Black Manga

The teen sat down on the couch, unearthed a cedar box from under a stack of comic books on the coffee table, lifted the lid, and pulled out an all-white VS120 cigarette. She put it between her lips and flicked the lighter, bringing forth the flame; but she did not light the tip. Instead, shepretended to smoke, holding the long cigarette between her fingers and occasionally bringing it up to her lips while she flipped through the pages of her favorite manga comics. It was an unusual activity for a 17 year old to engage in, but it was a reflection of the conflict Sara had within her about smoking.

She was not ignorant to the health consequences of smoking, but she honestly didn't care. She could not remember a time in her life when she didn't want to smoke. Over the years, she had taken plenty of puffs on lit cigarettes sitting in an ashtray that her mother or step-father might leave momentarily unattended. She knew and liked how it felt as she had long ago mastered the art of inhaling without coughing. But she didn't consider herself a smoker yet. She was quite proud of the fact that she had never actually lit a cigarette before. That was a line that once crossed, she understood, would quickly be erased. One lit cigarette would lead to another. That's when she knew she would be a smoker.

And yet she always expected that she would pick up the habit when she was an adult; she was even looking forward to it. But what defined "adult?" Was it 16 when her mother started smoking and quickly became addicted? Or was it 18, the legal smoking age at the time when her mother attended college as an art major in Las Vegas (where, her mother once told her, she could smoke as much as she wanted, whenever she wanted rather than waiting until she turned 20, the legal smoking age in Japan). Sara knew that now you have to be 21 to smoke anywhere in the US, but waiting to hit that age seemed like an eternity. In a week she would be 18. She could decide then whether or not she would become a smoker. For now...she brought the unlit cigarette to her lips and gently sucked on the filter...she wouldpretend to smoke.

Sara threw aside the magazine she was reading and dove into the stack on the table, hoping to find something new. She found it a third of the way into the pile, and it wasn't what she expected. "Forbidden Love," the title said in kanji. On the cover were two teens, a boy and a girl, engaged in a passionate kiss with cigarette smoke pouring out of the sides of their mouths. Sara immediately recognized that this was not manga; it washentai. And the artwork was unmistakably in her mother's hand. Sara's nipples hardened as she ran her fingers over the two faces of the lovers on the cover. She opened the comics and felt her heart beat faster.

Sara had never lost her ability to read kanji, one of the advantages of immigrating to the States while fully fluent in her native tongue. She could immediately tell that this was an incest story, one of the most popular themes in Japanese hentai. But it was unusual in that it also embraced the smoking fetish asevery character onevery page was illustrated with a cigarette either between their fingers or their lips. She put the long white cylinder she held in her fingers between her own lips and began to suck hard. She turned the page and her heart began racing as she viewed a two page spread of the brother inserting his penis into his sister's pussy.

Sara felt as if someone had just turned on a switch controlling an unused part of her brain that now took control. As if she had done it a thousand times, she reached for the lighter, brought forth the flame, and lit the tip of the cigarette freehanded. She puffed hard and inhaled, holding back the gag reflex and letting the nicotine soak into her lungs. The feeling was incredible. She continued to puff and inhale freehanded as she turned the pages. The images were graphic and intense. She hungered for more.

She brought the ashtray from the coffee table and set it beside her on the couch. She tapped the 120 over it and brought it back to her lips, double pumping now as she felt her pussy growing moist from the visual stimulation of the hentai and the chemical stimulation of the nicotine. She needed physical stimulation. She tapped the cigarette again, removing the excess ash, and inserted it back into her mouth and held it in place with her lips wrapped around the filter. She slid her right hand into her pants and began to slowly massage her crotch. But that wasn't enough. She needed more. Something that would match the intensity of the images being burned into her brain. She used her index and middle fingers to gently stroke her clit. Spasms of pleasure began emanating through her body with each light touch she made. She put the magazine in her lap and turned the page, puffing hard on the 120 as she did so. The brother was ejaculating all over his sister. She responded by plunging her two fingers deep into her pussy, stroking the vaginal walls vigorously as she did so. She inhaled what must have been a five second puff and was embraced by a euphoria that seemed to be lifting her off the couch. She required only one image in her mind, needed only to say one name to make the dam break.

