Layla Jones’s Smoking Story

Layla Jones's Smoking Story -The Serial Escapee.

This was written after talking to hot_procedure_2121.

I will say that this story is dark in places, with mentions of serial drug use. But we need to see it as her true back story, using her words. I did not think it right to hide it. This story covers the history of her relationship with smoking, and how she has now embraced the smoking fetish.

Layla is a bubbly, excitable 36-year-old. With naturally wavy golden hair, depending on the light, creates a hint of blonde intermixed with brown. She is a young at heart mom of one. Her life, focus and world truly now evolve around her small child. She moved state five years ago to escape her boring repetitive days, and weeks at work.

That was her old life. Back then she was still living at home with her parents. Balancing being extremely busy working 9-5, or often even longer, but with that constant feeling of being trapped both at home and being stuck at work in a very boring rut. She just wanted to spread her wings and live with excitement and freedom.

Well, that is what everyone in her family thinks happened. Layla has a much darker backstory. She needed to escape her old life for other bigger personal reasons.

Whilst busy managing her stressful corporate job she had a larger secret. She was paying her way in the world and consuming her cigarettes. But there was one minor problem. She was addicted to both nicotine and cocaine. She had a full blown $100 a day coke habit. She was repetitively bumping white power up her nose. Trying to make what she felt was awful life, feel better. When she was high, she would hide in her car, singing and listening to Never be like you by Flume, on repeat, on full blast, whilst she would chain smoke through two packs of cigarettes a day. It was her coping mechanism. Tears would pour, she wished life was different. Hoping that the coke would make within herself feel amazing. That her problems would no longer exist.

Life was not good. Along with her own demons of her addictions, her mom was working all hours she could in running her own business, her dad was unwell popping so many tablets that they joked that he rattled. This gave her issues at home. She was expected to look after her dad. At such an early age she could not cope, she wanted looking after herself. There was no one around. She just needed to escape.

Layla could not hide the smoking, it was obvious. Every time she stepped out of any building she would soon light up, feeding nicotine into her bloodstream. But she focused on keeping the coke addiction a secret, she did not share it with anyone. It was her own little clandestine problem.

It was then as she turned thirty, at the bottom of the biggest rut that she met her man in a local bar. He was working on a nearby pipeline. He actually now lived across the country. For Layla, high as kite and drunk, he was everything she needed. Her heart was all of a flutter. The ability to escape from the inner demons and external problems. She was doing her best to act normal, as she knew she was a functioning addict. She just needed to get away.

She just had to escape. She moved out of home into his. He was her exciting meal ticket out of the doldrums and to the fresh air and greener grass.

For a time, it was great.

The problem for Layla now is that she feels history has repeated. She again now feels that she is trapped. She is now lives almost cut off from reality in friendless world. All her girlfriends and social life are back in her old state. She has unfortunately failed to make new ones. Layla survives day to day with only the internet as her outwards connection. Without the net, for the last few years most of her conversations would involve talking nonsense with her child. That is her life now, her new and exciting world that she originally envisaged has crumbled to ash in front of her smoke- and tear-filled eyes.

She now looks forwards to the time where she can escape watching endless repeats of children's television. Her moment of pleasure comes when she disappears into the garage. It also comes from her twenty or more Camel Crushes a day. She has not got back to the two packs a day. As she does not have the time.

Layla first started smoking when she was sixteen, it was a perfect time to rebel. She fell in with the wrong crowd at school. But there was no real peer pressure involved for her. It was all down the fact that she had repetitively been told by her parents not to smoke. Her mom had told her repeatedly told her that cigarettes were dangerous and evil. For Layla found the best way that she knew to fulfil her hormonal teen rebellious angst was to fight that. The battle lines were set. She knew very early on that she was going to smoke.

Little did Layla know that she rebelled in exactly the same way that her mom had. Her mom was a wonderful mom but carried a little secret. When she also when out of sight of her husband and children, she enjoyed a cigarette or two.

This all came to a head one afternoon when Layla was sneaking back from a gas station having bunked off school after lunch. She was casually smoking her cigarette that she had just bought without ID. With her pretty eyes and face she had found exceedingly early on that fluttering her long eyelashes and smiling nicely got her everywhere she needed to get.

