Nicotine Re Ve And Intimacy

This fictionalized "based on a true story" story has been written with ReveSentationel. All characters are over 18.

Please enjoy the writing and Reve responsibly. Also give feedback. She loves and thrives off feedback.

Nicotine, Rêve, and Intimacy

Lying there, even before opening my eyes, I was already thinking about lighting a cigarette. So much so that I now can't think about anything else. Every morning it's literally my first thought as I slowly transition from being in my cozy dreamland and fast asleep to the rude sensation of being awake. I feel I may have even been dreaming of enjoying a cigarette before waking up. It just makes my desire for the taste of smoke on my tongue burn ever more intense.

At that moment I had only one ambition. As I try and fail to force open my sleep filled eyes, my hand is already reaching out to my bedside table. My fingertips feel around blindly hunting for my pack of cigarettes. My heart rate is increasing, with every hurdle. First my nails find my cool glass of water, the ting sound sends a shiver down my spine. I pause as I hope that I don't knock it over, then a second later my fingertips find my glasses, I don't want them on the floor either. Frustration is building, the anticipation of the sound of the lighter clicking is growing. The pack was definitely there last night. My fingers start sweeping, like a radar search, my fingers are walking further away from me. After finding my unread book, I can suddenly breathe again, there is that initial feeling of relief. The moment my fingers eventually touch the smooth surface of the cardboard pack, it's only then that I am ready to open my eyes fully. I know I can light my first cigarette of the day.

With daylight now reaching my retina, the monster headache predictably arrives like an express train right between the eyes, but at that moment who cares, I don't. I can't worry about it. I just have to focus on one thing at a time. That is to slide the cigarette out of the pack and bring it to my lips. That's all I care about. I need a cigarette. My heart starts thumping again with the unlit cigarette in position just to the left of my lips. There is a moment of pause as I focus on the lighter. The simple flick, and hot flame is far too bright in the darkly lit room. My eyes and headache certainly don't like it. Then there is just a wonderful feeling. An indescribable pleasure. I finally have smoke in my lungs. I immediately close my eyes as my chest rises, as my lungs pull in the delightful sensual smoke down my throat.

The thudding in my skull was so bad it made me feel nauseous. I distract myself as I focus just on the positive sensation of the cigarette between my lips, the taste and texture of the smooth smoke sliding down my throat and filling my chest up. So much so I instantly forget about the headache. At that moment it's really not important to me.

I gingerly sit up a little, wiggling myself backwards on my elbows, it's a precaution, just to make sure I wouldn't fall back asleep with the cigarette still in my hand. I have this very naughty habit of smoking my first cigarette of the morning with my eyes closed. Falling asleep again in a nicotine wave of relief is a serious possibility. I sit up straighter so I can savor every single bit of pleasure from the smoke of that first cigarette. I don't want to miss an inch of it.

I shift my body. I have to readjust the bed sheet to keep warm. It had fallen down. I realized once again that I hadn't bothered to get dressed for bed after undressing after last night. In fact, lying there I barely remembered the previous night at all. Most mornings there is a beer and vodka fueled blur about the previous evening.

As I pulled yet more smoke into my lungs, I hoped that the nicotine buzz would help my thoughts as I tried to recall it. But however much I think, I fail. It's just a hazy vodka mist. I was also just too busy savoring the delightful feeling of the nicotine flowing in my bloodstream. Genuinely feel it's the perfect way to start every day. The aim from there on in is to maintain it all day. This sensation was assisted to a higher level by the bedsheet softly brushing against my bare skin as I inhaled. I love the feeling of my nipples being tingled by the fabric as my chest rises. So much so I instantly started getting wet between my thighs. It genuinely doesn't take much for my libido to move through the gears. As I nearly finished my cigarette, I was already ready for round two.

I might not remember the whole night, but I get a flash back to the excitement as my fingers soon find that below my stomach, my bare moist mound along with the top of my thighs are still very sticky and damp. We definitely had finished the night properly.

