Apparently, Mrs. Collier hit it off with my folks better than I could have dreamed possible. My dad liked her no-nonsense direct approach to the hard questions—even if I knew that I wasn’t going to be as closely chaperoned as he thought. I also knew that he wouldn’t mind, as long as I got back in one piece. Normally, my mother would have been the tough obstacle: Polly’s mom would have to convince my mother that I would be under adult supervision 24/7, that they had modern medicine where we were going, that it was safe to eat the food, and finally, that the foreign language barrier would not prevent me from getting the proper medical care in a timely fashion. As for me flying over the ocean, my mom would rather that I took a train, but she conceded that alternate means of transport were not only impractical, but also cost- and time-prohibitive. I warned Mrs. Collier about my mother’s protective nature, but a funny thing happened when they spoke for the first time: as soon as Mom heard the words “wedding in Paris”, she spent more time talking about the wedding than about my safety overseas. I told my folks that I would pay for getting myself to and from the departure point, and it was settled.
Now that I was an official member of the wedding party, I became a much more frequent visitor to the Collier house, even spending some weeknights there, albeit without sex because of Polly’s younger brother. One such evening, Polly had to pick her brother up from a friend’s house because Mrs. Collier had been on an important call, and she and I subsequently found ourselves alone in the house, sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of wine. “Al,” Mrs. Collier began, “this is the longest romantic liaison my daughter has ever had. I can tell that you make her very happy, and she does the same for you. But I’m a little worried that she may be going overboard. Polly has hinted that she’d like to take a year off from school so that you both graduate at the same time. Has she discussed this with you?”
I looked at her with shock. This was the first I’d heard of that, and told her so. She resumed, “I think it’s a bad idea, because so much can happen in the next—year. I would like to see her graduate on time, and if she still wants to continue seeing you during that time, she certainly can.”
I’d never thought of school without Polly, but she would have to wait an entire year for me to finish my own schooling. And a lot could happen in that year; Polly could find someone her own age or older, deciding that she was now too mature for a college kid. She’d have a lot more chances to meet people, since she would have more free time than I would, and so she could go out to nightclubs or with her work friends… I could lose her, and I didn’t want to.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Al,” Polly’s mother evenly requested.
“I’m thinking that she could find someone else between her graduation and mine,” I softly answered the woman who I had come to trust almost as much as my own mother. “Not that Polly would be out looking, but—sometimes it just happens.” I looked at the floor. “I know that I can’t be the only one who finds her attractive.”
“While I’m sure that’s true,” she replied, “if she really is the one for you, you know that she’ll be there at your graduation. I think that year of semi-separation is going to be very important for each of you to decide what you want to do with your lives, and if that will accommodate your relationship.” She sighed. “You can tell her that you’ll be waiting for her at the end of that year, but I firmly believe that both of you need to see what life without each other is like. And this certainly does not mean that you can’t see each other over that year. But being committed at such an early age… that’s how Polly came about. After Steven was born, I finally figured out that her father and I weren’t really made for each other—and with two young children and a career, it’s difficult to think about yourself.” She looked away. “Both of you will change a great deal in the next five years, and I don’t want her to figure out that it was a mistake, and then be forced to wait until she’s forty to be able to find the right man for the woman she’s become.”
I could see her point, but I also knew that Polly would interpret my agreement with her mother as all but asking to date other, more beautiful girls. Although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, I could tell that she still had trouble believing that I preferred her to Maddie Haynes; somewhere deep inside, she refused to let go of the notion that Maddie was more desirable than Polly because she was prettier. I knew because every time we ran into Maddie on campus, Polly would turn glum for several hours afterward. “Mrs. Collier,” I said, “I know this is going to sound bad, but if I say anything about this to her, Polly’s going to think I’m trying to get rid of her because I want to date other people.”
Mrs. Collier looked at me with surprise. “You’re certain about this?”
“Polly is—afraid—that I won’t want to be with her if we’re apart for any amount of time. I can tell her that’s not true all I want, but it won’t change her mind.”
Lights shined in the driveway, and she quickly said, “Thank you for your honesty, Al. I won’t push you.”
The subject finally came up a few weeks later as Polly and I were having dinner at our favorite restaurant before heading to the love nest to celebrate her return from France, the end of midterms and our corresponding involuntary celibacy. I pointed out that whether she graduated next year on schedule, or waited to graduate with me, we were still going to be out of sync, because she would not be a full-time student for at least one year while I was still in school. “But what if we—moved in together?” she asked.
