Gretchen: Chain-Smoking Goddess – Smoking Fetish Story

It was 2:29 and my English Lit class was about to begin. Just before the clock strikes 2:30, in walks Gretchen Paulson. Wearing sunglasses, a skimpy white T- shirt, and a pair of cutoff jeans (her staple outfit), Gretchen struts into the room, fully aware that every male eye in the room is focused on her beautiful body. There’s an open seat to the right of me, and I pray she’ll sit next to me. I try not to stare at her for more than an instant, but she flashes me a friendly smile and I smile back. She eyes the desk next to mine and approaches. The smell of smoke becomes stronger with each step she takes until she sits down within only a couple feet of me. My heartbeat picks up and the smoky aura surrounding Gretchen spreads my way, and I savour every breath. Through the corner of my right eye, I watch Gretchen twirl her gorgeous natural blond hair between her fingers and cross her smooth, tan legs. As class starts, I have to try hard to focus on the lecture and not focus on the beauty sitting next to me.
The lecture continues and, at about 2:50, I notice Gretchen becoming very fidgety beside me. She begins to restlessly tap her pencil and constantly look up to the clock. After a few moments, she gets up and steps out of the room as she does nearly every day halfway through class. I wait patiently for about seven minutes before Gretchen quietly slips back into the classroom, smelling of fresh smoke and arousing my sense of smell once again. I sit through the rest of lecture with Gretchen’s comfortable presence only a couple feet away. Finally, the professor hands out a list of pairs he’s arranged to work on a group project together. I couldn’t believe as I see my name next to Gretchen’s on the list. It’s difficult for me to contain my joy as I look at Gretchen.
“Looks like we’re partners.” I offer casually.
Gretchen grins and speaks to me in her husky, yet feminine voice. “Do you want to get together and start on it tonight?”
“Sure. How about the library tonight at 7:30?”
“That’ll work. See you then.” Gretchen smiles again, before racing for the door as she did every day at the end of class. I follow her out the door to watch her perform her daily routine that turned me on so completely. She lets a Marlboro 100 dangle from her lips as she approaches the exit door. The second she steps outside, she flicks her lighter and ignites her cigarette. A cloud of smoke soon surrounds Gretchen as she inhales deeply and frequently on her fresh cigarette, obviously getting maximum enjoyment from the addictive nicotine in her lungs. I can never recall seeing Gretchen outside of the classroom not smoking one of her Marlboro 100’s. She walks down the sidewalk towards her dorm building as I watch casually before turning the opposite direction. I can’t take my eyes off of her sexy strut and her incredible body, and am able to see one more monstrous exhale that floats several feet in front of Gretchen. Unfortunately, I have to turn away and go to my next class, but our paths were destined to cross again. I couldn’t wait for 7:30 to come.
I arrive at the library ten minutes early in anticipation, waiting for Gretchen to arrive. I watch the library entryway, and at 7:32, I see Gretchen’s unmistakable body approach the glass library doors. She takes a final drag off her cigarette before squashing it in the ashtray by the door. She enters the library and smiles as she sees me waiting for her. I smile back and, as always, am instantly aroused by the strong smell of smoke on her, engulfing my nose as she sits next to me. We properly introduce each other and engage in a couple of minutes of friendly small talk before getting started on our project, checking the library computer for relevant sources. About five minutes go by as we write down Dewey decimal numbers for the books we’re gonna look for. I notice Gretchen becoming restless and fidgety again, but try to ignore it. In less than a minute, she can’t take it anymore.
“If it’s okay, I’m gonna go out for a smoke.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Most of these books are downstairs. I’ll meet you down there.”
Gretchen nods agreeably and I watch her walk away out of the corner of my eye. In seconds, she’s outside and lighting another Marlboro 100. I head to the library basement and begin to search for the books, finding them and looking them over with a half a mind, unable to get Gretchen’s smoking too far from my conscious. Within a few minutes, Gretchen locates me and, as always, she smells of fresh cigarette smoke.

