60's Vacation

60's Vacation

Cathy woke up one bright morning in the summer of `66, hearing the sounds of
the tide coming in. The cottage in Harwichport was lovely; she had always
loved Cape Cod, and now they were on vacation for two whole weeks! She
realized that her husband had risen much earlier to play golf. Looking at the
clock, she understood that he would be coming back within the hour. Cathy
yawned, lifting up her sleep mask and squinted in the early morning sunlight.
She reached for the pack of L & M's on her bedside table. Lighting up, she
lazily smoked in her bed, fondling her tits through the silky baby doll
negligee she had worn when Thomas fucked her last night. Her nipples came to
hardness, and the tingling in her moist crotch begged attention. She put the
cigarette in her mouth as she leaned over to open the drawer of the table,
taking out the marital aid they had bought together in the Village. She
switched it on and it buzzed in her hand. 

She stubbed out her butt and lit a fresh one, kicking off the light covers,
and began to play the vibrator over her pantied cunt. Dragging deeply on her
cigarette, she felt her labia blooming, her pussy began to tingle with
juices. Placing the ashtray within easy reach, she lowered her sleep mask
again, shutting out the light. She deftly pulled the filmy panty aside and
massaged her slit with the pointy tip of the white plastic dildo. With her
other hand, she traced her red fingernails over her nipples through the blue
negligee. The dildo sounded muffled as it entered her wet pussy past its
furry muff of red hair. She smoked as she fucked herself, feeling the strong,
rich tobacco smoke deep in her lungs. Her orgasm came swiftly, and she cried
out in the empty cottage. Basking in the afterglow of her climax, she felt
rich and pampered...


Mrs. Catherine Hilliard was a beauty, a real "trophy wife", if ever there was
one, and she knew it. Long legs, slender build, but with big tits, an ass
that made men cry and beautiful long auburn hair, she had parlayed her looks
and attitude into a jackpot. Thomas the lawyer had married her because she
was a lady in public, but a stone whore in their bedroom. Now, at the age of
thirty-one, she was happily married (for the second time, no kids), had
charge cards with no limits, drove a pink Bonneville convertible, lived in a
huge house in Montauk and generally had the world by the scrotum. 

After she felt composed enough, she got out of bed and brushed her hair,
tying a blue scarf into a hair band. Looking in the mirroe, she cupped her
breasts and winked at her reflection, pausing to put on lipstick. She went to
the kitchenette. Switching on the radio, Cathy heard Frank Sinatra crooning
out his latest hit. She found the bottle of Cutty Sark and poured herself a
glass over two ice cubes. Still dressed (barely) in her nightie, she draped
herself upon the couch and lit a cigarette. Her pussy was still wet and the
odor of sex penetrated the crotch of the filmy blue undies she wore. 


A car approached, crunching the gravel in the dooryard. The door opened and
slammed, then the trunk. Thomas was home. "Good', she thought, `wonder if
he'll find me attractive this way!', and lit another cigarette. The red of
her lipstick stained the white filter tip as she held it between her perfect
matching fingernails. The front door opened, and Thomas Hilliard came in,
perspiring as he lugged his huge leather golf bag. He stopped in his tracks
as he caught sight of his wife. She was drop-dead gorgeous, saluting him with
her glass of scotch and lit cigarette in the same hand...

"Oh...good morning, honey! Did you sleep well?", he asked, putting down his
burden to approach her.

"Mmm-hmmm...'specially after the balling you gave me, lover!", she answered,
and patted the cushion next to her. "See anything you like?", she added
coyly.

He sank to his knees in front of her as she spread her thighs. She dragged on
her L & M and blew her smoke deliberately into his face. His expression went
dreamy, slack jawed. He spotted her wet crotch. The combination of sex and
cigarettes was his drug of choice...his face buried itself in her lap. She
laughed as he breathed in and out most deeply. He looked up into her eyes
with a pleading look. She nodded and said, "Mmmm-hmmm" as she continued to
smoke her cigarette. The ice tinkled in the glass as she finished her drink.
She lifted her hips so he could slip her panties off. His nose went right
into her wet slit, his mouth found her clitoris. After a couple of minutes,
she pushed his head away.

