The Kitchen Sink | |
Index by date |
Index by author |
Index by subject Smoking From All Sides ( Glamor - Pics | Female Celebrity Smoking List ) [ Printer friendly version ] | |
|
THE KITCHEN SINK I was fifteen years old, on the football practice field of my junior high school. One day during summer practice, the coach called me over to the sideline. "Don, I've noticed that your running time has gotten a little slower lately, and you're not hitting your positions on the plays as quickly as you once did. Four times today, you were a couple of steps from your mark when the ball was ready to be thrown. Have you been sick lately?" I replied, "No, sir. Nothing's wrong." "Have you been eating enough, getting enough sleep, taking care of yourself?" "Yes, sir", I answered, afraid of where this was going. He looked at his clipboard, where he had the list of my sprinting times, weight room records, and other training stats. "You haven't been smoking again, have you?" At this, I guess I hesitated just a little too long before lying, "No, sir, I haven't." His eyes narrowed into slits, and he gave me a hard glare out of the corner of one of them. "You remember our conversation about that, don't you?" Did I ever! He had caught me sneaking a smoke in the woods behind the field one day after practice. He had given me a long lecture about how it would get my wind, decrease my stamina, and otherwise affect my long-term health. "If this ever happens again, I'll be looking for another running back", he had said in his most menacing, low hiss. At this reminder of that conversation, I stammered, "Y-Yes, sir, I remember, Coach." "Well, then, why don't we work on getting you back up to speed with ten hours of extra sprints each week...Starting right NOW." Well, by the end of practice that day, I thought that my throat and lungs were on fire. Right then I vowed never to touch another cigarette. It would take about two months of this extra work to get me back into my old condition. As soon as I got home that evening, I went into my bedroom closet and peeled back the loose corner of the carpet. Under this was hidden the pack of Marlboros that I had stolen from my father. I then headed into the kitchen, after confirming that the coast was clear, and put the pack in the bottom of a half-full garbage basket. So now my smoking days were over! Even after today's ordeal it wouldn't be easy, since both of my parents were heavy smokers. They were so hypocritical, smoking like a pair of chimneys, but threatening to kick MY ass if they ever even suspected that I touched a cigarette. In retrospect, I know that they only had my well-being in mind. They both said that they wished that they could quit, but at the time this just rang so false to me. It was obvious how much they enjoyed smoking, so why should they want to deny me that enjoyment? Of course, it's now known that the reason it's so difficult to quit is the powerfully addictive nature of nicotine. This would make my decision to quit all the more difficult. I had started experimenting with cigarettes when I was twelve. I was a closet smoker, for fear that my parents or my coach would find out. Since this was such a clandestine activity, it took a couple of years before I smoked enough to get really hooked. The nicotine cravings were especially hard to withstand while at home with two family members who were heavy smokers. I found that I could prowl into the basement and sneak a smoke by the furnace blower and allow the intake to draw the smoke away. This would blow the smell all over the house, but with two heavy smokers in the house, nobody ever noticed. In fact, I was successful in hiding my smoking until the day the coach caught me. I was in the woods just a little too close to the practice field for the smell to escape his notice. So I quit cold turkey to avoid losing my position on the team. After the initial withdrawal was over, it wasn't too difficult to withstand, once I realized that my own smoking was not nearly as stimulating as observing WOMEN smoking. There was just something strangely erotic in every single move of a female smoker. From the moment I'd realize that a girl or woman smokes, when I'd first notice a pack of cigarettes in her hand or purse, or catch a whiff of tobacco on her breath or hair, I would casually position myself to observe her without her noticing. Watching from a distance would have to suffice, as I had never dated a smoker. All of the girls I had dated were athletes also, so they knew better than to start smoking. After my senior year was over, I was looking forward to college. I had been granted a football scholarship at the regional university. I had been working summers with my dad, who was a plumber. This year, there would be only two weeks to earn a little spending change before packing up and leaving for summer football training. About a week after school was out, my dad and I got home from work on a residential construction project. It was pretty sweaty work, since it was the first week in June, and summer was officially only a couple of weeks away. After a day of cutting, fitting, and soldering pipes, a long hot shower and shave felt luxurious. I borrowed my dad's car keys, and loaded up my fishing