Always Tomorrow

(by Clytissa, 22 November 2005)

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Always tomorrow


Watching the blonde was the best, he thought. She had a generous red mouth and
as she dragged on the cigarette her lips sealed around it and she hollowed her
cheeks as she pulled in the smoke. Then she held it for a few seconds, and he
felt his cock swell as she tipped her head back and exhaled a long thick
plume. It was classic smoking, and he could watch it for hours. He had been
here half an hour and she was just finishing her third cigarette. Although she
wasn't exactly chaining them down she looked like she needed the nicotine.

He wasn't complaining. The band was OK, but not great; and besides, he loved
to watch women smoke.  The brunette was over on the far side, and if he turned
his head a little he could see her. She was only just starting her second, but
she was good on technique. She was smoking an all white; he liked that. She
was one of those ladies who play with the smoke, and he liked that too. His
cock throbbed pleasantly as he watched her take in a mouthful of smoke, then
let some out and take it in again via her nose. Lovely.

He admired women who could do that special inhale, that circular breathing; he
liked to play with the smoke himself too. But on points; if he had to choose?
He would have to go with the blonde, because when you got down to it, the need
had to be satisfied; it was all about feeding the craving. And that woman
needed it; you could see that, in the long plumes she let glide toward the
ceiling, in the deep drags she was taking every few seconds.

His cock had been pleasantly hard for half an hour, and that was part of the
good feeling. Women had always attracted him when they smoked; he understood
why, for all men like a bad girl in their life now and again. But he also
loved the moves that went with smoking; the soft lips closing around the
filter, the head tipping back to exhale the plumes, streams, ribbon of smoke;
the cheeks shadowing as the smoke was pulled in. He could imagine the smoke
going down to the lungs, filling them, cooling down, being reluctantly exhaled
so as to make room for more; those 10 good drags one gets from a cigarette,
and then the whole show starting up again in an hour or so.
Tim could feel his own nicotine craving building. He was a practised man; he
had smoked in his younger days, working his way through cigars, pipes, and
strange dark French cigarettes; then he had settled down to being a pack-a-day
Marlboro man; but the anti smoking lobby got to him in the end and he managed
to stop. Almost. He needed one...just one...cigarette a day, and at night
time, he'd open up the little tin he kept and take out one Marlboro red. He
supposed this was the nearest he'd ever get to quitting, but for ten years it
had been his thoroughly enjoyable habit, and he thought he'd done pretty well.

Next to him, Maggie shifted as he put his hand in his jacket. He gave her a
little smile, to convey mild embarrassment at what she lightly termed his
crutch; she'd never demanded he stop, although, like most women these days,
she worried about lung cancer. But she knew, and she understood; as much as a
reformed chain smoker could. They'd been together for five years now and he
often wondered how his smoking hadn't got her back onto the lung candy
herself; apparently she had been up to sixty a day and it had taken a lot of
nicotine gum to quit; but she said she just didn't want to start again. Thus,
tonight's excursion to a band they'd both liked in the 80's (and who really
should have paid their tax bill so they didn't need to be trotted out on stage
again) was a rare trip to a smoky venue. He didn't want her tempted if she
wanted to avoid it. But it seemed that she could handle it OK. And at home he
always smoked outside.

Tim took out his cigarette and lit up, feeling the craving peak as he dragged
down the first lungful. Ah, that was good. He smiled as the rush hit him; it
sometimes made him a bit dizzy but that was all to the good. He leaned back,
exhaling his own plume slowly, feeling the warm smoke leave his lungs as his
body called out for another dose. His heart beat faster and he thought of the
9 good drags this little bit of heaven had in store for him.

The blonde lit up again and dragged her smoke in deep.  Tim watched her as she
sucked it down, and let out a cloud just like his. He wondered idly if he'd
ever go out with a smoking woman again; they could play with the smoke,
compete for the biggest drag, all that fun competitive stuff. He'd had that
with a couple of women; he realised he missed it. But Maggie was worth it. He
could always watch women smoke, anyway.

He turned slightly to see what the brunette was up to and saw his reflection
in the bar mirror. He could see Maggie, too. Odd. She seemed to be watching
him. He turned to her but she was looking away. Oh well. He turned his head
back to look for the brunette and saw her start up one of her whites again,
the contrast pleasant against her tan skin and dark eyes. He took another drag
himself as he watched her blow out a gentle plume that disappeared up her
nose. He decided he'd try it himself; why not? As he finished his exhale he
let a small thin stream go, and he managed to sniff it back in. Nice. He
should really play more, he thought.

Another glance at the blonde, who seemed to have finished for now. Eyes back
to the brunette; and there again, as he glanced past the bar mirror, he could
see Maggie was watching him, not obviously, but she had her eye on him. He
took another drag, wondering what she was looking at, and plumed out the smoke
as he thought about it.

