Gretchen Visits Her Sisters

(by HagenMrk@aol.com, 27 October 2000)


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Gretchen Visits Her Sisters
HagenMrk@aol.com

This is a sequel to last year's Gretchen: Chain-Smoking Goddess story.  Any 
comments should be directed to my new e-mail address, HagenMrk@aol.com   Hope 
you enjoy!

Heading westward on the Southern Minnesota freeway, my eyes are lost in 
Gretchen as she drives, cigarette dangling between her lips as always.  She 
was talking with frustration about visiting her sisters, who had went to work 
on a farm in southwest Minnesota for the summer, but it very hard for me to 
concentrate on her words.  She was muttering her reservations about visiting 
her sisters in the presence of her parents, who are always critical of 
Gretchen's "bad influence" over her sisters.  As she talked, the cigarette in 
her mouth was bouncing up and down as she effortlessly dragged on it between 
sentences and then started talking again as jets of smoke poured out of her 
nostrils and added to the cloudy haze of smoke in the stuffy car.  Gretchen 
preferred the windows rolled up and the air conditioner on in the humid 
August weather.  Although the smoke in the enclosed car bothered me a little, 
I certainly was not complaining about it.   I looked in my rearview mirror to 
notice that Gretchen's parents, who were following us, were nowhere to be 
seen, unable to keep up with Gretchen's high-speed driving.  As Gretchen 
continues to ramble on that "whenever the entire family meets, they all end 
up ganging up on her,"  I stare at her, pretending to be interested in what 
she's saying, but really am focused on the long ash at the end of her 
cigarette falling to her smooth tan legs.   The ash lands about an inch from 
the fringes of her tight cutoffs, and Gretchen is oblivious to it.  

After a couple more quick drags, Gretchen gets to the filter of her 
cigarette, removes it from her mouth, and extinguishes it into an ashtray in 
her cup holder, already filled with the butts of over a dozen cigarettes she 
has already smoked in the hour we've been in the car.  I'm so mesmerized 
watching her that I fail to remember my responsibility.  She finally looks at 
me cravingly and then peers down to the pack of Marlboro 100's I'm holding in 
my hand and clears her throat in a "hint, hint" kind of way.  Finally, my 
daydream is disrupted and I quickly act on Gretchen's wishes, removing a 
fresh Marlboro 100 from the pack and inserting it into Gretchen's mouth, then 
lighting it.  After I light her up, Gretchen turns forward again, now able to 
concentrate on driving again.  She takes an enormous double-pump on her 
cigarette before proceeding with voicing her frustrations.  "I just know my 
sisters and partying and getting into no end of trouble at this farm, and 
somehow, it's all gonna be my fault!"  Gretchen stares down to the box of 
fine cigars she bought at a tobacco shop on her way, tempted to light one up, 
but is able to resist.  As she takes another intense drag on her cigarette, 
the long, unstable ash again falls to her lap, landing at the edge of her 
tight denim cutoffs and her perfectly-shaped calf.  My desire gets the best 
of me as Gretchen begins another speel, "What really pisses me off is that-." 
 I then interrupt her by leaning forward and placing my finger over my mouth, 
motioning her for silence, then placing my finger over her mouth as well.  
Her initial reaction of insult quickly fades as I then lower my finger to her 
leg and begin to crush the cigarette ash on her shorts and leg, then 
arousingly twirling my finger around to smear the ash on her perfect skin.  I 
run my finger up her shorts and onto her crotch, and can tell she is becoming 
intensely aroused as she drags furiously on her cigarette, flicking ashes 
throughout the car and the cigarette bounces between her lips like a yo-yo.  