“You know I can’t afford it,” I sighed. “The terms of my scholarship say that I get room and board only if I stay in the dorms.”
Polly pouted. “With you coming to France and all as my—boyfriend,” she said, “I just thought it would be nice if we could stay together.”
“Polly,” I replied, “we are together. To tell you the truth, I’m worried about you finding somebody else over that year. You’re older, you have more opportunities to socialize away from school, and you live here. I’m afraid that some other guy you run into is going to see what I see in you, and you’re going to go with him, because he’s always here, and I’m not.” I saw her blush; then a funny look crossed her face, and then she opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “Enough about Maddie,” I sighed. “She’s not interested in me the same way you are. More to the point, she doesn’t interest me anywhere near as much as you do.”
“But she’s so pretty, and she smokes…” Polly protested.
I shook my head. “Sweetheart, if you aren’t confident enough in your attractiveness compared to other girls, at least give me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my attraction for you.” I sighed in exasperation. “Remember, I walked away from Maddie Haynes when you came to pick me up that day. She gave me a pretty good come-on, but you’re the girl I’m in love with. It takes more than a pretty girl, a smile, and some sex to keep me interested for more than a night. And you’ve got what it takes.”
Her eyes went starry, and she shyly looked away from me, a gesture that I’d come to know as being extremely pleased. Polly reached out, took my hand, and leaned forward. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” she very softly whispered. “I’ll do anything you want, for as long as I physically can, Al.” She lit a More and dragged on it before slowly opening her mouth, and letting the smoke drift upwards and curl into her nose. There was a delay, and then she raised her chin, formed her lips into a tiny “O”, and silently blew. “I’m going to be very wet by the time I finish this cigarette,” she husked, too quietly for anyone but me to hear. She smiled sultrily in response to my noisy inhale.
Less than forty-five minutes later, we were in our room, our clothes carelessly strewn across the floor. “Uhhhh-ohhhh-ohhhh-uhhhh!” Polly softly whimpered, barely loud enough to cover the squishing sounds coming from her as she rode me. This was a new position for us. I was sitting upright braced against the headboard while she sat astride me with her arms around my neck. I could hardly move, but I’d quickly discovered that my passive participation allowed me to see the reflection of Polly’s pleasure in her face and body to a degree I’d never before experienced. Having been freed from thrusting, I watched my girlfriend orgasm from just a few inches away, and the look that filled her face immediately afterwards and just before she kissed me hungrily, powerfully, made her seem indescribably beautiful. She stopped moving with a blissful sigh when our tongues stopped dueling. Polly seemed content to remain sitting on top of me, regarding me with incredible tenderness, her arms still resting lightly on my shoulders. I still had no leverage to be able to move, at least not until Polly decided to shift her position, which she showed no inclination towards doing. Predictably, I began to soften, but remained silent, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment with words. Therefore, it came as a complete surprise when she leisurely reached over to the nightstand, retrieved a holder and a More, and patiently assembled it. My cock instantly stopped shrinking and began to grow, mirroring my increasing disbelief as my girlfriend calmly lit her smoke, seemingly oblivious to my pulsing cock inside her. She drew deeply on the holder, opened her mouth, displaying the smoke swirling inside, before quickly snapping any that had escaped back in with a roll of her tongue. She turned her head to exhale past my ear with a barely-audible “ffff.” I was enraptured, fantasy-bound, extremely excited, and extremely hard. And then she did the incredible. Polly gently, slowly, began to move her hips, while she drew again on the holdered More. My erection got harder, longer, thicker, and more sensitive. I looked at my awesomely sexy girlfriend, who was slowly fucking me with mischief in her eyes, her long smoke held vertically by her face, and I started making noises. Polly took another puff, opened her mouth, snapped the smoke in, and threw her head back to exhale. I saw the smoke begin to flow through her lips for a few seconds, and then I lost the ability to see, or speak, or think. All of a sudden, I was loudly gasping for breath, my hips were quivering, my feet were cramping, and the tingle that was my penis wouldn’t stop. Polly was still sitting on top of me, smiling with a mixture of satisfaction and love. “Did you like that?” I could only nod loosely.
She finally moved after my orgasm and aftershocks had ended, separating from me with a slurp. My pubic region was a fragrant, sticky mess. I didn’t care. “I liked that,” she purred, kissing me again, hungrily, tenderly, lustfully, but my responding kisses quickly lost their energy, and I fell asleep.
