Smoking Siobhan

I sat on my barstool watching the table of girls drinking and chatting away. I was not within earshot, so I couldn't hear what they were talking about. Not that it mattered.

There were two blondes, two brunettes, and a redhead. The redhead caught my eye, but I hoped at least one of them was my type. All five of them was gorgeous and I wouldn't be disappointed if any of the was what I was looking for.

As I studied them, not really hiding the attention with which I was examining them, I began to notice things that convinced me the redhead was probably what I was looking for. And even though the bar was not crowded at all, at this point, I was not on their radar and they hadn't really noticed me.

I watched as she drank her drink through the cocktail and after each sip, pull the stirrer out and place it between her lips, or just twirl it. She was just a little more fidgety than the rest of them and several times I caught her looking towards the back door that led to a patio.

Finally, I saw her finish her drink and, so it appeared, politely excuse herself. She grabbed her small purse and stood. She could have been going to the ladies' room, also in the back. But, none of the others seemed to be joining her, so I surmised that was not her destination. My assumptions were confirmed when I saw her make her way through the mostly empty tables and turn towards the door that led outside.

I rose from my perch, tossed a ten on the bar for my drink and followed her, hoping I would not be too late.

As I stepped through the door, I thanked the gods, that I was not too late. She was staring at the screen of her phone and had not started. We were alone.

I took a seat in the shadows and watched. She opened her purse and put her phone away and pulled out her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Obviously obsessed with her need, she still had not acknowledged my presence, although I was less than twenty feet away. She flipped open the lid of the box, a box I immediately recognized as Virginia Slims Menthol Gold. Heavens! Why did they have to force cigarette makers to change the names of their products? It made purchasing a pack so difficult these days.

I saw the look of disgust when she pinched the filter with her cherry red fingernails and pulled the last slender cigarette out. She tossed the empty box in the trash and finally conscious of me, shook her head, frowning. "Last one." I said nothing in reply. She returned to ignoring me.

I watched, mesmerized, as she placed the filter between her lips, painted a shade matching her nails, and flicked the lighter. She held the flame against the tip and drew in. A look of satisfaction and relaxation spread across her face. How long had it been since her last smoke? Too long, I guessed. She formed a small "o" with her luscious lips and with a long slow exhale, blow a stream of bluish grey smoke up towards the rafters of the roof covering the otherwise open patio. She watched the smoke slowly dissipate. I did, as well.

She wore a black bodycon knit dress, that stopped inches below her lush ass and hugged the curves of her perfectly proportioned breasts, waist and hips. She was braless and the cool evening air had caused the sensitive nipples of the deliciously sized breasts to clearly harden. Her long, curly, red locks framed her freckled face and nose, bespeaking her Irish ancestry. Even in the low light, I could see the shiny nylon covering her legs and make out just the top of the elastic of her stay-up stockings, barley covered by the bottom of her dress. On her feet, she wore 4-inch black stilettos, making her almost as tall as me.

Holding the cigarette between the middle and ring fingers of her left hand, an uncommon technique, she raised it again and took another hit. The orange ember matched the color of her hair. This time she formed a large "O" and let the smoke drift out of her lungs and open mouth, in a tumbling cloud.

She flicked the ash, held the back of her hand towards her face, and stared at the cigarette, studying the glowing ember. Hungrily, she took another puff. This time, the smoke flowed out of her nostrils, as she kept her mouth closed. This provided a rush of nicotine, clearly shown in her emerald eyes, as the mucous membranes absorbed a large dose of the addictive substance.

Was she feeling anything anywhere else, I wondered. I certainly was, without having inhaled a single drag.

Never letting the ash grow to a grotesque length, she flicked the cigarette, often. Nearly five minutes had passed, the common amount of time it took to smoke a VS. She stubbed the remaining bit in an ashtray on one of the tables.

Finally, she looked back at me and spoke for only the second time. "Did you come out here to smoke, too, or what?"

