Smoing Buddies

This is a true story, though I've changed the names and other details for obvious reasons. I admit that I am a horrible, untrustworthy person. I confess this. I share this story not to cleanse and absolve myself, but because I enjoyed it so much I want to relive it. If you enjoy reading it, then I'm happy to oblige. If you didn't enjoy it and think I'm an asshole, please tell me. I appreciate your honesty. I'm untrustworthy but I am honest.

~

"Holy shit, Heather looks great." I wasn't expecting anything but ya gotta understand: Heather usually doesn't look like this.

I was looking at one of my fellow soldiers: Heather Denneson, as she was walking up the steps to the bar. She was in tight jeans, a tight fitting black long-sleeve shirt, and her straight long blonde hair was down on her shoulders. This was the first time I'd seen her in civilian clothes. And it was the first time I'd seen her hair down.

Her small round face was graced with dimples, a few freckles, green eyes, and a dented chin. Her lips were a little thin and her curved nose was a little big for the rest of her face. In fact, in her duty uniform, with her hair up in a bun, she was as average looking as it got. The uniform doesn't exactly flatter the body. But tonight those jeans and that shirt were her best friends.

Heather was a country girl from southern Georgia, complete with the accent. She was country, but she was sharp. She'd joined the unit a couple years before so we knew each other quite well. But since it was just a reserve unit, we rarely saw each other. We didn't interact much outside of the Military. But she was just one of the guys. One of the belching, cussing, spitting, smoking, beer drinking guys. She was fun.

My reserve unit is about an hour from my house. I could go home each night, and some times do. But when there's an early morning work call, that extra hour of sleep matters. So on those nights I'll get a hotel in the area. On that particular night Sarah, my girlfriend, was giving me shit. So I was only too happy to stay in the Country Inn there in town. By not so much of a coincidence, Heather was staying there too. This was the hotel being sponsored by the reserves for us.

After a particularly rough day of working on HMV's, a few of us who were staying at the hotel agreed to meet at the Tipsy Pig, a bar within stumbling distance of the hotel. Again, this is no coincidence. We agreed on a place and time at which myself, Heather, and 3 other guys would lick our wounds over a few pitchers of beer. That was literally all I expected.

After formation was dismissed, we shot the shit for a few minutes and reestablished our next meeting place and time. Beer-thirty we called it. While driving to the hotel I called Sarah to tell her my plans for the evening. I half expected her to be a little boo-hooy and try to change my mind. (We live together) Instead she did the opposite. She went off on me over simple, stupid shit.

I'd done a few domestic chores around our house before I left for drill, and now she was going to let me know in meticulous detail how wrong I'd done them. I can take criticism but I don't do attitude. So after her third stark reprimand of my performances, I conjectured that her demeanor was likely the result of a monthly biological process. I'd honestly intended that as a joke to lighten her up a bit. That being said, I'm sure you can imagine how it actually went. I couldn't get the phone away from my head fast enough.

"Look, Sarah," I said, deciding to cut the crap. "There's no right way or wrong way to fold fucking shirts and towels. There's your way and my way. And if you don't like my way, I won't inconvenience you with it anymore."

"If you don't fold them the RIGHT way," she shot back, "they don't fit in the closet just right."

"They fit fine." I said. "It's a big closet.

"No they don't. The stacks are all crooked."

"Who cares? It's a closet. No one sees a damned closet."

That was as rational as I could make it but the conversation went into an irreversible tailspin from there. It finally ended when I was pulling into the hotel parking lot.

"I'm at the hotel, Sarah. I'm gonna go get checked in. I'll talk with you later. Have a good night." Her response was a "Humph" and a barely audible "fuck you, too." as she hung up. I was feeling a headache coming on.

I know what you're thinking: Hell. I ask myself the same question all the time. The answer is; I don't know, it's complicated. Some days are just the happiest. We get each other on a level most people don't even comprehend. But there are days when I'm reaching for a bottle or a suitcase, whichever I find first. Since I'm still there that must tell you how far away the suitcases are kept. Anyway, where was I?

I pitched the phone into the passenger seat and went inside to get my room. By the time I was checked in and changed out of my uniform I'd all but forgotten about Sarah's tirade. It was almost beer-thirty.