gear. My favorite fishing hole was two hours' drive away, and I would be spending the night in my pup tent. The charts said that a peak in fishing activity could be expected starting at 5:00 a.m., and I didn't want to miss it. This would be my last opportunity in a long time. I said goodbye to my parents and pulled out of the drive. As I turned the bend out of sight of the house, my neighbor, Mrs. Hoffman, ran across her lawn to the sidewalk, motioning for me to stop. I stopped the car and rolled down my window. "Hello, Mrs. Hoffman. How're you doing?" She stepped up to the car window. "Hi, Don. Thanks for stopping. I'm sorry to bother you, but the pipe under my drain has broken, there's a bad smell in the kitchen, and there's water in the cabinet beneath. Could you come inside and see what the problem is?" "Sure, Mrs. Hoffman, let's see what's going on." Damn. This could cause me to get to my campsite after dark. I pulled into her driveway and got the toolbox out of the trunk. Mrs. Hoffman stood in the doorway to show me to her kitchen sink. She had apparently just awakened; she was wearing a pink nylon nightgown under a lightweight white cotton bathrobe. She worked nights as a nurse at the hospital, so she usually wasn't even seen outside until after four p.m. She and her husband had divorced almost a year ago after an often-stormy relationship. I could remember more than once seeing a police car heading around the corner to stop just out of sight of our home. Usually the next day my mother would tell me she had heard from one of the neighbors that Mr. Hoffman came home drunk, and in a violent mood. She had endured his abuse for eleven years, then placed a restraining order on him. She got the house in the settlement, and he moved out of state afterward. I had once had a crush on her when I was in grade school. She was a young bride, just out of high school when she and her husband moved into the neighborhood. Back then she had long, dark brown hair that she allowed to hang freely down her back. It was also a plus that she was a smoker. She had such a sweet personality that was accentuated by the feminine way that she smoked. Once when she visited us at our house, I sat next to her just to watch her smoke. When she exhaled, she would turn her face to avoid blowing smoke into my face; this was just fine with me, as it provided me with a stunning profile view of her exhalations. Sadly, for me anyway, she had quit last year. "It's right this way, Don. Once again, I'm sorry to bother you". As I entered the door, I said, "It's no problem, Mrs. Hoffman." She shut the door. "First thing, Don, is that I now go by Miss Taylor; I no longer want anything to do with MISTER Hoffman, including his name. Second, I'm only twenty-nine years old, so please just call me Gayle." "Oh. Sure, Gayle. Let's see your kitchen sink." She led me into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a puddle of water and sludge standing on the floor under the sink. I opened the cabinet under the sink, got down on the floor, and saw the problem. The trap had corroded through. The smell she mentioned was the sewer gas that was now drifting through the open drain pipe. "My sink's been draining slowly, so I've been using a plunger and a clog-busting solution. I woke up this afternoon and found it like this." "Well, Gayle, it looks like that solution ate through your trap. The hardware store should have one just like it in stock", I said as I studied the trap. "Oh, that's great." Just then I heard behind me the click of a lighter. I looked around, and saw that she had just lit a Salem 100. This was a pleasant surprise. "Oh, I started smoking again about a month ago. You'd think a nurse would know better, wouldn't you? There was all this stress with the divorce, and my willpower just disappeared. If it bothers you, I'll take it outside." "Oh, no, Gayle, it doesn't bother me at all", I tried not to sound too interested. "What I need to do is to wipe up the water from the floor, remove your old trap, check your waste pipe to see if it looks corroded too, and just fit the new one on if everything else looks o.k." While I was explaining this, she was nodding her head; her left arm was folded across her chest, and her right hand held her Salem to the side of her head. She slowly brought the cigarette to her lips, which opened slightly, then sealed onto the filter. Her fingers parted into a V as her lips supported the cigarette, which was now glowing even in the late summer daylight. As she drew on it, her lips pointed it toward the ceiling, then back at me. After a few more seconds, her fingers then closed onto the cigarette, which she once again moved to the side of her head, the filter almost resting against her right temple. She then reopened her mouth slightly to allow a small dense cloud to drift out from between her lips before retreating down her throat. The inhalation was audible as her full breasts rose to make room for the smoke. It was very difficult for me not to stare at her intensely. "How much do you think this will be, Don?" She asked. "Well, Gayle, the new trap is pretty cheap. As for the labor...well, if you have a cold beer in your refrigerator, we can call it even." She smiled