Cigar Ash In His Stocking

It didn't get much worse than having your spouse start smoking, to get on the naughty list. And so he was, with cigars, this year. It started off as a new year's thing, where she decided to be adventurous and finally humor him, because you tried new stuff in the new year! He'd been out a lot and smoked cigars with his friends, and she always sort of disapproved and was curious at the same time, along with a lot of her own friends. But everyone else was smoking cigars at the party, at a big mansion, and indoors, too, so it was nice and warm. They were high quality cigars, so it was a thing where, if you were ever going to try, how was the time. And the cigar bands even were lovely, and there were fancy lighters and cedar strips and so forth, and she actually had a couple, a small one at first, and then a larger one, which she barely finished before it was time to go.

But that was it, right? She couldn't afford to get hooked, after all. She heard horror stories about that. Throughout that year, she and her husband had sort of walked into humidors and she said, well, I'm not ready yet, I'm still worried about it, and despite the cigar sales and the reassurance, well, she had reason to believe they were a bit biased.

Still, ending one year with a cigar and starting the new one with another could be a nice tradition! And with a load of selfies and pictures with friends, she cherished her memories of trying something new. Well, for a month. Then came the big snow-in. They remembered the last one, where they had gotten the bit too drunk and upset with themselves and stir-crazy, and they didn't want that to happen again, but they still wanted, well, stimulation. That box of cigars was there, and he hadn't been out as much with his friends as he hoped, and of course this week he wouldn't be at all, and that meant extra spares to smoke for a special occasion. Perhaps this would qualify?

She knew how important it was for him to dress decently when he smoked, so she felt bad about it, that she wasn't really wearing anything special either, and she didn't quite have the energy to get dolled up. But he said, that's OK, we can just enjoy our cigars, and how nice it is, and maybe remember the New Year's, too, and how fun it was. And they did, and the night was wonderful, and he performed for her, and she performed for him.

She hoped she wasn't addicted, but she found herself far more open to cigars, the smell and look, and watching people, and even discussing, well, she'd like to smoke them more, but you know with her job and so forth, she didn't have the time. Eventually, she wound up talking herself into it, and they were just favorite classy clothes that she wanted to say, I smoked a cigar in this, and I looked good. And she did, more and more often. Went out with friends, some joked about, and they also notice, you're not drinking as much as you used to, what's up with that? And she realized she didn't need it so much.

The summer was a whirlwind of going new places and having a cigar, whether indoors or outdoors. You met new people that way, people ready for new chances and choices, also people not thinking that their blather was clever just because they were drunk. The old high-end places, though, got a bit tiresome and, of course, they wanted to budget somewhat, and they had been going out to smoke cigars more. It wasn't going to leave them bankrupt, but they needed to change something.

So they found cheaper but still safe clubs to go to. One of the unexpected surprises was a punk bar with a monthly cigar night, where there was a huge comfortable smoking area. The first month they sat in the corner, taking it all in. The next--they were glad it was only 22 days away, third Wednesday of the month. All kinds of people were there, from very corporate to far more wild, and they watched as lesbian and gay couples shared their cigars, lighting each other up, and even a few transvestites as well. Two, she overheard, talking about wearing but plugs and chastity cages while they smoked. She was curious, and asked them what that was about, and they explained that it made them feel they didn't have to do anything masculine to take pleasure, just have several things to enjoy, and not be ensnared by guy stuff. She was surprised that the girl talk that ensued, so to speak, not the real stuff, but certainly quite fun, from males who didn't want to be fully feminine.

There was more of a shock, when she saw one couple in leather. One would kneel and light their lover's cigar and occasionally be offered a puff--or they would smoke a smaller cigar, to show who was boss and "deserved" more. She apologized for staring, but they said they wanted to be watched, and then later she stared even further. The kneeling submissive opened their mouth, the dominant tapped their cigar, and in the ash went. She gasped.

"We can move away if you like."

"No. No. Not at all. Please continue. Does it... taste bad?"

"Not if you're used to it. Or if you want to do things for someone."

