The Coach (Introduction) | |
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The Coach by CallieKoe Prelude I've written several "smoking stories" anonymously. I'll leave it to you to figure out which ones. But I get SO tired of reading about the girl who starts at age 13 (or six) in two or three paragraphs. There have to be some real life stories of real men who have "coached" real women to start smoking for them. They may be few and far between but I find it hard to believe that there aren't a few guys out there who've actually lived the fantasy they read and write about. I've had several success stories and would like to share them with you. Introduction: Early Experiences I first discovered my attraction to girls who smoke my freshman year of high school. Two specific scenes come to mind as I try and recall just when and where this intense love affair began. The first was at a local high school baseball game in Washington State where I grew up. My dad I went to the city park to watch our team play our hometown rival. I loved baseball more than anything until high school-when I discovered girls. I still enjoyed playing and watching it, but I had found a new passion in life and that was the opposite sex. At some point during the game, I turned around and noticed a nicely endowed blonde girl in a long-sleeved white rib-knit sweater. She was laughing with her friends and I watched intently as she pulled a long, white-filtered cigarette from her purse. She paused briefly to bring her lighter to the end of the cigarette and then flicked the wheel and inhaled deeply. She turned back toward her friends and smiled broadly again, taking another very deep inhale. I was totally mesmerized by the thick, rich cloud of smoke that exhaled from her soft, full lips. I was both excited and embarrassed; wanting to stare and afraid of being caught. Secretly I dreamed of sitting next to her with my arm around her, my hand sliding up and down her back as she drew deeply on her cigarette. I imagined waiting until she had fully inhaled and then drawing her close to me to kiss her while she exhaled. I became so caught up in this fantasy that I actually had a rather embarrassing early teen moment without so much as laying a hand on myself? It was this experience that somehow seems to have imprinted itself on my mind. Not just a fetish, but a mental tattoo as is were. An attractive girl in a soft, knit sweater that gently hugs her beautiful, shapely figure, who also loves to smoke. Soft, round breasts accented by a figure-hugging top, small waist, and a cigarette. But not "just" a cigarette, but a woman who absolutely LOVES to smoke. Somehow, unconsciously at this point, I knew then that I would never be satisfied with any other kind of woman. No "I started smoking when I was too young to know better and wish-to-God I could quit" ladies. It wasn't until sometime later I formulated my current mantra: THE THREE "S's": Sweaters, sex and smoking. I realized then that any one or two without the other would be incomplete but it would take me some time to figure how to "marry up" all three. The second was at the home of my best friend, Duckey, whose real name was Mark, but being from New Hampshire, well, he just had to have a nickname (like everyone else in his family.) Duckey's mother, Donna, was in her mid-thirties and a still a very attractive woman. While he had lost his New England accent, his mom still spoke in that unique way that turned "r's" into "ah"s". She had a nice figure and a pretty smile and dressed nicely. But what most intrigued me was watching her smoke. She was a pack-and-a-half a day smoker of Winston 100s-the extra long, cork-filtered cigarette. Donna not only smoked heavily but she had an inhale I had never seen before. And she seemed to actually love to smoke. She would take the deepest of drags, hold it briefly, then let the entire cloud slip from her open mouth and then snap it instantly deep into her lungs. I hadn't seen this before but watching her do it absolutely made me CRAZY! Being fifteen, I thought I was some sort of pervert; the only guy on the planet who liked watching women smoke. Of course I also KNEW I was the only person on earth who wacked off so I was sure I was some sort of sicko. Little did I know? I found myself mesmerized by this strange, but oh-so-sexy maneuver. I often found myself looking for opportunities to talk with her alone in hopes of watching her "smoke pretty" as I called it back then. I have no idea how many hours we spent talking. Life, lost loves, dreams and our futures. Some many years later I still believe Donna found this flattering as her husband was a violent, hard-drinking blue-collar man who seemed not to care what she thought or how she felt. But I enjoyed talking with her and at fifteen was surprisingly able to carry on a decent conversation. I think it really made her feel important to have a "younger man" take such an interest in her life. I asked about her past and her dreams and she was only too willing to tell me all her most deeply held secrets. Just before Christmas that year I finally worked up the nerve to ask her when she had started smoking and whether or not she enjoyed it. She laughed and said, "I shouldn't say this to a minah (minor, I believe to all you non-New Englanders) but I LOVE smoking. In fact, I no sooner light one up than I start thinking of my next cigarette. And as to how I started, well that's a rather long story." I listened intently, hanging on every word, as she told me about her first cigarette after her junior prom. "Richard (her husband), had asked me to the prom. He was a senior and I'd had a SUCH a crush on him all year. He was a senior and the quarterback on the football team and SO handsome. I had tried unsuccessfully to flirt with him since before homecoming but he only had eyes for my cousin Dodie (another nickname). I would have done ANYTHING just to go out with him. Do you know how that feels?" she asked me. I blushed as I answered, "Yes, in fact, I do." "Sweet on someone aren't you?" she teased as she reached for another cigarette and inhaled until her cheeks caved in nearly touching each other. While I was above average in conversation for my age, I had no way to express that I so wanted to make love to her while she smoked for me. So instead, I just listened. "In May, just before prom and the end of the school year, Richard just walked up to one day and said, 'Donna, you want to go to prom with me?'" "I completely melted but blurted out, 'YES.'" All he said was "fah out" and walked away. "He actually showed up after I'd spent $100 for a prom dress. A LOT of money back then!" He took me to dinner at the nicest place in town-Averill's diner. All of the couples went there every year. To make a long story short, Richard pulled out a pack of cigarettes at dinner and lit one. I was staring intently at his handsome face and didn't really even notice until he said, "Is this bothering you?" I quickly replied, "Oh, not at all. I didn't even know you smoke." "Since last year," he replied. "You want one?" he asked politely. "No thanks, I said. I'm sure I'd cough and choke on it, but thank you for asking." After dinner, we went to the prom and danced all night long. "It was as if no one else was in the room. Just Richard and me." He never even looked at another girl. I was SO "in love." After the dance we went out to the lake and Richard lit up another cigarette. He handed it to me and said, "Here, honey, take a puff." For some reason, I just took it and did. I had no idea how to inhale and took it straight into my lungs. I really did cough and choke! He laughed and said, "No, no, you have to hold in your mouth for a second then inhale." I tried again, but afraid I'd cough, let it all out at once, then realizing what I'd done, 'pulled' it all back in again. This time it went down into my lungs and it felt, well, SO good. I felt warm and tingly and thought, "Where have you been all my life??" She concluded by saying, "Richard and I, well, that night, we, uh, 'fell in love' and decided to get married. And it was that same night I had him stop by the only store in town still open to buy me a pack of cigarettes. I woke up the next morning and smoked one and have never regretted it to this day." These two scenarios turned out to be seminal events in shaping the future of my life. The combination of sweaters and smoking proved to be the center of my interest in all future women but I was soon disappointed to discover that most women did NOT smoke. In fact, I learned only about one in three or four actually did. And it seemed each time I found myself attracted to a beautiful girl who also wore the things I liked, the first question I would surreptitiously ask her girlfriends was "do you know if she smokes?" Without exception they all thought I was asking to screen them out as possible dates rather than to further pursue them. Not so unusual I suppose unless you consider that I was then a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Mormons. I was a pretty popular guy back then. Class president, good looking, (so I'm told) and someone each girl's mother I dated said would be a "great catch." But in each case, the answer was always "no." It was then that I began to ponder the situation with Donna and Richard and wondered whether a girl could be convinced to smoke by a guy she really liked and who, in turn, really liked her. |
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