Traffic Jam

(by anonymous, 18 February 2004)

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Traffic Jam

     Ever since she could remember, 16 year old Ann and her family had been
going to the Daytona 500 in February.  Her father was an avid racing fan.
The trip had always been a fun and exciting time for the whole family.  It
was a few days off of school for Ann and her 13 year old sister Samantha.
This year, however, was different for Ann.  

     Traffic had slowed to a crawl along the interstate leading to Daytona,
with the cars rarely exceeding 10 mph.  It seemed to Ann like the trip was
taking days.  She was hot and sweating in the back seat; and as her mother
lit yet another cigarette, Ann could feel a force ripping at her insides,
trying to get out and feed.  When the smell hit the back seat, the fury of
the monster intensified.  It was desperate.  Her hand was shaking and gripped
at her purse.  She felt the sharp corners of the box and remembered her first
time 10 months earlier.

     Ann hated it the first time, but with gentle urging from her boyfriend -
including fingering her pussy every time she took a drag - she rapidly became
used to it.  Within a month, the fingering was replaced by wild fucking.  It
drove him wild to see her smoke.  As for Ann, she loved the feeling of her
tits bouncing around as she pumped nicotine into the space behind them.  The
combination of smoke and sex would send her to a world of ecstasy that no
impressionable young mind would want to leave.

     She promised herself that smoking would be something she only did during
sex.  Three weeks later she started initiating intercourse to feed her small,
three-day-a-week habit.  As the slow progression to addiction continued, Ann
started supplying the necessary stimulation herself.  While it lacked the
physical pleasures of a big dick and hard pumping hips, it did get her a few
cigarettes every day.  Her conscious mind was oblivious to the lock nicotine
had forged on her body.

     Four months after initial contact with cigarette smoke, Ann was smoking
a half a pack a day openly with friends.  She still engaged in her
masturbation when her boyfriend wasn't available, and used him liberally when
he was.  Smoking openly around her family wasn't going to happen anytime soon
though.  Her mom, an inveterate smoker, was constantly harping at Ann and
Samantha never to start.  Once could be enough to get you hooked, and it was
so bad for you.  Yes, so bad, Ann thought, but so good too; and right now the
goods outweighed the bads by a ton.

     Now 24 hours removed from her last hit on a cigarette, Ann was trapped
with her family in teh back seat of a personal hell.  Smoke drifted towards
her, the trembling worsened, and Ann knew she had no other choice.  Her hand
slipped into her purse and pulled out the pack and a lighter.  Samantha
gasped as Ann's hand withdrew shakily and she saw the cigarettes.

     "Mom, Dad," Samantha began as she pulled a cigarette from the pack,
"I've been smoking almost a year, I'm hooked, and I don't want to quit.  And
right now I'm going to smoke or I'll be forced to kill you all."

     With that, Ann lit her cigarette.  Her dad glared at her through the
rear view mirror, and her mom twisted around in her seat to look.  The first
drag was just to get it started, but the second was a huge, cheek-hollowing
drag.  Ann didn't just inhale the smoke, she sucked it in hard.  Almost
immediately the monster stopped clawing, it was truly the most relaxing
feeling she had ever had.  She pursed her lips and blew the smoke towards her
mom.  Her eyelids fluttered as the nicotine hit her brain.

     After the exhale, Ann's mom turned toward her dad.

     "I don't think a lecture is going to end this," she said, "just judging
from the size of that last hit and the expression on her face.  You know the
look, right Jim."

     Her dad just nodded.  The trip continued to crawl on.  But for Ann, it
had sped up considerably.  

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