What friends are for

What friends are for

The rain continued to pour relentlessly down from the depths of a leaden 
sky as I summoned up courage for the countless time to leave my car, walk 
over to the house and simply knock on the door. It wasn`t as if I didn`t 
know her. 

My wife Sue and I had been friends with Pauline and Mick for many years but 
the alterior motive for visiting her on this occasion caused my heart to 
pulsate like a trip hammer. 

In the past, Pauline had always been someone with whom I could hold a 
relaxing, no holes barred conversation with on almost any subject. How she 
would react when I presented her with the details of my current fixation 
however, only time would tell. 

I knew without any doubt that Mick worked late on Thursday evenings and 
with the kids out at there weekly rollerblading classes, the stage was 
conveniently set. 

Swallowing deeply, I hauled myself from the car and sprinted the few metres 
over to the house, sheilding myself from the driving rain as best I could. 

A single ring on the bell brought her to the door. 

"Hello" she chirped in that delightful Shropshire accent of hers. "Come in, 
coffee O.K." 

I drifted into the lounge and sank into my favourite of easy chairs whilst 
Pauline prepared the drinks. 

After exchanging niceties about each others family activities, the moment 
finally arrived. Pauline put down her cup and reached for her cigerettes. 

I knew the routine so well. 

"Do you want one " she enquired extending the pack to me. She knew full 
well that I hardly ever smoked and yet she always made the offer. 

I decided on this occasion to accept. Leaning across to her for a light, 
she must have noticed the mild shaking of my hand. 

"Is anything wrong " she asked as she touched the flame of her lighter to 
the cigerette. 

The perfect oppertunity. It was time to take the plunge. 

"Do you know anything about fetishes" I whispered nervously. 

Pauline cast me a rather quizical look as if she suddenly feared where the 
topic of conversation might be leading. 

"A little" she replied weakly, "it all depends on what type". 

"Please hear me out " I stammered "and if what I say offends you, then I`ll 
leave right now and we can both forget about the whole thing but IŽve 
always felt that we could talk on most subjects without fear of 
embaressment and I don`t see why this little secret of mine should be an 
exception. 

This statement seemed to relax her somewhat and after taking a drag on her 
cigerette and executing a perfect french inhale, she settled down to here 
my confession. 

I waded straight in by explaining to her that I had a smoking fetish 
whereby I became sexually turned on by watching pretty women (such as 
herself I shrewdly decided to slip in) smoke and that some day ( casting my 
eyes thearetically to the heavens) I dreamed of kissing a woman whilst she 
had a mouthfull of smoke. 

There. I`d said it. 

I waited patiently for a response. Pauline appeared to be digesting what I 
had just revealed to her and for a full minute she said nothing. 

Eventually I could stand it no longer. I sprang up from the chair. "I`m 
really sorry Pauline, I think I`d better leave". 

"Don`t be silly" she exclaimed, gently pushing me back in the chair. "You 
want to do it with me is that what you`re suggesting"? 

I was struck dumb by her words. All I could do was nod my head feebly. 

"Come on then" she whispered in an uncharacteristically husky voice. 

She fluffed up the cushions on the sofa and within a trice I was seated 
beside her. 

My heart was beating wildly. 

She slowly placed the cigerette between her lips. 

By now the cigerette was over half smoked so I therefore anticipated the 
smoke to be richer and thicker in density. 

Her drag lasted for what seemed to me like an eternity consuming a full 
three millimetres of the length. 

My manhood was throbbing mercilessly within my jeans. She finally withdrew 
the cigerette from her mouth. Her eyes were closed. This was it. 

As I gently looped an arm around her neck and drew her towards me, her lips 
parted to receive my kiss and a thick coil of smoke began to curl out from 
beneath her upper lip. 

Within an instant however, my lips were covering hers and I could taste and 
feel the sweet flavour of the smoke as it drifted into my mouth. 

The kiss lasted a full minute or so in which time my overburdened penis 
finally gave up under the strain and relinquished its contents. 

We shared another cigerette together and after another coffee, we parted as 
if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. 

Sue and I paid a visit some days later to collect some videos and the only 
reference to that wonderfully rewarding evening was that the first time 
Pauline lit up, she threw me a wickedly mischievous wink.