Teaching the English Teacher, Part 1

TEACHING THE ENGLISH TEACHER

Part 1
The Paper

I had taken an English lit class from Mrs. Layman my sophomore year and while
the subject itself wasn't all that exciting, Mrs. Layman certainly was.
Although I never learned her exact age, she had told the class she had a son
who was about to enlist in the Navy at the tender age of 17. We guessed that
she had probably married young and was somewhere around 37 or so.

As a 16 year-old student I was less interested in her age or her son than I
was in her.  Looking back, I have to say she was my second real crush as far
as teachers went.  I had previously been infatuated with Mrs. Parchman, my
eight grade English teacher, who had some important characteristics in common
with Mrs. Layman, or Nancy, as I would later come to know her.  Both ladies
were thin, attractive, in their mid-thirties (I assume), had long dirty-blonde
hair that reached their shoulders and beautiful smiles that set off their
already attractive faces.  And equally important to me was the fact that both
of them wore a style of clothing that really appealed to me-soft sweaters and
skirts.

Another similarity which has nothing to do with my attraction to either of
them but which does relate to my eventual tryst with Mrs. Layman, was the fact
that both of them were members of the Mormon Church.  So was I.  Mrs. Parchman
was an active member who really believed in the whole thing.  Mrs. Layman,
however, was not only an inactive member, but had some real issues with "the
Church" (as we called it) that left her and her husband rather disgruntled
with the entire mess.

My senior year found me back in Mrs. Layman's creative writing class for one
reason and one reason alone. I wanted to be able to look at her every day and
fantasize that I could turn her into a smoker and that we could then make love
with each other.  She was such an incredibly sexy woman already. Long, shapely
legs graced with high heels that accentuated them. Gorgeous blondish hair and
a smile to die for.  That, coupled with her wearing of my favorite style of
clothes, made her well, simply irresistible. I found it impossible to take my
eyes off of her as she moved gracefully through the room prodding a group of
bored students to try and come up with something creative to put on paper.

Our "relationship" began with an assignment to write about something
important to us in our personal lives.  I knew immediately that I was going to
write a paper about "the Church" since I wouldn't have to do any research
and was sure it would be a hit with her.  I had heard that she was a
"member" and although she was inactive, it just might give me an inroad to
an easy "A".  I had no real interest in "the Church" by this point as I
had just broken up with my high school sweetheart of two years, Caitlen
Morris, who was a student at Brigham Young University.  I was also dating one
of the prettiest girls in school, one Kathy Tayler, who had helped me forget
all about the fact that Caitlen had met someone else at BYU.  Kathy was also
fast becoming my `dream girl' as she was the first girlfriend I had had who
had agreed to fulfill my deepest fantasy of becoming a smoker.  No, she
didn't just one day say, "Oh, sure, you want me to become a smoker to
fulfill some fetish you have? No problem. I've always wanted to smoke." It
took a bit of finesse applied at a time in which she was vulnerable in her
life having just broken up with her previous boyfriend, Rick Pierce, and
questioning her own strongly held religious beliefs. She was READY to try new
things.  To make a long story short, I shared my love of women who smoke with
Kathy and she agreed to try it.  From our first date at the senior prom until
Thanksgiving, she had gone from a confirmed non-smoker to a half-a-pack a day
smoker. By the end of our senior year, she was a confirmed smoker with a
pack-a-day commitment to her newfound love affair with cigarettes.

The assignment to write this paper came in the spring, some three months
before graduation.  While by no means an accomplished or talented writer, I
have always been able to knock out a story of "B" quality just by doing
what's often called "a stream of consciousness."  Just start writing and
put on paper whatever comes to mind in the order it comes. 

I wrote as eloquently as I could about how "the truth" had been taken from
the earth some 200 years after the birth of Christ and how it was restored to
a humble young boy, a prophet of God, named Joseph Smith, in 1823.  He had
seen angels descending from heaven and had learned that all the churches on
earth had gone astray and that he would be God's chosen instrument in
restoring (not simply reforming) the "only true Church on the face of the
whole earth with which I, the Lord, am well pleased- He had been shown some
long-buried plates of gold as well, which he would later translate into the
"Book of Mormon."

