My relationship with Gaby had lasted for about for six months when we were vacationing in my aunt's holiday home on the Baltic Coast in North Germany. Gaby was (and is) a very beautiful young woman who grew up with her Ghanaian extended family in the district of Wedding in Berlin. She wears her long, black hair in dozens of thin Afro braids that perfectly frame her well-proportioned face. She studies English and sports at Berlin's Humboldt UniversitΓ€t, is tall, smart and quick-witted, has a seducing smile and, unfortunately, usually beat me at ping-pong.
Well above my level in almost all areas.
My aunt's small house dates back to Communist East Germany, self-built and more of a shack than a house, but it's right on the beach with a breathtaking view of the seemingly endless Baltic Sea.
There is a ping-pong table in the shed next to the house. In the evenings, when it was not so hot, we played in the garden. Gaby's bare feet danced across the close-cropped lawn at lightning speed as she relentlessly fought for each ball and usually won it.
"Should we play for a prize?" Gaby asked one Sunday evening.
"A prize? What do you mean?"
"You know, I'll pick something you have to do if I win. And the other way around."
"You'd like that. You keep winning all the time."
"You won yesterday."
"Once!"
"I already know what I want for a prize."
"I'm sure you do."
"You're going to take me to a sushi restaurant."
"I hate raw fish."
"How do you even know? You've never eaten sushi!"
"TouchΓ©! And I get to choose what you have to do if I win?"
"Exactly!"
I already knew what I wanted. My dick went rock hard at the thought.
"OK. If I win, I need you to... smoke a... cigarette."
She protested:
"That's unfair. Cigarettes are gross."
"Just like sushi."
"That's not the same. Fish is healthy. Cigarettes cause cancer."
"A single cigarette won't."
"Probably not. But you need to choose something else. I'm not doing it. I hate smoking."
"Exactly my opinion on sushi. Do you want to skip the prize?"
"You know how I hate cigarette smoke."
"You have a very sensitive non-smoker nose. You also complained that the house smelled of cigarettes because my aunt smokes here from time to time."
"She smokes indoors! Nobody does that. Only in old films from the 90s."
"Perhaps you would be more tolerant if you smoked yourself."
"You think I'm intolerant?"
"You always complain when someone smokes around you."
"Because it's so gross. Why are we even discussing this? Why do you want me to smoke?"
"I want to see what you look like with a cigarette."
"I can tell you. I'll look stupid because I'm not a smoker."
"I think you'll look very nice when you smoke a cigarette."
"If I lose, I have to smoke one cigarette? Only one?"
"Yes. But you have to smoke it all the way to the filter."
"Okay. I'm gonna win anyway."
"Probably."
We shook hands and went to the ping-pong table in the garden, where Gaby tied her braids together with a rubber band.
Very predictably she took the first set 11-7, but despite the appealing sight of her large, dangling tits with nipples protruding under her increasingly sweaty and see-through T-shirt, I managed to focus on the match. In the second set I trailed her up to 10-10. Then, miraculously, I was able to win the next two balls. The third set would decide whether I was going to eat disgusting raw fish or experience my girlfriend as a sexy smoker.
The defeat in the second set had apparently shaken her. It dawned on her that she might lose, and she was getting more and more nervous. Her smashes, otherwise feared, hit the net and I happened to win the third set 14-12.
"I think it's time for your cigarette break," I grinned triumphantly and placed my bat on the table.
"You want me to do it right now? Too bad we don't have any cigarettes."
"Oh, luckily we do. My aunt keeps them in her kitchen drawer. I want to see you smoke right now."
She nodded bravely and I went to pick up a pack of Camel Blue and a lighter from the drawer.
"Yeah. Let's get it over with," Gaby said resolutely as she picked out one of the last three cigarettes from the pack. She tested it between two fingers and put it between her lips. I quickly grabbed the lighter and held the flame to the cigarette. She immediately started coughing, emitting a tiny puff of smoke. But it was promising.
I waited patiently for her second drag.
This time, she took in a little more smoke and managed this without coughing. The smoke came out immediately. She wasn't inhaling. As was to be expected from a beginner.
"Well, how do you like me as a smoker?" Gaby asked with a weary smile, waving the smoke away from her face with her hand.
"It suits you!"
"It does? I feel so stupid doing this."
"And how does it taste?"
"Disgusting! Bitter and chemical. This is really not for me. Will you get me a glass of water, please? If I'm going to do this, I need something to drink."
I got her a glass of water, which she drained eagerly. She went to the window and looked at her reflection while puffing on the cigarette again.
"I look like a 12-year-old who smokes secretly behind the school."
"You look very beautiful and elegant when you smoke, but you might try inhaling. So far you've just put the smoke in your mouth and blown it out."
"Isn't that what smokers do?"
"No. Real smokers fill their lungs with smoke, enjoy it there for a few seconds, and then blow it out."
"See! I'm simply not a real smoker."
"No. Not yet."
"And I won't become one either. This is my first and last cigarette," she claimed.
"Okay. But you lost two sets to one, and we agreed that you smoke that one cigarette. Down to the filter."