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1
Throughout my teenage years I was a regular cigarette smoker. I did stay away from other drugs, except for cigarettes and alcohol, arguably the worst two. By the time I completed university, at the age twenty-one, I began a relationship with an awesome guy named, Steven. He was three years older than me and very sports orientated. He also wasn’t very keen on dating smokers. I was trying to kick the habit when we first met, and he went on to help me immensely overcome the addiction. He placed no pressure on me to quit, but I felt certain the relationship wouldn’t have worked out if I had continued with my expensive and unhealthy packet a day. Steven compromised to, accepting my social relapses if I was drinking with friends.
After around nine months of dating, Steven asked me if I would like to move into his apartment. I was working so could pay my own way, and I was ninety nine percent smoke free. The one percent being those social relapses I mentioned. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to live with him. We had fallen deeply in love with each other, and I was convinced that we would one day marry.
Living with Steven was everything I imagined it being. He was generous, compromising and never controlling. It was our place, and he welcomed my input and contribution when it came to decorating the apartment or buying new furniture.
From memory it was around six months of living together that the “routine” arrived in our relationship. Our jobs, workouts and meeting with friends and family had become predictable and almost scheduled. Even sex became predictable, once in the week and once on the weekend.
Smart mobile devices were on the horizon, but they were not yet available. We each had laptops and one main desktop computer in the spare room. As Steven began playing less sports, he filled the extra time in the spare room on the desktop playing games. I didn’t mind too much, it gave me space to read, gossip with friends on the phone, or watch my TV soaps.
Then one day, when I was alone in the apartment, I was experiencing issues with the Wi-Fi connection to my laptop. Deciding to finally give up, I went into the spare room and booted up the desktop to complete my online shop.
Now I don’t know if Steven had been blasé or negligent with his online activity, but when I logged on I was shocked to find the internet history full of links to porn sites. I have never been prudish about pornography; I understand men will watch it from time to time to get off. But I was shocked because Steven was the one who tended to reject my sexual advances, and not the other way around. I felt hurt, sad and rejected as I clicked on the links and discovered all manner of porn fantasies he had never discussed with me.
There was the typical girl-on-girl porn, a guy with two girls, and gangbangs. But what surprised me the most were the clips of women smoking cigarettes. I was aware that smoking is considered sexy by some, but I had never heard the term smoking fetish before. Plus, Steven was an anti-smoker, or so I thought. Some of the videos displayed women dressed in leather, dominatrix like, smoking and talking into the camera. There were also some which simply showed women smoking naturally, as if they were having a normal cigarette break at the kitchen table. I decided to not delete the history, or even raise the issue with Steven. I respected his privacy, to a point, while I decided what to do.
As the weeks passed I began to check his internet history whenever he wasn’t at home. Sometimes he had cleared it and sometimes he hadn’t. The same genres would appear if he hadn’t covered his tracks. I grew to no longer feel hurt, sad or rejected. Instead I became inquisitive within myself. I wondered about what I could do to bring his attention away from internet porn and back to me. I hadn’t let myself go since we started living together. I still worked out, ate healthy and I was available for sex whenever he was in the mood. We were only in our twenty’s; we should have been shagging every opportunity we had.
Wracking my brains over how to best approach the matter, I quickly accepted I couldn’t offer him girl-on-girl action or a gangbang. That only left me with his apparent fetish for smoking. That I could do, but did I really want to smoke regularly again? Besides, I couldn’t just start smoking without first discussing with him what I had discovered. I was at my wits-end, but I had to do something. I had been losing out on good sex with my lover to internet porn.
The straw that finally broke the camel’s back, as they say, was the last time I checked his internet history. I noticed there were now more smoking videos than regular porn. I decided to watch and study, to try and understand the connection and interest my boyfriend obviously had to these videos. The women smoked in a way that was clearly seductive and erotic for anyone turned on by smoking. I struggled to figure it out, casting my mind back to the times I had smoked in front of Steven. He istanbul seks hikayeleri always looked on with a disapproving gaze. Why did he hide his true feelings from me?
