Sissy Aunty Gina - A Smoking Fetish

Sissy Aunty Gina -- A Smoking Fetish Love Story.

(Author's Note: This story is fictional. It contains scenes of consensual "ravishment" as part of lovers' role-play, cigarette smoking and graphic sex. All characters are over the age of consent.)

It's early Friday afternoon and I'm just about ready for my weekend date with my long-time lover, Simon, who lives an hour's drive away from home. We've been dating for three years now and I drive over to his house every weekend to spend the most wonderful times with him. We have a very special relationship, one that developed after our second date together and one which we've evolved together to suit our particular likes, fetishes and needs. We trust each other implicitly and, honestly, we are very much in love, so much so that I am wearing a gold wedding ring and a diamond and sapphire engagement ring -- pledges of our love we made over two years ago. We could be living together as man and wife, but we decided to be together the way we do at the moment as it would cause to many problems in our "normal", domestic lives and this arrangement works well for us, though that, of course, may change as time passes.

I've spent the last few hours getting ready to meet my lover so it's appropriate that I take this opportunity to introduce myself. I have spent a lifetime, since my late teens, as a crossdresser though I think of myself as 100% sissy. I've had a long and very active "other life" as my femme self and been able to indulge in all my desires and fetishes over the years, to create the image I now am and share with my wonderful lover, Simon.

I was born sixty-four years ago and grew up in a time when women really were, to me, glamorous and I admired their fashions and styles as my sexual awakenings took hold of me. I realised quite early on in life that I was sexually attracted to the glamorous styles of the day, but not from the viewpoint of most young men's longings, but that I wanted to actually be just like those beautiful women, to look like those glamorous women myself.

Over the years of my crossdressing, I've hung onto those images of what I've created in myself and found great fetishistic delight in maintaining my image over the years. I get as much pleasure from creating and enhancing my femme image almost as much as I do presenting myself for my lover and being with him. I always wear retro fashions: lingerie, makeup, hairstyles and clothing, and indeed present the image of what many a waspish woman has been heard to say about me when out with Simon, a typical "mutton dressed as lamb" appearance, though to be honest, I've seen many older women of my years who adopted a fashion sense and style in the fifties and sixties and, like me, have never changed, either because they know just how glamorous they look or because their partner is truly in love with that image also -- I totally understand those "out of their time" women, as I am one myself!

As with many crossdressers, or as a "sissy" as I prefer to be classified, I have fallen in love with and evolved my own image and style and lifestyle over the years, to be my perfect woman not only for my lovers, but also, and importantly, for myself. For me to be the perfect image of what I want for myself is central to being the sissy of my dreams in looks and to share that lifestyle with a devoted lover and achieve total fulfilment is a dream come true. The anticipation of presenting myself and getting ready for my weekend with Simon has been all-consuming, as it is every week, and "love of myself" fulfilling all my desires and fetishes for the weekend to come.

My preparations started this morning when I took a long, scented bath and used depilatory cream all over my body to ensure my skin was smooth, though after years of preparation to become my femme self, by body is now, pretty much hairless most of the time. My head is shaven so that I have a perfect fit and look for my "hairstyle" (a term which I much prefer to refer to rather than "wig"). After the bath I attended to personal internal cleanliness by having a large, 4 litre enema to make sure that I'm perfectly clean inside. I'm very careful with my diet to ensure that I keep my slim figure so the enema is just really a precaution to ensure having a clean bottom. Now I can indulge myself with creating Gina, my glamorous alter-ego.

My weekend bag was already packed with outfits, lingerie, shoes and additional makeup, hairstyles and accessories which I would need, so I started to dress in the things I would be going to wear meet my lover. Firstly I put on a black, eight-strap satin suspender belt with "proper" metal fasteners and a black, lacy, long-line, "A" cup bra. I have no need for bra-fillers as I have a small, natural bust which has developed over the years from a long regime of breast-pumping and coupled with a lifetime of nipple-pumping, gives me quite long, sensitive nipples which is a true delight of my, Gina's, femininity.

