This is the story of two people with fucked-up sexual histories who met in a bar one night in 1985, married a year later, and have been inseparable since that first night. We have more fun out of bed than in it, but sex is still spectacular. If you’re uncomfortable with male anal play and prostate stimulation, stop reading now. I’ve thought about how to classify our relationship, and I guess you could say we are a BD lifestyle couple, even if it isn’t evident in public.
Carmen is my wife, my lover, and my best friend. Although she doesn’t like to think of herself as a dominatrix and I’ve never used the title, Mistress” with her, she has a thing about sexual control because of her fucked-up past. She’s brilliant; she started college at fifteen, and got her doctorate in Biostatistics at twenty-four. My wife is average-looking, a Midwestern “corn-fed” gal. Five-five, blonde hair and blue eyes, round in the hips, butt, and belly, with surprisingly small tits, and she wears glasses. When we used to hang out at bars and nightclubs, she scarcely rated a glance from other guys, because she looks and acts like the nerd she is.
We were into prostate play, edging, milking, and post-orgasm stimulation long before it was a thing on the Internet. We also had a live-in sex slave for almost ten years. For my fiftieth birthday, she—rented—a porno actress to be our companion for a week. That was fun. The actress got a first-class international trip, some decent cash, and we all had fun—our rental girl even came, and more than once. She’s visited us a couple of times since, too—on her own nickel, no less. Carmen loves everything about my cum: watching my dick spurt it, tasting it, feeling it on or in her body, and sharing it. I still come hard and a lot, and if my wife can’t get what she wants through usual means, I have to take Viagra for her. This is our story.
I went wrong early on in puberty. It was at a family reunion, the first in several years, and the only place big enough was this park in the woods. Now, most of my family isn’t the outdoors type; I was the oddball. I loved it there, especially being able to see the night sky. I’m an astro-nerd: all things space and astronomy. The only bad part was my mom refused to let me bring my telescope. Still, I orienteered my way to a great clearing a little more than a mile from the bustle of the reunion. I had a blanket, water, binoculars, and concealment from my bigger, stupider cousins, so I was happy.
I was admiring the night sky away from the city lights when I heard a female voice yell, “Shit! I’m lost! And it’s my fucking mother’s fault! If she wasn’t such a bitch!” It turned into quiet muttering, slowly becoming hysterical. I scared the crap out of her when I appeared, asking if she needed help. “Ummm… yeah… I’m trying to find the stupid campground where my stupid family reunion is that my stupid mother made me go to so she could point out all my relatives who do everything perfect. You’d think they could find a hotel someplace, not these godforsaken woods.”
I was attending the same reunion, and discovered she was a fourth or fifth cousin or something like that. “Cece,” she introduced herself. “I’m from New York.” She was gorgeous and slim by the flashlight. “What the hell are you doing out here? Are you lost too?”
I told her I could find the campground without any problem, and I was just stargazing—and hiding from my bigger, stupider cousins. “Let me get my stuff and we can head back,” I said, “it’s about a mile.”
“No,” she immediately said. “I’m out here to get away from my mother’s bitching. She’s got the kids and is surrounded by relatives, so she’s fine. She probably won’t even miss me. You say you have stuff out here?”
I took her to my blanket. Cece drunkenly told me everything; she was twenty-seven, a college dropout, unmarried mother of two, and according to her mother, she couldn’t find a decent man because she acted like a whore. Fortunately, she was drunk and angry, not depressed and teary. “I need a cigarette.” She pulled a long green pack from her jeans and opened it. “Thank god they’re civilized enough to have Mores out here.” She was beautiful, even if she was, to use my mother’s term, “high-yellow.” With a toss of long, straight, black hair, she lit it with a Zippo, and exhaled smoke into the starlight, holding the long brown cigarette between narrow fingers. I asked was she smoking a cigar. “No, these are cigarettes, More menthols. I’m glad they had them at that little market and gas station on the way in so I could buy a carton. I was almost out, and I only smoke these.” She resumed bitching about her mother while she smoked. “My mother even complains about these—she says they make me look like a whore. She thinks everything I do makes me look like a whore.”
Nothing sexual had happened to this point. Yes, I had an erection, but I was fourteen, and she was pretty; I had no control over it. I was a complete virgin, though. Nerd that I was, girls wouldn’t come near me with a ten-foot pole. Never been kissed, never seen anything other than pictures in my dad’s Playboy magazines. I hadn’t ever come because of being told to, “stop playing with myself,” and being threatened with dire consequences if I kept doing it. Good boy nerd that I was, I obeyed. “So what exactly are you doing out here?” Cece finally asked, her rant over for the moment.
