Kelly heavy Smoker – Smoking Fetish Story

My daughter was only 6 when her mother was tragically
killed in a car accident, it hit us both hard but I think I
took it the worst. All the time I had been with Adele my
wife, Kellyís mother I had hidden my smoking fetish, I was
just a regular smoker to the outside world, I smoked less
than pack a day of Marlboro lights. That all changed though
when Adele died at first I used my cigarettes for comfort
and after a couple of months I was ìcomforting myselfî at
least 40 times a day, Iíd also switched to Marlboro Reds as
in my grief I saw no need to worry about my health, and I
began to let my fetish rear its head.

It was about 6 months after the death of Adele that Kelly first asked me if she could have a cigarette, she was now 7 years old and mature beyond her years due to the burden of looking after me for the months following her mothers death. Fetish or not though I wasnít going to let her smoke at such a young age. I sat her down and gave her the smoking lecture that all parents give their children at some time or other, finishing with when your old enough and if you still want to smoke then thatís your decision. Kelly seemed happy with this and left it at that.
I love my daughter very much and most nights we spent together watching TV, playing computer games together or just helping her with her homework. All the time though I would be smoking, I never really thought about the effects it would have on Kelly being constantly surrounded by my cigarette smoke when we were together, selfish I know but smoking to me is subconscious and most of the time I never realise that Iím doing it.
A year past and progressively my smoking got heavier, I was smoking 3 packs a day of Marlboro Reds and you could tell, the only person who never criticised my smoking was Kelly, she even defended me to family saying ìIf it makes daddy happy then why should you interfereî. She was my rock, I loved her mother completely and had no intentions of ever being with another woman.
We shoot forward now life is getting better for us as promotions at work, and well placed investments by me leave us living in considerable comfort, lucky really as my sixty a day habit is proving costly. Kelly now at senior school aged 12 arrives home one night with some homework she needs help with, now this has become increasingly less often as Kelly is an intelligent girl who seems to excel academically. But the homework is something Iím a bit of an expert on, smoking. We sit and talk over dinner about the bad affects of smoking for her project, and when we finish she turned to me and asked me if smoking was so bad why did I smoke. I bit the bullet on this one and was as honest as I could without mentioning my fetish about why I smoked. She seemed pleased with this and left for her bedroom to write up her notes.
At this point I thought the conversation had finished, later when we were sat together watching TV she turned to me as I was lighting yet another Marlboro.

ìHow old was you when you started smoking daddy?î Ah, the
question I didnít want to answer, but then again I never
lied to my daughter so I told her the truth. ìI was nine
honey, way to young, I was addicted before I could really
understand what I was doing to myself, I hid it from granny
and granddad for yearsî ìI know about smoking, I know what
it does to you but Iíd still like to try it, can I have a
cigarette?î she said, bold as brass. ìAh, uh urm, no honey
your not old enough yetî Iíd just contradicted myself and
wasnít happy, I didnít want her to thick it was ok for me
to start smoking at nine when I wouldnít let her smoke at
twelve, I wanted to be a fair father.

Thankfully she just shrugged her shoulders and let the matter drop, or so I thought.
It was about the time Kelly turned 13 when I started to notice my cigarettes disappearing more quickly than normal, at first I just put it down to me smoking more, until one night I arrived home from work slightly early and the house seemed to smell of fresh tobacco smoke. I decided to monitor my smoking then, for the next week I counted the cigs I smoked verses the packs in my cartons, I was still smoking around 60 a day yet my counts indicated I was smoking 70! There was no doubt Kelly had been taking my cigarettes. I should have been pissed at this but I wasnít, how could I be sheíd grown up in a home with a heavy smoker, she was probably slightly addicted to nicotine from all the second hand smoke anyway, deep in my heart of hearts I think I always new the day would come when she took up the habit, I just hoped she could of waited until she was older. In every other way she was the perfect daughter, good at school, never hanging around with the wrong crowd but from my own experience I new that in most cases the younger smokers were the wrong crowd and I didnít want her to get involved with them just so she could smoke with someone. Hell if she was going to smoke with someone at least it could be her own father, and in that way I could at least monitor how much she was smoking.
As normal I began to make dinner, Kelly emerged from her room and greeted me with the usual kiss and hug, we chatted as normal, and as was the routine on Fridays she collected the plates and washed up while I went into the lounge with a bottle of wine, this Friday would be different though as I took two glasses, one for Kelly as well.
After washing up Kelly went into her bedroom for about 15 minutes, excusing herself saying she needed to put her school uniform away. On returning to the lounge she sat next to me, she accepted the proffered glass of wine with a cheeky grin and I got a kiss on my cheek for my efforts. Now I know why sheíd been to her bedroom, all smokers enjoy a cig after a meal, you may say how come I never smelled the smoke on her, but believe me at 60 a day you smell very little!
Plucking up my courage I turned to her and spoke.

