Sarah lit a fresh cigarette and, with a heavy wheeze,
inhaled deeply into her filthy, ruined lungs. The smoke
felt so good in her lungs. It made all the coughing and
wheezing and shortness of breath worthwhile. She felt the
wonderful toxins from her cigarette smoke soaking into her
badly stained lung tissue as she inhaled deeply again.
Sarah looked forward to the days ahead, as the debilitating
effects of her constant smoking would soon inhibit her
ability to walk, to talk, and even to breathe. She longed
for the day her lungs would finally give up in their
lifelong battle against Sarah and her cigarettes.
Sarah was still a little befuddled by Dr. Richards’ request
for her lungs. “What the hell are you going to do with my
lungs, Doc, besides jack off while looking at them?” she
asked.
“Ahh, you know me too well, Sarah,” said the doctor.
“Naturally, they will be used for that purpose. Quite
extensively, I might add.” He was grinning from ear to ear.
“But, they are part of a grander scheme,” he said. “Come
with me, Sarah. I am going to show you something I have
never shown anyone before.”
Dr. Richards took out his keys and unlocked a door leading
from his office. Sarah had never been in the room, but had
always assumed it was a supply room or another examining
room. Dr. Richards flipped on the light switch and led
Sarah into the room. He said, “Welcome to my trophy room,
Sarah.”
As Sarah looked around the room, her eyes widened in
amazement. The room was no more than eight feet by eight
feet, but covering the walls, mounted, like big game heads,
were pairs of lungs, actual human lungs. Each lung had been
preserved and split open to reveal the erotic inner walls
of the lung. Some were shriveled and deformed. Most were
mottled and badly discolored in various shades of brown and
black. Some had grotesque lumps and growths of different
sizes and shapes. All were, obviously, smokers’ lungs.
Under each pair of lungs was a small plaque. Sarah started
reading the plaques. “Betty Grable, born 1916, died 1973,
lung cancer. Anne Shirley, born 1918, died 1993, lung
cancer. Lee Remick, born 1935, died 1991, lung cancer.” The
list went on and on. Sarah felt herself becoming aroused as
she walked around the room. “Are these for real, Dr.
Richards?” she asked.
“Absolutely. It pays to have friends, Sarah,” said the
doctor. “I am very good friends with the nearby Hollywood
coroner, as well as with many coroners around the country.
Whenever I hear of a woman who dies of lung cancer, or
another smoking related illness, I immediately write the
local coroner and ask for the victim’s lungs. I point out
that the lungs will be invaluable in research to find a
cure for lung cancer. That’s usually enough to do the
trick. Sometimes I get turned down, but most of the time,
sometimes with the help of a small bribe, I am able to
acquire my prize. Often I even get the family’s permission.
They are only too glad to see their dearly departed’s lungs
used in cancer research. Sometimes the coroner will sell me
the lungs without the family’s knowledge. It’s easy for the
coroner to get away with it, because the family never
realizes the lungs are missing. I’ve been collecting lungs
for over thirty years, now.”
“This is amazing,” said Sarah as she took a long drag from
her cigarette. “I recognize most of these names. Did all of
these lungs belong to movie stars?”
“Naturally, I tend to concentrate on celebrities,” said the
doctor. “But, many of these lungs belonged to local women,
patients of mine. Most of them were lung cancer victims,
but some of these women died of emphysema, throat cancer,
or other smoking related illnesses. Look, here are the
lungs of Jeanne Tierney, a beautiful actress. She died of
emphysema in 1991. Look at the walls of her lungs. See how
puffy and enlarged the cells look. Your lungs look nearly
this bad already, Sarah.”
Sarah started rubbing her moist pussy as she double-pumped
her Marlboro 100. “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl,
Doc,” she said.