I told her to lie on her back. She giggled, “If I had a nickel…” Then I told her to look at the sky, and she gasped, “Wowwwww… Are all of those… stars? There’s so many!” I started to go into my excited astronomy nerd spiel, telling her about the difference between stars and planets and the constellations—until she put her hand squarely on my crotch and gave it a gentle squeeze. I must have jumped five feet. She giggled and rolled on her side. “C’mere, silly… I won’t bite.” I sat up and froze, panicked. She reached for my crotch again and I flinched. Cece giggled and lit another More. “S’mattter? Never been touched there by a girl before?” I shook my head vigorously, unable to speak. “Ever been kissed—anywhere?” I shook my head again.
Cece popped a big ball of smoke out of her mouth before exhaling. “Might as well have some fun if I’m gonna be exiled here for the next three days,” she grumbled. “Would you like to learn how to kiss a girl, Marvin? I can teach you how. It’s only fair. You taught me about stars n’stuff,” she cooed. “Besides, without you I’d probably get eaten by a bear or something.” She patted the blanket next to her, looking at me in a way I’d never seen before from a pretty woman. I timidly returned to the blanket. “I’m not going to touch you down there,” she comforted. A minute later, I had my first real kiss, clumsy and sloppy, and my dick was rock-hard. Five minutes later, I was “kissing like a pro,” and my dick was painfully trapped.
“What’s wrong?” Cece innocently cooed, following my eyes to my bulge. “Ohhh… that,” she sang, and with a devilish smile, she unzipped my jeans, moved my underwear and my cock sprang free. “You’re gonna make girls happy, Marvin,” she breathed. “Can I… touch it?” I nodded. She took a puff from her cigarette, and brushed her free hand across the shaft. It felt WAY better than when I did it. “Promise you won’t tell…” Cece wrapped her hand around it and stroked a few times. I got harder… and harder… and… FIRE! Starting in my nuts, coursing through my dick and resonating in my body. Again and again and again, white stuff erupted from the tip of my dick and flew through the night air. I could only whimper, afraid of making too much noise, while Cece giggled. Too soon, and not soon enough, it ended with me panting, the world having gone blurry, the stars forgotten. “Might have to get to the advanced lesson soon,” she said, half to herself, staring at my still-twitching dick. By the time I stopped gasping for air, I was hard again. Cece lit a cigarette and said, “Come on. You’d better get us back before they come looking for us.” Once we were within eyeshot of the campsite, Cece grabbed my arm. “Thanks for helping me get back here. Maybe we can go… stargazing tomorrow?” she smiled.
The following night, I met her on the fringe of the reunion with a bloody nose, courtesy of one of my bigger, stupider cousins, excused by his parents as, “teenage roughhousing.” My mother let me leave the reunion’s big get-together on the sly, worried as I was over the group of five boys grinding their fists into their palms when they saw me.
I chattered senselessly for about five minutes while Cece smoked her More menthol, and then she stopped in the middle of the woods to kiss me, after which I was too busy readjusting the bulge as we walked to our stargazing spot to say much else. “Y’ever seen a girl’s tits in real life?” she said, removing her top to reveal small, perky breasts. I stupidly shook my head no. “They aren’t tuning knobs on a television,” she instructed. “They’re here to be sucked on, licked, and gently fondled.” She placed my hand on her left breast, and pulled my head towards it. Being fourteen, I got harder just licking them. She sighed, “Ohhh, you’re a fast learner,” and shucked her jeans. No underwear. I gasped at my first sight of a nude female body. Slim and curvaceous, even after two kids, I understood why she had no shortage of male attention. “Y’wanna learn how to fuck a girl the right way, Marvin?” she teased. “Lie on your back and look at the stars for a moment…” I lasted less than a minute, although it seemed like an eternity. The delicious burning sensation left my head spinning, and I saw more stars than there were in the sky. Surely, it was supposed to last longer than that. I started to apologize, but Cece shushed me, we kissed for a while, and I was ready again. She lit one of her long, brown cigarettes, positioned herself over me and sat, enveloping me with her pussy. She leisurely rode me while smoking, and when she finished her cigarette, she became more energetic. The stars were forgotten, all that existed was this beautiful woman snapping her hips back and forth, eyes closed, and the marvelous sensation of being held within her. She started shuddering, and the vibrations around my cock initiated the burn.
Cece purred happily and kissed me until I started to get hard again. She climbed off. “That’s some marvelous dick you’ve got, Marvin,” she smiled. “Thick, not too long… Girls are gonna love it.” She slid off and lit another cigarette. “Tell me some more about the stars, so I can tell my mom where I went and she won’t freak.”
