Article 4918 of alt.sex.fetish.smoking:
Subject: 'first' cigarette
Date: Sun, 10 Dec 1995 17:40:23 +0000
Organization: Atlas Internet
X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0b2 (Macintosh; I; 68K)
I too have been interested to read other peoples stories of smoking
and their first cigarettes. When I tell my friends of my story they
are all amazed. To me, at the time, it was the most natural thing in
the world, but I see now that I was lucky to have a very
broad-minded mother who treated me like an adult from a very early
My story goes:
I had been secretly smoking since I was 11. Living alone with my
mother, she had been much more casual about smoking than my father.
I had been 'borrowing' cigarettes from her packs for months and
sneaking out behind the garage for a quick drag before she came home
from work. That particlar evening we were returning from visiting my
grandparents just before my twelfth birthday.
My mother was driving and I was sitting in the front of the car next
to her. The road was busy and she asked me to lean over and pass her
her handbag. I reached down and put it on my lap, opening it and
guessing that she was going to ask me to pass her the pack of
cigarettes inside. But instead, she asked me to take one out for her
- she said the road was too busy for her to look away.
"Could you light it for me?" she asked casually, "It's too dangerous
for me to look down" "OK" I said, aware that she was testing me.
There were only a few in the pack and I took out a single cigarette
and put it between my lips. I found her lighter in the bottom of her
handbag and with a gentle squeeze lit it and brought the flame up to
the end of the cigarette. Sucking gently I moved the flame onto the
end of the cigarette watching the end glow brightly and remembering
not to inhale too obviously.
I passed the cigarette cautiously over to her and watched her draw
on it. A cloud of smoke filled the car.
"You can have one if you want" she said suddenly. I didn't know
what to do for a second or two. I looked sideways at her and said
"OK" trying not to sound too eager. I opened the packet again, this
time my hands were trembling a little, and took another one out.
Putting it to my lips I could see my mother looking over. I squeezed
the lighter again and brought the flame nervously to my cigarette.
This time I did inhale and it felt good.
We smoked in silence for a few miles, my mother distracted by the
heavy traffic, and me by the surprise of her suggestion. A couple of
other drivers looked twice when they saw me in the passenger seat
smoking, but I smiled back and carried on enjoying the novelty of it
I felt a little light-headed, but I smoked it to the stub, the smoke
tasting rich and thick, too excited to waste any of it. Deliberately
I crushed it out in the ashtray, feeling its heat on my young
fingers and wishing I could have smoked it for longer.
No more was said until we reached a village when my mother stopped
the car outside the village shop. She reached into her handbag and
brought out her purse. Giving me some money she asked me to run into
the shop and get her a couple of packs of cigarettes.
When I returned to the car she had already lit another cigarette but
had not put the pack away. "There's one left if you want it" she
said. Did I want it! I put the two new packs down on my lap and took
the last cigarette. My mother passed me her lighter. I was pleased
and took a long drag. "You can have one of those packs if you want"
she said. "I know that you've been stealing mine and I don't like to
think of you having to sneak out the back all the time."
By the time we got home we had both finished our cigarettes and
spent the next ten minutes unpacking the car. My pocket bulged with
my new pack; I was desperate to open them, but didn't know when to
do it. After all it was one thing to smoke in the car, but another
thing to smoke in the house. I needn't have worried. After tea my
mother opened her new pack of cigarettes and offered one to me. I
took it and lit it before leaning over and lighting hers.
I felt so good, sitting there in front of the TV with my mother,
ashtray between us, laughing at the comedy show.
Later, when I went to bed I gently unwrapped my pack, and using an
old pot for an ashtray I smoked a cigarette before going to sleep
with the new pack on the bedside table next to me.
During the subsequent months my mother always allowed me to smoke
whenever I wanted to. Be it in restaurants, in the car or just at
home. My friends were amazed, and our house was always very popular
after school when they would all come round for a cigarette in the
warmth, rather than behind the school sheds.
Twenty years later, my attitude to smoking is still as relaxed. I
don't smoke excessively, and still enjoy a cigarette with my mother.
However, I still enjoy seeing young people smoking and I still get
that same thrill of watching them light up a cigarette in public
And there it is. My story. I hope you found it interesting and I
would be fascinated to hear from others as to how they 'started'