ìYou just canít beat a cig after dinner can youî I said
Bless her Kellyís face turned bright red her mouth opening
and shutting no words coming out. Lighting a fresh cig for
myself I passed her the pack and lighter, ìHoney its OK, I
should of known youíd start smoking one day being around me
all the time, I love you very much, you a clever girl and
youíve made a choice, just remember the consequences of
your decisionî She just mumbled thanks, and took the pack
in her hands shakily extracting a cig and lighting it,
obviously nervous about smoking in front of me for the
first time. All credit though she was one hell of a smoker,
her technique almost mimicked mine as she took a deep
double pump on the Marlboro making the end glow brightly,
smoke began to pour from her nostrils as it turned into a
triple pump.

Now Iím now fool and you donít smoke like that after only a few months, so I asked the question.

ìHow long have you been smoking honey? Itís OK you can tell
me, youíre obviously not an amateurî Now it was my turned
to be stunned as she replied, still red of face and
embarrassed. ìSince just after mommy died, Iím sorry, I
only smoked one or two a day for ages but over the last
year Iíve been smoking more, Iím sorry Iíve stolen your
cigarettes. Iíve tried to talk to you about it before but I
didnít know how, and you always said I wasnít old enough to
smokeî It dawned on me then, the hell she must of gone
through every night sitting with me as I chain smoked all
the time she would have been wanting/needing to smoke but I
never let her, I felt like Iíd let her down. ìIím so sorry
honey, it must have been hell for youî ìSometimes, but I
didnít want to upset youî she grinned though as she said
this, the nicotine relaxing her and working its magic on
her young body. I too started to laugh then and the tension
disappeared, instinctively I reached for my cigs as I put
out my last one and lit up, I think maybe it was because I
had a lot to think about or maybe I was just relieved but I
instinctively offered Kelly a cig from the pack as she was
extinguishing the last one thoughts of controlling her
consumption forgotten, twelve or not she accepted. I had a
lot to think about so while Kelly watched TV I sat and
smoked in a world of my own, I looked at my hand holding
its cig, and at the dark nicotine stain caused by the sixty
Marlboros I consumed everyday. I then looked at Kelly as
she sat smoking and watching TV, she was only twelve yet
smoked like me almost exactly, deep inhales, often double
pumps, her mannerisms mimicked mine, she smoked the
Marlboro right down to the cork, inhaling quadruple pumps
at the end to get the last bits of tobacco in the cig,
again exactly like me. We finished that cig at almost the
same time and as I reached for a fresh cig and lit up I
felt a pang of guilt as Kelly too chained into another,
taking my pack from the coffee table and extracting a fresh
cig.

By the end of the night I had chained through 2 packs of Marlboro Reds, and unbelievably Kelly had smoked with me cigarette for cigarette, putting the smoke from 40 Marlboroís into her own young lungs. As she kissed me good night I noticed that the 40 cigs she had smoked had left their mark on her fingers, faintly in the light of the lounge I could see nicotine stains forming on her fingers. I vowed as she went to bed that in the morning I would tackle her about her consumption, maybe limit her if possible, the only problem I saw was that tomorrow was Saturday, and it was my usual day for unadulterated smoking, I often hit 4 packs on Saturdays and Sundays because I wasnít at work. Then again if she enjoyed smoking half as much as I did how would I control her.
I awoke in the morning as normal coughing I ignored the coughing the as I reached onto my dresser for a much needed cig, still coughing around the cig now firmly placed between my lips I managed to get it lit and as usual in the morning set about getting my nicotine levels back to a level where I could face the day, my first cig was smoked voraciously as I sat up in bed cig dangling from my lips as I pumped at it, I was still coughing lightly but as usual I just kept on smoking, my body feeling terrible after the night spent asleep without nicotine. My second Marlboro was smoked at a more leisurely pace as I started to wake up. Donning my dressing gown I made my way to the kitchen for my morning coffee, as I passed Kellyís room I heard something disturbing. She was obviously awake as from behind her door I could hear her coughing, the previous nights smoking obviously playing havoc with her young lungs, but what disturbed me more was what I heard next as I quietly listened at her door. There was a faint click of a lighter a pause of about 30 seconds, and then an audible sigh followed by Kellyís voice as she spoke.