My nipples are already becoming hard and erect as I dress and my tiny, three inch cockette starts to get a little bit hard with mounting anticipation as I sit at my dressing table and take out a new packet of "Aristoc" dark tan, fully-fashioned nylons and begin to smooth them up my legs, ensuring that the seams are perfectly straight and attach them to the straps of my eight suspenders. I stand and admire my seams in the dressing-table mirror, adjusting the straps at the back so they fit perfectly. I adore the pull of the suspenders attached to the lovely nylon stockings and by pert bottom is perfectly framed. I can't help but once again, thank my "luck" at still being slim, shapely and perhaps more importantly being "petite" for a sissy, at just 5 feet 2 inches, literally in stockinged feet!

Now for Gina's most important transformation -- my makeup. One of my main fetishes and totally complimentary to what I wear, is my love of heavy, but expertly-applied, retro makeup. I simply love the feel, scent and colours of makeup totally.

Firstly I apply a pair of black, whispy false eyelashes and ensure they are perfectly positioned. Next I take Revlon foundation makeup which is a couple of shades darker than my natural skin tone and apply it thickly to my face with a sponge applicator. I ensure that my face and neck is perfectly covered with the thick concealer makeup and that my mainly smooth skin, several small blemishes and small wrinkles are coated properly and then add concealer powder which creates a perfect canvas for my cosmetics. I now can start to create my image of what I love, a mature woman wearing much, too much makeup for her age! I use smoky dark grey eyeshadow on my eyelids ensuring that the powder creates a deep, arching line in the crease and then apply pale grey, glittery eyeshadow highlighting my eyes up to where my eyebrows will be. Satisfied with the base coats of my eyeshadow blended to my satisfaction, I outline my eyes with black liquid kohl eyeliner, creating the classic fifties retro look, of "Cleopatra" eyes with extended whisps of liner making my blue eyes look startlingly "large". I then create my eyebrows with a black, liquid eyebrow wand, forming two heavily-arched perfect brows higher than my totally-plucked natural bowline would be and admire my skill at creating Gina's, gorgeous image. Next I take a dark brown lip-liner pencil and draw the outline of my lips, creating a fuller-lipped look with defined "cupid's bow". I then select my lover's favourite Pillarbox Red glossy lipstick and apply it to my full lips following the dark lip-liner so that my glossy, red lips are accentuated to their fullest. Lastly, I apply blusher to my cheeks and a little to my forehead and neck to accentuate my features and the image I am so much in love with. Perfect.

I'm now nearly the completed image of Gina, a sixty-four year old glamorous woman wearing way too much, over-the-top heavy makeup, looking like a fifties whore and I'm in paradise! I pack away my cosmetics in the weekend bag, anticipating with delight that I shall be needing all my makeup over the weekend as my lover and I indulge in our pleasures and fetishes and finish dressing. I select a pair of black, satin, french-style panties trimmed with lace and pretty ribbons and tuck down my tiny cockette and ball-sack so they are hidden away and then step into a black pencil skirt with back-split that accentuates my bottom and waist and which just covers my stocking tops if I stand straight. This skirt and all my others have been specifically chosen by length, so that if I bend even just a little bit, and as I'm walking, my stocking tops immediately become visible -- the mark of a total slut! I then take from my wardrobe a beautiful bolero-style black jacket with puffed sleeves and put it on, carefully buttoning up the front of it to complete my dress, it's shaping accentuating my slim waist and small bust.

Next I sit at the dressing table and select from my hundreds of sets, a full set of long, red false nails which I glue carefully into position and then apply a fresh coating of Pillarbox Red nail polish to each making them glossy and making my small hands look so feminine and pretty. I can't help but admire my bright red talons and love the way they make my wedding ring and engagement look so perfectly femme. From my jewellery box I select a wide, gold bracelet and finer, gold chain together with a gold, costume jewellery necklace and put them on, finishing with large, gold, hooped earrings in my pierced ears.

From the wardrobe shelf I take my favourite hairstyle and replace the sticky pads inside with fresh tape to ensure that I don't have any embarrassing "accidents" with it. I love the difficulty of having to cope with long nails at doing fiddly jobs, it's such a feminine and sissy thing we "girls" have to live with and enhances our vulnerability and weakness.

At the dressing table I place the hairstyle carefully and ensure that it's perfectly fitted. I adore the way the black, shiny, shoulder-length hair curls gracefully around my face, the way it's obviously styled including the offset parting which curls away to one side accentuates the shape of my face in a typically fifties or sixties style. I then apply a good amount of cheap hairspray to my hair creating the effect of not just holding the carefully-coiffured style but also providing the delightful scent of hairspray itself. I then apply lots of Chanel Number 5 perfume as the overpowering effect of too much perfume has the effect of completing the "way too much" image and style I adore.

