Daisy Marie Powell Woodford. We’ve had a relationship for almost forty years, and it’s still going strong today. Daisy is a year older than I am, and as embarrassing as it is for her to admit that she was drunk at the time, she was the first girl to touch me sexually (a hand job.) She was also the second girl I ever fucked—after working really hard to set me up with my first. Although we’ve never had a dating relationship, we’ve been fuck buddies off and on over the course of that relationship, even after I married—with my wife’s consent, no less. Hell, if it wasn’t for Daisy, I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to meet my wife in the first place. My friend is still beautiful, with her hair still golden-brown, and her womanly figure only slightly larger than it was when we first met. She has one of those faces that ages slowly and when we’ve been out at a nightclub or restaurant, she still gets men, some of whom are young enough to be her son, to look, and the boldest ones approach, thinking she’s twenty years younger. She can be jeans-and-beer casual or east coast debutante designer-gown-and-champagne elegant with equal ease and comfort, although she definitely prefers the former.
Our history began innocently enough. It was the summer of 1972, and I had passed the citywide test to compete for one of twenty-four scholarship slots available among six different private schools, along with about one hundred fifty other local kids. However, my father had been working for Daisy’s father in the mailroom at his company for years, and Mr. Woodford had heard my dad brag about me a lot over the years, so when he heard that I was a scholarship semi-finalist, he asked to meet me. Mr. Woodford was a trustee for one of the schools giving scholarships, so it was an opportunity to get a leg up on the competition, so to speak. The meeting was to take place at a party at the Woodford’s summer house. “Will, I want you to be on your best behavior,” my father said for the thousandth time since breakfast that morning. “Mr. Woodford can help you get that scholarship, and all of us know how much that could mean to your education.”
Mr. Woodford wasn’t stiff and boring and snobbish like I had imagined all rich people were. He liked sports as much as my family did, and confided that he enjoyed weekends because he didn’t have to dress up. I quickly realized that he had been listening when my dad would talk about me at the office. He made me feel comfortable, and so it was easy for me to talk with him about where I wanted my life to go, and how this scholarship would help. We spoke for about a half-hour and then he asked me if I had any questions.
I wanted to know what going to his school was like, and he replied, “I could tell you what it was like for me when I was there, but if I can find my daughter, she can let you know what it’s like today. She’s just finishing up her freshman year. Let’s see if we can find her.” We went outside to the huge deck that circled the house.
The first time I ever saw Daisy, she was pulling a Virginia Slim from her mother’s pack. She lit the cigarette before answering her father’s summons, casually snapping a ball of smoke into her mouth before lifting her chin and exhaling. “Hi! I’m Daisy!” she smiled, extending her hand, just as friendly as anyone could be.
I remember stuttering for several seconds, partially because she never lets me forget, but she was easily the stuff of wet dreams for my pubescent self—the most gorgeous, feminine human being who had ever deigned to speak to me to that point. Even at fourteen, Daisy had a waist that flared to her hips and a noticeable chest, but what impressed me the most was her obvious self-confidence. Nobody I knew would have the nerve to smoke in front of their parents, let alone take their cigarettes. Daisy was attractive, bold, and gregarious—everything I wasn’t. Her father asked if she would answer my questions, casually letting it drop that I would probably be a freshman there the upcoming year. “Sure!” she smiled, “give me a few minutes and we can go inside and talk.” Patiently, and in amazing detail, Daisy told me what and who to look out for, which teachers were good, and let me know that I had to play a team sport every season. Never once did I get the feeling that I was keeping her from her friends, even though she spent an hour inside with me. When we were finished, she introduced me to her friends as “Will. He’s probably going to be a freshman at my school next year,” before returning me to my parents’ company. The day ended with her telling me that she would be happy to see me at school. Yeah, right , I thought. She might have been willing to speak with me at her parents’ social gathering, but in the real world, I knew I was invisible to girls like her.
When school started, it was hell. Being the new kid, not rich, not a jock, but very smart, quickly placed me in the “nerd” group. I was referred to by the unflattering nickname of “Charity Case,” oftentimes to my face. Being small, there wasn’t shit I could do about it. That was when I found out that Daisy meant what she had said at the party. One day, a bunch of sophomores were giving me shit, trying to goad me into a fight that everybody knew I wouldn’t win. It was a group of the “privileged,” those who hit the trifecta of looks, athletic skill, and money, and used it to lord over those who didn’t have any of those things, like me. I was walking to the science building from gym, a path that took me past “The Wall,” where all the girls who smoked would hang out between classes. One of the group harassing me took a run at me, knocking me off my feet and driving me into a group of girls like a bowling ball, toppling a couple of them, including Daisy. The boys thought it was great fun. “‘Charity Case’ can’t even walk straight!” they laughed. Daisy calmly picked herself up as I stuttered mortified apologies to the girls.
“Not your fault, Will,” she softly said, loud enough for the group of girls to hear. “As long as you’re here, stand up so I can introduce you to everyone.” Daisy proceeded to do just that with the same placid self-confidence she had possessed at the party, telling her friends that my dad worked for hers, and as such, I was a friend of her family. The other boys stood watching, smart enough to know not to resume their game and interrupt her, finally leaving when the one-minute warning bell sounded. This just happened to coincide with the end of Daisy’s introduction, allowing me to make it to science class in peace. I didn’t know it then, but I had just been labeled as, “A Friend of the Most Popular Girl at School.”
It would be many years before I understood the concept of social intelligence, but if there had been an IQ scale for that specific trait, she would have been considered a genius. Even as a sophomore in an environment with a well-established, extremely traditional hierarchy, Daisy negotiated among all of the social circles, crossing age, social class, ethnic, and all the other boundaries inherent to every high school with seeming ease. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl at school, she didn’t have the best figure, she wasn’t the richest, or the smartest or most athletic, but she was certainly in the top third in each of those categories, and it allowed her to have everybody’s public respect—quite the accomplishment in high school. My connection to Daisy forced the sophomore bullies to be less obvious because picking on me impressed no one, least of all the popular, pretty girls who hung out with her.
The Woodfords invited my family to several of their gatherings that following summer—my academic achievement had impressed everyone at the school, and as my father said, it never hurt to have a mover and shaker in your corner, so we attended most of them. Daisy wasn’t at the first party—she was at some fancy summer camp, so I didn’t see her until the Fourth of July. “Will! Nice to see you! How’s your summer been?” she beamed, making me feel all warm inside as she shook my hand.
Her mother interrupted the moment, which was probably a good thing. After greeting me, she handed Daisy something, and her daughter brightly thanked her. “Come on around back,” Daisy addressed me, “there’s a bunch of us from school.” I found myself in the middle of a group of ex-sophomores, including a couple of the bullies. Before I could get worried, Daisy pulled something long and brown from the red pack of what I thought were cigarettes she carried, and a couple of her female friends gasped.
“What, you smokin’ cigars now, Daisy?” guffawed one of the boys while she was lighting it. Daisy drew on the cigarette, tossed her head, and exhaled skyward. Then she looked at the guy who had commented with an expression of utter disdain without saying a word. He stopped laughing within seconds, and she took her next long drag, once again lifting her head before exhaling. “I ran out of Virginia Slims. These are my mom’s—she smokes these Mores.” Two of the other girls asked for one of the Mores, one eager, the other somewhat hesitantly. I didn’t smoke at that point, but it was the first time I really noticed smoking… and I was affected. I watched Daisy and her friends smoke several times in silent, increasing arousal. Later that night, as I lay in bed, an image of Daisy with the long brown cigarette held at the end of a gaily-extended arm, her head slightly reclined, exhaling a long trail of smoke popped into my head… and my dick stood straight up. The image kept repeating itself, usually when I was on the verge of sleep, and masturbation quickly became a good way to relieve the tension. It was all I could do to not cum in my pants at the Woodford’s Labor Day party, especially when Daisy, her mom, and three of Daisy’s friends, all of them smoking Mores, had congregated and were talking about some male movie star.
That year, I made it a point to avoid “The Wall”; my penis seemed to have a mind of its own, becoming erect at the slightest inducement, and I didn’t want to give it any encouragement. As difficult as that was, Daisy and I shared two classes, and we talked almost every day, which would invariably leave me with an erection, and hours to go before relief. Daisy never reacted, but several years later, she told me that she always noticed and kind of enjoyed it. She also told me that was when she got the idea.
My first high school parents-are-gone-let’s-party occurred that fall. Jimmy Ford was the “host,” and it was held at a cabin in a wooded area, with no other cabins nearby. I rode with one of the juniors I had befriended, a football player who I was tutoring in two subjects. I knew that I was going to miss my curfew before I left, but I was willing to live with the consequences. Thanks to my friendship with Daisy and association with her friends, I didn’t have the reputation of being a nerd. It was well known that I had been invited, and that I had a ride if I wanted it. Therefore, I had to be social to avoid gaining that reputation.