As I watched a video of a busty blonde, sat on a large windowsill, gazing out of the window whilst she smoked without a care in the world, I began to reminisce about my own smoking experiences. I remembered being with four friends, giggling as we all contributed to buying a packet of Silk Cut. We went into the nearby woods, lit our cigarettes and then coughed our lungs up. Thinking back to those days I realised I had been fascinated by smoking to. I don’t remember it being a sexual thing, it was more about being influenced by my favourite celebrities who smoked. Every female smoking on TV or in movies were always playing strong and powerful characters. Linking the possible connection to why I started smoking, I began to relax about Steven’s secret. The busty blonde helped me understand why a man might find smoking a turn on.
I continued watching until the eleven minutes and thirty-five seconds video ended. By that point I had accepted Steven had this kinky fetish, although it didn’t exactly explain what it was he enjoyed about it.
That weekend I decided to do something which would either make or break our relationship. Whatever happened I was ready to show Steven that I was open to accept his fantasy, and even indulge him in it if he wanted. I just couldn’t gauge how he would react. Would he feel cornered? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Guilty? Could he manage me knowing? More importantly, could he manage what I was going to do?
2
Saturday morning, Steven was wolfing down his breakfast, watching the sports news channel, when I joined him.
“Morning,” I smiled, sitting on the arm of the other sofa to his left.
“Morning… gorgeous,” He muttered, in between spoonful’s of cereal, his gaze not leaving the T.V.
I knew he would be out the door the moment he finished his breakfast. He was already dressed for a round of golf with his friends, as he was most Saturdays.
“Will you be home by six tonight? I was thinking of cooking us something nice. Maybe we could have a few drinks and… have an early night?” I suggested with one of my cute smiles.
Steven finally turned and looked at me. I had only just gotten out of the shower, my long dark hair wrapped up in a towel upon my head. I felt warmth throughout my body as he looked me up and down with his gorgeous smile. He appeared tempted by my five-six, busty figure beneath the red silk negligee.
“Sounds great.” He beamed, his gaze lingering at my D cup chest.
I was considering enticing him back to bed when his phone began to ring. No chance, when I quickly realised it was his best friend.
“I’m leaving in five minutes, Dan.” He said, upon answering the call.
“Brilliant, any chance you can pick me up on the way? The car won’t start!” Dan’s annoyingly loud voice blasted out of Steve’s phone.
“Yeah, of course I can. I’m just finishing some breakfast and saying goodbye to Bethan, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Awesome! How is your fine young lady? Has she come to her senses yet and realsied she picked the wrong guy?” He laughed.
“He wishes!” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, before getting up to go dry my hair.
“She’s fine. Behave yourself, she heard that. I’ll see you shortly!” Steven confirmed and hung up the phone.
I was near the bedroom door when he called out to me. “I’ll be home by six, Beth. I’m definitely up for one of your dishes and some fun.”
I smiled, threw him a wave and walked into our bedroom. As I sat in front of my vanity unit I removed the towel from my head and picked up my hairbrush and hairdryer, I thought about my plan. Knowing Steven like I thought did, I couldn’t fully bring myself to believe it would work. But then did I really know him at all? I turned on the dryer and stared at my reflection, watching my breasts lift and fall as I moved the heat around my head and brushed my hair. It would work, Beth, I told myself. Have faith, he watches those smoking videos for a reason.
An hour later, ready and dressed in one of my light floral summer dresses, I drove to the supermarket. Completing my search of the aisles, ticking off each item I needed for our evening, I finally arrived at the checkout till. I frowned at the old lady scanning my shop way too fast for me to bag it up, and then made my way back to the car. Once I had loaded the boot, I turned back towards the store. I had two more things left to buy.
Standing at the kiosk, where people bought their lottery tickets, scratch cards and tobacco products, I waited patiently, scanning the various brands of cigarettes behind the cashier. When I was a smoker I smoked Silk Cut cigarettes. They were not too strong, and they were reasonably priced. But as I stood in the queue, waiting to be served, I thought about the cigarettes in the videos Steven had been watching. They had a feminine appeal about them. Long, thin, and all white. The lipstick stains on the filter had been the focus of many of the videos, but I had only ever smoked cork filtered cigarettes, so I wasn’t familiar with other brands. Then a long rectangular packet, embossed with its pink and white stylish design, similar to Silk Cut, grabbed my attention.
