The Best Birthday, Part 1

(by Tjhcmp1@aol.com, 03 May 2003)


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THE BEST BIRTHDAY 
Part 1 of 2 

The intercom on the 737 crackled to life. "Good afternoon. We've just been 
cleared for landing at Las Vegas, McCarran International Airport. Please 
fasten your seatbelts and stow your tray tables in their full, upright and 
locked positions. The correct local time is 2:30. The weather is sunny. 
There is a slight breeze of about 5 miles per hour and the temperature is 
83 degrees." 

Today was my 48th birthday. I had just gone through a nasty divorce with my 
wife of 26 years and throughout the whole proceedings, my two grown 
children had sided with their mother. While I had every confidence that 
they would eventually come around towards understanding my position, I knew 
that there wasn't going to be any family birthday celebration for me this 
year. That's why I decided to give myself a little celebration and head to 
Vegas for a little therapeutic, three day weekend. 

As I think back on my divorce, I came to the conclusion that the breakup 
can be traced to my wife quitting smoking almost 5 years ago. Within weeks 
after she quit, I realized that it was her smoking that really turned me on 
and maintained my interest in her. I just couldn't get past the void that 
her not smoking created in our lives. Shortly after she successfully quit, 
she actually became a militant non-smoker and began bugging me to quit. 
Soon, the bugging turned into down right nagging. Now I only smoke about a 
pack-a-day and at this level, I've never had any health problems. However, 
I really enjoyed my occasional cigarette and had no intention of quitting. 
Over time, I realized that, not only did I personally like smoking, I had 
an amazingly strong smoking fetish for beautiful women that smoked, and 
smoked heavily. That was the foundation for why I eventually divorced my 
wife and that's why I was now headed to Vegas, the last bastion of public 
smoking in America. 

Within minutes after scooping my bag from the luggage carousel I was in a 
cab heading to Caesar's Palace. I figured the ride would only take maybe 15 
minutes, however, traffic was heavy and I quickly realized that it would 
take a lot longer. The cab driver's name was Art. He looked to be about 60 
and I could tell by the way that he drove that he'd been doing this for 
years. "Hey Art, how long you been driving cabs in town?" I asked. 

"Let me see, it's been about 18 years." He replied. 

"God, in that amount of time, you've probably seen just about everything." 
I said, trying to keep the conversation flowing. 

"Oh yea. You name it, I've seen it." He answered honestly. 

"Listen Art, I'm thinking that maybe I'd like to line up a companion for 
the evening. Not for a quickie mind you, just somebody I'd like to spend 
some quality time with. And, there's no way I'll be able to figure this out 
by searching through all the ads for "Entertainers" in the phone book and 
I'm not about to call one of those numbers on the cards that the immigrants 
hand out on the street corners. Do you happen to know a reputable service 
that I can call if I need some company tonight?" I asked sincerely. 

"Absolutely." Art said. Then, he reached into his pocket and handed me a 
card. "I strongly recommend this outfit. They have very nice, friendly 
girls and I'm sure they'll be able to provide what you're looking for." He 
added. 

"Should I mention your name?" I asked. 

"No. That's not necessary. But, If you need a cab during the rest of your 
stay, call me. My number is on the back. Let me know how it works out." He 
said. 

I thanked him and then studied the card for a second before I put it in my 
pocket. "Top Flight Entertainment" was the name of the agency. "Your 
Fantasy is our Specialty" was the tagline. 

By 3:30 I was checked into my room at the Palace. It was a very 
comfortable, small suite on the 15th floor. I smoked a couple cigarettes 
and then changed into my suit, grabbed the book that I had brought for the 
weekend and headed for the pool. The pool area was fairly crowded and as 
much as I tried to concentrate on my reading, I was totally distracted by 
all the young hotties running around in their skimpy bikinis, freely 
smoking their cigarettes. As much as this turned me on, it was also a 
little depressing. I mean, I like to think I'm a pretty good looking, well 
preserved guy. I'm 6'2, 190 pounds and I think I'm in pretty good shape for 
an old fart, but I realized that, except for my attraction to their obvious 
beauty, I had nothing in common with these young, 20 something bimbettes 
with their bodybuilder boyfriends. 

I left the pool area around 5:00 and changed into casual cloths. Then, I 
headed down to the casino to play a little Craps, my favorite game. Over 
the next three hours, I had a marvelous time at the table. I only won about 
$100, but the eye candy that came and went from the table was impressive. 
Almost all of these gorgeous women smoked, but they were also attached. So, 
except for pleasant conversation, I never even came close to meeting 
someone to spend the rest of the evening with. 

By 8:00, I was back in my room and feeling very lonely. I lit a cigarette 
and took a nice long drag. I drew the smoke deep into my lungs and this 
relaxed me and improved my mood a little. I took another equally strong 
drag, then I grabbed the card that Art had given me. Over the next couple 
minutes I read and re-read the card. Then, I took one last hit off my 
cigarette and dialed the phone. 

"Hello." A very feminine and sexy voice answered. 

"Hi. I s this Top Flight Entertainment?" I asked, sensing that my voice was 
quivering a little out of nervousness. 

"It sure is baby. What is your name baby? And, tell me about your fantasy." 
She answered, her voice growing more seductive by the second. 

"I'm Phil and what is your name darling?" By now, the natural confidence in 
my voice was restored. 

"I'm Trisha lover. Tell me what I can do for you." She replied. 

"Well Trisha, I'm looking for a companion tonight and a friend of mine 
recommended you. He said that you specialize in fulfilling fantasies." 

"That's right baby. Tell me about your fantasy companion." 

