“OK, so I need to get laid,” I said to one of my fraternity brothers. Truth to tell, Lynda Naylor’s departure for another school at mid-semester had left me less than willing to chase women. Lynda was a cool chick; she wasn’t the greatest-looking babe (I wasn’t the best-looking guy, either), but she had a nice face, a gently rounded body, while packing a decent set of brains, and above all, she liked to laugh and loved to make me laugh. And she smoked Max Menthol 120’s. Back then, I didn’t know it was called a smoking fetish; I only knew that chicks who smoked the new, extra long cigarettes or all-white 100’s made me hot. And Lynda made me very hot because she was a glamorous smoker.
We’d met in Psych 400. Sex Education, and boy, did we ever educate each other! It had only taken two dates for us to wind up sharing our first post-coital smoke: her Max and my More. Unfortunately, her folks wanted her closer to home, at a local all-girls school. Somehow, her mother had wrangled a scholarship for her through some local connections. Free tuition and closer to home, which was almost 1000 miles away, beat any argument she could have made for staying. We chose, with mutual regret, to end it completely, culminating in two days of marathon sex after our last final, before her folks came and got her.
With Lynda, I’d had quality as well as quantity. Getting laid wasn’t an issue. This was pre-AIDS, and the precursor to the “me” generation. There were plenty of willing participants on campus, and while I wasn’t gorgeous, I wasn’t ugly, and I was charming, sweet, and as Lynda put it, “had a gleam in my eye that said volumes about how well I could do the horizontal tango.” I’d gotten with a Virginia Slim Light Menthol smoker after an open party at our frat house that first week. It was… oddly disappointing. Yeah, I got off, and I think she did, too, but there wasn’t any connection and she definitely couldn’t hold a candle to Lynda. A week later, another Virginia Slim girl, and an equally unfulfilling experience. I became celibate. In our fraternity house, that made me stick out like a sore thumb. The guys worried about me. That’s why the subject came up while a group of us were sitting around the great room drinking beer in the house one evening. I missed it, but frankly, I had rearranged my priorities and my grades were better because of it. I was a shoo-in to return to the Dean’s List, instead of the narrow misses I’d had since meeting Lynda. I was also horny. “But… I don’t really feel like putting in any effort to get laid, either,” I said. “I think I’m a little sexed out.”
“You’re Lynda’s-not-here-anymore-out, if you ask me,” Bud Carter said. Bud was the house champion when it came to bedding women, and somehow, none of them wound up angry with him. He was a legend among all the fraternities, a true BMOC who knew all the angles with respect to women and school rules and school authorities. “But if you don’t want to put out any effort, we’ll invite the Xi girls over, and you can have Easy Edie. I’ll make sure that none of the other guys bogarts.”
The Xi girls were a sorority from an all-girls college in the area. “Easy Edie” was Edith Kowslowski, a blonde freshman who, released from the eyes of her parents and small town in North Dakota, had gone all in when it came to sex. She had managed to get a reputation in a little more than a semester. According to everybody who had been with her, it didn’t even take any inhibition-lowering substance to get her ready to lay. Five of the guys in our house had nailed her; she had only been to the house three times. She had plenty of physical flaws: her nose was a little too big, she had an overbite, and there was something about her eyes that made them seem mismatched. She wasn’t ugly, though, and she still carried her baby fat. She didn’t smoke as far as I knew, but that wasn’t a problem; to me, it’s the difference between really hot and hot. Maybe I was a little buzzed that night, or maybe I was just plain horny. I took Bud up on it, he made a phone call, and Friday night, the Xi girls were comin’ to visit.
Bud greeted the girls at the door, some more—personally than others. I stood a little behind him, feeling a tad uncomfortable at watching him make out with four of them, but when Edith came to the door, he stood aside, and introduced her to me. “Edith, this is Gary. He’s the smart one.”
The first thing I noticed was that she didn’t dress like a slut. “Oooh! I like smart guys! Can you help me with my Calculus?” she brightly asked.
“Tonight I’m off, but sure, I can help,” I said. “Wanna beer?” She accepted and I led her to the keg. After she had a couple of sips, she reached into her purse, pulled out a cigarette, and asked me for a light. I lit it, allowing me to surreptitiously determine that it was a Marlboro light 100. She took a carefree drag, and tilted her head up before exhaling a flowing cloud. She became more interesting at that point. We talked about her hometown, her major, and what brought her so far away from home.