Gretchen looks forward to notice a freeway exit ahead and signals to exit.  I 
knew what was on her mind as she gets off the freeway, disregarding the fact 
that her parents were following.  She drives a couple miles through the 
countryside before turning onto a sparse gravel road and pulling over.  She 
takes one final drag from her current cigarette, crushes in the ashtray, then 
forcefully takes the pack and lighter from my hands, pulls out two 
cigarettes, and lights herself up.  I then watch with awe as she removes her 
T-shirt, bra, and shorts with a crazed lust in her eyes.  I sit perfectly 
still, awaiting a wild performance which I knew I was going to get.  She then 
leaps towards me and I view her perfect figure almost in slow motion.  Her 
firm breasts, her beautifully-sculpted face, and her lion-like natural blond 
hair running a few inches past her shoulders.  She finally lands on top of me 
and the smell of stale smoke absolutely engulfs me, especially on her hair.  
As she removes my jeans and we begin to have sex, I am completely at her 
mercy.


An hour later, Gretchen and I arrive at the farm house where her sisters were 
staying to find that Gretchen's parents car was already there.  We approach 
the door and are greeted by the friendly elderly farm couple and discover 
Gretchen's sisters standing behind them.  As I was the other times I met 
them, I was temporarily speechless at the beauty, and the déjà vu feeling I 
experienced, as I looked at Gretchen's sisters, 17-year-old Tina, and 
15-year-old Melissa.  The girls were dressed in virtually identical tight 
tanktops and short cutoffs as Gretchen was, each had absolutely perfect 
bodies, natural blond hair, and each stood with freshly-lit Marlboro 100's 
dangling from their lips.  While the girls did look like sisters, a closer 
look made it clear that they were not twins since each had unique, but 
equally gorgeous, facial structures.  The always-friendly Tina and Melissa 
first greeted their sister, then turned to me and hugged me warmly.  Neither 
girl removed the cigarette from her mouth even as they hugged me and their 
hair and clothes smelled as much like stale smoke as Gretchen's.  I hugged 
them back and prolonged the hugs to savor the girl's smoky odors for as long 
as possible.

When the girls parted along with the smoky smell, but nose cleared to smell 
the unmistakable odor of chicken being fried in the kitchen.  Nine places 
were set at the table and the elderly housewife exclaimed, "Well, dinner 
should be ready soon, so go ahead and sit up."  

We all did exactly that and as we were sitting, Gretchen's father looked at 
her and said, "What happened to you two?"

Gretchen looked at me with a mischievous grin before answering, "We had to 
take a detour."

Her father looked puzzled.  "Really, we didn't run into a detour."

"I know," Gretchen answered with another naughty smile, which finally tipped 
her father off to what she meant.  It made me uncomfortable that she was so 
willing to tell her father about our sexual escapades, but that was the way 
she was and would always be.

Gretchen, Melissa, and Tina sat at the table smoking cigarettes, with 
ashtrays sitting right next to their plates.  It struck me that the farm 
couple was most likely non-smokers and I was surprised that they would be so 
accepting of allowing the girls to smoke in their home, which was clearly 
being affected by the girls' heavy smoking.  The tobacco odor was almost as 
thick as Gretchen's car, home, and dorm room from college and a faint yellow 
nicotine stain could be seen forming on the couple's white walls.

Moments later, the woman brought a platter with fried chicken and all nine of 
us were soon feasting.  The three girls continued to smoke through their 
meal.  Conversation soon ensued as the housewife and husband complimented 
Gretchen's parents on what fine daughters they have raised.  This struck 
Gretchen and her parents who had known the girls to be quite a handful.  The 
conversation then proceeded and we found out that these chickens we were 
eating were actually butchered and feathered by Tina and Melissa.  The more 
this conversation went on, the more shocked Gretchen's family appeared to be 
to hear that Melissa and Tina were actually taking this farm job seriously 
and were really being put to work.  Everybody had originally believed the 
girls' motivations for this job was to get away from home and be free to 
party and have sex and generally be irresponsible.  However, whenever the 
girls spoke, their maturity and growth was very clear and their family could 
not believe how much the girls had changed. 