I was out-of-place there. Kids getting drunk on cheap beer (I didn’t like the taste), kids getting high (no attraction for me either), and kids making out (extremely interested, but not a snowball’s chance of finding a prospective partner at the party no matter how drunk the girls got.) Nonetheless, I managed to find groups to speak with for a few minutes at a time, establishing my social presence. I wound up wandering outside after an hour or so, away from all the noise. It had been more of an effort to be social than I had thought, and the solitude was welcome. After looking into the dark, moonlit forest for a while, I worked up the nerve to see where the path went, but Daisy’s familiar voice called my name before I could walk away. “You goin’ for a walk?” I nodded as she approached, tongue-tied. “I need a quiet walk to clear my head. Mind if I tag along?” Of course not, walking wet dream of mine, I thought, squeaking yes. She giggled and leaned against me, admitting, “Yes, I’m a lil’ drunk.” Daisy leaned to my ear and breathed, “You won’t tell, will you?”
I assured her that my lips were sealed, and we headed down the obvious, well-groomed path. “There’s a lake here,” she explained. As we got closer, Daisy suddenly veered off the path and into the dark woods. “C’mere, I wanna show you somethin’ cool!” I had no choice but to grab her hand and follow. About ten feet off the road was a guard shack, lying on its side. “Used to be a fence all around the lake ‘cause it was private, but they knocked the shack over when they tore down the fence.” She got down on her hands and knees, and crawled through a nearly invisible opening. “Been here lots. I’ve known Jimmy since third grade.” She held her finger to her lips.
I cocked my head, but it quickly became evident why she had asked for silence. Soft moans and groans were emanating from the direction of the lake, less than 500 feet away. Daisy giggled, “Michelle McBain. I dunno who the guy is. I didn’t think you wanted to walk in on them, so I came here.”
After I commended her for her accurate instincts, she tossed me her lighter. “What’s this for?”
“A gentleman to light a lady’s cigarette,” replied Daisy, removing a Virginia Slim. Oh no, she’s gonna see! I lit it despite knowing what it would do to me, but she seemed not to notice my arousal. “I wanna thank you for giving me an excuse to disappear from the party for a while, and let me sober up a bit,” Daisy said, turning serious. “It also lets me—escape from a couple of boys without getting labeled a cocktease.” She took a long drag from the Virginia Slim, french-inhaling smoothly. “Dawn Stewart taught me how to do that. How did it look?”
“Kinda cool,” I equivocated, with my penis growing rapidly. Seeming pleased at that, Daisy repeated the action, effortlessly producing a long trail of smoke from her mouth to her nose, her face now fully illuminated by moonlight that had been temporarily obscured by clouds. “I hate smoke rings. Makes it look like you’re a pro at giving blowjobs,” she said. “Michelle McBain does’em really well,” she grinned. We talked in generalities for a few minutes while she finished her cigarette. The noise from the lake reached its crescendo, leaving me more uncomfortable than ever, and hoping desperately that Daisy wouldn’t notice. We remained silent until footsteps headed away from the lake crunched along the path. I had softened, and thanked whatever gods were watching over me that the moonlight hadn’t fallen on my lap. “So I’m guessin’ you’re not into beer or pot,” Daisy began as soon as we were sure that we were alone again, “and you don’t have a girlfriend or any prospects to make out with. So I’m curious. What brings you to Jimmy’s party?”
I explained how I thought this would help me avoid being labeled a nerd, pausing to light her next cigarette automatically without thinking about its effect on me. As for the girl thing, I explained that no girl at school would ever look at me that way—I was a nice guy, but the school genius.
“Will,” she said, after lazily releasing a long ribbon of smoke skyward, “you shouldn’t ever let your own estimation of your attractiveness keep you from talking to a girl. You might be surprised at the response you get.” She glanced downwards at my bulge. “I mean, I’ve noticed you looking at me—” She casually snap-inhaled a huge ball of smoke. “—at my house and on the wall at school.” Oh my god! I thought, horrified. She knows! Daisy’s hand landed on my crotch. “And I gotta say, it’s kinda—flattering.” Daisy leaned forward, and drew on her Virginia Slim, giving me a close-up look at her french-inhale before turning her head to exhale into the moonlight. My cock pulsed strongly beneath her fingers. “An’ I think I wanna thank you for the help with school—and the flattery.” Daisy unzipped my pants, removed my erect cock, and began to rub it. “Just don’t yell, OK?” Her eyes twinkled in the darkness with drunken mischief, and she drew on her cigarette again.
Her touch was pure electricity, and when she took another drag, as smoke began to flow from her lips, cum shot from my cock. I didn’t yell or scream as she had requested, but sighed her name deliriously as the reality far surpassed my nightly fantasies.
She smiled at me as I slumped further down the wall, drained, and gave me a smoke-scented smooch on the cheek. “Y’know, it’s kind of a bummer that our folks know each other,” she began. “That means we can’t ever talk about this—to anybody—ever.” She put her cigarette out. “It’s also too bad that you’re just a sophomore. See you at school Monday?” I could only nod weakly as she crawled out of the shack. I headed back to the party a few minutes later, but there was no sign of Daisy, although Michelle McBain did give me a funny, suspicious look.
I got home well after curfew. My mother gave me hell, and my father had a private talk with me. I think he instinctively knew that something sexual had happened and could understand why I missed curfew (for the first time in my life,) but my mother was pissed and rules were rules. Grounded for a month. It was worth it.
Back at school, Daisy showed no sign that anything had happened between us. Any infatuated looks I had for her were dismissed as normal; she was blossoming, and a lot of the boys at school looked at her like that. However, near the end of my punishment, something happened that took my mind off Daisy: Sharon Brown started smoking.
Sharon was a freshman, and a new student who had just moved to the area. She was very smart, kind of rounded without being fat, and had wavy light brown hair that never seemed styled, along with her purple-and-pink tortoise shell glasses. She was not particularly graceful physically, but socially, even less so, which immediately put her into the “nerd bin.” However, her approach to the problem of being an unpopular nerd girl was to start hanging out uninvited around the wall with the popular freshmen girls, which only underscored her social awkwardness. Of course, they all smoked, and so regarded Sharon with contempt as she didn’t smoke, but she kept hanging around them with stubborn determination, blissfully ignorant of the social taboo.
I knew who Sharon was because we both spent a lot of time in our school’s math lab, and we talked nerdy stuff. I noticed her at the school’s Halloween dance. My parents had ended my punishment ten days early after another stellar grade report, and my dad drove me, insuring there’d be no missed curfew. I saw Katie and Margot Hearst, Donna Gray, and Sallie Ryan standing outside the gym. They were the boy-crazy freshmen girls who smoked between every class and flirted with any boy who was considered attractive. Surprisingly, Sharon was with them. “… OK nerd-girl, if you’re gonna hang out with us on the wall, you gotta prove you can be cool. You gotta…” That was all I heard as I walked past them and into the dance. I played wallflower until Daisy made me dance, then went right back to the wall, along with most of the boys. The room emptied when the band went on break.
I heard a bunch of girls giggling behind me and a whispered, “Go on… ask him!” I turned in time to see Katie push Sharon towards me. “Ummm… ummm… do you have a light?” she quickly asked as she bumped into me. I could see her blush, and she was very nervous. More giggling came from the girls behind her. Daisy, who was standing nearby with her friends, must have heard Sharon because she called my name and tossed me her lighter. Sharon brought a long brown cigarette to her lips while the girls who had put her up to this now laughed openly. “Ummm… thanks,” she said, looking like she wanted to run away.
“You’re Sharon, right?” It wasn’t brilliant, but it was something. She nodded with a stupid grin on her face, and took a nervous, quick puff from the More. That’s when it dawned on me: she thought I was cute, and was having problems talking to me because of it! Knowing what that felt like made me take pity on her, and the fact that she was smoking a More made me want to—do a lot more. Sharon may have been nerdy, but I noticed that she had a nicely rounded body and healthy chest for the first time. “So where are you from?”
“Just outside of New York,” she quickly answered, obviously thrilled that I wasn’t going to laugh at her. “My dad got promoted to manage his company’s office here. My mom’s a teacher…” She enthusiastically blabbed at me, overreacting, as nerds are wont to do, but I let her. In addition to being very flattered by her attention, I was not going to let those four little bitches get away with using me to humiliate her. I suggested that we move away from the crowd, and she eagerly agreed.
Now that we had a little more privacy, she thanked me for not freaking out over her brown cigarettes, explaining that it was one of the things she had to do to be a part of the freshmen on the wall. “I have to smoke these in public for the next month,” she sighed, looking ill at ease and unfamiliar with smoking, although she was committed enough to inhale on a regular basis.
“Well, I think they’re distinctive, Sharon,” I earnestly said, hastily adding, “for what it’s worth coming from me, the school nerd. Besides, you don’t wanna be like everyone else, right?” She gave me a goofy grin and nodded. Donna walked by at that moment and snipped, “Nerds in love. Gross!” in that haughty “I’m-cool-and-you’re-not” girl way, causing Sharon’s face to fall.
“Yeah, well at least she lets her brain do the talking instead of her pussy,” I mumbled under my breath, not quite brave enough to let Donna hear it, but scoring major points with Sharon. We went back inside after a while. The band was loud, and neither of us was inclined to dance, so we stood next to each other without much conversation.