“NDSU was a lot like home. I wanted to get away, and I got a scholarship here. This wasn’t home, and it’s in a big city, and well, I thought I could learn a lot more here. At least that’s what I told my parents.” Scholarships taketh away, and scholarships giveth. “You wanna dance?” she asked after one last drag. She went for a fresh beer after we’d been on the dance floor a while, asking me for another light. I managed to keep my voice steady as she smoked, but with the light the way it was, her thick, fluffy exhales were lit to near-perfection. I needed a cigarette myself, so I pulled out a More. I smoked Mores because if anybody in the frat wanted to bum a smoke, I was the last person they’d ask. “Oh, those look so cool! Can I try one later?” she asked as smoke trailed from her mouth from her last drag. “I just finished this one, but I always wanted to try one of those.”
Easy Edie lived up to her name; the party had barely slowed, but by eleven p.m., she was hanging on me with an occasional nibble on my ear and fondle of my crotch. I’d been with her the whole night, and I knew that she wasn’t drunk; she’d switched to the non-alcoholic punch after that second beer and been obviously uninterested in any of the other guys who had approached. We went to my room at 11:30 and were naked before midnight after a brief, but hot session of making out.
She got her chance to try a More after we’d finished round one. I didn’t know it was round one until she went for her purse and found an empty pack of Marlboro Lights. “Shit! I’m out. Oh that’s right, I was gonna try one of yours.” I cautioned her that it was menthol, but she just shrugged, got out of the bed, and pulled one out of the pack on the desk. She lit it herself, and did a big, slow, snap-inhale. She held the smoke for a little while, and then exhaled quickly. “Wow… Not bad, but they’re stronger than mine.” I could only nod. She took another drag, being a little more careful, and then exhaled a thick line of smoke. She posed, holding the cigarette near the end between her fingers at a slight upward angle, her arm slightly bent. “So how do I look?” She took another drag, but the dimmed light in my room didn’t do as good a job of illuminating the exhale as at the party. Nonetheless, I felt myself thicken. I nodded in approval, but she took another posed exhale without waiting for a verbal response. “This kinda makes me feel like I need one of those cigarette holder thingies,” she giggled. “Wouldn’t that just be so cool?”
“You look fuckin’ awesome without one,” I said, unable to keep the thought behind my lips.
She turned and her attention was captured by my erection. “Again? Cool!” was all she said before putting the More out and landing on the bed. She kissed me hard, smoke still in her mouth. Round two was about to start.
Round three was prompted by another half of a More. She finally did get to finish a whole one after that. I was fucked out. “I wasn’t joking about the calculus. Can you really help me?” she asked. I told her sure, I could help. She gave me another deep kiss before snuggling against me. If she was trading sex to get help with her calculus, I figured I came out ahead on the deal.
She left the next morning to a few hoots from my fellow frat brothers. I felt a little bad for her, but she turned and blew them a kiss while winking at me. I had just joined the list of guys who’d bagged “Easy Edie.” The good-natured jeers I had to put up with over the weekend were just a fact of frat life. But she’d left with a pack of More Menthols in her purse, and a promise to visit me again. I was looking forward to it. Sure, I lusted after her, but there was something else about her that I couldn’t quite place, something that had already made me begin to forget about Lynda.
There was a knock at my door the following Thursday. “Yo, Gary… you got com-panyyyyy,” Ted, one of my frat brothers sang. I yelled that it was open, and in walked Edie, wearing glasses, books in hand. Ted gave me a knowing smirk as he closed the door… slowly. I had flashbacks from Friday, and forgot about my own studies.
“Hey, Gary. Can you help me tonight?” Edie asked. “My homework’s due tomorrow and I don’t get this.” She was different tonight, all business, but still looking awful damn good.
I pulled the second chair in my room up to my desk, sat in it, and said, “Show me what you got.” We worked through her previous assignment and practice problems, and then I made her do some more problems. The sex, everything was forgotten, as she chewed gum throughout. I watched her work the last question in silence, obviously concentrating, focused on getting the answer. After about five minutes, she leaned back in the chair, a smile filling her face. “You got it,” I said, recognizing the look. She nodded triumphantly. It was three hours after we’d started. She wasn’t stupid, either.