I paused for a second to make sure that all my thoughts were collected. 
"Let's see, I'd like to spend some quality time with a pretty girl. She 
doesn't have to be drop dead gorgeous but I do have some very specific 
requirements." 

"Do tell lover." Trisha prodded. 

"Ok. First, my fantasy companion has to be a heavy smoker. The more she 
smokes, the better. She also has to have seriously big breasts. She doesn't 
have to be skinny, but she can't be fat." I advised. 

"Got that. Anything else baby?" Trisha responded, taking my first two 
requests in stride. 

"Definitely. I plan on taking my companion to dinner and then maybe we'll 
do a little gambling and see where the evening leads after that. Now 
Trisha, this is important. I want her to be wearing a nice short mini-skirt 
and a totally sheer blouse with no bra." I instructed. 

Trisha responded, "Oh you are a nasty little boy aren't you." 

"Yea Trisha, I am. But listen, I seriously don't want a really young girl. 
I want someone that I can talk to and enjoy her company. I don't want some 
too young, little bubble-head. 

"Listen Phil, I just checked my calendar and I think you're in luck. One of 
our best girls, Fran, is only available two nights a week, and tonight's 
one of those nights. I think you'll be very pleased with her. She will fit 
your fantasy perfectly." Trisha advised. 

"That's good. Uh, Trisha, what's the fee for this service?" I asked as 
nervousness crept back into my voice. 

"Well baby, the fee will be $400 for the first hour and $200 after that. 
Anything else that you negotiate between you and Fran, is up to you. Can I 
call her for you lover?" 

"Trisha, before I say yes, let's just recap to make sure you've got 
everything down that I've requested because, if anything's missing, I'm 
afraid our deal will be off. Remember, pretty, heavy smoker, big boobs, not 
fat, see-through blouse and no bra. Got it?" 

"I sure do lover. Like I said before, You'll be very pleased. Now give me 
your full name and your room number." She requested. 

"Phil Edwards and I'm in room 1523 at Caesar's Palace." I replied. 

"Great Phil. Now we're going to hang up and then I will call you back in 
about a minute, after I've confirmed Fran's availability. Ok?" 

"Ok Trisha. Bye." I said as I hung up. 

The phone didn't ring back in a minute. In fact, it was about five minutes 
before the phone rang. In the interim, I nervously smoked a cigarette. 

I don't really know why I was so nervous. I mean, I'm not exactly an 
inexperienced kid. Now don't get me wrong, its not like I pay for hookers 
everyday. In fact, this was only the fourth time I was ever going to do 
this sort of thing. The other times, I was still married and even though 
the thrill and anticipation of fucking a strange woman was invigorating. 
After the experience was over, I always felt a sense of extreme guilt. 

The phone finally rang. "Hi is this Phil?" 

"Yes it is Trisha. What's the deal?" I responded. 

"Oh good. I'm glad it was you that answered the phone. Well Phil, you are 
in luck. Fran is available and she can be at your room in about an hour. 
Let's say about 9:30. She's really looking forward to meeting you. Will 
that work for you baby?" 

"That will be just fine." I replied. 

I looked at my watch. It was just about 8:30, so I would have to make 
myself busy for an hour. I changed into a nice pair of dress slacks and a 
golf shirt that I had bought for this trip. Then, after I slipped into a 
matching jacket, I called room service and ordered a bottle of nice 
Chardonnay on ice for the room. The next thing on my list was to make 
dinner reservations. I remembered that The Terrazza was the best Italian 
restaurant within Caesar's, so I called and booked a table for 10:00 in the 
smoking section out on the poolside terrace. The last thing that I did was 
to pop down a couple Horny Goat Weed tablets. I think I did this more for 
psychological reinforcement than the physical stamina that I hoped I would 
need later that night. And then, I waited. 

At 9:00, room service delivered the wine in an ice bucket with two glasses. 
Then, I waited some more. By 9:35 I was getting a little nervous. I know 
Fran was only five minutes late, but in my nervousness, I feared that maybe 
I was being stood up. Finally, at 9:45, the phone rang. 

"Hi, is this Phil?" God, I fell in love with her voice instantly. It was so 
deep and raspy and sexy. "This girl must have smoked heavily for years." I 
thought. I only prayed that the rest of the package was equally perfect. 

"Sure is. Is this Fran?" I asked back, trying not to sound too 
enthusiastic. 

"Yea Phil, I'm so sorry I'm late. I'm calling from the lobby courtesy 
phone. I just wanted to verify whether or not we still had a date tonight." 

"Absolutely. I've been waiting." I answered. 

"Oh good. I'll be right up. 1523 right?" She asked. God her voice sounded 
so sexy. 

"That's the room." I replied. 

Three minutes later, I heard the faint sounds of footsteps in the hall 
outside my door and then there was a dainty little knock on my door. 

I quickly opened the door and Fran walked quickly past me and into the 
room. But, in that brief instant, I perused her face and her slender five 
foot four frame and decided that she was plenty pretty enough, even without 
makeup on. This was a plus. I guessed that she was in her late twenties, 
maybe a plus. The smell of fresh tobacco smoke was strong on her breath and 
clothing, another definite plus. And, she had nice big tits, but that's 
where the plusses ended. The sweat suit and tennis shoes that she wore were 
about as far from a blouse and mini-skirt as you could get. Her shoulder 
length, streaked blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. "Not 
very sexy." I thought. But, what really bummed me out was that my specific 
instructions had not been followed. In fact, I was so disappointed that I 
didn't even pay any attention to the relatively small duffel bag and 
glittery black dress purse that Fran had slung over her shoulder. 