An hour later, we were back outside with me lighting Sharon’s More. Before we could talk, Daisy and her girlfriends spilled out the door. “Will!” she called as she saw me, and mimed the thumb flick of a lighter, reminding me that I still had hers. She and her group weaved through the growing crowd to gather around us. Daisy removed a Virginia Slim from her purse. I lit it and watched as she french-inhaled her first drag. Daisy sent a long stream of smoke into the night air before asking, “So who’s your friend?” I introduced Sharon to Daisy and her friends. Although they were all juniors, I was helping three of them with school, and therefore, it was socially acceptable to be seen talking to the school nerd.
“So who do you have for etiquette, Daisy?” asked Marie Bishop, apparently continuing a previous conversation.
“Mrs. Coxe,” was the bored reply.
“You have etiquette classes?” I blurted, causing several of the girls to roll their eyes.
Daisy replied, “Every Wednesday after school,” sounding peeved. “My parents want me to go to the debutante ball at the club, so it’s a requirement that all the debs hafta take these classes—kinda like a finishing school,” she expanded, making it clear that her ire was directed at the class and not my ignorance. She took another long puff. “Get this,” resumed Daisy, sending two short bursts of smoke into the air before exhaling quickly. “I’ve been taking smoking lessons for the past week.” She rolled her eyes. “To make sure I do it like a lady.”
“You mean there’s a right way to smoke?” Sharon asked, looking and sounding confused. All the girls laughed, making her blush and she said, “I just started,” sounding defensive.
“Miss Brown,” Daisy began in a funny, high-pitched voice, “there are things that a lady shouldn’t do when smoking, and never should she smoke a cigar.” The other girls laughed, but Sharon and I looked lost. “Sorry. That’s what Mrs. Coxe would tell you,” Daisy explained. “Maybe I oughta show up with one of my dad’s Havana’s next week and give the old lady conniptions.”
“Oh,” Sharon said, crestfallen as she regarded her More. “So these are…”
“Oh those are fine,” Dana Hearst interjected. “My mom and aunt smoke them.”
“Cynda—my oldest sister—does too. She started smoking them when they first came out,” said Carole Lee. “She says they’re a fashion statement.”
“My mom used to smoke Virginia Slims, but she smokes Mores now, too,” added Daisy after finishing a long, extended streaming exhale into the early evening. “I smoke them when I run out of mine at home—at least until I can get to a store. What does your mom smoke?” Neither of Sharon’s parents did. “Ohhh, I see,” Daisy responded, “We all started by sneaking cigarettes from our moms or older sisters, and I guess we learned how to smoke by watching them.” The other juniors nodded their agreement. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she resumed, “how did you pick Mores? It’s not like you’re getting them from your folks or sharing with another student.” Sharon turned red again, but Daisy lightly resumed, “Unless you’re trying to make a fashion statement like Carole’s sister or draw attention to yourself.”
Sharon seemed surprised by the apparent interest, and I gently prodded her to tell them why she was smoking Mores, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She told Daisy and her friends what was going on. “They gave me two cartons of More menthols, and told me I had to smoke all of them in the next month if I wanted to hang out at the Wall,” she unhappily finished. Part of me wished that Sharon would smoke Mores for a month so I could watch.
Dana made a pensive noise, and all the juniors looked at each other. “Y’know, freshmen really shouldn’t be on the wall,” Carole said. “At least not without asking first.”
“Just what I was I was thinking,” smiled Daisy, turning to Sharon. “You just pick whatever cigarettes you want to smoke, and we’ll teach you how like we were your big sisters. Leave those four little bitches to us.” She waved at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of your friend, Will.” Within a month, Donna and gang were relegated to the woods for their smoke breaks, while Sharon was hanging out with the juniors on the wall. She also continued to smoke Mores, primarily because the other girls had given her two cartons, but she looked a lot more comfortable about it.
My dreams mutated; I still dreamed about Daisy, but only once or twice a week. The rest of the time, it was Sharon, who, nerdiness aside, was smoking Mores, rendering her sexier than ever in my eyes. So much so that, like Daisy, she intimidated me, and I stopped talking to her except for perfunctory greetings in the hall.
Sharon was a no-show for the following school dances: Daisy told me that she had been grounded for smoking. “Thank goodness my parents aren’t that strict,” she noted. I still saw Sharon smoking at the wall, but since she had finished her initial cartons by then and she couldn’t get out to buy her own, she smoked whatever one of the other juniors would share. I still looked, especially when she would smoke one of Carole’s new favorite cigarettes, Max Menthol, which seemed just as long and slim as Mores, only in white. I had two dream girls, neither of whom I had the guts to talk to about it, and both of whom would have been extremely approachable.
By March, the weather was changing and the girls were able to hang out at the wall more often, giving me lots of eye candy to look at while walking between classes. My penis still reacted forcefully to the sight of Daisy, Sharon, and Carole smoking, but I had a little more success at quashing the spontaneous erections. One day, I was working on making it go soft while Daisy and I were in the language lab alone during study session, prepping for our mid-term exam. “So how are the etiquette lessons coming?”
“Almost finished,” she replied. “The debutante ball is the first week in April. Mom and I are going to pick out the dress this weekend.”
“That’s nice. Do you have to have a date or—”
“An escort,” she said, quickly adding, “somebody from the club. I’m going with Roberts Baldwin—he graduated last year—he asked me. At least I have somebody who wants to go with me. Doesn’t always work that way. Ask Diana. Peter Crane is her escort.”
“Isn’t he almost engaged to Elizabeth Symington?”
Daisy nodded. “It’s going to stink for her. She’d rather go with anybody else.” I half-jokingly volunteered. “Unfortunately,” Daisy said, “it has to be a club member.”
“Well, I’d like to see you all dressed up for once. I bet you’d look fantastic,” came out of my mouth before I could stop it. She told me that I was sweet for saying that, but that we’d better get back to studying. Frustrated, yet oddly relieved, I agreed.
Two weeks later, as I was walking past the wall, Daisy called me over and handed me a parchment envelope. “This is for you, because you gave me the idea. Please tell me you can come.” I watched her take a fetching drag from her Virginia Slim before opening it.
It was an invitation to a suit-and-tie affair: a debutante party for “Miss Daisy Marie Powell Woodford” at her house, and I knew that I was not going to miss it, no matter what my parents would say. I shouldn’t have worried: as usual, any event sponsored by the Woodfords was seen as having an advantage for my future. The usual gang was there, all of Daisy’s wall friends, a few junior boys… and Sharon.
All conversation stopped when Daisy’s father announced her, and she appeared. He escorted her down the steps. Never having seen her dressed up, made up, and coiffed, I was awestruck by her elegance, and completely forgot about all the other people there. She made a short speech at the bottom of the steps, concluding with, “Let’s party!” I tried to make myself invisible, being almost erect, but Daisy found me quickly enough in the small gathering, pulling me onto the dance floor. “I need lessons,” I complained.
“I’ll teach you,” she said, pulling me close and brushing against my erection. “Flattery like that can get you places, Will,” she whispered before teaching me to waltz.
When we finished, she dragged me over to her mother. “Daisy tells me that you’re responsible for her A in French, Will.” All I could do was blush.
“Mom, please can I use it tonight like I did at the ball?” Daisy pleaded, changing the subject. “I promise not to break it and I’m wearing gloves tonight, too. It’s already in my purse.” Her mother returned a pained look, but acquiesced to whatever the request had been. “You’re great!” Daisy quickly, softly exclaimed, and excitedly turned to me. “Let’s go outside, I need a cigarette.”
We slipped outside, unobserved, with me following mutely, perplexed. Smoking was certainly allowed inside, so why were we going outside? Daisy reached into her purse and handed me a lighter. “Just a sec,” she said, turning away and fiddling some more with her purse. With a quick half-spin, she smiled, posing with a Virginia Slim in a long ivory cigarette holder. “So how do I look?”
I lit her cigarette with shaky hands, and absolutely no thoughts of any other woman. “Wow,” was all I could say. Daisy explained that the holder belonged to her mother, and that she had been allowed to use it at the debutante ball. “Well, you said you wanted to see me all dressed up, so… voilà!” She smiled, posing once again with the holder held from beneath with her thumb and three fingers, looking very haute couture. The image burned itself permanently into my psyche. “I also wanted to talk to you about Sharon—privately. I bet if you asked her out, she’d say yes.”
I immediately blushed, and pointed out that ever since she had been hanging out with the junior girls, Sharon was getting attention from the junior boys. “So?” Daisy countered. “It’s not like she tries and flirts with them like Carole does. You oughta ask her, Will. We can even double-date. I bet she’ll be just as—flattered—by your-ahem-interest—” She cast a quick glance downward. “—as I am.”
It took me several minutes to stop blushing, and we went back inside after Daisy had finished a second cigarette in the holder, each drag long and leisurely, and each punctuated with a slow french-inhale or equally slow open-mouthed snap-inhale. She smiled at me with sparkling mischief in her eyes. Daisy knew my secret and was giving me a tease, but I was too turned on to care.