The next morning, I awoke to gentle kisses and breakfast in bed. Polly had gone out and brought it back while I was still out. I apologized for being so typically male, but was silenced by eager, deep kisses. After breakfast, and for the first time since we’d discovered the joys of sexual abandon in complete privacy, we put our hormones away and happily left our love nest for a day out.
We spent the morning at the local zoo, followed by lunch at the mall. I went shopping, not my favorite thing, with Polly, which made it bearable, and on occasion, downright fun, like when she tried out a hippie outfit with tie-die top and bell-bottom jeans to do a flower child impression. When she ran out of stores, she took me to the art museum, where we wandered idly, holding hands as we went, until six. Our day was capped by dinner at an eclectic sidewalk café. It was a nice, quiet end to a wonderful day, and I hadn’t really thought about sex all day, even when Polly, with a mischievous smile, demonstratively smoked an after-dinner More, after which, at my girlfriend’s request, we returned to our room.
“So what would you like to… do…” My voice faded as Polly reappeared from the bathroom with her long holder and a More, posing seductively for me. I cleared my throat and shifted the growing bulge. “I can guess,” I said.
“No,” she coyly smiled, “at least not yet.” She took another posed drag, affecting me more. “I want you to—read—something with me first.” Polly knew that she could get me to jump out of the window at a word for the promise in her posture and her eyes. She took a book from out of her overnight bag: it was one of the sex manuals we’d tried to use, purring, “Scoot over,” before perching next to me on the bed as I complied. I was rewarded with a well-lit, living diorama of “elegant lady smoker.” Setting the book down, Polly smiled, and said, “Page 122.”
“A Beginner’s Guide to Anal Sex” was the chapter heading. “I wanna do that. Tonight,” she whispered into my ear, punctuating her intent by running her tongue around my ear. She gave me a lingering smooch on the neck. I wasn’t sure about that; cunnilingus was one thing, but this was… Polly drew on her holder, french-inhaled slowly, and exhaled through her nostrils, and my dick swelled in my pants. “Let’s read it. Together.”
After reading about this newest sexual horizon, we undressed, and began to take the first steps towards it. I was on my knees with a bottle of lubricant in one hand, and Polly was on her hands and knees, facing me. “Are you ready?” I tentatively asked. She took me into her mouth with an eager hum, demonstrating her answer. I began to spread lubricant around her virgin pucker, hesitant to push my finger inside. My girlfriend began to rock and shimmy, trying to help me, while still giving me head. My reluctance manifested itself as an inability to get hard, frustrating both of us, so she stopped her ministrations and sat up with a smile.
“Al,” Polly gently said, “I know you’re afraid of hurting me, and that’s part of the problem, right?” I nodded. “But you know that I really, really want to do this.” I nodded again. She gave me a hot, hot, yet gentle, kiss and lightly fondled my cock, cooing, “I know what you like.” She climbed off the bed, rearranged the pillows, placed another More in the holder, and handed me the lighter. I lit her cigarette, and she took her first extended draw, punctuated with a long, flowing french-inhale. She titled her head, and exhaled in a near-perfect echo of her mother’s style. Despite realizing that she was using my fetish to manipulate me, I felt stirrings of significant arousal. That bothered me, but my visceral reaction continued unabated.
My adventurous girlfriend laid down on her stomach, with a pillow underneath slightly elevating her ass and performed another slow french-inhale. “Come on, Al...” she cajoled, smiling, “Come around front.”
I obeyed, still somewhat spellbound by Polly’s sensuality, and hardening. She took a drag and engulfed my cock, making my knees wobble as she exhaled through her nose. Polly pulled back, releasing my almost-full erection to cooling air, and cooed, “Be adventurous, sweetie. I want us to do this. If you’re going to fuck me tonight,” she breathed before bathing my cock in smoke, “you’re gonna hafta fuck me in the ass first.” With that, she resumed her smoky blowjob, sending even more blood to my dick. I continued to hesitate, worried about hurting Polly, regardless of her professed desire, and just a little—uncomfortable—with the act itself. Polly got tired of waiting while I waffled. Apparently somewhat peeved by my recalcitrance, she stopped fellating me, and just squeezed my dick. This was doubly uncomfortable, because while her tight grip was a little painful, it also insured that I would remain erect. It didn’t take long for me to capitulate with a moan. I leaned over her, and began to work the lubricant between her ass cheeks. It sort of took us both by surprise when my index finger found the opening and slipped in. I jerked, and she squeaked, reflexively squeezing my dick (OW!) with shock on her face. I slowly started playing with her asshole, and Polly started moving, moaning in approval. It wasn’t long before she let go of my cock and resumed a purposeful blowjob, interrupting her efforts often enough so that I never got close while remaining hard, and pretty soon, I was extremely ready to fuck.
