Always Open

(by Filter Watcher, 29 June 2007)


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ALWAYS OPEN
by Filter Watcher

The ragged, one story building looked inconspicuous in the middle of the
desert and despite the fact that it had no signs saying so, I was convinced
that it had to be some kind of fast food joint. A slow breeze was blowing a
handful of lazy dust devils around, while the low morning sun was reflected
off a corner of the tin roof. I parked my car next to a couple of other
battered vehicles and got out to stretch my legs after several hours behind
the wheel. Although I could feel the hunger starting to wreck havoc with my
digestion system, an inner voice warned me to stay clear of the place, but my
curiosity got the better of me, however, and I could almost feel an unseen
force drawing me towards the entrance. I didn't see much through the dirty
glass door, but on the inside a faded cardboard note hanging from a thin
chain declared in bold letters that "We are always open". As I put my hand on
the knob and twisted it, little did I know that my decision to cross that
threshold would change my life forever...

* * * Flashback * * *

I am the only child of a divorced couple. When I was eight years old, my
chain-smoking mom got in a traffic accident and totaled her car. We were
lucky to find out that she got away with only a broken finger and some
bruises, but she never was the same person afterwards. Something serious must
have happened to her head, because when she came home from the hospital, she
made a wow never to touch a cigarette again. Instead she said that she had
found Jesus, and she spent all her spare time doing charity, joining Bible
study groups and participating in so much religious activity that my dad and
I hardly saw her any more.

I was too young to understand all of what was going on, but the situation
obviously put a lot of strain on my dad. After a couple of years he couldn't
take it any more, so he left us and relocated from San Francisco to Chicago,
where he eventually remarried. In the beginning he often talked to me on the
telephone, but as the years went by, his calls became more and more rare, and
by the time I graduated from high school he only contacted me for Christmas
and my birthday.

So I practically grew up without a father figure in my life and my mom taught
me that smoking, drinking, cussing, gossiping and extramarital sex was
prohibited if I wanted to be a good Christian and reach heaven when I died.

I knew that I had to obey her to stay out of trouble, so I directed my energy
towards studies, books and music. Mom wouldn't let me participate in sports,
because she claimed that "it would lead me onto the broad way to doom and
destruction".

Therefore I mostly stayed home after school, and focused on classical piano
and languages. I soon mastered German and switched to French, which I found
much more difficult. After a while I was bored to death with Beethoven and
Brahms, and my first piano lessons came to a grinding halt when my music
teacher - an old fashioned lady with very conservative opinions - tore up the
sheets to I Am Sailing, which I had given her to include a modern tune in the
strictly classical repertoire. Instead I found a younger teacher who shared
my interests in music. He taught me some more piano before we agreed to try
the drum kit. But when he wanted me to form a band with three other boys, my
mom intervened and put a temporary end to my musical career altogether.

During my high school years I dated several girls. All of them were good
looking, had nice manners and came from a similar background as myself. It
goes without saying that none of them smoked and that we never reached second
base.

My longest relationship was with a girl a few years older then me and since
she was very talented in music, we had something in common. For the first
time I had a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of me and I was very happy that I had
a girlfriend. She lived only a mile away and I would often walk over to her
house. We stayed together until one day when I noticed that something was
wrong and asked her about it. With tearful eyes she told me that her mom had
decided that I was too young and immature for her. There wasn't much of
anything we could do about it, so we broke up. I have to admit that I cried
openly, because I was so heartbroken.

My mom came to my rescue and took me to a car dealer, where she bought me a
second hand Ford LTD, although I didn't feel that it had much Luxury Trim
Décor left by the time I took it over. After I got my provisional driving
permit, this car became my new passion, but I had to promise not to stay out
late at night or use it to frequent doubtful places and individuals.

As the end of my final high school year was quickly approaching, mom and I
started to make plans for college, but just after my graduation, fate had
another dirty trick up its sleeve. It turned out that my mom had become
romantically involved with a slick preacher who was eloquent and seductive,
but at the same time narcissistic, jealous, manipulating and judgmental. Her
conflicting feelings for this man was more than her already frail mind could
bear and after growing steadily worse, she finally died at the psychiatric
institution where she had been taken.

