I had seen her coming and going in the building where I worked for
about a year before we ever spoke to each other. I had noticed her
because of the way she moved, with almost an aloof, regal sort of
air; in truth, she didn’t seem all that approachable. But by the
same token, she had a distinctly attractive look to her that
appealed to my sense of the unconventional. I had noticed the floor
that she would get on or off the elevator and so I had an idea of
where she worked. Finally one day I had the nerve to initiate a
conversation with her in the elevator and she didn’t seem as
unfriendly as I had first thought. A few weeks later we found
ourselves in line next to each other at the coffee shop downstairs
and since I had usually seen her sitting alone I asked if she would
mind a little company.
As we talked I found myself enjoying the conversation more and
more, and when it was time to leave I thanked her for the company.
“Let’s do it again sometime”, she said with a smile, and I was only
too happy to agree. Her name was Anne, and she worked in customer
service for the insurance company in our building. She was in her
mid-30s I figured, and had straight, thick dark hair that was a
little longer than shoulder-length that framed her face. But what
I found so appealing, other than her looks which had first
attracted me to her, was her personality. I had been with too many
women who were attractive enough but didn’t do anything for me
emotionally. I had begun to think that there simply was no chance
that I’d ever find someone who was compatible and at 38 had
resigned myself to being single for the rest of my life. But I
actually enjoyed talking to Anne, and when we encountered each
other again the next day the feeling grew.
I now had to make a decision. About 10 years ago I was deeply in
love with the woman of my dreams (or so I thought). Suddenly, after
a couple of years of bliss, she told me that there was someone
else, that she loved him, and that I no longer fit into her plans.
The realization that it was over devastated me and I had trouble
handling it. It took me months just to get to the point where I
stopped thinking about her every day, and after a couple of too-
soon tries with other women I realized that the pain was not
something I wanted to experience ever again. I basically cut myself
off from any sort of relationship-seeking and turned inward. But as
I got older I began to realize that being alone wasn’t the answer
either, although I was still terrified of what might happen if
things didn’t work out. I never seemed to be able to manage having
a casual relationship – if I fell for someone, it was all the way.
Did I really want to place myself at risk again? Perhaps I was
deluding myself, thinking that this wouldn’t develop into anything
serious, or if it didn’t work out I now could handle it, or maybe
I sensed that Anne was the one, but I asked her to lunch the next
day, and she accepted. My heart jumped as she agreed, and I found
myself in the unfamiliar position of being as excited as when I was
a teenager.
Our date was thouroughly enjoyable. It turned out we liked many of
the same things, and grew up not too far from each other. The
conversation was spontaneous and plentiful, and before we knew it
90 minutes and flown by and we were both in trouble with our
bosses. I asked her as we got back to the office building if she’d
like to do something later in the week, and she suggested dinner.
She gave me her phone number on the way upstairs in the elevator,
and when she got off at her floor the smile and squeeze of my hand
that she gave me gave me a tingle I hadn’t felt for a long time.
I called her that night and we talked on the phone for hours. We
made plans for Saturday night and I suggested an Italian restaurant
that I had always loved, but being single, didn’t go to because I
always associated it with romance. As I got ready on Saturday, I
was worried about a lot of things. Was I ready for what might
happen? What if it didn’t happen? Was I totally misreading her?
Wouldn’t be the first time….
I walked into the living room and lit a cigarette. I was a regular
but light smoker, who limited my intake to a couple in the morning
before work and a few in the evening and on weekends. I had smoked
on and off for years but once I was on my own I decided to stop
worrying about it and just enjoy the habit in moderation. Few of my
coworkers were aware of it as I didn’t smoke at work, but one of my
secret joys was watching the women in the building rush downstairs
to the large common area where smoking was permitted and light up
during their breaks. I had always been attracted to women smokers
for some reason I couldn’t explain, and watching them puff on their
long white cigarettes and inhaling the smoke deep into their lungs
was always a thrill, especially if the woman was attractive to me
as well in some other way. I was grateful that the rest of the
bulding had gone non-smoking since it concentrated all of the
female smokers in one place and I could enjoy watching all of the
different types that appealed to me: the young girls who had only
been smoking for a few years and for whom it was a statement of
supposed independence, even though they were probably already
addicted without realizing it; the older women who long ago
understood that they were dependent on smoking, who now were
hopelessly hooked and unable to give it up, and who had resigned
themselves to it regardless of the consequences; and the rarest of
the breed, the woman who realized that smoking could be a sexual
turn-on and who maintained a sense of style when smoking, choosing
to smoke certain brands of cigarettes that made them stand out from
the crowd, and turning the physical acts of puffing, inhaling and
exhaling into a performance for the aficionados like myself.