Lastly I step into the black court shoes I shall be travelling in -- not too high a heel for driving, just four inches, but because I have small, size four and a half feet, even these heels make my feet arch and give me the vulnerability and sexy appeal I wish to achieve. I admire myself in the mirror and am delighted with the way I look, my little cockette getting a little excited inside my panties at the thought of the weekend to come.

And now I can finally complete Gina's image and become the total woman of mine and my lover's dreams. I have been waiting for this moment all day and the anticipation of fulfilling my fetish desires has finally arrived. From my handbag I take out a packet of Superking cigarettes and the gold lighter which Simon gave me as a birthday present three years ago.

For all my life I've seemed to be fascinated with beautiful women smoking and as part of Gina's evolution she has indulged her passion, excitement, need and fetishistic delight in smoking. Using my long, red nails I carefully open the cigarettes and lovingly take one out, carefully placing it between my red lips and light it. As I replace cigarettes and lighter into my handbag I inhale deeply on the wonderful, soothing cigarette smoke and take it deep into my body. This is me. I am now Gina.

I try to hold my cigarette in as feminine a way, to me, as possible; always with fingers fully outstretched to show off my perfect long nails, and I hold the cigarette well beyond the filter as I have seen elegant women do all my life, that is to say, those women who like me, appreciate the feminine beauty of a cigarette. This is also a good way when wearing so much lipstick, of not getting the lipstick stains on one's fingers which would make the cigarette messy. I also have a personal rule, which that my cigarette is either held perfectly between my fingers at all times or is held dangling from my heavily-lipsticked lips, and never to be put down on an ashtray.

I take the beautiful white cigarette between my outstretched fingers and adore the way it looks contrasting the white of the cigarette and the glossy red of my long fingernails. I hold the cigarette very femininely and exhale through my pursed, red lips a fine plume of blue-grey smoke into the air. I bring the cigarette to my lips again and take a deep drag, inhaling the cigarette smoke and the feminine scents of my perfume and hairspray and slowly exhale. Total delight. I am addicted to myself. I am the perfectly overly-made-up, retro-fashioned, very mature, cigarette-smoking slut, with the cum-fuck-me heels and stocking-tops displayed in public, haughtiness which comes from knowing, and feeling, that I look like the fuck-slut of dreams!

With beautiful cigarette dangling between my red lips, I pick up my weekend bag and handbag and mince from my bedroom, carefully descend the stairs then check myself in the hall mirror -- God I look so bloody sexy! - I take a deep drag on the sluttily-dangling cigarette, lock the front door behind myself and go to the car putting my weekend bag and handbag onto the passenger seat. Walking round the car, my heels satisfyingly "clacking" on the concrete, I get into the car and start my journey to Simon's home.

As I drive the familiar route to my lover's home I can't help but keep glancing in the aptly-named "vanity" mirror at my own image. I smile with pure delight and take a deep inhale from my beautifully-slutty cigarette and admire it and my nails on the steering wheel. I feel the delicious tautness of my suspender straps tugging at the tan nylons beneath my tight skirt and the familiar, but slightly precarious way I have to carefully use the peddles because of my high heels, relishing the feeling of being vulnerable but oh, so very feminine in my cigarette smoke-filled comfort. Already the anticipation of being with my beautiful lover is making my whole body tingle with excitement and as I drive I easily and delightfully become who I am and who my lover needs.

I shall be arriving at Simon's home as his Aunty Gina. I am going to his home to "look after him". Simon will be my grown-up nephew. It's our scenario, filled with our fetish needs, desires and much, oh, so much love. Simon adores me exactly as I am: very mature, retro-styled, sluttish, exceedingly feminine, heavily-made-up and with a fetish love that is matched only my by own self for myself, he's totally passionate about, and addicted to my cigarette-smoking altar-ego, his aunty Gina.

So a little about my lover Simon, before I finally arrive at his home. Simon is forty years old, single, has a lovely, detached house into which we both fit in perfectly. He is six feet two inches tall, so he really towers over me even in heels, is well-built but not fat, he's very fit though not athletic. Compared to my tiny three-inch cockette, Simon's uncut manhood is eight inches long and has a good girth so much so that I can't close my hand round it.