I stood up and approached her. "No. Well, yes. I did come out here to smoke, but mainly, I came out here to watch you smoke."

A grin formed in the corners of her mouth. She understood.

"Well, I guess the show is over." She smiled. "You know, I usually like to have two back to back, but like an idiot, I forgot to grab another pack, as you well know by now."

"That's a shame. I was enjoying the sexy way you smoke."

"Well, you wouldn't happen to have one I could bum?."

Of course I had cigarettes and there was no way I was going to refuse her.

"And, I suppose it doesn't matter which brand." She blurted. "Beggars can be choosers."

"I guess this is your lucky day, then," I said as I pulled an unopened pack of Virginia Slims Menthol Gold 120s from my jacket pocket. "And mine, too."

"Hmmmm, a man who smokes Virginia Slims, that's interesting, and menthol, AND 120s. You intrigue me."

"I intend to do more than that." I said with a wry smile.

I proceeded to slowly pull the band that cut the cellophane, as she watched. Then I flipped open the lid, tugged at and pulled out the gold foil flap, and threw the cellophane and foil in the trash. I moistened the tip of my index finger with my tongue to get a grip on the center cigarette of the front row and slid it out. I offered the first one to her, filter end first and she accepted it.

She then reached in her purse to get her lipstick and applied a fresh coat. "Sorry, habit."

I watched as she painted her plump lower lip, the rubbed her upper and lower lips together. It was only then that she placed just half an inch of the long, white stick in her mouth. She didn't have to wait, I was ready with the antique, classic, silver Zippo in my hand and flicked the wheel, starting the flame. She cupped the fire, again out of habit, as the air was still, and sucked. Not in a way that collapsed her cheeks, or anything, but with force.

"Godddd. It's been a while since I've had a 120."

"Yes, they're my favorite."

In the meantime, I had lit my own, savoring the smoke as my first draw filled my lungs, and I felt the familiar burn of one's first cigarette of the evening. I also kept a watch as her chest and breasts swelled with each puff. We talked as we smoked.

"So, your friends in there (tilting my head towards the bar) don't smoke?"

"Some used to. But they've 'given it up.' Like so many others. So I usually have to smoke by myself when we go out drinking. And personally, I guess that's about the only time I smoke. I used to smoke more. And in college... don't get me started. Well, actually, that's where I started. My roommate introduced me to smoking. We used to smoke constantly, it seems. But these days, it's so socially unacceptable, I just kinda stopped smoking so much. But, I do still enjoy it immensely."

"''s a pity for them, ha ha, your friends, that is. And that's a shame to hear about you, too, because you look so good doing it."

"Well aren't you a charmer? But I suppose I already knew that, offering a lady a Virginia Slim Menthol 120, and lighting it for her. What about you? What's your story?"

We sat side by side on a bench.

"My mother and her friends used to smoke All. The Time. They all looked so elegant and sexy with their Virginia Slims and Benson & Hedges 100s, too. Remember those? They were so carefree and happy, smoking. Even when in the pool in their bikinis. I would just watch them for hours."

"My dad died when I was young and she raised me as a single mother. In the evenings we would be sitting on the sofa watching television, her smoking, and she would place her feet in my lap. 'Be a dear, and rub Mommy's feet.' I would pay more attention to her smoking and to her stockinged feet than whatever show was on. Well, as puberty kicked in, it became harder for me to hide my reaction, if you know what I mean. And it's likely she knew, so that stopped. But we would still watch TV, and she would smoke. I'd just watch her from another chair."

"I was probably ten when I pilfered my first VS Menthol Light, as they were called, back then. I was hooked, probably before that even, if I'm being honest. After a while, Mom never even noticed if a whole pack went missing from the kitchen drawer, where she kept them. If she did, she never mentioned it."

The redhead, her name being Siobhan, a true Irish lass, listened intently as I related my tale. We finished our cigarettes. I pulled out two more and lit hers before handing it to her, then lit one for me. I continued.

