Charlie's Smoke-Filled Odyssey, Part 1

Charlie's Smoke-Filled Odyssey (part 1)

On the occasion of his 35th birthday, Charlie X planned a trip. He'd been
living fairly well for several years, lucky with money and lucky in life, but
circumstances prevented him from really pursuing his one sexual fantasy. You
see, Charlie was a Californian, born and bred, and California was becoming,
by fast degrees, an anti-smoker's paradise.  But Charlie was a smoker. And
more than that: Charlie was a smoking fetishist.

His parents had been smokers throughout his childhood.  And as was not
uncommon in the 1960s, Charlie's mother had smoked while pregnant with him.
During his early years, his mother and the other adult women in his life had
smoked heavily, and they'd all smoked long, white cigarettes. He didn't
really come to grips with his fetish until much later, but he was always
aware of it, from his very first hard-on in the fifth grade -- when a tough,
Marlboro-smelling girl had sat beside him on the school bus -- through
college, when he began to realize that only women who smoked could really
arouse him to his full potential.

Charlie had been single for several years, and it was getting harder and
harder to meet attractive smokers in San Francisco. He'd considered moving to
Europe, where smoking is still widely accepted as something girls do
regularly from the age of 12 onward, but he was loathe to leave his home
country for good. Still, he'd travelled through Europe several times, and the
wonderful array of confident, beautiful, dedicated young smokers he'd
encountered continued to fuel his many and varied masurbatory fantasies.

Charlie planned a road trip across America. He'd read many times that smoking
was again on the rise among teenage American girls, so he was eager to leave
California and get a good glimpse of the next generation.

Though not an effeminate man, Charlie would, when alone, switch from his
regular, everyday brand to Benson & Hedges Full-Flavor Menthol 100's, which
he considered the sexiest of cigarettes. Like any seasoned fetishist, he
could identify just about any brand at 20 yards, and when he saw a woman lift
a B&H to her hungry lips, he never failed to respond with arousal.

On the first day of his trip, Charlie must have smoked 20 B&H Menthols, as
well as a few of his regular brand. He determined that he'd try to meet or
exceed this level of intake for the duration, in hopes that a sort of aura
might build around him, attracting women who shared his particular passion.
Driving through California's central valley, he was disappointed to see very
few smokers among his fellow drivers, but he knew that things would
definitely pick up when he hit Las Vegas, where smoking is not merely legal,
but almost mandatory.

Arriving around midnight, he checked into a room, showered, and made a
bee-line for the blackjack tables, where one could select one's gambling
partners and be assured of at least one cigarette's worth of comraderie. Sure
enough, the casino was packed with lady smokers. Many elderly women, some
with oxygen masks, which they removed only to inhale; some hard-core
danglers; some young white-trashy women, getting lights off their mothers and
grandmothers at adjoining slot machines; even a very visibly pregnant woman
of around 25, who smoked with such vigor that Charlie smiled to himself,
thinking "Oh well, she's smoking for two, now."

He chose a $5-minimum table, occupied by two women and overseen by a third, a
tall, black-haired dealer of about 30. Of the two players beside him, one was
quite young, perhaps 23 or 24, a ski-bunny sorority-type with a nearly empty
pack of Marlboro Lights on the table in front of her. The other woman was
older, maybe 45, a very elegantly dressed redhead who chained Virginia Slims
Menthol Lights out of a black leather cigarette pouch. After a few hands, the
young blond reached for a Marlboro Light, which Charlie offered to light. She
accepted, her soft, girlish cheeks hollowing hard to sustain a deep, 6-second
drag.  Impressed, Charlie introduced himself, and learned that her name was
Lucy. Meanwhile, the older woman to his right chained into yet another VS,
smoke pouring in twin streams from her upturned nostrils.

Charlie was having a lucky streak, but Lucy was losing nearly every hand, so
he offered to buy her a drink at the bar in the Keno Lounge, where they could
chat and smoke without losing too much money. Lucy agreed, grateful for the
break. She collected her things, took a final hard drag on her cigarette,
made a move to stub it out, then reconsidered and lit another off the first,
her cheeks again drawing in to enhance the pull of wonderful smoke into her
young lungs. She wore a white turtleneck sweater that showed her pert but
ample breasts to maximum effect. As they walked and Lucy took another
much-needed drag, Charlie thought he saw her nipples growing slightly more
erect at the inhale. Between his legs, a similar erection made itself felt.

Lucy had a very sophisticated, just-so hold, very feminine, especially while
she walked. They sat at the bar and introduced themselves more fully. She was
a senior at such-and-such college, a pre-med student.  Generally, Charlie
would seek to avoid med students, who tended to be pushy in their
healthfulness. But Lucy was clearly different, and he was happy for such an
opportunity to inquire as to the extent of her habit. "So, do your peers give
you a lot of shit for being a smoker?" This prompted her to feel absently for
her pack. She shook out the last Marlboro Light and leaned forward slightly,
as a hint. "I don't care -- I'm smoking for life," she boldly asserted as
Charlie lit her up. "Thank God this is the last of these things, though," she
murmured, the white tube bobbing between her lips. She pulled hard and
executed a brilliant snap inhale on removal. "I got these out of a vending
machine a while ago. I want my menthols!"

Charlie's dick stood at full attention. "Oh yeah?," he asked, lighting a
Camel Filter, "What do you usually smoke?" She treated him to a nice french
inhale.  "Benson & Hedges, just like my mom." Charlie was ready, pulling a
pack from his jacket pocket: "Hmm, well you can have these -- they're my
roommate's. She asked me to carry them for her last night, but she's back in
San Francisco, so I'm sure she's already started another pack." Lucy's face
lit up like a kid's at Christmas. "Thank God," she repeated. The pack was
almost full, so Charlie started making plans to hang with her as long as
possible. Lucy crushed the half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray, grabbed
Charlie's lighter and brought her B&H to life.

