But I Do Smoke

This is a very loose follow up to "But I don't Smoke".

This diary format story is set several years after Debbie and Simon's "Non-smoking journey".

This has been sitting on my hard drive for a few years. I believe my story writing has improved since I wrote it.

But I do Smoke

4th October

Diary had a great Friday at work, the day didn't start particularly well, but got better- in this damp autumnal air is evil with my morning cough, as persistent as ever. But you know as always it is soon solved thanks to my wonderful filter-less Pall Malls. As I have said this numerous times to you. I still lie there in the morning and as I slowly wake up, I enjoy the feeling of the smoke entering my now rather crap lungs. Diary, I still think it's good to thank Francine for all those years ago for "accidentally" leaving the pack of Pall Malls with my mom. Because as I lie there in bed and inhale the delightful smoke deep into my lungs and feel the wonderfully pure unfiltered tar and nicotine working its way through my utterly shot alveoli. Even after all this time I still get that momentary jolt of pure pleasure. I know I can enjoy my time with cigarettes as I know I have about twenty minutes before Brett wakes up. The lazy bastard, he is never in any hurry to get up. He doesn't need to get to work until much later.

This gives me more than ample time to light up and smoke and enjoy all three of my 'first thing in the morning cigarettes' before I can even consider getting up to have my 'before shower cigarette'. With that one I can sit there and smoke it with my fat ass on the throne whilst I have my much-needed morning wee. Those eco warriors who complain about water wastage, no chance; I can't spend too long in the shower unless I am removing my leg and pit whiskers, which I had to do today. As soon as I am dry, I need my pre-breakfast cigarette.

Mom has always said the morning cigarette was the best, the only thing after all these years as you know, I can't work out, and she never said which one. I must ask her one day.

For me, Diary, the question is 'which one of my morning cigarettes are best?' Maybe it is the first one? No, it's never enough, the second one is where I start to feel normal. Though I could argue to say that every single cigarette lit and inhaled is precious and special and for me very much NEEDED and enjoyed. There is a slight moment of sadness each time when it is stubbed out, but that is counteracted knowing that very soon I will light another one. Sorry Diary, I am digressing again.

The traffic on the commute was awful as ever, but the traffic jam gave me enough time for four more cigarettes. It's just like the old days, car, radio, and cigarettes. What I was missing and I just needed was my mom beside me, I guess. However, it did mean I was ready and could face my inbox and my colleagues.

Diary, today for some strange reason it was such a long time until 10 and my first regulated cigarette break, I can see why Mom decided not to be office based for all those years. A smoke-filled life was just easier.

It was an uneventful day at work, my nagging cough it's getting on my tits, my lungs hate me at the moment, but hey ho. Again, I do know that there is always another cigarette that will solve that.

What got me through the day was that it was a date night again tonight. I think Brett really wants a baby; he keeps ploughing me with wine and then trying to have sex. If I didn't think I would have a coughing fit almost every time we, did it. I am sure I would love to have more sex. I do enjoy feeling him within me, honestly. I don't need to be drunk to have sex with him.

I'm trying to write this whilst he is in the shower, fucker jumps out of bed for a wash as soon as he comes. I'm not allowed just because I wash out the "good stuff". The only good stuff I am interested in comes directly from the smoke in my wonderful Pall Mall that goes into my lungs. I appreciate the closeness from Brett, but to be truthful if I lie in bed, I am still annoyed that Simon dumped me all those years ago at Christmas and got with that bitch Ginny.

I heard the other day via Tiffany that she was a 'health nut', always in the gym and liked to run half marathons for fun. Diary, Brett, and I this evening had to run for the last bus in the pouring rain. It's difficult enough to run in a fitted little black dress and a 3" heel after lots of drinks at the best of times, but hell, was I out of breath once we got there. I was literally on my last gasp. Luckily, we caught it, but I really NEEDED a cigarette once we got off. It was like I was drowning in emotions.

Yes, it should have been an easy jog. A few years ago, it would have been a breeze. Am I sad that I left that gym life behind, but to be honest with you Diary, no, plus I am convinced that I probably must still look better than Ginny?