She wanted cigarettes from the gas station, and that was exactly what she got.

However, that afternoon was one of the several points her life where it started to crumble a little. When she got to the stoplight to cross the road, she had paused to take a very much needed drag on the cigarette. She had been looking forward to it all morning. It was as she casually exhaled that panic started to build. Through her cloud of smoke a car she recognised rolled to a stop in front of her.

It did not take more than a second to realise that it was her mom's car. The anxiety grew, she was in trouble for two things. Firstly, she should have been at school and not near the gas station, and secondly, she clearly had a burning cigarette between her fingers, however much she was at that moment trying to hide it behind her back.

There was surprising twist to the situation. Her mom was sitting there in her car, her elbow hanging out the window and Layla's eyes could not help but not notice that between her recently painted nails was her own cigarette. The two of them staring at each other, cigarette in hand, in total disbelief. They were both rebelling from being the goody two shoes that they were meant to be.

They stood there, both eyes focused on each other wanting to know who should move next. Layla felt the cracks in the sidewalk were about to open wide and consume her. Eventually the light in front of her went green, and after hurriedly flicking the evidence of the butt to the floor, Layla scampered across the road and scurried home.

Once home the situation was hellish, she was in the doghouse and facing her mom and dad. She quite rightly told her if she was adult enough to smoke, she had to pay ALL her own bills. Her mom was an adult, so therefore could smoke if she chose to.

Layla had a clear moment of realism and sensibly threw her cigarettes in the bin. She could not afford, as a new driver, her car insurance, or even the threatened rent to stay at home. Layla was meant to be at school. The good girl she was, she knew she needed to be in school.

She was good student for a whole another year. Buckled down at school and focused on learning getting the grades she needed.

It was when she reached eighteen, started working for her mom part time, earning cash, and then headed off to college, social groups meant that cigarettes reappeared on the horizon. An easy trap to fall into. She argued when predictably caught again, that she could afford the various bills. As she had the job. She was an adult. Things then started to go slightly awry. She did briefly move out with a boyfriend, that relationship lasted all of a year, but she was soon back home, stressed and depressed, smoking more and taking greater quantities of coke.

There was one bonus, that when working for her mom they bonded over their mutual need for cigarettes. Both sneaking out the back of the office for much needed smoke. The original rules were still live. Layla had to fund her addiction herself. She had the part time job, which was no problem. Over time they began to enjoy smoking together. Smoking in each other's company rebuilt their relationship.

She got through college and heading off to university helped Layla, again she had the freedom to enjoy her cigarettes. She got a great well-paid job in the corporate environment after graduation. She changed careers a couple of times and her smoking habit slowly increased from half a pack to a whole pack, to two packs. She did not need to fight anyone anymore. But her rebellious streak meant that she needed lots of nicotine, and because of the issues in her life, unfortunately cocaine. Just to survive in the world.

Layla is now so pleased that she did not discover the smoking fetish in her lowest ebb, looking back that could have been dangerous. She was far too addicted to anything and everything.

It all changed for Layla once she reached thirty. Her buried inner rebel struck again, and life altered. For the first time in her life, she properly moved out of her parents' house. Layla dreamed and fantasied about being a "daddy's girl." She had always liked and admired the older men. That thought of hunk of a man spending cash to look after her. Having someone spend money on her and to keep her happy. That was her fantasy. She loved the idea of playing out that desire. Being the princess. The stars aligned on that night in the bar.

She had her dream adventure planned. She had already lost her well paid job but had now found someone to fulfil her fantasies. He played the role of 'daddy' and kindly funded her life and importantly her cigarettes and cocaine. She was doing so much coke, even her dealer told her she needed to chill.

But Layla and her partner had fun together. She played the good housewife, did the cleaning, cooking and homemaking. In between smoking her cigarettes, as he went out to work. He fulfilled all her sexual whims, desires and more. Life was great. Then predictably after a lot of passionate exciting sex, several months later her life changed again. She found out that she was pregnant. Layla was good girl that deep down she knew she was.

She went cold turkey, the smoking and drug taking stopped overnight. Mother nature kicked into overdrive, the need to nurture and the desire to look after the unborn baby won the battle over her personal destructive addictions.

