The Smoker Returns

This story can be seen as a sequel to my recently published story, The Smoker. However, it can be read on its own if you have not, or do not want to, read the previous story. The Smoker received a mixed reaction. I am grateful for the encouragement I received, both online and off line, for the story The Smoker. In this story, Mary kicks the habit, and some of her behavior that readers found offensive is no longer present. I hope you like the story, and give Mary and Marlene a second chance.

A warning: This story includes wife swapping, and a kind of orgy (or group sex) scene. If you are not prepared for that, it might be best to skip the story.

********************

Mary was upset. Here she was, saddled with a husband she adored, and who adored her, but somehow he felt the need to have an extra marital affair whenever he went out of town on business.

What was wrong with her? Why was she not enough for him? She knew she was pretty. She had proved to herself she was still sexy, and attractive, when she went to Chicago and had her own dalliances (so there, Mark!). It had been so easy! And, she had to admit, she had enjoyed it a lot. But it was an amazingly stupid thing to have done.

She felt horribly guilty at having had the affairs. But in a way, she was glad: Because of her husband Mark's serial philandering, she had been depressed. She had felt old, no longer sexually attractive, and over the hill. All this, even though she is only in her early to mid-thirties.

She had felt ugly. But seeing how easy it was to get men interested in her restored her confidence, as well as her self-esteem. She felt pretty and sexy again. She was ready to turn her renewed sexual confidence full barrel on her unsuspecting husband.

As Literature professors are wont to do, she tried to analyze the problem, thinking it was something she could solve, if only she could find a solution. Why wasn't she enough for her husband Mark? Why did he constantly need to lay new women?

She had tried everything she could think of. She changed her manner of dress; now she dressed as sexy as she dared in their small college town. At home, she dressed hyper sexy; often over the top risqué. She cooked his favorite meals; sometimes she would cook topless, and serve him topless. Mark loved that. One time she even cooked in the nude, wearing only an apron. She kept the house cleaner than ever before, and neater, too.

She began to give Mark blowjobs. A blowjob in the morning, a blowjob in the evening, a blowjob at suppertime. And she was sexually available at any time. If she had a headache, she lived with it. He could have all the sex he wanted. She even offered him anal sex. He took her anal cherry, and they did the deed a few times, but he did not seem that interested in it. Nether was she, so this was quite fortunate.

The second biggest thing she did, and this had not been easy, was to assume he needed variety, and not just new conquests. So, she had tried to provide variety close to home, where she could control things: she gave him her best friend Marlene, and he could have her, too, whenever he wanted.

In exchange, she gave her body to Marlene's husband Sam, whenever he wanted her. He wanted her a lot. She was having a lot of sex between Mark and Sam. So was Marlene. Both men seemed pleased, and neither woman minded that much. Both men were great men, and both were excellent lovers, too.

Now you might think that giving sexual access of your friend to your husband, and giving yourself to your friend's husband in exchange, is a pretty big deal. It was. Both women were uneasy about it, but their husbands seemed to love the idea. Nevertheless, it was not the biggest thing Mary did in her plan to improve her marriage and to end Mark's serial philandering.

The biggest thing Mary did, and by far the hardest thing, was to quit smoking. She quit cold turkey. No patches or aids of any kind for her. Just raw, intense, will power. For the first two weeks it was intolerable. She knew it would be, so she left and went to Chicago. She wanted nobody she cared for to see her during withdrawal.

Mark supported her decision, and treated her to a nice hotel room for the two-week duration. She was afraid the image of her suffering, and consequently short tempered, would be hard to forget. She did not want that image rattling around in the heads of her loved ones.

Now in Chicago, Mary was sitting in a bar, grumpy as all get go. She was nervous, going through withdrawal. It was horrible. She had a constant headache, and her moods alternated between anxiety, nervousness, and a kind of listless sloth.

When the waiter came over, she almost bit his head off. She quickly apologized. She ordered a glass of white wine. She checked to see where was the next day's Chicagoland meeting of Nicotine Anonymous. You could do a Nicotine Anonymous meeting on line, but Mary found it more effective in person.