“Finding anything?” she asks.
“Yeah, I got these three here that look like they’ll work. Why don’t you check these over here.”
Gretchen crouches down and begins to look at the books on the shelf. Her perfect legs are positioned only inches from my left hand as I pretend to focus on the books. Within about ten minutes, we find the five books we need for sources and I notice Gretchen becoming anxious again, craving another dose of nicotine. As we get up to leave, she smiles mischievously at me.
“You’re gonna think I’m a total slacker, but I need another cigarette.”
I smile. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go upstairs and check these out, and then we can go and do our project in one of our dorm rooms where you can smoke.”
Gretchen smiles back invitingly. “Sounds great. Thanks for understanding.”
Gretchen walks ahead of me, allowing me to have a close-up view of her sexually- charged walk from behind, and I focused on her firm ass. My heart begins to pound as we go back upstairs. I head to the checkout desk while Gretchen goes outside and lights up another cigarette. In a couple of moments, I exit the library to find Gretchen standing there, smoking her cigarette.
“Could we go to my room?” she asks.
“Sure, whatever.” I respond, hiding my enthusiasm at the thought of being in Gretchen’s room. This entire evening had been magical thus far, and the night was still young. As we walk back to her room, we engage in more small talk about our current class schedules, a conversation I’m only half listening to. I’m much more interested in watching Gretchen’s sexy, experienced smoking style from close-up, breathing the second-hand smoke that had been in her lungs only seconds ago. We continue to chat until we arrive at her dorm building. She extinguishes her cigarette in an overfull ashtray outside of the building before entering. I follow her as she ascends two flights of stairs to get to her floor. I notice her breathing becoming more laboured with every step she takes until she is wheezing loudly at the top. She quickly pulls out her pack of Marlboro 100’s and inserts a fresh one in her mouth after leaving the stairwell, still breathing laboriously. She lets the unlit cigarette dangle between her lips as she walks down her dorm hallway. She unlocks her door and enters the room. I follow her in and

she wastes no time lighting her cigarette. I close the door and she turns to me while exhaling beautiful streams of smoke out of both nostrils.
“My roommate works tonight, so we shouldn’t be disturbed.”
“Okay,” I say nodding, almost knocked over by the smell of burnt tobacco that overwhelms the room. I notice three ashtrays in the room, all either full or close to full. I see a pack of Marlboro Lights on the desk of Gretchen’s roommate as well as another ashtray full of white butts, and I determine that the roommate is a smoker as well. Gretchen sits down on her bed and spreads the books out in front of her.
“Have a seat.” she mumbles with a cigarette between her lips, pointing for me to sit on the other side of the books on her bed. My already pounding heart was intensifying further. I was gonna get the chance to sit on Gretchen’s bed and watch her smoke for half the night.
We made some progress on the project in the next hour and a half and both of us contributed equally, but I was frequently distracted by Gretchen’s never-ending smoking habit. She had smoked ten cigarettes in the hour and a half, one after another with dizzying repetition. Usually, she would light a fresh cigarette with the butt of the one she was currently smoking. The other times, she would crush her cigarette in the ashtray on the floor, reach for her pack, pull out another Marlboro 100, and light it up within ten seconds after pulling out the last. Half of the time, she let the cigarette dangle between her lips, puffing down on the cigarette without removing it from her mouth. The rest of the time, she would hold her cigarette sexily between her fingers in the most feminine way. Smoke emitted from her mouth and nose with every breath she took, even between drags on her cigarette. She was a human chimney. Smoke filled the room and began to irritate my eyes. I remained silent and was surprised that Gretchen didn’t inquire if her smoking was bothering me.
After finishing another cigarette, Gretchen tosses the empty Marlboro 100 pack into her trash can, which was almost exclusively filled with empty packs of cigarettes, cigarette butts, and tobacco ash. She then walks over to her desk and pulls out a fairly large cigar wrapped in cellophane. She unwraps the cellophane and inserts the inexpensive cigar into her mouth. I can’t help but stare as Gretchen holds her lighter up to the cigar for several moments. She then sits back on the bed with the lit cigar between her lips as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She inhales a drag on the cigar that is as deep as her usual cigarette

