Ashley

Ashley
by smokingbeauties@yahoo.com

My name is Ashley, and I am 19 years old.  I'm about to tell you something
that very few people know about me.  I smoke.  I'm here to tell you the
story about how and why I started smoking, and why I keep this secret from my
family.

I grew up in a famous small town in upstate New York.  (You'll forgive me if
that's all the information that I give you.)  I come from a family that
isn't by any stretch of the imagination wealthy, but we weren't exactly
starving either.  My brother and I always had the best things.

When I was about 15, I began dating a guy named Tom.  My parents hardly
approved, which made me want to be with him even more.  I'm not really sure
why they didn't approve of him, but I'm sure they figured he was a bad
influence.  (Looking back, I guess you could say he was, but I'm not
complaining!)

Tom and I dated for about a year or so before he started smoking.  I thought
it was an absolutely disgusting habit, and I refused to kiss him unless he
had brushed his teeth beforehand.  (I was so stubborn.)

Many times, Tom would offer me a cigarette, but I always declined the offer.
I was too wrapped up in sports and being popular to smoke, plus I knew that
my parents would kill me if they found out that I'd even taken one puff.  It
was bad enough that my parents didn't like him to begin with, but if they
thought that he'd convinced me to smoke, all hell would have broken loose.

Even though my parents didn't approve of Tom, they didn't really try to
stop us from seeing each other.  That is, until about a year ago.

I had graduated from high school and begun attending a very good college.  My
grades were as great as they'd always been.  Things were going very well.

But then my mom sat me down and told me that she didn't think Tom was good
enough for me.  Granted, I'd been with him since I was fifteen years old,
and all of a sudden she came to this conclusion.  I was furious.

"Mom," I angrily said.  "This is not your decision to make.  I'm an
adult, and I can see whoever I want to see."

"No Ashley," she sternly said.  "You can't.  Not if you want your father
and I to continue paying your tuition."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  My mother was giving me an
ultimatum.  I either break up with Tom or they'll stop paying for college.

I stormed out of the room, and got into my car.  I wasn't sure where I was
going, but I knew that I had to talk to Tom.

I pulled out of the driveway and called him on my cell phone.  He could tell
that I was upset about something, but I didn't want to go into it on the
phone.  He agreed to meet me at a park in our town.

As I pulled up to the park, I saw Tom's car and just beyond the car he sat
on a bench.

"Hi," I said as I walked up to him.

"Hi," he said with a smile.  "Same shit with your parents, huh?"

"Yeah," I said with a nervous smile.  

He knew that my parents weren't exactly fond of him, but that's all I had
ever told him.  I wasn't even sure I wanted to go into too much depth about
the issue, but I knew that I needed to vent.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"Oh I don't even fucking know," I said.

"Wow," Tom laughed.  "You are pissed.  I don't think I've ever heard you
say that."

He was right.  I'd probably said that word four times in my entire life,
including this time.  But I was angry, I was resentful, and I didn't know
what to do.

Tom pulled a pack of cigarettes out and put one between his lips.  He lit the
tip and put the pack on the bench.

"I just can't believe her sometimes," I started, referring to my mom.
"Have you ever been so pissed off that you just want to scream?"

"Of course I have," Tom said calmly.

"What do you do?" I inquired.

"Do you really want to know?" Tom answered as he blew a stream of smoke
into the summer air.

"Yeah," I answered.

"I smoke a cigarette," he said, taking another drag.

"And that helps?" I asked naïvely.

"You can't imagine," answered Tom slyly.

I was confused.  I'd never wanted to smoke before, but I was really angry.
I needed something to calm me down.  And part of me wanted to "get back" at
my mom.  

"Can I have one?" I asked nervously.

"Sure," Tom said, handing the pack to me.

"I mean, she already thinks you're a bad influence," I started.  "I might
as well try it.  And the fact that she'd hate it doesn't hurt matters
either."

Tom laughed quietly as he took another drag.

"What do I do?" I sheepishly asked.

"Put it in your mouth," Tom instructed, and I obeyed.  "When I say to
suck, suck air through it, take it out of your mouth, and blow the smoke
out."

I nodded my head to indicate that I understood.

I watched in disbelief as Tom flicked the lighter and moved the orange flame
closer to the tip of the cigarette that was in my mouth.  I was going to
smoke.