“There are many more fine specimens, Sarah,” Dr. Richards
continued. “Here are the lungs of Judy Holliday, one of my
earliest acquisitions. She died of throat cancer at 43, but
look at the thick, black coating in her lungs. Lung cancer
would have been almost certain if her throat had not given
out first. And, over here, are the lungs of Colleen
Dewhurst and Susan Hayward, both lung cancer victims. Look
at the large tumors in Ms. Hayward’s lungs. Go ahead, touch
them with your fingers. Her cancer started in her lungs and
spread to her brain. She lived for three years with cancer
in her lungs. It was a brain tumor that actually killed
her. Once again, your lungs look nearly as bad as and, in
some cases, worse than, the lungs on my wall.”
“Oh, this is too much, Doc,” said Sarah, feeling a cramping
sensation in her stomach as she inhaled smoke deep into her
filthy, twenty-two year-old lungs.
“Here are the lungs of Susan Oliver, one of the most
beautiful smokers of all time, in my opinion. She died of
lung cancer, at the age of 53, in 1990. She loved her
cigarettes, as did all these beautiful women.” Dr. Richards
continued around the room, pointing out the lungs of many
women Sarah had watched smoking on television.
“My father has video clips of most of these women smoking.
We often watch them together,” said Sarah. “I’ve often
dreamed of smoking in the movies, so my smoking could be
immortalized. I love to think of guys jacking off while
watching me smoke.” Sarah finished the remainder of her
cigarette with an exceptionally deep triple-pump and
reached for a fresh one.
“You may get your wish, Sarah,” said the doctor. “I have a
surprise I will tell you about later. But, I want to show
you more. Here are the lungs of Jill Ireland, Audrey
Meadows, and Carolyn Jones, all lung cancer victims. And,
over here, are the lungs of Sarah Vaughan and Mary Wells,
two singers with sexy, smoky voices. Ms. Vaughan died of
lung cancer and Ms. Wells died of larynx cancer, at the
tender age of 49, after smoking three packs a day for most
of her life.” Dr. Richards started singing, “Nothing you
could say…could tear her away…from her cigarettes.”
Sarah lit a fresh cigarette and continued to massage her
pussy. She was now extremely aroused.
“Here is one of my newest additions,” said Dr. Richards.
“These are the lungs of Joanna Moore, a very beautiful
actress who exuded smoky, sultry sexiness on the screen.
She had the perfect look and voice of a smoker. She died of
lung cancer just over a year ago.”
“I envy her so much,” said Sarah, dragging deeply on her
freshly lit cigarette.
“Here is my prized possession…so far,” said the doctor,
pointing to a beautiful set of deeply stained lungs on the
main wall. These are the lungs of Lana Turner, one of the
sexiest actresses of all time. I paid a hefty sum to get
these babies. She died of throat cancer in 1995, but look
how beautiful her lungs are. As you can see, there is a
thick, even layer of tar coating her lungs. What a
beautiful shade of deep, dark brown. As you can guess,
Sarah, I spend a lot of time in this room.”
“I don’t blame you, Doc,” said Sarah. “I have never been so
turned on before. I want cancer in both of my lungs. I want
my lungs to look like these lungs.” Sarah triple-pumped her
cigarette and held all of the smoke deep in her lungs.
“What is that empty space in the middle of the wall, next
to Lana Turner’s lungs?”
“That, Sarah, is the spot of honor,” said the doctor. “That
spot is reserved for my most highly sought after lungs. I
long for the day that spot on my wall will no longer be
blank. That is where I want to put your lungs, Sarah.”
“Ohhh, God!” moaned Sarah. She took a cheek-hollowing drag
from her cigarette, inhaled deeply, and wrapped her arms
around Dr. Richards. She placed her mouth over his and
exhaled all of her smoke deep into his lungs. With her free
hand she reached down and unzipped the doctor’s pants. She
reached inside and pulled out his rigid cock. It was
throbbing and ready to do business. “Fuck me now, Doc.
Please, fuck me.”