She wouldn’t let me kiss her or anything, and my cock eventually went soft. We returned to the campground as the festivities were winding down; I snuck back into our tent, and jerked off to orgasm for the first time in my life, fantasizing about Cece and her long, brown cigarettes.
Two years later, another reunion in the woods. I brought my telescope, hoping Cece would be there; I couldn’t wait to see her and her long brown cigarettes again. She was still the only woman I’d ever seen in the flesh. I was still a nerd, so I hadn’t had a chance to use the lessons she’d taught me with a real girl. Orgasm was achieved by masturbating, usually to fantasies of her or one of my female classmates smoking a long brown cigarette. Before I could get to her, I had to deal with my stupider cousins, who thought that picking on the nerdy cousin again was going to be as much fun as it was last time, even if they weren’t so much bigger now. Told you they were stupid. I put two years of martial arts lessons to use, returning the bloody nose, with a black eye for interest due, and wandered around looking for Cece. She found me the first night of the reunion, a long brown cigarette between her fingers, and I was hard again on sight. I set up my telescope in the same secluded spot where I’d lost my cherry, but it went unused as Cece showed me something new that was infinitely more interesting and amazing than the stars at night. She tasted wonderful. With a little bit of instruction, I left her quivering, shaking and moaning. Then I climbed on top of her. I’d seen pornos and thought I knew how it was supposed to work. She was a patient teacher, and when I was ready to come, I pulled out, stroked myself a couple of times like in the movies, and shot. My cum arced through the air, hitting her in the forehead, then her nose, her chin, her tits a couple of times, and then my dick drooled onto her belly, leaving a puddle. “Wow,” she remarked, “rude, but impressive. Do you always come like that?”
I gasped yes. “Well, two pieces of advice,” she said, “one, it’s extremely rude to come on a woman without an invitation, and two, it’s extremely frustrating when you stop fucking me to do it.” She lit a More. “Ever had a blowjob?” I got my first smoky blowjob at sixteen from my twenty-nine year old cousin. She swallowed, and then cleaned every drop she found on either of us with her mouth. It was super-erotic, and I wanted to fuck her again, but it was getting late. My dad was asleep, my mom awake and worried when I got back. I told her I’d lost track of time, which wasn’t uncommon for me to forget the clock when stargazing through my telescope. Cece and I spent the next night fucking up a storm. My mother saw the scratches two days later; I told her I slipped and fell on some evergreen branches.
It was back to giving myself calluses over fantasies of women smoking More menthols, but late senior year, it stopped being a fantasy for about five months. Maria Harper, an eighteen-year-old transfer student from Nova Scotia, was the first girl I knew other than Cece who smoked More menthols. She quickly tore through at least half the seniors and juniors in school, gaining the reputation of, “the school slut.” I was still a nerd, so I hadn’t gotten my piece; even the easy girls drew the line at nerds. That changed at one of those infamous “parents out of town” parties late in the school year.
I’d gone with a few nerdy buddies, who weren’t nearly as “good boy” as I was. I’ve never been into getting drunk or high, and got bored with them. I wondered if I could find an earlier ride home and went outside to see if anyone was leaving. I turned a corner just as Maria, leaning against the house underneath an area light, took a big drag from a More with a huge open-mouth inhale, and raised her chin for a well-lit, long, billowing, skyward exhale. She noticed me staring. “Hey, you’re the astrology guy from school, right?” she slurred, obviously drunk.
I said, “Marvin, and it’s astronomy.”
“Whatever,” she said, taking another big drag, still leaning sexily against the house. “I’m so wasted.” I said I would have given her a ride home, but didn’t have a car. She asked if I had a license. I did, so she tossed me her keys. “I’m too wasted to hang around here, but lemme finish my cigarette first.” I was only too happy to watch. We drove away from the party in silence; I had no idea of what to say, and didn’t dare look at her, because she’d lit another More, and I didn’t want to crash. She told me to turn down a stone road. I’m thinking it’s the driveway to her house, but it was a dead end. “Y’know, Marv,” she said, “I’m a nymphomaniac,” and pulled off her top. Maria gave me enough of a handjob to get me hard, which didn’t take long because she was smoking, we climbed into the back seat and fucked. She came, big and loud, and when I got close, told me to come on her tits. “Oh, wow,” she said, running her fingers through the big puddles of spooge on her chest. Then she lit another More, and we fucked some more afterwards. I returned her to her house, less than a mile away from my own, at two in the morning, her hair a mess, her cheeks rosy. We sat in her car and she smoked another More in her flamboyant fashion with the huge open-mouth inhales while she composed herself. “Thanks—Marvin. I didn’t wanna end up in a group grope at the party. See ya at school Monday.” She kissed me on the cheek and I limped home.