"Now," Tom instructed, indicating that it was time to suck.

I closed my eyes and began to suck air slowly through the cigarette.  I heard
the paper around the cigarette begin to quietly crackle as the heat was
applied.

Before I knew what had happened, I felt and tasted the smoke in my mouth.

"Now open your mouth and blow it out," Tom said.

Doing as instructed, I opened my eyes and my mouth and blew a small stream of
smoke out.  I couldn't believe that I was actually smoking a cigarette.

"Not bad," Tom said.  "What do you think?"

"It's terrible," I laughed.  "How can you do this?"

"It gets better," Tom laughed.  "You've just got to get used to it
first."

"I guess," I said, nervously bringing the filter to my lips for another
tentative puff.

This time I took a slightly longer drag before blowing a cloud of smoke out
into the afternoon sky.

"Take one more puff, then we'll get to the good stuff," Tom said
mysteriously.

I said nothing as I brought the filter to my lips for my third ever puff and
blew the smoke out.

"This time," Tom said.  "When you're done sucking the smoke in, take the
cigarette out and breathe the smoke into your lungs."

"Why?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to do that.

"You'll see," Tom teased, taking a large drag and an equally large inhale.
A smile fell upon his face.

Realizing that he obviously enjoyed the act, I decided to give it a shot.

I brought the cigarette to my lips once more, and took a decent sized drag.
I took the filter out of my mouth, and began to slowly breathe the smoke into
my lungs.

"Don't cough," Tom said as he took my hand.  

I tried my best not to cough the smoke out, but it was very difficult.

"Hold it in for a few seconds," Tom said, rubbing my fingers.

It was tough.  The smoke in my lungs made me want to cough and throw up at
the same time.  It didn't really burn, but it did sting a little bit.

"Now blow it out," he said with a smile.

I did as he said, and noticed that the smoke looked different than when I'd
smoked earlier.  It was sort of thinner.

"Good job," Tom said, still smiling.  "How do you feel?"

"Holy shit!" I said, feeling flushed in the face.  "My head is spinning."

"It's nice, isn't it?" he laughed as he took another drag.

I wasn't sure how to answer.  The thought of smoking still bothered me, and
the thought of developing any ill health effects was one which terrified me.
But this feeling-it felt good.

I brought the filter to my lips another time, and took another puff.  This
time I was able to inhale the smoke without any coaching.  I noticed that it
slid down my throat and into my lungs much easier than my first attempt.

Holding the smoke in, I felt every cell in my body begin to relax.  It was
exactly what I needed.

After a few more drags and inhales, the cigarette was gone.  My head was
spinning seemingly out of control, and I felt great.

"Thank you," I said with a smile and a kiss.  "I needed that."

"Any time you'd like one," Tom said as he gazed into my eyes.  "You're
more than welcome to smoke one."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, not really thinking that I'd ever want
to smoke another cigarette.

Tom and I talked for about an hour, and he really helped me through the
stress of my argument at home.  Afterwards, he offered me another cigarette.

But did I really want to smoke another one?  The day before, I'd never
smoked a single cigarette, and now he was offering me a second one.

I concluded that, even though I didn't want to smoke, it was the least I
could do after all he'd done for me.

"One more," I said as I took one from the pack.

It felt nice to be sitting with Tom on the bench in the park, even if I was
smoking a cigarette.  I hoped that no one I knew would see us there, but at
the same time I didn't care, because I was happy.

I didn't smoke again for several months.  I told my parents that I wouldn't
see Tom anymore, and they agreed to continue to pay for college.  But what
they didn't know was that by offering me an ultimatum to try to hold onto
me, they were pushing me further away than they ever could have imagined.

It was the first week of the new school year.  Now a sophomore, I felt like
I'd matured a lot since the last time I'd been on campus.  

A tradition at my school, as with most universities, was that the first
weekend was always spent in drunken parties.  Granted, the school didn't
technically allow these parties to occur, but with the high student to staff
ratio, they pretty much only used the rule to penalize those who get out of
hand.

By 10:00, I was completely drunk.  Earlier in the night, my friend Danielle
had told me that she started smoking regularly over the summer.  She'd
always been the girl who smoked when she was drinking, but had come to the
conclusion that she was hooked, which was fine with her, as she enjoyed
smoking.