Anne had always sat in the nonsmoking section of the court along
with myself. I had to decide whether to reveal my smoking habit to
her and risk it being a turn-off for her, as it had been for a few
women in my past. As I finished my cigarette and disposed of the
remains, I decided that there was no sense in keeping it a secret
and that if it was too unappealing for her, then I would have to
make the decision about what to do about it myself. I placed my
pack and lighter in my jacket pocket and headed out to meet her.
I picked her up at her apartment and we drove to the restaurant,
talking about what we had done during the day and still maintaining
a level of communication that was totally free and comfortable. We
got to the restaurant early and headed to the bar for a drink while
waiting for a table. Our scotches arrived and I offered a toast:
“To new friends”, I said, to which she replied, “And to all they
can give”. I was taken aback… what did she mean? But her smile
and look left little doubt. This woman found me as attractive as I
found her! We each drank a sip as my heart jumped again in
anticipation of what seemed to be ahead, and the unbelievable
thought that I was falling in love for the first time in a decade.
By now I felt I needed a cigarette just to calm my nerves, and so
I reached into my pocket and withdrew the pack of Benson & Hedges
and my lighter. “Would you mind if I had one of these?”, I asked.
A look of surprise crossed her face and she said, “Do you smoke? I
had no idea.” I couldn’t tell if she was displeased or not. “If it
bothers you then that’s OK… it won’t bother me at all not to”, I
said. “Oh, no, don’t worry, go ahead… it doesn’t bother me at
all”. she replied. “Would you care for one?” I asked, but she made
a face and said “Ugh! Uh-oh, no, I don’t smoke. But you go ahead.”
I lit up nervously and smoked quickly, keeping it well away from
her and in truth not enjoying it because of my self-consciousness
about it. Soon we were moved into the restaurant and things quickly
got back on track. We talked and talked, and ate and drank, with
Anne having more than her share of two bottles of Italian red and
showing an amazing appetite for everything we ordered. “I haven’t
eaten all day”, she explained, and did justice to everything that
the waiter placed in front of her. As she finished the main course,
she exclaimed, “Oh, God, I feel like I’m going to burst! I ate way
too much”. “It’s easy to do when the food is this good”, I offered,
and she agreed, looking for some sort of excuse I suppose. We
ordered liquers and continued to chat, and the look in her eyes and
our constant holding of hands made me feel like a schoolboy again.
The waiter brought us a dessert menu at the same time as he
delivered the liquers. Anne now seemed to have found some space,
and suggested we each try something to share. I was not normally
much of a dessert person but agreed (I would have agreed with
anything she suggested at this point!) and two orders were placed.
Anne dove into her rich chocolate torte with gusto, while I had a
few bites of an almond concotion but found it too much to handle.
However, she seemed to enjoy it so I made a production of feeding
her forkfuls of mine while she continued to takes bites of her own.
We now ordered coffee and in truth Anne had consumed a prodigious
amount of food and drink and was feeling the effects. I was
surprised but also secretly pleased with her display of an
appetite, since so many women I had been with seemed to treat food
and drink as a necessary evil, not something to enjoy. “Would you
like to come back to my place for a drink?”, I suggested, and she
dreamily nodded “Mmm, sounds nice… shall we go?”. I escorted her
to the car and when we were ready to pull away, I turned to her and
reached for her hand. “That was lovely. I hope you enjoyed it as
much as I did.”, I said. “It was wonderful. Thank you so much.”,
she purred, with a smile that made me melt, and she reached for me
and gave me a long, deep kiss, our first. The sensations were
almost overwhelming: her lips, mouth and tongue, pressed into mine;
her hair, her scent. I still found it hard to believe this was
happening after all these years. Something HAD to go wrong, I
thought, as a result of years of conditioning. But this seemed
different somehow, and thoughts again filled my head of what was to
come.