Back at school, Maria ignored me and I was still too tongue-tied to speak to her until one day, I saw her outside smoking a More with her usual sexy flair between classes, and before I realized what I was doing, asked her to prom. Maria dropped her cigarette in apparent shock, and gasped, “Really?” Resigned to having humiliated myself again, I nodded, shocked she wasn’t already rolling on the ground laughing. “Sure!” she happily said. “But you gotta meet my folks first. Wanna go out Saturday?” I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. The bell sounded, and she brightly said, “See you at six Saturday! My house!” before scurrying to class.
I met her parents; Maria started smoking More menthols because her mom did, but kept smoking them because she liked them; she wasn’t just sharing her mom’s. Maria was smart and funny, not just a walking pussy looking to be fucked. Given my experience with Cece’s mom, I started to wonder if “slut” was just a derogatory term for highly sexed women. On the way to the movies, I found out I was the first guy to ask her to prom, and she sadly observed, “Nobody wants to go to prom with the cigar-smoking school slut.” I told her I knew Mores weren’t cigars, adding it made her—unique because none of the other girls smoked them, and I thought they looked kind of sexy. “Oh, you are gonna get so laid!” was her gleeful response.
Maria knew a lot of secluded places to fuck, which was how we spent the weekends before prom. Maria loved it when I watched her smoke Mores, and she always did with big open-mouthed inhales and thick, billowing, oral exhales directed upwards with raised chin, the long brown cigarette held with limp-wristed grace, arm casually extended. Suddenly, the school slut was dating one of its biggest nerds. The guys wondered if Maria had suddenly become celibate (no way a nerd would know anything about fucking), while the girls said I was proof she’d sleep with anybody just to go to prom. Nobody talked to us at the prom except for a couple of my geeky friends who were pissed that I wasn’t sharing her. We went out frequently that summer. She got orgasms, I got a sexy More smoker, but when it was time to go to college, we went our separate ways.
I jerked off to fantasies of Maria and Cece a lot in college. Not one girl at my school smoked Mores, and I was still a painfully shy nerd lacking self-confidence. I did have a girlfriend for a while who smoked Virginia Slims. Most guys would say Kim was fat and dumpy, but she was sweet. We got together because I lit her cigarette at a party and talked about nerdy stuff away from the overly loud band. We broke up before the end of the semester because she was afraid I was just using her for sex.
Junior year, a few buddies hooked me up with a party bus going to Mardi Gras. In the middle of wall-to-wall drunken people, I saw a caramel-skinned slender beauty smoking Mores—in a cigarette holder! I thought fate had smiled on me because the crowd carried me right to her, and I bumped into her long smoke, getting a brief burn. She apologized and introduced herself as, “May.” I said if she really wanted to apologize, she’d let me buy her a drink.
We talked in a noisy bar for a few minutes until she asked if I wanted to get out of there. May took me to a little apartment outside the French Quarter, and said, “It’s twenty-five for a handjob, fifty for a blowjob. The price goes up from there.” I gaped at her. “Why, Sugah, y’all didn’t think I was hanging out theah by mah lonesome jus’ waitin’ for you? Y’all got to pay to play with this lil’ here month. I hope y’all ain’t so disappointed y’all gonna up an’ leave.” I blew my entire Mardi Gras and Spring Break stash on her, minus what she gave me for bus fare back to school three days later. Nevertheless, for those three days, I wined her and dined her like a girlfriend, and she acted like one, never giving any sign I’d rented her. She was even a proper southern belle when I took her to Commander’s Palace. I was hard for her at a hint or the flick of a lighter, and May did anything sexual I asked except let me come inside her. She showed me all the smoking tricks, with and without her holder, and gave great smoky blowjobs to get me all the way hard. I fucked her in the ass, bent over a table. We fucked standing up, her sitting on my thighs, braced by my arms, my dick, and the wall. One morning, she dragged me to the carpet on her own before breakfast and rode me. We also did it in the bed a few times. I paid her a lot less than she would have cost, just counting the sex. “I gave y’all a—Mardi Gras discount, an’ I’m not sorry, cher. Y’all rang my bell more’n a few times,” she grinned, kissing me on the cheek. “Sugah, y’all shouldn’t pay for this. Y’all got a lil’ somethin’ special of your own. Find yourself a nice gal an’ settle down. She’ll be real happy she found y’all.” Fortunately, that advice and some great memories were all I got from May; a couple of guys on the party bus weren’t so lucky.
But, I was still painfully shy and still nerdy, so it was back to solitary sex, broken up by the rare one-nighter, usually with a chick who was smoking something slim and decided I was Mr. “I’m horny enough he’ll do.” After graduation, I played boy toy once for a More-smoking lawyer over a couple of weekends. Long black hair, fast red Porsche, and long red nails. She was smart and hot, if fifteen years older, but she wasn’t interested much in talking. She loved my dick, but probably dumped me for another toy with fewer brains.