When we finished with our meal, Gretchen pulled out dessert-the box of cigars 
she had bought earlier.  Since her parents didn't know about the purchase and 
disapproved of their daughters smoking cigars, they gave Gretchen an unhappy 
look as she showed the box of fine cigars to her younger sisters.  Oblivious 
to their parents disapproval, the girls wasted no time lighting up their 
cigars and I was in heaven watching the three of them drag on the large 
cigars as heavily as they had been dragging on their cigarettes.  The 
conversation continued among the group, but I contributed little since I was 
the outsider of the bunch and was too perplexed by the sight of the beautiful 
cigar smokers to find much interest in the conversation.  Tina and Melissa 
went on to explain their work routine, which varied day by day.  They had a 
very physical and demanding schedule of taking care of animals, removing 
rocks and debris from a pasture about to be converted into a crop field, and 
other varied tasks in the fields.  While it was easy for Gretchen and I to 
listen to this with a distant interest, it was the farmer's next comment that 
finally got our full and undivided attention.

"I hope you kids are listening hard because you will be joining them 
tomorrow," he said with a grin, that soon spread to everybody else at the 
table except Gretchen and I.  It was obvious that this had been planned for 
some time by the others, and while we didn't raise a fuss about it, we were 
not exactly happy at the idea of going on what we thought would be a fun and 
relaxing vacation, only to find out we were gonna get put to work.

The dinner party soon subsided and Gretchen, her sisters, and I proceeded to 
the bedroom where the girls slept and talked for a couple hours.  The girls 
bragged about increasing their smoking consumption to four packs a day while 
on the farm.  Gretchen countered that she was still working at an office job 
at her dad's company, had talked him into lifting the smoking ban in the 
office, and was now smoking five packs a day.  It was evident by observing 
the girls that even though Tina and Melissa were smoking more and inhaling 
more deeply than when I had been with them before, they still could not 
compete with Gretchen on either of the two.  The girls talked and smoked, 
including me in their conversation frequently, until we went to bed at 10:30. 
 This was too early for Gretchen and I, but we knew we would have to get up 
early to do the farm work.  Gretchen and I slept in a cozy cot that the 
couple brought in for guests while Melissa and Tina each slept on a bunk bed. 
 Being a light sleeper, I found myself lying awake long after Melissa, Tina, 
and Gretchen went to sleep.  I was used to Gretchen's noisy sleeping 
pattern-a combination of snoring and wheezing as her smoked-out lungs were 
struggling to function properly without the constant intake of smoke that 
they were used to.  However, I noticed that Melissa and Tina made the same 
annoying noises as they slept.  They were cute at first, but the thought of 
facing the hard workday with little or no sleep was bothering me.  When I 
finally did start to nod off, one of the girls would inevitably wake up to a 
coughing fit, then desperately rise up to reach for a cigarette to satisfy an 
intense craving.  I would give a silent smile to whichever girl got up for a 
smoke when she noticed that I was awake.  

I did manage to get a couple hours of sleep that night, but the 6 AM alarm 
went off way too soon.  Seconds after the four of us awoke to the buzzing 
alarm, the room filled with the sounds of sexy feminine coughing as Tina, 
Melissa, and Gretchen each let loose a couple straight minutes of hacking 
smokers' coughs.  The girls wasted no time after rising before lighting up 
their first of many cigarettes of the day, and smoking it down almost with 
every breath.  Gretchen in particular would breathe directly from her 
cigarette for her first couple cigarettes of the day.  Within a half hour, 
the four of us were as ready as we would ever be for a long day of grueling 
work that began with feeding animals.  The four of us went out to the pig and 
chicken barns, all three girls carrying their own cartons of Marlboro 100's 
with them wherever they went.  They all were wearing jean shorts and had open 
packs of cigarettes stuffed in their back pockets, offering them easy access 
to new cigarettes as they worked.  Gretchen and I listened to Tina and 
Melissa's directions as we entered a barn full of pigs.  As much as I tried 
to listen, I was struck by the dozens of cigarette butts lying on the dirt 
floor of the barn, all obviously smoked by Tina and Melissa earlier in the 
summer.  The directions continued for a few more minutes until we each went 
our separate ways to conduct four different tasks.  I was fetching water for 
chickens and hogs, each of which were being raised for slaughter at nearby 
meat and poultry-processing plants.  Gretchen was responsible for getting the 
hogs their feed, while Tina and Melissa did other odds and ends, always with 
a cigarette comfortably planted between their lips.  Gretchen and I both got 
a crash-course in milking cows after we finished our first tasks.