I did spend some time at the party with Sharon and her parents. Sharon told me that she had decided to keep smoking Mores because she didn’t want to be like everybody else. It also really bothered her parents that she was a “cigar smoker.” “I don’t even bother to correct them anymore,” she said, taking a short, but surprisingly deep, puff from her just-lit, long, slim, brown cigarette that ended in a quick, natural french-inhale. Sharon tossed her head, and then exhaled quickly at the ceiling. “Drives ‘em nuts, but my grades are still good, and I’m not pregnant like the neighbor’s kid so they’re think they’re lucky and are letting me go through my teenage rebellion years.” Despite her fetching smile and carefree smoking style, I could not work up the courage to ask her out.
I gave myself blisters masturbating over fantasies of Daisy from that party for a while even though I faded into insignificance in her life a week later—Roberts was coming home from college for the summer, and suddenly, it seemed that he was the subject of every other sentence she spoke. My ultimate dream girl had a dream guy—and it wasn’t me. Maybe that was why I had the courage to follow Daisy’s advice and ask Sharon out, fully expecting her to laugh in my face, now that she didn’t need to rely on a nerdy sophomore without a driver’s license or a car. She accepted anyway.
Our first date was dinner at her house, for the families to meet. Sharon’s dad had pretty much figured that I would be a safe date for his daughter after Daisy’s party, but I guess he wanted to see how far the apple had fallen from the tree.
A month and three closely chaperoned cultural outings later, Sharon’s natural french-inhale, hair toss and silent, skyward, long streaming exhale, along with her smoking Mores had managed to capture my fancy enough that I had started masturbating over her again.
The Woodfords’ annual Fourth of July picnic was a painful affair for me. It seemed that every time I turned around, Roberts and Daisy were sucking face. Worse, Carole Lee’s family was there, including Cynda, her twenty-seven year old sister, who worked in Manhattan for an entertainment law firm. Slender, sophisticated, and even more beautiful than her youngest sister, she smoked Mores with an effortless elegance. Her inhales were long and deep, held for several seconds before a few wisps of smoke would begin to escape from her nostrils, prefacing her exhale. Cynda would lift her chin by the slightest margin and only then would she deliver a perfectly-formed, narrow stream exhale without a sound. I spent lots of time around her, as she and Sharon hit it off quite well, bonding almost instantly over their mutual affection for More Menthol 120s. Spending the night around two More smokers and a Max smoker left me with a hard-on that only faded after three rounds of solitary pleasure in my room that night. I never even thought about Daisy once.
Sharon’s parents finally gave their permission for us to go on a group date to the movies in late July. Cynda and her fiancé were to be the chaperones. Daisy and Carole immediately headed for the balcony with their boyfriends, while Sharon and I didn’t know what to do until Cynda urged, “Go on upstairs you two,” and we sped up the steps to the balcony.
The balcony was more occupied than I would have expected, as the lower level wasn’t anywhere near full, but as I looked around, it was populated entirely by young couples. Once the lights went down for the movie, the real reason for coming up to the balcony became evident. Sharon and I were probably the only couple upstairs that wasn’t making out. The other couple in our row was necking passionately, and my penis began to inflate. After a futile attempt to pay attention to the movie, all we did was look at each other.
I asked Sharon if she was uncomfortable, and wanted to go downstairs. She responded by asking me if I wanted to. No, what I really want is to do what everybody else up here is doing, but I don’t know how to start, I thought. Besides, I only had Daisy’s word about Sharon’s interest in me. Somewhere in the middle of my racing thoughts, amid the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, I answered no, that it was OK if we stayed upstairs.
Sharon gave me a goofy grin, and we settled in. Two minutes later, I was holding her hand. I don’t remember having reached for it, but then she laid her head on my shoulder. For some reason, I laid my hand gently on her cheek, and she immediately sat upright to face me. I worried that I had done something inappropriate, but quickly realized that there was no sign of anger on Sharon’s face; she was leaning slightly forward, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. My first kiss ever took place in the balcony of the Century Theater, with Sharon Brown, fellow nerd. It was awkward, clumsy, and the most glorious experience of my life. We were also a lot less clumsy about it by the end of the movie we had forgotten about. The first thing Sharon did after we exited was to light a More, taking a long, deep drag with splayed fingers. Her usual quick french-inhale was now long and flowing, a thing of enchanting beauty. Smoke began to flow from her nose, and then she tossed her head, tilted her head back, and exhaled a long stream past my head, before giving me a quick, impulsive, smoke-scented peck on the cheek as we waited for our group to reassemble. I watched her smoke as people streamed around us, and she was—different. Her cute, slightly ill-at-ease manner about smoking had changed into a relaxed, mature, and sexy style, full of confidence. It was a mixture of Daisy’s slow french and open-mouth inhales, Carole’s lazy tilt of her chin before the exhale, and Cynda’s extended-arm, limp-wristed grace that made the More look so incredibly sleek and long between her fingers. Sharon’s original contribution was the slow, thick nasal stream issued while she pursed her lips for her long, streaming oral exhales. It was all done quite naturally and casually, and the effect was devastatingly sexy. August turned into a long string of nights filled with day and night dreams of Sharon, and a lot of masturbation. She and I only went out two more times that summer, once with her parents and once with mine. There wasn’t any more kissing.
I had no idea just how sexy Sharon had become until I started seeing senior boys hanging around Sharon at school, most frequently around the wall or as she was walking to and from. I knew the nerds posed no threat, but Sharon had suddenly attracted the attention of a few of the “hot boys,” to hear Daisy and her friends tell it. Especially Charlie Carter, good-looking, great guy, varsity soccer, wrestling, and baseball co-captain, whose mere name made Carole Lee swoon. Sharon and I still spoke every day because we were in the same French class, but I wasn’t sure where I stood. I couldn’t exactly kiss her to find out, and I was afraid to ask her because, frankly, given the choice between going out with Charlie or me, I’d pick him. Not to mention that his name was also permanently nailed to the honor roll like mine was, so I couldn’t even take refuge in academic superiority. It took Daisy, who was clearly Roberts’ girlfriend now, to shake me from my self-imposed defeat.
During the first home soccer game of the year, where half the female student body was in attendance drooling over Charlie, she called to me while I was in my normal position on the bench. Since there was no way in hell I would get into an actual game, I went over to talk to her. “What brings you to the game? I didn’t think you had the hots for Charlie.”
“I don’t,” she replied, “but Carole does.” Daisy took a drag from her Virginia Slim, punctuated with a quick snap-inhale. Despite her unavailability, my penis noticed as she tilted her head all the way back to exhale straight up. “Oh! Sorry, I forgot,” she instantly, softly, apologized, and moved so that I couldn’t see her cigarette. “I wanted to ask what’s going on with you and Sharon,” resumed Daisy.
It took her less than a minute to destroy my efforts at tap-dancing around the question, something she is still very good at, so I told her the truth. “I figured that it was just a matter of time until she started going out with Charlie since he’s been hanging out with her,” I candidly said, “and I don’t want her to feel bad about me, so I’ve been trying to keep a distance.”
Daisy huffed with exasperation, and grabbed my jersey. “Not every girl in school is hopelessly in love with Charlie! I’m not!” she urgently hissed. I shot back that she already had a boyfriend. “That’s right, and Sharon would like to think that she does, too,” Daisy snapped in return. “This comparing yourself to other guys thing has got to stop, Will, because it makes you underestimate yourself. You’re the guy she necked with at the movies, and whose name makes her face go all goofy, not Charlie—although if you really want him to be that guy, keep doing what you’re doing. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it.”
Our next French class, I asked Sharon if we could meet at the upcoming school dance, and was rewarded with a quick peck on the cheek. Now that I was driving, and had been officially approved by Sharon’s parents, we went on our first unchaperoned date two weeks later. As we kissed in the balcony at the movie theater, she placed my hand directly on her breast, looking me purposefully in the eye when we came up for air. The next week, Jimmy Ford had another party sans parents at his place, and Sharon told her parents that we were going to a movie. We went straight to the party and after a couple of hasty greetings, straight into the woods. Sharon’s virginity (and mine) came to a simultaneous end in the hidden shack in the woods. Sharon’s first-ever dreamy-eyed, after-sex cigarette, with big, moonlit open-mouth inhales and slow combination exhales assured that she would get to have a second one shortly thereafter. I had her home by midnight as promised, getting a short peck on the cheek at her door for show.
We stole longer kisses whenever and wherever we could, causing us to get a quiet, unofficial reprimand from teachers on a few occasions. Since it was obvious that our love affair had no effect on our grades, they made allowances for two of the best students in school. Charlie was gracious in defeat, telling me that I was a lucky guy, and he backed off.
Sharon Brown hung out on the wall smoking as flamboyantly as Sallie Ryan, the easiest piece of ass in the tenth grade, and it made her look like a bad girl, especially with her distinctive brown cigarettes. Looking nothing like the nerdy girl who had arrived at our school a year earlier, Sharon had captured the imagination of several seniors and juniors. And she ignored them all for me. I was in love with a sexy More smoker, and Daisy Woodford became just a friend.
