(by anonymous, 23 February 1998)

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My name is Alexis and this is the story of how I became the smoker I am
today.  First, about myself.

   I smoke menthol More120s.  Always have, always will.  Their taste and style
is all I've ever wanted from a cigarette, and I do indulge in the pleasure of
smoking quite a bit.  I get quite turned on to see both men and women turn
their heads and watch me as I smoke in public.  When I take a deep drag off
my cigarette, I can see the admiration in their eyes.  And when I exhale in
ecstasy, they have the lustful look that I desire.  I have had quite a few
friends and lovers due to my displays.  As far as health concerns, why waste
life on worrying about the inevitable?  If I'm going to die, I'm going to
enjoy the life I have.  I'm a smoker, and I'm never quitting.

   When I was 10, I had grown seeing my Mommy smoke.  My father left us before I
knew him, like I cared, and Mommy never remarried, although she had a few
close encounters.  I was raised in a smoking environment and, due to the
everpresent secondhand smoke, was already used to the smell and feel of
cigarette smoke.  I thought about asking Mommy for just one drag to see what
it was like to actually smoke one, but never got the nerve.  One day Mommy
was doing the daily housework after she came home from work and was in and
out a lot.  Doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, all while having dinner
cook on the stove, that kind of thing.  I was doing chores too once my
homework was done.  So with both of us moving all over the house, she and I
only ran into each other rarely.  She was about halfway through a pack of
menthol More120s and had lit one, but left it sitting in the ashtray because
the washer had stopped.  I was moving through the dining room and saw her
cigarette, ashtray, lighter, and pack sitting on the table.  She had just
left and would be gone for a few minutes.  I went over and picked up her
fresh cigarette (she'd taken a few drags and had already tapped off some
ash), trying to hold it elegantly like Mommy always did.  I did some posing
and prancing, like all little girls do when playing dress-up.  Then I looked
at the cigarette in my hand, so long and brown.  I realized this was my
chance, I could take not just one, but a couple of drags and Mommy would
never know!  So I put it to my lips and gently took a drag.  Warm, kind of
minty-tasting smoke flowed into my mouth and I got excited 'cause I liked the
taste!  I stopped taking the drag since it was my first and pulled the
cigarette away, opened my mouth, and inhaled.  Since I'd only taken a small
drag and I was used to smoke floating through the house, it didn't make me
feel bad at all, but I got a feeling of euphoria nonetheless.  Whether it was
the excitement, the nervousness, or the tobacco, I don't know.  I exhaled a
tiny cloud of smoke and giggled when I saw it, then covered my mouth with my
hand remembering Mommy.  I took another look at the cigarette, tapped off the
ash, the put it to my mouth again.  This time I was going for broke.  I
emptied my mouth of air, the sucked on the cigarette long and hard, turning
the cherry on the end bright orange.  When my mouth was full, I pulled the
cigarette away and snap-inhaled (without realizing it) and DAMN did I get a

   All of the sudden the room swam and my whole body got shaky and wiggly.  I
felt good and bad at the same time and I couldn't see anything.  I grabbed
for the chair to hold myself up and, after a few seconds when my vision
cleared, blew out a long, thick stream of creamy white smoke.  I got so
excited I took another huge drag and (after I got done being dizzy, not as
bad as the first time) exhaled again.  I went for a fourth huge drag and was
exhaling it when I heard Mommy coming.  I hurriedly put the cigarette down
and was about to leave, but I thought what the heck and grabbed a cigarette
out of Mommy's pack.  I put it in my mouth, lit it clumsily, and put the
lighter back and ran shakily, exhaling smoke as I flew.  I went out the door
to the dining room just before Mommy came in from the kitchen and ran to the
bathroom.  I shut the door and locked it, then stood in front of the mirror
and saw my self for the first time with the More in my hand.

   Thinking back now and remembering what I saw turns me on a little, for I was
a pretty little girl in a dress holding a long, brown, LIT cigarette meant
for a grown woman.  I grinned and then tried to look all grown up as I took
my first deep drag off my OWN (even if it was stolen) cigarette.  Seeing the
ash grow, the cherry get bright.  Feeling the smoke fill my mouth then my
lungs with warmth.  Watching the smoke cloud leave my pretty pink lips.  I
loved it.  I was actually smoking and I loved it.  I took another drag just
as Mommy knocked on the bathroom door.