The one concession to her dignity was that she made an effort to dress well. She always looked nice, even if she felt like crap. This led to some interesting times. Each night she would sit in a bar, reading a book and nursing a glass of white wine. Then she nursed a second glass, and then a third glass.

Men would see her there, her shapely legs revealed as her skirt rode up her thighs, her gorgeous breasts barely hidden in her low-cut blouse or dress, and they would hit on her. Every single night one or more men would hit on her. She told them up front two things: (1) she was married and not available, and (2) she was in nicotine withdrawal and subject to horrific mood swings.

Nevertheless, the men would persist. They knew she had a buzz on, and that she was pretty and sexy. She would not have been the first married woman who would have an anonymous fling in a hotel. The men would strike out, but Mary had fun watching them try.

Had Mark not been in the picture, some of the men might not have struck out. But she had decided to be loyal. She did not even know if Mark cared! But then, she thought, of course he did. All men care about their wives cheating.

But she did enjoy fantasizing about what could have happened if she had been single. She could have had a different man every single night. She tried to imagine how their fucking styles might differ: this one would just want head, the next one would want standard old missionary position sex, one man would want to take her in the window, in full view of another hotel across the way, and so on. The idea of a man taking her in the window got her surprisingly aroused, she realized.

None of this happened, of course, it was just the fantasies of a lonely, unhappy woman going through nicotine withdrawal.

Men themselves could cheat all they wanted to, and not have a single qualm about demanding sexual fidelity of their wives. Women could not. There was a lack of symmetry in the male-female equation. Mary knew that.

The first night her would be seducer was named Harry. After he struck out, Mary left the bar and went to her room. She decided to name her vibrator Harry for the night. After the vibrator did its magic, she followed up with Harry the dildo. Harry the dildo showed her a good time too, and she had a nice little orgasm.

This became her pattern for two long weeks. Machines and rubber penises helped, but they were no replacement for the real thing, and when she finally returned to her home town, and to Mark, she walked in, stripped off her clothes, and yelled, "Fuck me, Mark! Take me now!"

Mary drained Mark dry. It was not hard, because he had spent a lot of the previous night, and that very morning, too, enjoying the sexual favors of Mary's best friend Marlene. This was in part because Marlene's husband Sam too was out of town. But Mary did not know that just then.

All Mary wanted was Mark. All she needed was Mark's love. At that moment, she felt she had both.

Mary read widely about why men cheat. There were lots of theories: To recapture lost youth; to reassure themselves that they are attractive; basic misogyny and just wanting to lay and possibly to humiliate women; Oedipal complexes; biological imperatives about "spreading their seed;" she found all sorts of reasons/justifications. She finally decided upon the definitive answer, which was also the simplest: Men cheat because they can. Mary had to lay down the law. No cheating tolerated. But she was too terrified of losing Mark to do this.

Mark and Sam still had to travel for business, of course. And both Marlene and Mary gradually realized that Mark and Sam still both cheated. Old habits die hard. Nothing had worked. What do you do when your man is a compulsive cheater? The age-old solution is divorce.

But in spite of his apparent need for promiscuity, Mary knew Mark still loved her. Mary did not take her Catholic religion that seriously, but divorce? The very idea made her flesh crawl. Mary met Marlene at their favorite bar to discuss things.

"Thanks for coming, Marlene," Mary said.

"Of course. I just got out of the sack with your husband. Mark is an animal in bed," Marlene said.

"In bed? How conventional of him."

"Well, actually, I was just using that as a figure of speech. He fucked me outdoors," Marlene said.

"That sounds more like Mark. He only fucks his bimbos in bed; and that's in hotel beds when he's traveling. Did he do you in Tompkins Park?" Mary asked. "Did he take you from behind while you were sprawled over the boulder there?"

"He wanted to," Marlene replied. "But there were children around. So we drove into the country, and he stripped me naked and did me in a field. I was terrified we would be discovered."

"That sounds like Mark. Risk, and the humiliation of women, are two of his tropes." Mary said. Marlene was used to Mary using literature jargon; she could infer what Mary meant.

"This isn't working, you know," Marlene said.

"Yes, I know. That's today's topic for discussion," Mary replied, as the waitress appeared. She was young, pretty, and a little busty. Like many waitresses, she wore a little something, and it was low cut. That way, she got bigger tips from the Marks and the Sams of the world.