inhale. I stare at her uncontrollably as a stream of thick, rich cigar smoke pours out of her mouth and nose towards me. She then smiles at me as I try to pretend that I wasn’t watching her.
“You’re staring at me.” she says flirtatiously.
“Oh…uh…yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. You’re very good looking.” I say while blushing.
“Thanks,” she says, exhaling more cigar smoke. “Are you uncomfortable with a girl smoking a cigar?”
I laugh with further embarrassment.
“I don’t think uncomfortable is the word–more like turned-on. I like to watch beautiful girls smoke. I hope you don’t think I’m weird.”
Gretchen laughs and inhales another chest-heaving drag off the cigar, her large breasts rising upwards and lifting her T-shirt with it, revealing more of her perfectly flat stomach.
“Not at all, Mark. I’ve went out with many guys who are turned on by my smoking. I think most guys are into it at least a little, but you’re one of the first I’ve heard admit it. It really works out for me because I love smoking. I’m totally addicted and have no intention of ever quitting. I don’t care if I die a slow painful death when I’m 80. I love it.”
“Yeah, I can tell you love it.”
She laughs again, drawing heavily on the cigar.
“I started at age twelve and fell in love with it immediately. smoke per day?”
Guess how much I
“How much?”
“I average four-and-a-half packs a day since I started college this fall.” My jaw drops in amazement and Gretchen laughs proudly.

“That can’t be cheap.”
“No, it isn’t. Luckily, my parents are loaded. Well, I won’t get into my boring life story.”
“No, actually I’d love to hear it—especially the smoking part. We can do this homework stuff some other time.”
Gretchen laughs as she inhales another large drag off of her cigar and the cloud of cigar smoke encircles her face.
“If you insist. As I said, I started smoking at age twelve because I was tired of being the good girl from the good family. My dad owns a company in Minneapolis, so the money gave me a reputation that I wanted to shake up a bit. Both of my parents are non-smokers and when they found out that I had started, they threw a fit–completely forbidding me to ever smoke again. But it took them a year to find out, and by then, I was already hooked and was not gonna quit. I told them I wanted them to pay for my cigarettes, and if they didn’t, I’d just steal them.”
I smile as Gretchen pauses to take back-to-back drags on her cigar.
“Anyway, I started to rip off cigarettes and got caught twice. My parents first tried to punish me, but could tell that they weren’t gonna get me to quit. Finally, they decided to pay for my smokes. Once that happened, I started to smoke all the time. I was up to a pack a day by the eighth grade. All through my junior high and high school years, I ran outside between every class for a quick smoke. Of course, I still do that in the middle of classes here at college as you’ve probably noticed. Now, though, I light up two cigarettes, one in each hand, and relentlessly suck down both of them before rejoining class.”
I nod as Gretchen puffs on the cigar and then continues.
“Anyway, I was up to two-and-a-half packs a day by my senior year, but I still wanted to smoke more. When I was 16, I tried cigars and loved them as well. I smoke one or two cigars a day, much to my parents disapproval. They make me buy my own cigars, so all I can afford are these cheap Grenadier Churchills. Also, I don’t know what you’ll think of this, but I used to chew while in high school classes to get my nicotine fix between cigarettes. Not very lady-like, so I quit after high school and just smoke more now.”

I continue to smile, feeling my already throbbing organ get stiffer and stiffer as Gretchen draws heavily on her cigar.
“So how much does all this set your parents back?” I ask.
“They said they spent close to $3,000 last year on my smoking. I go through more than three cartons a week. Plus, I got both of younger sisters addicted to smoking as well. They’re both in high school now and each smokes two packs a day,” she answers, her face gleaming with pride. “But my parents can afford it. This summer, my dad begged me to take an office job at his company, but I told him the only way I’d do it was if he lifted the no-smoking ban at the office. After some arm twisting, he agreed. The job itself was no big deal, but most of the women were non-smokers, so they resented me for chain-smoking and for getting special favours. It made me feel awkward. Their defiance only made me smoke more, though. I was sucking down four packs a day by the end of the summer. And then, of course, once I got to college, I had no smoking restrictions except in the classroom and nobody nagging on me—well, with the exception of my roommate. She’s a pretty heavy smoker, too—about a pack-and-a-half a day, but she still bitches at me every once in a while for smoking too much, and she doesn’t like my cigar smoking.”
“Do you get along otherwise?”
Gretchen nods affirmatively while taking a drag on her two-thirds smoked cigar. “We get along okay, but we’ve had a couple of problems regarding my men.” “Your men?” I inquire, fully aware of Gretchen’s promiscuous reputation.
She blushes as she drags on the cigar again.
“I’m sure you’ve heard some stories about me, right? About what a slut I am. Well, when I came to college, I wanted to get in on all the lovin’ I could. I use protection and birth control and everything, so that’s not a problem, but I’m bored with the Mr. Friday and Saturday nights. I’m looking for something a little more permanent now.” she says, eyeing me with the most welcoming look she’s given me yet.
“Do you have anybody in particular in mind?” I ask, playing along.