as her lips pursed to expel the smoke with a sharp "wheeeew". "Well, that sounds like a fair deal", she beamed. She gave me the money to buy a new sink trap. I went out to my car to the hardware store, which was only a mile away. I had the trap back to Gayle's house after 10 minutes. I knocked on the door. "It's open, Don", she called from the kitchen. When I entered the kitchen, I saw that she had cleaned most of the mess off the floor and cabinet. She was sweating from the exertion. "This shouldn't take too long", I said as I got onto the floor. "Do you mind if I watch you work?" "Not at all." "OK, I'll just sit at the table." As I positioned my toolbox, she took off her bathrobe, leaving her dressed only in her nightgown. "It's hot in here", she observed. Now I was starting to feel a bit warm myself. As I took out a wrench to loosen the trap, I heard her lighter click again, followed by a soft gasp as she filled her lungs with smoke. How could I watch her smoking without being too obvious about it? I then remembered that in my toolbox was a small mirror attached to a short handle. I used this to see around tight spaces while doing construction work. I casually reached into my toolbox and pulled out another wrench, with the mirror also cupped into my hand. Carefully, I positioned the mirror in the dark corner of the cabinet so I could see her without her noticing the mirror. What I saw was a stunning sight. The sun was just now low enough in the sky that it backlit her through the window. She wasn't really watching me after all, but reading her newspaper and holding her Salem. She was sitting down at the table, wearing her nightgown and, it appeared, nothing underneath. Her beautiful form was visible from the light as it filtered through her gown. She moved her Salem slowly to her lips. As she drew on it, her breasts moved back as she exhaled through her nose to make room for the smoke. When she inhaled, her nipples surged forward, protruding through the fabric of the gown. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, she blew out a fantastic stream of smoke that went from her table into the living room. After she had apparently expelled all the smoke, she filled her lungs with clean air. Her nostrils then emitted twin streams that were less dense than the first exhale. This continued for three cycles of breathing. Then when there was no more to exhale, she would take another puff. "Don, is everything o.k.? You've gotten pretty quiet over there." "Oh, uh, yeah, everything is fine, Gayle. I'm just trying to figure out how to fit this new trap in here." Damn it, Don, at least act like you're busy. After she finished her cigarette, I made faster progress. The old trap came out, and the new one fit with no problem. I stood up and proclaimed, "Good as new. You might want to have a disposal installed in here to prevent this from happening again." "That's just great, Don. Why don't I get you that beer now?" "That would be great, Gayle." Man, she has a beautiful smile! I started putting my tools back into the box, then washed my hands at the sink. She lit a fresh Salem, then opened the refrigerator and brought me a cold can of beer. "Well, I'd like to see your handiwork", she said as she knelt down to look at the cabinet. I was still washing my hands at the sink. She looked into the cabinet, then a puzzled look came across her face. She turned around to look at the table, than up at me. She then stood up and closed the cabinet as I was drying my hands. She was standing close to me, arms folded, with her cigarette held almost against her head. The smell of her cologne combined with the smoke were electrifying enough, without her standing so close to me in her nightgown. She grinned at me, then handed me the mirror. "Did you enjoy the view?", she asked coquettishly. Oh my God! I had left the mirror in the cabinet! I was so humiliated, I was sure that I could slither under the door now. She suddenly had a look of pained concern on her face. "Oh, no, Don, don't feel bad. I think it's very sweet that you like the way I look. She reached her hand, the one with the lit Salem in it, to the side of my head and brushed my cheek. "It's very flattering." As the sidestream smoke wafted across my face, she pulled back her hand and waved the smoke away from my face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get smoke in your face." My mouth felt dry. "No, Gayle, that's o.k., I don't mind your smoking. In fact, I think it's kind of.....sexy." At that, she stared at me with an expression that indicated a dawning awareness. She continued staring as she moved the Salem to her lips. She ever-so-sensuously moved it into her mouth and pulled on it. I was suddenly tumescent. She then opened her mouth to reveal an opaque cloud that quickly disappeared down her throat. She turned the filter around, moving it to within an inch of my mouth. "Wanna smoke?" I nodded, and her soft, warm fingers pressed her Salem between my lips. It had been three years since I had last smoked, and I had never smoked a menthol before. The hormonal surge, the nicotine rush, and the coolness of the menthol combined to produce a light-headedness that I had never known. With a trembling hand, she then