“Next please.” The cashier said, beaming that fake customer service smile.
“Hello, can I please have a packet of Richmond Superslims and a pink lighter to match?” I grinned.
“I.D?” She asked, still smiling.
“Gladly,” I giggled, pulling out my driver’s license. I never took offence to being asked for I.D. I was twenty-three and still being mistaken for being under eighteen, I took it as a compliment.
Back in my car, clutching the packet of cigarettes in my hand, I considered lighting one for old times’ sake. I would need to practice my seductive style if I were going to smoke like the women in those videos. But then I thought better of it, not wanting to ruin the fresh smell inside my car.
3
Around 4.PM I texted Steven and asked if he was on schedule to be home at six. He replied saying he was and that he couldn’t wait to see what I was serving before whisking me off to the bedroom. I giggled as I read his text, but then started to feel anxious. I needed to stop worrying if I was going to pull this off. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t smoked a cigarette before. The first stage of my plan was to set the mood.
I tidied the apartment and organised the joint lounge-dining area for a romantic meal. Once the table was set, including candles, I went into the bedroom and chose a pair of smart trousers and a matching shirt for Steven to wear. I then mulled over my own outfits before choosing my favorite clubbing dress. A short, black, sleeveless, halter neck, which revealed my ample cleavage. Steven always appreciated how it hugged my body and showed off my curves.
Hanging his clothes over the back of our double wardrobe, ready for when he returned home, I then prepared the bedroom. I scattered rose petals over the top of the duvet and set the lavender candles on both bedside cabinets. Then anxiety crept in again as I placed the cigarettes and lighter beneath my pillow. Blocking out my worries, I stood back and admired the scene I had created. Next I went into the kitchen, put the wine into the fridge, and then began preparing my favourite carbonara dish.
Before I knew it, it was 5.PM. With everything set I jumped into the shower and attended to my legs, armpits and pubic mound. It had been two days since I last shaved, and I needed everything to be perfect. I didn’t need to wash my hair again, but I still made sure I wore it just how Steven liked, curling my long dark hair with my curlers while I sat naked in front of the mirror. Next up were my nails, opting for a dark red which matched the rose petals. Then came my make-up. Not slutty, but sultry, using just enough eye liner and foundation before applying a moist dark red lipstick into my soft, kissable lips.
5.45.PM, I received a text from Steven informing me he was down in the apartment block carpark. I grabbed my dress, heels, perfume and dashed naked into the kitchen. Only then did I reply, instructing him to come up, grab a quick shower, and change into the clothes I had picked out for him.
I was so nervous, excited and anxious, all at the same time, that I couldn’t prevent myself from laughing. I was naked in our kitchen, realising I hadn’t given much thought to the final part of my plan. I texted Steven again, telling him to sit at the table when he was ready. Like a madwoman, I rushed to the dining table, lit the candles, dimmed the lights, put on a romantic CD, and then bolted back into the kitchen. I was laughing hard, closing the kitchen door behind me as I heard Steven enter the apartment.
Being still for a few moments I waited until I heard the shower running. I then threw an apron over my naked body and calmed myself down to cook the food. I knew it wouldn’t take long as I had already prepped the ingredients and wine. It was quite the experience cooking naked, I should have ordered a takeaway. There was no way I could risk cooking with a creamy white sauce in a black dress.
“It smells great, Beth!” I heard him shout, some twenty minutes later. “I can’t wait to see your outfit if you’ve picked this out for me! Very smart indeed!” He chuckled on the other side of the door.
“Don’t come into the kitchen!” I panicked, serving up the dishes and grabbing the wine. “Just make yourself comfortable at the table! I’ll be out in a jiffy!”
“I can’t wait!”
“Ok, Beth, just relax. You got this.” I encouraged myself as I inspected my cooking one last time.
Removing the apron, I fanned myself with my hands and picked up my dress from the back of the chair. With a deep breath I shimmed the dress up my legs, over my body and bust. I then pulled the halter neck over my head and jiggled my boobs into position. I have to admit my cleavage looked very inviting. Thankfully, I had chosen simple, sexy four-inch heels which slipped over my feet with ease. Finally, I sprayed my perfume, grabbed the bottle of wine and headed for the kitchen door.