Gretchen sticks what’s left of her cigar in her mouth and takes both of my hands.
“I get the feeling that you’re the someone special I’ve been looking for. What do you think?” she asks with the cigar clutched between her teeth, a cloud of cigar smoke surrounding her beautiful face.
She proceeds to place my hands on her legs, the same legs I’ve admired since the first time I set my eyes on them.
“I think I’m glad Professor Schultz partnered us up for this project.” I respond.
Gretchen laughs as I work my hands up her thighs as she breathes hard, inhaling and exhaling cigar smoke with each breath. I rest my hands over her crotch and begin to unbutton her cutoffs. She responds by lifting all of the books off of her bed, and then extinguishing her cigar butt in the ashtray. Gretchen kneels up as I pull off her shorts, revealing her sculpted lower body with only a pair of black panties covering it. She pulls my shirt off and then goes for my jeans. I rip her T- shirt off and begin to work at her bra. She then stops me for a second.
“One more thing.” she says, climbing out of bed to retrieve a fresh pack of Marlboro 100’s.
Gretchen quickly opens the pack and then extracts two cigarettes, getting ready to light them simultaneously.
“Wait a second,” I interrupt. “Can I have one cigar-breath kiss first?”
Gretchen smiles and then leaps on top of me, passionately kissing me and inserting her cigar-flavoured tongue into my mouth for several moments. The initial unpleasantness of her breath soon gives way to the most sensual tasting kiss I have ever experienced. Her hair and skin have the same aroma of the ashtray on the floor, and nothing could have turned me on more. I unstrap her bra as her kiss comes to an end. She sits up over me, and her bra falls onto me, revealing her large, beautiful breasts. She proceeds to light the two Marlboros before pulling off her panties.
“What about your roommate?” I inquire.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s not done working for over an hour.”

“I hope that gives us enough time.” I say with a cocky, but sarcastic tone.
“Grrrrrrr.” Gretchen replies passionately.
We proceed to have wild, passionate sex, the best I’ve ever had. I can’t speak for her, especially since she was far more experienced than me, but she sure seemed to enjoy it. When we finish, we lie there, our hot, naked bodies pressed together. I listen to her very laboured breathing as she rests her head on my chest. She leans up and grabs her pack of cigarettes, lighting one and laying her head back on my chest. She continues to wheeze long after my lungs recover from the physical exertion. Gretchen breathes with the cigarette, inhaling and exhaling smoke with every breath until the cigarette is more than half smoked. I like to watch the smoke cloud rising from my chest.
“Your turn for storytelling.” Gretchen tells me, finally breaking the silence.
I proceed to tell Gretchen much of my life story as we lie there. She listens quietly, asking only a few questions for the next half hour. She chain smokes five cigarettes as we lie in her bed. Finally, as my storytelling comes to a close, Gretchen announces that we’d better get dressed before her roommate gets back. As we dress, I admire her naked body for the final time that evening. Once dressed, we continue to converse about our personal lives for awhile, until the door is opened.
In steps an attractive brunette who seems startled to see me in her room. She gives both me and Gretchen a disapproving look, believing that I was another of Gretchen’s infamous one-night stands.
“Tammy, this is Mark. We’re working on a project together for English Lit class.”
As we exchange greetings, Tammy walks over to her pack of Marlboro Lights. She pulls one out of the pack and lights up. As I watch Tammy take a much-needed, long drag off of her cigarette, Gretchen breaks the silence.
“Mark actually admits that he likes to watch girls smoke.”
My face grows red and I look to the floor as Tammy smiles at me, exhaling a long stream of cigarette smoke.
“Why don’t you tell the whole world while you’re at.” I say, looking at Gretchen.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive about it.” I shake my head with an embarrassed smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” I answer. “Well, I’d better get going, and we should meet again tomorrow night to finish this up, all right?”
“Yeah, Tammy’s gonna be here tomorrow night, so is it all right if we meet in your room?”
“Sure, I have a single room, so that should work out fine.” “Sounds good,” Gretchen replies flirtatiously. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I answer, leaving the room, but not before seeing both Gretchen and Tammy each exhale another monstrous cloud of cigarette smoke.
The smile on my face never fades as I walk back to my dorm room, smelling as smoky as Gretchen. This had been the best night of my life, and with any luck, it was only the beginning.
Indeed, it had been just the beginning. Gretchen and I became an item and stayed that way for over a year now. We got to know everything about one another, and every single time we were together, Gretchen smoked her Marlboro 100’s non- stop. Since I had my single dorm room, Gretchen would come by several nights a week. We would have sex and she would often sleep over. As much as I loved being around Gretchen, sleeping with her proved to be difficult. She always makes gasping noises in her sleep, her smoked-out lungs struggling to maintain a normal breathing rate. Being a light sleeper, her heavy breathing would keep me awake half the night. Plus, she would wake up frequently in the middle of the night, and cough her sexy smokers’ cough so loudly that everybody on my floor probably woke up. She would instantly light a cigarette seconds after waking up at any time in the night, her nicotine-dependent body desperately craving more. I finally had to explain my dilemma and ask her to sleep over less frequently. Luckily, she said she understood and said her roommate always complained about her noisy sleeping as well.
Gretchen and I would often travel together on the weekends, visiting each others families and such. Gretchen’s parents were far more uptight and conservative