put the filter back to her mouth with more urgency this time. She pulled so hard that her cheeks seemed to collapse as the smoke from her last drag billowed from her nostrils. Only when she could draw no more did her erect nipples lunge forward against the nightgown to pull in the precious nicotine-laden vapor. She then stepped forward to me, her mouth still open. She placed her tongue directly into my mouth, and the soft, smoky taste of her breath made me rock-hard. She forced her lungs' contents into mine. I reciprocated, and our mouths released. Both of us were now panting, our heartbeats racing. The smoke pulsed from her mouth and nose as her next words came in a half-whisper, half-moan. "Wanna fuck?" We almost managed to make it to her bedroom, but instead found ourselves sprawled on the carpeted floor of her living room. Her nightgown was off in an instant, but it took a few frantic moments to tear off my shirt, shoes, and pants. I rolled over onto my back and kicked up my legs to remove my briefs, and she was suddenly atop me. Neither of us needed any further foreplay. Her moist aperture enveloped, then clamped deliciously onto my erection. After all the stimulation, I climaxed pretty quickly. I lay on the floor with her still locked atop me, both of us struggling to catch our breath. She was the first to speak, once she could gather enough air. "Why don't we find a more comfortable spot?" I wasn't inclined to argue. She unlocked herself from my still-stiff cock, stood, grasped my hand, smiled sweetly at me, and led me to her bed, where we quickly found each other to have a voracious appetite for more. After about four torrid hours, we found ourselves spent. We lay there smiling at each other. I could more calmly examine her beautiful body. I guess twenty-nine isn't so old, after all. She had a beautiful light tan, gorgeous green eyes, and only a little baby fat, which was mostly concentrated in her firm breasts. She kissed me sweetly, then got up for a moment to head back to the kitchen. As she padded through the doorway without a stitch on, she turned her head around, and made a pretense of being bashful that her bare white ass was being viewed. She came back wearing her cotton bathrobe and carrying her pack of Salems. She got into bed and pulled out two cigarettes. I lit hers, then mine, and for several minutes we smoked wordlessly as we stared, smiled, and laughed. "Don, I have to tell you, that I didn't plan this to happen. Not at first, anyhow. I feel sort of guilty now. I mean, I've known you since you were in second grade. This feels sort of like robbing the cradle. I can remember you as a little boy, staring at me while I smoked. Like you, I was always fascinated by smoking when I was young. I remembered that about you when you came in, and for some reason I just decided to put on a show for you." She took a drag, held it, then released a long wisp toward the ceiling. "I guess I feel a little more sexy when I smoke." "But now...." She grasped for words. "You're going away to college, and I have a job and a life here. This can't happen again." I didn't know what to say. "But Gayle..." She touched a finger to my lips. Her eyes started to mist over. "No, Don, we can't meet like this again. Even though this was something we both wanted at the moment, I was the one who should have been more mature. It's my fault that this happened." "Your fault...? Gayle, please don't make it sound so awful...if you didn't notice, this was a dream come true for me. I don't..." She cut me off as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Well, we can't undo it; soon you're going to be a college football star, and then a college graduate. By the time you're done with that, you'll have yourself a twenty-one year-old girl who worships you, and you won't have any need for a thirty-four year-old woman." I wanted to protest. But she then placed a finger against my lips again. "Please don't say anything else. This is something we'll always remember fondly, and it's something we need to keep as a good memory." I was sort of overwhelmed with emotion. She took another drag of her Salem, locked her lips onto mine, and filled my lungs with the smoke that was once part of her. Her robe came off again and we made love one last time. Once we caught our breath, she kissed me lightly on the lips. "Those fish aren't going to wait all week for you to catch them. Have a safe trip." I headed into the living room and gathered the clothes that I had so hastily abandoned. As I picked up my toolbox, Gayle entered the kitchen, now dressed in her robe. "No more smoking for you, now. You'll need your wind while you're running with the ball." Her expression forbade me to say anything else. We kissed passionately; the taste of her warm, feminine, smoky mouth was now burned into my memory. Then I turned toward my car without another word. That was nearly twenty years ago, and I still think about her all the time. But I do smoke every now and then...a Salem 100...just as a reminder. |
| |
Index by date |
Index by author |
Index by subject Smoking From All Sides ( Glamor - Pics | Female Celebrity Smoking List ) [ Printer friendly version ] Contact webmaster | |
Processing took 0.00076 seconds
|