At around 10 or so that morning I was laying on a creeper under a truck working a ratchet when someone kicked my foot.

"Hey dickhead, come smoke with me." Denneson said in her standard country drawl.

"Gimme a sec'." I said tightening up the last couple of bolts.

"Hurry up."

"Just go on out. I'll be there in just a second. What's your rush?"

"I don't have any." She said glumly. She wanted to bum a cigarette.

Out by the smoking curb we BS'd about the day, other soldiers, and our respective partners. Sarah and I, as some of the guys knew, had our great days and our not-so-great days. Denneson and her husband, as most of us knew, had their okay days, and their really fucked up days.

"He cleaned me out again." She said through a puff of Marlboro. "That's why I don't have any fucking smokes."

"You shitting me?" I said.

"Nope. Still hadn't found another job, and still thinks he can keep a fridge full of beer. Asshole tried claiming me on his tax return a couple weeks ago, along with my return."

"Wow. What a dick."

"I know, tell me about it."

"I've told you: you two need separate accounts."

"I know, but every time I start to mention it, he blows the fuck up. It's just not worth the headache."

"Is it worth it being out of money? Out of smokes?"

"Nah. Alright, I'll see." She said.

"Okay. Hey, some of us are going to the pig tonight after work. You wanna come?" I asked.

"Nah. Thanks though." She said.

"C'mon. You of all people need it tonight. Plus, you never go out with us."

She responded by making the empty pockets gesture.

"Pfft. I've got you covered. Now you're coming out for beer-thirty, or I'm dragging you by the hair."

"Threaten me with a good time, will ya? Alright fine." She relented. With that we flicked our butts and went back to work.

At the Tipsy Pig, over beer, wings and fries, the guys and I were bitching about the truck we were collectively working on all day. We enjoyed a laugh at the expense of Smith who'd smashed his hand (not bad). And we collectively groaned and cussed at the mention of the slave driving motor sergeant who made us all the victims of his short temper and high expectations. Denneson, however, had apparently stood us up. Then Copland looked past me and said, "Hey. Look who decided to join us." I turned to see her walking in.

"What took you so long, Dennison?" Aikerson said.

"It's Heather tonight, fuckfaces." She said, then she looked at me, "I sent you a text. I said I was gonna be a little late." It was only then that I remembered that my phone was still in the car where I'd tossed it after Sarah's meltdown.

"I was on the phone with Luke." (Her husband)

"Oh?" I said. "How'd that go?" She just rolled her eyes as she sat and reached for a glass and the pitcher of beer. And just like that, we were all laughing, joking, smoking, and cussing again. To Denneson - Heather, we were either dickhead or fuckface. Smith was called a pussy for bitching about his hand. Seeing her like this; genuinely laughing, and happy, and relaxed, she took on a whole different image than just one of the guys in the Motorpool. She was actually kind of cute. I found myself checking her out.

As the evening progressed, one by one the guys headed out. Heather was again calling them pussies, but that's because she was barely tipsy whereas we all had a head start on her, and were pretty good and drunk. But since I'd invited her, I stayed to keep her company. We continued to joke with each other until the rest of beer was finished off. As we made our way up the sidewalk to the hotel, her mood shifted a bit.

"Thanks." She said to me. "I really needed this."

"That bad?" I replied.

She rolled her eyes again and made an exasperated sound.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked.

"The sonofabitch called ME the selfish one. I'm selfish for joining the army and leaving him alone when I go to drill. I'm selfish for not wanting him to have a few beers. And I'm selfish for 'hogging' the money." She said.

"Wow. So what are you gonna do?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't know. I just don't want to move back in with my parents."

We went back and forth on the subject of her no-so married bliss until we reached the hotel parking lot. Once there, she asked me how things were with Sarah and I. But given the gravity of her domestic issues, mine weren't worth mentioning so I just shrugged.

"Fine."

From where we entered the parking lot, we were closer to the side entrance. That side of the building was deserted as was that hallway inside the hotel. As we approached the door, we stopped to say our goodnights.

"Thanks again," I really appreciate it." She said. And as I was about to answer her she leaned in and hugged me. I expected this to be a simple expression of gratitude, but she let the hug linger. Then she sniffled. I was surprised to see that tough country girl exterior finally crack.

