Harriet Learns To Smoke And Fuck Ch 10

Chapter Ten:

Cum in Perspective

Harriet arrived home lovingly clutching her carton of Marlboro "red" 100s close to her chest. "Oh Hattie," exclaimed her mother as Harriet walked through the front door, "come and say hello to Mr and Mrs Jones -- you remember, from the Highgate BDSM Club?" Mr and Mrs Jones were among the Danes family's closest friends, and frequently dropped by for a fuck -- though that never stopped Genevieve Danes from enthusiastically re-introducing them to her daughter every time they met.

"Lick my pussy, Mrs Jones," Harriet smiled dutifully at their guest, who, like her mother, was wearing a large purple strapon so that the two of them could proceed with spit-roasting a pale portly gentleman kneeling on the living carpet. "Oh and, m' pussy, Mr Jones, I didn't recognise you for a second," she giggled.

Mrs Jones maintained her vigorous fucking of her husband's face as she ventured enthusiastically, "Your mother tells me you're getting married -- how exciting!"

"Oh Mother, have you told everyone already?" Harriet grimaced.

"And why shouldn't I, cuntling?" Genevieve paused, her dildo deep in Mr Jones' ass. "Your Daddy and I are very proud of you -- aren't we, Henry?" Mr Danes was curled up on the floor watching, panting and drooling at the mouth as he stroked his cock, but he obediently whimpered his agreement.

"And when do we get to meet your fiancé? What's he like? Is he handsome? Does he have a big dick? And what does he do for a living? I gather he's moved in with you?" The questions tumbled from Mrs Jones's mouth, even as her husband gagged and dry-heaved noisily before her.

"Oh, he's an artist, Mrs Jones, and works in a gallery. And yes, he has a very big dick. But after work today I think he's going to his mother's to pick up some of his things, so he probably won't be home till late..."

*

Indeed, at that very moment Michael was standing in his mother's living room receiving a dressing-down. "Engaged?!" screeched Mrs Didcock. "Engaged -- to that

cunt

?"

"Oh, Mother, please don't speak about her like that," mumbled Michael.

"I'm not speaking

about her

like anything, dickhead," remonstrated his mother. Ribena and half-chewed Hula Hoops were smeared down her corpulent nude figure as she lay on her sofa, gesticulating at her son with her slimy dildo. "I'm talking about you! How can a hot rich slut like her want to get married to such a hopeless, ugly, impotent drop-out?" Mrs Didcock had put her television on mute, but the moving pictures indicated an ongoing lesbian squirt-bukkake, with a diminutive brunette writhing on the floor, mouth open and tongue out, surrounded by a dozen or so other girls rubbing their cunts hard over her. "She's not going to stick with you, boy -- and no fucking wonder!" continued Mrs Didcock. "OK, she'll fuck you when you want it, for a while anyway; but then she'll find another stud who's more on her level -- financially, intellectually, and sexually -- I mean, with a proper big cock! And how the fuck are you going to survive anyway? You've got no fucking money!"

"Mum, I've saved up over the years: I've got twenty thousand in the bank already!" Mrs Didcock snorted derisively. "And, I know you won't believe me, but God has healed my cock: I've got a big cock now, and Harriet likes fucking me!"

"Well, I don't fucking believe you! Go on, show me your 'big cock' then, Jesus-freak, let me see it!"

Michael paused awkwardly. On the television, the first few squirts were beginning to issue from the standing girls' cunts, and the brunette on the floor was wriggling in pleasure as jets of clear girl-cum rained on her face and tits. But Michael muttered under his breath, "I can't show you my big cock here..."

"And why the fuck not, dickhead -- except that you don't anything to show?"

"No, no, Mother..." Michael's face revealed his torment. "It doesn't work here. Here, in this house, with you around, nothing about me works right. But away from you, with Harriet, everything is better. You make me feel small, you make me small. But she makes me feel... different..."

"BULL-FUCKING-SHIT!" screamed Mrs Didcock. "You trying to blame me for all your problems? That's just what your failure of a dad did." Michael's mother put on an imitation of a whining male voice: "'Why are you speaking to me like that, dear? Why are you being so horrible? You know how much I love you, darling...' Well, he said all those things, but he fucking left me, didn't he? And now you're doing the same, you pathetic, stupid, impotent, ugly, treacherous excuse of a son!"