I was devastated and I now felt completely alone in the world. I had my dad
in Chicago, but I hadn't seen him for so many years that I almost considered
him a total stranger. Nevertheless, my only choice was to stay with him and
his new wife, to try to sort out my life in completely new surroundings. He
didn't feel it appropriate to attend to the funeral, but the next day he
called me. He asked if he should send me a plane ticket, but I insisted on
driving there in my own car and at my own pace.

The sun had already set when I left San Francisco and headed east. For some
reason I had always wanted to see Yosemite National Park, so I almost
unconsciously drove in that direction. When I reached the valley, it had
grown dark and I was tired, so I parked the Ford beside the narrow road just
opposite El Capitan, reclined my seat and prepared myself for a good night's
sleep. But before an hour had gone by I was abruptly woken up when a huge
lumber truck passed me in a heck of a speed. The ground vibrated and my car
shook violently. I tried to relax after this brutal awakening, settled in
again and closed my eyes. Then the same thing happened again, and again, and
again...

I quickly understood that the only sensible thing to do was to leave that
road - which the lumber trucks apparently had turned into a nightly rally
track - and I drove up to the Yosemite Lodge, but the dining rooms didn't
open for several hours yet. I went back to the Ford and sat down behind the
wheel. I was tired and hungry, I had just lost my mom and I was on my way to
meet a dad that I barely knew. And what if I didn't hit it off well with my
step mom? To calm my nerves I started driving again and it didn't take me
long to leave the valley. Although I had been foolish enough not to bring a
road map, luckily I have a built-in compass in my head, so I knew roughly
where to turn in all the junctions.

As the sun came up, a sign told me that I had entered Nevada. Not long
afterwards I spotted a place that looked like it would be able to quench my
hunger. An egg sandwich or a burger menu would do wonders; I remember
thinking to myself as I opened the glass door and tried to orientate myself
in the dark interior.

The first thing I noticed was a strong smell of tobacco smoke which
immediately made me close my eyes and forced me to cough. I had never spent
much time around smokers, so I was completely unprepared for this unpleasant
surprise. Even before I could clear my throat and lungs someone started
laughing and more female voices joined in. I straightened my back, blinked my
eyes a few times and then opened them carefully. In front of me was a
counter, while a handful of women in their early twenties were seated around
some tables to my left. They had stopped laughing, but they continued to
stare at me. All of them were smoking.

I thought that maybe it had been a mistake coming here, so I turned around
and I was about to take my first step towards the door when the most raspy
and cracked voice I had ever heard broke the heavy, sour-tasting silence in
the room.

"How may I help you, kid?"

I turned my head and the rest of my body followed the movement. The owner of
the hoarse vocal cords turned out to be a woman in her mid forties. Although
she seemed somewhat matronly, she was well dressed and I couldn't spot any
excess weight anywhere. I also noticed that she had very elegant looking
brown hair that shimmered of golden stripes.

But the image of her otherwise picture perfect face was marred by an unlit
cigar hanging down from the side of her lips. She must have realized that she
had given me quite a shock, because she managed to smile beside the cigar and
her eyes were beaming.

I stammered something stupid while she lit the cigar with a wooden match and
then gestured at a teak box that rested on a Plexiglas table for me to help
myself, but I told her that I didn't smoke.

Untouched by her hands, the cigar traveled to the opposite corner of her
mouth where she took another puff from it, drew out some smoke rings and blew
them up towards the low ceiling before asking me if I wanted company for an
hour or so.

"Sorry, but my mom told me never to date smokers. I only came here to grab a
bite, but it seems to be the wrong place for that."

She laughed and ran her hands through her hair. I could also hear more
snickering from the tables in the corner.

"Breakfast? Well, if that's what's on your mind, then you're definitely in
the wrong place. Let me tell you something, son. This is a legal house of
prostitution according to Nevada law and the only thing I can offer you is
liquor and pussy, but not necessarily in that order! Come on, loosen up a
little! The first drink is on the house."

I knew that I had reached a watershed and I don't mean it in the literal
sense. I'm fully aware that the Continental Divide is situated well to the
east of Nevada, but the metaphor fitted perfectly in my life right there and
then. Here I was; a virgin from San Francisco who had never tasted alcohol in
my life. And worse, I was under the legal drinking age. What if the old hag
was setting a trap for me? But on the other hand I was afraid that if I
turned down her offer, I would feel like a coward. Would I ever be able to
look at myself in the mirror the same way as before if I walked away from her
challenge? Surely one beer couldn't hurt me that much?

