Still looking in to my eyes she brought the cigarette to her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks on the long, slow draw, gave a subtle yet perfect snap and with the smoke still in her lungs said, "It's not like I haven't noticed you watching me, you know?"
When the last word came out of her mouth she slowly, languidly exhaled just to the side of my face, her lips pursed and her aim purposeful.
"And to tell you the truth, and remember this is between us, OK? I think I like it."
Her body was faced toward me. I had my feet on the ground, my shirt pulled as low as possible over my very hard cock that was pushing so hard against my jeans it was becoming painful. I didn't move.
"Yeah?" I asked softly.
"Yeah," she said. "So do you? Do you like to watch me smoke?" And with that she took a very hard drag, sucked it deep within her lungs and without moving her hand away from her mouth, hit the cigarette just as hard. She held it in for just a moment and then slowly, ever so slowly, again slowly exhaled past my face, but closer this time. So close.
"Yes," I breathlessly admitted. "I like to watch you smoke."
Saying out loud to someone for the first time that I found smoking attractive was one thing. But saying it to the woman who had fueled my smoking fantasy in the first place was pushing the limits to what a 19-year-old could handle.
She looked at me for a moment and then with equal parts curiosity and playfulness said, "I wonder if you'd like what my boyfriend used to like?" She gestured me towards her with the hand the held the cigarette between her small fingers. "C'mere," she said.
As I dutifully, and nervously, leaned in towards her, she took another cheek-hollowing, power drag only this time she executed a stunningly slow open mouth inhale; the smoke floating slowly past her opened lips before she jerked it quickly in to her lungs. She then whispered, "Close your eyes." I did as I was told.
After a moment I felt what could only be described as the most intoxicating smell I'd ever encountered. I felt the coolness of her breath and tasted the sweetness of her smoke as she gently bathed my face with her exhale. I'd never smelled anything like it. It reeked of sex.
"Oh wow," I said. More words than that wasn't an option.
"Ahhh...so you like that too, huh?" A smile crept across her face at her discovery.
"Yeah....that was wild."
"It was, wasn't it?" she said, letting me know this pleasure wasn't a one sided affair. She looked at me for a couple of seconds as if she were making a decision. "Would you like to see something," she asked more rhetorically than anything. She must have known that the word 'no' wasn't in my vocabulary at that moment.
"Don't move. I'll be right back." And just that quickly she got off the couch and headed towards the kitchen.
I don't think I'd ever been as turned on, nervous, scared or excited before in my life. As soon as she left the room and I heard her heading upstairs I stood, unzipped my jeans and allowed my cock to escape from its confines. I happen to have a rather large penis and the relief I felt as I pulled it free and it slapped flat against my body was heaven. I wanted nothing more than to stroke it right there but quickly zipped up and again pulled my shirt low before sitting down. And as I sat there for what seemed like an eternity I kept pressing my hand against my rigid dick, running it from my balls to the tip. My heart was pounding with the uncertainty of what was next.
I heard her coming down the stairs and stop in the kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator door opening was followed by the clank of bottles and then two tops being removed. She entered back in to the living room carrying the two bottles and an envelope.
"Tell me you're ready for another one," she asked without giving me a chance to reply as she moved to set the bottle on the table in front of me. She moved around the coffee table and then to the couch. This time, when she sat, she patted the cushion next to me as a sign to come sit with her. It was like we were getting ready to look at pictures from her family vacation. I was a little confused but dutifully went and took a seat beside her.
"OK," she started. "I'm going to show you something no one...and I mean no one has ever seen before. So you have to promise me that you'll never, ever, ever share this with anyone else. Got it?"
"I promise," I said, a little scared about the responsibility she was giving me.
"Now I mean it," she continued. "If I ever hear about this getting out I'll tell everyone you tried to get physical with me and this is just your way of getting back."
"I would NEVER...."
"Ssssh...ssssh...It's OK sweetie," she said soothingly. "I know you would never say anything. I just want you to know how serious I am about this. Like I said, I've never shown these to anyone before and I really need to know it's going to stay between us. It's just something I think you'd enjoy and I want to make you happy. OK?"
"Of course," I said with real sincerity."You have my word. I will never ever say anything. No matter what it is. I promise." And I meant it too.
"OK," she said as she began opening the envelope. "My boyfriend didn't only like to watch me smoke. He liked to take pictures too. Would you like to see some of the pictures?
Does a fish like water?
"Really? Oh wow," I quickly replied, maybe a bit too anxiously. "I'd love to see some pictures of you when you were 18." Realizing that she may have taken that as my lack of interest in an older woman, I quickly added, "Not that you don't look great now. You do. I mean...well, you know..."
She sensed my embarrassment and gently put her hand on my arm. "I know what you meant. And thank you. That means a lot." I think she meant it. "So," she continued. "Do you want to see them?"
She took out a stack of maybe ten, 4x6 photos. They were in black and white, a color palette I'd always enjoyed when it came to photographs. She went to hand them to me and then pulled them back," But there's one rule. You can't look at a new picture until I say it's ok, deal?"
"Deal," I said and she handed me the envelope.
"Well, you know I'm going to need a cigarette for this one," and with that she tapped out another Marlboro 100. She put it in her lips and brought the match to the tip. I had lost all care about watching her and did so like a hawk. And with her knowledge of my interest, and her enjoyment because of it, she made a great spectacle of blowing out the match with her smoky exhale. Just like in Casablanca.
"Ok. Go ahead and open the envelope and look at the first picture."
