The Tangled Web, Part 1

(by Smokehut, 07 July 2009)

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By Smokehut 

Part 1

When Jake Teasdale was 14, he went to the beach with his 17-year-old 
brother. They camped in a state park because they didn't have enough money 
for a motel and they wanted to get away from their parents, who were only 
too happy to send them on their way. They slept in a camper shell bolted to 
the pickup truck usually used on the farm. 

Each morning, Jake and David walked down to the communal shower and bathed. 
David shaved in the sink there. Then they drove downtown and parked. David 
went his way and Jake went his. They met again at 9 p.m. so that they could 
return to the park before the gates were locked at 10. 

Oh, they did a few things together. They ate pancakes on the way. They went 
to a water park and played a little carpet golf. But three years 
difference is a lot when you're a teenager, and it was agreeable to both 
that they do their own respective things. 

Jake hung out in the area surrounding an amusement park, trolling the 
arcades, munching chili dogs and trying to meet chicks in his age range. 

What he noticed almost immediately was that a lot of people at the beach 
smoked. In particular, it seemed that most of the pretty girls did. Jake 
noticed that girls often wandered away, out of deference to their 
non-smoking friends, to smoke alone or in pairs. Jake finally figured that 
the ocean air didn't actually encourage smoking. All these girls were away 
from home, so they didn't have to hide their habits as much. 

Jake realized that if he could learn how to smoke, it would make a great 
way to meet these girls. It would give them something in common. He 
befriended a group of guys from some town in Kentucky. A couple of them 
smoked. As a group, they decided they'd play carpet golf and lay some money 
on the outcome. 

Luckily, Jake was adept at carpet golf. It wasn't like he played it a lot. 
In fact, he'd never played the kind of golf that requires more than one 
club. He just had a natural ability to see the line. He was good at 
billiards for the same reason. The ball went where he directed it. 

Jake won. Twenty bucks was the take. He walked up to the kid who smoked and 
asked him to go buy him a pack. Jake give him five bucks to make it worth 
his while. 

"What kind you want?" the kid, whose name was Ethan, asked. 

"I never done it before," said Jake. "What you think?" 

"I'll get you some Marlboro Lights. And a lighter." 

When Ethan returned, Jake stuffed the cigarettes and the Bic lighter into 
one of the lower pockets of his cargo shorts. He didn't light up because he 
didn't want to look like an amateur. He had to do this right, so he 
gradually separated himself from the group.  "Hey, I gotta go, but it was 
nice hangin' out with you guys. If you're back up here tomorrow, I'll meet 
you." For the rest of the day he watched pretty girls smoke. He 
found himself attracted to them. He watched how they lit the cigarettes, 
how they drew the smoke into their lungs and how they expelled the smoke. 
Some took small drags and exhaled thin, barely discernible streams of 
smoke. Others hollowed their cheeks and took in enormous amounts of smoke, 
held it in for what seemed like an enjoyable interlude, then exhaled, 
sending out a veritable explosion of smoke. Some opened their mouths and 
what looked like a ball of smoke stood in place for a split seconds, then 
disappeared into their lungs. 

Jake found all this, uh, exciting. His dick stiffened. He wanted badly to 
smoke because he wanted badly to get to know these smoking girls, these 
rebellious bohemians who were a little bad. 

The thought of bad girls appealed to Jake. 

An older girl rode back to the campground that night with David and Jake. 
His brother didn't have to tell him to take a walk. Jake needed an excuse. 
He walked down to the pavilion of the state park, where there was a small 
amphitheater and carpet-golf course bordering the oceanfront. It was closed 
and deserted. Jake walked past it out on to the beach. After walking a 
quarter mile or so, Jake spied a set of deserted park benches at the end of 
a small, sandy trail that worked its way up through the sea oats. 

There he taught himself to smoke. At first he didn't have the knack of 
inhaling, but the visual notes he had in his head came in handy. After 
coughing the first couple of times, he managed to execute a fairly light 
inhale and exhale. He grew lightheaded. It felt wonderful. He began walking 
back toward the beach. He grew nauseated and had to sit down amid the sea 
oats. Then he closed his eyes and dropped backward, lying on his back. 
Sweat popped out on his forehead, but with his eyes closed, he concocted 
visions of beautiful women smoking. As the nausea lifted, so did Jake's 
shorts. Jake couldn't resist. He grabbed his member and began pumping it. 
Realizing just in time that he didn't want to jack off straight up in the 
air, Jake rolled over on his side and pelted the green, prickly bushes with 
giz. Then he sat back up and lit his second cigarette. This time smoking it 
was no problem at all. 

Smoking of itself wasn't something that had much appeal for Jake. He smoked 
maybe one or two a week, usually when he stole a cigarette from the pack of 
either his mother or, less often, his dad. Jake didn't so much want to 
smoke as he wanted to stay in practice. He wanted to be cool. Occasionally 
he and a friend would sneak a smoke when the opportunity presented itself. 
If someone else lit up, Jake didn't turn down an offer. 

Football was a birthright in Jake's family. His father had starred at the 
high school Jake, David and sister Alicia, who was a year older than Jake 
and two younger than David, attended the same school. That fall David 
started at tight end for the Wildcats. Alicia was a junior-varsity 
cheerleader. Jake starred at quarterback for the undefeated freshman team. 
He started getting attention in the local paper, and the talk around town 
was that the Wildcats were going to contend for the state championship once 
Jake reached his senior year. Being the center of attention made security a 
particularly damning problem for Jake, who learned that seeming perfection, 
on the field and off, was demanded of him. 

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