As soon as I had shut the door, I turned to face her and she confidently 
held out her hand, "Hi Phil, I'm Fran and I'm so glad to meet you." Her 
voice sounded even sultrier and sexier in person. 

Her handshake was firm, yet feminine and her skin felt as smooth as velvet. 
"Hi, I'm Phil Edwards and I'm equally glad to meet you." 

With our introductory handshake now complete, Fran walked into the room, 
dropped her duffel onto the couch and while she walked toward the window, 
she fished a Benson and Hedges Menthol cigarette out of her purse. "Wow 
Phil, you've got a great room here. Did you just check in today? Oh look, 
you have a real nice view of the Strip off in the distance." She said. 
Then, before I even had a chance to respond to what she had just said, she 
turned toward me and asked, "Do you have a light handy?" 

I pulled my lighter out of my shirt pocket, fired it up and then held the 
flame to the tip of Fran's cigarette. She was staring deeply into my eyes 
while she sucked her cigarette to life. Once it was lit, she executed a 
wonderfully deep double pump. While she held her inhale, her eyes were 
still locked onto mine. Her face suddenly broke into a frown and she 
whimpered with a talking exhale, "Phil, your eyes tell me that you're not 
happy. Oh please don't tell me you're disappointed in me." 

I thought for a second and then answered, "Fran, I am definitely not 
disappointed in you. You're a very beautiful woman. It's just that my 
instructions to Trisha were very simple and specific and they weren't 
followed." 

Her eyes were still locked onto mine while she took another drag on her 
cigarette. "God, she's a very accomplished smoker." I thought. 

Then, she replied. "Phil, Trish filled me in on all the details of your 
request. That's why I'm late. And, I'm really sorry that I am late, but I 
was visiting my mother when she called and I decided to take a quick run 
home to make sure that I packed the right outfit." 

She pointed to her duffel bag on the couch. "If you can give me just 
fifteen minutes, I can be totally ready." She asked. 

"Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't even really notice your duffel bag. Take as 
much time as you like." I replied, now feeling like an ass. 

"Oh thank you Phil. You're so sweet. Does that mean we have a date?" She 
asked in her seductively deep, sexy voice. 

"Definitely. Let's have our date." I replied. 

"Hey, I see that you've got a bottle of wine on ice. That's such a nice 
touch. Would you mind pouring us a couple of glasses while I check in with 
Trisha?" She asked. 

I began to uncork the wine while Fran sat down on the couch. After pulling 
the large glass ashtray on the coffee table over to her, she pulled her 
cell phone out of her duffel bag and she took a real nice, cheek hollowing 
drag while she waited for Trisha to answer on the other end. It took at 
least five seconds for Trisha to answer and Fran held her inhale for the 
entire time. She finally began to breathe when Trisha came on the line. 
Here's Fran's side of the conversation. 

"Hi honey. It's me." 

"Yea, I'm in Phil's room." Fran paused to hit her cigarette again. The 
smoke from her previous drag hadn't yet cleared from her lungs. 

"Oh you were worried. Trish, you're such the little mother hen." 

"No. Actually, I was at my mother's and I decided to swing by the house on 
my way over here. I needed to pick up a few things." I handed Fran her 
glass of wine and she took a small sip from it before dragging on her 
cigarette again. Then, she chuckled. 

"Oh, you can bet on it." 

"He sure is." 

"No baby. I'm all tied up until Tuesday." 

God, I found my cock getting all hard just listening to the sound of Fran's 
voice and watching her smoke while she talked. She was such an accomplished 
smoker. Her inhales were strong and deep. She rarely used stream exhales. 
She was content to simply talk through her exhales. Her breathing was 
shallow and rapid as it was obvious that her body wasn't getting much 
oxygen between puffs. And the clouds of rich, thick Benson and Hedges smoke 
that she was exhaling seemed to linger just above her head. 

"Yea, I'll check in later hon. Luv ya. Bye." 

Once she hung up her phone, she took another sip from her wine and said, 
"Oooo, this is yummy. Thank you. Now Phil, can you sit here next to me and 
can we get the necessary unpleasantries over with." 

I sat next to her and she asked, "Phil, would you mind terribly if I asked 
to see your driver's license and a business card?" 

"Not at all." I replied. Then, I added, "In fact, I would have been 
disappointed if you hadn't asked. 

"Oh good boy." She said as she patted out the B&H that she had smoked down 
almost to the filter and I handed her my license and card. 

Before she inspected the documents, she pulled another cigarette from her 
purse and I gave her a light. She let the freshly lit cigarette dangle from 
her lips while she studied the documents. Then, with the cigarette still 
wedged between her lips, she blew a dense stream of smoke toward the 
ceiling and said, "Phil, you're not a cop are you?" 

"Heavens no." I said. 

"That's good. I apologize for the interrogation, but I'm just trying to be 
careful for both our sakes." She said as smoke flowed freely around the 
cigarette that still dangled from her lips. 

"Hey darling, it's your birthday!" She exclaimed as she handed me my 
documents and finally pulled the cigarette out of her mouth. "Here, let me 
give you a little birthday kiss." She said. 

I gave Fran a quick little peck on the lips and even though our mouths 
touched for only an instant, the smell and taste of cigarette smoke was so 
strong on her breath, my heart skipped a beat. 

"So Phil, are you still planning on taking me to dinner?" She asked. 

"Definitely." I answered. 

"Good. I'm starving." She replied. Then, she added after taking another 
strong drag on her cigarette, "We have one last little hurdle to get over. 
I'm going to need $600 now and we'll just see where the rest of the night 
leads us from there. Ok lover?" 

