The intercom on the 737 crackled to life. “Good afternoon. We’ve just been
cleared for landing at Las Vegas, McCarran International Airport. Please
fasten your seatbelts and stow your tray tables in their full, upright and
locked positions. The correct local time is 2:30. The weather is sunny.
There is a slight breeze of about 5 miles per hour and the temperature is
83 degrees.”
Today was my 48th birthday. I had just gone through a nasty divorce with my
wife of 26 years and throughout the whole proceedings, my two grown
children had sided with their mother. While I had every confidence that
they would eventually come around towards understanding my position, I knew
that there wasn’t going to be any family birthday celebration for me this
year. That’s why I decided to give myself a little celebration and head to
Vegas for a little therapeutic, three day weekend.
As I think back on my divorce, I came to the conclusion that the breakup
can be traced to my wife quitting smoking almost 5 years ago. Within weeks
after she quit, I realized that it was her smoking that really turned me on
and maintained my interest in her. I just couldn’t get past the void that
her not smoking created in our lives. Shortly after she successfully quit,
she actually became a militant non-smoker and began bugging me to quit.
Soon, the bugging turned into down right nagging. Now I only smoke about a
pack-a-day and at this level, I’ve never had any health problems. However,
I really enjoyed my occasional cigarette and had no intention of quitting.
Over time, I realized that, not only did I personally like smoking, I had
an amazingly strong smoking fetish for beautiful women that smoked, and
smoked heavily. That was the foundation for why I eventually divorced my
wife and that’s why I was now headed to Vegas, the last bastion of public
smoking in America.
Within minutes after scooping my bag from the luggage carousel I was in a
cab heading to Caesar’s Palace. I figured the ride would only take maybe 15
minutes, however, traffic was heavy and I quickly realized that it would
take a lot longer. The cab driver’s name was Art. He looked to be about 60
and I could tell by the way that he drove that he’d been doing this for
years. “Hey Art, how long you been driving cabs in town?” I asked.
“Let me see, it’s been about 18 years.” He replied.
“God, in that amount of time, you’ve probably seen just about everything.”
I said, trying to keep the conversation flowing.
“Oh yea. You name it, I’ve seen it.” He answered honestly.
“Listen Art, I’m thinking that maybe I’d like to line up a companion for
the evening. Not for a quickie mind you, just somebody I’d like to spend
some quality time with. And, there’s no way I’ll be able to figure this out
by searching through all the ads for “Entertainers” in the phone book and
I’m not about to call one of those numbers on the cards that the immigrants
hand out on the street corners. Do you happen to know a reputable service
that I can call if I need some company tonight?” I asked sincerely.
“Absolutely.” Art said. Then, he reached into his pocket and handed me a
card. “I strongly recommend this outfit. They have very nice, friendly
girls and I’m sure they’ll be able to provide what you’re looking for.” He
added.
“Should I mention your name?” I asked.
“No. That’s not necessary. But, If you need a cab during the rest of your
stay, call me. My number is on the back. Let me know how it works out.” He
said.
I thanked him and then studied the card for a second before I put it in my
pocket. “Top Flight Entertainment” was the name of the agency. “Your
Fantasy is our Specialty” was the tagline.
By 3:30 I was checked into my room at the Palace. It was a very
comfortable, small suite on the 15th floor. I smoked a couple cigarettes
and then changed into my suit, grabbed the book that I had brought for the
weekend and headed for the pool. The pool area was fairly crowded and as
much as I tried to concentrate on my reading, I was totally distracted by
all the young hotties running around in their skimpy bikinis, freely
smoking their cigarettes. As much as this turned me on, it was also a
little depressing. I mean, I like to think I’m a pretty good looking, well
preserved guy. I’m 6’2, 190 pounds and I think I’m in pretty good shape for
an old fart, but I realized that, except for my attraction to their obvious
beauty, I had nothing in common with these young, 20 something bimbettes
with their bodybuilder boyfriends.
I left the pool area around 5:00 and changed into casual cloths. Then, I
headed down to the casino to play a little Craps, my favorite game. Over
the next three hours, I had a marvelous time at the table. I only won about
$100, but the eye candy that came and went from the table was impressive.
Almost all of these gorgeous women smoked, but they were also attached. So,
except for pleasant conversation, I never even came close to meeting
someone to spend the rest of the evening with.
By 8:00, I was back in my room and feeling very lonely. I lit a cigarette
and took a nice long drag. I drew the smoke deep into my lungs and this
relaxed me and improved my mood a little. I took another equally strong
drag, then I grabbed the card that Art had given me. Over the next couple
minutes I read and re-read the card. Then, I took one last hit off my
cigarette and dialed the phone.
“Hello.” A very feminine and sexy voice answered.
“Hi. I s this Top Flight Entertainment?” I asked, sensing that my voice was
quivering a little out of nervousness.
“It sure is baby. What is your name baby? And, tell me about your fantasy.”
She answered, her voice growing more seductive by the second.
“I’m Phil and what is your name darling?” By now, the natural confidence in
my voice was restored.
“I’m Trisha lover. Tell me what I can do for you.” She replied.
“Well Trisha, I’m looking for a companion tonight and a friend of mine
recommended you. He said that you specialize in fulfilling fantasies.”
“That’s right baby. Tell me about your fantasy companion.”
I paused for a second to make sure that all my thoughts were collected.