   She told me to unlock the door and I responded with a panicky "just a sec,
Mommy".  I exhaled, threw the cigarette in the toilet, unlocked the door,
then jumped on the toilet seat trying to look like I was supposed to be
there.  She came in with her cigarette in one hand and the ashtray in the
other and stood there, eyeing me.  Then she looked towards the mirror and
when I saw what she was looking at, I got scared.  There was a cloud of smoke
hanging in plain view under the lights above the sink.  She told me to get
up, so I got up and stepped away from the toilet.  She lifted the lid and saw
my just started cigarette in the water.  She sat the lid back down and told
me to sit back down on it.  Then she eyed me as she took a drag off her
cigarette.  After she exhaled, she asked me if I liked it.  I said yes.  She
asked me why I snuck around behind her back and I told her 'cause I didn't
think she'd let me.  She asked me if I'd done it before or if this was the
first and I told her the first.  She looked at me sternly at first then got a
smug look on her face as she took a deep drag on her cigarette.  When she
pulled it away, she did a long French-inhale then exhaled a larger cloud than
I possibly could.  I must've been gawking in amazement because then she
surprised me.  "Do you want to learn how to do that?", she said with what I
know now was a seductive grin.  I timidly said yes.  She asked why and as she
did it again I stammered out that I wanted to be like her.  In a little
girl's words, I told her she was pretty, elegant, confident, sexy, and I
wanted to be like that too.  She finished her exhale, then told me if I was
going to do it, I had to do it all.  I couldn't be timid, or sneaky.  I had
to be able to sit or stand anywhere and smoke as if I was the center of
everything and everyone should watch ME.  I said ok.  She asked me if I
wanted her to teach me, and I excitedly said yes, surprised that she would do
such a thing.  She tapped off her ash and handed me the cigarette and told me
to take the longest, deepest drag I could.  She said I had to start smoking
fully, not taking little bitty drags, and I would become used to the smoke
and be able to "work" it.  I took it and (now that I had permission) took a
huge drag and filled my empty mouth with smoke.  She then told me to pull the
cigarette away and hold the smoke in my mouth, not to inhale.  Then she told
me to push the back of my mouth and tongue forward while "sniffing" with my
nose.  I got a little up my nose and sneezed, blowing away all the smoke I'd
taken.  She laughed and told me it happens and to do it again.  I did, and
this time got almost the whole mouthful inhaled.  My nose didn't hurt this
time because it had been numbed by the smoke.  I exhaled and when the thick
cloud came out I laughed, saying it was fun.  I looked at Mommy and saw a
look of admiration in her eyes.  She smiled and said that's my girl.  She
stood me up and put me in front of the mirror and told me to do it one more
time so I could see.  I did and, thinking back to that memory now, it was so
arousing seeing a little girl in a dress French-inhaling the thick smoke from
a More.  Long blond hair with gentle curls, pink lips, blue dress with white
lace, pink polished fingernails, white slippers, and a long brown More 120 in
hand.  I cherish the thought.

   She took the cigarette from me and I thought that was the end for me.  Then
she led me out of the bathroom to the dining room, sat me down, and handed me
my first (non-stolen) cigarette of my own.  She held out the lighter and lit
it for me, sat and watched as I practiced smoking like a lady.  After about
an hour of practice under her tutelage, I was handling the smoke like a pro.
She made me promise that I wouldn't sneak and I told her why would I sneak if
I could smoke when I wanted to.  She told me that I could only smoke in the
house when no one else was around, otherwise I'd have to get approval from
her first.  I agreed and I've been a devout More smoker ever since.  As much
as I liked it, I would've become a More smoker even if Mommy hadn't let me,
but considering that she got two cartons instead of one so that I had my own
(including my own lighter), I didn't have to worry.  All I had to do was
indulge and enjoy.  ;-)

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