"No problem at all." I said as I retrieved the bills from my wallet, which 
was still in my hand. 

After she quickly counted the bills, she stuffed them into her purse and 
said, "You know Phil, I'm so glad that you called tonight because I was 
beginning to think that I wasn't going to have the opportunity to meet 
anyone new tonight." 

"Well Fran, I'm really glad that I called too. I hope we have a lot of fun 
tonight." I replied. 

"Oh we will honey. But, now I better go get myself together." She advised. 

Fran stuck her cigarette back in her mouth, grabbed her cigarettes, purse 
and duffel bag and hustled off to the bathroom. I remained seated at the 
end of the couch and from where I was sitting, I could see completely into 
the bathroom. Fran stepped into the bathroom, turned on the light and, 
still puffing on the cigarette that dangled from her lips, plugged in her 
curling iron. I assumed that Fran was about to shut the door. Instead, she 
never even made a motion toward it. She seemed totally focused on getting 
ready as quickly as possible. She finally pulled the cigarette out of her 
mouth and rested the half-smoked cylinder on the ashtray. In about 10 
seconds, she had all of her makeup spread out on the counter. 

Fran grabbed her cigarette and paused to take a nice double pump. She held 
the inhale about 4 seconds and then she blew out only a very small stream 
of smoke while she place the cigarette back in the ashtray. She just began 
breathing for the remainder of her exhale. Then, she quickly shucked off 
her sweatshirt as little wisps of smoke darted from her nose. Her heavy 
duty, white, full figured bra came into view and now, with the loose 
fitting sweatshirt removed, I could see that she had quite an awesome pair 
of boobs. I wasn't going to have to fantasize for long over how those 
babies would look without the bra on because it only took her about 2 
seconds to pop the triple hooks that held the garment in place. Fran knew 
that I was staring at her and I'm convinced that she wanted me to be 
staring because she now she decided to tease me. She held the unhooked bra 
in place over her tits with her right hand while she reached for her 
cigarette and took a leisurely double pump 

to finish it. She took longer than she needed to snuff out the spent but 
and she had held in her inhale for so long that when she finally started 
breathing again, there was very little smoke in her exhales. 

Fran paused to take a sip of wine and then, while staring into the mirror, 
she finally dropped the bra. The most beautiful pair of double D's that I'd 
seen in the last 20 years sprung into view. Free from their constraints, 
they immediately drooped heavily against her chest, hanging down to about 4 
inches above her navel. They had a perfect ski sloped shape and despite 
their droopiness, they looked so full and heavy. Capping off Fran's 
luscious hangers were large, dark nipples that, from a distance, looked 
like they stretched 2 inches across. With the profile view that Fran was 
providing, it looked like the nubs on those nipples were a good half inch 
long and a half inch wide. I immediately began to fantasize about how long 
and thick those nipples would get when Fran got aroused. My voyeuristic 
moment was interrupted when Fran called out as she stepped out of her 
sweatpants, "Phil, where are we going for dinner?" 

I answered her question with a question. "Hey Fran, do you like Italian?" 

"I love Italian." She answered. 

"Good. I've made reservations at the Terrazza. Which reminds me, how about 
I call them and move the time back to 10:30." I suggested. 

"Oh the Terrazza is one of my favorite restaurants and 10:30 would be 
perfect." She called back. 

As I dialed the phone, I could see that Fran was now totally naked. She was 
still facing the mirror, so I had yet to see her full ass or bush, but the 
profile view of her legs and ass cheeks was magnificent. She had the 
slightest hint of a belly which probably betrayed the fact that she'd been 
pregnant before, but I found this element of her otherwise perfect figure 
to be interesting and stimulating. By the time I had hung up the phone, 
Fran had fastened a pretty lace black garter around her waist. She paused 
to take another drink of wine and to light another cigarette. After taking 
a nice double pump to get the B&H going, she sat down on the toilet with 
her legs spread wide apart. Then, she called out, "Hey Phil, would you be a 
doll and refill my wine glass?" 

I immediately grabbed the bottle and headed into the bathroom. Fran had 
just pulled a smoky gray stocking over her left leg. Now, for the first 
time I got a totally unobstructed view of her pussy. It was gorgeous. Her 
lips were broad and puffy and her clit extended a good half inch from 
between the folds. Her muff was a little darker than the hair on her head 
and it was trimmed real short and in the perfect shape of a stripper's 
racing stripe. Fran knew where my eyes had to be focused and she never even 
made a feeble attempt at coving up. My hands shook slightly as I poured the 
wine and I prayed that she wouldn't detect my nervousness. She simply 
thanked me as she drew a deep mouthful of smoke into her lungs and I 
returned to my seat to continue watching this goddess transform herself. 

A couple seconds later, Fran had her stocking on and fastened to the garter 
belt. She also had stepped into very sexy 5 inch, black, single strap 
pumps. She was once again standing, facing the mirror. She was kind of 
leaning over the sink, her hands working with practiced efficiency on her 
makeup. Her wonderful tits now wobbled gently with every rapid movement of 
her hands and now, the 5 inch heels that she wore made her legs look even 
longer and more gorgeous. 

With her cigarette dangling loosely from her lips, Fran called out, "Phil, 
I am so glad that you're into women that smoke." 

"You are? Why?" I asked, somewhat surprised. 

"Well, because, believe it or not, a lot of guys that I date are not into 
smoking." She answered. 

"Damn, that must be hard on you." I replied sympathetically. 