I delved into celestial marriage (the concept of marriage for eternity not
just `til death do us part'and as earlier practiced, polygamy) and how the
Church ensured only the most "honorable and noble" of men were selected by
God to take on the responsibility of having more than one wife.  I stressed
family and love of country and all of the other Donny Osmond-like values
professed by this religion that really teaches that God was once a man like
you and I who lived `worthily' and made it through God School; who now lives
on a planet called Kolob and has sex with his wives creating spiritual
children to come to earths like ours to gain bodies and be tried and tested.

When I received my paper back, it had a large "B" at the top.  No surprise
there. I was happy to be "above average".  But as I read through the three
pages I saw little "Fs" from Mrs. Laymen next to my most important points as
noted above.  When the bell rang she asked if I could stay after for just a
minute.  As my classmates filed out she asked, "Is this your religion or did
you actually research this paper like I told you to do?"  I blushed slightly
as I was concentrating on her gorgeous face, hair, and clothes.  "Uh, this is
my religion. But I've done a lot of reading so it's like I did the research
myself," I lamely answered.  "I should fail you on this assignment but I
don't want to have to deal with the Bishop coming her to chide me for not
only leaving the Church but for being vindictive by failing you for not doing
this assignment properly."  "Mrs. Layman," I said, "I heard you were LDS
but no longer attend.  Is that true?"  "Yes, it is," she replied honestly.
"I just can't accept most of the things the Church teaches and that's why I
put the little `Fs' for `false' next to the things that bothered me most
about your paper. I don't want to destroy your faith, but I simply don't
believe it anymore. And I don't think this is an appropriate topic between
teacher and student so let's just call it a wash, shall we?"

Because of my success in coaching Kathy Tayler to start smoking, I ignored her
offer and boldly proceeded to ask a question that had nothing to do with
creative writing or my paper but took the conversation to a deeper level.
"How do you feel about the Word of Wisdom?" I queried.  The "Word of
Wisdom" is the term Mormons use as their basis for not smoking or drinking
coffee or alcohol. It comes from a third book of what they believe to be
sacred scriptures called "The Doctrine and Covenants", a series of
"revelations" from God to the "prophet" Joseph Smith.  Obviously, I wanted
to know how she felt about smoking, as I had imagined her smoking no less than
a thousand times!

"I'm not sure," she told me. "I mean, I don't believe it came from God,
per se, but from the perspective of good health, it makes a lot of sense.  I
mean, smoking is obviously unhealthy and anything, taken to excess, is
probably a bad idea.  Now, I'll be the first to admit that I used to smoke
and really did enjoy it but I quit when we joined `the Church'.
Why do you ask?"  "Well," I began.  "I was just wondering whether you had
actually ever `broken the Word of Wisdom' by smoking or drinking or if you
were just taking the current party line that smoking and drinking are bad."

At that moment, something seemed to change in our conversation. She seemed to
relax and began talking to me as a friend rather than a student, something I
couldn't fully comprehend at 18.  How could I know that teachers are just
people who chose a profession working with kids?  In all other respects,
they're just like the rest of us with their own lives, problems, thoughts and
dreams.  

"After joining `the Church' I stopped smoking. It almost killed me and I
still think about it every day but I haven't smoked in nearly ten years.  I
do drink a little when we have friends over but that's about it.  So what
about you?" she asked smiling in that way that stirred me deep inside.  "Oh,
I don't smoke at all and have only tried alcohol a couple of times," I told
her honestly.  I thought for a moment about what to say next and decided to
just say it.  "But I will tell you that I find women who smoke to be VERY
attractive."  I stared directly and deeply into her eyes and it was now she
who blushed deeply.  "You DO, do you?" she said nervously as she turned her
head to break the stare between us.  "I should have been so lucky to find
such a handsome man when I was your age who understood how I felt.  How
interesting and how lucky for some young girl who just happens to smoke.  I
think I'm beginning to understand why I see Kathy in the lavatory this
year," she teased.  "MY husband never really liked it when I smoked.  In
fact, I think that's one reason he led us into Mormonism was to get me to
quit. But then I'm babbling and as I said earlier, this conversation has
gotten far too personal for a teacher and her student.  You need to get to
your next class."  Thinking she had regained control the color had drained
from her face and she addressed me with that `I'm in charge' sort of tone.
"You're right. I should be going," I said as I stepped toward the door. But
I decided I had nothing to lose and everything to gain as I turned and said,
"Mrs. Layman, I really enjoyed talking with you and I appreciate your
honesty.  I'd like to say one more thing, though.  You're a very attractive
woman and I can only imagine how sexy and even more attractive you'd look
smoking.  I would never have asked you to quit."  I flashed my best smile and
she blushed again--this time nearly purple.  It was obvious that I had touched
a nerve and made her VERY uncomfortable.  She lowered her head and didn't say
a word as I walked out to my next class.