It was only 9:00, but the day seemed endless already.  However, it was about 
to get worse as Melissa and Tina informed us that we would be spending the 
rest of our day clearing rocks out of a pasture that the farmer was preparing 
to grow crops in the following year.  Feeling the 9:00 sun beating down so 
hard that we were already sweating, Gretchen and I knew we had a long, hot 
workout ahead of us.  

The day wore on and proved me exactly right.  I was definitely getting my 
biggest workout that summer.  I had had summer jobs and grew up in an 
environment where I had done this kind of miserable work before, but it had 
been a long time.  Gretchen, however, seemed to be getting the workout of her 
life as she struggled with the intense heat and her physically unfit shape.  
She never quit smoking the whole day, but was wheezing and gasping for breath 
and taking many short breaks as the day went on.  Meanwhile, Tina and Melissa 
performed like professional athletes, working harder and faster than Gretchen 
and I, and making their workout seem almost effortless.  The cigarettes they 
lit one after another as they worked didn't seem to affect their stamina in 
the least.  As I observed Gretchen when she took some of her breaks, I could 
see that I wasn't the only person who was impressed with Tina and Melissa's 
performance.  Watching her sisters, I could almost read Gretchen's thoughts, 
wondering why she didn't take greater steps to keep her body in shape so that 
her smoking would not take so much out of her physically.  She seemed to be 
admiring of her sister's for realizing this and the thought popped into her 
mind that she had just gotten the point of this grueling workday planned by 
her sisters and her parents.  The same thought ran through my mind, but as I 
looked at my watch to see it was only 2:00 and that I had two more miserable 
hours of rock-picking left, I wondered why I had to suffer to get this point 
across to Gretchen.

By 4:00, we were all noticeably beaten down and drenched to the core in 
sweat, none of us more than Gretchen, who had a certain sexy blue-collar 
appeal with dirt on her face and clothes and her normally perfect hair 
dripping with perspiration.  If I wasn't so incredibly tired, I may have 
acted on my lustful feelings towards Gretchen's appearance.  We all walked to 
the house in silence until Gretchen finally muttered, "Don't think I'll be 
going out this Friday night".  Nobody bothered to reply fully aware that we 
were gonna be back to work the next morning.

That night at supper though, Gretchen and I were in for a surprise when the 
farmer told us that the next day we would be going to town to sell sweet corn 
on the street corner.  Tina and Melissa already knew this news, but Gretchen 
and I were elated to discover we would not have to endure a repeat 
performance of today.  All three girls chain-smoked Marlboro 100's throughout 
the meal and lit up another round of cigars after they finished eating, once 
again arousing me but drawing cringes from Gretchen's disapproving parents.

The next morning, the four of us went five miles into town to sell the sweet 
corn the farmer had grown at the corner of a mini-mall parking lot.  Since we 
were stationed at the crossroads of two busy highways, the volume of cars was 
heavy, even in the early morning.  It didn't take long at all for the 
gorgeous and shapely girls, once again clad in skimpy tanktops and tight jean 
shorts, to receive an onslaught of honking horns and whistles from awestruck 
male motorists, who were undoubtedly awestruck by the fact that the girls 
were also constantly smoking cigarettes.  The girls sat a small picnic table 
they brought with and each brought their own ashtrays.  The small ashtrays 
were each overflowing by noon and the girls begin to drop their cigarettes to 
the ground and crush them with their shoes throughout the afternoon.  I 
volunteered to pick us up some lunch at a nearby McDonald's and drove past a 
handful of other local sweet corn vendors operating in other parking lots who 
seemed to be getting little business.  I laughed as I arrived back at 
Gretchen, Tina, and Melissa's stand to find five customers standing in line 
to be waited on, and thought to myself what a shrewd salesman that old farmer 
was to have these gorgeous blondes on his payroll.  The other sweet corn 
vendors seemed to be noticing too, ever time they looked our way.