“Wow!” Steven gasped when I entered the room. “I wasn’t expecting this much effort!” He delighted.
“Be a good date and you might just get to take it off later.” I teased, before pouring two glasses of wine.
“I’ll do whatever you ask if I get to have you in that dress tonight!” He smirked at my cleavage as if seeing it for the first time.
“I might just hold you to that.” I giggled, sensing my unexpected way in.
During the next half, an hour or so we talked about Steven’s day as we drank wine and enjoyed the carbonara. I thought showing interest in his round of golf would help stroke his ego. His competitive nature bubbled whenever we discussed his sports. The conversation then turned risqué as the wine flowed and we opened our second bottle. As I always did, when I drank wine in particular, I began to experience the yearnings for a cigarette. Usually I could ignore them, reminding myself I was no longer a smoker when I was with Steven, especially inside the apartment. But given my plan for tonight, the cravings were stronger. One way or another I knew I was going to lit up that night.
“Steven,” I spoke directly into his eyes, my heart rate increasing.
“Bethan,” he smiled back at me.
“If I could do anything for you, what would it be?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, puzzled.
“You know,” I squirmed a little, “sexually.”
He laughed then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He answered, appearing slightly uncomfortable himself.
Running a dark red painted nail around the rim of my wine glass, I pressed on. “I’m being serious. If I were willing to fulfill a sexual fantasy of yours, what would it be?”
“Urrr… wow, Beth, I don’t know. I mean… I love you… and I only want you.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Come on, Steven. I’m trying to be open and honest with you here.”
“Not really.” He sounded defensive. “You’re asking me to be open and honest. Ok then, let me flip the question around and ask you what your sexual fantasy is?”
Damn! I should have seen that one coming. I tried to think fast, but with near three glasses of wine slushing around inside my head I was struggling.
“Not so easy is it.” He chuckled at my self-inflicted predicament.
“I just want to make you happy… and keep you satisfied in the bedroom.”
“Beth, you do make me happy and keep me satisfied. I know we don’t play around as often as we used to, but we can change that. Are you not happy or satisfied?”
“Of course I am. Well, most of the time I am. I don’t really have fantasies. But I do want to be adventurous like we used to be.”
“You mean sex outdoors and rough play?” He suggested. “Just like we did when we first started dating?”
“Not just that, but roleplay, dressing up, and just trusting each other to be open about what turns us on.”
“Dress up as what?”
“I don’t know. A schoolgirl Britney Spears, maybe? I could even get the old cigarettes out to make it trashier.” I tested him.
“I don’t mind that.” He smirked. You know, the schoolgirl bit.”
“The cigarettes too much?” I asked, hoping this would be easier than I thought.
“Well, you don’t smoke anymore.” He replied with a hint of openness in his tone. Had his red light turned to amber? I wondered.
“Don’t remind me. To be honest with you, I could do with one right now.” I pretended to whine, hoping for a green light.
“You don’t really want to go back to smoking though, do you?” He inquired, his tone and facial expression suggesting he was stalling on amber.
“It would be nice to indulge now and again.” I smirked. “It sometimes makes me feel sexy.”
“Really?” He coughed as he swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Sexy how?”
“You wouldn’t understand having never smoked.” I said, laying more bait.
“I understand its addictive, but how does smoking make you feel sexy?” He asked again, showing signs his curiosity was piquing.
Gazing across the candlelit dinner table at Steven, we kept eye contact as I finished the dregs from my wine glass. I took the silent moment to consider my next move. It was time to up the ante and exaggerate my addiction to smoking, drawing on what I had learnt from the videos. I still didn’t understand why it aroused him.
“I was curious about smoking when I was a teenager.” I began my explanation as I refilled our glasses, making sure my cleavage was presented directly in his eye line as I leaned across the table. “I was heavily influenced by the bad girl image. I wanted to be one of those rebellious girls… you know… the ones who attracted the older bad boys.” I laughed.
“And?” Steven chuckled.
“And what?” I smiled, before taking a large gulp of wine.
“Did you get the older bad boys?” He grinned with a wink.
“Not really, although I did give a guy head in his car once whilst smoking a cigarette.” I lied.
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