Diary, I know I'm not really fat! But things that used to be firm are now more than a little soft and wobbly. I used to be proud of my gym honed washboard stomach. It's still there if I stretch my back straight and don't slouch. I am slim, but I have to admit that there are no longer any muscles. As Brett says I have sexy curves and there is something of me to hold!

I can even remember the day that Mom taught me, if you smoke, you don't need to eat as much. The problem is working in the office all day with limited smoke breaks means time without smoking...which makes you hungry. I end up with far too many chocolate and crisp snacks in my drawer. I need to do something with my fingers. Remember Diary, I must buy some more for Monday. I look forward to my hourly ciggy breaks and of course lunch time so I get to my car and then I can smoke freely for half an hour! As long as I have my pack of Pall Malls, I am good. The next focus is of course home time, and the exciting drive, however slow, is absolute smoke-filled bliss!

Brett had suggested earlier in the week that we romantically go to the cinema this evening as it was our anniversary, I think he had probably run out of ideas. I suggested a meal. The idiot, how does he expect me to sit there for two whole hours- or more and watch a film. It's impossible for me. They need advert breaks every twenty minutes if I am going in there as I will miss the bloody movie! I told him we can wait until it comes out on Prime, or Netflix and we will definitely watch it then.

We ended up getting a bus (Brett being a romantic cheapskate again- we could have been quicker and so much easier for my lungs if we had got a taxi!) to the local bar for a couple of drinks; I had put my hair up, so it looked good. Pam has retired...I must get around to getting it cut short again, and my dress had a low-cut top which I know Brett likes, it shows off my chest and it highlights my curves.

This morning, I even put on the stupid, sorry -sexy, itchy AND scratchy faux diamante bright pink underwear that Brett had bought me for valentines this year. They had spent six months buried at the bottom of the drawer. I stupidly thought it was about time I treated him and actually wore them. To be honest, Diary, I haven't done the washing this week yet, as it's always raining, and the pink thong had worked its way to the top of the knicker drawer, so then annoyingly had to spend five minutes to find the matching bra. I really should have worn my large cream spandex control knickers, would have made my hips and arse look better in the dress.

The one thing I do know now, control knickers are cheaper and less effort than going to the gym! Yes Diary, maybe I should go back, burn off the calories...one day, I will, I promise. The one thing that I do miss is getting my endorphins fired up on the running machine. Yes, Diary, I know I have replaced it with nicotine as it does something similar. Diary, I do have that deep seated problem that the thought of running just makes my lungs want to cough and even that makes me feel even more tired than ever! I guess continuing to feed my bloodstream with quite so much CO

2

is not good!

Anyway, I will give Brett the benefit of the doubt as the Valentines bought bra did make my breasts look amazing. However, I think the set might be half a size too small. The straps and elastic dig in and show on my soft hip fat far too much nowadays. Oh, to be ten or so years younger and to be gym fit like I used to be. One of these days I will honestly get back there! I used to really like my size 8 waist and hips.

However tonight- according to Brett- I looked sexy, which was nice of him to say. I expect he probably spent a fortune on the knicker set or actually in hindsight knowing him it was a bargain off eBay. It's nice that he is actually sometimes romantic to me!

Anyway, we had a couple of cheeky pints under the heat lamps, along with the rather enjoyable "home from work for the weekend" chain lit half a pack of Pall Malls that go with them. As I have said hundreds of times, they do go together rather well. After we had finished, we headed over the road for a meal at the "posh" Italian restaurant. We could have easily ordered Dominoes and sat at home if he just wanted a bloody pizza. I could have then sat in my elasticated grey jogging bottoms and a comfy jumper on the sofa, or if he wanted, I would have, as it was our anniversary, even sat there naked. At least I could have smoked. Brett chose a restaurant where there was no bloody outside seating!!! True he chose it because it had a high TripAdvisor rating. Did none of them smoke? Did Brett honestly think he was being romantic hey? The idiot smokes himself- okay nowhere near as many as me- surely, he could have thought about that.

I was a good girl and managed to get through the end of the main course before I desperately needed another ciggie and had to go outside in the fucking rain and smoke, yes Diary I needed to! I have said to you hundreds of times, standing outside and smoking in rain is no fun at all.