Michael did not try to respond, but backed slowly out of the living room and began to shut the door. "DON'T YOU FUCKING WALK OUT ON ME, MICHAEL DIDCOCK! YOU'LL FUCKING REGRET IT!!" screeched his mother after him, as he shuffled down the corridor to his room to gather up some belongings.

A minute later, he emerged clutching a large flat rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Oh yeah, squirt your fucking cum all over my slut face!

came the noise of Mrs Didcock's resumed soundtrack through the living room door, as he walked back down the corridor towards the front door.

Drown me in your fucking girl-cum, I wanna --

Michael wavered briefly on the threshold, before setting his jaw and shutting the front door firmly behind him.

*

"So when's the happy day, then?" continued Mrs Jones, as she and Genevieve Danes swapped places, so that Genevieve could feed her asshole-flavoured strapon into Mr Jones' face.

"Oh, we hope in the summer, Mrs Jones. I'm applying the the Royal Academy of Fucking for the autumn, and I've got a smoking competition in June, and Michael will be spending the next year doing missionary work abroad for our church. So we thought we'd get married before we spend our year apart: it'll be even more special for us when he comes back the following summer!"

Mrs Jones was now ramming her strapon into her husband's asshole deep and hard, and Mr Jones was groaning with pleasure at each new thrust while drooling ecstatically over Genevieve's dildo. Henry Danes, whimpering with joy, continued to watch from the corner, jerking his cock contentedly. "I... think... you are... very wise," Mrs Jones continued to advise Harriet, between violent thrusts of her pelvis. "Good to... spend some time apart... when you are... first married, so you get used to... fucking around... as much as... you can... You don't want to... drift into the habit of... monogamy... or sexual fidelity... or anything dodgy... like that... That can... ruin many an... otherwise promising... marriage -- don't you think... Gen?"

"I agree entirely," replied Harriet's mother. Thankfully, though, she sensed Harriet's well-concealed impatience with Mrs Jones' questioning, and added, "Don't you have some smoking prep to do, Hattie?"

"Oh yes, Mum, I'll go and do that now," grinned Harriet gratefully, as she turned swiftly on her heels and dashed up the stairs.

As she made her way toward her room, she heard a few more scraps of the ladies' continuing conversation from downstairs, as they changed positions yet again: "Smoking fetish -- really? How exciting! I had a great-aunt who died of emphysema when I was young. Is Harriet planning on doing that too -- or does she prefer lung cancer? Oh, does that not happen these days? How times have changed..." -- before that too was drowned out by the sound of both husbands noisily groaning as they climaxed. "Oh yes, all over my face, both of you..." trilled Mrs Jones, as Harriet shut her bedroom door.

Harriet sat at her dressing table admiring her carton of Marlboro "red" 100s. Removing one packet and carefully unwrapping it, she took out a cigarette, twirled it between her fingers, and sniffed it.

It's probably my imagination

, she thought,

but it smells richer -- and it feels... "heavier" than a "light"... Weird. Well, let's give it a go!

Harriet fully expected her first full-strength cigarette to feel rougher, harsher on her throat. But as she took her first inhale, all her expectations were overturned: instead the smoke felt darker, thicker, smoother, less chemical, more natural. It was like tasting a full-blooded fruity Zinfandel, rather than a dry light Sauvignon Blanc; like 85% dark chocolate, instead of the pale milk variety; like a lovely slab of roast belly pork dripping with juices, rather than a virtuous but otherwise tasteless dish of tofu; like a --

oh fuck, it's like taking a huge creamy bukkake from a bunch of huge dicks all over my fucking face, rather than just one weeny little squirt!

Already she felt herself taking shallower drags than she was used to, but noticed the satisfaction effortlessly multiply within her. "Oh fuck, this is wonderful!" she muttered, admiring the sight in her mirror as she released a battery of thick puffs of smoke into the air in front of her.

OK, now let's try some of those tricks!

Harriet instructed herself. First she tried to do one of Taylor's snap inhales -- but failed miserably. All she managed was to produce was a rather unremarkable cloudy exhale -- no sign of the beautiful swirling ball of smoke the Australian blonde seemed to manage to produce so effortlessly.

Shit.

After a couple of tries she realised that it wouldn't work with smoke from her lungs: she mustn't inhale first. So she tried holding some smoke in her mouth and then blowing it out, but this just produced shapeless puffs of smoke -- and deprived her of any nicotine satisfaction.

Fuck.

OK, maybe I'll try to blow some rings: for those I know you need to inhale first...

