Teen Wedding, Part 5

Teen Wedding
Part 5

By the end of the week, Margie felt like a human pincushion and ashtray.  She
had heard stories about the raging hormones of young teenage boys all her
life, but thought they were exaggerations.  The stories were true, Tommy's
young body craved sex.  During their week in Atlanta, they made love no less
than eight times a day.  She wasn't complaining because she thoroughly enjoyed
it, but doubted her ability to keep up with his pace.

On the way back to Dothan, Margie smoked without rolling down the window.  Why
should she?  She never rolled down the windows before.  The air from the car
had a way of messing up her hair.  It also made conversations and the radio
difficult to hear.  Besides, Tommy never complained.

Margie had promised Tommy's mother that they would visit them the minute they
got back to Dothan.  When they pulled up the driveway, Robert was pushing the
mower and Connie was weeding the flower garden.

Connie walked toward them as Tommy emerged from car looking older and wiser
than he did just a week earlier.  She took him in his arms and hugged him.
Even though she smoked, she could smell the odor of stale tobacco permeating
from her son's clothes.  "Have you been smoking?" she asked.

"Mom", whined Tommy.

"Its my fault Connie.  I didn't roll down the window."

"Well I guess that explains it", said Connie.  "Well come on in.  Robert and I
have been thinking about you two all week.  We want to hear all about it."

Tommy sat down on the couch next to his wife, across the coffee table from his
mother and father. As his wife and mother smoked and talked, Tommy took a
couple Atlanta T-shirts out of a large paper bag and put them on the coffee
table for his parents.

"Can I talk to you outside?" asked his father.

Tommy got up and followed his father out the front door.

"Well, did it all work out like we talked about?  Any problems?"

Tommy smiled and kicked the grass with his shoe.  "It was great Dad.  You were
right.  Every thing just fell in place."

Robert grinned proudly and rubbed his son's head.  "You don't have to tell me
this, but did Margie smoke while the two of you were having sex?"

Tommy laughed.  "Are you kidding?  The only time she didn't smoke was when we
were on the elevator.  She told me she's smoking five packs a day now!"

Robert's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.  "Five packs a day?  You're
kidding, right?"

While the men compared notes outside, Margie and Connie had an honest
conversation in the living room.

"Tommy looks happy," said Connie.  "You two must have had a really good time."

Margie nodded as she lit another cigarette.  "Your son wore me out Connie.  My
thighs are so chafed I can hardly walk."

"And I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?" giggled Connie.  "So tell me.  How
did Tommy do?"

"Connie, we're talking about your son, not some cook at the Waffle House!"

"Well you're the one who started it when you said he wore you out.  Don't
leave me hanging.  Finish it."

"It was wonderful Connie, but it was so weird.  I felt so old when we were
naked.  And the looks we got when people saw us holding hands or when he lit
my cigarettes.  It was very awkward at first."

"How did he do with your smoking"?

Margie exhaled a huge plume of menthol smoke and smiled.  "You did a wonderful
job of raising him to be tolerant and understanding.  I smoked constantly and
he never complained or nagged one bit, not even when I told him that I'm up to
five packs a day."

"You're smoking five packs a day?"

Margie nodded and took another puff.  "I can't help it.  Something snapped
before the wedding and I started smoking more because of the stress and I just
can't seem to cut down."

"Excuse me for asking, but how did you find time for sex if you were smoking
that much."

Margie smiled.  "It was wonderful Connie.  Tommy made love to me while I
smoked.  If you and Robert have never tried it, you might want to think about
it."

Connie did think about it.  She thought about it all day.  That night she
asked Robert if he'd like to go to bed early.  They say practice makes
perfect.  It wasn't long before Connie was smoking three packs a day and going
to bed early every other night.

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