And then he realised. She was watching him. She, Maggie, was watching him
smoke. And she didn't want him to see.

His cock, still hard, twitched strongly. He suspected immediately why she was
watching. She wanted to watch him smoke, just like he wanted to watch women.
"Oh, Maggie," he thought, "Maggie... You could have told me."

But could she? He thought about it. He hadn't exactly marched up to the
brunette and told her he liked her show: and the blonde wouldn't know, and
none of the women he'd gazed surreptitiously at over the years had ever known.
He knew that he had what the psychologists and websites called a fetish. And
you didn't advertise that you had one; you just lived with it, and if you were
fortunate, you domesticated it and even loved it, because if anything could
give Tim a rock hard cock without fail, it was the sight of a woman dragging
it in deep.

And it seemed Maggie had it too. For him.

His cock was really calling attention to itself now.  It was straining at his
zip, wanting to loose what was building up to be a heavy load. He wondered how
he'd keep it in. His cigarette was only half finished, and Maggie, he
realised, was glancing at him almost continuously now. He decided to give her
a good show, and took in a long, direct drag. He didn't often do that; he knew
it was a good way to burn your lungs out, but he had to see what she liked.
He held the smoke in, keeping tabs on her in the mirror: she was watching with
her mouth slightly open. He held on a little longer, then let it out long and
strong. He saw her eyes widen. Good, she liked that. Score one for holding it
in. Nice; he liked that in women too.  Now to play a little. He repeated his
smoke up the nose trick and saw her smile a touch. OK, that worked too.

He tried a smoke ring, which failed, but that made her smile too. But she
didn't seem to get off on that as much as she had on his exhales.
Uncharacteristically for him, for he really was a health conscious man, he
barrelled in the last 3 drags with strong direct inhales, each of which he
held, and then let out slowly and thickly. It was a good show. Blonde
territory, he thought; and what would Maggie make of that? His cock was giving
him beautiful hell; he decided to deal with that first, then take his woman
home, and maybe even smoke a little more for her.

Coming out of the toilets, spent, feeling good, he bent to her and murmured
into her ear, "Want to go, honey?" She nodded, got up: the band definitely
belonged in the past, and they moved out to the car.

In bed. Maggie was turned on, wet already, as he touched her, ready for his
cock. He knew why. He was hard again just thinking about it. Not ready to talk
to her about it just yet though. He took her, hard and deep, instead, feeling
her come around his shaft, knowing why.

In the morning; a lovely sunny Sunday. He came upon her in the living room,
reading the papers, looking sleepy and happy. He smiled as he saw her; she was
a lovely woman, just on forty, fair, a rounded figure with beautiful large
soft breasts and long legs. He was taller than her five and a half feet; a
long body, wide shoulders, thick black hair; they made an attractive couple.
He sat down on the floor next to her and put his head on her knees.



"Maggie honey, I want to talk with you."

"Sure honey, what is it?"

"About last night."

"Yes?" She sat up a bit at that; he knew at once she had an idea of what he
wanted to say to her.

"Honey - I have something to tell you."

"Tim, it's OK."


"Honey,I know, I've always known; you like watching women smoke. I can even
tell you what kinds of women you like to watch. It's OK."

He nodded. He understood, somewhat. It was a bit of a shock, though, coming
like that. He realised she must have known for a while.

"Was it that obvious?"

"No, you didn't stare; you'd just glance; unless, like last night,
the blonde; she was far away and you could look at her. And honey, I know
something else too; you like to watch; I mean, really, really, like it."

Maggie was blushing, he nodded again, and kissed her hand. 

"You're right, darling; it's something I adore-.  OK, I'll say it for you, I
get off on it.  I'm sorry, love; I just always have. It's no reflection on

"I know," she said. "I've always known it from the first time we went out. I
worried a bit about it though - but then...well..."

She tailed off. She was looking past him, and he realised there was a lot she
simply couldn't say. He felt sympathy for her; he knew what she was going
through. Good old society, he thought, shut the weirdo fetishists out;
marginalise the poor devils; how many weirdos are there anyway? Two, here, at
least; thousands more, maybe. None of them doing any harm but all desperate to
be understood. Maggie, I can do this for you, anyway.

"Maggie honey, I think I know what you want to say.  I'm so glad you are
taking it well... I love you for that, and everything you are... all of
you...good bits and bad." Her eyes flashed as she smiled at him.

"You sweetie, Tim, saying that; I know what you're building up to, but say it
for me, please?"

"OK babe. I have a smoking fetish...that's what they call it - you've heard
the word?"

"Yes. I know its meaning. You like to watch women smoke."

"And, honey, I think you like to watch me do it too."

He stood up, went to her, and put his arms around her, for she was starting to
cry a little.