Dr. Richards dropped his pants and led Sarah to a
strategically placed cot in the middle of the room. As
Sarah leaned back on the cot, Dr. Richards shook loose a
Winston from the pack in his coat pocket. He lit up and
dragged deeply. As his lungs filled with smoke, he inserted
his hard penis into the warm, wet opening between Sarah’s
legs. He started fucking Sarah as she took deep drag after
deep drag from her cigarette. Sarah moaned in ecstasy as
Dr. Richards pumped his rigid tool.
“Fill my lungs with smoke, Doc!” pleaded Sarah.
Dr. Richards took a deep drag from his Winston and stuck
the filter of his cigarette into the hole in Sarah’s
trachea. Just as Sarah took a deep drag from her cigarette,
Dr. Richards placed his mouth over the burning end of the
cigarette in her neck. He blew with all his might, forcing
smoke deep into Sarah’s badly damaged lungs. She shuddered
with delight. Before she could exhale anything, the doctor
blew on the end of the Winston again and shotgunned smoke
directly into Sarah’s pre-cancerous chest. The force of Dr.
Richards’ blowing caused Sarah to cough. Dr. Richards felt
the cough coming on. He removed the cigarette from Sarah’s
neck and planted his mouth firmly over hers. As he had
hoped, the first cough led to another, then another and,
finally, a full-fledged coughing spell. As Sarah coughed
violently, the doctor held his mouth tightly over hers. All
of Sarah’s coughed up lung-waste went directly into Dr.
Richards’ mouth. He savored the tarry mucous and the
lung-filtered smoke from Sarah’s blackened chest. He
wrapped his arms tightly around her and continued to fuck
her as the violent shaking of Sarah’s body put him on the
verge of orgasm. With one final, rib-rattling cough, Sarah
shot a thick ball of tar-saturated mucous deep into Dr.
Richards’ mouth which, in turn, caused him to ejaculate his
hot, white semen deep into Sarah’s nicotine-stained vagina.
Sarah took a deep drag from her cigarette as she started to
cum. Her entire body shook from the force of her orgasm.
She continued to drag deeply on her cigarette as her orgasm
ran its course.
As Sarah stood up from the cot, a large glob of semen
leaked out of her vagina and dripped down her inner thighs.
“Wow! You really filled me up this time, Doc,” said Sarah,
shaking loose a fresh Marlboro 100 from her pack.
“I guess the combination of you and this room got me extra
worked up, Sarah,” said the doctor, handing her some paper
napkins to wipe up the mess. “I can’t wait for your lungs
to be up there on my wall.”
“Neither can I, Doc,” said Sarah. “Neither can I. My only
regret is that I won’t get to see them in their place of
honor. I am so turned on just thinking of my own lungs on
display.” Sarah double-pumped her freshly lit Marlboro 100
and held all of the smoke deep in her lungs.
“Of course, it will be a double bonus for me,” said the
doctor. “I’ll get one of your lungs and one of your
mother’s. Naturally, I had always hoped to add your
mother’s lungs to my collection. But, of course, one of
them is inside your erotic, ever-blackening chest and the
other one is…”
“At my house, right over our fireplace,” said Sarah as she
took another cheek-hollowing drag from her cigarette. “I
love touching it. I sometimes talk to it. And, of course,
my old lung has been turned into a pair of ashtrays, thanks
to you, Doc.”
“The sexiest ashtrays ever made,” said the doctor,
grinning.
“I’ll leave one of them to you, and one to my father,” said
Sarah, exhaling through her nose and mouth as she spoke.
“Thank you, Sarah,” said Dr. Richards. “I would love to
have one of them.”
“Now, what is this surprise you were talking about?” asked
Sarah, inhaling another lungful of smoke.
“Ah, yes,” said the doctor. “Well, as you recall, I said I
wanted to send you someplace special. You have never taken
a proper honeymoon since your ‘marriage’ to your
cigarettes. I have arranged a very special trip for you and
a guest of your choice. I am going to send you to a Philip
Morris plant.”