"OK, what the heck," I heard myself say as I crossed over the invisible line.
"I'll take a Budweiser!"

"That's my boy," she cackled and tried to force her smiling face into a
serious expression, but she didn't quite succeed.

She waved me to take a seat and I placed my butt across from the
youngest-looking girl. 

I just sat there until she said: "You look so young. How old are you?"

"If I say that I'm 25 - then what?"

She didn't answer right away, just poured some sugar in her coffee and I
could see her lips silently counting the cubes while she did so. She stopped
at 10. Metal clinked against porcelain as she stirred around in the mug and I
stared in awe at how elegantly the fingers of her right hand were handling
the spoon and the cigarette simultaneously. 

Then she smiled and said: "I know what you are."

"And what would that be?"

"Definitely not a man who wants to have sex with other men!"

Totally unprepared for such a statement I looked closer at her. Presumptuous
lipstick surrounded her cigarette each time she brought it up to her mouth
and left it there. Otherwise she wore minimal make-up, only a thin, black
trail around her sparkling green eyes. She had long, red-painted nails, and
her deep olive-toned skin was flawless. She had put on a pink cotton blouse
and a trendy, black mini skirt. Black suede sandals showed off a magnificent
pedicure and what seemed to be a small tattoo on the inside of her left calf,
but from that distance I could not discern what it was, and I found that
mesmerizing.

"I know what you are thinking," she said suddenly.

I caught a glimpse of a demure grin as my eyes returned to her face and to
this day I clearly remember how perfectly her lips encircled the cigarette as
her fingers let go of it again. 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. It's not a tattoo."

"It's not?" 

"No." She shifted her endless legs, brushing the outside of my thigh as she
did so. By accident? I guessed not. I was bold enough to take hold of her
sandal to steady her foot, glanced down and saw that she was telling me the
truth. Up close it turned out not to be a tattoo after all, but a dark,
jagged and rather ugly scar.

"Funny, it looked just like..." 

"Yeah. I know." 

"You probably hear that a lot, don't you?"

I glanced at her face, much safer now when we had begun a conversation. 

"Yes." 

I reluctantly let go of her foot and she gently lowered her leg back to the
floor. 

I looked at her face again. Her seemingly natural colored hair was brown and
hung loose way down past her shoulder blades. It tended to get in her eyes
and face, so she had a habit of tucking it behind her ears all the time.
Suddenly I noticed that she had rings on every finger, even on her thumbs,
but my eye immediately wandered back from the rings to her cigarette. With a
shock I realized that I found her extremely sexy. But I had to ask myself
what in the world it really was that was so enticing about this girl. Did it
have something to do with her smoking?

I decided to ask her why she smoked. 

"I started 'cause I thought it was cool and also because I was permanently
stressed. Now I smoke more than two packs a day because I'm hopelessly
addicted. But I am a vegetarian and I work out regularly to keep my body in
good shape!"

The cigar smoker interrupted our conversation when she arrived with my beer.
She opened the bottle and placed it on the table in front of me. I raised it
to my lips and took a careful sip from the ice cold brew. I was pleased to
find out that I really enjoyed the taste of my first beer ever and now I
understood why my friends drank it at every opportunity.

The girl looked up from her coffee as the other woman stubbed the remains of
her cigar into the ash tray on the bar, then took a pack of cigarettes from a
handbag and lit one. The older woman took a long drag and when she noticed
that I had already emptied my beer, she left the cigarette to smolder in the
tray and asked if I'd like another one. I said "yes" and she waited while I
got up, went over to the counter and pulled some cash from my pocket to see
what I had with me.

"Here's a fifty, I hope that you can break it!"

She smiled cunningly again and said: "What if I keep the fifty and offer you
the girl along with as many drinks as you want? Does that sound like a fair
deal to you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I resigned as she flashed the bank note to the girl.

"Donna, you're in business!"

Up to that point in my life I had hated being near smokers, but as the girl
lit another cigarette, I found myself watching her - intently - and for the
first time I sensed something sultry in the way a woman took a drag, inhaled
and blew the smoke out. Donna inhaled again, more deeply this time, exhaled
slowly and my eyes followed the trail of blue smoke rise to the ceiling. She
then rose from the table, grabbed her cigarette pack and lighter, and drew
herself to the full height of six feet one before she placed the cigarette in
her mouth - where it perched with its orange glow flickering as she continued
sucking on it - and started to walk towards me.

