(by Mark, 08 November 2001)

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by Mark

Sherri was my mom's best friend and lived 2 doors down from us. Even though
she was in her early fifties, she was the sexiest woman I knew. She was 5' 3"
(just an inch taller then me at that time) and weighed about 110 lbs. She had
plump, perky breasts and always wore a top or dress that showed them off
without being slutty. Her hair was very short and very black (I think she
dyed it.) Sherri was divorced and basically lived alone. She had one son away
at college and another in the Marines. She was a lawyer and always dressed in
a professional, classy manner. She always wore pantyhose, even when she wore
her shorts on her day off. She had a friendly personality and flirted with
everyone, even me. Don't take that wrong. She never had come on to me, just
her friend's kid. It was just her friendly nature. She probably thought of me
as a nephew and at Christmas, or my birthday, she always overdid it with my
gifts. I'd known her since I was 6, and even then she always talked to me as
an equal, and not like a little kid. I probably started having a crush on her
then, but boy, now at 13, I really had the hots for her.

By the way, Sherri is the reason I have a smoking fetish. Of course then, at
13, I didn't know I had a fetish, but I sure did like to watch her smoke. My
mom smoked B & H Menthols and they just seemed so blah compared to the sexy
cigarettes Sherri smoked. Sherri actually smoked 2 brands, one menthol and
the other regular. The regulars were VS 120s(although every once in a while
she'd have the full flavored Virginia Slim 100s) and the menthols were More
120s. I loved watching her smoke the Slims, but by far the More's were my
favorite. The best time to watch her smoke was when she was drinking. My mom
never drank, but most Friday nights Sherri would show up at the back porch
with a full bottle of wine and would talk and play cards with my Mom until
she finished the bottle. She never really got drunk, just tipsy. She'd also
bring 2 pack of cigarettes (although when she'd been drinking she called them
"Ciggies" or "Ciggie-poos") and usually finish those off too. She'd get real
flirty then, and even a little bawdy in conversation. Most of the time I'd
watch TV in the next room, (where I could also watch Sherri), but sometimes I
got to play cards with them.

One time we were playing cards. It was last summer, just after my 12th
birthday. Sherri's wine bottle was  full and she had just lit a More. It was
her turn to shuffle, and she set the More in the ashtray between us. She
shuffled the cards and dealt them out. Forgetting about her freshly lit More
in the ashtray she picked up her pack of VS 120s, opened it up and shook out
her last one. As she was lighting it up my mom noticed the smoldering More in
the ashtray.

"Need some more wine there Sherri?" my mom asked in a sarcastic, but silly

I knew exactly what Mom was joking about, because I of course kept careful
track of every "ciggie" Sherri smoked.

Sherri, of course, was confused. With the freshly lit Slim clenched in her
teeth she looked at her full wineglass and then quizzically at my mother for
an explanation.

With a raised eyebrow, my mom gestured with her head toward the ashtray with
the still-quite-long More Menthol in it.

Without missing a beat, and with the slim still in her teeth, she looked at
Mom and said, "That's Marks ciggie."

For a second I was terrified. Was this some set-up? Had they known I'd
secretly been experimenting with cigarettes? Was this my mom's way of busting

But then they just laughed. Both of them, like it was the funniest thing they
ever heard. Good little Mark with a cigarette. How funny was that. I started
laughing too. It was contagious, I guess. Sherri had taken the Slim out of
her mouth, but must have had a drag first because she was exhaling as she

Mom and I, neither of which had had  of a bottle of Merlot, stopped laughing
first. But Sherri was still coming out of it as the phone rang in the next

"That'll be Larry," mom said as she pushed her chair back and walked down the
hall to the kitchen.

"Sorry," she hollered back, "This might take a while."

"Take your time," Sherri shouted back, "We've got our ciggies- and our wine."

This made her laugh again, although not as much as before. She took a puff
from her Slim and picked up the glass of wine with the hand that holding the
cigarette. She drained half the glass, then looked at me and smiled.