A friend who proved quite adept at getting Sharon out from the watchful eye of her parents; she could play the All-American good girl role to a tee, and “slumber party” became a euphemism for “teens in the woods with no adult supervision and alcohol.” Being the nerds that we were, Sharon and I had started reading about sex, and those get-togethers became our laboratory. We tried different positions, oral sex, and a couple of times, anal sex, which, although we both enjoyed it, cleaning up afterwards was a hassle, and killed the possibility of, if not the mood for, having more sex. Sharon loved getting head while smoking, which also invariably left me hard and would lead to a long, extended fuck, frequently with her lying on her side, one leg in the air braced against my body as I pumped slowly at her. She would kiss me passionately during her after-sex More, and that’s how I started smoking.
The best time was the summer weekend where her parents went away for their anniversary, leaving Sharon at home alone. Her parents were thrilled that she wasn’t dating the wrong kind of boy, and so they gave tacit approval for me to come over. They must have known that we were sexually active by then, whether or not they were willing to admit it.
She wasn’t allowed to smoke in the house, but that didn’t matter—we spent a lot of time on the screened patio overlooking the pool at the back of her house smoking Mores and kissing, where the neighbors couldn’t see us. Friday night, Sharon took off her clothes, lit a More, and within minutes, was riding my rigid cock, but she dropped the cigarette shortly after finding that she could rub her clit against my pubic hair and belly from the position we were in. She didn’t smoke very much that weekend, but I got hard from just being around her, and she happily gave up her after-sex smokes.
Sharon and I discussed college that summer; I was going to look for a school that we both liked, so she could join me in a year. The only two grades less than “A” on my transcript were from a physical education teacher who hated nerds, so I could go to any school I wanted.
Junior year started, and it was strange to walk into school without seeing Daisy or any of her gang on the wall. Sharon’s best female friends had all graduated, and her fellow juniors finally got to take their revenge for their ninth-grade banishment. I would hang out with her whenever I could to ease her social isolation, but other than French class, our schedules were different.
It got worse two weeks into school. Sharon’s dad got a huge promotion, and the family had to move to Brussels immediately. Sharon and I were devastated by the news. Her parents pulled her out of school so she would have a fresh start in Europe, and they were gone by the beginning of October. The hurried nature of their departure left Sharon no opportunity for a date or any type of farewell event, save for a tearful, long, lingering kiss at her door the night before they left.
My grades dropped through the floor, and my parents worried. As usual, the Woodfords invited us to their Halloween party, but Daisy was in college, and besides, I didn’t want to see her anyway—she still had Roberts. My mother, who assured me that she understood, tried to convince me to go. “Marie says that Daisy will be there. She’s coming home for the weekend, and she’d be happy to see you, so you won’t be the only young person there.” I gave in the week before the party, because her gentle persistence had turned into all-out nagging.
Daisy greeted me on the porch of their summer home. “I heard about Sharon,” she sympathetically said, giving me a hug. “I’m sorry.” I asked her how Roberts was. Daisy looked away for a moment, and softly replied, “We broke up in August, right before I left for school. He said it would too hard to stay together with both of us in college.” I immediately apologized; how could I not have known? “S’OK,” Daisy managed to smile. “You were kinda—involved, and I know how that can be. I wasn’t exactly interested in your life when I was with Roberts.”
Being the only non-adults there, we pretty much stayed outside on the patio and to ourselves. Daisy expressed surprise when I pulled out a More Menthol after lighting her Virginia Slim. “So why’d you start?” I told her about Sharon and the smoky kisses as I watched Daisy smoke, oddly feeling nothing. My answers turned into a long complaint. Writing to Sharon was the only connection we continued to have, and it was immensely unsatisfying—the world was a much bigger place then, no internet or cell phones, and international calls cost a fortune.
Daisy patiently listened to me, and when I had run out of things to say, she asked, “So has it really fucked with your grades?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “School’s just not— worth the bother right now.”
“Well, you only have the rest of your life to look forward to. I went to college—new people, new experiences, no Roberts, none of my old gang… kinda like a fresh start. You owe it to yourself to keep that future as wide open as you can. College is soooo different from high school. You have no idea what’s waiting for you. Be a shame to miss it because you’re still trying to get Sharon back.” As stung as I was by the lecture coming from Daisy, our quiet conversation continued. Although Daisy had seemed much more philosophical about her own breakup at first, it became evident that it hurt her much more than she showed. It was the first time ever that Daisy had been rejected—for anything, let alone a relationship. Parents just couldn’t make that sort of thing better—but good friends could. I suddenly understood why she had come home for this party, and why it had been important for me to attend. I let my hurt fade into the background.
As the night went on, and Daisy drank more in her depression, her smoking became more stylish, the effortless french-inhales that lasted several seconds reappeared, and the slow skyward exhales were directed with pouting lips. Despite my own depression and earlier apathy, it began to have its usual effect, and by midnight, I was trying to figure out how to leave politely so I could give myself some relief.
By twelve-thirty, the party had ended, but Daisy was still talking and smoking, so I waved goodbye to my parents, and continued to be there for my friend, talking until the lights inside had been out for quite some time. Now Daisy was definitely drunk and trying to turn me on with her smoking—and succeeding. “Ummm… Daisy,” I said, “you’re drunk.”
“Uh-huh,” she sang, with that impish sparkle in her eyes. Making sure that I was watching, she took a big drag from her Virginia Slim, and performed an enormous snap-inhale. She lazily turned her head to the side, and, still regarding me, lifted her chin to exhale slowly. It was all I could do not to gasp. “Remember what happened last time I was drunk an’ we were alone?” Her hand dropped and gave my bulge a squeeze as she breathed into my ear, “An’ now we’re not virgins anymore.”
“Daisy, you’re really drunk,” I gently reiterated, unable and unwilling to protest.
She dragged on her cigarette, giving me another show as she french-inhaled smoothly for several seconds, well lit by the deck lighting, and feeling my cock give a little surge against her palm in response. “I’m makin’ ya horny,” she breathed.
“You’re so hot,” was my retort.
Daisy crushed her cigarette out in the ash stand and swung in front of me. We kissed passionately, her standing on tiptoe as she pressed herself into my body with our arms wrapped around each other. She stepped back, panting, and quickly undid my belt to pull me to the two-person outdoor recliner, where she sat and efficiently removed her top and bra with an ease that said she had done it many times before, revealing a perfect pair of breasts. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill,” Daisy panted.
She was naked in the time it took me to remove my shirt. Smiling as she lay on the chair, Daisy stroked her clit while I fumbled in my haste to kick free of my jeans—a long-held fantasy was on the verge of realization, and I was afraid that it would disappear before I could undress. It seemed like it took forever to get naked, but the slight chill of the October night only registered for the merest of instants as she spread her arms and legs to welcome and receive me.
“Ohhhh… wowwwww…” sighed Daisy happily as I easily slid into her depths, making her eyes go wide. I began to lap at her breasts, hips working automatically to move me in and out with long, gentle, persistent strokes, driven by muscle memories created with Sharon. “Ohhhhh…. Will… ohhhh… you feel sooooo… soooo… ohhh… ohhh… ohmigod…” Her face turned red, her arms flopped to the side, and Daisy came, gripping me tightly, forcing me to stop lest she push me out.
Quickly regaining control of her body, she pulled my head to hers for an aggressive, hungry kiss. “No wonder Sharon was pissed,” Daisy giggled, gasping when I resumed my fluid pumping. “Ohhh fuuuuck…” We moved slowly together, her body matching my steady rhythm, her soft moaning providing counterpoint. Our lustfully crashing mouths gave way to shorter, more tender kisses, both of us mindful of the need for stealth.
Daisy’s soft sighs of pleasure became gasps of electric thrill, and her breathing became louder in the still night. I felt a tingling through my cock telling me that this magic time would soon end. My lover’s hips began to roll, and her eyes were losing focus as her face reddened again, a much deeper shade. Daisy began to make increasingly higher-pitched noises, and I remember thinking that I needed to do something to keep her quiet—then I came with a long, quiet moan, and forgot about her until my own orgasm subsided.
Daisy was whimpering loudly, arms and legs locked around me, her hips jerking and her beautiful face was bright red as her orgasm washed through her, with me still inside her and still relatively hard. I hugged her tightly and tried to kiss her to keep her from waking her parents (or anybody else around for that matter,) but she continued to cum every time I moved. I tried to pull out, but she moaned, grabbed my hips and forcefully pulled them back down, causing her to have another orgasmic convulsion. I was beginning to worry that Daisy wasn’t going to stop—Sharon was multiply orgasmic, but there were definite stops and starts, and Daisy’s writhing was making me hard again inside of her, and wanting to fuck some more.
Her orgasm finally began to fade, and she relaxed her grip—both of them. With a last sigh of contentment, Daisy’s eyes cleared, and we kissed, slowly, deeply after which, both of us held our breath, frozen, waiting for any sign of discovery. “Sorry,” Daisy said, “I got a little loud.” We both giggled, but quietly. “Ummm… Will?” she asked as we calmed.
“Yes?”
“Can you—ummmm—pull out?”
I stifled a laugh, and regretfully complied, drawing a hiss and shudder from her. “Ohhh gawd that feels…” Daisy loudly sucked in air and looked at my erection longingly. “We’d better go inside before I do something that will wake up the neighbors,” she throatily finished.