“Let’s see, I’d like to spend some quality time with a pretty girl. She
doesn’t have to be drop dead gorgeous but I do have some very specific
requirements.”
“Do tell lover.” Trisha prodded.
“Ok. First, my fantasy companion has to be a heavy smoker. The more she
smokes, the better. She also has to have seriously big breasts. She doesn’t
have to be skinny, but she can’t be fat.” I advised.
“Got that. Anything else baby?” Trisha responded, taking my first two
requests in stride.
“Definitely. I plan on taking my companion to dinner and then maybe we’ll
do a little gambling and see where the evening leads after that. Now
Trisha, this is important. I want her to be wearing a nice short mini-skirt
and a totally sheer blouse with no bra.” I instructed.
Trisha responded, “Oh you are a nasty little boy aren’t you.”
“Yea Trisha, I am. But listen, I seriously don’t want a really young girl.
I want someone that I can talk to and enjoy her company. I don’t want some
too young, little bubble-head.
“Listen Phil, I just checked my calendar and I think you’re in luck. One of
our best girls, Fran, is only available two nights a week, and tonight’s
one of those nights. I think you’ll be very pleased with her. She will fit
your fantasy perfectly.” Trisha advised.
“That’s good. Uh, Trisha, what’s the fee for this service?” I asked as
nervousness crept back into my voice.
“Well baby, the fee will be $400 for the first hour and $200 after that.
Anything else that you negotiate between you and Fran, is up to you. Can I
call her for you lover?”
“Trisha, before I say yes, let’s just recap to make sure you’ve got
everything down that I’ve requested because, if anything’s missing, I’m
afraid our deal will be off. Remember, pretty, heavy smoker, big boobs, not
fat, see-through blouse and no bra. Got it?”
“I sure do lover. Like I said before, You’ll be very pleased. Now give me
your full name and your room number.” She requested.
“Phil Edwards and I’m in room 1523 at Caesar’s Palace.” I replied.
“Great Phil. Now we’re going to hang up and then I will call you back in
about a minute, after I’ve confirmed Fran’s availability. Ok?”
“Ok Trisha. Bye.” I said as I hung up.
The phone didn’t ring back in a minute. In fact, it was about five minutes
before the phone rang. In the interim, I nervously smoked a cigarette.
I don’t really know why I was so nervous. I mean, I’m not exactly an
inexperienced kid. Now don’t get me wrong, its not like I pay for hookers
everyday. In fact, this was only the fourth time I was ever going to do
this sort of thing. The other times, I was still married and even though
the thrill and anticipation of fucking a strange woman was invigorating.
After the experience was over, I always felt a sense of extreme guilt.
The phone finally rang. “Hi is this Phil?”
“Yes it is Trisha. What’s the deal?” I responded.
“Oh good. I’m glad it was you that answered the phone. Well Phil, you are
in luck. Fran is available and she can be at your room in about an hour.
Let’s say about 9:30. She’s really looking forward to meeting you. Will
that work for you baby?”
“That will be just fine.” I replied.
I looked at my watch. It was just about 8:30, so I would have to make
myself busy for an hour. I changed into a nice pair of dress slacks and a
golf shirt that I had bought for this trip. Then, after I slipped into a
matching jacket, I called room service and ordered a bottle of nice
Chardonnay on ice for the room. The next thing on my list was to make
dinner reservations. I remembered that The Terrazza was the best Italian
restaurant within Caesar’s, so I called and booked a table for 10:00 in the
smoking section out on the poolside terrace. The last thing that I did was
to pop down a couple Horny Goat Weed tablets. I think I did this more for
psychological reinforcement than the physical stamina that I hoped I would
need later that night. And then, I waited.
At 9:00, room service delivered the wine in an ice bucket with two glasses.
Then, I waited some more. By 9:35 I was getting a little nervous. I know
Fran was only five minutes late, but in my nervousness, I feared that maybe
I was being stood up. Finally, at 9:45, the phone rang.
“Hi, is this Phil?” God, I fell in love with her voice instantly. It was so
deep and raspy and sexy. “This girl must have smoked heavily for years.” I
thought. I only prayed that the rest of the package was equally perfect.
“Sure is. Is this Fran?” I asked back, trying not to sound too
enthusiastic.
“Yea Phil, I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m calling from the lobby courtesy
phone. I just wanted to verify whether or not we still had a date tonight.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been waiting.” I answered.
“Oh good. I’ll be right up. 1523 right?” She asked. God her voice sounded
so sexy.
“That’s the room.” I replied.
Three minutes later, I heard the faint sounds of footsteps in the hall
outside my door and then there was a dainty little knock on my door.
I quickly opened the door and Fran walked quickly past me and into the
room. But, in that brief instant, I perused her face and her slender five
foot four frame and decided that she was plenty pretty enough, even without
makeup on. This was a plus. I guessed that she was in her late twenties,
maybe a plus. The smell of fresh tobacco smoke was strong on her breath and
clothing, another definite plus. And, she had nice big tits, but that’s
where the plusses ended. The sweat suit and tennis shoes that she wore were
about as far from a blouse and mini-skirt as you could get. Her shoulder
length, streaked blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. “Not
very sexy.” I thought. But, what really bummed me out was that my specific
instructions had not been followed. In fact, I was so disappointed that I
didn’t even pay any attention to the relatively small duffel bag and
glittery black dress purse that Fran had slung over her shoulder.