The room was very smoky, but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind.
It made me think of Tom, and the way he'd helped me through my difficulties
with my parents.

Danielle was lighting a cigarette.  Nervous but drunk, I spoke up.

"Can I have a cigarette?" I asked, taking a large sip of my beer.

"What?" Danielle asked.  "You don't smoke."

"I know, but I'd really like one," I said.

"Sure," Danielle said, handing me the cigarette she'd just lit for
herself.  "I'll light another one." I brought the filter to my mouth and
wrapped my lips around it, pulling the smoke into my mouth and then into my
lungs.  It was different than the one I'd smoked with Tom.

"It's minty," I said as I exhaled a small stream of smoke into the
smoke-filled room.

"They're menthols," Danielle explained.

"Oh," I said, not really sure what she was talking about, and in no
condition to try to discuss it.  

Taking another puff, the minty smoke filled my mouth and lungs once more.  It
felt cool in so many ways as it slid down into my lungs.

"You look really sexy smoking," Danielle said.

"Really?" I asked.  I'd never thought of smoking as sexy before.

"Yeah, totally," Danielle laughed.  "I'd do ya!"

I knew that Danielle was the one to walk a little on the wild side, and once
she'd confided in me about an experience with her roommate, but I concluded
that she was just drunk and trying to be funny.

"Seriously," Danielle continued.

"Thanks," I said, not really sure what to say in response.

"Would you fuck me?" Danielle asked.

This was getting out of control.

"Yeah," I laughed, not wanting to hurt my friend's feelings.  "I'd fuck
you."

"Cool," Danielle said, taking another drag.

I mimicked her actions by taking another puff of my own.  The menthol smoke
really made all the difference.  It almost tasted good.

By midnight, the party was in full swing, and I was just about to pass out.
I decided that it was time to go back to my room.

I told Danielle that I was going to leave, and she said that she was ready to
go as well.

Walking back to our dorms, Danielle lit another cigarette.

"Want a cigarette?" she asked, passing the pack to me.

"Sure," I replied.  I was drunk, and in an odd sort of way, I liked the
taste of her menthols.

We smoked our cigarettes as we walked across campus.  It was nice smoking
with Danielle.  In fact, I was noticing that it was becoming nice to smoke
with someone, although out of the four times I'd smoked, I'd never smoked
alone.

"Come in and have a cigarette with me," Danielle invited.  

The idea sounded nice.

"Alright," I said with a smile.  Upon entering her room, Danielle sat on
her bed, and I sat on the chair across the room.

She lit a cigarette for herself and tossed me her pack.

"So you smoke now, huh?" I asked, unsure what else to say.

"So do you," she replied, exhaling the smoke from her lungs into the room.

"No," I corrected.  "I don't smoke.  I only do it once in a while.  This
is like my fifth cigarette ever."

"I remember being like that," she said with a chuckle.  "I'll be right
back."

She disappeared into the bathroom.  When she came out, she was holding her
cigarette in her left hand, and something I'd never seen before in her
right.

"What's that?" I asked, taking a puff.

"Want to get high?" Danielle said, placing the object on the floor between
us.  

It was now apparent that the object she was carrying in her hand was a bong.
  
"Danielle, I-" I started to say.

"I know, you've never done it before, right?" she asked.

I nodded.

"And you don't know if you want to do it or not, right?" Danielle
continued.

"Well yeah-I mean, no-" I tried to explain.

"Just watch," Danielle said as she put her lips around the opening of the
bong.  She flicked her lighter and moved it to a little metal piece on the
side of the tall glass tube.  She began to suck and I heard the water inside
the bong begin to bubble.  It sounded almost like it was boiling.

Thick smoke began to crawl up the inside of the bong and into Danielle's
mouth.  I couldn't believe what I was watching.  Not only had I never been
around Danielle while she was getting stoned, I'd never seen anyone get
high.  In fact, I didn't even know Danielle smoked weed.

Holding the smoke in her lungs, she looked at me and smiled.

"It's really no big deal," she said, still holding the smoke inside.

She blew a large stream of the smoke towards me.  It smelled nothing like the
smoke from cigarettes.  I don't know if I thought it smelled good, but it
definitely didn't smell bad.