By The Water Fountain

For the next month, Mrs. Layman tried to regain control by simply ignoring me.
No matter how many times I passed her in the hall and said `hello' or did
the same at the start of a class, she would only answer very formally.
"Hello" or "I'm fine, and you?" were about all she would say.  Until one
Monday morning after the last basketball game of the season.

"Hi," she said to me as I stopped for a drink of water at a fountain in the
hall. "Good morning, Mrs. Layman," I said as I sipped from the fountain.
"I saw you at the pep assembly before the game on Friday," she told me with
a smile that was as bright as any I'd ever seen.  "I saw you, too," I
replied looking directly into her eyes.  "You looked very nice in your suit
before the game," she said quietly but sincerely.  "Kathy is a very lucky
girl."  She was now fully recovered from whatever lack of self-confidence or
feeling of having been caught off guard by a student she had experienced with
me before. And now she was CLEARLY flirting with me.

Giving no quarter I promptly came back with, "Thank you, Mrs. Layman.
You're a most excellent judge of character.  And I would like to add that you
also looked exceptionally nice."  She smiled and swung her long dirty-blonde
hair to one side.  "Me? That's rich. An old woman in a frumpy sweater. But
you! Well, what do I say but `wow'?"  I moved closer toward her and said
quietly, "Rest assured that I, too, noticed you. You looked stunningly
beautiful and in my opinion there's nothing you could wear that would look
better on you."  I weighed my risks and added, "Well, unless, of course, you
were to add a cigarette to your ensemble. That would indeed, be my ultimate
fantasy.  In fact, I've thought of nothing else since Friday night.  I could
tell you how my fantasy ended, but that then that would be, well,
inappropriate for a mere `student' like me."

Students continued to stream by us and I watched as she again blushed
furiously.  She moved very close to me and nearly whispered, "Thank you.
That's something I never hear at home.  You know how to make an old woman
feel young again.  If there was just some way to make your chronological age
match your intellectual age," she sighed wistfully.   "You're an
intelligent, very attractive young man with a remarkable ability to
communicate and I enjoy talking with you.  I, uh, just wanted to thank you for
that."  She averted her eyes from my direct gaze but I moved toward her and
reached out with my hand to touch her cheek and turn her head toward me.
Although at least a few students must have seen this, no one ever came to me
and asked what in the hell I was doing. 

I held her small chin in my hand for the briefest of moments. Not long enough
to draw undue attention but long enough to send a very clear signal and
establish a new level in our budding relationship. I looked directly and
deeply into her beautiful eyes and said with conviction, "You are SO
beautiful. Don't ever let anyone, especially you, tell yourself otherwise,"
I offered.  I moved closer and added, "Mrs. Layman, I think it's becoming
obvious that we have a greater interest in one another than as just teacher
and student.  I would very much like the opportunity to explore that interest
and if I'm any judge of character, you would, too."  She didn't answer but
I raised my right hand and let my fingers run up and down the lovely
long-sleeved white turtleneck sweater she'd worn that day.  We had touched or
rather I should say I had now touched her more than once and she hadn't
recoiled or drawn away.  While I managed not to attract too much student
attention, I had definitely attracted the attention of one very lonely
teacher. 

Just as Mrs. Layman had turned to walk down the hall, Kathy Tayler approached
me from behind.  She had just come from the lavatory having smoked her fifth
cigarette of the morning.  She slid directly in front of me and kissed me full
on the lips saying, "Hi! How do I taste?"  I slid my tongue deep into her
mouth and assured her she not only tasted wonderful but that any guy would be
lucky to have a girlfriend as beautiful as her.  "Thanks," she said. "So
what were you and Mrs. Layman talking about?" she said teasingly.  "Oh, my
latest paper or `bomb' in creative writing as she put it.  Why?" I asked
nonchalantly.  "Oh, I don't know.  Just seems you sort of have a thing for
her, I guess."  "A THING?" I asked indignantly. "What do you mean a
THING?"  "I don't know, it just seems that you're always either talking
about her or lately talking with her.  Guess I'll need to increase my smoking
a little more if there's competition. I'm not too worried, though, Mrs.
Layman is a Mormon and doesn't smoke-just like you!" she laughed.