“Thank you so much!” she said as she hugged me. “You are so much better at explaining this than our TA! I’ve gone to all the help sessions, but it wasn’t making any sense.” She gave me a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “Thanks again, Gary.” Edie leaned back in the chair. “Oh, could you hand me my purse?” I did, and she pulled out a More Menthol. I lit it before she could ask. “Thanks! I bought my own after that pack you gave me.” She exhaled, and the lust hit me from out of nowhere. She looked even better smoking with her clothes on, reclined in my desk chair. She was a natural, elegant smoker. The hold, the head tilt before the exhale… I reluctantly dragged myself back to reality. “I like these. I think I like menthol better, too. They’re so long…”
And so sexy between your fingers. “I still think I need a cigarette holder,” she said, half to herself. “These just look so… classy.” Suddenly, she swiveled her chair to face me. “Gary, you’ve been really great about this. Most guys would be pawing me by now, expecting… I dunno… Payback. I know I’ve got a reputation, but… it’s nice to find a guy who can keep his mind off of that for a while.”
“Edie, would you like to ummm… go to dinner tomorrow?”
She began to talk, exhaling smoke with her first words. “A date? A real, live—” She exhaled the rest of her drag quickly. “—Date???” I nodded. “I’ve never been wined and dined,” she giggled. “Maybe smoking does make me look more grown-up. Sure, Gary. I’ll go out with you.”
Bud shook his head at me before I left. “Dude, you fall in love too easy. This is Easy Edie we’re talkin’ about. You’ve had her; she’s gonna move on, and you should too. As far as she’s concerned, there’s hundreds of guys she hasn’t got to yet. What makes you think she’s going to stop at you?”
I didn’t have a real answer for that question. Was it misplaced hope, a hunger to be with a sexy More smoker, or the chance to realize some of my deeper fantasies? It wasn’t love. Not just like that. But still, any girl who smoked Mores… I shrugged, and said, “Just a hopeless romantic, I guess,” before closing the door.
We ate at a nearby pasta restaurant, two More smokers. Truth to tell, I watched more than I smoked. For a relatively new smoker, she sure was good at being sexy about it. She enjoyed the attention. I told her that I’d have to find her a cigarette holder because she talked about it so much. Her natural inhale was a slight french inhale. I was thick underneath the table, but ignored it. She had reverted to a nineteen year-old girl from a small town in North Dakota, not the brazen hussy everybody knew as “Easy Edie.” We talked about this and that, about how she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do social work or primary education. It was a pleasant evening.
After dinner, we walked back to campus, a ten-minute trip. It was too early to call it a night, so I asked her if she wanted to see a movie. She said that was OK by her. We took in the cheap campus flick, and Edie decided to snuggle with me, although the auditorium seats weren’t made for that.
“Thanks for the movie,” Edie smiled, lighting a More as we left. In the light over the hall door, I got a good look at her natural french-inhale, and the billowing cloud of smoke from her lips. It was awesome. Such poise and style from a nineteen year old! “It’s still early.” It was midnight. “Maybe we could go to… ummm… ummm… your room.” Our return didn’t go unnoticed by my frat brothers, but we managed to get past them after a few minutes of sexual innuendo and finally, we were alone in my room. “After that, I need another cigarette.” She waited for me to light it for her, taking a drag with a big snap-inhale. “Gary, I’m really flattered that you asked me out. I mean, I know I’ve got a reputation, and guys are gonna talk.”
“Let ‘em,” I replied, fascinated by the slow exhale.
“I—dunno—if you didn’t want to… I mean, I’d understand.” She exhaled again, chest rising, held tilted upwards. “But ummm… You’re the first guy I’ve ever… wanted to… ummm… Well, twice.” She took a short, nervous, puff, and let a quick, easily audible exhale go.
I walked over to her and gave her a deep kiss. “Let’s do this slow, Edie. I liked it last time, but I think we’ll both like this way better.” She exhaled one last drag, a big smile on her face, put out the More, and reached to take off her shirt. “No, Edie. Let me do it.” She giggled at that, but complied. I undressed her slowly, kissing her newly exposed skin. I gave her a deep wet kiss when she was naked.