As soon as I had shut the door, I turned to face her and she confidently
held out her hand, “Hi Phil, I’m Fran and I’m so glad to meet you.” Her
voice sounded even sultrier and sexier in person.
Her handshake was firm, yet feminine and her skin felt as smooth as velvet.
“Hi, I’m Phil Edwards and I’m equally glad to meet you.”
With our introductory handshake now complete, Fran walked into the room,
dropped her duffel onto the couch and while she walked toward the window,
she fished a Benson and Hedges Menthol cigarette out of her purse. “Wow
Phil, you’ve got a great room here. Did you just check in today? Oh look,
you have a real nice view of the Strip off in the distance.” She said.
Then, before I even had a chance to respond to what she had just said, she
turned toward me and asked, “Do you have a light handy?”
I pulled my lighter out of my shirt pocket, fired it up and then held the
flame to the tip of Fran’s cigarette. She was staring deeply into my eyes
while she sucked her cigarette to life. Once it was lit, she executed a
wonderfully deep double pump. While she held her inhale, her eyes were
still locked onto mine. Her face suddenly broke into a frown and she
whimpered with a talking exhale, “Phil, your eyes tell me that you’re not
happy. Oh please don’t tell me you’re disappointed in me.”
I thought for a second and then answered, “Fran, I am definitely not
disappointed in you. You’re a very beautiful woman. It’s just that my
instructions to Trisha were very simple and specific and they weren’t
followed.”
Her eyes were still locked onto mine while she took another drag on her
cigarette. “God, she’s a very accomplished smoker.” I thought.
Then, she replied. “Phil, Trish filled me in on all the details of your
request. That’s why I’m late. And, I’m really sorry that I am late, but I
was visiting my mother when she called and I decided to take a quick run
home to make sure that I packed the right outfit.”
She pointed to her duffel bag on the couch. “If you can give me just
fifteen minutes, I can be totally ready.” She asked.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t even really notice your duffel bag. Take as
much time as you like.” I replied, now feeling like an ass.
“Oh thank you Phil. You’re so sweet. Does that mean we have a date?” She
asked in her seductively deep, sexy voice.
“Definitely. Let’s have our date.” I replied.
“Hey, I see that you’ve got a bottle of wine on ice. That’s such a nice
touch. Would you mind pouring us a couple of glasses while I check in with
Trisha?” She asked.
I began to uncork the wine while Fran sat down on the couch. After pulling
the large glass ashtray on the coffee table over to her, she pulled her
cell phone out of her duffel bag and she took a real nice, cheek hollowing
drag while she waited for Trisha to answer on the other end. It took at
least five seconds for Trisha to answer and Fran held her inhale for the
entire time. She finally began to breathe when Trisha came on the line.
Here’s Fran’s side of the conversation.
“Hi honey. It’s me.”
“Yea, I’m in Phil’s room.” Fran paused to hit her cigarette again. The
smoke from her previous drag hadn’t yet cleared from her lungs.
“Oh you were worried. Trish, you’re such the little mother hen.”
“No. Actually, I was at my mother’s and I decided to swing by the house on
my way over here. I needed to pick up a few things.” I handed Fran her
glass of wine and she took a small sip from it before dragging on her
cigarette again. Then, she chuckled.
“Oh, you can bet on it.”
“He sure is.”
“No baby. I’m all tied up until Tuesday.”
God, I found my cock getting all hard just listening to the sound of Fran’s
voice and watching her smoke while she talked. She was such an accomplished
smoker. Her inhales were strong and deep. She rarely used stream exhales.
She was content to simply talk through her exhales. Her breathing was
shallow and rapid as it was obvious that her body wasn’t getting much
oxygen between puffs. And the clouds of rich, thick Benson and Hedges smoke
that she was exhaling seemed to linger just above her head.
“Yea, I’ll check in later hon. Luv ya. Bye.”
Once she hung up her phone, she took another sip from her wine and said,
“Oooo, this is yummy. Thank you. Now Phil, can you sit here next to me and
can we get the necessary unpleasantries over with.”
I sat next to her and she asked, “Phil, would you mind terribly if I asked
to see your driver’s license and a business card?”
“Not at all.” I replied. Then, I added, “In fact, I would have been
disappointed if you hadn’t asked.
“Oh good boy.” She said as she patted out the B&H that she had smoked down
almost to the filter and I handed her my license and card.
Before she inspected the documents, she pulled another cigarette from her
purse and I gave her a light. She let the freshly lit cigarette dangle from
her lips while she studied the documents. Then, with the cigarette still
wedged between her lips, she blew a dense stream of smoke toward the
ceiling and said, “Phil, you’re not a cop are you?”
“Heavens no.” I said.
“That’s good. I apologize for the interrogation, but I’m just trying to be
careful for both our sakes.” She said as smoke flowed freely around the
cigarette that still dangled from her lips.
“Hey darling, it’s your birthday!” She exclaimed as she handed me my
documents and finally pulled the cigarette out of her mouth. “Here, let me
give you a little birthday kiss.” She said.
I gave Fran a quick little peck on the lips and even though our mouths
touched for only an instant, the smell and taste of cigarette smoke was so
strong on her breath, my heart skipped a beat.
“So Phil, are you still planning on taking me to dinner?” She asked.
“Definitely.” I answered.
“Good. I’m starving.” She replied. Then, she added after taking another
strong drag on her cigarette, “We have one last little hurdle to get over.
I’m going to need $600 now and we’ll just see where the rest of the night
leads us from there. Ok lover?”