"Do you want a little sip?" she asked.

She had never offered me wine before, and I'd never been really interested in
trying it. But she looked so sexy, and was just acting so- I don't know-

"Sure," I smiled back

She handed me the glass. As I was taking my ample sip she winked at me and
said, "Just don't tell your Mom."

I handed the glass back toward her. She was taking another drag and motioned
with her head to go on and take another sip. 

It didn't taste that great but I was really getting excited to be sitting
there having wine with Sherri.

I must have been giving her an "are you sure" look, because she said through
her exhale, "You might as well finish it up."

I gave her a big smile and she smiled right back as I emptied the glass.

As I set the glass down Sherri reached for the bottle and refilled it.

I jumped a little then, at the sound of my mom's voice from the kitchen.

"Sherri Hon," she hollered, "bring me a cigarette please."

"Here," Sherri said to me as she picked up the More from the ashtray, "Take
her yours.

We both gave each other mischievous little smiles, for two reasons. First,
she called it my cigarette. Second, we both knew Mom hated More's.

She handed the More to me and I held it awkwardly between the inner tips of
my thumb and index finger. As I carried it down the hall I noticed it was
just barely smoking but the ash was still only  of an inch long keeping the
length of the More still 120mm, from the bottom of the filter to the tip of
the ash.

My mom looked a little shocked at the sight of me holding a cigarette, but
smiled when she saw it was the More.

"Tell Sherri," Mom said, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone,
"that I asked for a cigarette, not a shitty cigarette."

As I walked back down the hall I switched the cigarette to a more natural
position (for a smoker anyway) between my middle and index finger. I don't
think Sherri noticed. I sat down and rested my hand with the More in it on
the table.

"What'd she say?" she asked, while puffing on her almost-finished Slim.

I was a little nervous about cussing, but kind of excited about that too,
like the wine.

"She said she didn't want a shitty cigarette."

"She said that about our Mores?" she asked in a mock-insulted tone, "She just
doesn't have good taste like you and me, does she?"

"No she doesn't." I said, resting the elbow of the arm the More was in on the

Sherri gave me a great big smile and put out her cigarette. She grabbed my
mom's Benson & Hedges and lighter with one hand and brought her other hand
softly to my cheek as she stood up. "You're such a Sweetie-"

She let her hand linger on my cheek, brushing it slowly away as she walked
toward the hall, "and you look so natural with that More."

I noticed two things as she disappeared down the hall towards my mother: 1) I
had quite an erection, and 2) the More in my hand seemed to go out from lack
of attention.

Those of you familiar with Mores know all about this. It was one of the
reasons my mom hated them.

You always have to keep lighting the damn things- she'd tease Sherri.

It was also one of the reason More smokers loved them. They didn't burn up in
the ashtray, so you didn't waste them. Well, to me, Sherri had given me this
cigarette, (even if it was kind of a joke) and I didn't want it to go to

I looked back to make sure the coast was clear. When I saw that it was, I
reached for Sherri's lighter and brought it to life. I brought the flame to
the end of the still-cylindrical ash and puffed lightly until I saw a stream
of smoke curling up from the end. I quickly replaced the lighter and tried to
put my arm back to where it was when Sherri left.

When Sherri came back she stopped short at the sight of my cigarette. Did she
notice it had gone out prior to her taking the B&H's to Mom? She must have,
by the questioning look on her face. "Busted" I thought.

But her smile was back, and all she said as she sat down was, "I think she's
gonna be a while. Wanna play a little Rummy while we wait."

"Sure," I said, as she took a huge swallow from her wineglass. I really
didn't like the wine, but I was hoping she'd offer me another sip.

"You deal," she said, taking a smaller sip, then gathering up the cards she'd
dealt when all three of us were at the table, "but you better flick your ash
while I shuffle"

I gave a meek grin as I flicked the More (quite expertly) in the ashtray
between us.