To sum up, since the age of fourteen, sex was mostly with my hand except in short bursts over a few days. Maria Harper was my longest relationship, if you could call five months of high school dating a relationship. The one girl I chased turned out to be a prostitute. One thing was constant: I’d never been with a woman who wasn’t a smoker, and most of them smoked Mores. Which brings me to a local bar in late spring of 1985.
Carmen and I met in the bar where I used to hang out on weekends. There was pinball, darts, live music, and great bar food, so it wasn’t just a place to go get drunk. And of course, young women, many of whom, in 1985, smoked. By then, the More craze was definitely over, and it was rare to see a woman smoking them. Not that it made any difference because I never actually talked to any woman I didn’t know; I spoke to the bar staff more than any of the hundreds of attractive women I saw. I was playing pinball that night, and went to the bar to grab a beer before I found another machine to torment. I wedged my way into a gap and waited to catch a bartender’s attention. Suddenly, I heard a female voice next to me say, “Oh, please tell me he’s not with anybody.” Instinctively, I looked around to see who she was talking about. There was a bunch of women gabbing away behind me at the bar, and for a few seconds, no man in sight. I looked at the woman who had spoken.
“Yes, I’m talking about you,” said a short, curly blonde woman with big glasses. Four women behind her giggled, and my cheeks got hot. “Carmen,” she said, and took a quick puff from a cigarette, tilted her head all the way back and exhaled straight up, before extending her free hand. The women with her tittered. I shook it, stammering my name. She was celebrating her promotion, and introduced me to her friends, who, I later learned, had dared her to make a pass at me because she’d made a slightly-drunk comment about my attractiveness. Her courage came from the vodka tonics she was drinking. While her boldness was intimidating, her next puff from an all-white kept me talking to her and her friends. I forgot about my beer and lit her next cigarette, a Marlboro Light 100 bummed from one of her friends. Carmen generally doesn’t smoke a lot, maybe five or six cigarettes a day, but smokes a lot more when she’s out drinking.
I’m shy and lack self-confidence, but I’m not stupid. Our conversation grew increasingly exclusive, and she started drinking club soda. Her friends faded into the background, and eventually left us to go home, or in search of their own “Mr. Right Now.” We found ourselves in the middle of a bunch of strangers at a bar talking Star Trek. I told you she was a nerd. We left the bar before midnight for my place with a detour to pick up a pack of Salem Slim Lights.
The kissing started as soon as we entered my apartment building, a little bit more necking once inside my door, and I walked her to the bedroom. She didn’t hesitate at all in stripping, and was on her knees, tugging my pants down and slamming her mouth over my dick. I got big very fast, and she commented favorably. I gently pulled her to her feet and guided her to the bed, warning her that I came a lot. Carmen sat on the edge of the bed, and when I joined her, she jumped me, sealing her mouth to mine, and rolled on top. She eagerly mounted me with a gasp, urgently rolled her hips for a couple of minutes and came. As soon as she recovered, she was fucking me some more, with the same urgency, and she had another little orgasm. My dick stayed solid iron, and she moaned, “Ohhh, shit you’re great!” She leaned forward, pinning my shoulders to the bed, and started bouncing up and down. It didn’t take very long before the welcome tingle told me I was on my way to coming. I could have rolled her over and plowed her, but she kept sliding herself up and down on my pole and it felt real good. I groaned her name, and in response, she panted, “Ohh, baby, come in me!” I did. A lot. Her juices mixed with my cum to run down my cock and pool in my pubes. Carmen snapped her hips back and forth and somehow brought herself to another orgasm before I went soft.
There’s a big gooey mess on the bed and in my groin, Carmen is lying next to me panting, and I’m barely out of breath. “Ohhhh... Wowwww…” she happily sighed. “Can I have a smoke?” I said sure, and she left the room on shaky legs, returning a couple of minutes later. She stood in the doorway and took a puff with a little snap-french inhale, looking very cute. “What is it you do at the science center?” I told her I was one of the astronomers on staff. “Wow that’s way cooler than what I do,” she said, telling me what she did while she finished her smoke. “I’m not finished if you aren’t,” she purred.
Carmen describes her younger self as, “a horny little nerd prone to risky sexual behavior.” She hadn’t ever had a relationship, but, as she puts it, “I could always find a guy when I needed one.” She didn’t leave until late the next afternoon, and her closing act was having me come in her mouth. She opened it to let me see the last of my cum before she swallowed, and smiled decadently afterwards. It turned me on so much that, if I’d been a teenager, I probably would have gotten hard again. “Maybe I’ll see ya around some time,” she casually said at my door, cigarette in hand. Totally infatuated, I told her I’d like that, and she left.