"Kevin," she gasped breathlessly as she imagined him pumping her own pussy with a cigarette between his lips, followed by, "Oh, God!" as wave after pleasurable wave moved through her quivering body. The magazine slid off her lap and onto the floor as she continued to forcefully move her two fingers in and out of her vagina, stroking the clit with her full fingers in the process. "Yes," she shouted with her eyes closed as another wave washed over her. She held the cigarette tightly between her teeth. She couldn't bear to take another puff with her aching lungs already aflame. She gingerly removed the cigarette with her free hand, being careful not to drop any ash, and plopped it into the ashtray.

She sat back deep into the cushion of the couch, breathing heavily and watching a ribbon of smoke float upwards from the ashtray as the wall fan continued to hum. Her body quivered once again as she pulled the two fingers out of her vaginal canal. They were dripping with her pussy goo. She needed a tissue but could barely move to reach the coffee table where a tissue box lay. She was exhausted.

She was also amazed that smoking and masturbating could release so much energy. It never occurred to her to combine the two. Her attraction to smoking had never been particularly erotic; not, at least, until she opened that magazine. Now, it was difficult for her to imagine ever separating the two.

She looked at her watch. Kevin would be in bed at least for another hour. With her clean hand she reached for a cigarette, lit it freehanded, and inhaled greedily. She then grabbed the magazine off of the floor, reinserted her fingers between her legs with a gratifying whimper, and picked up reading where she left off.

CHAPTER 5 - Revelations

Friday night - a month later

Sara and Stacy Choi sat in the front seat of a Lexus under a street lamp in a nearly empty parking lot. Still dressed in the blue and white colors of their cheerleading outfits, the two Asian American teens had just said their goodnights to school friends after celebrating their high school basketball team's win with a post-game snack at Chick-fil-A.

"Did you bring them?" Stacy asked, barely concealing her excitement.

"Of course I brought them," Sara replied with a wicked grin as she pulled a pack of Virginia Slims 120's out of the glove compartment.

At 18 years of age, Sara and Stacy were in the prime of their youth. Both were just a couple of inches over five feet with a slender build that looked beautiful in either a winter formal dress or cut-off shorts. Puberty had been kind to these girls with scarcely a blemish on the light toned skin of their East Asian ancestry. The only difference was in their eyes and hair. Sara's Japanese almond eyes were well framed with layered bangs she had dyed light brown which curved around the edges of her face. Stacy's eyes, however, were small and narrow, giving her, combined with her long, silky jet black hair, a sensuous, almost carnal visage. In their blue plaid color skirt and navy blue sweater of a private school cheer uniform, both looked like a couple of school girls from any Japanese anime.

Stacy hungrily eyed the beautiful green and white pack Sara held in her hand. It was only a few days ago that she had mentioned to her best friend that she thought that her Mom's long cigarettes looked sexy. To her surprise, Sara agreed and proposed that they both try smoking after Friday night's game. All week, Stacy waited in anticipation for this moment.

Sara retrieved a cigarette for herself before handing the pack to Stacy, who then held it in her hand as if it were a priceless relic. She smelled the contents, was pleased by the menthol aroma, and gently plucked out a 120. Immediately she was attracted to the length. "I already love it," she said with giddiness.

"And you haven't even puffed on it yet," Sara said with the cigarette dangling between her lips. She lit her own 120 freehanded, turning the tip a bright orange, and then offered the flame to Stacy who held her fingers at the base. Stacy immediately exhaled the smoke of that first puff, but noticed that Sara was already inhaling her second puff as smoke filled the cab of the car.

"This isn't your first time," Stacy said with a raised eyebrow.

"I live in a house where both of my parents smoke," Sara replied after blowing a smoke ring. "This ain't my first rodeo."

"Mine either," Stacy said with a smile as she brought the cigarette up to her mouth, took a four second puff, and snapped back a huge white ball deep into her lungs without the slightest cough.

"What the fuck?" Sara said in amazement as Stacy turned her head and exhaled the most exquisite cone in the direction of the street lamp above them. "You're a smoker?"

"Guilty," Stacy said as she crunched up her face with the squint of her eyes. She then raised the cigarette up to closely examine it. "But I've never smoked these. I was hoping that you might be a closet smoker." She took another puff and expertly French inhaled the smoke.