"Oh God. You have no idea. It's like if I spend more than a couple hours 
with them my cravings become so strong that I can hardly stand it." Her 
dangling cigarette flopped around slightly with every word that she spoke. 
"At least in Vegas I'm able to light up as soon as we say goodbye. I think 
if I had to wait until I was totally outside of the hotels, well, I'd 
probably just die." She added. 

"Well Fran, tonight you're in luck because as long as you're with me, you 
need not suffer through the slightest nicotine craving." I assured her. 

By now, Fran had pulled up a very tight black mini-skirt around her waist. 
It was a little longer than what I had fantasized about, but I guess it had 
to be to cover her garter and the tops of her stockings. The skirt was 
tight enough to make her little belly disappear, but the best part was that 
Fran never put on any panties! "Just knowing that she would be going 
through the entire evening without wearing any panties was going to be a 
nice turn on for me." I thought. 

Fran reached into her bag and pulled out a creamy white blouse. She held it 
up to the mirror and brushed away a few of the wrinkles. My heart started 
to beat a little faster in anticipation. She slipped the top over her head 
and then turned slightly toward me while she reached behind to button the 
collar. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed to myself. The blouse was totally 
see-through and it fit her rather snuggly. It had a high, very feminine, 
lace collar. The sleeves fit tightly against her arms, down to her elbows 
and then, they gave way to long, billowing, lacy sleeves that draped over 
her wrists and hands. I stared more closely. 

There was a strange, solid white band that stretched right across her 
nipples and I was just about to ask Fran about it. But, as soon as she was 
done with buttoning her collar, she fixed the problem. She tugged down hard 
on the bottom hem of the blouse and the white band stretched, then 
disappeared beneath her tits. I now realized that it was simply an elastic 
band that was sewn in at just the right spot so that the front of blouse 
would be tucked up snuggly beneath each breast. Now that her top was 
properly adjusted, the look was even more amazing. Despite the fact that 
the blouse was extremely feminine, it fit her loosely enough so as to offer 
absolutely no support, yet it was tight enough so that from a distance, it 
looked like it was painted on. Even in profile view, her large, dark 
nipples never looked more lovely. The gentle, sloping droop of her tits was 
exquisite. Once again, Fran interrupted my visual concentration. "Phil, you 
kind of surprised me. Most o 

f my dates are not nearly as specific with their instructions as you were." 

I paused to take a drag from my cigarette and replied, "You know Fran, I 
hope that didn't create any problems for you. It's just that I decided I 
wanted to try and cover off all of the things that have been missing in my 
life, all in one night." 

"No Phil. It was no problem, other than the fact that it made me 15 minutes 
late. But with all those desires that you have pent up in that handsome 
body of yours, I just hope you're not disappointed. That's all." She 
replied. 

"Listen Fran, I have no disappointments so far and, I promise that I'll be 
honest with you and let you know if I do. Ok?" 

"Fair enough Phil." She called back. 

Fran lit another cigarette and rapidly brushed her hair for maybe 30 
seconds. Then, she grabbed her curling iron. For the next couple minutes 
she transformed her long straight mane into soft curls which framed her 
face beautifully. She snuffed out her cigarette, sprayed her hair and then 
sprayed the upper half of her body with a delicate fragrance that I could 
actually detect in the other room. She took one last long look in the 
mirror. She touched up her makeup, adjusted the elastic strap beneath her 
tits a little more and then she turned and walked towards me. "What do you 
think?" She asked as she twirled around for my inspection. 

Her hair and makeup were now done to perfection. In a matter of a few 
minutes she had transformed herself from being pretty, but rather plain, to 
being truly gorgeous. "Fran, you are painfully beautiful." I replied. 

"What do you mean by painful?" She asked, with a fake sense of hurt in her 
voice. 

"I mean that you look so absolutely beautiful tonight, it will be painful 
to look at you." I answered, in a lame attempt at being coy. 

She let me get away with it. "Well Phil, prepare yourself for a lot of 
pain, because I want you to be looking at me all night long." 

Now that she was standing so close to me, I could make out a very subtle 
lace pattern in her shirt. The lace concealed nothing, yet it made the 
blouse infinitely more interesting. It created the slightest air of mystery 
as her boobs bounced gently with her every move. I began to have doubts. I 
wondered if I would be able to spend two hours with this girl out in 
public. God, I was so tempted to just jump on her right there, right now. 

"Well, I'm ready if you are Phil." She said, effectively ending my dilemma. 

"Then, let's go to dinner gorgeous lady." I replied. 

Fran slipped her arm around mine and we headed out the door. As we walked 
toward the elevator lobby, I noticed that Fran had to take at least three 
steps to my every two. No doubt, the super sexy 5 inch heels that she wore 
made it impossible for her to take long strides. I loved this because every 
time I glanced down at her chest, her luscious tits were bouncing like twin 
bobble-heads in the back of a pick-up truck. We waited alone in the 15th 
floor elevator lobby and Fran asked me if we had time to stop off at the 
news/souvenir stand so that she could pick up some smokes. As soon as I 
said "Yes", the door of the elevator opened and we stepped into a car that 
already had 4 or 5 couples in it. Fran and I stood in the middle of the 
crowd and, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Fran was definitely 
the object of lustful stares from the males and disgusted glances from the 
females. And, she seemed totally oblivious to the attention she was 
attracting. God, this ga 

ve me an unexpected pleasure. It had been decades since I had last had a 
woman this gorgeous on my arm. 