“Been there, done that,” said Sarah as she took another
long drag from her cigarette. “Thanks anyway, Doc, but I’ve
been to the Philip Morris plant many times. My father used
to take us there every summer for our family vacation when
I was a kid.”
“I’m not talking about the normal Philip Morris plant,
which is open to the public,” said the doctor. “I’m talking
about a top secret plant in a top secret location. Only a
few people outside of Philip Morris even know about it. I
am one of those lucky few.”
“What kind of plant is it, Doc?” asked Sarah, her curiosity
piqued.
“This is the headquarters of Philip Morris’ Division F, the
fetish division,” said Dr. Richards. “The plant is not
marked in any way on the outside. At this plant, they
experiment with new strains of tobacco, designed especially
for people like you, Sarah. In addition, they have been
filming fetish videos, and cigarette commercials for
television, in the hope that commercials will one day be
legalized again. And, believe me, they don’t use any
cowboys in these commercials. I hope I live to see the day
that Marlboro commercials, starring sexy women, like you,
will flood the airwaves.”
“God, that would be wonderful,” said Sarah. “How did you
find out about this place, Doc?”
“As I said before, it pays to have friends,” said the
doctor. “I have developed a close-knit network of friends
in the fetish community. One of them is head of marketing
for Division F at Philip Morris. I told him all about you.
He can’t wait to meet you, Sarah. When he sees you smoke in
person, when he sees how sexy you are, I am certain he will
want to film you for a commercial or a fetish video, or
both.”
“Oooh, I get to be a movie star,” said Sarah, smiling as
she dragged deeply on her cigarette. “When can I go?” she
asked.
“I have two plane tickets here,” said the doctor. “The
plane leaves Saturday morning. You will stay for a week and
return on the following Saturday.”
“Oh, goody,” said Sarah, giggling. “I’ll take Tommy with
me. As you know, we’ve been seeing a lot of each other
lately.”
“Yes, I know,” said the doctor. “I’m extremely jealous.” He
smiled to himself as he thought of the fertility drugs he
had been giving Sarah without her knowledge.
“Oh, come on, Doc,” said Sarah, “You will always have a
special place in my heart…or should I say lungs?”
“Say lungs! Say lungs!” said the doctor, panting like a
dog. “You know I love it when you mention your lungs. But
seriously, Sarah, before I give you these tickets, you have
to promise me something.”
“Anything, Doc,” said Sarah.
“You must promise never to reveal the location or even the
existence of this plant to anyone. You may tell your
father, of course. I was planning on telling him after I
told you about the surprise. But, don’t tell anyone else.”
“I won’t tell a soul, Doc,” said Sarah, finishing off her
cigarette with a deep triple-pump. Smoke was rushing from
her nostrils as she placed the filter of a fresh cigarette
between her lips.
“Oh, and one more thing,” said the doctor. “This is the
only negative aspect of your trip. The flight, from here in
California to the heart of tobacco country, is a three hour
flight. And, you guessed it, it’s a non-smoking flight. Do
you think you can suffer through it?”
“Holy shit!” said Sarah. “Three hours! I’ve never gone that
long without a cigarette, not even in school.” Sarah took
three long, deep drags from her cigarette and held the
smoke deep in her lungs. “I don’t know if I can do it,
Doc.”
“I’ll give you some nicotine patches, Sarah,” said the
doctor. “I’m sure you will manage.”
“I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it,” said Sarah,
taking three more long, deep drags on her cigarette. “In
fact, my stomach has felt a little queasy, lately. Is that
one of the early warning signs of lung cancer?”
“It’s possible,” said the doctor, smiling again to himself.
“I’m sure your body is trying to tell you something. My
advice is to smoke more.”
“That’s what I like about you, Doc,” said Sarah, smiling,
as she lit up a fresh Pall Mall for the hole in her
trachea. “You always give great advice.” The tip of Sarah’s
Pall Mall glowed brightly as she dragged deeply on the
Marlboro 100 dangling from her lips. She could already feel
that familiar moistness returning.
(to be continued)