Most likely the waitress was a college student. She had to be over 21, since she was serving alcohol, but she could still be a senior. Possibly at some point she would be in one of Mary's classes; luckily, she was too young to be found naked in some park with Mark taking her from behind. "A glass of Chablis, please," Mary said.

"The same for me," Marlene said.

The waitress left. Marlene said, "We need a new idea. Besides divorce, I mean."

"I agree. I think I might have one," Mary said.

Mary and Marlene had a long talk. Four glasses of Chablis later they were sloshed, but they had a plan.

Mark was going on a business trip Thursday that same week. When Mary came home, she explained to Mark that she was going with him. She was going to be his bimbo. He was going to pick her up in a bar, instead of taking some tramp to his room.

"I'll be the tramp," Mary said.

"What about your classes? Don't you have to teach?" Mark asked.

"Joe agreed to cover them for me," Mary replied.

"Joe? Isn't he the man you think is a sexual predator?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"What do you have to do in exchange? Teach two of his classes at some point?"

"No," Mary said, hesitantly, blushing as she said it. "He's asking for something else."

Mark looked suspicious, possibly angry. "What does he want, exactly?"

"Only with your permission, Mark," Mary said, but she could not continue.

"My permission? What the fuck are you talking about?" Now there was little doubt Mark was getting angry.

Mary just blurted it out. "Two blowjobs, One in advance, and one on completion. And I am to be naked while giving them. I'll ask if you can watch, if you want to?"

"You agreed to that??" Mark's voice was no longer at a reasonable volume or pitch.

"I told him I would ask you first," Mary lied.

"Do you think I would allow my wife to give that asshole a blowjob? Naked??"

"That way I won't get cum on my clothes. You know I can't always swallow everything," Mary replied. Perversely she was enjoying this. She knew Mark got blowjobs from bimbos on his business trips.

"It could be sexy with you watching? Maybe spice up our sex lives?" Mary offered. She was enjoying tormenting her cheating husband. In reality, she had not even asked Joe. Sara Beth had already agreed to cover her classes.

"No! Categorically NO!" Mark screamed.

"No problem, Mark. I'll tell Joe it's a no go. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'll let him cop a feel as a consolation prize, okay?"

Mark stormed out of the room. But later that night, he was an animal in bed. Mark ripped off Mary's flimsy nightgown, pinned her arms down on the bed, bit her breasts, and then viciously plunged his cock deep inside her. She was already wet.

Mark pistoned in and out of her with the force of a long haul 18-wheeler. Mary could not catch her breath. Mark was venting his anger, but suddenly he noticed that Mary's chest was flush, her breathing was uneven, and she was moaning. Concerned, he slowed down his thrusting.

"No, don't stop!" came the throaty reply, followed by more moans. Mary was thrashing her head from side to side. Mark had lost his anger, but now eager to please his lust crazed wench of a wife, he resumed the style his anger had inspired. Mary in turn reacted in kind, and minutes later he drove her to the most intense orgasm of their married life.

Mark continued to pound his sexy wife, lying beneath him in the marital bed, and she whimpered, having little orgasmic aftershocks, one after the other. Mary's reaction to Mark's brutal fucking had led not only to the best sex of their marriage, but also to the best sex Mark had ever had. None of his many bimbos, many of whom faked it he was sure, even remotely approached the reality true love and passion can bring to sex.

Having exploded and filled his wife with his cum, he lay on top of her and received a blizzard of kisses. Mary was stroking his back, kissing his chest, and mumbling, "Wonderful. God oh God, Mark, that was wonderful. Never stop loving me, ever."

Mark is not the most loquacious lover in the world. He simply said, "I never will."

Mark got up early, with the sun. He looked at his sleeping wife. She was wearing a thin T shirt, and nothing else. Breathing evenly, she was lying on her back, her breasts sagged to the sides, and her nipples poked underneath the T shirt, poking in opposite directions. They gently rose and fall with her breaths. God, she was gorgeous. He also could not believe how good the sex had been the previous night. He knew he was a lucky man.