“No problem at all.” I said as I retrieved the bills from my wallet, which
was still in my hand.
After she quickly counted the bills, she stuffed them into her purse and
said, “You know Phil, I’m so glad that you called tonight because I was
beginning to think that I wasn’t going to have the opportunity to meet
anyone new tonight.”
“Well Fran, I’m really glad that I called too. I hope we have a lot of fun
tonight.” I replied.
“Oh we will honey. But, now I better go get myself together.” She advised.
Fran stuck her cigarette back in her mouth, grabbed her cigarettes, purse
and duffel bag and hustled off to the bathroom. I remained seated at the
end of the couch and from where I was sitting, I could see completely into
the bathroom. Fran stepped into the bathroom, turned on the light and,
still puffing on the cigarette that dangled from her lips, plugged in her
curling iron. I assumed that Fran was about to shut the door. Instead, she
never even made a motion toward it. She seemed totally focused on getting
ready as quickly as possible. She finally pulled the cigarette out of her
mouth and rested the half-smoked cylinder on the ashtray. In about 10
seconds, she had all of her makeup spread out on the counter.
Fran grabbed her cigarette and paused to take a nice double pump. She held
the inhale about 4 seconds and then she blew out only a very small stream
of smoke while she place the cigarette back in the ashtray. She just began
breathing for the remainder of her exhale. Then, she quickly shucked off
her sweatshirt as little wisps of smoke darted from her nose. Her heavy
duty, white, full figured bra came into view and now, with the loose
fitting sweatshirt removed, I could see that she had quite an awesome pair
of boobs. I wasn’t going to have to fantasize for long over how those
babies would look without the bra on because it only took her about 2
seconds to pop the triple hooks that held the garment in place. Fran knew
that I was staring at her and I’m convinced that she wanted me to be
staring because she now she decided to tease me. She held the unhooked bra
in place over her tits with her right hand while she reached for her
cigarette and took a leisurely double pump
to finish it. She took longer than she needed to snuff out the spent but
and she had held in her inhale for so long that when she finally started
breathing again, there was very little smoke in her exhales.
Fran paused to take a sip of wine and then, while staring into the mirror,
she finally dropped the bra. The most beautiful pair of double D’s that I’d
seen in the last 20 years sprung into view. Free from their constraints,
they immediately drooped heavily against her chest, hanging down to about 4
inches above her navel. They had a perfect ski sloped shape and despite
their droopiness, they looked so full and heavy. Capping off Fran’s
luscious hangers were large, dark nipples that, from a distance, looked
like they stretched 2 inches across. With the profile view that Fran was
providing, it looked like the nubs on those nipples were a good half inch
long and a half inch wide. I immediately began to fantasize about how long
and thick those nipples would get when Fran got aroused. My voyeuristic
moment was interrupted when Fran called out as she stepped out of her
sweatpants, “Phil, where are we going for dinner?”
I answered her question with a question. “Hey Fran, do you like Italian?”
“I love Italian.” She answered.
“Good. I’ve made reservations at the Terrazza. Which reminds me, how about
I call them and move the time back to 10:30.” I suggested.
“Oh the Terrazza is one of my favorite restaurants and 10:30 would be
perfect.” She called back.
As I dialed the phone, I could see that Fran was now totally naked. She was
still facing the mirror, so I had yet to see her full ass or bush, but the
profile view of her legs and ass cheeks was magnificent. She had the
slightest hint of a belly which probably betrayed the fact that she’d been
pregnant before, but I found this element of her otherwise perfect figure
to be interesting and stimulating. By the time I had hung up the phone,
Fran had fastened a pretty lace black garter around her waist. She paused
to take another drink of wine and to light another cigarette. After taking
a nice double pump to get the B&H going, she sat down on the toilet with
her legs spread wide apart. Then, she called out, “Hey Phil, would you be a
doll and refill my wine glass?”
I immediately grabbed the bottle and headed into the bathroom. Fran had
just pulled a smoky gray stocking over her left leg. Now, for the first
time I got a totally unobstructed view of her pussy. It was gorgeous. Her
lips were broad and puffy and her clit extended a good half inch from
between the folds. Her muff was a little darker than the hair on her head
and it was trimmed real short and in the perfect shape of a stripper’s
racing stripe. Fran knew where my eyes had to be focused and she never even
made a feeble attempt at coving up. My hands shook slightly as I poured the
wine and I prayed that she wouldn’t detect my nervousness. She simply
thanked me as she drew a deep mouthful of smoke into her lungs and I
returned to my seat to continue watching this goddess transform herself.
A couple seconds later, Fran had her stocking on and fastened to the garter
belt. She also had stepped into very sexy 5 inch, black, single strap
pumps. She was once again standing, facing the mirror. She was kind of
leaning over the sink, her hands working with practiced efficiency on her
makeup. Her wonderful tits now wobbled gently with every rapid movement of
her hands and now, the 5 inch heels that she wore made her legs look even
longer and more gorgeous.
With her cigarette dangling loosely from her lips, Fran called out, “Phil,
I am so glad that you’re into women that smoke.”
“You are? Why?” I asked, somewhat surprised.
“Well, because, believe it or not, a lot of guys that I date are not into
smoking.” She answered.
“Damn, that must be hard on you.” I replied sympathetically.