That summer that I helped Mom, and she "taught" me to smoke, I think back it must have been sunny every day? I can't think of a single rainy day. It must have been done. It was as if I had the freedom to smoke everywhere. Oh, Diary what a summer that was.

Well, this evening I was standing dragging hard and trying to enjoy the pleasure that the cigarette, there with rain drops falling off my nose gave me the best I could. I very much needed the smoke; I just know I am now going to get a bloody cold from standing out in the rain. Brett didn't even bother to come and join me. Just sat there smiling at me holding his glass of wine, looking through the rain-soaked window smiling like a Cheshire cat as I got drenched. What was he trying to prove, be all manly and that after a skinful, he can go a little longer without a ciggy? Did he offer me a coat? Of course, he bloody didn't. Also, I should have also worn tights; the wind was cold on my shaved smooth legs. On another note, Diary, don't you just hate the feeling of rain going down your back?

After a couple of vodka and cokes and most of the rest of the pack of Pall Malls back across the road in the pub and then debacle of fucking running to catch the last bus home we got in the house. Luckily the bus stop is outside our house. Brett was clearly horny for me as he was trying to undo my skirt the moment we got into the hallway. The bugger had managed to get it around my ankles by the time I turned the hallway light on. All I really wanted was another cigarette, a pee, and my warm pink fluffy pajamas!

Anyway, I relented and delayed the pajamas so after visiting the toilet with which Brett just loves to stand and lean on the door frame while I sit my arse on the throne, with my knickers around my ankles and have a piss and a smoke; yes...he is a freak! At least this time he let me drop them down, sometimes he prefers if I don't. It's not as if I am being particularly sexy when I am drunkenly sitting there concentrating on both not falling over and my cigarette and trying to get the precious smoke into my lungs whilst emptying my overly full bladder that I have an ungracious loud fart! I blame that one on the garlic dough balls! We were drunk enough that at least we both giggled.

We then headed back downstairs and hugged and kissed on the sofa in our underwear. We could and should have gone to the bedroom! Thank God I set the timer on the heating before heading out. Brett totally forgot, again. At least it was then time for another cigarette, so I told him to go and make a cup of tea before bed for us both.

Even as I lit the cigarette, he ignored the command as he was too busy wanting to play with me. His fingers were going up and down my inner leg, yes, my thighs are larger than I would like and somewhat ivory in colour- Diary I need a sunny winter holiday! Anyway, I am not a fucking piano! So, upshot of it all was the cup of tea was delayed, but as I was sitting there with my legs wide apart smoking a cigarette wearing "his" sexy pink underwear- and as I had bothered to shave my pits and legs in the shower this morning as it was "date night"- so I thought it wise to let him carry on playing and fight all urges to bat him away. I guess Diary means he still thinks of his wife of 5 years as sexy.

I will also admit Diary he always somehow manages to turn me on, the touches, the kisses on my lips, breast, and nibbling of my skin. Then with his delightful grin the moment where I lifted my ass, and he started peeling the panties off me. All meant that we did have passionate sex on the sofa, don't worry Diary the curtains were drawn. Yes, I finished with my annoying coughing fit at the end, but I will also admit it was actually a nice way to end the "romantic" evening.

It was even better once I had climbed the stairs and was in bed as I am now between the sheets with, yet another rather delightfully lit Pall Mall securely locked between my lips. The post sex cigarette is a must. Good night x

5

th

October

I was very hungover on waking again this morning. Both my head and lungs really hated me. Why do I do this to myself? I don't know but anyway burr it's getting colder in the mornings and until the heating comes on, I wait for the whoomph of the boiler. I don't really want to get out from under the warm duvet even after my very much needed cigarettes, but my needs must. Today's plan was to go and see Mom and John. I am so lucky it's only a two-cigarette drive to Mom's, we are halfway between my mom's house and Brett's parents, nowhere near where we work either, but never mind.

After a rather late breakfast of plain toast and coffee- I must go shopping tomorrow for jam and milk. I left Brett in just his black Calvin Klein's boxers on the sofa, opening the first of his six-pack of Stella of the day, with his couple of packs of Marlboros; I even put my spare lighter on the arm rest for him as he couldn't find his. At least I got a passionate beer flavoured kiss and a firm grope of my breasts, and of course as I turned to leave him, a slap on the arse for my troubles. Yes, Diary later on, once I had returned from Mom's I found his lighter in his coat pocket...anyway I left him with the football about to start on his large TV. It looked like it would be Saturday night takeaway again this evening!