As she was getting ready to shuffle she reached for her pack of Virginia Slim
120's . She shook the pack and realized it was empty. "Mark-"

"Damn," I thought, "she's gonna ask for MY More."

"-I'm all out of my Ciggie-poos. Could I bum one of your More's?"

"Sure," I said, playing along, "Here you go.

I grabbed her pack of Mores (or were they mine) and shook one out. She
grabbed it, held it in her mouth and leaned in towards me, letting her knee
brush up against my thigh.

It took me a second to get what she was doing, but I got on quick and grabbed
the lighter and gave her a light. She steadied her hand on mine, (the one
holding the lighter to her More) took a deep drag, tilted her had back and
gave the sexiest exhale I'd ever seen.

"Thank you Sweetie," she purred, giving me a wink in the process.

When she was done shuffling the cards, all the while with that sexy brown
cigarette clenched in her teeth, she handed me the deck.

She took a nice-sized puff, removed the More from her teeth, and took an
equally nice-sized sip of her wine. "Deal, Sweetie."

I grabbed the deck, and she somehow sensed my dilemma. I certainly wasn't an
expert enough smoker to be able to deal out a hand while holding a cigarette.
She also must have known I didn't want to surrender my More to the ashtray
for fear I might not feel comfortable picking it up again on my own.

She looked like she was puzzling this over in her mind, then a smile came
quickly to her beautiful face. She listened down the hall, and when she heard
my mother still in deep conversation, she half-whispered, "Do this."

She brought her More up to her mouth and clenched it in her teeth again.

"Always hold it in your teeth, Sweetie. It looks so tacky to let such a
classy ciggie dangle from your lips."

I followed her lead and placed the More in the center of my mouth, clenched
in my teeth just like Sherri. I must have been giving her an Is this right?
look, because she beamed at me and said, "Oh, that's perfect, Sweetie."

At this point, the erection I had never lost from the time she brushed my
cheek seemed to grow harder.

I dealt the cards out, a little nervously, but kept that More in my teeth the
whole time. When I finished dealing I removed the More from my mouth and
flicked the ash. The whole time Sherri just kept smiling at me. 

I never took a puff that night in front of Sherri. I continued flicking the
ashes as the More burnt down during our game. Sherri's More that I had lit
for her was long gone by the time I reluctantly stubbed mine out. I thought
maybe she'd offer me another one during our second game, or maybe light two.
When she did light another, while I was dealing out our third game, she
hadn't even asked me if she could bum one of My Mores. I guess the little
game we were playing was over. I still had that erection though. It didn't
leave until after my mother returned from her one-hour phone call. By that
time it was late, and Sherri's wine was gone. My mom apologized for being so
long on the phone as Sherri was standing up and gathering her things.

"That's okay. Mark and I had fun," Sherri said sincerely to my mom. Then she
smiled at me, "Didn't we Sweetie?"

"You bet," I said, feeling sure enough that my erection was gone to stand up.

My mom walked Sherri down the hall to the kitchen to see her out. I was going
to follow them, but noticed Sherri had left her More Menthols on the table. I
could hear them at the back door, and I picked up the pack. There were about
5 cigarettes left in the pack, and I started to take them to Sherri. Prior to
that, the only cigarettes I had smoked were the B&H's I'd stolen here and
there from Mom. I decided to keep the Mores so I could think of Sherri while
I smoked them. I took them to my room and hid them in a drawer.

I made those More's last 2 weeks, and as far as I knew, Sherri never missed
them. If she did she never said anything to me. As a matter of fact she never
made mention of what to me was a very wonderful night. The next time we
played cards together I kept waiting for a similar situation to emerge, but
it never did. I still loved watching her smoke, and she still treated me

I guess one thing did come out of that night (besides a wonderful scene I
play over in my head to this day.) From that night on, Sherri never called me
anything other than Sweetie. 

I eventually did smoke with Sherri, (behind my mother's back) but that's
another story for another time. One day I will share it with you.

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