"How long have you been smoking?" Sara asked, a bit hurt that her best friend since grade school had never told her. "And how have you even been able to get any cigarettes?"

Stacy stared at Sara with a mischievous look. "From my Mom."

Sara shook her head in disbelief. "No, this a bizarro world. Your mother smokes, too? Does your Dad the preacher also smoke?"

"Oh, no," Stacy said, her countenance suddenly serious, "of course not. But my Mom has been able to hide it for years with all the incense she burns on the shrine to her parents in her sewing room. My Dad can't stand the smell, so he never goes in there. 'Won't even stay in that part of the house. I discovered her, oh, I guess it was right after Thanksgiving. My Dad was away for a few days at some religious retreat, and I came home early from school for some reason; and there was my Mom, sitting in her sewing room puffing on a Misty cigarette." Stacy took another drag, puffed her cheeks out, and then snapped the smoke into her chest. "She was so embarrassed when she saw me; but when I told her I wanted to try it, I had never seen her so happy in my life. It's like she discovered she had an accomplice in the household now."

"And so she lets you smoke?" Sara asked, jealous that Stacy didn't have to hide in the closet at home.

Stacy exhaled a smoky stream. "Only when I'm with her, and only when my Dad is not around. I don't have more than two cigarettes per day when I get home from school; a few more on the weekends maybe."

"So I guess it is true what everyone says about a preacher's daughter," Sara offered with a chuckle.

"You have no idea," Stacy whispered in a sassy tone as she brought the cigarette up to the center of her mouth for a gentle puff. She watched the tip glow and was mesmerized by the sight in the darkened cab. She inhaled, held it for several seconds as she felt her lungs absorb the nicotine, and then exhaled a stream towards the dashboard that once again glistened under the reflection of the street lamp and bounced off the glass. "I do like these 120's," she said as she grabbed the rear view mirror and turned it towards her. "Mom is totally wedded to her Mistys. But I could definitely become good friends with Miss Virginia Slims."

"I envy you," Sara said a wry smile.

"Still in the closet, huh?" Sara replied sympathetically. "So how'd you get this pack if your Mom doesn't know you smoke?"

"Don't worry about that," Sara answered reassuringly as she reached out of the driver's side window and flicked some ash off of her 120. "I promise you she won't even notice the smell in the car," which, after all, already had the odor of a heavy smoker's use of it.

"Well, then," Stacy said, "I guess I can look forward to this three nights a week after cheer practice?"

Sara nodded her head as she slowly puffed on the 120. "We could do that," she replied in a smoky exhale. "Just you, me and Virginia."

The two were silent for about a minute as they watched one another take turns making the tips of their 120's glow, inhaling the creamy smoke, and exhaling either through pursed lips or a cascade down through the nostrils. Sara had to admit to herself that she was feeling very horny. If her best friend sitting across from her were male, she'd have a hard time not jumping his bones. Then Sara asked herself why the gender should even matter? Before her thoughts could answer the question, Stacy spoke up.

"You know I was paired up with Kevin again today in 1st period. Mr. Schultz must think we make a cute couple cuz he's always putting us together." She flicked some ash out the window. "Your brother is so hot," she said in a hungry voice. "You think he'd say yes if I asked him to the Prom?"

"Girl," Sara reprimanded, "you think your traditional Korean parents are ever gonna let you date a white boy?"

Stacy sighed. "Well, I can dream, can't I? But I do feel sorry for you that he's your brother."

"Why?" Sara asked perplexed.

"Because you can't fuck him!" Stacy brought the 120 up to her lips for a puff but then paused. "Although, I suppose youcould fuck him since technically he's your step-brother."

"Ewwwe," Sara said with a feigned frown. "Girl, don't even go there."

"Is it still incest if he's your adopted brother?"

"Stop," Sara pleaded.

"Of course, it would make it easier to fuck since you both live in the same house."

"Bitch, I'm gonna slap you if you don't shut the fuck up," Sara said with a laugh.

"I'm just saying," Stacy said with the raise of her hand. She took one last puff and attempted another French inhale that went awry, then she tossed the butt out the window. "It must be tough living with such a handsome guy who is just down the hall from your bedroom."