Before I knew it my cigarette was practically burning my fingers meaning it was sadly finished. I shouldn't, but why not? I opened my eyes again just to see how many cigarettes were left in the pack before I'd have to get out of bed. Another wave of relief. I had a four, more than enough left to indulge myself in bed a little more. There was no rush to get up.

One thing I didn't want to do was open my eyes to be faced by reality. Playing housewife was not my strong point or my priority in life. The state of the bedroom reminded me of this every morning. The mess surrounded us like an emotional cage. The smell of the overflowing ashtrays, the bedside units covered in dust either side of the bed, the sight of a dozen empty beer cans, empty liquor bottles scattered, along with embarrassment of both our clothes strewn all over the floor. It was quite a scary sight. As with most of my real worries in life all I wanted to do was avoid them and sink back into my little smoky cloud and forget about it.

Before I did anything else, I first took some Advil with a sip of water. For my drunken mess I always keep a full bottle of water and Advil within easy reach. It's very practical when you're hungover continuously. It was not long until there was then another wave of relief it me as lit my second cigarette

It was then I was clearly wiggling around too much, my amazing man started to stir, the smell of the cigarette potentially waking him up. I call him Potato. When we first met, he behaved like a couch potato. Sitting and doing nothing. The name stuck. Sometimes he is my sweet potato and others when he wraps himself around me tightly, he is a jacket, on some occasions when he is truly annoying me he is mashed. But for everything he is my universally useful and loved Potato.

I soon found with my spare hand under the sheets that he too hadn't bothered to get dressed for bed. There was instant happiness as in his still sleepy state his cock began to stir in my fingers, I knew it was going to be an intense morning. With my hand still slowly but intently caressing his cock he turned over to snuggle up against me.

That first touch of his warm skin against mine made me delightfully shiver. His own hand starts traveling across my body looking for my breast. His fingers quickly latch on as they find my already erect nipples. I am emotionally and physically ready as I took another deeper drag on my cigarette. It was so hard that my cheek hollowed in. I just wanted more smoke and now importantly cock. I didn't even wait to fully exhale. I took another frantic drag. I was lost for a moment, almost unaware of his presence, consumed only by our mutual anticipation.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine, just enough to graze my skin, he was intent on stealing the smoke exhaled from my lungs as I tried to hold it in. It was as if everything around me disappeared. My body grew heavy, completely surrendering, as if I were melting into the mattress under his gaze and his touch. His arm slid around me, holding me firmly, as if he knew I was about to vanish below the waves of his presence. I love it when he takes my smoke, it gets me wet every time. I let him enjoy the calm and satisfaction for a moment. He moves his lips towards my slightly trembling fingers, knowing I won't resist. He moves my hand to his lips and he himself takes a long, slow, deep drag, never breaking eye contact, capturing every ounce of my submission in this moment.

The wisps of smoke gently escape his lips, I know he is holding the smoke in his lungs, it's meant for me. When he leans closer again, his lips barely graze mine. So close, yet never enough, leaving me craving more of him. I am addicted to this moment. Then, slowly, he blows the smoke back into my mouth. The sensation courses through me, intense and fluid, blending with the warmth of our bodies. As he finishes giving me back every inch of smoke from that drag, I can no longer resist him. I capture his lips between mine, gently biting his lower lip with a mix of desire and frustration. A silent reminder that he always leaves me wanting more.

With a grin on his sexy stubbly face, Potato wiggles himself free from my bight and slowly pulls away from my lips. It's not a tease, it's a practicality he is allowing me to bring the cigarette back to my mouth and inhale once more. But I had better ideas. Instead of just doing that, I bit down lightly on the cigarette to make sure it wouldn't fall out of my mouth. In one movement and a little push, and a grunt from Potato I was then sitting on top of him. With a bit of a positioning wiggle whilst frantically puffing on what was left of my cigarette. He was instantly hard, and we were off again for another wild round. Just him, me, my cigarettes, and the raw sensations, nothing else.

It took a little longer than my cigarette, but we were soon done. He was of course covered in my ashes. I didn't care, I didn't want to lose focus on his hard cock inside me to look for the ashtray. We were done, we'd collapse from exhaustion, neither of us having any stamina. Both of us were completely spent. Sleep would very quickly return.