than she was, but they liked me since I was the one to settle her wild ways down in their eyes. Gretchen’s sisters were just like her, sweet and incredibly gorgeous. They were also heavy smokers and were thankful to Gretchen for getting them started when they only 12 and 10 years old. My parents were very concerned about Gretchen’s intense smoking addiction, but otherwise liked her warm personality. Indeed, her personality was consistently friendly and sweet, except when it came to her smoking. Gretchen was a militant pro-smoking fanatic who would fight relentlessly for her rights and the rights of other smokers. She showed utter disdain for anybody who disapproved of her smoking. She was sometimes embarrassing to be with, lighting up a cigarette in places where she knew smoking wasn’t permitted, and when told she couldn’t smoke, she would get in their face and chew them out until she had to be physically removed. She would write letters to politicians and columnists, bashing them for advocating restrictions on smoking. She always said that the never-ending assault on smokers’ rights could make life very difficult for her when she needs to go out in the job market. The number of workplaces that allow smoking is constantly dwindling, and she knew she could not work in a place where smoking wasn’t permitted. She also couldn’t care less if anybody was bothered by the sea of smoke surrounding her, including me. I never actually said anything to Gretchen when her second-hand smoke was really becoming annoying, but she could tell it, and she simply didn’t care. Although this was occasionally annoying to me, her militancy was also respectable and a major turn-on for me.
As she said, Gretchen puffed down at least one Grenadier Churchill every day, sometimes two. Occasionally, she would splurge for a large, expensive cigar. Watching her smoke one of those was incredibly sexy. On some weekend days, when Gretchen’s cigar supply ran out and when she didn’t have any classes where she couldn’t smoke, she could smoke down six packs of cigarettes in a day. She was truly amazing. Every aspect of her life revolved around smoking. She would always ask me to fill up the gas tank when I rode in her car so that she could stay in the car and smoke. I also had to buy her groceries and clothes because she couldn’t be away from her cigarettes long enough to shop and remember all the things she needed. I felt her errand boy at times, buying her a new carton of Marlboro 100’s every two days with the money her folks gave her. But I definitely didn’t complain too loudly. In the event that Gretchen was separated from smoking for a half hour or more, she would breathe almost an entire cigarette down, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with her every breath. Other times, she would light up two cigarettes, holding one in each hand, and alternating between them at a rapid pace.

When college ended that year, we had to separate for the summer, but still met up on weekends. Meeting Gretchen on the beach and watching her smoke in her pink bikini made the long commute to visit her well worth it.
The two of us can tell we have something special, and I can’t help but feel that we saved each other. She was promiscuous and unhappy. I was lonely and unhappy. Our unification solved both problems. Although her smoking was a superficial way for us to begin, neither of us can argue with results.

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