I let my eyes - unbidden by my mind - wander over her unusually tall body and
my glance was first drawn to the tight buttocks so wonderfully outlined by
her black skirt. But when her tongue started to toy with the dangling
cigarette as she walked, I found an even sexier focus point. Donna noticed my
interest and kept smiling as her cheeks hollowed inward, the tip of her
cigarette glowed orange, and a trail of smoke drifted up along her gorgeous
face.

She finally removed the cigarette and asked: "Do you like what you see?"
before she turned her head slightly to blow a long, thick stream of smoke
sideways.

"Yeah, but..."

Before I could continue she smiled and brought the cigarette back to her
lips. I watched her cheeks hollow again before she opened her mouth to show
me a ball of smoke so thick that it looked almost solid. Then - in an instant
- it had vanished down her throat and many seconds later twin streams jetted
out of her nostrils.

Donna showed me another ear to ear grin and said: "Now, how was that?" 

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound was made. All I could do was
stare foolishly at her.

She grabbed my hand and it sent a chill through me when she pulled me -
stunned - over the threshold to the next room, which was a long, narrow
corridor with many doors on each side. Donna opened one of the doors and
asked me to enter. The bedroom was small, with a tiny bathroom attached.  I
went directly into the bathroom to relieve myself and have a quick shower.
When I returned, she was lying face down on the bed. Her clothes were draped
nicely over the back of a chair and a new thrill shot through me when I
noticed that her panties were on top. Donna had the smoothest skin I'd ever
seen and the white bikini strap lines on her toned back only added to her
allure.  She reached up with her hands and pulled me down to her. We kissed
slowly and to my great surprise I quickly found out that I loved the way her
mouth and breath tasted of cigarettes.  Donna took a long, slow draw and I
noticed how much she savored the sensation of the hot smoke in her young
lungs. A moment later she exhaled a blue plume that surrounded her in the
dim, yellow light. The smell of smoke mixed with the scent of her perfume
until it became as intoxicating as her naked presence.  Why was I so obsessed
with her? I asked myself. Why had I become so incredibly drawn to this girl
who I had met less than an hour ago, who didn't mean anything to me and who I
had even paid to be with? What about her - apart from the fact that she was
strikingly beautiful - attracted me so much? Was it the fragrance of her
perfume, the glow in her hair or the light in her big, green eyes? No, none
of the above, I concluded. The only reason why I felt so strongly for her was
that she smoked. I had to admit that the sight of a burning cigarette between
her lips and smoke coming out of her nostrils turned me on like nothing
before in my life had ever done.  Donna kissed me on the mouth again, while
she used her finger tips to toy with my nipples. As she pushed her tongue
between my lips, the cigarette danced between her fingers when she ran them
down my body and I felt her long, manicured nails slide across my skin.

She kissed my left shoulder, continued to play with my right nipple and moved
her left hand to my manhood. Donna slowly massaged my member, stroked it and
deliberately tried to arouse me while smoking casually with long, streaming
exhales. Her delicate touch was simply too much for me. Every inch of my body
responded with a jolt and I began to experience the stirrings of an erection.
For the first time in my life my member was throbbing with desire and
pleasure.

My lips drifted around her neck until they found one of her unadorned ears.
Her skin was so wonderfully supple and the contact between hers and mine was
electric. Donna cooed softly as I nibbled her naked lobe, while the muscles
on her thighs were firm and yet delicate under my fingers. Her cigarette-free
hand rounded my body and groped at my ass. Soon I was on top of her and two
delicious tits were mine to explore. As I started to work one of them with my
tongue, I parted her vaginal lips with one hand and stroked her clit softly
with the other. Even though nobody had taught me this, the right movements
seemed to come naturally to me when I raked her left tit with my
inexperienced teeth and my novice fingers found their way deeper and deeper
into her cunt.

I looked up and smiled at her. Donna moaned with satisfaction, then laughed
and took a deep drag of her cigarette, turning her head as she exhaled, and
gave me one more quick smoky kiss. Then she moved her body around and after
having taken several long draws of her cigarette‚ she engulfed my cock in her
smoke filled mouth. Her tongue started to swirl around the tip of my dick
while she jacked the base of my shaft in rhythm with her mouth movements.
Placing the cigarette between her lips again to free both hands for her task,
she squeezed my testicles with one hand and rubbed my cock with the other.
She inhaled hands free and exhaled from her nose. With the cigarette dangling
she used both hands to expose my sensitive glans.