We woke up again about three hours later, feeling even more wrecked and this time actually hungry. A cigarette was soon needed.

Conveniently we lived near a little diner, so we'd dragged ourselves out of bed, still half-asleep, with yet another lit cigarette already in our mouths. We slowly rummage through the heap of clothes on the floor, trying to figure out what was vaguely clean and what wasn't. Mostly it was all dirty. I am genuinely a useless housewife. Washing can be done another day. After getting dressed in our rather creased clothes whilst throwing a few playful insults at each other. I thrived off the tough love relationship, we'd head to the restaurant. Even walking the short distance, I smoked at least three cigarettes before we got there. The whole sitting and waiting whilst not smoking was a nightmare for me. I like to be able to freely smoke.

I always order the same thing. Two eggs, pancakes, fruit, bacon, beans, toast, and of course, a large coffee. He'd order almost the same, except he'd swap the pancakes for sausages. I may be boring with my food choices, but I like being creative. I also need a distraction.

If I was at home a cigarette would not be far away, I would always have one lit almost continually between my fingers. Sitting in the diner feels like my next one is several long painful hours away. To stop me thinking about it, I started playing around with the little creamers, utensils, and other knick-knacks on the table and those around us. By the time I finished our food, I had successfully made a large whole pyramid out of them. I was rather proud of my artistic creation. But I had a good laugh at the look of fear on the waitress's face when she came with the bill. I really couldn't hold back my laughter. Maybe I was still drunk. Between fits of giggles, I managed to apologize and explain that I just couldn't help myself. Potato was extremely embarrassed he wanted to slide down on the seat and hide himself under the table.

Feeling rather content and full in the stomach, the need to smoke was yet again at the forefront of my head. After paying the bill, we headed outside. I had my cigarette between my lips and my lighter in my hand with my thumb primed before we had gone through the door. It was another wave of relief as it was where I could finally light up another cigarette.

Sitting there in the no smoking environment was genuine torture, even if the food and company was nice. I am smoking so freely at the moment. Stopping, however briefly, is painful hard work. We make a slight detour to the convenience store to pick up yet more cigarettes and importantly some beer. I do not want to run out of either of them.

That is an unthinkable situation.

From the diner to our apartment, including the stop at the store, I again smoked about three cigarettes. I really do like to smoke. The hour or so in the diner was just too long without a cigarette.

Back at the apartment, Potato and I naturally separated to do our own thing. After our passionate morning sex and lunch together we naturally both needed our own space. Potato headed to the computer, and I'd put on some songs on my phone and mess around with games on it. As with most days we spend the entire afternoon doing our own thing. And of course, I am drinking beer and smoking continuously. Literally the longest I could go between cigarettes was maybe thirty minutes, and that was only if I was in the shower and having to shave my legs and pubic parts. I really do hate having hair down there.

Being comfortable in my own space and having a couple of beers in me I often get hot. Today is no different. I am hyper-focused on my game but at the same time getting hotter and hotter. I just have to strip off. An hour later I am sitting in just my panties, with my cigarette hanging out of my mouth. I am so intent on my game I can't even count how many ashes from my cigarette probably ended up on my lap or the floor or the sofa because I was too focused on not dying in the game. Like smoking, I am very focused on whatever I am doing.

For an unknown reason, my sweet Potato would get distracted from playing on his computer and come join me when I am naked on the sofa. I really don't know why he would play so badly at the game. I have to put it down to the fact that he was affectionately stroking my bare legs getting higher and higher. Partially trying to distract me and make me do badly too. Without saying anything I could feel his impatience for more sex. But I love torturing him. In both ways I was playing my game. Putting him off being inside me for as long as possible. I can do tough love too.

My thoughts and plans are again all distracted by an old friend of Potato. He texted, asking if he could drop by. With a brief discussion with Potato, I am fine with it. I am teasing Potato with sex anyway. After my last bathroom break, my panties had "accidentally fallen" off.