When I came to my senses that night, I realized I never got her phone number, and figured that was the last I’d ever see of her. Three weeks later, I was playing pinball in the same bar (I’m a creature of habit) and heard her say, “Hi Marvin! Remember me?” I let an easily playable ball drain. “Ohhh, did I make you lose?” I told her she merely interrupted an assault on my previous high score, and it was way better to see her again. Carmen smiled, “I hoped you’d be here,” and dragged easily on a menthol More Light 100. “Wanna go to your place? No stops tonight.” The sentiment behind her smile changed, and even clueless me could see what was on her mind.
Same activity, same position as before, she driving herself to orgasm on my cock, her slick inner velvet shooting thrills all over my body through my dick. I wasn’t going to last, but when I started to make noise, she popped off me and began to suck and jack, purring around my cock. I groaned loudly; Cece and May had done this to me, but for some reason, it was much more intense with Carmen. When my cock detonated, she sucked most of it down before hastily moving to my face and kissing me feverishly. It was done so quickly that we kissed for several seconds before I realized I was also tasting my own cum; she hadn’t swallowed everything. I was revolted—until she pulled away and I saw the glitter in her eyes as she vibrated with excitement. It made the experience incredibly erotic. She purred and told me I tasted good. I said I’d enjoy returning the favor sometime. “Cigarette first,” she coyly smiled, pulling the pack of More Light menthol 100’s from her purse.
A cigarette, some water, and a bathroom break later, Carmen was leisurely rolling her hips over my midriff, my dick hard and in her pussy. “Ohhh, I just love your dick…” she sighed. I felt the same; best pussy I’d been in. The way she fucked me from above was exciting, mentally and physically, and it kept me hard without getting to orgasm. I watched her eyes roll and flutter, her face redden, and felt her pussy fibrillate while I just laid there, not even close to coming. Carmen got all of hers before slowly dismounting and melting onto my bed with a gasp and a groan. I was still rigid, but she fended me off with outstretched arm and a worried expression. “Give me... a minute,” she panted. “Came... too much.” I knew she wasn’t lying, having seen and felt every one of her orgasms, and figured a girl who gave blowjobs and ate cum as freely as she did wouldn’t leave me with blue balls.
I was right. After a bit, she reached over and gently grasped my almost-flaccid dick. Instead of jerking furiously, she gently began to play with my cock. This was different, and it noticed, waking up quickly. She continued rubbing and it grew to its full size. Carmen licked the head and excitedly breathed, “I wanna see you come… I wanna taste you… I wanna feel your cum on my face, in my hair, all over.” She purred throatily and my dick danced for her. She licked the crown and the rim and the shaft, occasionally taking me into her mouth, never bobbing her head too long, bringing me slowly towards orgasm. The trip was almost worth the destination, “I love it when you come…” She ran her finger along the shaft, and licked the crown. The burn came from out of nowhere, and my first spurt arced high, landing in her hair. The next blast was on her face and ran down her nose. I lost my sight after that, regaining it only after my dick started to drool even more cum. Carmen was busy cleaning up the spooge, licking her fingers after sweeping it from her face. “You taste really good,” she smiled, rose in her cheeks, and her eyes saying she wasn’t finished. Unfortunately, I was, but she spent the night and was rewarded with long, loving head the next morning. I asked for her phone number, but she declined, saying two nights weren’t enough for that. “But you hang out at that bar, right?” I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment behind a smile. “I know where to find ya!” she brightly rejoined, kissing me at my door.
I saw Carmen every other week for the next month. She’d find me at my hangout, we’d leave for my apartment and spend the whole night having sex. She avoided giving me her phone number and having me fuck her from anywhere but beneath, but she bounced on my dick so well and smoked all-white (and beige) menthol 100’s between rounds of sex with such fetching cuteness, I was happy to overlook it. Frankly, she saved me from having to chase women, and I got a lot of rocks off. I’d never met a girl so eager to have me come in her, on her face and in her mouth, and she always swallowed. It was erotic. Finally, I asked her out after one of our more physical rounds of sex. She said I could take her to brunch the next morning—after we slept in. Carmen tried to start something that morning, but I refused, insisting on taking her to brunch. I did most of the talking because she seemed genuinely interested in astronomy, and I was still an astro-nerd.
“It’s only one in the afternoon,” she purred when I dropped her off at her car. “You wanna spend some more alone time? I usually don’t go to bed until midnight.”
“Carmen, would you consider… dinner and a movie next Friday? I really enjoyed going to brunch and talking for a change.”
