[ Post a Response | The Sublime Desire of Cigarette Smoking ]
Posted by Johannes
on August 19, 2009, 5:09 pm
I'll try to be brief-
Installment One-the Lady of Salem
Oh I'd smoked a Salem before. I'd had the kings and the 100's. Another of my ladies (which actually precedes this installment) had captured me with her cigarette years before. This night was different; let me explain.
Our automatic washer was on the fritz, so my family drove together to the local coin laundry to do the week's laundry. We made it a family thing-and it took quite awhile to finish. I calculate the year to be 1974, I was twelve years of age.
The time -after dark, I'm guessing around 9pm. We shared the room that night with a couple of people all with their laundry spinning, most had their head in a newspaper or book.
As a twelve year old I was continuously scouring the environment for any sign of a woman smoking.
I had noticed this really beautiful dark haired woman. She had a couple of kids with her and several laundry baskets. She looked to be about 27-28 or so. Her hair was past her shoulders and straight but curled-the cut sort of framed her face. She didn't wear a lot of makeup that night (obviously) but she looked like she would be a knock-out in full gear. Her outfit revealed a rather tall and lean super-model type of body. She had on white pants with bell bottom or flared legs. They hugged her beautifully shaped ass and I can still see her panty lines. She wore a brief, though not a halter top that was black and hung loosely. The back was open and the scooped neck revealed smallish but very shapely tits.
She looked like a smoker, and I tried to keep a close eye, one of them out of my comic book at all times.
In those days the laundromat was full of ashtrays and smoking was freely encouraged inside, but I never saw her light up-until…
She put a load in and walked out the door. She turned to the left, and I knew she was going to the convenience store that adjoined the laundry. It was then I saw the long green and white pack of “Salem Longs” in her palm as she opened her car door to sit down in the driver’s seat. She was opening the fresh soft pack. As she whizzed the cellophane leader off and breached the tin foil on one side to open her treasure, I saw a look of impending satisfaction couched in desperation on her face. She gently tapped one of the luxuriously long and satisfying menthol cigarettes into her fingers and placed it gently in her lips.
By now I was aroused and feeling light headed, realizing what I had hoped for all evening. As she brought the flames to her delicious cigarette and took the deepest drag possible-I fought everything in me to keep from experiencing and orgasm right there.
I watched as she took a couple of seven second drags, allowing the ball of cool smoke to French inhale into her nostrils and lungs. I saw satisfaction and calm begin to show on her, that deep satisfaction of a rich cigarette. As I settled in to watch the rest of this Salem Long show-I got another surprise. One of her kids came running back to the car-apparently to say that the clothes were ready.
In one motion she placed the Salem in her lips, opened the car door and stood to her feet. My heart was at a fever pitch by now. She set into a hands drag of five to six seconds and reached for the cigarette in her pouty lips. With smoke boiling from her nostrils she simply dropped it by her foot as she walked toward the door. She was still exhaling a cloud from her nostrils as she approached the dryer. I could see her Salem smoldering away, in perfect condition right next to her station wagon. A couple of kids were still in the car, and they were about my age.
I had to have it-I could not let it go. I’ll cut to the chase for time’s sake. How in the world could I get that cigarette without those kids seeing me? What if they ran in to tell their mom about the weird kid who just got her cigarette? What if my parents actually heard the conversation? For that matter what would I do with it? My parents are RIGHT HERE…and they would kill me if they saw me smoking.
The raging arousal in my pants and my pounding chest severely limited my options. I damned the torpedoes and told mom “I’m going to walk over to the store.” Yes that’s it! Quick thinking don’t you think? She said “don’t be long and come straight back.”
I walked out and instead of a hard left, I walked into the parking lot, just happening to walk between the station wagon and the car on its right. I planned my approach and walked very deliberately. I planned my retrieval- within three steps I would pull something from my pocket, a coin or whatever-pretend to “drop” it, and bend over to get it-while retrieving the item I would scoop and cup the Salem in my palm and walk very quickly behind the store.