My erection had disappeared by the time I got inside, carrying my clothes. Daisy asked me if I minded sleeping on the sofa, then watched me dress in their basement. “I gotta go up to my room,” she apologized, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Daisy paused, and then put her arms lightly on my shoulders. “You are cute.” We kissed some more before she gently pushed herself away to go up the steps.
I left early the next morning, before the house had stirred, thanking whatever providence had kept our lovemaking secret. I didn’t think Mr. Woodford would have approved, and he was still a big supporter of mine. Still, I wanted his daughter, and the feeling wasn’t exactly one-sided. However, she was a college girl, and I knew that I couldn’t be her one and only.
I suppose that our Halloween escapade allowed me to leave Sharon in my past; my grades got better, and my own college choice loomed large. My social life, non-existent since Sharon’s departure, stopped being important, and since Daisy was away at school, I could avoid thinking about Halloween. Everything was back to normal.
My folks won a charity raffle for a romantic New Year’s Eve at the ritziest hotel in town, complete with an overnight stay. The Woodfords were disappointed that they wouldn’t be attending their party, but also made it clear that I was still invited. It would be the first time I had seen Daisy since we’d fucked, and I definitely had mixed feelings about attending. However, it was obvious that all the adults would be disappointed if I didn’t go, so I dutifully drove to Daisy’s house New Year’s Eve.
She met me at the door, cigarette in hand. “Will! I’m so glad you made it! You can be my date tonight.” With that, she led me into the party settling comfortably on my arm as we circulated through the partygoers. We hung out with Carole Lee, her college boyfriend, and a few other people from school, but although we were together, it seemed to be understood that it was only because neither of us had a significant other, and we were friends. Mrs. Woodford came over and chatted with us for a long while. Ever the gentleman, I lit her More, and Daisy responded by taking one of her mother’s, “for a change of pace.” By the time Mrs. Woodford left us after smoking another More in her elegant way, I had a half-full erection. Daisy gave a surreptitious glance at the front of my pants and winked. I blushed. At midnight, all the kids were in the basement. Daisy maneuvered me underneath the mistletoe and we kissed, long and deep, out of her parents’ view.
The party was still going strong at two, but most of the people our age had left for their own private celebrations. Despite our long kiss to ring in the New Year, and her dewy-eyed look immediately thereafter, she had shot down any ideas I had of a repeat of Halloween earlier, by pointedly noting that she was being careful about how much she drank. “Can’t afford to get too drunk tonight. Not here.” By three, the basement was empty, save for us, and the party upstairs was on its last legs. Daisy sat on the sofa and lit a More from the pack her mother had left. It seemed that Mrs. Woodford had spent a lot of time around us, especially the more she drank. I idly wondered how Daisy had ended up as an only child—I could see what Mr. Woodford saw in his beautiful wife. “Daisy,” I began, “am I imagining things or did I talk to your mother more tonight than I have in the last three years?”
Daisy did one of those show-and-heart-stopping slow, open-mouth inhales, but turned bright red at the question. “My mom got a little drunk tonight, sorry.” I waved my hand to indicate that it was no big deal. She gave me a funny look, and leaned forward as if she were going to say something, but then it changed to one of internal debate. Finally, she softly began, “We woke her up. She knows.” My jaw fell as Daisy delicately put her cigarette out. “She wasn’t really mad about it, but she’s always been more realistic about that sort of stuff than my dad.” I asked if I should leave, but Daisy shook her head. “She likes you—a lot. She’s dropped hints from time to time that she wouldn’t be disappointed if we were to… ummmm… start dating.” Before I could get my hopes up, she quickly added, “But we’ve already discussed that, and we agreed that now is not a good time because of college. We’re going to be a thousand miles apart for eight months out of the year, and we might miss something out of—obligation.” All of the merriment of the evening faded as our quiet discussion turned serious.
“Daisy…”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I smoke around you the way I do because I like the way it makes you look at me. I know you like me, and you stopped being the little freshman who my dad told me to keep an eye on at Jimmy Ford’s party. And Halloween was… more than I thought it would be.” She gave me a complicated look. “Where on Earth did you learn—?”
“Daisy,” I said, “as ridiculous as this may sound, I’m a nerd. My girlfriend was a nerd. Do you have any idea of how many sex books there are for two nerds to study and then experiment? We’re very scientific, y’know.”
She guffawed at that, grinning, “I shoulda known. You always were an honor roll student.” Daisy looked at me with a predatory sparkle in her eyes. She reached for a More, but then decided against it. “I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, Will, but the only reason we aren’t naked now is because we have no privacy and I know I’d be loud, not because I don’t wanna do it with you again.” She looked directly at me and confessed, “There was nobody here I wanted to kiss at midnight more than you.” I asked her what all of this meant. “It means that if we’re done with college and we’re in the same place… maybe we can see what happens, OK?” We slept together that night, fully clothed on the sleeper sofa in the basement, me feeling oddly comfortable with her nestled next to me.
Daisy called me a couple of days later, asking if I’d like to go to dinner and a show at one of the theaters in town. “I’m kinda bored. Most of my friends from high school already have plans.” She picked me up at my house, and immediately headed away from the city. The theater tickets she had showed to my parents and me at my house were forty bucks apiece. “Ummm… Daisy? Where are we going to dinner?”
“The woods,” she casually replied, keeping her eyes on the road. “And I promise you’ll definitely get a show.” I said something about her wasting money, and she turned to me. “Will, I know I don’t act like it most of the time, but I’m a rich kid. Eighty bucks is nothing, especially if I get to spend a night with you.”
Now it was my turn to be flattered. Dinner was burgers and fries we picked up from a local restaurant. “I figured it would be safer than eating my cooking,” she explained as we sat at the dining room table in their summer home. “One of these days, I’m gonna learn how.”
After dinner, Daisy opened a bottle of champagne she had liberated from New Year’s Eve. “If you share, there’s not enough for me to get drunk. I think I wanna be sober for tonight,” she smiled. I settled on the sofa. “Just a sec,” she called, reappearing with evening gloves and a Virginia Slim in her mother’s ivory holder. “Told ya you’d get a show,” she purred, taking an enormous drag and snap-inhaling very slowly. “You like?” she unnecessarily asked.
Our first time that evening took place in the living room, on the fluffy, warm rug in front of the fireplace. Like our first time, I was giving Daisy long, steady strokes and she reacted pretty much the same way, only louder. Much. “Sorry if you’re a little deaf now,” she giggled, handing me a More and taking one for herself, despite it being menthol. She smoked lazily, content in her obvious afterglow, and I got hard again from watching her, as much as I tried not to.
She noticed. “Maybe this is none of my business, but—was it Sharon or these?” asked Daisy, showing me her cigarette.
“Sharon,” I answered honestly. “I know you might not think so, but she was really attractive if you looked past her nerdiness.” Somewhat surprisingly, Daisy concurred, pointing out that the boys at school didn’t really notice Sharon until she stopped looking like a nerd by smoking at the wall. “She was a lot of fun to be with. We had a lot of common interests,” I reflected, noticing that the pain of losing her was muted by Daisy’s presence. “I was never embarrassed to be with her, even when she got going about something from biology class that most kids would think was gross, and I think she sensed that.”
“Do you think she ever—knew about you?”
I shook my head. “She smoked because it wasn’t something people would expect her to do, and she picked Mores because it made her—different from everybody else. Sharon is really smart—and she hates having to be the stereotypical nerd. Smoking brown cigarettes and having lots of varied sex lets her feel more like a normal rebellious teenager.”
Daisy sent a long trail of smoke skyward from her final drag and husked, “So what else did you two little nerds learn from your sex books?”
Five minutes later, we were upstairs in her bedroom and I introduced Daisy to cunnilingus. Despite her initial hesitation, it was quite successful, and then I rolled her on her side, lifted one leg, and entered her again. “Ohhhh… that feels nice,” she sighed, “but I don’t think I can hold my leg—” I wobbled her clit with a finger, and Daisy gasped, jerked, and came forcefully, shooting me out of her. Another try ended up with the same result within a few moments.
“I need a cigarette after that!” she exclaimed, panting. “I don’t think I can take much more of that. Let’s do it normal.” Instead, I had her climb on top of me and do the work. Daisy quickly settled into an easy rhythm, sometimes stirring, sometimes bouncing, until she figured out how to slide herself along my length. It wasn’t long before she was leaning forward, we were kissing constantly, and I was thrusting slowly from beneath.
“Uhhh… ohhh… ohhhh… Daisy!” I came for the second time, less copiously, but more intensely, as my toes curled and cramped. She didn’t cum, but wrapped me up and we rolled over, kissing some more until well after I’d gone soft.
“We gotta clean up and get back,” she said with obvious regret. “Play’s almost over, and I can only blame so much on traffic.” A couple of hours later, alone in my room, I lay on my back wondering how to turn myself into Daisy’s boyfriend.