She looked surprised, and I waited for the rejection, hoping I hadn’t destroyed my sex life. I would miss Carmen’s sweet nastiness. “Next Friday? Can we see Real Genius?” she asked.
“Sure!”
Carmen hopped out of the car and brightly confirmed, “It’s a date! I get home around six, so I’ll pick you up at six-thirty!”
She showed up Friday night, smoking Virginia Slim Light menthols and acting more like a nerdy teenager than the predatory, sex-hungry pick-up artist I’d known. Over dinner, Carmen talked about finally getting her doctorate, and how this was home to her now. When I asked where home was, she only said, “Rural, and I do mean rural, Nebraska,” and asked about my hometown. I told her this was the only job offer I got after my master’s degree, and I needed to pay off some student loans before attempting a doctorate. The movie was fun, and we left holding hands. We wound up in a nearby bar, playing pinball and talking until it closed. Carmen snap-french inhaled every drag from her final Virginia Slim Light menthol, and my half-hard dick told me to think about continuing the night.
She made no move to kiss me. “Marvin, I’ve had a great time tonight, but it’s getting late, and I’d like to go home now,” she said. My visions of her riding me evaporated. “Maybe we can do this again… tomorrow? I’ll even let you pick the movie.” We dated Friday and Saturday for a month without sex, or even kissing. Carmen was obviously very smart, charming, engaging, and she smoked beautifully, almost split evenly between menthol More Light 100s, and Salem Slim Lights, with the occasional menthol Virginia Slim Light, or Benson and Hedges Ultra Light mixed in, and I was in love. Although her sudden reluctance towards sex confused me, I never pushed the issue, not even hinting that I wanted a kiss. Carmen had gone from nymphomaniac to ice queen.
I asked her to an employee event at the science center during the week. I needed a date, and she was always good company, as well as the only candidate. We had a great time; Carmen asked a lot of questions at the planetarium show, most of which I answered for her and the crowd. Afterwards, we grabbed a drink at a quiet bar. She lit a Virginia Slim menthol 100, and slowly snapped a ball of smoke into her mouth. I was mesmerized, and she noticed. Suddenly, her eyes got the glow they had the first night we’d met. “Y’wanna visit tonight?”
I missed work the next day. My sex-starved vixen was back. Now, however, we talked after sex, and not about having more sex. It was so… easy and natural with Carmen. Almost three months after she picked me up in a bar, I was watching her smoke a More Light, naked, in my bedroom. She exhaled a long line of smoke, her head tilted back, legs stretched out, back arched, cigarette between her fingers. It was sheer smoking poetry. “Carmen… would you want to be… my girlfriend?”
She leisurely turned her head to face me, and took another long drag, snapping a ball of smoke into her lungs. After a brief pause, she lifted her head, pursed her lips, and sent another long trail into the air. Only after she finished, did she smile and husk, “Of course.” Carmen gently grasped my reawakening cock and stroked. I was hard by her last exhale, and she mounted me, riding to another two orgasms, before I flooded her pussy. Carmen climbed off, spooge leaking, and cuddled next to me. It was by far the most intimate moment we’d had since we met.
With the crazy sex and her apparent boyfriend test out of the way, things became more normal. We spent most of our time together out of bed. We cooked meals for each other, went to plays and the symphony, browsed used bookstores for science fiction, and played pinball. I taught her how to throw darts, she taught me how to bowl. It was a great feeling when she introduced me to her bowling teammates as, “my boyfriend, Marvin. He’s an astronomer at the science center.”
That isn’t to say the sex wasn’t spectacular. She didn’t lose her affinity for my cum, remaining just as hot and nasty as she was when I was just her favorite fuck. Carmen loved to suck my cock until I came in her mouth or on her face or tits. Sometimes that was all we did, especially on work nights, sometimes it was the start or finish of a night of riding me to orgasm. However, I had never actually fucked her, me on top thrusting madly away at her silky, wet pussy. That all changed the Halloween after we’d been exclusive for about three months.
We went to a costume party, and I went as Luke Cage. Carmen dressed as Emma Frost, the White Queen of the Hellfire Club. She pinned her hair up and wore a wig, even padding her B cups under the white vinyl bustier. A white cigarette holder, about five inches long with a line of rhinestones along the bowl and Nat Sherman’s black and gold six-inch Casinos completed her outfit. At the party, it quickly became obvious I wasn’t the only one who thought she was HOT. Guys were hitting on her left and right, even to the point of pissing off the women they were supposedly with. All the attention seemed to freak Carmen out, and she spent the night literally within a few inches of me, except for her bathroom trips, where I only had to stand outside the door and wait for her.