"Sweetie, it's's OK. I only figured it out last night when I caught
you watching me. And it's OK, really it is; I know just how you feel."

"How is that?" Tears were still in her eyes.

"Turned on, sweetie; turned on.  Like I get. Like you were last night when I
got you home; ready to go. You were hot for me."

"So were you," she said, sounding flirtatious.

"Ah, but I was better there."

"How so?" Yes, Maggie was definitely getting ready for him.

"I got horny as hell watching the blonde...and the brunette too, did you know
about her? I suppose you did!  But when I figured you were watching me..oh
boy.  Honey, I almost lost it in my pants. Knowing you were getting off on it
too; baby, that is so hot. Hon, you got to me so bad I had to take it out on
the porcelain.  And when I got you home and found you wet and hot, and I knew
why; honey, it was fucking magical."

Their eyes were wide as they looked at each other.  "I always felt bad,
darling," said Tim, "taking you out to smoky bars and having my one Marlboro;
and if you'd ever said no I would have stopped. But I still wonder why; how
long have you been watching me? And didn't you ever want to start up again?"

She put her arm around him, and he rested his head on her shoulder. They were
both half lying down on the couch now, warm in each other's arms. His cock was
nicely aroused, and she put her hand over it, stroking it gently. 

"I watch you because you smoke so well," she said.  "It's only one, but you
need it and it shows. You take it in so thoroughly and you enjoy it; you use
every bit of the smoke, and it means a lot to you. I like it when you play,
sometimes; you never could get smoke rings sorted, but you tried; that's funny
to see."

"But the best thing you do; and you did it last night, and I think I knew then
that you had seen me; those big drags at the end? That is what I love to see
in a man; the hollowing, the dragging; God, does that ever do it for me. And
you get those great big thick exhales after you hold your breath; I nearly
come at the sight of that sometimes."

She turned her head. 

"It isn't just you, darling, it's all men I watch; and the ones that plume it
out like that; I think about them and I'm ready to come. And I always thought
I was weird."

He kissed her.

"Welcome to weirdo city, babe. Christ, it's good to know how you feel. But one
more thing; why didn't you start up again?"

"Very simple; I never wanted to go back to 60 a day.  It was pretty awful,
living my life on the end of a cigarette. I started at 15 and worked my way
up, and by 25 I was on 3 packs - I only stopped when I was 30, because life
just wasn't worth living. I mean, I couldn't do anything without a fag.
Couldn't answer the phone, read a book, start the car, sit down; it was
stupid. So, I quit. And that you know about, so I won't go into it, but it was
ghastly. Honey, I admire you terribly; you have that one a day, and you love
it, and you don't have any more; sometimes I think you want more, but you
don't give in. you are so strong."

Tim smiled. He reached up and cupped a warm breast.  She leaned into it, and
bent over to kiss him.

"Maggie darlin...may I take you to bed?"

"Yes, darling...but I want you to do one thing for me."


"Smoke for me."


"If you don't mind being taken on the floor."

He went and found his little tin, and brought a saucer in from the kitchen.
She sat on the floor against the couch and watched as he took out his lighter.
He felt on show, but excited; she was aroused and her eyes were wide and
bright. She had waited for this for so long, he thought; and now they would
both get their wishes.

He said to her, "Would you like to light me?" He heard her sharp intake of

"Oh God, honey..."

She took the lighter from him with trembling hands and flicked it as he bent
his head to her, dark hair falling forwards, eyes half shut against the flare.
She heard the crackle of the tip as it caught, smelt the first wisp, saw him
inhale, and pull the smoke down hard into his lungs.

"Ah..that's nice. Any requests?"

"Do it again."

He nodded, remembering. For her, he took three long hard drags, soaking it in,
holding it, letting it out slow and thick. Her hands had moved to her lap by
now and she was moaning. He put the cigarette out, which made her cry out.

"In a minute babe. While we're getting horny as anything here, I want you to
do something for me."
He reached for her legs and parted them, and took off her pyjama bottoms. He
put her hand on her own clit, and said, "Rub yourself for me babe; I want you
as hot as you can get."

He watched as Maggie put two long slender fingers on her clit, and started to
rub. He took out the lighter and lit up quickly, and took another drag.

"Oh, darlin..." She was turned on. Her mouth was half open and she was
breathing hard. He could see her concentrating, all her feelings flowing from
her bud, gathering her body for the climax.

He was hard as rock, and seeping. He took one more drag, almost coming as he
finished the cigarette, and watched as she brought herself to the brink. He
ground out the last of the cigarette and went to her, and kissed her open
mouth with his smoky breath, and felt her writhe under him as she started to
come. Quickly, quickly, for he was starting to come too, he moved over her,
slipping his hard cock into her, feeling her last waves of orgasm send him
over the edge as well.  They lay quietly together and she said, softly,

"And there's always tomorrow..."

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