Mark gently pulled down the covers, so as not to wake his sexpot of a wife, the woman capable of giving him such sexual bliss. He feasted his eyes, visually exploring the area he had so enjoyed physically before he fell asleep. He slipped his hand under her T shirt and pushed it up over her breasts, exposing her boobs to his hungry eyes.

"Morning, honey," Mary said, sleep in her voice. "Want me to make you some coffee? God, you were wonderful last night."

"No babe. Just go back to sleep. You need your beauty sleep to stay so pretty," Mark said. He took a cell phone picture of her lying there nude, with her T shirt bunched up around her neck, her long auburn hair swirling around her pretty face. The picture looked obscenely sexy. He covered her naked body with the sheets and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

The next day, Mary met with Marlene. She recounted what had happened. They agreed she must have tapped a hidden vein of passion: jealousy. Mary decided to explore it further. Marlene approved. She planned to try the same thing with Sam.

Mary manipulated things and found what really got Mark's engines going. Mary would talk about some man at work, or one of their male friends, and tell Mark how much she thought he desired her. An example was a man named Steve.

"How do you know Steve wants you, Mary?" Mark asked.

"Oh, the way he flirts, for one," she replied. Mark had her quote extensively from the flirtatious exchanges she had experienced with Steve. Steve's preferred method of flirting was the double entendre.

"That's not so bad. He sounds harmless," Mark said.

"Yes, I'm sure he is. And then there's the inadvertent touching. And the Christmas party that you refused to go to, remember?" Mary said.

"What about it?" Mark asked. His interest had definitely increased.

"Well do you remember I came home drunk?" Mary asked.

"Yes, you were plastered." Mark chuckled. He always thought it was funny that Mary got drunk so easily.

"And my clothes were in a bit of disarray?"

"Well, your blouse was no longer tucked in, if that's what you mean." Mark said, his interest growing.

A long discussion followed. Mark at times had to pry the story out of Mary; there were parts she was reluctant to tell. She easily told of the dancing, when Steve had held her too close, and his erection pushed against her.

She told how he had manipulated them under the mistletoe. (Mary had known he was doing this, and happily let him do it, but she did not tell Mark that; she made it sound as if she had been unaware. She had also acted unaware at the Christmas Party. She was good at playing the innocent.)

"Well you know, at a party you have to kiss if you get trapped under the mistletoe. Nobody lets you get away without accepting a little kiss. I had to let him peck me on the lips," she said.

"And?"

"Well, you know he's much bigger and stronger than I am," Mary said, not finishing the thought. "And I was drunk at this point, and a little unsteady on my feet, and well...."

"For how long did he kiss you?"

"Around five minutes. It seemed longer. Open mouth, too," Mary said. "And his hands were busy during the kiss. It felt like I was kissing an octopus."

Mark exploded at this point. He walked over to her, ripped off her dress, ruining it, and took her rear entry, on the stairs. He fucked her so hard she kept banging her head on the stair above. Once again, her orgasm was over the top.

She was glad she did not have to tell him why she came home without her bra. He had never noticed, apparently. Steve keeps her bra in a drawer of his desk at the college. Sometimes he opens the drawer to show it to her, and she giggles, remembering how exciting it was when he removed it and then took full advantage of her being topless.

They had gone outside. Mary was hopelessly drunk, and she leaned on him to stand. She was hoping the cold air would help to sober her up a bit.

She was not sure exactly how it happened, but at one point she was shivering cold. She looked down and was surprised to see Steve's hands on her bare breast, tweaking her nipples. Then she realized she had been groaning from the sexual pleasure.

Steve next begun to unzip her skirt, but fortunately she became more aware of her molestation, and put a stop to things. She quickly put on her blouse. It was just in time, too, because Mitch had come outside, looking for them. He might have seen her topless, it's hard to say. But certain subsequent wise cracks indicated to her that Mitch had at the least gotten a nice look at her boobs.

The very idea that two of her colleagues had seen her bare boobs, and one of them even had fondled them, outraged her. But to be truthful, the very thought aroused her, as well. None of this did Mark need to know!

Mark and Mary had fun like this, if you can call it fun. Mark was tormented, but Mary was enjoying herself immensely. She had run out of these incidents with which to entertain Mark, so she began to make them up. Mark knew she was making them up, but he enjoyed them a lot, too.