Test Subject, Part 8

Author's note:  The following story is satire, and is not intended to, in any
sense, impugn the fine folks at big tobacco companies who, no doubt, put
their customers best interests ahead of their profits.  

The author does not necessarily condone the use of tobacco, by adults or
minors, nor the use of illegal substances, nor masturbation, nor
participation in lesbian sex, nor any other morally questionable practice
depicted in the story.  Later parts of the story contain graphic sexual
language, and are not suitable for underage readers.  
Any resemblance to smoking fetish fiction is purely accidental.  
All other imaginable disclaimers apply.

Test Subject
Part 8: "Bathroom break"

As the next puff of her Allure cigar hit her lungs, Maureen impulsively asked
Dr. Monroe, "Can you show me where the bathroom is around here? I suddenly
really have to go."

If Dr. Monroe knew what Maureen had in mind, she didn't let on. "Sure. Go out
this door, make a right, and the bathroom is all the way at the end."

Hurriedly, Maureen made her way out the door, still chuffing away at her
cigar and inhaling every last bit of its smoke. She followed Dr. Monroe's
directions, and found herself in a small white bathroom. There were no
stalls, but rather a single toilet with a full-length mirror in front of it.
One switch on the wall turned on a single light bulb in the middle of the
room, and the other switch turned on an exhaust fan. Maureen turned on the
light, but then turned off the fan.

She put the cigar in her mouth and took a drag while she pulled down her
tight fitting jeans and her dark green underwear together. As she inhaled,
she was interested to note that her underwear had a small wet spot in the
front. She looked at the cigar, half smoked, burning in her mouth in the
mirror, and she knew what she had to do. She sucked down more of that smoke
that she worshiped, put down the seat on the toilet and sat down with her
legs spread apart.

Back in the room that Maureen had just left, Dr. Monroe turned on a second
television monitor. Seeing Maureen's image on the screen, she rushed to the
door and locked it, just in case someone should come in unexpectedly. Dr.
Monroe began to do to herself what she saw Maureen doing in the bathroom.

Maureen began gently touching the outside of her vagina with the index finger
of her left hand as she took several forceful puffs in succession from her
cigar and snapped the creamy smoke down her windpipe and into her heaving
chest. Her index finger got wet as her vagina opened to its touch. As she
exhaled, she softly moaned, as much from the sexual stimulation as from the
large dose of nicotine that she had flooded into her lungs, bloodstream, and
brain.

Systematically, she began taking deep drags as she introduced her middle
finger into the act. She moved it up and down, and then in a circular motion
as she found her clitoris. She tapped off her ash into the toilet as she
alternated between friction and pressure, just like she loved to do.

Her heart was already thumping because of the nicotine in her system, but the
sexual stimulus accelerated its pace, and the nicotine she was pouring into
her body moved even more rapidly from her lungs to her brain. Maureen began
breathing more heavily, as her body required more oxygen, but she denied her
body this oxygen in favor of more smoke. She began huffing her cigar as her
fingers worked on her vagina's sweet spot with increasing rapidity.

She closed her eyes and moaned again in contemplation of the two intense
sources of pleasure competing within her. Smoke coated her lungs like thickly
applied paint, while her vagina tightened with building pressure. Both of her
hands worked quickly. Her left continued to press and rub, press and rub,
while her right took her cigar, now only about an inch long, in and out of
her mouth as she breathed in as much smoke as she could. Maureen began
thrusting her hips up and down, and looked through the now smoke filled room
at her image in the mirror. Her long brown hair was disheveled, sweat dripped
from her body, and her normally cheery blue eyes were vacant with pleasure.
Suddenly orgasm was inevitable, and she took one last pull on her cigar,
sucking its smoke directly into her lungs.

Her vagina felt like a water balloon that was too full and ready to burst,
and burst she did. The convulsions began deep inside her vagina and then
spread like a shockwave throughout her body, which shook violently with a
thrill. Despite her best efforts, she let loose a high-pitched cry. As she
did, smoke escaped through her open mouth and nostrils. As best she could,
she held the smoke inside through the long climax, and then, as she pushed
her fingers forcefully inside herself one more time, she climaxed a second
time, and again her entire frame shook from its impact.

Back in the observation room, unbeknownst to Maureen, Dr. Monroe was
experiencing much the same sensations.

Reluctantly, Maureen dropped her now spent cigar into the toilet and flushed
it. With still trembling hands, she fished a cigarette out of the pack in her
purse lit it, and inhaled slowly. After a few more deeply satisfying drags,
she cleaned herself up as best she could. She felt remarkably alert, but her
steps were unsteady as she headed back to the room where Dr. Monroe was
waiting. 

When she got back, Dr. Monroe had herself lit up a cigarette. "Did you get
lost?" the gorgeous doctor asked.

Maureen remembered what Dr. Monroe had said about getting lost in a good
cigar, and wondered if the question had a double meaning. "Yeah, I guess I
did," she replied, taking another luxurious drag on her cigarette. Looking at
her sister's image on the monitor, she asked, "So, what'd I miss while I was
gone?"

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