Kelly - A True Story

***NOTE:  This story is unlike many others that you will find on this
website.  What makes this story unique, is that it is absolutely 100% true.
No names have been changed.  The following account is exactly what happened.
It is based on a living, breathing, real person.***

Kelly - A True Story
by smokingbeauties@yahoo.com

I first met Kelly while working at a restaurant in southern Maine.  She was
one of the managers, as was I.  Kelly was almost ten years older than I at
the time, but unlike me, she didn't smoke.

We worked together at one restaurant, and we got along phenomenally.  Many of
our co-workers commented that there was a lot of sexual tension between us,
which I hoped was true, but I wrote it off.  It was primarily her
personality, I had concluded.

At the time, Kelly was about 33 years old.  She was absolutely beautiful.
She had big blue eyes, and shoulder length dirty blonde hair.  I teased her
that I figured she was the "head cheerleader type", and she once admitted
to me that she had in fact, been a cheerleader in high school.

When I would take my cigarette breaks, Kelly would joke that she was going to
start smoking, just so that she could get an extra break throughout the day.
What I didn't tell her, was that nothing could possibly drive me more wild.

Kelly's wholesome image led to a lot of innocent jabs by her co-workers.
Once, we tried to figure out what the worst thing she'd ever done was.  I
led the friendly investigation, because of my secret desire to find out if
she'd ever smoked.

As we soon found out, she had smoked a cigarette once, when she was about 15
in high school.  She said that the experience nearly made her throw up.  I
figured I'd never get to see her smoke.  She also admitted that when she was
about 19, she had gotten high once, but didn't really enjoy the sensation
that the marijuana gave her, and she'd never done it again.

One night, after closing the restaurant, I was having a cigarette outside.
Kelly came out, just to talk to me.  I joked that I was going to force her to
smoke, just so I could see her reaction.  I doubt there are many fetishers
who haven't tried the same line, just to see a beautiful woman smoke.

She declined, saying that it wouldn't be a very good reaction, because all
she'd do is get sick.  I compromised by blowing smoke in her face, which she
still didn't seem too fond of, understandably.

Shortly after this night, Kelly quit her job at that restaurant for a better
paying job at another.  I was understandably saddened by her departure.
There was an undeniable chemistry between us, and I hated to see that end.
My sadness didn't last long.  A disagreement with management decisions made
me want to leave my current position.  It didn't take long before my
friends, who knew of my "crush", suggested I should call Kelly at her new
restaurant, and see if she was looking for anyone to fill management
positions.

After a few weeks, I made the call.  Kelly hired me over the phone, with
absolutely no interview.  She knew me, she knew how I worked, she (I hoped)
knew how we were together.

Within hours of working together again, the chemistry was obviously still
there, stronger than ever.  I secretly wondered how long I could go without
telling her how I felt about her.  I didn't want to tell her, because she
was happily married with two children.  (Her daughter, Cassandra, was only
14, but already well on her way to becoming just as beautiful as her mother!)

Since we lived in the same general direction, and we worked the same shifts,
Kelly suggested that we carpool to and from work.  I was eager to accept.

One day, I woke up sicker than you could imagine.  My throat was just about
swollen shut, I had a fever, and just about every other symptom you can think
of.  A trip to my doctor's office revealed that I had a severe case of strep
throat.  I didn't want to not see Kelly.  I felt like I had to see Kelly.
Call it obsessive, but I cared about her a lot.

I went in to work that night, and at one point, the conversation turned to my
being sick.  I (partially) joked that since I was sick, we would have to
cancel our "make-out session" scheduled for that evening.

Kelly said she was disappointed, and she was looking forward to it, at which
we both laughed.

That's when the idea popped into my head.

"You know," I nervously started.  " We can't make-out, but we could smoke
together, which would be a similar type of bond."

To my amazement, Kelly accepted my invitation.

"Yeah, right," I said in denial.

We finished our shifts, and at the end of the night, I told Kelly that since
she had driven that day, I would wait outside for her and have a cigarette.

"Okay, I'm almost done," she said with a smile.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Kelly came out.

What neither of us knew, was that in just a few seconds, her life was about
to change.

"Are we gonna have a smoke or what?" she said.

"Do you really want to?" I asked.

"Yeah, why not?" she replied.

I could hardly contain the erection in my pants.  Here before me was this
absolutely adorable 33 year old woman, who had only smoked once in her life,
nearly 20 years earlier, and she was asking me for a cigarette.

I took the lighter and pack of Marlboro Lights out of my pocket, and handed
them to Kelly as she sat on the concrete step behind the restaurant.

My heart was thumping as she put the cigarette between her beautiful lips.

She flicked the lighter, and brought the flame to the tip.  Without inhaling,
she immediately blew out a small cloud of smoke.

"I can't believe you're smoking," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.  "My husband smokes all the time, it's really no
big deal."

"But you've never smoked before," I said, forgetting that she had smoked
that one time in her teens.

"Yes I have," she snapped, taking another small puff and blowing the smoke
out.

"Yeah, but you were like fifteen!  That hardly counts!"  I said.

"No, I smoked half of a cigarette on Memorial Day," Kelly stated with
another puff.

"You did?  Why?"  I asked.  Kelly said that she had attended a family
Memorial Day picnic, and just about everyone was smoking, so she figured she
might as well smoke a cigarette with them.

I was astonished.  She had tried smoking as an adult a few months earlier.  I
liked that image nearly as much as I liked the sight I was currently seeing.

"You're doing it wrong, you know," I said.  "You've got to inhale."

"How do I do that?" Kelly asked.