I'll take this opportunity to admit my next move was that of a selfish asshole. I saw an opportunity and I took full advantage.

With her arms around me and her head on my shoulder I had direct access to her neck and ears: a carnal weakness of mine. I leaned in, under the guise of tightening the embrace, putting my face on her neck just behind her ears, then I inhaled deeply. She smelled so good. With my face nuzzled up on her like that my cock began to stiffen.

At first we just stood like that with my lips pressed against the milky, smooth skin of her slender neck, then I gave up the ruse of the tender embrace and began kissing and nipping at her neck. She tensed and froze.

I half expected her to push me away and punch me. But she just stood there. So I nipped my way around her jawline to her chin, then her lips. Then I could look into her eyes. They were wide open.

"You okay?" I asked her. She just nodded. I cupped her face and brushed her hair from her forehead before I leaned in and kissed her full on. It was do or die at this point. She finally responded by returning the kiss, leaning her body into mine, and moaning a sigh of relief. She darted her tongue around mine. I held her face and stroked her hair. At any moment, someone could have come down the hall to the side door, seen us, and we'd have been busted. Big trouble. That idea wasn't lost on her. She pulled away.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, worried that she'd changed her mind and now things would be awkward.

"Yeah," She said confidently. "But let's get out of public view, huh?"

Strong Denneson was back. With that we both hurried through the outside door, then just to the right was the stairwell door. We sprinted through that and started making out again as we attempted to climb the stairs. Did I mention that we were drunk?

We stumbled on the first step and, in a fit of hysterics, landed seated next to each other on the steps. I hefted myself up, then reached down to help her up, but she stopped. From this position she was at eye level with my belt. She raised her eyebrows, bit her lip, and giggled.

"How long has it been since I've sucked a cock?" She asked herself as she reached up and started opening my pants. When she pulled my boxers down and my dick sprang forward it almost hit her in the face. That prompted more laughter from both of us. Then she took me in her hand and massaged me a few strokes. I was already dripping precum so she worked it into her strokes.

I had to grab the handrail to keep from falling over as she took me into her hot mouth and moaned. At first, she quickly took me all the way into her mouth until her nose was on my belly. Then she slowly backed out, moving her tongue side to side until she reached the head then she did it again, and again, and again. Then she picked up rhythm and incorporated her hand. With one hand stabilizing myself on the hand rail, I stroked her hair with the other. Then I slowly moved my hand down her head, down her neck, then reached inside her shirt and started rubbing her tits. She moaned again. She bobbed her head and jacked her hand furiously on my dick, moaning with every pass until I was just about to cum.

But instead, we heard a door open on the level above us, and footsteps heading down. We had only a few seconds before we were busted.

As soon as we heard the door we jolted. Heather quickly scrambled to her feet almost knocking me over, and I struggled to maintain balance and stuff my hardon back into my pants. That is actually more painful than I would have thought.

Both of us were laughing to each other as Smith came down the landing just as I had finished zipping my pants and turning around. He was holding a ziplock bag of ice water on his smashed hand.

"You guys just getting back?" He said none too suspicious. He hadn't seen anything.

"Yeah" we both said in unison, and almost too hurriedly.

He shot us a sideways glance, "You look like you both sprinted back."

We looked at each other, still trying not to laugh, then shrugged and didn't say anything.

"Alright. I'm just going to the ice machine and have a smoke. " he said gesturing to his ice pack. "Wanna join me?"

We both politely declined under the guise of being drunk and tired.

"Okay" he said stepping into the hallway. "See you tomorrow."

We said our good nights to him as he left for the ice machine. Once the stairwell was empty we looked at each other with a "well now what?" Look.

"That was pretty stupid of us." Heather said in a less jovial tone.

"Yeah," I nodded in agreement. "We would have been in so much shit."

Her tone, and the fact that she started walking up the stairs suggested to me that we'd had our fun and now it was time to grow up and go to bed. Then she looked back at me as I started walking behind her.

"Which floor are you on? Mine's on the 4th and I don't feel like climbing all that."

"I'm on the second." I said almost too triumphantly.