But every attempt Harriet made just resulted in her exhaling shapeless clouds of smoke: there was no hint of rings, or even balls of smoke. Fuck. Harriet was getting frustrated, and discouraged.

Jesus, this is like learning to smoke all over again. What the fuck?

"Harriet, dinner!"

FUCK!

*

Michael was walking through the front door just as Harriet came down the stairs. "Mikey!" she grinned -- but could see immediately from his expression that his home visit had not gone well. "Was she a bitch?" she asked sympathetically.

"Well, no more than normal," affirmed Michael. "But look what I got from my room!" He held up his flat rectangular parcel.

"Oh -- one of your paintings?" asked Harriet.

"Not just any," Michael smiled, as he unwrapped it. "My favourite painting of the most beautiful smoking slut in the world!"

"Oh Mikey, you shouldn't have! Surely you had more important things to bring back! I thought you were going to collect some clothes and stuff?"

Michael gazed into his fiancée's face. "Harriet, you are the most important thing to me. You pleasure me more than life itself. And I wanted this picture, to remind us of the day we met."

Tears welled in Harriet's eyes, before she threw her arms around her fiancé and kissed him passionately on the lips. Soon their tongues were tangling, and they might have fucked right then and there, but for Genevieve marching into the hallway to announce dinner and squealing with delight at the sight of the painting. "Oh look, Henry! Michael's done a painting of Hattie smoking. Doesn't she look fuckable!"

*

"OK, Hat, show me what the problem is," said Michael, as they sat, both naked from the waist down, on the living room sofa after dinner. The meal had been Genevieve's signature

boeuf bourgignon

, which Henry had gobbled, morsel by morsel, out of his wife's cunt -- though Harriet and Michael had preferred, like Genevieve, to use cutlery and crockery. The grown-ups had stayed in the kitchen for dessert (home-made nougat ice-cream which, Genevieve judged and Henry agreed, would taste even better farted out of her asshole directly into her husband's face) -- but Harriet was keen to resume working on her smoking tricks, with Michael's help this time. Together they re-watched the video of Taylor doing her snaps and rings, replaying sections on repeat, to try to work out how she did it, as Harriet smoked cigarette after cigarette. But the quality was grainy, especially in slow motion, and -- "Fuck it, Mikey, all her technique is hidden inside, in her throat or the back of her mouth: I can't tell what she's doing! How the fuck does she get the smoke to do all that amazing shit? Look, all I get is these shapeless fucking clouds of smoke!" They watched several other clips from the same series for help, but the other girls featured -- Gabi, Jasmine, Katie, Maddie, Tash -- were just as deft with their smoking technique, making the "fucking impossible", as Harriet deemed it, look effortless and natural. By comparison, Harriet's efforts, even with the rich thick smoke from her new "reds", were abject failures, resulting in nothing more than an ashtray full to overflowing with cigarette butts, and a great deal of frustration.

"I am such a fucking failure!" whined Harriet, as anguish and barely held-back tears contorted her features, making it even harder for her to concentrate on her efforts. "I think I should just give up, tell Miss Poussée I not gonna fucking do this..."

But Michael held his fiancée tight in his arms, tenderly kissing her acrid smoky face and hair, and wisely saying nothing which could elicit any further rage. Instead he crooned, "Harriet, you're the most beautiful, sexiest, smoking slut the word has ever known. Get things in perspective: come, let's pleasure each other now, and we can worry about this tomorrow..."

And so they did. Harriet smoked one of her reds sitting on the sofa, inhaling deep as Michael knelt with his face in her crotch, revelling in the double pleasuring she was receiving: thick clouds of smoke tickling and stroking her lungs from inside, caressing their way in and out, enveloping her in the rich generous stink of full-strength tobacco; while Michael's tongue snaked in and out of her cunt, sending darts of pleasure up and down her body. "Oh God, Mikey, thank you. You always know how to make me feel better. Now let me do the same for you..."

As Harriet and Michael switched places on the sofa, and Harriet chain-lit a new cigarette, Henry and Genevieve, having finished their dessert, peeped into the living room through a crack in the kitchen door. Genevieve beamed with pride, whispering to her husband, "Oh look, Henry! Hasn't our daughter turned out well? What a marvellous ornament she is to our household!" And Henry, crawling at her feet, nodded his enthusiastic agreement.