I showed Anne into my apartment and made us drinks (another thing
I found that I loved about her; a woman who appreciated good
scotch!). We walked slowly through the apartment, holding hands, as
I explained some of the photographs I had taken that were on the
wall and some of the things I had collected over the years. She
seemed to show genuine interest and we eventually ended up on the
sofa. We continued to talk about each other’s pasts, and I fixed
each of us another drink when the stories started to get to the
hard parts. “I’m going to have a cigarette if you don’t mind”, I
said, and by now Anne was not quite drunk but certainly tipsy. “Let
me have one too”, she said, and I couldn’t believe my ears. “I
thought you said you didn’t smoke!”, I said, and she replied,
“Well, I don’t. I really don’t know how. No one in my family
smoked, and I’ve never even tasted one. But I think I’d like to try
it. Show me”, she said, with a shy smile.
I lit the cigarette and showed her how to hold it. I had her draw
a little on it and just take the puff into her mouth to let her get
accustomed to the taste, then blow it out. “I don’t suppose that
tastes very good, does it?”, I said, and she replied “Well, it’s
not quite what I expected. It doesn’t taste at all like it smells.”
She didn’t seem too put off by it, so I thought I’d try the next
step, as my penis began to swell between my legs at the sight of
this fantastic woman holding her first cigarette between her
fingers, with me instructing her.
“Try doing what you just did again, but this time when you hold the
smoke in your mouth, breathe in through your nose”, I suggested. I
remembered this was the way I had learned to inhale, and it seemed
easy enough. Anne did as I told her, but as she drew some of the
smoke into her windpipe and into her lungs for the first time, she
began to cough. “Well, that’s enough of that!”, she said
sheepishly, as she handed the cigarette back to me. I let out a
chuckle, and hugged her as we bagan to kiss. She responded with a
sense of urgency, and our hands began to explore each other’s
bodies as we became aroused. After a time I led her into the
bedroom and we continued where we left off. She reached for my fly
and opened it, then reached inside of my pants and pushed my
underwear aside, letting my erect penis emerge. She began to stroke
it while we continued to kiss passionately, which I took it as an
invitation to explore her further, and somehow managed to release
her skirt and begin to massage the mound between her legs. She let
out a throaty moan and I couldn’t believe what was going on as
instinct began to take over. We both began to quickly undress each
other and finally we were entwined on the bed in a twisted tangle
of arms and legs, making grunts and groans, skin slapping against
skin, stimulating each other into a frenzy, until she finally
positioned me above her and spread her legs wide, wrapping her
calves around my lower back and pleading with me to “please… fuck
me hard!”
I entered her tentatively at first, but I could not resist the instinct to
push deeper and deeper into her as every nerve in my back and neck began
to tingle. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as for the first time I
found myself actually making love to a woman, not just having sex. It was
a new and deep experience for me that I wanted to last forever, while at
the same time the pressure in my groin was pleading for release. Anne’s
vaginal muscles tightened and released, stimulating me even more, and her
face and chest began to flush with excitement, taking on a freckled hue
that I hadn’t seen in her before. Her nipples were now a reddish-brown and
seemed to have expanded to twice their size, and I couldn’t resist sucking
and nibbling on them, which caused Anne to groan with pleasure. She became
even more beautiful to me and as she began to moan and cry in a higher
pitch, I knew that she was about to come. Finally I felt her vaginal
muscles spasm and she let out a cry as she climaxed. That was too much for
me to resist and despite planning to withdraw before coming, instinct
caused me to plunge as deeply inside her as I could and pump a torrent of
semen into her, as her vagina purged every drop from my penis. I let out a
groan of my own and collaped onto her, still inside her and never wanting
to leave. We kissed and hugged, and began to giggle like teenagers, each
finding release and joy that was seemingly long forgotten.
After a while we each recovered and separately, went to the
washroom to clean up. I used my opportunity to grab a cigarette and
ashtray before returning to bed, and Anne watched me take a puff as
I laid back on the pillow next to her. “I hear it’s nice to smoke
after sex”, she said with a sly smile, and I held the cigarette to
her lips, offering her the chance for another puff. She opened her
mouth and drew hard on the cigarette, but appaarently mindful of
her earlier experience, simply blew the puff out before any was
breathed in. I took another puff, put the cigarette into the
ashtray and began to again kiss her all over. Soon she became
aroused again and I mounted her a second time, this time thrusting
into her much more deliberately and slowly. We again made love to
an incredible climax for both of us, and realized that this was a
night we would not soon forget.
The next morning we parted, still a little shaky from the
experience, and talked to each other throughout the day by phone.