“Oh God. You have no idea. It’s like if I spend more than a couple hours
with them my cravings become so strong that I can hardly stand it.” Her
dangling cigarette flopped around slightly with every word that she spoke.
“At least in Vegas I’m able to light up as soon as we say goodbye. I think
if I had to wait until I was totally outside of the hotels, well, I’d
probably just die.” She added.
“Well Fran, tonight you’re in luck because as long as you’re with me, you
need not suffer through the slightest nicotine craving.” I assured her.
By now, Fran had pulled up a very tight black mini-skirt around her waist.
It was a little longer than what I had fantasized about, but I guess it had
to be to cover her garter and the tops of her stockings. The skirt was
tight enough to make her little belly disappear, but the best part was that
Fran never put on any panties! “Just knowing that she would be going
through the entire evening without wearing any panties was going to be a
nice turn on for me.” I thought.
Fran reached into her bag and pulled out a creamy white blouse. She held it
up to the mirror and brushed away a few of the wrinkles. My heart started
to beat a little faster in anticipation. She slipped the top over her head
and then turned slightly toward me while she reached behind to button the
collar. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed to myself. The blouse was totally
see-through and it fit her rather snuggly. It had a high, very feminine,
lace collar. The sleeves fit tightly against her arms, down to her elbows
and then, they gave way to long, billowing, lacy sleeves that draped over
her wrists and hands. I stared more closely.
There was a strange, solid white band that stretched right across her
nipples and I was just about to ask Fran about it. But, as soon as she was
done with buttoning her collar, she fixed the problem. She tugged down hard
on the bottom hem of the blouse and the white band stretched, then
disappeared beneath her tits. I now realized that it was simply an elastic
band that was sewn in at just the right spot so that the front of blouse
would be tucked up snuggly beneath each breast. Now that her top was
properly adjusted, the look was even more amazing. Despite the fact that
the blouse was extremely feminine, it fit her loosely enough so as to offer
absolutely no support, yet it was tight enough so that from a distance, it
looked like it was painted on. Even in profile view, her large, dark
nipples never looked more lovely. The gentle, sloping droop of her tits was
exquisite. Once again, Fran interrupted my visual concentration. “Phil, you
kind of surprised me. Most o
f my dates are not nearly as specific with their instructions as you were.”
I paused to take a drag from my cigarette and replied, “You know Fran, I
hope that didn’t create any problems for you. It’s just that I decided I
wanted to try and cover off all of the things that have been missing in my
life, all in one night.”
“No Phil. It was no problem, other than the fact that it made me 15 minutes
late. But with all those desires that you have pent up in that handsome
body of yours, I just hope you’re not disappointed. That’s all.” She
replied.
“Listen Fran, I have no disappointments so far and, I promise that I’ll be
honest with you and let you know if I do. Ok?”
“Fair enough Phil.” She called back.
Fran lit another cigarette and rapidly brushed her hair for maybe 30
seconds. Then, she grabbed her curling iron. For the next couple minutes
she transformed her long straight mane into soft curls which framed her
face beautifully. She snuffed out her cigarette, sprayed her hair and then
sprayed the upper half of her body with a delicate fragrance that I could
actually detect in the other room. She took one last long look in the
mirror. She touched up her makeup, adjusted the elastic strap beneath her
tits a little more and then she turned and walked towards me. “What do you
think?” She asked as she twirled around for my inspection.
Her hair and makeup were now done to perfection. In a matter of a few
minutes she had transformed herself from being pretty, but rather plain, to
being truly gorgeous. “Fran, you are painfully beautiful.” I replied.
“What do you mean by painful?” She asked, with a fake sense of hurt in her
voice.
“I mean that you look so absolutely beautiful tonight, it will be painful
to look at you.” I answered, in a lame attempt at being coy.
She let me get away with it. “Well Phil, prepare yourself for a lot of
pain, because I want you to be looking at me all night long.”
Now that she was standing so close to me, I could make out a very subtle
lace pattern in her shirt. The lace concealed nothing, yet it made the
blouse infinitely more interesting. It created the slightest air of mystery
as her boobs bounced gently with her every move. I began to have doubts. I
wondered if I would be able to spend two hours with this girl out in
public. God, I was so tempted to just jump on her right there, right now.
“Well, I’m ready if you are Phil.” She said, effectively ending my dilemma.
“Then, let’s go to dinner gorgeous lady.” I replied.
Fran slipped her arm around mine and we headed out the door. As we walked
toward the elevator lobby, I noticed that Fran had to take at least three
steps to my every two. No doubt, the super sexy 5 inch heels that she wore
made it impossible for her to take long strides. I loved this because every
time I glanced down at her chest, her luscious tits were bouncing like twin
bobble-heads in the back of a pick-up truck. We waited alone in the 15th
floor elevator lobby and Fran asked me if we had time to stop off at the
news/souvenir stand so that she could pick up some smokes. As soon as I
said “Yes”, the door of the elevator opened and we stepped into a car that
already had 4 or 5 couples in it. Fran and I stood in the middle of the
crowd and, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Fran was definitely
the object of lustful stares from the males and disgusted glances from the
females. And, she seemed totally oblivious to the attention she was
attracting. God, this ga
ve me an unexpected pleasure. It had been decades since I had last had a
woman this gorgeous on my arm.
As soon as the elevator door opened, we stepped out into a sea of people.
The Friday night southern California crowd was out in force. We started to
work our way around the perimeter of the casino, heading in the direction
of the gift shop. Fran continued to attract all sorts of visual attention.