As soon as the elevator door opened, we stepped out into a sea of people. 
The Friday night southern California crowd was out in force. We started to 
work our way around the perimeter of the casino, heading in the direction 
of the gift shop. Fran continued to attract all sorts of visual attention. 
I mean, there were certainly many ladies in the casino that night who were 
dressed to thrill, but, none could compare to Fran. I've attended numerous 
Vegas stage shows and seen hundreds of topless showgirls and I've got to 
admit, the sheer, lacy film that hugged every curve of Fran's superbly 
shaped upper body, only served to accentuate the natural beauty that she 
was flaunting. The absolute best part of this moment was that she only paid 
attention to me. 

We had to wait for 3 other customers to finish their purchases before Fran 
was able to ask for her two packs of Benson & Hedges Menthol. I paid and 
she thanked me with a quick kiss on the cheek. As soon as we left the 
store, We each lit up cigarettes for the walk to the restaurant. The 
restaurant was on the total other side of the casino and I knew that, 
having to fight our way through the crowd, our walk was going to take 5 to 
10 minutes. When we passed the craps tables, Fran clutched my arm and said, 
"Craps is my favorite casino game. I actually think I'm kind of good at it 
and God, when a table heats up, there aren't many things that are more 
fun." 

I immediately agreed with her. 

We finally made it to the restaurant and were seated at a lovely little 
table overlooking the pool. Despite the fact that the view of the pool at 
night was spectacular, I couldn't help myself from looking around to see 
how all the rest of the patrons were reacting to Fran. The reactions were 
more of the same, which continued to be a macho turn on for me. Within ten 
minutes of our being seated however, my attention had been completely drawn 
away from looking around the restaurant. Fran made sure that my eyes were 
riveted on her. Her smoking style was just so sexy and sophisticated and 
elegant. In short, it was perfect. The way that she held her cigarettes in 
her delicate little hands, the way that she always held her cigarette so 
close to her face, teasing me, never letting me know when she was going to 
take her next drag. God, I couldn't have taken my eyes off of her if I 
wanted to. Fran didn't exactly use her smoking to flirt with me, it was 
more like a visual seduc 

tion. She was an absolute expert in the art of the talking exhale. And yet, 
when she wanted to focus my attention on her voluptuous tits or her 
gorgeous face, she'd do a long, thin stream exhale, and she'd do it at just 
the right moment. She'd focus my attention exactly where she wanted it. 
Except for when we were eating, and it only took Fran about 10 minutes to 
pick at her pasta, she never went longer than about 3 or 4 minutes between 
cigarettes. 

Fran had lots of opportunities to execute her talking exhales because we 
talked non-stop. She was just so easy to talk too. Within an hour, we had 
pretty much told each other our whole life stories. It wasn't like we were 
crying on each other's shoulders or boring each other to tears. It was more 
like two old friends that hadn't seen each other in years. It was like we 
were simply catching up on each other's lives. I found out that she was 31. 
She had a daughter of 13 and a son of 10. She was mostly a stay at home, 
soccer mom, and she beamed with pride when she talked about her children. 
She said her son was quite the athlete, which made sense because his father 
was actually a major league baseball player for 3 years. Unlike his dad 
though, Fran's son played soccer. "He's been on travel soccer teams since 
he was 7." Fran said, then she added. "His dream is to play in college and 
if he keeps working hard and keeps his grades up, he just might get there." 

We each paused to take nice long drags off of our cigarettes. Then Fran 
added, "So Phil, while you're laying out at the pool working on your tan 
and watching all the bronzed cuties running around in their thong bikinis, 
guess what I'll be doing tomorrow afternoon?" 

"Uh, let me guess. You'll be hanging out a soccer fields." 

"You got it. We have games at noon and 6:00, so it pretty much wipes out 
the whole day. But I really love watching him play." 

Then, Fran started talking about her daughter. "She's already my best 
friend and my soul mate. It seems like we can talk about anything and I 
just pray that that doesn't change while she's going through high school. 
But really, she's such a good kid. She gets all A's in school and she's 
turning into such a beautiful young lady. I guess this makes sense because 
her dad was just so handsome. God, when I was a young and foolish girl of 
18, he used to make me melt just by looking at him. Kind of like how you 
make me feel right now." 

I blushed and Fran continued. "But, Phil, you should see her figure. She's 
already about 5'3" and she's developing so nicely. By the time she's 18, I 
think she's going to be a real knockout. I just hope she has a few more 
street smarts than I did at that age." 

"Well Fran, if she takes after her mother, she'll be way beyond a 
knockout." I said sincerely. 

"Oh Phil, you are too kind." She replied. Then added, "You know what? 
Despite all the anti-smoking propaganda and B.S. that they preach at 
school, she actually started smoking about, let me see, I guess it's been 
about 4 months now." 

"No kidding. How'd that come about?" I asked, without trying to sound like 
I was prying. 

Fran answered. "Well one afternoon, kind of out-of-the-blue she just said 
to me, "Mom, I think I want to try smoking." 

"Wow! So what did you say?" I asked. 

"I actually got all choked up and I hugged her. Then, I told her how proud 
I was of her and how I thought she was making an excellent life choice. 
Then, I realized by the look in her face that I was probably overwhelming 
her. I mean, she just wanted to smoke a cigarette. So I gave her one of 
mine, but since it was a Benson & Hedges, I told her not to try inhaling. 
But, Phil, it was so nice smoking that first cigarette with my little girl. 
It reminded me of when I first started smoking with my mom. It was one of 
those special mother-daughter moments." 

"So then what did you do?" I continued. 

Fran paused to take a nice long drag on her cigarette and then after a 
perfect snap inhale, she replied, "We hopped in the car and I bought her 
her first pack of cigarettes. I started her out on Marlboro Lights." 