"I'll show you," I said.  "First, you take a puff.  Breathe out your nose
while you do it, then take the cigarette out of your mouth.  Keep your mouth
closed, and breathe slowly in your nose, which will push the smoke into your
lungs."

"Oh, I can do that!" Kelly said.

She tried to do just that, too.  She brought the filter up to her lips, put
it in her mouth, and took a moderate sized drag.

She inhaled the smoke, as instructed, and immediately coughed it out.

"You'll get the hang of it," I assured her.

"I guess," she said.

After a few more attempts, Kelly was getting the hang of inhaling the smoke.
She was hardly coughing at all anymore.  

But then, just as quickly as it started, it was over.  Kelly was done with
her cigarette, and she stubbed it out on the pavement.  We got in the car,
and drove home.

That night, all I did was fantasize about seeing Kelly smoke that one, single
cigarette.  It was amazing.  I will spare you the details of what I had to
do, you've all done the same thing.

The next night, I wanted to see Kelly smoke again.  After our shift, I half
jokingly asked if she wanted another cigarette so we could bond some more.
To my delight, she accepted.  And this time, she knew what to do.

Seeing Kelly smoke was something I had dreamt about for months.  Finally,
here she was, smoking a Marlboro Light, and inhaling every drag, right in
front of me.  It was almost more than I could stand.

We got in the car afterwards, and somehow our conversation turned to our
chemistry.  

"It's not like you don't know that I would date you if you weren't
married," I said to her, terrified that she'd laugh at my revelation.

"No you wouldn't," she said.

"Yeah, Kel, I really would," I said.

"I don't believe you," Kelly said sincerely.

My next move stunned even me.  Without thinking, without hesitation, I leaned
over and kissed her.  Not just a peck on the cheek, either.  This was an all
out, tongue-flopping kiss.  The only thing that surprised me more than the
act itself was that she kissed me back, just as enthusiastically.

For a few weeks, this continued.  We'd work together, and afterwards have a
cigarette or two.  We'd ride home, holding hands, and I'd kiss her good
night.  I consciously pushed the thought that she was married out of my head.
I cared about this woman, and I wanted to be with her.  Apparently, I wasn't
the only person thinking about that, either.

One night, I'd had a particularly rough night.  After our shift, I told
Kelly I was going outside to smoke a cigarette and wait for her.  She agreed,
not knowing that the real reason was that I was going outside to smoke a
joint.  

Not wanting to get arrested, I stood behind one of the dumpsters, just out of
view, so that I could see when she was coming out.

She came out as I  lit the joint.

"Want some?" I offered.

"No, thanks, I've got to drive home," she said.

I knew she was right, and that she shouldn't drive stoned, but I really
wanted to see her smoke.

"Come on, just take a few hits for the road," I coached.

"I can't do that," she started.  "I've got two kids home waiting for
me!"

"That doesn't stop your husband," I said, referring to an earlier
statement she had told me about her husbands "chronic activity".

"Just a few hits," I said, holding the joint her direction.

"I'll take one hit, that's it," she said.

I figured that would be better than nothing.

"That's fine," I said.

She took the joint from my hand.

As she brought it towards her mouth, she said, "I can't believe I'm doing
this!"

She put the twisted tip in her mouth, and the tip glowed bright as she
inhaled the thick pot smoke into her lungs.

She held the smoke inside, and passed the joint back to me.

She giggled as she held the smoke, allowing a little to escape her nose.

She exhaled a cloud of smoke towards the night sky.  The tail end of her
exhale snuck out her nostrils.  The street lamp behind her offered the
perfect lighting for the perfect environment.

"Want a cigarette?" I asked.

"Sure," she said.

We smoked those cigarettes to the very end, before returning to our ritual of
the ride home, the hand holding, and the kiss good night.  It was amazing.

Kelly had introduced me to her children, and I found them a lot of fun.
Neither of them liked Kelly's husband, who wasn't their father, and
commented that they wished I could be their step-dad.  This made me feel
incredible.  Secretly, I wanted the same thing for Kelly and I.

Not long after we smoked pot together, Kelly and I made love for the first
time.  We had to sneak around, for reasons too complicated to explain here.
We made love outside on a hill, under the stars.  It was amazing.  This was
the only time we made love, but I think of it often.

One night on the ride home, Kelly confessed that she'd finally "broken down
and bought a pack".  Was this true?  Had Kelly actually started smoking
regularly?  Indeed, she had.

Over the course of our few month fling, I saw Kelly smoke about 15, maybe 20
times.  I loved every single one of them.  I got to work one day at another
location the restaurant owners owned, and had a cigarette before I went in.

Kelly came out and said, "Can I have a cigarette?"

One of our employees said, "Kelly, I didn't know you smoked!"

"I do occasionally," she said.

"Cool!" said the employee.

Once, I asked Kelly if she was smoking every day.  She said she had been.  I
asked her who knew, and she said that no one knew.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" I asked.

"I don't want my kids to know I smoke," she said.

I agreed with her, though I secretly thought that maybe if she smoked for the
next 3 or 4 years, when her daughter Cassandra was old enough (of course),
maybe mother and daughter would share a beautiful habit.  

Not long after we made love, Kelly unexpectedly quit her job.  She moved to
northern Maine to stay with her parents for a little while.  She said she
"had some thinking to do".  I felt bad, because I'm sure that I'd caused
conflict within her and the sanctity of her marriage.  Part of me says that
she wasn't happy before, or she wouldn't have done anything with me.

I don't know if she stayed with her husband or not.  I don't know if Kelly
ever got high again or not, though I'd like to think she did.

I only saw Kelly one more time after she quit.  Driving down the road, she
passed me.  I didn't get a good look at her, but I was able to clearly see
that she was holding her arm propped up on the door, smoking a cigarette.