Sara threw her cigarette out the window, too. "Time to get you home," she said as she turned on the motor of the Lexus. She made no reply to Stacy's comment about her step-brother Kevin, because the truth was...she did find it difficult living in the same house with someone she was so attracted to.

CHAPTER 6 -- Gaijin Pig

The Next Morning

When Kevin opened his eyes, the first thing he did was reach for his dick. It was dry. There had been no nocturnal emission in the night. This surprised him considering how vivid his dream was. His writing instincts told him to get it down on paper before the images faded from his memory, but was he willing to do so? Did he want to record such a disturbing vision as he had dreamt the night before?

He sat up and immediately began shivering from the frigid spring morning. He reached for his robe at the end of the bed and put it on as he walked towards the window. He loved this view of the family estate. It got his creative juices flowing. Where a real estate developer saw subdivisions to be built, Kevin saw stretched out before him an ancestral legacy from his mother's side. His father didn't understand the importance of the land. If he did, perhaps he wouldn't leave it so often for his business trips. Steven had grown up in an Atlanta suburb. He only kept the estate because his wife had bequeathed it to Kevin upon her death. When Kevin was younger, they would sit out on the patio and she would tell him the history of the land as she chained-smoking one precious Salem after another.

His ancestors had settled this land nearly two centuries before, displacing the Cherokee tribes that once roamed the woods surrounding the mansion. To the north were the remnants of what were once vast cotton fields, maintained through an oppressive labor system before Sherman's forces marched over them and burned every last stalk. Until then, slaves had picked the cotton, tended the gardens, and built the house he now slept so comfortably in. He honored their legacy, as well as the indigenous population before them. But that was the old South. Kevin was a part of a new South. His father's marriage to Akemi proved that southerners can change; they can grow; they can become more tolerant and...what's that?

Kevin's eyes caught some movement just below his window. It was Sara walking down the path to her Mother's work cabin. Kevin's heart began pounding. The images from his dream were already beginning to dissipate. He took a seat at the desk and reached again for a pen and the yellow legal pad.

Dear Diary,

Another dream with Stacy last night, but this one was...different.

He paused. Was he ready to actually write this down? God, he wished he could have a cigarette.

I was standing in the kitchen with Akemi...

He scratched out the name Akemi.

...with Mom who was facing me while leaning against the counter smoking one of her long cigarettes. I thought she looked so beautiful. "Have you smoked before?" she asked with one of her radiant smiles.

"Yes," I said in an echoing voice, "and I love it."

Mom's face broke into this silent laugh as she tilted her head back and brought the cigarette up to her lips. It was so...erotic. I felt myself getting really excited.

Then Stacy came into the kitchen, also holding a 120 cigarette between her fingers, and she walked up beside me. Thin sheets of smoke were slipping out between her lips and floating up over her cheeks and thin eyes. I just had to have her smoke inside of me. I aggressively placed my lips over hers and began to swirl my tongue inside her mouth while at the same time fondling her breasts. It was exhilarating in a lascivious way. I just wanted to fuck her right there in front of Mom. But when I pulled back to look at her face, I discovered it was not Stacy that I was kissing and fondling, but rather...Sara.

Kevin put the pen down. He ran his fingers through his hair. What he wanted to write next was difficult to put into words.

What I suddenly felt when I saw her was not the kind of hungry lust I had just been feeling for Stacy. It was like this all-encompassing jubilation. She was so incredibly gorgeous with her light brown bangs framing her face looking up at me. She brought a freshly lit 120 to the side of her mouth and slowly began to puff on it as her soft eyes stared into mine.

Kevin placed the pen in his mouth and put his right hand into his shorts to rearrange the bulging dick pressing up against the seam. He then took the pen back in his fingers.

"What are you waiting for?" Mom asked me as she held her own 120 just beyond her mouth.

I took Sara in my arms and gently placed my lips to hers. I could feel the smoke entering my lungs -- it was incredible and somehow transformative. I could feel it changing me. I don't know into what. All I can say is that I wanted to be as physically close to Sara as was humanly possible. I wanted to be inside of her; joined with her. As I held her as tight as I could, I felt my body explode in a rapturous, pulsating sensation. It wasn't like a wet dream orgasm. It was so, so much deeper than that; like my whole body was experiencing this sense of bliss.