But a few months after the birth, unsurprisingly life for Layla again became different. But not for the reasons you would expect.

They moved states, they changed location His job moved, so they packed up her bags and child and crossed the country to live in her now partner's place. Everything was rosy to start with.

The roll of mom was one thing. But again, for Layla outside forces were again at play.

She still loyally plays the role of the most wonderful mom to the child and the most amazing homemaker to her partner that he could possibly want. She is the best wifey and mom that she can be. However, she still sees herself as the young twenty-year-old trapped in a thirty-six-year-old mom's body. She really wants freedom back.

But as her life has changed again. Her Camel Crush Blue are now very much needed between her left hand. Rather than hiding in her car. She can go out to the garage, put the music up loud and have her time. It is her magical moment away from partner, and away from the child. Her flash of fun. She found starting to smoke again was easy. Even now when her mom visits, she will bring cigarettes with her. They enjoy the time when they share a cigarette together.

Her man is a safety inspector, he spends his day strutting around factories in a hard hat and high vis jacket, carrying a clipboard being all important.

That over importance is then brought home. Almost magnified and concentrated within the four walls of the house. She is repetitively told she is not worthy of him. She feels as if she is the princess locked in the tower. Playing the role of "daddy" has turned him into what she refers to as a narcissist.

When having fed everyone breakfast and made the packed lunch. Kisses her man on the lip's goodbye for the day, gets affectionately patted on her arse as they act the very loved up couple. Then, once he safely leaves the house, and the little one is in school, she can unhook her bra, and lower her knickers and then in front of the camera gets to live out a different fantasy. Her latest desire of pleasing men with her smoke.

The act of smoking does not turn Layla on, she personally gets nothing sexual from it. Nor does she pretend to. But thanks to Reddit she is now fully aware of the smoking fetish.

The front door locked shut, she is now the "whore" that her partner wishes she truly were. She loves and understands how she can make men tick with a flick of her lighter. They can watch recordings of her sitting topless in a sexy thong or ripped jeans, showing off her large naturally sagging 36C breasts and curvaceous buttocks, as her lungs heave in the smoke. She feels sexy, she knows that they see her as sexy. She alternates her clips with location, occasionally filming herself smoking in the shower.

The equal pleasure they get as she shows off her thick thighs and pretty hazel eyes behind a constant cloud of grey smoke.

Layla uses music to get herself in the mood to record herself. At this moment in time, she is listening at full to Celine Dion by qveen Herby. She believes it talks to her, it drives and then guides her inhales and exhales. For her the music intertwines with the smoke and becomes part of her.

She now gets her pleasure from men being turned on by her sitting there and enjoying herself, the music and most importantly her cigarettes. It is a mutual beneficial situation. She gets her nicotine and then gets great delight as her bank balance is quietly topped up as they kindly give her money.

As for the act of smoking Layla is disgusted that for the last twenty years that she has been so strongly addicted to nicotine. That her parents were right. Smoking is truly evil. She also hates that cigarettes are so expensive. Handing over cash for the needed packs each week. Yet for all the negatives, for Layla she still finds smoking so enjoyable.

Also, deep down Layla loves that she is a rebel.

Layla enjoys the time she gets to smoke for her men on the net. She is over the moon that over a hundred of them subscribe monthly to her. They hand her their hard-earned cash to watch her fill her lungs with smoke filled pleasure, as she smokes hard on several of her Camels.

She acts the way they expect her to, and the performance is what they are paying for it, is for their mutual benefit. Her continued smoking is very much for her addiction, yet as the smoke fills her lungs, it tingles burns their fetish desire. Each month their money is secretly banked to fund her next potential escape.

Layla at night now dreams that all her depraved men excitedly watching her enjoy her own habit, that will one day fund that ability to flee yet again.

However, for now, as with every workday as of five thirty in the evening, Layla is back in the kitchen, bra, and knickers firmly back in place, looking all prim, proper, and wifey with her piny on. As she smiles happily at her man as she stands in front of the stove cooking dinner for her partner and child like the good and well-behaved housewife that he believes she truly is.

The End