Charlie couldn't believe how much her style changed, how clearly her
addiction shone through. She dragged like every one would be her last, french
inhaled every hit, gasped and sighed with erotic satisfaction with every
exhale, then chained into a second cigarette when the first still had a good
drag or two left.  "Tell me, Charlie, are you staying in this hotel?," she
asked, smoke trailing her every word. "I'm up on the Strip, but it's so far
away, and my girlfriends have abandoned me. I could really use a nap before I
head back." Charlie wanted to pinch himself, but he rolled with it. "Yeah,
I'm up on the 5th floor, and I've got two beds, though I'm here alone. Feel
free to crash awhile. I could use a little shut-eye too, after ten hours on
the road."

Waiting for the elevator, Lucy pulled out another B&H for Charlie to light.
It occurred to him that she'd somehow read his mind and was playing diretly
to his fetish. Either that, or she had the fetish herself. Or both. She was
outpacing him by about three to one, but he didn't mind a bit. "So, Lucy, do
you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah," (heavy drag) "two sisters, both younger." He wanted to ask whether
they were champion smokers, too, but didn't dare.

At the 5th floor, they got off and found Charlie's room. His bags were still
packed, so he started poking around for his toothbrush and the like. "Sorry I
don't have a spare," he said, "but I guess you can use mine."

"That's very intimate of you," she purred, stubbing out her B&H Menthol, "but
I'm okay. I like to have a little Menthol breath when I wake up." At this
Chalie's cock again rose to full stature. He saw her eyes graze his tight
crotch, but she made no mention of it. "Do you plan to sleep all night, or
just a few hours?"

"Either way," he replied, sitting on one bed to conceal his bulge a bit. "How
'bout you?"

"Either way," she echoed, smiling. She kicked off her pumps and started
wriggling out of her tight black slacks. "Funny, I feel pretty comfortable
with you, for someone I just met. Mind if I sleep nude? That's what I'm used
to."

"How could I?," Charlie stammered. Lucy giggled, then yanked her sweater over
her head. "Turn around."

Charlie did as he was told. A moment later, she was in bed. "Okay, I'm ready.
Could you hand me my smokes?"

Charlie brought her the pack, his lighter, and an ashtray, then stripped to
his shorts and hopped into the other bed, grabbing his Camels and another
ashtray. "Want the light off?"

"Yes please. The bathroom light is fine. That way we can see if we need to."
Another B&H was already smoldering between her teasing lips. "I just love
smoking in bed, don't you? Especially naked. 'The first of the day and the
last of the day,' my mom always says. Those are the best."

Charlie lit a Camel with a book of hotel matches. He rolled over on one side
so he could see her busty silhouette more clearly under the blankets. She
kept the B&H between her lips, dragging methodically. Her hands were tucked
suspiciously under the covers.

Finally she spoke. "Charlie, can I admit something to you?" She took one hand
from beneath the blanket, ashed her cigarette, then replaced it between her
soft lips. Charlie had never been more aroused. "Sure, what is it?"

"I think you're real cute."

Charlie almost came, but held on for more. "Thanks, Lucy. The same goes for
you, needless to say."

Lucy removed her hand once again, extinguished her cigarette, grabbed
another, and lit it. "Can I tell you something else?" She dragged very
heavily, smoke cascading out of her nostrils. "I'm super, super horny right
now."

At this, Charlie threw back his blanket to reveal the biggest hard-on of his
life. "The same goes for me."

Lucy laughed. "Could you step over here for a second and give me a hand?"

Charlie snuffed out his Camel and stepped over to Lucy's bed, his throbbing
member preceding him. Lucy stared at his groin. "Ooooh, Mister Big!"

Charlie sat on the edge of Lucy's bed. "Charlie," she cooed, "I really like
to use both hands when I play with myself. Could you deal with my ashes for
me?" Smoke drifted from between her lips as she spoke.  Charlie reached over
and took the burning cigarette from between her lips, knocked the long ash
into the ashtray, then returned the B&H to its proper resting place.
"Mmmmmmmm, you're sweet," she sighed. "You can play with yourself too,
sweetie. I'd like that."

He reached down and started stroking himself. Every once in awhile he'd take
Lucy's cigarette from her whispering lips to knock the ash. When one
cigarette burned down, she'd ask him to light another. With Charlie's help,
she enjoyed several orgasms, especially after raising the stakes to two
simultanous Menthol 100s.

Soon Charlie was giving her smoky kisses while she moaned soft profanities:
"Oh, daddy, baby needs smoke... light me, daddy... light me again, now! i
need it! mmmm, baby loves your smoke... fill me with your smoke, pretty
please... come with me, Charlie, come with me, baby, come with me!"

Charlie finally shot his wad while Lucy screamed with pleasure. Both lay
panting for a few minutes, then Charlie grabbed the last two B&H Menthols
from the pack at lit them together. He shared his exhale with Lucy, then
placed one of cigarettes between her lips.  "That was my fantasy, Lucy.
Where on earth did you come from?"

"It's one of mine, too," she smiled. "I assume you've got a carton of
these stashed somewhere?" Her cigarette bounced happily as she hiked up onto
her elbow, letting the blanket fall to reveal her young breasts.

"Yes, I do."

"Then make some coffee," she laughed.

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