“Is it my turn?” she asked, her voice low, soft, and throaty. She returned my attentions in kind, and we fell to the bed. Edie went for my cock, taking it in her mouth. “I only do this if I really like a guy, Gary,” she explained. Her inexperience showed, but her effort was charming. I thought she was sweet for trying to show me that I was special, because I was ready enough. However, I was willing to bet she’d never gotten head.
At 17, I dated a French exchange student who had smoked Nat Sherman’s brown Havana Ovals mostly, complaining, “Everybody smokes Marlboros, and they don’t care that Nat Sherman makes the best cigarettes in the world.” Angélique was rich, but not snobbish, and wild compared to the girls I’d dated before. In addition to being the girl who allowed me to realize that I had a smoking fetish (although I didn’t know that’s what it was called back then), she gave me my first real blowjob (swallowing and all), as well as being the first girl to let (urge is actually a more accurate term) me fuck her in the ass. However, the most important role she played in my life was that of my cunnilingus teacher. I learned what made her feel good. I learned how to tell the difference between doing it just to be nice, doing it right, and doing it just right.
Lynda had told me that my skill at giving head was the “best-kept secret on campus,” one that she’d swore she’d never reveal. “I want to keep this all for myself,” she had said. She’d initially freaked when I started the first time. “Oh, you don’t have to do that… No, Gary, isn’t that a little… ummm… ummm… gross?” I didn’t let Lynda’s first protest stop me, and it quickly went from “No… you don’t have to,” to “Oh… that feels nice,” to stuffing a pillow into her mouth so the whole place wouldn’t know she was having multiple, major orgasms. Now it was time to show Edie a thing or two about sex.
Edie stiffened when she figured out that I wasn’t making a move towards entering her yet. “Relax, Edie. I like to do this.” She was speechless until my tongue made contact with her pussy. Her body jerked as if she was being electrocuted and she gasped very loudly. Taking that as approval, I settled in for a little more tutoring; calculus had nothing to do with this session. My face and sheets were soaked, and Edie’s chest was heaving afterwards. She resisted for a moment as I started to pull her legs apart again, but relaxed when I came to her face.
Her eyes focused. “Fuck me.” Then they rolled up into her head when I complied. We were kissing madly as our hips churned enthusiastically. I didn’t last anywhere near as long as I had wanted, but she was red-faced, flushed all over, and panting. Nobody said anything for a while. “Oh God, that was… incredible… Gary,” she finally managed, struggling to a sitting position. She grabbed a More from my pack and lit it. “Sorry… but I don’t think I can reach my purse.” She ran out of gas after our next round, my recovery quickened, and ardor enhanced by her More. “Gary, you are awesome,” she said the next morning as she left.
Nonetheless, she remained “Easy Edie,” however, and we only got together one more time before the semester ended. Being A Xi girl from the all-women’s college meant that she was going to a lot of frat parties, and that a lot of guys got their shot at her, and some of them scored. That was just the way things were back then. I had no reason to expect that she’d be exclusive, although I did hear from her after her calculus final; she’d gotten an A- and thanked me over the phone.
I was back for my senior year; graduate school loomed on the horizon. I didn’t think about Edie once during the first two weeks I was there; I was too busy applying for scholarships and trying to arrange my honors project. The first house party of the year happened on a Saturday; it was more like six house parties, all in a row. It was an open party; we were supposed to check for school ID’s to keep the high school kids out, but the authorities looked the other way when it came to students from other colleges. I was on door duty when I heard a voice call my name from the walk. “Hey Gary! Can me and my sisters get in, or is this a closed party?”
I looked; it was Edie… a year older, minus some of her baby fat. “Open. Come on in ladies!” I called back. Although nobody on the row would refuse entry to the Xi girls, the only reason eight girls were headed for our door was because Edie recognized me and chose our house. We hugged, respectfully. “You look great, Edie,” I said.
She gave me a peck on the cheek. “Thanks! I’m happy to see you made it back!”
“Same goes for me. How was your summer?”