However, she headed back to school the following weekend, giving me no chance to declare my love. She called from college to tell me that I was the best friend in the world before she left, and promised that we would see each other when she came home for the summer. I told her that I loved her, but she only replied, “The girls are gonna love you when you get to college,” she giggled. “Just make sure you keep your options—and your mind—open. We’re going to be a long ways away from each other for the next few years. Come see me after you’ve graduated if you’re still interested.”
Daisy had made it clear that she wasn’t ready to settle down, and that, as a friend, she thought that I shouldn’t make that commitment, either, so I put girls out of my mind to focus on finishing strong. There were AP exams and scholarship competitions to deal with, and I decided that I was fine with that—until the first announcement for senior prom came in the mail and my mother became an enormous pain in the ass. I didn’t really care to go, I had no one to go with, and I had better things to do than to find a date who wasn’t the least bit interested in me. Unfortunately, my mother attached a great deal more importance to the event, regarding it as a major coming-of-age milestone. After about a month of argument, I capitulated to keep the family peace, and devised a plan: I’d only ask unattainable girls who would turn me down, and then I could truthfully report to my mother that I could not find a date.
Everything was going according to plan: I had asked six girls to prom, and had been turned down six times, only once with the cutting ridicule I had expected. The others were surprisingly apologetic, noting that I had lost my girlfriend, and they understood why I would ask. That made it even less painful, so when I approached rejection number seven, I was already figuring that it would take ten rejections for my mother to accept my defeat. Only three more to go after this… Wendy Phillips, slender and model-beautiful with café-au-lait skin, stood at the wall smoking a Marlboro Light 100, and prom was three weeks away.
“Oh! Will, I’m flattered—really, but I’ve already got a date,” she apologized. “He goes to a different school.” I cheerfully thanked her and turned to go. “Will!” she called, stopping me. “If you need a date, my little sister Cheryl would love to go to senior prom with you.” Shit! I hadn’t counted on finding anybody! Cheryl was a freshman, shorter and rounder than her sister. She was cute, but had not yet blossomed. It was a big deal for a freshman to go to the senior prom, and I figured that was why Cheryl wanted to go. Nevertheless, I had put myself in the position, and I didn’t want to be cruel by saying no. The Phillips family loved me; being class valedictorian, extremely well-mannered and well-spoken, polite, sober, and with a bright future, I was seen as—safe. My infrequent smoking wasn’t an issue with them—they all smoked, even Cheryl, who smoked her mother’s Salem 100s the night I met them at their house. She hadn’t yet developed any real style beyond quick drags and immediate cone exhales, but I knew that would come with experience, and when she started to lose her baby fat, the guys would be standing in line. I took Cheryl to a movie as a precursor to prom, but we didn’t even hold hands because I was sure she just wanted to go to the prom.
So my mother got her wish, and I showed up at the Phillips home on prom night with corsage and roses in hand. Wendy was riding with her date, while I was to drive an obviously excited Cheryl to my house first for more pictures. After the Phillips’ final pictures, Wendy handed a box to her sister, saying, “I even got you some cigarettes to match your outfit—like mine.”
Cheryl squeaked with surprise and immediately pulled one of the cigarettes from the box, a blue Nat Sherman’s Jubilee. Wendy lit a pink one, matching her own dress and counseled her sister to have fun. My date babbled non-stop on the way to my house until I warned her about smoking in front of my folks. She tolerated my mother’s gushing and the second round of photos, even posing at giving me a kiss on the cheek.
The first sign that things weren’t exactly what I thought they were came on our way to the prom. “Will, can we stop to get some cigarettes? These are cute, but they’re not menthol.” I said sure, and asked her what kind she wanted me to get her. “I wanna smoke those tonight,” she replied, indicating my Mores. “Yours.”
Great, a whole evening sitting next to a More smoking girl who’s not really interested in me, I glumly thought. Can this get any worse? Nonetheless, I stopped at a mini-mart and purchased two packs of More Menthol.
“Thank you!” bubbled Cheryl, and she kissed me on the cheek when I got back into the car. Once at the prom, suppressing my erection was a constant battle. Despite her unremarkable smoking, Cheryl handled the Mores with an appropriate femininity, and I couldn’t help but watch. We danced to the fast songs and I was having a good enough time—it was not the disaster I had been expecting. However, we sat out the slow songs, and by the middle of prom, we were one of a handful of people left sitting during the “lover’s choice” songs. I looked at the cute young girl sitting next to me nervously smoking a More while looking around the room. “Ummm… Cheryl?” She jumped as I tapped her on the shoulder. “Ummmm… would you like to…?” Her eyes went wide, and then began to sparkle brightly as she grinned. I could hear Daisy’s voice going, Will, you’re such an idiot, as I finally realized that just going to the senior prom as a freshman wasn’t what had been important to Cheryl. She melted into me as we moved slowly around the floor, and on the way home, I became a permanent part of Cheryl’s memories by giving her her first real kiss, from her first real crush. She was eager, excited, and—not ready to go any further than a few breath-taking wet kisses, but I felt no need to push her. While I didn’t get laid like several of my classmates, that was OK.
Cheryl was also a fourteen year-old girl, and her crush on me fizzled out quickly. I ran into her by accident outside a movie theater a few weeks later, kissing Chip Simms, another freshman. She apologized profusely but I assured her that there were no hard feelings. Truthfully, it saved me the angst of having to break up with her; after all, I was college-bound, and having a girlfriend back in high school for three more years just wouldn’t work. Graduation day came and went, and I got a summer job working in a lab at one of the local colleges.
“So, are you ready?” Daisy asked at her folks’ fourth-of-July party. I told her that I was as prepared as I could be. Mrs. Woodford came over to congratulate me, smoking one of her Mores. The drags were longer and deeper, snap-inhales were slower and smaller than her daughter’s, and Mrs. Woodford gave a brief stream from the nostrils before her raised-chin silent oral exhale, but it was obvious where Daisy had learned her smoking style. It also made me a little horny, a situation rendered more awkward by knowing she was thinking of me as a potential family member. She asked about my plans and what I wanted to study, and why… “Mom, Will just graduated from high school,” Daisy finally interrupted with a giggle. “It’s not like he has a roadmap for the rest of his life already.” She looked at her mother and pointedly added, “I know I don’t.”
That was enough to get Mrs. Woodford to blush and leave us alone. “Thanks,” I sighed. “Is she that—persistent—with you?”
“You don’t wanna know,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I heard you went to prom with Cheryl Phillips. Isn’t she a little young for ya?” I gave her the short version of how that had happened. “Only you can try to not get a date for prom and fail!” Daisy laughed, grabbing my arm and linking it with hers. Our eyes met, and for an instant, her eyelids drooped, her lips parted, and it disappeared. Just like that, it was gone. “You’re still really cute, Will. We’re going to have to see a show or two this summer,” she quietly said. Daisy pulled out a Virginia Slim and let me light it for her, giggling that I was such a gentleman. I was rewarded with a flamboyant open-mouthed inhale, and slow, skyward exhale. Daisy inconspicuously brushed the front of my pants with her free hand, and whispered, “Maybe as soon as next week. There’s a new show opening.”
A week later, Daisy lay next to me in her bed early in the afternoon. Her parents were at the summer home, and we’d told my parents that we were going to be at the amusement park for the day. “Wowwwww,” she exhaled, “You are really good, Will. I think I like being fucked slow better than fast.” Her eyes fluttered. “If I have a cigarette, will you be ready quicker? I wanna try that leg-up thing again. I’ve been readin’ the ‘Joy of Sex’—but I need a study partner.” She lit the Virginia Slim and drew steadily, breasts rising, and then opened her mouth to show me the big ball of smoke swirling inside before making it vanish. She made sure that I was watching as, eyes sparkling, she tilted her head back and released a long stream of smoke into the air. “Never met a guy like you who’s so affected by cigarettes… I mean, it makes lots of guys look, but you…” Daisy’s voice trailed off and she looked at my cock, which was slowly responding.
“It’s more the way you smoke,” I corrected. “There’s something about it that makes you—even sexier than you are.” She took another drag, french-inhaled, and I gasped. “Like that.”
Daisy giggled and began stroking my cock, making it grow faster. “Once word gets out about how-ummm… good you are in bed, you are gonna be sooo popular,” she said. “There are lots of girls like me at college who like sex, an’ don’t wanna like… settle down an’ have babies yet. And no parents to work around, so you can find allll the privacy you need.” She leaned into me. “Just promise you won’t forget me, OK?” I told her that there was no way in hell I could ever forget her. At that, Daisy beamed, putting out her cigarette after one last luxurious exhale and lay on her side. “Ready?” she purred. “I tried to help.” She sighed happily as I moved and slid into her again. “Ohhhh… yeahhhhh… do the clit thingy, Will!”
We “saw” two more plays that summer, although we actually had to go to a third when her parents bought tickets once they found out we were going. I was coming to view sex and love as separate concepts, because now that a deeper relationship between us was possible, Daisy made it clear that she would not pursue one, but it was equally clear that she loved to fuck me.