"So how has she taken to smoking at her tender, young age." I probed. 

"Actually, she's doing great. I still buy her cigarettes because, except 
for the occasional babysitting job, she has no money. She's up to a 
pack-a-day now and about a month ago, she moved up to Marlboro Reds, which 
seems to be the brand of choice among her friends." After answering, she 
paused to take another drag off of her cigarette. 

"Tell me Fran, have you taught her all of your smoking style techniques?" I 
inquired. 

"Oh God no. And, let me tell you Phil, her style is just awful. She smokes 
like a...well, like a teenager. She flicks her ashes with her thumb and 
holds her cigarettes like a boy. Uh, no offense." 

"None taken." I quickly replied. 

"Anyway, she takes fast, relatively weak drags, but lots of them and she 
only does stream exhales. But, here's what I figure, I'll let her develop 
her habit in the same fashion as her friends. That way she'll fit in. The 
only thing that I'll do is buy her a fresh carton when she gets down to 
about 4 unopened packs. That way, she'll never have to worry about where 
her next pack of cigarettes is coming from and, she'll be less likely to 
think about quitting. I mean, it's not like I'm trying to force her to 
smoke or anything, it's just that now that she does, it's so nice having 
another smoker around the house. You don't think that's bad do you?" She 
asked. 

"Oh heavens no. I completely understand. Shoot, if one of my kids had 
started smoking as a teenager, maybe I'd still be married." I answered. 

Fran continued. "So, anyway, when she gets to be 16 or 17 and starts to 
date seriously, I'll work with her on her style so that she becomes an 
interesting and provocative smoker. I'll get her to switch up to a more 
interesting, ladylike cigarette. Something longer, with a white tipped 
filter. Maybe, I'll try to get her to smoke menthols so that the smoke will 
be smoother and cooler going down and she'll be able to smoke a little 
more." 

Then, Fran reached over, laid her hand on mine and chuckled a little as she 
dragged on her cigarette. "Phil, you'll love this. It's just so cute. She's 
actually started to experience her first serious cravings. And, I don't 
think she even realizes that she's having them." 

"Really! How do you know?" I asked. 

"Well, I pick her up everyday from school and during the last couple weeks, 
she has her Marlboro lit before her ass even touches the seat. She needs 
the nicotine so bad that she just wolfs down 5 or 6 strong drags. Her 
cigarette is half smoked before she even begins to tell me about her day." 
She said. 

"Oh that is precious Fran. Tell me, have you talked to her about cravings?" 
I asked. 

"No. And she hasn't asked me about them. That's why I think she doesn't 
even realize that she's having them. This doesn't bother me. I figure she 
has the rest of her life to learn about and manage her cravings." She 
answered. 

I probed a little more. "Fran, have you thought about how much is enough 
for her to smoke at this age?" 

Fran exhaled a long, thin stream of smoke towards the table top, which 
immediately focused my attention on her boobs. Then, she replied, 
"Actually, I have. I'd like her to top out at about a pack and a half a 
day. I mean, that's only a carton a week and I think at that level she'll 
still be able to manage her cravings while she's in school, but then, if 
she wants to do a little chain smoking with her friends, she'll be able to 
handle that as well. Once she's in college, and I hope she goes to college, 
then she can smoke as much as she wants to." 

"Sounds like a good strategy." I advised. 

A couple minutes after we had finished talking about Fran's kids, our 
waiter came by to take our after dinner drink orders. "Would you and the 
lady like to look over our selection of fine cigars?" He asked. 

Fran leaned toward me and with a look of longing in her eyes, she asked, 
"Phil, please, could we?" 

I answered, "Sure. But, I don't know a whole lot about cigars. Maybe you 
can pick out a couple nice ones for us." 

Moments later, the waiter returned with a decent sized, portable humidor. 
Then, Fran and the waiter engaged in an interesting, 5 minute conversation 
about the characteristics and virtues of a dozen different brands of 
cigars. Throughout their discussion, I noticed that she was looking up at 
his face and he was staring down at her tits. But, I've got to admire him 
because he never missed a beat with his evaluations of the various cigars 
in the box. He was very professional. Eventually, Fran selected a couple of 
7 inch Dominicans. Frankly, I didn't even catch the brand name. Fran 
assured me that these cigars would have an easy draw and would be mild, yet 
flavorful. The waiter prepared the ends of each cigar with his plug cutter 
and we fired them up. Then, we began to enjoy the wonderful combination of 
a very good cigar and a very good cognac. 

As soon as the waiter left us, all my attention focused on Fran. If I had 
thought that she looked sexy smoking her cigarettes, I hadn't seen anything 
yet. She literally made love to her cigar. She didn't drag on it nearly as 
frequently as she did her cigarettes, but when she did, Oh my God, it was 
breathtaking. Before each drag, she twirled her tongue around the tip to 
savor the flavor of the tobacco. Then, she inserted a good inch of the 
cigar into her mouth. Her cheek hallowing drags were strong and lasted a 
good 3 seconds. The way that she worked the end of the cigar almost made it 
look as if she was sucking hungrily on the head of a nice long cock. She 
held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds and then she sucked each drag 
deep into her lungs just as easily as if she were smoking a cigarette. Just 
watching her made my cock stiffen to the point where I was uncomfortable 
and I know that she recognized my occasional lapses in conversation, but 
she politely said 

nothing. 