I lied and told her there was nothing to worry about.  "What interest could I
possibly have in a 40-year old woman?" I reassured her.  "It's 37 and
she's very attractive," she corrected. "Besides, I was only kidding and I
know exactly what turns you on," she purred.  I put my arm around her and
savored the sweet scent of smoke mixed with her perfume and shampoo.  My first
convert.  Not bad. Not bad at all-

Guys, I'm telling you that if you ever want your fantasy to become reality,
you have to find women who are in a very vulnerable state.  OR you have to be
so drop-dead gorgeous or rich that she'll do ANYthing for you.  For all
others, they need to be at some sort of transition or crossroads where they
feel either alone or ready to move to some new stage in their lives.  At any
other time, "Fuh-ged a-boud-it".  It ain't happenin'.  Most women have
been indoctrinated by society that smoking is worse than just `bad' and they
would NEVER consider smoking to please some `sick fantasy' of some guy they
barely know.  That's why you have to find a way to connect with them at their
deepest level.  To connect with their deepest fears in such a way as to
convince them you really understand and truly care. You have to go for `low
hanging fruit'.  Girls who used to smoke and need attention or women who are
in a very vulnerable time of their lives and are open to the suggestion that
`if you smoke, I will love you even more.'  In another story, I'll tell you
about my greatest success and failure story, my own wife, and how I coached to
start smoking for me not once, but several different times-




Subtle Changes

There were just two months left until graduation and as each day passed I
noticed little changes in my relationship with Mrs. Layman.  Only two days
after our conversation by the water fountain, I walked into her classroom and
was taken back by the absolutely sensational outfit she was wearing.  As we
filed into the room I purposely walked passed her and whispered, "The vice
principal is going to call you to his office for violating the dress code. You
look fantastic!"  She smiled and pretended to ignore me for the benefit of
the others taking their seats.  She looked past me and smiled at them simply
saying, "Thank you."  As soon as the bell had rung she passed out the
homework she just graded.

"Mrs. Layman," I asked with my hand raised. "Yes?" she responded while
moving toward my desk.  "I don't understand this comment," I said as she
sidled up to me.  "Show me," she said looking down and leaning so close to
me that her long hair spilled all over my back and shoulder. "Here," I said,
pointing to a seven-digit number followed by `Friday after 7'. "Oh, yes,
that," she continued.  She moved even closer and I could feel her soft breast
pressing against my arm.  I had penciled next to it the words `your home
phone'? She took my pencil and drew a little smiley face then said loudly
enough to draw attention as she drew back from me, "I thought you could use
that reference for some additional help with this topic.  Lord knows you need
it."  This was appropriate for while I had been voted `most likely to
succeed' senior year I had also been awarded the dubious honor of `class
clown' every year since starting high school.  Everyone chuckled and no one
had any idea what had just transpired except the `smart-ass' had just been
put in his place --again.

The next day Kathy had stayed home with a cold.  After school I headed for the
gym to change for the baseball game against one of the best teams in the
state. I was scheduled to pitch that day and was doing some warm up sprints
when I noticed a pair of high heels attached to a set of long, shapely legs
framed by a brown leather skirt that could only belong to one person.  I
stopped on a dime and said in my best student voice, "Good afternoon, Mrs.
Layman.  What a pleasant surprise. I didn't realize you were a baseball
fan." "I'm not," she replied smiling. "But I overheard some of the girls
in the lavatory talking about today's starting pitcher.  The word is he's
good-looking and throws very hard so I decided to come see for myself!  Seems
they were right on the first count. Guess I'll find out the rest in a bit,
eh?"  "I'm honored," I said bowing fully from the waist.  "I hope not to
disappoint you."  "Somehow, I don't think that would be possible," she
said. She winked at me and smiled broadly, moving toward the bleachers to take
a seat.  