She leaned close. “I’ll tell you about it when you get done working. Find me inside.” I did, about a half-hour later. She was being ogled by three freshmen, one of whom was obviously trying to hit on her. I watched her exhale smoke from an all-white. “Gary!!!” she exclaimed as I approached. She took my arm, and I could see the disappointment radiate from the freshmen. After brief introductions, Edie became less interesting to them for some reason, and they left us alone. “It was either them or Mike Stratford,” she said, naming one of my more glandular frat brothers. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” she shouted as the stereo was cranked up.
My room was relatively quiet. Edie plopped into the desk chair. I had a flashback of the night I helped her with her homework, and the relaxed More she had smoked. She put her purse on the desk and pulled out a pack of… Salem Light 100’s. Sigh. She lit it and french-inhaled. It wasn’t her natural, quick one though. This was a jaw-dropping, slow-motion, creamy, thick, french-inhale. She must have seen me stare. “I practiced smoking with a friend from high school over the summer. I’m gonna try to find a cigarette holder this year while I’m here.”
As fetching as that image was, especially with Edie’s new body, I was disappointed that she wasn’t smoking Mores or something 120 or at least Virginia Slims. “I see you stopped smoking Mores.”
She nodded. “You still smoke them?” I nodded. “I’ll have to have one of yours. These still feel too… short. I like the really long cigarettes.” She took another careful drag, same kind of french-inhale. “I love that,” she smiled. “Andrea n’ me think it’s sexy.” I agreed. “You’re so cool, Gary,” she smiled. “I wanted to find you as soon as I could. My mom had a cow when I got home. She didn’t like it that I started smoking, but she really hated the Mores. She said it made me look unladylike, like I was smoking a cigar. Then it was that they made me look cheap. Then she said it made me look like a whore, somebody who’d sleep with anybody. I put up with it for a month; Andrea didn’t like Mores either, so I started smoking her Salem Lights 100’s.”
“Oh. Well, your practice certainly shows,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
“Yah. Every chance we got we were at her place, smoking in front of a mirror,” Edie said, demonstrating her french-inhale again. She tilted her head upwards, waited, then exhaled almost silently. The plume was long and narrow. My brain stopped working, starting again when she put the Salem out. We talked about my summer and what I’d been doing for a while until she asked me to go downstairs and get her a non-alcoholic drink.
She was smoking a More when I got back to the room. “I wanted one, but it’s kinda hard to french-inhale like the Salems,” she half-apologized. I shook my head. “Then a sophomore isn’t too… young for you?” I shook my head vigorously. Her demeanor changed. She walked over to me, exuding a sensuality that I hadn’t seen before. She put her arms around me. “I missed you this summer. You’re still the only guy I’ve been with more than once.” She took a drag from the More and put it out. We sat on the bed and started kissing. She was much more aggressive than she’d been the previous year, and I marveled at her body, familiar, but definitely not the same. The soft curves had been replaced by much tighter ones. She was nothing like Lynda. Edie grasped me, rapidly filling, stroking gently, while one of my hands began to play with her. She gasped, and began to bounce gently on the bed. She stopped playing with me long enough to rearrange herself and began to suck my cock.
As soon as I was hard, she moved again, slipping underneath my body, inviting me. I moved and entered her with more passion than lust. Her eyes turned wide as saucers before rolling up into her head, her back arched as she sighed loudly. Her legs swung upwards to lock around my lower back, and her arms drew me close to her. Our eyes locked as I began stroking in and out of her, only losing contact when we blinked or when her eyes lost their focus and rolled loosely in their sockets. I could feel her hips begin to snap up and down, and then they would vibrate as she threw her head back with a happy, soft, sigh. I felt huge… then immense… then my body burned white-hot as I began to fill her with cum. Lots of cum. More cum than I ever dreamed of having. It burned, near-painful pleasure as it passed through me into her, and she accepted all of it. And then we were panting, me rolling off her as her legs and arms lost their strength to hold me there, too drained to move much more than that by our respective releases.
We returned to the party unnoticed a couple of hours later. It was still in full swing; nobody felt pressured by classes yet, so this one wasn’t going to end at the official time of one a.m. As I said, it was another time, and the various authorities looked the other way. “Bye, Edie,” I smiled, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which she returned. Our good night went unnoticed among the other couples.