It shocks me every time I go over how much older Mom looks; she is still trying to make all the deliveries during the week. She still looks like my gorgeous Mom to me with her Virginia Slims steadfastly perched between her lips, but the hair is definitely greyer and the wrinkles almost cavernous. She should dye her hair a little and make it look fresher. She certainly isn't as spritely as she used to be. I know I couldn't go back to the Virginia Slims now; however stylish mom looks like with one. The Pall Malls give me what I need with every single hit. I can't hide twelve years of religiously smoking at least twenty, if not very many more of them a day has probably, okay Diary definitely, screwed my lungs up, but by God do I still enjoy and very much look forward to every single one of them.

I kindly offered Mom a Pall Mall as soon as she stubbed her Virginia Slim out, and if she had a tail, it would have wagged. Her eyes lit up and sparkled. "Seeing my daughter is as good an excuse as any for a filterless Pall Mall." She declared after her brief wet throat clearing cough- I think that one was definitely her lungs' anticipation for the pure smoke going down 😁 you should have seen the glow on her old face after lighting and inhaling deeply on it.

John was out at Squash, which was good; it's good he was still keeping fit! It meant Mom and I could have a good chat and a bit of smoke in peace. Her back is giving her grief and the arthritis in the elbow of her arm that she broke all those years ago is not fun, especially as the weather changes for the winter season. I would have thought with John there, she could at least retire and enjoy herself. I brought it up, yet I got waved away. I guess she enjoys the independence of getting out and into the car every day.

She also explains to me between several deep drags on the Pall Mall that it means that John doesn't have to pay for her pack a day habit. Which Diary we all know means two...

Mom's cough is a lot worse than mine, so not going to lie to you, Christ she sounds rough at the moment, guess just like me with winter on the way and various other colds; Think if memory serves me right last time she tried to cut down to what she told me was about five a day, however Diary I can guess using her smoker's calculator it means ten...but after a few weeks slowly crept back up again. That's Diary why I haven't even bothered trying. I can tell you know it is never going to work, I will shout it butt naked from the rooftops...I really do enjoy smoking far too much...BUT...

Diary I think Mom wants a grandchild as much as Brett wants us to have a child, as yet again she was checking on to see how we were both doing, grilling me on my current health status and how he was, I told her about our amazing date night last night and how things are so wonderful between us, and with a smile, a nod and wink suggested that yes we were definitely trying. That seemed to placate her for now.

I left out that whilst we enjoyed the coffee and cigarette, the fat slob at home was probably still sitting on the sofa in his boxers with a beer and his cigarettes rather than fixing the broken back door that I asked him weeks ago to fix, and that I will get home to him drunk and lechery with me sober. Yay! Yes, I did get home to more drunken sex and still very much broken back door. I will get to that in a bit.

So, caught up with Mom and her whole week, a good chat, as ever nothing much changes, but it's still good to have some mom time, show my face, prove I am looking after myself! She did have a night out on the tiles on Thursday with Francine. So, it was good to catch up with her. Apparently, it was quite hard for Mom, as Francine is desperately trying to quit smoking as her own Mom died of lung cancer last month. So, Mom had to take it slower with the cigarettes. Apparently, it put a dampener on the evening. But Francine still stole a couple of ciggies off Mom! Diary, I have never been told, or more likely never asked how Granny and Granddad and Papa and Nanna died; I just know that they all died when I was very young. I must remember to ask Mom one day.

Anyway, Diary I am not stupid it does quite clearly say on the side of the packs, smoking does hurt you. I know smoking will damage you and I am fully aware that the Big C is very much out there. Is it going to catch me? Like the grim reaper? I bloody well hope not, my lungs and I are certainly enjoying smoking cigarettes far too much! Guess I have to worry about Mom and her health well before me...maybe if I am somehow lucky in having a baby, I will definitely make me quit? I know I can't put a baby and their little lungs through what I am doing to mine...Can I...it didn't hurt me with my mom, did it?