As the day went on, the business waned slightly and the girls were able to 
smoke their cigarettes at a continuum lighting one with the butt of another 
the entire afternoon, and never going more than a couple seconds without a 
burning cigarette in either their hand or mouth.  Tina and Melissa began to 
show their wild side a bit more in the afternoon as well, flirting with as 
many male customers as they could, no matter what their age.  Guys would 
watch in awe as Tina and Melissa would stretch and bend to pick up and bag 
sweet corn for them, always keeping a cigarette between their lips as they 
worked.  Towards the end of the day, Tina and Melissa appeared particularly 
interested in a couple of boys about their ages who stopped to make a corn 
purchase and the girls ended up swapping telephone numbers with the boys and 
making a double-date with them for that night.   The boys seemed elated, as 
giddy smiles appeared and stayed on their faces and the crotches of their 
jeans expanded while watching the beautiful girls drag heavily from their 
cigarettes while flirting.  Gretchen couldn't help but giggle while watching 
her sisters in actions, reminding her of her own high-school days when she 
unashamedly exploited her own smoking habit to appeal to guys who she knew 
couldn't resist.

By 4:00, we decided to close the stand for the day.  As we were about to 
leave, I looked down to notice a sea of cigarette butts on the ground 
surrounding the table where we had been sitting.  Seeing all of these 
cigarette butts, it finally struck me what an incredible volume of tobacco 
these girls smoke every day.  I savored the thought as I continued to help 
pack up to go back to the farm.  

That night, Gretchen and I were still winded from the day before and from 
sitting out in the intense August sun all day today.  We were not about to go 
out for a night on the town like Tina and Melissa were going to.  Gretchen 
smiled as she watched her sister's exit the house, dressed in sexy 
attire-Tina in tight red shirt and black leather mini-skirt, Melissa in a 
white short-sleeved sweater with black leather pants.  The girls looked 
absolutely stunning and the cigarettes they were smoking only enhanced their 
appeal.  Gretchen and I wished them a good, safe evening  before they left, 
while we sat and watched movies for the evening, enjoying each other's 
company as Gretchen rested her head on my shoulders and cuddled up to me the 
whole evening,  smoking a steady stream of cigarettes throughout the evening. 
 I could feel her body expand and contract every time she inhaled and exhaled 
off of her cigarettes, and I felt aroused every time I felt it.

On Sunday morning, we were getting ready to leave already.  We all attended 
Sunday mass at the request of the devout farm family that had been graciously 
hosting us for the weekend.  Then Gretchen, Tina, and Melissa spent an hour 
or so alone talking "sister stuff" while I sat outside watching TV, unable to 
quit thinking about what the girls might be talking about between drags on 
their cigarettes.

Within and hour, our convoy of two cars was back on the road headed eastward 
once again.  Gretchen insisted on driving again and I didn't object.  The 
return trip was much more serene than the trip there however. Gretchen's 
endless bickering about her sisters' lifestyles from the trip there was 
replaced by a pleasant smile, a smile of understanding.  Gretchen appeared to 
feel that not only had her sisters matured considerably from this summer on 
the farm, but that they had managed to mature her a little bit as well,  a 
far different outcome than what she expected three days earlier.  Gretchen 
drags effortlessly on her cigarette while staring ahead in a daydream.  Once 
again, a long ash drops from her cigarette onto lap.  I look ahead to see a 
freeway exit, then smile and approach the ash once again with my finger, 
confident that Gretchen will feel a desire to take the exit just as she had 
done three days earlier.


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