I didn’t think anything of it. Being constantly in the presence of my girlfriend let me watch every single, glorious, stylish puff from her exquisitely long black and gold cigarettes in her cigarette holder. By the end of the party, insanely horny was an understatement of how I felt. As soon as her door closed behind us, I kissed her hungrily and we kept kissing while I walked her into the bedroom. We kissed while I undressed her, stopping only when I freed my rock-solid dick. I gently pulled her to the bed, kissing some more and easing her onto her back. She was panting softly, encouragement and desire in her eyes when I climbed on top and entered her. She was wet and ready; she moaned, wrapping her arms around me. I was extremely excited, and ended up thrusting madly at her after the first few loving strokes. Carmen didn’t complain, ask me to stop, or even to take it easy on her. She moaned, groaned, and her body moved to spur me on. I didn’t last long, and Carmen grabbed my head and kissed me in a frenzy, triggering her orgasm even as I shrunk inside her. We finally separated, she happily breathed, “Wowwww…” and that was the last thing I remember from that night.
Things got strange after that. We stopped spending nights together, even on weekends, and sex dwindled to an occasional oral session. I could have sworn there was more in Carmen’s eyes, but it was almost as if her brain told her body to forget it, to the point where she was even reluctant to let me eat her out. My super-hot girlfriend continued smoking sexily, but I was more often left with blue balls than not, and it was getting old. Even though Carmen was the most serious girlfriend I’d had, and she was a sexy smoker, I was beginning to think it was time to get out of this relationship. It was no fun having a girlfriend who turned you on and left you there. I could jerk off to the memories of any number of sexy smokers I saw for free. I came home one Wednesday night to see her waiting for me. It was unusual for us to see each other early on a Wednesday; she had a standing appointment for something she never specified. That was easy to overlook when she was making me come on a frequent basis, so I’d never asked.
“Hi,” she half-heartedly greeted. I returned her greeting with indifference. She immediately asked, “Would you be willing to come with me tonight?” sounding worried.
“Where? Why?” I responded.
“Just… will you? I mean, just trust me and come?”
Whatever it was, it sounded important that I go, wherever it was, and for whatever reason. Out of genuine, nice-guy concern, I left with her. It was a short, but quiet ride full of mixed cues, as if she wanted me there, but at the same time, she didn’t. We parked at a nondescript office building. She hesitated before timidly asking me to follow, and led me to an office door that said, “H. Monet, M.D., Ph.D.” She rang the bell, and fifteen seconds later, a woman about my height with gray-streaked black hair opened the door. “Hi, Dr. Monet, this is my boyfriend, Marvin,” said Carmen with more confidence than she’d shown all night. Why did my girlfriend bring me to meet her shrink?
“Hello, Marvin,” she said in a low throaty voice, explained by the scent of cigarette smoke hanging in the office. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and it’s good to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to chatting with you.” Noticing my obvious worry, she added, “Everything Carmen’s told me is good, I assure you.” She directed Carmen into one room and told her to relax and settle in, and led me into another room. She explained that Carmen wanted our relationship to progress, and was aware of how her withdrawal threatened that. “Carmen brought you here to explain why she is the way she is. My office has been her safe place for eleven years. Over the next hour, I learned many things about Carmen and her past, and that her random quirkiness wasn’t random.
Back at my apartment, she said, “Helene has been telling me I need to embrace your sexuality, too. But now you know why. We cuddled silently on the sofa, kissing occasionally, and then our kisses became more frequent and more passionate… I was on top of her in my bed, and she joyously yelped in happy agreement. It felt good to be doing the fucking and to be able to send myself to orgasm at my own pace. She wrapped her arms around me and encouraged me physically and verbally, spreading her legs as wide as she could, moaning, whimpering, groaning, and crying while I plowed into her without restraint. We came together for the first time, simultaneously screaming nonsense, she clawing my back while I tried to ram through her. Nothing was said for a while afterwards. She kissed me gently, sweetly, almost timid. “You know I love it when you cum,” she said, scooping some of my load out with her fingers and sucking on them. “It really turns me on.” She lit a Salem Slim Light while she waited for my recovery. “Is there anything I can do to really turn you on?” Her cute snap-french inhale had returned, and a slow cone of smoke flowed through the small “O” in her lips.
Unable to think straight, I said, “You could smoke Mores—the long brown ones. You’re really sexy when you smoke, but that would make you super-hot.” I realized what I was saying halfway through, but couldn’t stop, and got ready for her to weird out.
Nonchalantly, Carmen said, “Oh, OK. I can do that.” I got hard just from thinking about it, and she took advantage of my sudden, unexpected excitement.
A week later, we were engaged, and married three months later to the day.