I mean, there were certainly many ladies in the casino that night who were
dressed to thrill, but, none could compare to Fran. I’ve attended numerous
Vegas stage shows and seen hundreds of topless showgirls and I’ve got to
admit, the sheer, lacy film that hugged every curve of Fran’s superbly
shaped upper body, only served to accentuate the natural beauty that she
was flaunting. The absolute best part of this moment was that she only paid
attention to me.
We had to wait for 3 other customers to finish their purchases before Fran
was able to ask for her two packs of Benson & Hedges Menthol. I paid and
she thanked me with a quick kiss on the cheek. As soon as we left the
store, We each lit up cigarettes for the walk to the restaurant. The
restaurant was on the total other side of the casino and I knew that,
having to fight our way through the crowd, our walk was going to take 5 to
10 minutes. When we passed the craps tables, Fran clutched my arm and said,
“Craps is my favorite casino game. I actually think I’m kind of good at it
and God, when a table heats up, there aren’t many things that are more
fun.”
I immediately agreed with her.
We finally made it to the restaurant and were seated at a lovely little
table overlooking the pool. Despite the fact that the view of the pool at
night was spectacular, I couldn’t help myself from looking around to see
how all the rest of the patrons were reacting to Fran. The reactions were
more of the same, which continued to be a macho turn on for me. Within ten
minutes of our being seated however, my attention had been completely drawn
away from looking around the restaurant. Fran made sure that my eyes were
riveted on her. Her smoking style was just so sexy and sophisticated and
elegant. In short, it was perfect. The way that she held her cigarettes in
her delicate little hands, the way that she always held her cigarette so
close to her face, teasing me, never letting me know when she was going to
take her next drag. God, I couldn’t have taken my eyes off of her if I
wanted to. Fran didn’t exactly use her smoking to flirt with me, it was
more like a visual seduc
tion. She was an absolute expert in the art of the talking exhale. And yet,
when she wanted to focus my attention on her voluptuous tits or her
gorgeous face, she’d do a long, thin stream exhale, and she’d do it at just
the right moment. She’d focus my attention exactly where she wanted it.
Except for when we were eating, and it only took Fran about 10 minutes to
pick at her pasta, she never went longer than about 3 or 4 minutes between
cigarettes.
Fran had lots of opportunities to execute her talking exhales because we
talked non-stop. She was just so easy to talk too. Within an hour, we had
pretty much told each other our whole life stories. It wasn’t like we were
crying on each other’s shoulders or boring each other to tears. It was more
like two old friends that hadn’t seen each other in years. It was like we
were simply catching up on each other’s lives. I found out that she was 31.
She had a daughter of 13 and a son of 10. She was mostly a stay at home,
soccer mom, and she beamed with pride when she talked about her children.
She said her son was quite the athlete, which made sense because his father
was actually a major league baseball player for 3 years. Unlike his dad
though, Fran’s son played soccer. “He’s been on travel soccer teams since
he was 7.” Fran said, then she added. “His dream is to play in college and
if he keeps working hard and keeps his grades up, he just might get there.”
We each paused to take nice long drags off of our cigarettes. Then Fran
added, “So Phil, while you’re laying out at the pool working on your tan
and watching all the bronzed cuties running around in their thong bikinis,
guess what I’ll be doing tomorrow afternoon?”
“Uh, let me guess. You’ll be hanging out a soccer fields.”
“You got it. We have games at noon and 6:00, so it pretty much wipes out
the whole day. But I really love watching him play.”
Then, Fran started talking about her daughter. “She’s already my best
friend and my soul mate. It seems like we can talk about anything and I
just pray that that doesn’t change while she’s going through high school.
But really, she’s such a good kid. She gets all A’s in school and she’s
turning into such a beautiful young lady. I guess this makes sense because
her dad was just so handsome. God, when I was a young and foolish girl of
18, he used to make me melt just by looking at him. Kind of like how you
make me feel right now.”
I blushed and Fran continued. “But, Phil, you should see her figure. She’s
already about 5’3″ and she’s developing so nicely. By the time she’s 18, I
think she’s going to be a real knockout. I just hope she has a few more
street smarts than I did at that age.”
“Well Fran, if she takes after her mother, she’ll be way beyond a
knockout.” I said sincerely.
“Oh Phil, you are too kind.” She replied. Then added, “You know what?
Despite all the anti-smoking propaganda and B.S. that they preach at
school, she actually started smoking about, let me see, I guess it’s been
about 4 months now.”
“No kidding. How’d that come about?” I asked, without trying to sound like
I was prying.
Fran answered. “Well one afternoon, kind of out-of-the-blue she just said
to me, “Mom, I think I want to try smoking.”
“Wow! So what did you say?” I asked.
“I actually got all choked up and I hugged her. Then, I told her how proud
I was of her and how I thought she was making an excellent life choice.
Then, I realized by the look in her face that I was probably overwhelming
her. I mean, she just wanted to smoke a cigarette. So I gave her one of
mine, but since it was a Benson & Hedges, I told her not to try inhaling.
But, Phil, it was so nice smoking that first cigarette with my little girl.
It reminded me of when I first started smoking with my mom. It was one of
those special mother-daughter moments.”
“So then what did you do?” I continued.
Fran paused to take a nice long drag on her cigarette and then after a
perfect snap inhale, she replied, “We hopped in the car and I bought her
her first pack of cigarettes. I started her out on Marlboro Lights.”