ìAh, thatís better, my lungs were aching for this, you
naughty cigarettes, I love you so muchî As I walked away
from the door I instinctively puffed on my Marlboro using
the nicotine to try to clear my thoughts, please I thought
donít say Kelly has a fetish for smoking like me, her
mother never did, OK she was a smoker but nothing more than
just you average every day smoker. She certainly never
loved her cigs and she seemed to constantly be trying to
quit. Me on the other hand is another matter, I love
everything about smoking, I love being a slave to my cigs,
I love the bad sides of it, my cough and the tightness in
my chest after a particularly heavy session and in the
mornings. And more worryingly to me I knew that if Kelly
did have the fetish there was no way I could get her to
quit never mind control her habit. It was then that I
decided to attack the situation head on when she came down
for breakfast. I was on my second coffee and sixth Marlboro
by the time Kelly entered the kitchen, she was still
wearing her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas and the fact that she
had a Marlboro dangling from her mouth really looked out of
place. Still dangling the cig from her lips she poured
herself a coffee and sat down at the table facing me,
finally extracting the cig from her lips to tap of some of
the ash. ìMorning daddyî she said, each word punctuated
with clouds of smoke from her young lips. ìHoney you smoked
quit a lot last night, I donít think you should smoke so
many cigarettes, Christ your only 12 you shouldnít really
be smoking at allî I said as I crushed out my spent
Marlboro and instinctively reached for the pack lying on
the table. When I realised I had been reaching for another
cig I drew my hand back and resisted, how could I be such a
hypocrite telling her not to smoke so much when I was chain
smoking, I was only 34 and I smoked way to much, what gave
me the right to tell her what to do. ìDaddy, I just love to
smoke and how can you tell me not to smoke, you smoke all
the time, you love it I know you do, do you want to stop me
from enjoying something so nice, the taste of the smoke is
so yummy, and the feeling I get inside me when I smoke is
wonderful, this morning when I woke my chest felt really
tight and I couldnít stop coughing but I love that feeling
to, and my first cig this morning was out of this world, I
want to smoke as often as I canî as she said those words to
me I twitched nervously, only minutes had passed since my
last cig but I wanted one badly, I just sat and watched my
young daughter her hand cocked at the side of her head
while she spoke the smoke from her burning cig curling
leisurely towards the ceiling. I glanced then at the
ceiling as I sat quietly pondering what to say my eyes
following the curling smoke upwards, that ceiling used to
be white was the only thought in my head, but due to my
smoking it has been stained a dark yellow. If thatís what
Iíve done to the ceiling what had I done to Kelly? Kelly
was staring at me waiting for me to reply, she took a final
double pump of her cig and put it out in the ashtray,
reaching for her coffee she took a sip, tiny tendrils of
smoke exiting her young lips and nostril with every breath
as she blew on the coffee to cool it. Moments past as I
searched my mind for answers, finally my thoughts were
broken as the click of my lighter signified that Kelly had
decided it was time for another cig, I desperately wanted
one now and my skin was beginning to crawl as I watched
Kelly smoke nervously as she watched me waiting for me to
speak. ìDaddy please say something, donít hate me for
smoking, I love you so much, but I just love theseî she
said as she raised the Marlboro to her lips and took a hit
of nicotine that I craved so badly. I started to cry then
as I reached for the open pack and extracted a fresh cig,
lighting it through the tears. ìIím so sorry, what have I
done to you, I love you so much, I never wanted this for
youî As I sat there she came around to my side of the table
and put her arms around me the burning cig still in her
hand smouldered near my left ear. ìDaddy you havenít done
anything to me, its my choice just as it was yours, if I
didnít like it so much I wouldnít do it, its something we
can share together, last night was wonderful, Iíve longed
to sit with you at night when we watch TV and smoke
together, Iíve wanted to talk to you for so long about how
smoking makes me feel, and youíre the only person I know
who would understand, because youíre the only person I know
who feels this way about smoking toî she moved away from me
then brushed the tears from my eyes and sat back on her
chair. Something inside me changed that day; I stopped
seeing my daughter as a little girl, but as a woman. Her
maturity was way beyond her 12 years. Our relationship also
changed that day as I began to treat her as an equal, an
adult and also as someone for the first time in my life who
understood the joy I got from smoking. Over the next few
years Kellyís habit developed to one similar to mine, she
was always good though and to her credit did endure school
and other times when she couldnít smoke, although as soon
as she returned home she would smoke up a storm with me all
night. I guess until she was 16 and still at school she was
smoking around 2 packs of Marlboros a day, 3 on Saturdays
and Sundays, she did well at school and her grades were all
ways good, well apart from sports anyway, she just wasnít
interested in physical activity! So when she graduated she
did so with exceptional grades. I managed to get her a job
at my office which suited her down to the ground as she
always had a ride to work with me and her dad was the boss
so cig breaks werenít an issue, this brings us up to date
now, Kelly is now 18 and has now matched my smoking, sheís
a 60 a day girl just like her old dad, and we often hit the
80 mark on weekends. We both cough our lungs up in the
morning its not an unusual sight to see her entering the
kitchen of a morning Marlboro dangling from her lips as she
coughs around it while rubbing her chest to ease the
aching, the house is constantly filled with smoke when we
are around and we have matching nicotine stains on our
fingers to boot. My life in short has never been better, we
sit and talk for hours she understands completely why I
smoke itís a bond we share and no one could ever take away
from us, sheís had boyfriends Iíll admit but she always
comes back to her old dad. ìThey just donít understand why
I smokeî Iíve heard her say that a thousand times, to be
honest she like me must reek of smoke to other people, her
teeth are stained from the smoking as to are her fingers,
but Iím sure one day sheíll met that special man who can
appreciate her for what she really is a slave to nicotine.