We won a close one by the score of 2-1. I struck out 12 batters and allowed
only three hits and one unearned run on an error by our normally dependable
shortstop. He managed to redeem himself, however, by hitting a sixth inning
solo home run that broke a 1-1 tie and gave us the victory.  Throughout the
contest I looked repeatedly at Mrs. Layman who looked directly back at me and
cheered for me calling me by name.  No suspicions were raised, as it was fully
appropriate for a teacher to root on the pitcher and her home team. As I
headed for the dugout after each inning I would make it a point to catch her
eye without smiling, leaving it to her to do so.  She did.

I was exiting the locker room after the game and heading toward my old Buick
LeSabre. "Nice game," I heard an angelic voice say.  I turned and saw her
standing there smiling at me with her clasped together below her waist.
"Thanks. I'm glad you came today. Did you enjoy the game?" I asked.  "Not
particularly. I don't much care for baseball, but I did enjoy watching you,"
she said boldly.  I thanked her perfunctorily before she asked, "So, will you
be looking for help with your creative writing assignment this Friday?"  I
could see the hope and excitement of expectation in her eyes and I began to
stir deep within.  "Hmmm.  Well, I guess that depends on a couple of
things," I began.  "Such as?" she coyly asked.  "Two things, actually.
Firstly, when I call the `homework hotline' will there be an invitation for
personal tutoring?"  "That's a given.  We provide one-on-one tutoring
only," she teased. "And the sort of help you need can only be offered in
person."  "Ahh, I see. Makes sense," I added. "And I think I know what the
other thing might be and you won't be disappointed. I promise," she said in
a low, sultry voice.  "Then I'll be sure to call just after seven.  But
being Friday night I'm certain my girlfriend will want to know why I can't
spend the evening with her and I'm SURE your husband will want to know the
same."  "I can't help you with your part of that but my husband will out of
town on business for the next two weeks leaving me plenty of time for, uh,
tutoring, and the like-" she said playfully.

I skipped school on Friday telling Kathy I had caught her cold.  She
apologized for passing it on to me and we agreed to meet Saturday afternoon at
her house.  

Seven o'clock rolled around and my level of anticipation was reaching the
boiling point.  At 7:05 I dialed the number written on my paper.  "Hello?" I
heard. "Hi. Is this the Layman Institute?" I asked playfully. "I can't
talk right now. He's still here. I'm very sorry." "I understand," I said
flatly. "I'll see you Monday."  "I'm so sorry," she said again as she
hung up the phone.  Dumbfounded, I too, hung up the phone and dialed Kathy's
home number explaining I was feeling much better and wanting to see her.  I
drove to her home where she met me with a cigarette in her hand and led me to
her bedroom downstairs where she smoked several cigarettes while we made love
three different times.  While I looked at Kathy, I could only imagine the face
of Nancy Layman.

The Auditorium

On Monday, Mrs. Layman slipped a card in my backpack between first and second
periods while Kathy was in the bathroom having a Virginia Slim Menthol
cigarette. "I'm SO sorry," she whispered as she brushed me, touching my
hand lightly.  I waited until I was home alone to read the card and tore it
open in the privacy of my bedroom after school.  

"Hi. I know I've apologized several times but I can't say `I'm sorry'
enough. I hope you will be able to forgive me and trust me again.  God, I hope
I haven't messed everything up.  I had the most wonderful evening planned for
us and was floored when my husband told me his trip had been postponed.  I had
gone shopping for what I hoped would be just the right outfit (I think I know
what you like based on all the sweet compliments you've given me) and was
trembling with anticipation to wear it for you.  But above that, I was so sure
I'd put together your second `requirement' for seeing me and I'm only all
too eager to demonstrate my commitment by renewing an old `friendship' which
I have missed more than I can explain here.  How I'll deal with my husband's
reaction is a question for the future, but it does not concern me right now.
I miss you terribly and hope you will forgive me. Your Not-So-Secret-Admirer."

My hands trembled with excitement and my heart was pounding harder than it had
the first time a girl had told me she would `do anything' to please me.
That had been just the year before when my first real girlfriend, Caitlen
Morris, had said just that to me while at a drive in movie only hours before
we lost our virginity.  