We met again a few nights later, with the same results. By now we
both realized that perhaps, incredibly, we had found what each of
us had been seeking for so long. We began to date several times a
week, and since by now I had become totally accepting of her and
her of me, I naturally no longer worried about smoking around her.
One night in a lounge after a few drinks I had just lit a cigarette
when Anne reached over, covered my hand with hers, and took the
cigarette from between my fingers. I smiled in surprise and so did
she as she moved it towards her lips. She took a good-sized puff
and tried again to inhale as I had shown her on the first night.
Perhaps remembering her previous experience, this time she
succeeded in drawing some of the smoke into her lungs. A large
cloud of smoke escaped from her mouth, then a smaller, less dense
stream followed as she exhaled. “Very good”, I said with a smile,
as my penis began to again rise in salute, while she handed the
cigarette back. “That was different!”, she exclaimed, looking
thoughfully at the cloud of smoke over her head before taking a sip
of her drink. After a few hours, we returned to my apartment as we
now habitually did and made passionate love. During my after-sex
smoke I again offered it to Anne’s lips and she again took a puff
and repeated her performance of earlier in the evening, her chest
and breasts rising as she filled her lungs again with a mixture of
tobacco smoke and air. As she exhaled, the initial cloud of
uninhaled smoke was much smaller than it had been earlier, while
the subsequent exhaled stream was longer and more dense. She let
out a contented “Mmmmm ” sound as she exhaled the smoke, while I
could barely contain my urge to make love to her once again as my
penis recovered it’s temper in record time.
Soon she developed a ritual when we were together. When I lit a
cigarette, she would reach for it and take just a single puff. At
first she inhaled shallowly, but I noticed that within weeks she
was allowing herself longer and longer puffs and inhaling more and
more of the smoke. She would only have a single puff once in the
evening and again after we made love, no more. One night, she
surprised me by not inhaling as I had shown her, but rather simply
opening her mouth slightly after taking a puff and breathing it all
in, holding it in for only a second, then exhaling a stream through
her mouth. Again, she carried on this way for a while and I had
taken secret pleasure in observing that her inhales were becoming
deeper and the time she held it in longer, and that now when she
exhaled, some of the smoke was escapimg from her nostrils as well.
Finally one night the ritual was broken. She again reached for the
cigarette in my hand immediately after I had lit it, but this time
she didn’t return it after taking her puff. Instead she simply held
on to it for a few seconds, looking at it, before saying to me,
“Why don’t you light another one? I think I’d like to have this one
for myself.” My heart jumped in joy. I did as I was told as Anne
took another puff from the long, white cigarette and looked
absolutely wonderful doing so. I thought that this deserved some
encouragement and that this might be the time to let her know how
much it excited me. “You know, you look pretty good with a
cigarette in your hand. It seems to suit you.”, I offered. “Is that
so?”, she replied, looking somewhat puzzled. “Well, I think that
one of the most beautiful things in the world is a beautiful woman.
like you, enjoying a long cigarette. Don’t ask me why. I just find
it incredibly sexy.”, I said, with a bit of a tentative smile.
“Really? Hmmm… I might have to think about that a while!”, she
said with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze.
She continued to puff on the cigarette and I could tell that she
was beginning to feel the effects of the nicotine. Finally, she
took one last puff and extinguished it, blowing smoke through her
mouth and nose before saying, “Wooo… enough of that. That was
sort of nice. I think I can understand why people smoke now.” I
smiled and said, “Glad you liked it. Anytime you want one you know
where to find them.”
Anne chose not to smoke any further that evening and refused my
offer of a post-coital one of her own, instead again taking only a
single puff from mine. However, the next day she accepted my offer
of a cigarette before dinner without hesitation, and had a second
one thereafter. She continued in this pattern for some weeks,
becoming more and more comfortable with both the physical and
emotional sides of smoking, until one night came the climax.
We had met at her place for dinner. As I entered, the smells of the
various dishes she was preparing dominated her apartment, and I
pitched in to help her get everything ready. The meal was wonderful
and was made even more so for me by sharing it with the woman whom
I had grown to love more deeply than anyone ever before. Finally
she announced that the coffee was ready, and I went to fetch an
ashtray in anticipation of offering her a cigarette while she went
and poured the coffee for us.
She sat the tray carrying the coffee pot down on the table and
instead of sitting down immediately, turned and reached for her
purse. Opening it, she withdrew a pack of B&H Menthols, and a
lighter! She must have seen the surprise on my face, for she said
with a smile, “Well, you’ve gotten me hooked. Happy now?”