We hastily positioned ourselves on hands and knees, I coated my cock with lubricant, and started to push into her ass. After what seemed like an eternity, the head was in, Polly was on the verge of hyperventilating, and I was possessed by the desire to go deeper. It was so different than entering her pussy! I began to thrust slowly at her, and after a little while, I was going deeper and deeper into her ass. Polly was an active participant, the initial tension in her body gone, replaced by gentle rhythmic rocking on her hands and knees accompanied by soft squeaks of pleasure.
Once I was able to get all of me inside of her, it didn’t take long for the first sign that anal sex was going to become a regular variant on our lovemaking. My girlfriend’s back turned red, her voice became deep and throaty, her body quivered for several seconds... and then she convulsed at the hips and with a loud, LOUD moan, she squirted. A few seconds later, she gasped, “Ohmygod! Al! Oh! Al!” sounding more excited, and more in heat than I’d ever heard. My own flood rushed from deep within my nuts, the tightness of her ass making my orgasm more intense, and I came, and came, and came...
It was sometime later. Polly and I lay on our sides, exhausted and in afterglow. “Was that...” I began, pausing to take a breath, “as intense for you as I think it was?”
“I’d kiss you if I could move right now,” she replied. “That was—fan-taaaas-tic.” nothing else was said for a while, but I gathered enough energy to reach for her and wriggled to snuggle against her. “We need to clean ourselves up,” she finally sighed. We started washing each other’s bodies in the shower, including the necessary genital area contact, which turned into necking and prolonged genital contact, at least until the water turned cold.
Polly lit a cigarette sans holder once we’d dried each other off. She was still damned sexy about it, and it began to have its usual effect. “So,” I started, trying to get my mind off of what she was doing, “what’s got you in such an experimental mood this weekend? See some X-rated French flicks during your trip?”
My girlfriend blushed furiously, something I’d never seen before. “Well…” She looked away, her face bright red. I waited, and she peeked to see if I was still paying attention. “Ummm… I kinda… ummm… saw—Mom and Claude.” I gaped at her. “It wasn’t like I was trying to spy on them or anything, but my mom is like this nymphomaniac around Claude, and they forget to close doors n’stuff,” Polly complained, sounding defensive. “I even caught them in the kitchen once. Eeeuuuwww! Anyway, she looked like those things were fun—I mean really fun—so… ummm… I wanted to try them to see if they were as good as they seemed.”
“And the verdict is?” I asked, fairly sure of the answer.
“Don’t wanna do it all the time… but the…” She blushed again. “…anal sex—was ummm… really, really good. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would… and then it started to feel good, and then…” Polly shivered, and her eyes rolled up into her head. “I’ve never… well… you know… done that—before. Ever.” Her nipples were hard, she was flushed, and her lips were slightly parted as her breathing became noisy, signaling that it was time for this discussion to end. I kissed Polly and we fell to the bed.
“So your mom is really into Claude,” I said the next morning over breakfast.
“Uh-huh,” Polly affirmed. “Maybe even more than I’m into you. If that’s even possible.” she sipped her coffee. “It’s kinda weird when he’s in town because they like—can’t keep their hands off each other. I get the feeling that if Steven and I weren’t there, they’d be having sex all over the house all the time. I mean, I’m really happy for my mom, and Claude’s a great guy, but sometimes I wish—”
“—That they’d be a little more discreet.”
She nodded vigorously in agreement. “It doesn’t help that Mom can get really loud,” she grinned, and rolled her eyes. I suddenly noticed that we were holding hands, and that her grin had turned steamy and wanton. “You know...” she began, “I think...” Polly stood up, fetched her long holder and a fresh More, lighting it before she returned and reclaimed my hand. She took one of those inflammatory, elegantly-posed drags, and I trembled involuntarily as the blood started flowing south. “Al,” she purred, “I think I just figured something out.” she took another carefully performed drag, and tilted her head back lazily for a languid exhale. Well on my way to arousal, I shakily asked her what she had figured out.