That moment stayed with her, though she couldn't let her husband know, or find the right time.

Over Thanksgiving they first were upset they couldn't smoke cigars after a good family meal (meal good, family conversation bad--both reasons to unwind) and made it up by smoking so many cigars they got a bit sick. Then there was so much end of year stuff at work, they had no time. Until the half-day on Christmas Eve. She told him she was under the weather from all the work she had to do, and could he please come home without delay. "You've forgotten something that needs to be addressed."

Of course you could. But when he was there, she was waiting for him in a Santa outfit, with boots, and a huge cigar waiting to be lit. "I'm not really that sick. Just still disappointed in you, honey, for getting me started smoking, and all the lovely time wasted puffing away. I'm sure it's quite bad for me. I'm thinking instead of a present you should have something taken away."

He knew something was up. "Like what?"

"That crystal ashtray. Do you remember that couple we saw, where one used the other as an ashtray? You said, well, maybe if you were in the right mood, maybe sometime down the line, you might find it interesting, if the mood was right. Maybe you were just being polite. But it's been a few months now, so you've had time to think. What do you say?"

"I -- I don't know."

"It would relieve my stress greatly. Yes, you have stress too. We'll worry about that later. Would you be willing to try? The same way I tried cigars a year ago?"

He nodded, all right.

"Go get a glass of water to wash the ash down, just in case. Wine for me and my cigar of course. And crawl."

He came back and poured the wine and lit her up. "I'm bored," she said, "smoking gets repetitive after a while. I need a bit of extra stimulation, and you maybe need a little practice about tasting stuff before the ash goes in your mouth. Maybe you should start by licking those boots. I don't think we have a lot of small talk to say right now, and I wouldn't want there to be awkward silence. You can flatter me a bit while kissing my boots. Mix it up. Give variety."

And so it began. It was a good cigar, so the ash didn't break off immediately. His tongue soon went to the other boot, up and down. He kissed and sucked the heel, as he remembered people doing at the punk bar. She taunted him to apologize as she moaned delightedly with each puff.

Soon the ash got bent. It was time.

"Stop your silly flattery, sweetie, time for action." She tapped the cigar. In the ash went. He coughed and gagged a bit. "Try it without water, sweetie, to show you care. See what you can take." And he did.

The next pieces of ash were a bit shorter, but then again, he didn't have to wait as long. Hooray, quantity. She tapped the ash on the boot, too, to give him some more variety, because you didn't want him to get bored or anything, either. He thanked her. He assured her he liked both tastes alone and combined. Was there anything else?

Of course. She took off her boots, so he had the pleasure of tasting feet and ash together as well. But it was a big cigar, and she didn't want his mind to wander before it was finished.

So it was clearly time to go down on her and experience her juices mixed with ash.

After that her cigar had gotten too harsh. She put it down. He was sad the last bit couldn't make a full ash, but the bitter taste would bother her, so he would not get one more meal out of it... well, unless he flicked his finger over the cigar once it had gone out and cooled down.

They had to wait for that. A bout of love making would tide them over. He found the cold ash delicious.

The rest of the year was a bit of a blur, in terms of doing places. They each had a vacation week lined up, and they spent it going to unusually expensive places come to make up for the time they missed. She wouldn't drop ash in his hand under the table, and he would spend a lot of time maybe having to cough, or search pretending to gasp and cover his mouth at a joke. She was even kind enough to take his cigar, tap it in his hand, and let him consume that, to strengthen their bond as smokers. If waiters suspected anything from the empty ashtrays, they said nothing.

She had obviously gotten the ball started on him trying new and different things. She remembered other things at the punk bar that people they were a bit worried at first to try but wound up enjoying. She'd made a mental list. She wanted to give back, for all the times he had given her for smoking cigars but of course she couldn't just give him more cigars. That would be unoriginal. He had enjoyed watching her smoke cigars, opened up a new world to her, and she wanted to share new enjoyment back. Being a couple was about exploring, after all, and pushing each other the right way.

It was going to be an exciting year.