As soon as we'd made it to my room and closed the door, another persona emerged: she was apprehensive. She turned to me but looked off somewhere else while she thought.

"Look, um. Before we go any further, I need to know that you won't go telling everybody. I don't want that kind of reputation: the girl that gets drunk and gives it up." She slurred.

Her cheeks and nose were red. She was definitely drunk. She wasn't completely out of her mind, though. She knew what she was saying. And she knew what she was about to do.

I don't exactly consider my promising to keep our little tryst to myself a noble act. There wasn't much honorable about this. But at the time I felt like it was. And now here I am breaking that vow to you all.

After I promised, the ice began to melt a little. Again I put my arms around her waist drawing her into me. She moaned, almost whimpered as I leaned to one side nipping her neck again. At first she was unresponsive and I feared she would clam up again. But slowly she started moving her hands around my body. I turned her face to mine and we pressed each other's lips together. Then she parted her lips and projected her tongue into my mouth. I returned with my tongue.

At first, the kissing was slow and tender. But as we attempted to make our way to the bed we picked up intensity. We were pulling at each other's shirts and pants while still making out. I kicked off my shoes, she unfastened her pants. I grappled with her shirt while she pulled at mine. It was a furious frenzy of clothes, lips and tongues.

When we were both down to our underwear I pushed her backwards onto the bed. She giggled, propped herself up on her elbows and shot me a sly, seductive glare while she bit her lip. Seeing her with one knee raised, half her lower lip between her teeth in a black thong and matching lacy bra was all I could stand. I reached down, grabbed her ankles, and yanked her towards me, parting her legs.

I knelt down at the edge of the bed with her knees on either side of my head. I leaned over and began nipping and tonging her inner thigh while I reached up and massaged her mound through the sheer fabric of her tiny lacy panties. She instantly responded. Her back arched and her pelvis pushed against my fingers. But again, her moans were soft and subtle. As my face inched closer to her I could feel the warmth coming from her. The closer I kissed up her thigh the more she writhed. Her crescendo came before I even reached her. I was licking the crevice between her thigh and her panty line when she clenched down on my head almost too hard, grabbed my hair, tensed her whole body, and undulated a vocal response through her teeth.

As she came down from the orgasm, she relaxed her legs and hands' grip on my head while she caught her breath.

"Wow. It's been a while, hasn't it?" I asked her.

"Yeah." She said still breathing heavy. "I guess it has. That was fucking intense."

We shared a small laugh together at that. Then I reached up and and slid my hands down the sides of her beautiful body nibbling at her waist and belly until I reached the base of her navel. I grabbed the sides of her thong. She breathed in sharply and held her breath as I slowly slipped them over her wide hips revealing a modestly trimmed patch of dark brown pubic hair over a red and slightly engorged, glistening pussy.

I parted her knees and picked up where I left off, at inside of her hip joint right next to her lips. I trailed my tongue over and across her lips, then slowly probed the crease in her pussy. I lapped at her mound in broad strokes, tasting her, then slowly pushing my tongue into her. The deeper I licked her the tighter her fists clenched my hair, drawing me deeper still. I sucked her clit into my lips and teased it with the tip of my tongue. This resulted in tighter fists and more whimpers. Still flicking her clit, I reached up and began teasing into her with my middle finger. She was tight, warm, wet, and soft. Her whimpers became almost as sobs and she began to convulse. A wave of juices came over me as another wave of orgasms came over her.

Since the moment I got my lips against her smooth skin, nipped her neck, held her warm body against mine, smelled her beautiful fragrance - a mix of some flowery body wash and her own scent - and just breathed her in down in the parking lot, my dick was straining for attention. Then having Smith interrupt us in the stairs, and now watching her get off twice in as many minutes, I was almost in pain. I was dying to be inside of her.

Once more she was coming down from the high of her orgasm as I climbed up the length of her body and joined her on the bed. I reached behind her and unfastened her bra. She grabbed and discarded it on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

I took a moment to admire her completely nude. She had a couple moles just above her breasts. Her waist was narrow and her hips were wide. She had a slight bulge in her belly and her legs were toned from all the running we do. Her breasts were small, as were her nipples. They were about the size of a dime. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she had a mild sheen of perspiration.