Edie changed sophomore year; she was a lot more picky and a lot less “easy.” We had a “get laid” party with the Xi girls, much like the one that had introduced me to Edie; this time the intended beneficiary was Jimmy, a pimply-faced junior and one hundred percent nerd. Edie was supposed to have gotten with him; instead, she talked with him for about a minute, and then came looking for me. “Bird dogging” was a serious crime, but Edie was obvious about being there for me. She lit a Saratoga menthol, saying, “They’re long, but I’m not sure I like them.” It looked awesome for a couple of drags, and then it looked like a Marlboro. She wasn’t always doing her practiced french-inhale this night, at least not until we wound up in my room alone, then in my bed. She smoked my Mores that night, and one again the next morning, and we wound up having sex for the third time in a few hours. She left a little later than she’d planned, but she didn’t complain; neither did I.
When the fall fraternity formal came around, I called her. She was really the only girl I’d been seeing, even if only occasionally. None of the sorority girls wanted to be near, let alone go out with, a guy who’d been sleeping with the “local slut.” Edie was still sampling, just being more picky about it, fewer guys, and as far as I knew, or had heard, I was still the only guy she’d ever done more than once. The “trains” and “gang bangs” had also apparently been left behind, but the reputation remained. I didn’t care. “Of course I’ll go to the formal with you!” she exclaimed.
I had worked all summer and bought an old Chevy from an elderly neighbor for a steal. It had been “gently used” over the previous five or so years, but he’d lovingly kept it in shape, even though he barely drove it. I drove over to the girls’ school. The girls who walked by the “greeting desk” at the dorm would giggle as I waited for my date, flowers in hand. Edie appeared, looking incredibly hot in a simple black dress. “These are for you,” I said.
She gasped, smiling brightly as she accepted them. “I gotta run these to my room!” and she took off. The woman at the visitors desk scowled at me, and then again at Edie when she returned. Edie was so happy that she failed to notice, but I did. The “guard” watched us, so our kissing was limited to a quick, chaste peck until we were out of her vision. I pulled off the street. “What’s up? Do you want a quickie or something?” she giggled. Her eyes grew wide when I presented her with a simple black cigarette holder. “Oh my god!!! You got me one!” She gave me a quick kiss, then grabbed my head and kissed me very hard, wet and deep.
I was hot, she was ready, and I… said, “Ummm… Edie… We’d better go to the formal now.”
I heard her take a deep breath. “You’re right. But I swear… if we weren’t all dressed up…” She reached into her purse and pulled out a brand new pack of Benson and Hedges Light 100’s Menthol and opened it quickly. She tapped one out and put it into the holder. “I’m gonna really like this,” she said.
Well, the formal wasn’t the best time for her. She used the holder once, shortly after we arrived, and one of the other girls said something about whores, loud enough for everybody around her to hear, including us. The girls at the formal were catty when they weren’t pointedly ignoring her. They managed to be civil to me—whenever I was by myself. I felt bad for Edie—I’d exposed her to this. We drove back in silence. When I turned onto the street leading to the girl’s college, Edie asked, “Don’t you want to go back to your room?” in a small voice.
I stopped the car. “Edie, I’m sorry they were so mean to you. I mean, I had no idea this was coming. And I didn’t ask you out just to… well, you know.”
“If that’s true… I am really flattered that you asked me to your formal,” she sniffled. “I thought the only reason you wanted to go out with me tonight was because… because… well…”
“No,” I stated flatly, saving her from saying it. “I like you. I brought you flowers because a gentleman should always bring a pretty lady flowers when he comes to call. I got the cigarette holder because you’d always mentioned you wanted one, and you were going to be dressed up, so I thought it was a perfect night for it.” Her sniffling stopped. “You’re very beautiful, you’re sexy—” I paused for effect. “—And you’re pretty smart for a Xi girl,” I grinned. “I asked you because you’re the only girl I’ve gone out with in two years who has made me forget my ex, who transferred to another school the semester I met you.”
“If I stop sleeping with other guys, would you… like, go out with me? Even if I am the local slut?”
“Yes. Frankly, I’m tired of sharing, and I’d like to see you a lot more.”
That night, I slept with Edith Kowslowski, from North Dakota. “Easy Edie” was no more.