"Ball me, baby! Take me back to bed and ball me good!", she said huskily.

She got up and unzipped his fly, taking out his erect cock. She grabbed it,
her cigarettes and lighter,  and led him into the bedroom. She got up on all
fours and lit another cigarette as he hastily stepped put of his slacks and
jockey shorts. Thomas got up behind her and placed his cockhead against her
wet slit. Cathy rocked backward, sinking his dick up inside her to the hilt.
In the mirror, he watched her reflection; eyes closed, cigarette dangling out
of her red lipsticked mouth as she dragged on it. He grabbed her by the hair
and started to really fuck her. She began to moan, low and mean, like a train
just out of sight...

Later, they showered and Thomas shaved. Dinner was right on the water, at a
restaurant famous for its fresh seafood. Thomas had fried oysters and
Heineken beer; Cathy had clam chowder and a salad, looking gorgeous in a
halter dress. After they finished, she took out a cigarette and held it to
her lips, leaning in as Thomas lit her. Several men watched her as she
smoked; his wife had a way of holding her cigarette pointed almost skyward
after she inhaled, between the very tips of her fingernails. He ignored their
stares, feeling inwardly very smug to have a wife like Cathy. The dress came
to her knees, but she was wearing a spectacular pair of open-toed slingbacks
with a tall heel. The way she crossed her legs only accentuated their shape.
Her breasts sat high, full and very pointy in the longline bullet bra that
she exclusively still wore. She was used to attention from strange men, but
took it in stride. She knew where her bread was buttered...

As the dusk settled upon the water, the seagulls swooped to snatch up bits of
bread that the diners threw to them. The night air smelled of salt, fried
seafood and Cathy's cigarette smoke. Thomas felt like his world was perfect.
The waitress came and asked them if they wanted a look at the dessert menu.
Cathy looked at Thomas with a smile.

"Thank you, but we'll be having dessert later on. Check please!"

They drove back to Harwichport in the darkness. Cathy had not worn panties,
and soon Thomas' hand found her sex. He fondled her to wetness as she smoked,
the cherry on the end of her cigarette glowing brightly as she dragged. When
they arrived, she told him to sit in the easy chair of the front room. He
made himself a drink while she disappeared.  After about ten minutes, she
returned. His eyes almost popped out when he saw her. 

She was dressed in a full length black see-through peignoir, garter belt,
stockings, and tall high heels. She had done her hair up into a bun on the
top of her head, exposing her slender neck. She smoked a cigarette as she
went to her knees in front of him, unzipping him. He took his pants down, and
his cock sprang free. Cathy smiled up at him as she did a snap inhale and
began to stroke him firmly. His dick was huge and angry; she grasped it
tightly, peeling back his foreskin to examine the purple knob. A pearl of
pre-cum appeared as she blew her cigarette smoke onto his cock. She bent
forward and licked up the bead with the very tip of her talented tongue, then
engulfed about four thick inches in her mouth. His eyes rolled back in his
head as she began to blow him.  She paused to take a drag, then let the smoke
drift out of her mouth as she resumed sucking his cock. After a minute, she
stood up and removed the peignoir and turned around, bending over and
grabbing her ankles. Instantly, Thomas knelt behind her and buried his tongue
in her asshole. He tongue-fucked her as she continued to smoke. She was
moaning really well, so he stood up and sank his cock into her,
simultaneously licking and inserting his thumb in her ass. She stood away
from him, taking his cock out. She turned around and lay down on the little
oak table of the kitchenette, beckoning him with a crooked little finger. 

"Light me a cigarette", she urged as she fingered herself. He quickly found
her pack, put one in her mouth and lit her. She purred happily as he fucked
her, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in with every thrust. He bent
down to kiss her lips as she exhaled sweet cigarette smoke. She moaned into
his mouth and humped him hard, grinding her pussy against his pubic bone.
Then he was spewing his cum into her hot sloppy cunt. He threw his head back
and roared with the force of his orgasm. She came fiercely, swearing like he
had never heard her before.


Afterwards, they reclined in a glider on the screen porch, listening to the
sounds of the surf down the beach. He considered just how fortunate he was to
have a wife who was insatiable; one who shared his fascination with smoking,
and was apparently only too happy to entertain him.