"When I was got to high school, I started hanging out with friends, smoking. I got a lot of shit from the guys, because I smoked VS, but the girls always knew they could count on me for their favorite brand. I began watching them smoke."

"Eventually, after I turned eighteen, one evening when I was home, instead of out with my friends, Mom said something about the quantity on cigarettes I was taking at that point.

"I know you're smoking. That's ok. But, maybe, in exchange you could give me the occasional foot rub, like you used to do. Would you do that for Mommy?"

I said, 'Sure.'

'How about now?'

'Okay.'

"So we sat on the sofa like we used to do (she still looked good for her age). She kicked her heels off, swung her feet up and placed them on my legs. She lit a Virginia Slim and I began rubbing her feet through her pantyhose."

'You like to watch Mommy smoke, don't you?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'You've always like to watch Mommy and her friends smoke, haven't you?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Would you like one? Here.' She handed me her lit cigarette, without waiting for me to respond, and lit another for herself.

"I continued rubbing her feet with my right hand and smoking with my left. Within minutes I came inside my pants. It was obvious. Although, she didn't seem upset. As a matter of fact, she acted as if nothing had happened. She just lifted her feet and sat up."

'Go clean up, baby. And then you can come back and we can have another smoke together.'

"This became a common occurrence until I went off to college. But no word was ever spoken about my emissions. I would just go clean up and return like nothing had ever happened."

Siobhan was squirming by the end of my story. "Wow! So now, you go out to bars to watch women smoke, and to smoke, yourself. You tell them this saga, get them all wet and horny. Then what comes next?"

"I take them home and fuck them." I said matter of factly.

She stood. I stood. She headed towards the door. "What are we waiting for?" I followed.

I waited at the front door of the bar as she told her friends goodbye. I had a cigarette lit and waiting for her as I held the door of my car open. We made the short drive to my apartment and I stole glances of her smoking, while trying not to get in an accident.

Once there, she had a seat on the couch while I fixed us drinks. When I returned and sat down, she turned and laid her feet across my lap. She opened the pack on cigarettes on the end table, pulled one out and I lit it for her. "Be a dear and rub Mommy's feet." I had a flashback and pulled off her shoes and tossed them to the floor. She rested her heels in my lap and blew smoke at me.

Wanting to use both hands, I resisted the urge to light a cigarette of my own. I used my strong hands and thumbs to push hard at the balls of her right foot. I rubbed and stroked the arches and then massaged the heel. She held her cigarette in one hand and with the other, raised the hem of her dress and stroked her pussy through her panties. The front of which were already very wet. "Mmmmm. That feels so good." She swapped feet. While I went to work on her left foot, she pressed down with her right foot and began to rub my cock through my jeans.

She sat up and held her cigarette out. I put my lips on the lipstick covered filter and inhaled. Before I exhaled, she held her other hand out, the one soaked with her pussy juice, and rubbed my lips with it, before pushing her fingers into my mouth. It never tasted better. Vagina and Virginia Slims. I let the smoke escape through my nose.

When the cigarette was finished, she stubbed it out in the clean ashtray on the coffee table. She slid down on the couch, pulled off her panties and said, "fuck me."

I stripped off my clothes and laid on top of her. She guided my hard, 7-inch cock into her waiting hole. We began rocking in unison until I filled her cunt. I gently bit her nipples through the fabric of her dress and kissed her forcefully as we build up steam. I stroked in and out, feeling her pussy clench and unclench. I smashed her clit with my pelvis and began pistoning faster and faster. My balls slapped her taint. Her juices flowed freely.

Suddenly, she tensed. "That's it! FUCK ME! FUCK MOMMY! AHHHHHHHH, FUUUUUUCK!"

With one last thrust, I injected her with my seed, shooting cum deep into her vagina, as she shook with aftershocks from her climax and I collapsed on top of her.

"Fuck, that was awesome!" She said as we shared a postcoital cigarette after I had rolled off of her. "Can we do it again?"

"Let's have another smoke." I said.