“Very much so”, I responded, in what I hope she interpreted as mock
sincerity (I was secretly overjoyed), as my excitement level began
to build again. “When did all this happen?”
She withdrew one of the long, white cigarettes from the pack, and
holding it to her lips, flicked the lighter to life and drew the
flame into the end. “This morning”, she said, blowing out uninhaled
smoke. “I was shopping for things for dinner and I saw the
cigarettes behind the counter. Something inside me told me that I
wanted some, so I picked up these menthols to try them. They’re not
bad.” She took a long puff and inhaled deeply before blowing it out
towards the ceiling.
Well, that’s nice,” I said, trying to conceal my excitement. Mind
if I join you?”
“By all means,” she replied with a smile, taking another puff, this time
in slow, luxurious style. She opened her mouth and I could see the puff of
dense white smoke disappear as she drew it deep into her lungs. The
combination of Anne’s super-sexy smoking style, and the knowledge that she
had begun to yield to the power of the habit, was becoming too much. I had
to force myself to keep control as I watched her smoke the cigarette all
the way down, inhaling each puff deeply and sensuously, apparently gaining
considerable pleasure from the experience.
My heart was pounding from excitement as we continued to chat and sip
coffee while holding hands, as had become our habit. As time passed, I was
trying to get Anne to smoke once again, and decided to try to give her a
cue. “Mind if I try one of those?”, I asked casually, gesturing towards
her pack.
“No, go right ahead,” she replied, as I picked up the greenish- silver
package. I shook a few loose and withdrew one for myself, then offhandedly
offered them to her. “Here, have one with me,” I said, deciding that the
direct approach was best. She reached for the cigarette without hesitation
and withdrew one herself. I quickly offered her a light and watched as she
leaned into the flame and drew on the cigarette, then blew out the first
puff without inhaling as she had seen me do. I followed suit and tasted
the cool menthol sensation on my tongue as I puffed. Menthols were not my
favorite but under the circumstances I did everything I could to make her
think I was enjoying it. In truth I could have been smoking anything and
liking it as long as I was able to watch this incredibly beautiful woman
smoke. Anne’s cheeks collapsed inward as she drew hard on the cigarette,
then she opened her mouth to give me a brief glimpse of the puff. She
would then slowly inhale it all the way down, as her chest and breasts
rose to make room, and hold it there for a few seconds before exhaling
slowly through both her mouth and nose, taking several breaths to totally
expel the smoke from her lungs.
I was rock-hard from just watching her and thinking about her becoming a
regular smoker. I was able to restrain myself for a while but as soon as
she had finished the second cigarette, I began to kiss her passionately
and soon we adjourned to the bedroom where we made love as fiercely as the
first night. By the time we were finished we were both nearly exhausted
and I lay next to her for a while, just enjoying the afterglow, too spent
to even move. She seemed to have more energy than I, however, for after a
while I felt her stir and get out of bed. A few minutes later she returned
carrying both our packs of cigarettes and an ashtray, climbed back into
bed, placed the ashtray on her belly, and lit up one of her menthols. I
reached for one of mine and she offered me a light. We lay there, side by
side, each enjoying our indulgence, while the smoke from the burning ends
of our cigarettes entwined slowly towards the ceiling in a sexual way of
its own.
Having cigarettes available to her all the time rapidly and inevitably led
Anne to smoke on a more or less regular basis. The first pack lasted her
four days, and she soon realized she needed a replacement. Within a few
weeks she had quickly progressed from her initial level of averaging 4 or
5 cigarettes a day to about 10 as her body became accustomed to the
effects of the nicotine, and Anne subconsciously found she needed to smoke
more often to satisfy her body’s cravings for the drug. She stabilized at
this half-pack a day level for almost a year, and I continued to enjoy
watching her settle into a smoking routine when we were together. She
admitted that she now particularly enjoyed her first 2 or 3 cigarettes of
the day with her morning coffee, and found herself almost panic-striken on
one occasion when she had let herself run out. She told me that she now
understood why I smoked myself, and that she was afraid that she was
becoming truly addicted. I reassured her and told her not to worry,
rationalizing it by telling her that starting to smoke at age 35 was late
enough in life that it probably wouldn’t ever catch up with her. Besides,
I told her, I liked the fact that she had chosen to smoke, that it looked
good on her, and that it made me desire her even more. This seemed to set
her mind at ease and she never raised the subject again. She accepted the
fact that she had become a smoker, and began to revel in the effect she
knew her smoking had on me. At this point, she also really started to
become physically dependent on smoking, and began to smoke at work and
regardless of whether or not we were together, but the best was still to
come.