"Just try it," Danielle encouraged.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "But I can't.  My mom would kill me."

"Two things," Danielle began.  "One-she isn't here, so how is she going
to know?  And two-why did you start smoking?"

"I didn't start smoking," I clarified.  "But the reason I smoked for the
first time was because I was mad at my mom and I wanted to get back at her.
I told you that story on the way over here."

"I know you did," Danielle giggled.

I watched in amazement as she took another hit from the bong.

"And your parents told you that you had to either give up Tom or give up
school, right?" she asked after exhaling the second hit.

"Yeah," I said, not sure where her questions were going.

"Wouldn't they shit if they knew that by choosing school you were ending up
doing this anyway?" Danielle said.

I had to admit, her argument made frightening sense.

I said nothing as I stared at the bong on the floor.

"Yeah, but-" I started to say in my defense. 

"But you know I'm right," Danielle said convincingly.

"Okay," I said.  "You did it.  You convinced me.  I'm going to smoke
weed," I said.

"Good," Danielle said with a smile.  "Now get your cute ass over here so I
can teach you how."

I walked across the room, completely terrified at what I was about to do.

"Put your mouth here," Danielle said as she removed her hand from the top
of the bong.  Smoke began to escape from the opening.

"Hurry before we're not the only thing that gets wasted," Danielle
laughed.

I apprehensively put my mouth over the opening of the glass pipe.  I wasn't
able to move my head very much, but with my eyes I looked at Danielle for
further instruction.

"Breathe it in," she said.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could and began to breathe the pot smoke into
my lungs.  It wasn't nearly as harsh as the smoke of a cigarette, and it
tasted astonishingly better.

"Now hold it in," she said as she lit a cigarette.  "You're doing fine."

I held the smoke in my lungs as long as I could, which admittedly wasn't
very long.

"Now blow it out really slowly," Danielle said, exhaling the smoke from her
cigarette.

I did as instructed, and as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't feel a
thing.

"That's it," Danielle said.  "You did it.  You're getting high."

"I don't think I am," I said, somewhat disappointed.  "It's not doing
anything."

"Then you're going to have to take another hit," Danielle said with a
grin.  "Keep going until you feel it.  That's one of the good things about
weed.  The more you do it, the less it takes to get you stoned."

I figured that I'd already done it once, so I might as well keep doing it to
truly appreciate it.

I returned my lips to the top of the bong and took another hit as Danielle
held the flame from her lighter over the small metal piece once more, on
which I now realized sat the marijuana.

The smoke slid down my throat and into my lungs easier than anything ever had
before.  I held it longer this time, and exhaled it even slower, hoping to
feel what it was she was talking about.

After about five hits from the bong, I began to feel lightheaded.

"Oh," I began.  "I think I'm feeling it."

"What do you think?" Danielle asked.

"Wow," I replied.  "I never would have thought it would feel like this."

"Do you like it?" Danielle inquired.

"Fuck yeah," I said, laughing at my own vulgarity.

"Here," she said, passing me her pack of cigarettes.  "Make it better."

Not even caring what the hell she was talking about at this point, I took the
pack and put a cigarette between my lips.

I leaned in to accept the light that Danielle was offering.  I might have
been stoned-no, I know I was stoned-but I didn't know or care what was
happening to me.  I was changing.

The menthol smoke felt wonderful as it filled my mouth and then my lungs.  I
knew, even if I was stoned, that I had a lot of thinking to do when I came
down from my high.

"You know," Danielle said, taking another puff on her cigarette.  "I meant
when I said that you look sexy when you smoke."

"I know," I smiled, unsure what else to say.  

"Did you mean it when you said you'd fuck me?" Danielle whispered.

Now I was completely confused.  I had never done anything sexual with a woman
before.  And now not only was I being propositioned, but I was drunk, I was
stoned, and I was confused.  I wasn't sure what to say.  I wasn't sure what
I wanted to say.

"I don't know, Dani," I replied, nervously taking another drag.  "I've
never been with a girl before."

"You'd never smoked pot before either," she replied, placing her head on
my shoulder and her hand on my thigh.

She had a point.

I reached over with my left hand and placed it under Danielle's chin,
raising it until our eyes met.

"Are you sure you really want to?" I asked, not sure of my own answer to
that question.