I held myself back from opening the envelope like a 6-year-old opening a package at Christmas. The first picture was of Mrs. J. Only it was an 18 year old Mrs. J. And she was cute! She was dressed in a button up sweater and had a youthful exuberance punctuated by a big smile. The photo was taken from the driver's side of a car. There was still daylight out and I could tell that it was taken at Flat Top.
"Wow. Look at you!" I said. "You were fine." I could have gone with "Foxy," which was interchangeable back in those days, but 'fine' seemed a little more grown up.
"Yeah..." she laughed. "I was fine. Ok...now look at the next picture."
The next shot changed the energy in the room immediately...at least for me. It was a picture of Mrs. J. holding an unlit cigarette in her hand. She had it poised against her mouth as if she were waiting for a light. A look of seduction was in her eye. As I turned my head towards her I saw that same look. She brought the cigarette to her lips, snap inhaled so I could see it and then before she exhaled, "Look at the next one now."
I did as I was told. In this one, Mrs. J's cigarette was lit and she was just pulling it away from her lips. I could see the tiniest bit of smoke in her mouth and it was obvious to me that she was in the early stages of perfecting her snap inhales. At her boyfriend's request no doubt.
"Wow. This looks great," I said, turning my gaze from the picture to her and then back again.
"Thank you. Now look at the next one." We went like this through four or five more pictures, each taken at varied times of her smoking. Mrs. J. dragging, Mrs. J. inhaling and then Mrs. J blowing the smoke directly in the camera. In that one her lips were pursed like she was whistling and a thin stream was just inches away from the camera when the photo was taken.
"I bet he liked this one the best," I said knowingly. "I know I would."
"Really? Is that the one you'd like best? You bad boy," she said playfully before she took another hard drag and, sitting just a foot apart from me, emptied her smoke all over my face. The smell drove me to new depths of desire and I felt my cock twitch against my belly. She kept my gaze and said, "Now look at the next one."
I tore away from her gaze and couldn't believe what I saw in the next picture. It was a hand, obviously Mrs. J's, holding a cigarette while resting her hand on a very large bulge tenting a pair of khaki's.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
"Do you like it?"
"Look at the next one."
There was the same hand and the same cigarette but in this one the guy's big cock had been freed from his pants and was standing straight in the air. The little hand holding the cigarette was wrapped around the thick shaft. This was before the internet so my experience looking at dicks was limited at best. It looked long and fat and hard in her little hand.
I looked at Mrs. J. and she had a look of both apprehension and excitement. It matched mine I'm sure.
"This is one of the hottest things I've ever seen," I told her. "Wow."
I couldn't take my eyes off it. I stared. Neither of us said a word. She was probably thinking about her ex-boyfriends big cock and how she had once been 18 and a little wild. I was thinking that I was sitting next to a woman on a couch while she was showing me photos of her jacking a cock off. We were both lost in worlds of our own but at the same time sharing the same experience.
Her voice got quieter...more breathy. "Now look at the next one."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was Mrs. J...that huge rod stuffed in her mouth as smoke billowed from her lips. She was giving him a smoking blowjob. Her eyes were closed with her mouth taking maybe half of his cock in to her mouth. Just as I was taking all this in I felt a powerful blast of Mrs. J's exhaled smoke hit my nose. It was like a jolt of electricity. "Do you like that one best," she asked.
"Yes," was all I could muster.
"Look at the next one. I think you'll like this one too."
She had moved her lips off his cock in this one and instead, rested against the fat mushroom head. Her mouth was filled with smoke which was lit perfectly by the fading sun in the background. Again, as I lost myself in the image I smelled the sweet exhaled smoke coming from Mrs. J's mouth that she had directed towards me.
"Ok...last one. Are you ready?" I nodded. "Go ahead."
I moved the final picture to the top of the stack and there it was. Cum. It was cum. And lots of it. All over Mrs. J's face. She had her mouth open and filled with smoke. Hot spunk was dripping from her cheeks, there were drops in her hair and her lips framing the smoke were wet and glistening. A beautiful, sweet 18-year-old girl covered in thick cum.
"That's hot, isn't it" she said, her face nearly touching mine. "Do you like that?"
"Does it turn you on?"
"Do I turn you on?"
I turned my head to face her. "More than you know."
"Is your cock hard," she whispered. I didn't know what to say.
"Is it?" she asked. "Is your cock hard for me?" And with that she smoked my face again, forcibly exhaling a thick cloud that enveloped me. "Tell me. Is your cock hard for me?"
"Yes. Yes. My cock is hard for you. So hard. I'm so fucking hard."
"Tell me again. Is your cock hard for me? Tell me your cock is hard for me," she said almost pleading.
"Yes. Oh god yes. My cock is so hard for you. All for you."
"Do you want to touch your cock," she implored. "Do you want to show me your hard cock and touch it for me? Do you want me to smoke for you while you stroke your big dick?"
"Yesss," I hissed, more turned on and harder than I ever felt possible.
"Do it. Show it to me. I want to see it. Please. I want to see your cock."
I began fumbling at my jeans...my hands shaking as I looked in to her eyes searching for a sign if this was really what she wanted. They were glued to my crotch and I was as hard as I've ever been. As I pulled my shirt up the head of my cock peeked over the tops of my jeans.
"Ohhhh...." she whispered. "You're very big."
This vote of confidence did wonders for my young libido. I stood up from the couch, slowly unzipped my jeans and pulled them down past my hips. Fruit-of-the-Looms were the underwear of choice in those days and they were under the fire-eyed scrutiny of Mrs. J as she scanned up and down the length of my dick.