“So how has she taken to smoking at her tender, young age.” I probed.
“Actually, she’s doing great. I still buy her cigarettes because, except
for the occasional babysitting job, she has no money. She’s up to a
pack-a-day now and about a month ago, she moved up to Marlboro Reds, which
seems to be the brand of choice among her friends.” After answering, she
paused to take another drag off of her cigarette.
“Tell me Fran, have you taught her all of your smoking style techniques?” I
inquired.
“Oh God no. And, let me tell you Phil, her style is just awful. She smokes
like a…well, like a teenager. She flicks her ashes with her thumb and
holds her cigarettes like a boy. Uh, no offense.”
“None taken.” I quickly replied.
“Anyway, she takes fast, relatively weak drags, but lots of them and she
only does stream exhales. But, here’s what I figure, I’ll let her develop
her habit in the same fashion as her friends. That way she’ll fit in. The
only thing that I’ll do is buy her a fresh carton when she gets down to
about 4 unopened packs. That way, she’ll never have to worry about where
her next pack of cigarettes is coming from and, she’ll be less likely to
think about quitting. I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to force her to
smoke or anything, it’s just that now that she does, it’s so nice having
another smoker around the house. You don’t think that’s bad do you?” She
asked.
“Oh heavens no. I completely understand. Shoot, if one of my kids had
started smoking as a teenager, maybe I’d still be married.” I answered.
Fran continued. “So, anyway, when she gets to be 16 or 17 and starts to
date seriously, I’ll work with her on her style so that she becomes an
interesting and provocative smoker. I’ll get her to switch up to a more
interesting, ladylike cigarette. Something longer, with a white tipped
filter. Maybe, I’ll try to get her to smoke menthols so that the smoke will
be smoother and cooler going down and she’ll be able to smoke a little
more.”
Then, Fran reached over, laid her hand on mine and chuckled a little as she
dragged on her cigarette. “Phil, you’ll love this. It’s just so cute. She’s
actually started to experience her first serious cravings. And, I don’t
think she even realizes that she’s having them.”
“Really! How do you know?” I asked.
“Well, I pick her up everyday from school and during the last couple weeks,
she has her Marlboro lit before her ass even touches the seat. She needs
the nicotine so bad that she just wolfs down 5 or 6 strong drags. Her
cigarette is half smoked before she even begins to tell me about her day.”
She said.
“Oh that is precious Fran. Tell me, have you talked to her about cravings?”
I asked.
“No. And she hasn’t asked me about them. That’s why I think she doesn’t
even realize that she’s having them. This doesn’t bother me. I figure she
has the rest of her life to learn about and manage her cravings.” She
answered.
I probed a little more. “Fran, have you thought about how much is enough
for her to smoke at this age?”
Fran exhaled a long, thin stream of smoke towards the table top, which
immediately focused my attention on her boobs. Then, she replied,
“Actually, I have. I’d like her to top out at about a pack and a half a
day. I mean, that’s only a carton a week and I think at that level she’ll
still be able to manage her cravings while she’s in school, but then, if
she wants to do a little chain smoking with her friends, she’ll be able to
handle that as well. Once she’s in college, and I hope she goes to college,
then she can smoke as much as she wants to.”
“Sounds like a good strategy.” I advised.
A couple minutes after we had finished talking about Fran’s kids, our
waiter came by to take our after dinner drink orders. “Would you and the
lady like to look over our selection of fine cigars?” He asked.
Fran leaned toward me and with a look of longing in her eyes, she asked,
“Phil, please, could we?”
I answered, “Sure. But, I don’t know a whole lot about cigars. Maybe you
can pick out a couple nice ones for us.”
Moments later, the waiter returned with a decent sized, portable humidor.
Then, Fran and the waiter engaged in an interesting, 5 minute conversation
about the characteristics and virtues of a dozen different brands of
cigars. Throughout their discussion, I noticed that she was looking up at
his face and he was staring down at her tits. But, I’ve got to admire him
because he never missed a beat with his evaluations of the various cigars
in the box. He was very professional. Eventually, Fran selected a couple of
7 inch Dominicans. Frankly, I didn’t even catch the brand name. Fran
assured me that these cigars would have an easy draw and would be mild, yet
flavorful. The waiter prepared the ends of each cigar with his plug cutter
and we fired them up. Then, we began to enjoy the wonderful combination of
a very good cigar and a very good cognac.
As soon as the waiter left us, all my attention focused on Fran. If I had
thought that she looked sexy smoking her cigarettes, I hadn’t seen anything
yet. She literally made love to her cigar. She didn’t drag on it nearly as
frequently as she did her cigarettes, but when she did, Oh my God, it was
breathtaking. Before each drag, she twirled her tongue around the tip to
savor the flavor of the tobacco. Then, she inserted a good inch of the
cigar into her mouth. Her cheek hallowing drags were strong and lasted a
good 3 seconds. The way that she worked the end of the cigar almost made it
look as if she was sucking hungrily on the head of a nice long cock. She
held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds and then she sucked each drag
deep into her lungs just as easily as if she were smoking a cigarette. Just
watching her made my cock stiffen to the point where I was uncomfortable
and I know that she recognized my occasional lapses in conversation, but
she politely said
nothing.