After about a year of near-total bliss, we decided to go on a vacation
together and chose a beach resort where we would be able to do nothing
except enjoy each other on a continuous basis. Much to my surprise and
amazement (maybe to hers as well), and without any real prompting from me,
Anne began a transformation that was the greatest present she could
possibly give me. Probably due to the relaxed atmosphere, laying in the
shade of a palm tree on the beach, sipping tropical drinks and feeling the
warm breezes blow over her body, Anne let her defences down after a day or
two and began smoking more frequently, without inhibition. The more she
smoked, of course, the more I wanted to make love to her, and the more I
made love to her, the more she would smoke. (She told me later that she
had started doing it because she knew it would make me sexually excited,
but hadn’t counted on it becoming permanent). This phenomenon built upon
itself and as her body was already accustomed to a reasonably high
nicotine intake, doubling it in a two-week period was relatively easy for
her to do, and she in fact began to enjoy the nicotine’s effect on her
body once again. By the time we got home, the habit had taken total
control over her and Anne was a full-fledged member of the pack-a-day
club, while I needed to go buy some balm for my overworked sexual organs.
By this time there was no doubt in either of our minds that we were
totally committed to each other. Within a few days of our return, Anne
found she now needed to maintain her new higher level of smoking in order
to avoid the insistent cravings that she suffered when she initially
attempted to return to her previous level. To my great pleasure, Anne
quickly decided to make no further attempt to cut back, having soon
discovered that she was now enjoying her smoking more than ever before, and
was happy to maintain her smoking habit at slightly better than a pack a
day. By this time she had completely surrendered herself to her need to
smoke regularly (she now conceded that she was totally hooked) and didn’t
care what anyone but me thought about
it. Of course, it made me into a permanently horny lover, so Anne was
happy to cultivate her habit for she knew the power she had over me as a
result. Now I joined her in the smoking section each day though I
continued to abstain at work, since I found total satisfaction was mine
just by watching Anne satisfy her need to smoke and her craving for
nicotine. Watching her light up first thing in the morning on her way to
the bathroom, inhaling her first puff of the day while still half-asleep;
watching her smoke while driving, since she often had to leave the
cigarette in her lips to keep her hands free (she soon managed to find a
way to puff and inhale without using her hands, something that always put
me over the top); or taking her to a movie, knowing that about halfway
through she would start to get fidgety from withdrawal, anticipating her
urgent need to get outside as soon as it was over so that she could light
up; all of these things brought me great pleasure and added to my love for
her. I also found some sort of strange satisfaction from the fact that she
now totally identified herself as a smoker, listening to her telling the
host at a restaurant, for instance, that she wanted a table in the smoking
section, for she did it with such boldness and defiance that it always
stimulated me knowing this woman was mine. We gave each other total sexual
pleasure in bed (and anywhere else we could do it), enjoyed totally free
and open communication with each other, and were best friends. An
unbeatable combination!
After about another year, we decided to take the plunge, and found a place
big enough for all our things and moved in together. Anne continues to
bring me nothing but pleasure, and has further enhanced her smoking habit
by recently switching to B&H Deluxe Menthols, a lighter, slimmer brand.
Her motivation for doing this was her growing desire to smoke even more
frequently and as a result she has increased her intake to more than 30
cigarettes a day which means that I usually need only wait about 20
minutes for some sexual excitement, while she finds that with the level of
nicotine they provide she is able to both satisfy her cravings and keep
relatively good health. She is careful to exercise regularly to maintain
her lungs in condition in spite of her smoking, and has found that the
combination of the exercise and smoking gives her a very high metabolism,
which lets her enjoy all the foods she loves without gaining weight. The
only negative effect for her is a delicate morning cough that she has
developed, but I tell her that I find it endearing and well worth the joy
she brings me. She has recently begun to further addict me to her charms
by perfecting what she calls a “cannonball” puff (a series of multiple
puffs, one after the other without a break), and by on “special”
occasions, allowing me to make love to her as she smokes, my ultimate
fantasy come true! She is truly my dream woman come true and I could not
possibly ask for more… but I’m sure I’ll think of something!