Without being able to take my excited eyes away from the cigarette which was
still clamped tightly between her bright red lips, I continued to play with
her pussy and at the same time I licked her full, young breast, caressing its
roundness until it stood up erect. I enjoyed the feeling of her hard nipple
as I rolled and pinched it carefully between my fingers. Her magnificent
breast felt so good and I continued to hold it, caress it and excite it. The
cigarette kept burning in her mouth as Donna inhaled again and very sexily
exhaled. When she finally removed the half smoked cigarette from her lips,
she bowed her head slightly so that her long, brown hair fell forward on my
stomach and tickled my skin delightfully.

At her coaching I licked my way down her body from her tit. I kissed her soft
stomach and then slipped my tongue into the small cavity beside her navel
piercing. It was the first of its kind that I had ever seen, because most
females only pierced their ears in those days. Donna spread her thighs, and
she had me kiss and lick her belly button and the small metal bulbs until she
squirmed and I was salivating. My face was now so close to her cunt that I
started to feel the exciting scent of her sex. 

In the soft light her vagina looked like a pink flower whose curly pubic hair
framed the rosy core. I could wait no longer, and I gently slid my tongue out
and licked my very first cunt. Her juice was slightly salty, but none the
less delicious. I licked again and again. As I sucked gently, I could hear
her moan and gasp with pleasure through the shrinking cigarette as her hips
thrust upward and she started clawing at my back.

Then she guided my throbbing member to her opening and pushed the head in.
For the first time my dick felt the tightness of a pussy. Our eyes met and we
hugged each other tightly as Donna took another hands free drag from her
cigarette and blew smoke my way. The feeling of my dick inside her juicy
pussy was incredibly hot and I had never imagined that it would be so fucking
awesome to lose my virginity!

As the climax began to hit her, she spasmed again, and took deeper and deeper
drags. Finally I reached my first orgasm at almost the same time. Donna took
one final drag on her almost spent cigarette, exhaled upward and then glanced
smugly at me. Looking at her cigarette, she took another from the pack and
lit it from the dying butt before she put it out in the ashtray on the
bedside table.

I couldn't help but think how very sexy Donna looked as she inhaled and blew
the smoke towards me through her lovely red lips. Time and again I stared at
the cigarette as she inhaled the smoke and sexily exhaled it through her nose
with the cigarette still in between her lips. I had never - not even in my
wildest fantasies - thought that I would associate lust with a smoking woman,
but from that day on those two concepts have been inseparable in my mind.

Somehow I sensed that it was time to leave, so I decided to take a quick
shower again. But before I had even turned on the water, I felt her hand on
my hip. We washed each other and she was paying a lot of attention to my
dick. We spent half an hour playing together before I swatted her behind with
a towel, and the beautiful sex goddess quickly grabbed it away from me and
returned the favor.

Before we got dressed she lit up another cigarette and held it between her
fingers as she hugged me tight. Donna took a deep drag and smiled as she put
on her clothes, then removed the cigarette and coolly blew several smoke
rings before she briefly touched my hand and quietly slipped out the door
without a word of farewell.

Dumbfounded, I followed her into the main room on trembling legs. The last
couple of hours had been a profoundly shaking experience, but also the most
memorable moment in my young life. I tried to regain my composure and sum up
what had really happened. My first - and totally unexpected - sexual liaison
should have been enough to occupy my thoughts for many days, but new sexy,
smoking fantasies had already started to take shape in my mind. Many years
later I would find out that my newfound wonderful feelings are called "a
smoking fetish" and that this condition - in various degrees - is shared by
about 17 percent or one sixth of the adult male population, according to the
statistics. But there and then I felt like a freak that had violated my mom's
explicit wishes. I was sure that she must be very disappointed in me now if
she could see me from her new home up above...

As Donna sat down at the same table as before and lit up another cigarette, I
was approached by the older woman, who was smoking one of her cigars again.
She opened her mouth and said something, but my brain wasn't able to discern
her final message until I was back in my car, out on the highway and well on
the way to Chicago.

Now - many years later - I don't recall it exactly, but it must have sounded
something like this: "I hope that we've given you a fine time, mister. You
are more than welcome back and don't forget that we are always open!"


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