A week before I was to leave, we went out for the night. I told my folks that I was meeting Daisy, and that they shouldn’t stay up for me. My father hushed my mother’s worries by telling her that I was growing up, and he simply told me to be careful. Daisy met me at her door in her debutante dress and white opera gloves, with a Virginia Slim in her mother’s ivory cigarette holder. “Come in,” she purred, her voice dripping sensuality. Daisy dragged on the holder, letting some of the smoke curl into her nose for several seconds as she finished before tossing her brown hair, and posed, chin lifted, arm extended with an appropriately limp wrist. Then she slowly, carefully exhaled through her nose and mouth. Only then did she look at me for a reaction.
“Wow,” I breathed in near-awe. “If there was such a thing a perfect smoking… that was it.” I was so affected by her display that although turned on more than ever, my usual physical response didn’t happen. Daisy just smiled and indicated for me to sit on the sofa, asking if I would like to see her do it again. I nodded, voice still trapped.
We waltzed around her living room to Strauss and Mozart, she elegant, me in blue jeans, looking into each other’s eyes, and when we were done, she brought me some water, and lit another Virginia Slim in the holder. With a toss of her hair and a seductive over-the-shoulder glance, Daisy turned to go upstairs, stopping to give me one final posed drag, big snap-inhale, and flowing oral exhale. I didn’t need a second invitation.
That night, I learned how to undress a lady properly, lace garters and all. Daisy and I had the entire night to ourselves, so lust could be satisfied without frenzied hurry. Daisy and I put her dress away with care, kissing, and then it was my turn to be lovingly undressed.
She knelt as she removed my pants, and quickly took me into her mouth. There were no teasing glances or impish smiles: Daisy was lovingly fellating me, taking me as far into her mouth as she could, then withdrawing slowly. She stopped when I was rock-hard, and moved to the bed, reclining and leisurely spreading her legs. “Wherever you want to start,” Daisy purred.
I dove in head first, lapping and gently fingering her, making her sigh and undulate until she came. Daisy pushed at my head, and spread her arms and legs wider. I mounted her, increasing the potency of her orgasm. “Ohhhh… yeaahhh…” she sighed, finally relaxing. Daisy wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered, “Faster.”
Sharon had loved the long, easy strokes so much that I hadn’t ever considered pumping faster. I was uncoordinated at first, but Daisy giggled playfully, hung onto me, and set a rhythm with her hips for me to match. It didn’t take me too long, and I was huffing with each stroke.
“Huh-huh-huh,” Daisy panted in time with me, high-pitched and exciting, spurring me on.
Soon, I was feeling my orgasm approach, and the different pace shortened the climb. My breathing became hoarse and ragged, and I growled her name… and “Marry me!” shot from my mouth as my cock erupted. Daisy wailed constantly in her own matching orgasm, until she issued a long, satisfied groan. The room was full of panting.
“But no, I won’t,” Daisy finally declared. “I’m not marrying anybody yet,” she smiled in reply to my orgasmic imperative, kissing me as she bounced across and out of the bed. “Not even gonna think about it ‘til after graduation! I’m grabbing your Mores, but they don’t fit in the holder. Be right back!”
When she returned, she lit two of the long brown cigarettes and handed me one. “I can’t decide whether they’re sexy or dykey,” said Daisy as she contemplated her cigarette. “I know I’m not as brave as Sharon—I couldn’t smoke these in public all the time. I’ll just stick with my Virginia Slims.” She dragged long and deep on the More, exhaling smoke as she noted, “But these really aren’t too bad for being menthol.” The room became silent while we smoked, with Daisy carefully performing large open-mouth inhales for my benefit. Near the end of her cigarette, she glanced at my recovering penis and asked, “So, is there anything we haven’t done yet?”
I thought for a moment, and mentioned anal sex, which drew a look of obvious distaste from her. “You’ve tried that?!” she exclaimed. I nodded and asked her the same. “Ummmm… yeah,” she quietly replied. “I was way drunk, and he was… big. It wasn’t a… pleasant experience.”
“Would you be willing to try it again, under the right conditions? With somebody you trust?”
She looked doubtful. “Do we have to?”
“We don’t have to do anything,” I gently replied. “I was asking if you would consider doing it with me. I promise that I’ll stop if you ask, and I promise that I won’t just—do it.”
Daisy thought about it for a moment. “Ummm… maybe? I’m not sure exactly what you mean by just doing it.” I went and got some petroleum jelly to use as lubricant, and then kissed her. We necked until she relaxed, and then I carefully worked a finger into her tight asshole, constantly asking if she was OK. “Y-y-yeah,” she stuttered. “It doesn’t hurt— not really.”
“Remember to tell me to stop if it does. Anal sex isn’t something you want to try without preparation,” I counseled. I worked my finger in and out for a couple of minutes, and then I tongued her asshole and perineum.
“Oh wow!” Daisy immediately exhaled, “that feels—that feels… reallygood!” She began to quiver, so I kept doing it, and then I began to work two fingers into her, and she began to rock back and forth, making little moaning noises as she forced my fingers deeper.
I stopped to coat my erect cock with petroleum jelly, and resumed flicking my tongue around her asshole. “Oooooohhh!” Daisy moaned and vibrated, splaying her arms and thrusting her ass towards me. She immediately tensed when she felt the head of my cock push between her ass cheeks, but rocked back and forth to indicate her continued willingness, moaning and panting, “Ooooh…. Will… p-p-put—put it—inme!”
Very slowly, I granted her wish. “Ohhhh… ohmigod… ohmigod… ohmigod…” she panted heavily. I asked if she wanted me to stop, getting an urgently hissed, “No!” in return. I carefully worked my dick deeper, and stopped when it was all in. “N-n-not too fast!” warned Daisy. Smoothly and slowly, I pulled my hips back and she drew a loud, hissing breath, and when I pushed forward while gently holding her hips, she groaned, “don’t sto-o-o-o-op!” I began fucking her ass as gently as I could, the same way as I had the first time with Sharon. This time, there was no sex book on the bed for me to follow, and as she relaxed, I picked up speed, making Daisy howl loudly, singing, “Ohhhhhh!” for several seconds, punctuated with loud gasps.
She grunted, huffed, and arched her back, and then she began to rock on her hands and knees, working my dick inside her without much effort from me. Her back turned almost sunburn red while she made animalistic grunts and it felt so good—and then I started playing with her clit. Her voice went up two octaves and she squeaked, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” in orgasm, her body rendered too uncoordinated to maintain its rhythmic rocking. Suddenly, it didn’t matter as I felt an electric shock go through my inner body, and my dick spurted fire into Daisy’s ass and I lost all awareness of anything else.
“Hoooo-leeeeee shit!” Daisy managed to gasp, “that was… incredible!” She gave me a hungry kiss and shuddered. “Whew! I’m still feelin’ that one! You fit soooo much better—it only hurt for a moment—an’ then you played with my clitty and—wow!”
“Ummmm… Daisy? You said the last guy was big…” I hesitantly began.
“I know what you’re gonna ask because that’s the way you are,” interrupted Daisy. “Honestly, you’re not as big around—which is a good thing if you like anal sex—as most guys I know, but you’re long enough.” She gave me another brief, wet kiss, smiling, “What makes you special is that you know how to use what you’ve got to make a girl feel reeeeealllll good. That’s all that matters, Will, and any girl who doesn’t know that isn’t worth your time, let alone you obsessing over the comparison.” She pulled another More from the pack. “And now it’s time for Will to make Daisy feel good—some more.” She lit it, drawing hard enough to send jets of smoke from her nose. Daisy exhaled noisily, and then dragged again, long and smooth. She rolled a big ball of smoke outside of her mouth before snapping it into her lungs, holding it for a seeming eternity, and finally, with a look of “I-know-this-makes-you-want-me,” easing her chest forward as she exhaled, with the long, slim cigarette held effeminately at the end of an extended arm and slightly cocked wrist. My cock surged at the sight, indicating that Daisy would get exactly what she wanted as soon as she finished her cigarette.
We showered together the following morning, with Daisy trying to spur me into fucking her in the ass again, but only half-succeeding: she got me hard, and we did it doggy-style. “Just remember,” she said after the first of several parting kisses at her door, “no thoughts of saving yourself for me. A lot is gonna happen over the next four years, and you won’t want to miss any of it.”
“After those four years?” I breathed.
“Mmmmm… we’ll see. But you’re cute, and you’re smart. Don’t let any girl tell you you’re not good enough for her. I have a funny feeling that you’ll meet a lot of them that won’t be good enough for you.”
“Daisy,” I declared after some more kissing, “you’re good enough.”
“If I was ready,” she admitted, giving me the complicated look that she always did when it came to the subject of being romantically involved with me. “I could—” Daisy sighed loudly. “—fall in love with you, Will. I think you’ve figured that out. But I don’t know what the future holds for me, and I just—can’t limit myself to a life with you right now. I hope you—no, I know you understand that.”
I kissed Daisy on the forehead. “Then we’ll talk about this again in four years—one way or another.”
As I walked away, she called, “Will? I may need a date for next New Year’s Eve.” She lit a Virginia Slim and took a flamboyant drag, leaning sexily against the doorway. “I hope you’re free.”
“Count on it, Daisy,” I laughed, and then resumed walking towards my car, on my way to college.