Worked like a charm. I think the kids were oblivious. By the time I got behind the store I was so nervous I thought my knees would buckle, but I knew that destiny was in the making. I could smell the smoke. By the powerful streetlight I looked in my fingers-and I could see SALEM LUXURY LENGTH…not only were all the letter intact, there was a good three quarters of the cigarette’s length remaining for someone’s great enjoyment. The cigarette looked like it was fresh out of the pack, and it hadn’t been damaged at all by the temporary rest on the dry pavement. I noticed that the long white filter was already tinting yellow on the end.
I noticed my hands were shaking as I took the filter to my own young lips and pursed them. It was far from my first cigarette. I had been smoking half-butts and others for sometime. I’d even tried a couple of Salems before and I knew their delicious flavor. This one however, was the closest thing I’d ever had to a “real” one. My experience was limited to stale butts that had been crushed and straightened. Some had sat in an ashtray for hours and all were re-lit. It’s not that they weren’t good-they were. As a matter of fact I had already begun to crave tobacco smoke on a daily basis, and every day I would smoke a couple of butts as I trained my lungs to handle smoke. I could inhale without coughing. But this was different.
This was the closest thing to the subject of the fantasy dreams which had just begun in my experience. This was very close to a woman actually sharing her cigarette with me. She lit this one for me. It was as fresh as a cigarette gets. The only variation from my fondest fantasy was that this one lived on the pavement for fifteen seconds between her dropping and my retrieval. In my mind we were at a grown-up cocktail party, and this seductress walked by and took a last drag on her long cigarette, pulled it from her lips and placed it in mine, blew her smoke in my face and winked and walked straight to the bedroom without ever taking her eyes off me…
By the time the buzzing of the sodium light above awoke me I was into the third second of my first drag. Four, five, six-pull it out. I held it in my mouth for a moment and I opened just enough to mix the ratio of air to smoke, careful not to lose the precious flavor, and I snapped it into my lungs. I had known smoking satisfaction before, but never like this.
Thoughts began to run through my mind. I had never felt so alive, or so grown. I tried to pace myself so as not to ruin the lovely appearance of my fresh Salem Long. I wanted my ashes to look good-like those I’d seen on so many women’s cigarettes. My burgeoning manliness felt offense when I realized I was unconsciously holding the cigarette like a lady-and enjoying the look of the long treasure in my fingers. I tried to put away the thoughts of offense and told myself I just want to enjoy it like she does. My “gay” feelings quickly dissipated and I allowed myself to enjoy smoke like a lady.
On about my fifth drag I realized how long this Salem pleasure actually lasts. Looking back now I remember the cigarettes of the seventies were packed tight-it’s no exaggeration to say they may well have lasted twice as long. There was no such thing as “Salem Light” with air vent holes in that day. These cigarettes were rated around 21mg of tar, and they delivered smoking pleasure for a full ten minutes I would guess. By now I was getting paranoid, and hoping my mother would not come looking for me.
I was determined to enjoy that cigarette to the last moment. I remember looking at the print-and pulling it all the way to SA (of SALEM) before my discretion overcame me. The cigarette was pretty much spent and if I ditched now I would be free as a bird. My mom and dad smoked like chimneys and they would be oblivious to the fact that I now reeked like a smoker. I could taste the menthol on my lips and tongue into the night and even the next day. Every time it cracked my sensory perception I felt pride. That night lying in bed, I practiced my newly acquired delight of giving myself pleasure, but tonight I had extra pleasure as visions of “her” flashed before my brain. I could still lick my lips inside and taste Salem. My lungs were on edge and I could feel a bit of tightness-and a cleansing cough would come very easy.
I *was* a smoker. That was the night I entered into the family. All of my life I had wanted to be that. Tonight I was a smoker. I’ve never gotten over it.
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