Unfortunately, this time however much I could straddle him there and then, we have to push our next round of intimacy back a bit. With the friend coming over we agree on one condition. Potato asked him to grab food from a takeaway restaurant on his way over, and meanwhile, I sent Potato out to the corner store to get some more drinks.

While Potato was at the store, I slipped into a comfy dress for a bit of decency. Even quite so tipsy I don't want our friend to see me naked and briefly tidied up a bit. I tried a bit. Cleaning after a few beers is very difficult. It would have been even more impossible to actually clean everything up in such a short time. Some of my dropped cigarette butts and of course my discarded bra and panties got picked up, the latter thrown with the others on the bedroom floor. The friend would definitely not be going in there.

The friend shows up with takeout food, Potato has gone and got two bottles of liquor, a Pepsi, and a 7-Up.

After drinking and eating quite a bit it was then that the two men started messing around and laughing. A masculine "pissing contest" but with food condiments. At least I could join in. We got to the point where most of the beers and food had been eaten but we were having fun squirting ketchup, mayo, and mustard at each other.

It didn't take long as we were very drunk to be very sticky all over. Eventually, our silly mood faded, and we cleaned ourselves up a bit. Only a bit. However, we didn't clean the floor or the walls. That was for another day.

I am having fun drinking and smoking. After the beers the vodka and lemonade along with my cigarettes are going down far too well. Every time the friend went to the bathroom, Potato and I would have fun teasing each other. I was in that happy place. Everything felt right.

It didn't take long for Potato to find out that under my dress that when I was very quickly getting dressed, I hadn't bothered to put on any underwear. Especially as when our friend wasn't looking, I would take Potatoes hand and place his fingers against my hot and tingling crotch. I would squeal as his ice cooled finger slid between my hot wet lips. I was teasing him and myself something rotten. It was so much fun building up the tension. When our drinks were empty, I was giggly drunk so when leaning over as I topped up our drinks, I would also give Potato a flash of my chest here and there.

Eventually, all three of us ended up in front of the computer playing old games on an emulator. We were very drunk and were struggling to play super difficult games. We set ourselves the challenge to see who could get the furthest. I knew the game; it should have given me an advantage. But it was still very difficult after drinking beer all afternoon and having our blood stream topped up with copious amounts of hard liquor. With me sitting cross-legged on the chair I was giving Potato a good view up the hem of my dress the whole time. I could see in his eyes he was getting antsy for me. Cigarettes, alcohol and the threat of imminent sex. It was bliss. Potato couldn't look directly into my eyes for very long. For a while our friend didn't realize our "other" game we were playing together.

That was until the friend eventually visited the bathroom, and I just couldn't hold back anymore. All my emotions had gotten to me. I had my cigarette in my mouth, and it was Potato's turn to play the game. I was drunk and horny enough to want his hard attention between my legs not on the screen. I pulled the office chair back, lifted up my dress and opened his pants, and climbed right on top of him.

I was too drunk and beyond caring about the situation. Leaning against the table panting and moaning. As within seconds he was deep inside me as I gyrated against him and dragged on my cigarette. Trying to fill myself from above and below.

Unfortunately, I spent too long getting inside his pants. We were not quick enough with our 'quickie'. Our friend came back carrying a fresh drink for us all. I've never seen him look so embarrassed. I didn't care, I was just too horny and drunk.

I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt and I was hacking a cough. Between fits of laughter, I managed to apologize to him and get decent once again. I just couldn't help myself. For the second time that day Potato was completely mortified and wanted to hide under the table.

The gaming session ended right there because I couldn't behave. I was giggling too much and was in danger of flashing my naked ass around the place. As my focus had changed. My lungs were happy, my stomach was full, all I wanted now was my Potatoes cock back where it belonged, deep within my vagina.

Our friend soon crashed on the couch. Too drunk to try and get home. I at least managed to find him a blanket. Potato and I staggered to the bedroom still giggling. It didn't take long before I was naked and in bed. I lit another cigarette and had one focus. I was in a state of certainly not caring about how much noise I was going to make.