I needed Kathy again and asked to come over as soon as she could.  She said
she was finishing up a Biology project but would be over within the hour. She
added how she had just lit up a cigarette and how much she was enjoying it
knowing the effect it would have on me when she drove up to my house, smoking
yet another cigarette.  What she didn't know, what she couldn't know, was
that I was already growing bored with a high school girl. Much as I had said
`good riddance' to my relationship with Caitlen who would never have smoked,
I was now ready to move on to a new conquest. This time I would attempt to
seduce and coach an adult woman who was married and just as willing to start
smoking again to please me as Kathy had been.  As predicted, Kathy arrived in
her mom's car wearing her prettiest sweater with a cigarette in her hand.  I
had to admit she looked gorgeous and I was very proud of my accomplishment but
knew my mind would be on Nancy, not Kathy, as we made love several times that
evening.

My relationship with Mrs. Layman seemed to sputter for the next two weeks but
as we signed up for senior trip, she approached me in the auditorium after
everyone else had gone home.  "Hey, we still friends?" she asked hopefully.
"Still?" I kidded. "You know what I mean.  I'm so sorry," she began.  I
stood directly in front of her and at 6'2", looked down on her slender 5'
7" figure. "I don't know how to begin," she continued. "I feel so bad."
It was then that I raised my right index finger to her lips and said, "Shhh.
No more apologies. You have nothing to apologize for."  I lifted her chin and
raised it fully toward me while staring intently into her eyes.  I kissed her
softly and took her hand, leading her outside.  I thought I noticed the
slightest ruffling of the curtain on the main stage but paid little attention.
"I was just starting to enjoy myself inside. Where are you taking me?" she
teased holding my hand tightly.  "Outside, of course," I replied
matter-of-factly.  I let her back to the dugout of the baseball field and sat
her down next to me.  It wasn't dark yet but the sun had nearly set. The
school was completed deserted except for the janitorial staff inside and the
two of us. "So what now?" she asked laying her head on my shoulder. "Our
first kiss was very nice but hardly satisfying for two people who've waited
so long to be alone together, don't you think?" she said as her lips brushed
my cheek. "No, that wasn't very satisfying.  Pleasant, but not satisfying.
In fact, that's why I brought you here. So that we can both be satisfied," I
told her while stroking her long, blonde hair.  "Hmm. That sounds wonderful.
Let's see what we can do to find some satisfaction," she cooed, lifting her
head toward me in anticipation of a longer, deeper kiss.  "It just so happens
that I hold the key to it right here, in the pocket of my leather jacket," I
announced. "Really, satisfaction in such a small place.  I'm VERY intrigued.
Whatever could it be?" she said playfully.  

I reached into my pocket and produced an unopened pack of Virginia Slim
Menthol Lights and a beautiful gold lighter which I gave to her. "Nancy, this
is for you. Every time you light a cigarette, I want you to think of me."  I
opened the pack for her and offered her her first cigarette in just over ten
years.  "You have no idea how badly and how many times I've wanted a
cigarette all this time," she said holding it between her long fingers.
"Once a smoker, always a smoker," I told her. "Pardon?" she asked puzzled
by my remark. "People say once you've been a smoker you are always a smoker
even during periods of time when you aren't actually smoking," I explained.
"I totally agree with that. I think I enjoyed every cigarette I ever smoked
and have waited long enough.  So my I please have a light?" she pleaded.  I
flicked the lighter and a soft flame appeared. Nancy lowered her head to
receive the light and let the tip glow red as she inhaled deeply.  She raised
her head as she took her first drag in oh-so-many years and held in savoring
it as long as she could.  Exhaling she said, "Oh my GOD that was wonderful!
This is SO good. Thank you so very much for our new friendship and
reintroducing me to an old friend from the past." She inhaled again, more
deeply than before and it was then that I turned her head toward me and kissed
her lips softly at first, tasting the delicious smoke coming from deep in her
lungs.

Nancy understood the connection immediately and slid off her leather jacket
taking another huge drag and pulled me close to her for an exquisitely
passionate kiss that made me shudder uncontrollably from head to toe.  I push
her down on the bench and began kneading her supple breasts as she drew again
from her cigarette. "Oh, God, that feels good.  Yes, please, yes. Oh, God,
yes." I brought my knee between her legs and pressed firmly as we kissed and
embraced. Nancy pulled hard on her Virginia Slim exhaling directly into my
mouth.  We tore at each other's clothes as she finished her cigarette.  In
seconds we were both naked at her hand was caressing my swollen member.  Nancy
moaned and purred as she took my shaft into her mouth and took it in until she
could take no more.  "Smoke again for me honey," I said as she bobbed up and
down.  She deftly grabbed another cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply. She
exhaled as she slid her hand and mouth up and down my rod, smoking both
expertly.