Now Harriet was kneeling in front of Michael, performing her by-now perfectly honed smokey blowjob routine: great fulsome lungfuls exhaled over her fiancé's thick cock, sometimes through pursed lips, sometimes through her nostrils as she sucked his shaft deep into her cheeks; and sometimes resting there, steaming and swirling in her open mouth while Michael fucked the smoke out with his throbbing dick. Michael moaned with pleasure, looking down with unannounced adoration into his smoking lover's beauteous features -- and Genevieve took advantage of the moment to whisper to her husband, "My cunt, Henry, eat my cunt while we watch..."

And so Henry crouched beneath his wife as she lowered her wet cunt onto his face, grinding her clit against his nose and jaw while his tongue slobbered happily in and out of her fuck-depths. Now Michael was fucking Harriet doggy-style as she blew great lungfuls smoke up and away before her, so that the whole living room was filled with glorious, exuberant clouds of warm smoke. "Oh look, Henry -- how beautiful is that!" exclaimed Genevieve in a whisper. Henry's face was too deeply embedded in his wife's crotch to allow him watch anything going on on the sofa -- but he didn't mind, happily stroking his cock as his face, nay, his world, filled with the fragrance and savour of his wife's hot cunt.

Harriet chain-lit another red and lay on her back, smoking with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other, as Michael pounded his cock into her gaping pink flesh and she exhaled thick stinking clouds of smoke into his happy face. "Mikey, renew our engagement for me!" she giggled -- and Michael knew what she meant, sliding his cock out of her cunt, lifting her buttocks slightly upwards onto a scatter cushion, and bending down to probe her tight brown hole with his tongue, then one finger, then two. Harriet did her special trick again, bending her legs backwards so that they crossed behind her head, leaving her ass stretched high and wide, the puckered brown hole at its centre winking and gaping seductively, inviting her fiancé in. Michael moaned with admiration and desire, gently teasing Harriet's shit-rim with his throbbing cockhead, before Harriet crooned: "Now, Mikey, now."

As Michael thick cock squeezed its way into Harriet's anal depths, Genevieve beamed with maternal delight. "Oh look, Henry, he's fucking her arse! How sweet is that? Remember when I first fucked your arse, Henry? That's how I knew you were the man for me!" Henry mumbled his agreement, but did not emerge from between his wife's thighs, instead slobbering even wider and more generously, his tongue sweeping back and forth from clit to cunt to perineum to asshole and then back again, revelling in the heavenly spectrum of his wife's fuck-juices, and jerking his cock even faster.

"I'm going to come!" whispered Genevieve to Henry -- and Harriet whimpered the same to Michael through a deep double drag of smoke, so that a battery of thick smoky puffs shot up into Michael's face. Michael pulled his cock out, leaving a gently gaping asshole in his wake, and shifted upwards, letting Harriet pound her clit with her hand while he coaxed his load of cum up his shaft towards her beautiful face.

"Oh yeah, all over me and my cigarette!" squealed Harriet, as spurt after spurt of hot asshole-flavoured man-cum shot through the air, landing in thick streaks up and down her face and hair, on her cheeks, on her lips, into her smoky mouth, as well as on the knuckles of her cigarette hand, and of course on the cigarette itself. The burning end sputtered briefly, apparently dowsed by a glob of cum -- but Harriet sucked hard and deep, rekindling the embers so that a huge lungful of ass-and-cum-seasoned smoke burnt its way down her greedy throat. "Oh yeah, fuck my lungs with your cum, Mikey -- that's so good!" she screeched, just as, still unnoticed by her, Genevieve's cunt spasmed into Henry's face and he, still crouched below her pounding his own cock, emptied his balls across the tiled kitchen floor. "More cum, more cum, oh yeah fuck I wanna taste that smoky shithole cum!" Harriet continued to wail, as she licked maniacally up and down the barrel of what remaining of her cigarette, savouring the cum-taste on her lips and tongue as she continued to inhale smoke deep into her semen-fucked lungs.

Genevieve smiled with pride and contentment, silently shutting the door to the living room as Henry slurped his own cum off the floor. And Harriet, cum-faced and wreathed in smoke, released a gentle fart and grinned up at her trusty fiancé. "You know how to put things into perspective, don't you, Mikey?" she giggled, as she licked semen off her fingers and stubbed out her damp cummy cigarette butt in her overflowing ashtray.

"It's easy to see things in perspective when I'm with you, Harriet," replied Michael. And he meant it in more ways than one, adding, "Can I draw your asshole now?"

To be continued...