As Simon is addicted to his aunty Gina, in the scenario which we delight in and has been so for most of our relationship, and because Simon is so turned-on by his aunty Gina, this leads to all sorts of "problems", as his aunty Gina is, pretending she doesn't know it, a complete "prick-tease". My role in our relationship is to "look after him" as an aunt should, cooking, cleaning, all the things a respectable aunty would do for a nephew over a weekend. Gina is a little bit "strait-laced".

The problem is that Simon gets so turned on by his aunty that he is prone to forcing himself upon her to satiate his lusts to such an extent that aunty Gina gets ravaged repeatedly throughout the weekend. As for myself, as Simon's aunty Gina, I am shocked by Simon's continued, unceasing, unwanted attentions and continually have to fight him off until his passions are sated, whereupon I try to rebuke him for ravaging me repeatedly, but lovingly forgive him if he promises not to do it again. Of course Simon always apologises for his animalistic nature and I always forgive him, but we always have a wonderful time together and we love each other with total devotion.

At four-thirty I pull into Simon's drive and park the car. Before getting out I stub out my cigarette, take my handbag and reapply my lipstick to glossy perfection. I then take out a fresh cigarette and light it -- I want Simon to have the benefit of my perfect image from the start, and refresh my perfume so that the heady scent hangs round me like an aphrodisiacal mist. As I start to open the car door, I see Simon emerge from the front door and quickly come round to my side and open it as a true gentleman should. He's beaming and so happy to see me, as I am him.

"Hello aunty, it's so good to see you again. You look so lovely." Simon takes my hand and helps me out of the car and I stand looking up into his beautiful face towering above me. His eyes are taking in my face and what I'm wearing and I know he's pleased.

I take a deep, slow drag on my cigarette and then reach up and place a sweet kiss on his proffered cheek, exhaling my cigarette smoke as I do so, leaving a lipstick kiss bright red on his smooth skin. Simon pulls me to him and wraps me in his strong arms, holding me tightly, but not sexually, buries his face in my neck and breathes in my feminine scents of cigarette smoke, heavy perfume and hairspray. He moans with pleasure and I hang onto his hard, strong body, standing on tiptoes even though I'm wearing high heels.

"Put me down you big, strong lummox," I gently chide him. "Get my bags and let's get settled."

Simon puts me down and closes the car door as I walk up the short drive to his front door. I know that as I am slowly walking, he's admiring the way my stocking tops are clearly visible under the hem of my skirt, helped by the split at the back and I know he's a delighting in the sight of the seams of my fully-fashioned stockings, my heels accentuating the calves of my shapely legs. He gets out my bags and closes the car door, walking to me waiting just in the hallway, with his face beaming with "the cat that's got the cream" look I know so well. In the hallway, I tell him to close the door and I proceed to go slowly up the stairs to our bedroom. I want to give him the teasing show he's been waiting all week for, so I take each step slowly and stop halfway up, turning to see that's he's enjoying the view. He certainly is, he's admiring my stocking-tops and legs and is able to see up my skirt to the black satin panties I'm wearing. I take a long drag on my cigarette and say, "Simon, you naughty boy, stop that immediately, you know it's bad manners to look up a lady's skirt. What would your mother say if I told her you'd been doing that?"

Simon replied, "Sorry, aunty Gina, I didn't mean to but it's hard not to look with you wearing such a short skirt and your stockings looking so lovely."

I continued up the stairs and into our bedroom. "Put my bags over there, like a good boy, Simon, please," I indicated the chair beside the dressing table, "I suppose I'll be sleeping in this room whilst I'm here?" I asked. I took a deep drag on my cigarette and said, "Good boy, you've put out enough ashtrays for me," as I ashed my cigarette. "This room will do nicely," I said pretending that the king size bed was new territory for me. "I'm sure I'll be comfortable here. Now go downstairs and put the kettle on and I'll make us a lovely cup of tea." As Simon simply stood there smiling, I leaned up to him and put a lipsticky kiss on his other cheek. "Now go on, leave me for a minute while I get settled. I'll be down in a few minutes." Simon obediently left closing the door quietly behind him.