I lifted her to her feet and stood her in front of me raising her in the air
and then lowering her down performing a perfect space dock. I slid easily into
her wet mound as she smoked and kissed me.  I kissed her rock-hard nipples
biting them playfully as she rocked back and forth.  She began moaning my name
softly and first and then loud enough so that anyone near the auditorium could
have heard.  I aided in her motions by lifting her gently and then dropping
her down onto my hardened pole over and over.  Her kisses were wonderfully
smoky and as she prepared to climax, she took one last monster hit from her
cigarette, tossed it on the dugout floor and arched back as far as she could
pressing her love button against my shaft.  She exhaled a huge plume of smoke
then I felt her shudder and felt her fingernails digging into my back, clawing
across my shoulders as she yelled `YES' through clenched teeth. Her breath
was hot and smoky and her hair smelled of smoke as it tangled around my sweaty
face.  Spent, I lifted her off me and kissed her softly over and over.  It was
still chilly outside at night and I helped her with her bra and panties then
dressed myself.

We sat for a few minutes holding each other and kissing softly.  "Any
regrets?" she asked.  "Regrets? Me or you?" I questioned back.  "None
here. Except that I didn't act on my feelings earlier," she told me quietly.
I took her hand to walk her to her car. "No, the parking lot is too well lit.
We'll need to say goodbye here, if that's all right," she suggested.  I
could tell she was being careful not to try and sound as though she was in
charge.  She knew already that I would be in control of this relationship
which was just fine with her but I fully understood her need for total
secrecy.  "You're right," I agreed.  "And you need to be getting home."
"I'd like another cigarette if you'll stay with me just a bit more?" she
asked knowing the answer in advance.  I lit this one for her and we held
hands, kissed and made small talk as she enjoyed her cigarette.   I heard
another odd noise than sounded like something had been kicked over in the
parking lot but again paid little attention.  After crushing it out, we kissed
goodnight and I let her go well ahead of before heading to my own car.

"Dinner, My House?"

Concealing our relationship was by far the hardest thing Nancy had ever had to
do in her life.  She knew full well that any disclosure meant not only the
loss of her job but of her marriage and disgrace in the community as well as
with her son.  And yet her desire to be with me made her take risks that both
scared the hell out of her and excited her beyond her wildest dreams. 

Her husband left town the following weekend on what turned out to be a 12-day
business trip.  He flew out early on Saturday and Nancy had spent the entire
day shopping for just the right outfit and preparing a sensational dinner for
us.  I had made apologies with Kathy again by pleading a really bad headache
before driving over to Nancy's.  

I pulled into the driveway and into the garage as we had agreed. The garage
door shut behind me as I parked and opened let myself out of the car. It was
just after 6 o'clock. The door to the house opened revealing a stunning
vision of both beauty.  Standing in front of me was my high school English
teacher wearing nothing but a soft, yellow cashmere cardigan sweater, a pair
of gold earrings, thigh-high stockings, a gold necklace and 4-inch heels.
"So how'd I do?" she asked turning to model for me. "Is this acceptable?"
Before I could answer she stepped toward me and put her arms around my neck
and pulled me close for a long, romantic French kiss.  "Mmm. You taste so
good," I told her noting the fresh taste of a cigarette.  "I love it that
you find smoking so sensual.  I have enjoyed smoking again even more than I
thought I would.  It's set my already cold marriage back even more, but I
really don't care as long as I have us to look forward to," she told me
taking my hands in hers and guiding them down to her lovely, soft breasts.
"Come on, let's sit down and relax. Besides, I need a cigarette very
badly," she told me.  