"Yes," Danielle replied decisively.

I swallowed, took a small yet deep breath and looked into Danielle's eyes.
I'm still not sure what came over me, but there was something about her that
looked so beautiful that night.

I leaned in until I felt my lips begin to touch hers.  Now I was stoned, and
I was kissing a girl.

She parted her lips and slid her tongue into my mouth.  What struck me the
most was how comfortable and familiar it felt to kiss Danielle.  Perhaps it
was because I was stoned.  But I really think it's because we were such
close friends.

Before I knew what had happened, she had slid her hand down the front of my
shorts, and was caressing my clitoris.  

"Wait," I said.  

I could tell by the look on her face that she thought I was going to stop
her.

I said nothing as I stood up.

"Ashley-" she said sadly.

I enjoyed that I knew what I was doing and she did not.

I stared her directly in the eyes as I reached up with both hands and slid my
shorts down to the floor, complete with my panties.

"Oh," she said with a sense of relief.

As I laid myself down on her bed on my back, she stood above me and removed
her clothes as well.  She turned around and climbed on top of me in a
"sixty-nine" position.

Now, I had never even thought about being with a woman, in fact, I'd lost my
virginity to Tom when I was seventeen.  But now I found myself face to face
with my best friend's pussy, and I wasn't sure what to do.  I concluded
that I should just do what I would want someone to do to me.

Before I could do anything, I felt Danielle's fingers pulling my pussy lips
apart and sliding her tongue inside me.  It felt absolutely amazing.  She
knew exactly what to do to make me feel best.

I couldn't take it anymore.

Spreading her lips with my own fingers, I raised my head and began to lick
furiously at my best friend's pussy.  It didn't taste bad.  It tasted a
little musky, that's the only way I can describe it.

Within ten minutes of licking, sucking, and fucking each other's pussies,
Danielle and I climaxed together.  We collapsed onto the bed and held each
other's sweaty bodies.  Every cell in my body felt alive as the orgasm she
gave me reverberated through me.

"Wow," I said.  "I don't know what to say."

"Cigarette?" she said as she took one out for herself.

"Fuck yes," I said, taking my sixth cigarette ever, and fourth of the
evening.

"Do you want to keep fucking me?" Danielle asked as she lit her cigarette.

"Right now?" I asked with a chuckle as I took the lighter from her.

"I mean ever," Danielle replied.

"If it feels as good as that, then count me in," I said, inhaling the smoke
from my cigarette.  "I'll do my best to guarantee that," Danielle started.
"But it always feels better when you're stoned."

"Well then I'll just have to get stoned before we fuck, won't I?" I
joked.

"I've got a present for you," Danielle said, getting off the bed and going
to her dresser drawer.

When she returned, she held a pack of Marlboro Lights 100s in her hand.

"Here," she said, handing the pack to me.  "Start smoking.  It drives me
wild."

"I-" I began to say.

"I know, you're not sure," Danielle said knowingly.  "But you already
like smoking, right?"

"Yeah," I sheepishly admitted.

"Then it's really no big deal if you start," she said.

For some reason, the words coming out of Danielle's mouth always seemed to
make sense.

"Okay," I conceded.  "I'll-I mean, I started smoking."

"Say it," Danielle said as she rubbed her clit.  "Say you smoke."

"I started smoking," I laughed.  "I smoke.  I'm a smoker now."

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," Danielle teased, taking
another puff on her cigarette.

"And you have no idea what you're doing to me," I said, opening my new
pack and lighting the first of my very own cigarettes.

As the school year passed, Danielle and I continued to get high and make
love.  It was really an amazing experience.  I smoked regularly now, and it
was not at all uncommon for me to smoke a whole pack in a single day,
especially on the weekends.

My parents still don't know any of this, and very few of my friends know the
real story of me, and how I started smoking. 

I still get high, sometimes with Danielle, sometimes without her.  I've even
gotten high in my bedroom at my parents' house, but they of course don't
know.  They don't even know I smoke cigarettes, which is an impossible act
to keep hidden, but I do my best.

I'm considering talking to my mom and convincing her to smoke a joint with
me, but I don't see that happening any time soon.

As for Tom, all I'll do is remind you of what I said earlier.  Very few
people know the real story of me, and how I started smoking.