Fran was right. The cigar was both mild and tasty. We smoked our cigars at 
about the same pace and during the first 3 inches, I had no trouble 
matching her inhale for inhale. But, by the time we got to inch number 4, I 
simply couldn't continue inhaling every drag. I started letting about half 
of the smoke escape from my mouth before inhaling the rest. Fran, however, 
didn't miss a beat. As the cigar but became smaller and smaller, she was 
drawing ever larger amounts of smoke into her lungs. Even after holding her 
inhales for a few seconds, her initial stream exhales began to take on the 
silky, thick consistency of un-inhaled pipe tobacco smoke. God, she was so 
incredible. 

The only hints that she may be having a little difficulty handling the 
massive amounts of smoke that she was drawing into her lungs was the fact 
that during the last inch of her cigar, she began to pant rather 
noticeably. During her last 5 or 6 exhales, she also let out the daintiest 
little coughs. Neither of these things seemed to concern her as we easily 
kept up our conversation. Each cigar had about 2 inches of un-smoked length 
left when we finally crushed them out in the ashtray. 

At this point, I just assumed that Fran would probably take a 10 minute 
break from smoking while we finished our drinks. Instead, before our cigars 
had even stopped smoldering in the ashtray, she grabbed her pack of Benson 
& Hedges and I dutifully lit a fresh one for her. Fran leaned toward me on 
her elbows, her sagging tits resting comfortably on the table top. Then, 
she said in a quiet voice, "Tell me Phil, what do you think of my smoking 
habit?" 

I chuckled quietly and said, "You know Fran, I don't think you have a 
smoking habit." 

With that, she sat back and laughed as fresh smoke flowed at intervals from 
her mouth. "Are you kidding me? I am hopelessly addicted to my cigarettes." 

"Yes, I can see that." I said. Then I added, "But I don't even think 
"Addicted" is the right word. To me, it seems like you have a passionate 
love affair with your smoking. You don't just need to smoke, or like to 
smoke, you adore smoking." 

Fran thought for a second and then she replied, "Actually Phil, I think 
you're right. You've captured the essence of my relationship with 
cigarettes. I guess ever since I smoked my first cigarette at 14, I've been 
madly in love with smoking." 

While she continued to smoke her cigarette, we delved a little deeper into 
her smoking experience. When there was only about a half inch of un-smoked 
cigarette left, she executed a wonderfully strong double pump to finish the 
cigarette. Suddenly, Fran launched into a coughing spell that, I'll guess, 
lasted about 20 seconds, although, I'm sure it must have seemed longer to 
her. I think her lungs had finally had enough. 

When her coughing spell finally ended, she lightly pounded her chest a 
couple times and rolled her, now watery, eyes a bit and kind of choked out 
a "Wow! Phil, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to gross you out like that." 

I quickly replied, "Fran, you didn't gross me out. Hey, listen, coughing is 
a natural part of life. I just hope you're ok." 

"You're such a dear man. And, yes, I'm fine. Just let me catch my breath 
for a moment." She said, her voice still not quite back to normal. 

While she was taking a few deep, cleansing breaths, I thought to myself, 
"God, I wasn't grossed out at all. In fact, I was infatuated. Even though 
her spell only lasted for maybe twenty seconds, the whole experience was 
fascinating. There were three distinct phases to her coughing session. The 
first lasted maybe five seconds and was characterized by rather violent and 
loud, barky coughs, as her lungs fought to expel the smoke that was 
irritating them. At first, fairly dense and then, progressively fainter 
clouds of smoke burst out of her mouth with each cough. There was no 
distinct pattern to each new cloud. As soon as she had started coughing, 
she had turned her face away from me and this gave me an opportunity to 
alternate my focus between the clouds of smoke she was generating and her 
rapidly shaking tits. Once the smoke was finally out of her chest, her 
cough segued into a deep chest, raspy hack. This coughing style was quieter 
and less violent. Each individual 

cough lasted a little longer and ended with a subtle, but audible little 
gurgling sound. Phase two lasted a little longer than phase 1. Phase 3 
began when Fran's deep chest coughs finally ended. She spent the next few 
seconds clearing her throat, trying to work the phlegm out of her chest. 
Once she was successful at that, she grabbed her napkin and with a quick 
and dainty motion, she wiped the glob of phlegm from her mouth. Then, she 
used a different part of the napkin to wipe the tears out of her eyes. An 
added bonus from Fran's unintentional coughing spell was that, with all the 
rapid, unrestrained shaking and bouncing that her tits had gone through, 
her nipples were now hard as rocks. They were noticeably thicker and 
extended out about three quarters of an inch. The way that her nubs 
strained against the lacy material that covered them made them look 
perfectly suckable. 

It took Fran at least a couple minutes to fully catch her breath and when 
she did, she said, "Phil, I think I may have to switch to lighter strength 
cigarettes. My beloved Benson & Hedges seem to be giving me the coughs once 
in awhile." 

I looked into Fran's eyes and said, "Darling, that would be a real shame." 

She asked me why and I answered, "Fran, you are the sexiest smoker that 
I've ever had the pleasure to be around. One of the things that makes your 
smoking look so sexy is the myriad of ways that you exhale your smoke. If 
your exhales were less thick and less creamy, they might actually become 
downright boring. So please, if we're ever together again, don't trade down 
on my account." 

"God Phil, I never looked at it that way. Thank you baby for sharing how 
you feel." She replied sincerely. 

At this point, I was absolutely certain that Fran would take at least a 10 
minute break from smoking, but, being the accomplished pro that she was, 
she tapped out a fresh cigarette and I lit it for her, then I fired up one 
of my own. Her first few drags were rather weak, but by the time she was 
half through with this cigarette, her style had returned to normal. 


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