"I love to here you say that," I told her. "That I love to smoke?  It's
true.  I do." I explained to her that a part of my greatest pleasure came
from not just watching a beautiful woman smoke but from hearing her say things
like `I'm a smoker', `I love smoking', `I really need a cigarette,'
etc.  "May I have a light please?" she asked sweetly. I reached for the
lighter I had given her and opened her nearly empty pack of VS Menthol Lights
and offered her one. "Mmm. Thank you, so much!" she said tilted her head to
receive the flame which caused her cigarette to glow red. She pulled hard and
inhaled deeply, exhaling a creamy, beautiful stream of smoke into her
well-decorated living room.  She tapped her ashes in the half-filled ashtray
and drew another long puff.  Aching with desire for her, I scooted closer to
her and placed my lips on hers.  She allowed her exhale to fill my mouth with
smoke which I then inhaled myself.  The affect was immediate and my arousal
was full.

But I was going to savor this experience to its fullest and had no intention
of a ten minute quickie on the couch.  I held her close with my right arm
wrapped around her neck and slid my left hand inside her soft sweater finding
her hardened nipple waiting to be squeezed and massaged.  I pinched it softly
between my thumb and index finger, which brought an audible gasp of pleasure.
"Oh, God, that feels SO good," she whimpered.  I then took her full breast
in my hand, massaging and kneading first gently then more forcibly.  Nancy
inhaled repeatedly and kissed me while exhaling.  The smell of smoke filled
the room and encircled us in a soft cloud.

My hand slid slowly down her side and found its resting place on her inner
thigh.  I used my middle finger to penetrate her and flicked gently at her
clitoris.  She pulled me tighter, kissing me with her lips and tongue,
whispering how much she loved smoking for me.  I placed another finger inside
her wet vagina then a third and finally a forth.  She was gasping with
pleasure and begging me for more.  I balled my hand into a fist and slowly
inserted it up to my wrist inside of her.  I opened and closed my hand
repeatedly while placing her right hand on her mound so she could pleasure
herself fully while I fisted her for the longest time finding her G-spot and
sending her into a fit of ecstasy.

"Fuck me, please!" she begged.  Instinctively, she reached for her
cigarettes and lit up while laying back on her plushly carpeted floor.  She
inhaled twice as deeply as she could and I immediately penetrated her with my
rock-hard cock.  She ground up against me pushing her love button onto my
shaft and moaned in pleasure.  I pulled myself free and using just the tip of
my member, gently teased her throbbing clit.  Nancy took several more deep
drags, exhaling long, dark clouds of cigarette smoke as she begged me not to
stop.  Just as I felt her start to shudder in orgasm, I plunged deeply back
into her and hammered it home while she squeezed me with all the strength her
legs could muster.  We collapsed in each other's arms a mess of perfume and
sweat and smoke.  Nancy reached for yet another cigarette and lay her head on
my chest as she smoked slowly and deliberately.  "God that was good," she
said.  "Thank you SO much."  I laughed quietly and said, "Glad you liked
it.  The pleasure was all mine. And you're not so bad yourself!" I joked
with her.  

I ended up spending the night with her and we made love four more times the
last just before I left at 8 am. (Oh to be able to do that again-)  Nancy
modeled various things for me and each time I expressed approval, she would
light a cigarette and smoke that for me.  She definitely understood my
fetishes and was more than eager to fulfill them for in so doing, I was
fulfilling hers-the need to feel loved by someone.

I managed to spend two more evenings with Nancy before her husband returned
but it created a HUGE amount of suspicion on Kathy's part.  She bought the
first night out without too much protest but after the second one, I caught
holy hell.  "Where the hell did you go last night?" she demanded.  "You
weren't home, you weren't at Glen's and you damn sure weren't at the
library."  "I spent the night at Mrs. Layman's," I told her.  "Yeah,
right. Okay, fine, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but
please don't insult me by teasing when I'm so upset with you."  I took her
to a drive-in movie that night and apologized before we made love while she
smoked a Virginia Slim Menthol cigarette.  For the briefest of moments, I
forgot about Nancy relishing in the smell and taste of Kathy's skin, which
was now saturated with the scent of cigarette smoke.  "I love you so much,"
she said after we dressed and she had lit another cigarette. "As much as you
love smoking?" I asked teasingly.  "Hmm, `bout a toss up, I guess!" she
replied playfully.  I have to admit I never could have imagined myself a
smoker let alone how much I would enjoy smoking.  But the simple truth is I
absolutely LOVE to smoke and am so grateful you taught me how," she said
sincerely.  "My pleasure," I responded.  "It's what any good Coach would
do-"

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