“I think,” Polly slowly said, “that Claude is a lot like you. I think he gets very excited when my mom smokes.” her voice had turned husky, making her sound as if she was getting ready to seduce me. “I just realized that my mom is using her holders a lot more, but usually, only when he’s around.” My seductress drew on her holder, exhaling only through her nose, something new to her smoking style. “He’s given her like five more cigarette holders since they’ve been going out and—ohhhh ICK!!!” The erotic spell she had been weaving disintegrated instantly, so I asked her what was wrong. “He bought me this holder!” she exclaimed, and looked at it with obvious conflict. She didn’t want to drop it, but was suddenly extremely uncomfortable using it. “Does that mean he’s been—getting—”
“No, sweetie,” I sighed, knowing that our silent “understanding” would have to be exposed now. “He didn’t buy it to watch you smoke with it, he bought it... well, for me, more or less. So that I could watch you use it. He knows about me. It was his way of... helping things along.”
At that, Polly’s distress evaporated. “Oh, OK. That’s fine.” She took the barely-smoked, no-longer-burning cigarette out of her holder, and looked at me. “So why are you blushing so much, Al? I mean, it’s not like I don’t know about it.” She waved the holder around. “And it’s not like I haven’t taken advantage of it without you knowing that I was. We’ve just never talked about it until now.”
“I dunno,” I admitted, feeling silly. “It’s just that—I feel—kinda like a weirdo when I think about how hot your smoking can get me.”
“Why? It got us together in the first place. I love the way you look at me sometimes, especially when I use the holder.” She sat down on the bed and patted it. “It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt—sexy,” she admitted. “And sometimes, the way you look at me makes me feel super-sexy.” the smile that memory brought to her face faded quickly. “And I think that’s why I’m so afraid of Maddie Haynes n’you,” she softly resumed. “I see you watch her when she smokes, and I wonder what it’ll take to get you chasing after her. I know she likes you. I can see it every time we run into her.”
I was dumbfounded. I knew that Maddie wanted to have sex with me again, but as far as pursuing a relationship was concerned, I thought that I didn’t rate a second glance from any sorority queen, and I told my girlfriend as much. Polly smiled, a sad one, and explained, “That’s what’s changed. She’s figured out that you’re a relationship type of guy, and she has to put up with you out of bed to get you in bed. That’s how girls like that think.” She paused, cocked her head, and gave me a strange look. “Al, out of curiosity, and if you don’t mind my asking, what the hell did you do to her?”
“I guess you’re thinking I dreamed up some magical sex method just for her that I’ve somehow managed to keep from you for the past two years in spite of the gigantic amount of sex we’ve had?” Polly said that she had wondered, and I sighed. “Truthfully? I gave her head ’til she came—like I do a lot with you, but I got the feeling nobody ever did that to her before,” I said as plainly, and as honestly as I could.
“That’s it?” she returned with disbelief. I nodded. “So what happens if she starts smoking Mores and using cigarette holders like me?”
“She’s not you,” I firmly replied. “Besides, truth to tell, you’re way better in bed and even more fun out of it. I’m in love with you. Maddie doesn’t register on that scale at all. She’s pretty, and honestly, I may look, but she’s not interesting beyond that.”
Polly regarded me for a minute without saying anything until she exclaimed, “You’re really telling the truth! You like me better than you like her.”
A big smile broke out on my face, because it seemed that I had finally convinced Polly to understand and believe what I’d been trying to tell her ever since we had gotten back together. I rolled my eyes and rejoined, “Took you long enough! It’s about time you realized that…” Polly had lit a fresh More in her long holder, and was exhaling slowly, silently, with a gamine tease in her eyes. “Ummmm… Polly… We have to… check out…” My girlfriend drew yet again on her holdered More with sparkling eyes, and slowly, smoothly, lifted her chin before exhaling a long stream of smoke through pursed lips. Fetish-bound, I watched her oft-practiced action with fascination and exponentially growing arousal, somehow managing to finish my thought, albeit in a quiet, panted breath, "... by noon."
“It’s only another eighty dollars,” she throatily countered with narrowed eyes and a lewd smile. “And then we have until noon tomorrow.” My girlfriend picked up the phone and quickly made the arrangements. Then she returned her full attention to her long cigarette in its holder, and me.