Fran was right. The cigar was both mild and tasty. We smoked our cigars at
about the same pace and during the first 3 inches, I had no trouble
matching her inhale for inhale. But, by the time we got to inch number 4, I
simply couldn’t continue inhaling every drag. I started letting about half
of the smoke escape from my mouth before inhaling the rest. Fran, however,
didn’t miss a beat. As the cigar but became smaller and smaller, she was
drawing ever larger amounts of smoke into her lungs. Even after holding her
inhales for a few seconds, her initial stream exhales began to take on the
silky, thick consistency of un-inhaled pipe tobacco smoke. God, she was so
incredible.
The only hints that she may be having a little difficulty handling the
massive amounts of smoke that she was drawing into her lungs was the fact
that during the last inch of her cigar, she began to pant rather
noticeably. During her last 5 or 6 exhales, she also let out the daintiest
little coughs. Neither of these things seemed to concern her as we easily
kept up our conversation. Each cigar had about 2 inches of un-smoked length
left when we finally crushed them out in the ashtray.
At this point, I just assumed that Fran would probably take a 10 minute
break from smoking while we finished our drinks. Instead, before our cigars
had even stopped smoldering in the ashtray, she grabbed her pack of Benson
& Hedges and I dutifully lit a fresh one for her. Fran leaned toward me on
her elbows, her sagging tits resting comfortably on the table top. Then,
she said in a quiet voice, “Tell me Phil, what do you think of my smoking
habit?”
I chuckled quietly and said, “You know Fran, I don’t think you have a
smoking habit.”
With that, she sat back and laughed as fresh smoke flowed at intervals from
her mouth. “Are you kidding me? I am hopelessly addicted to my cigarettes.”
“Yes, I can see that.” I said. Then I added, “But I don’t even think
“Addicted” is the right word. To me, it seems like you have a passionate
love affair with your smoking. You don’t just need to smoke, or like to
smoke, you adore smoking.”
Fran thought for a second and then she replied, “Actually Phil, I think
you’re right. You’ve captured the essence of my relationship with
cigarettes. I guess ever since I smoked my first cigarette at 14, I’ve been
madly in love with smoking.”
While she continued to smoke her cigarette, we delved a little deeper into
her smoking experience. When there was only about a half inch of un-smoked
cigarette left, she executed a wonderfully strong double pump to finish the
cigarette. Suddenly, Fran launched into a coughing spell that, I’ll guess,
lasted about 20 seconds, although, I’m sure it must have seemed longer to
her. I think her lungs had finally had enough.
When her coughing spell finally ended, she lightly pounded her chest a
couple times and rolled her, now watery, eyes a bit and kind of choked out
a “Wow! Phil, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to gross you out like that.”
I quickly replied, “Fran, you didn’t gross me out. Hey, listen, coughing is
a natural part of life. I just hope you’re ok.”
“You’re such a dear man. And, yes, I’m fine. Just let me catch my breath
for a moment.” She said, her voice still not quite back to normal.
While she was taking a few deep, cleansing breaths, I thought to myself,
“God, I wasn’t grossed out at all. In fact, I was infatuated. Even though
her spell only lasted for maybe twenty seconds, the whole experience was
fascinating. There were three distinct phases to her coughing session. The
first lasted maybe five seconds and was characterized by rather violent and
loud, barky coughs, as her lungs fought to expel the smoke that was
irritating them. At first, fairly dense and then, progressively fainter
clouds of smoke burst out of her mouth with each cough. There was no
distinct pattern to each new cloud. As soon as she had started coughing,
she had turned her face away from me and this gave me an opportunity to
alternate my focus between the clouds of smoke she was generating and her
rapidly shaking tits. Once the smoke was finally out of her chest, her
cough segued into a deep chest, raspy hack. This coughing style was quieter
and less violent. Each individual
cough lasted a little longer and ended with a subtle, but audible little
gurgling sound. Phase two lasted a little longer than phase 1. Phase 3
began when Fran’s deep chest coughs finally ended. She spent the next few
seconds clearing her throat, trying to work the phlegm out of her chest.
Once she was successful at that, she grabbed her napkin and with a quick
and dainty motion, she wiped the glob of phlegm from her mouth. Then, she
used a different part of the napkin to wipe the tears out of her eyes. An
added bonus from Fran’s unintentional coughing spell was that, with all the
rapid, unrestrained shaking and bouncing that her tits had gone through,
her nipples were now hard as rocks. They were noticeably thicker and
extended out about three quarters of an inch. The way that her nubs
strained against the lacy material that covered them made them look
perfectly suckable.
It took Fran at least a couple minutes to fully catch her breath and when
she did, she said, “Phil, I think I may have to switch to lighter strength
cigarettes. My beloved Benson & Hedges seem to be giving me the coughs once
in awhile.”
I looked into Fran’s eyes and said, “Darling, that would be a real shame.”
She asked me why and I answered, “Fran, you are the sexiest smoker that
I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. One of the things that makes your
smoking look so sexy is the myriad of ways that you exhale your smoke. If
your exhales were less thick and less creamy, they might actually become
downright boring. So please, if we’re ever together again, don’t trade down
on my account.”
“God Phil, I never looked at it that way. Thank you baby for sharing how
you feel.” She replied sincerely.
At this point, I was absolutely certain that Fran would take at least a 10
minute break from smoking, but, being the accomplished pro that she was,
she tapped out a fresh cigarette and I lit it for her, then I fired up one
of my own. Her first few drags were rather weak, but by the time she was
half through with this cigarette, her style had returned to normal.