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 really had a dating relationship, we’ve been fuck buddies off and on over the course of that relationship, even after I married. 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.
As much as we tried (and we tried a lot), a third child hadn’t been in our cards. Giselle’s job as a multi-lingual business specialist had picked up to the point where she was traveling just about every month, usually to Europe for a week at a time, and her parents kept an apartment in Brussels for us. Since I no longer taught during summer session, Giselle, the kids, and I would spend much of our summer there, usually leaving the week after the Woodford’s Fourth of July party.
My wife’s growing success allowed us to buy a new home, and all three sets of parents attended our housewarming party. I found myself near Giselle and Mrs. Woodford, both smoking the unfiltered 164s without holders, both still stunningly attractive, and both still inflammatorily sexy smokers. They would glance at me from time to time and smile, usually accompanied by a discreet smoking show, knowing that I was watching. I headed back to the buffet as soon as the first effects of my fetish hit me, and before any obvious sign of arousal. Suddenly, Mr. Woodford exclaimed, “This is quite a surprise! We thought you were in London!”
“Thought I’d crash this little party,” came Daisy’s voice. “Hi, Will!” she brightly greeted when she saw me through the crowd with a big, happy smile. My penis gave a little jump against her as we hugged. “Guess Giselle’s somewhere close by, smokin’ a super-long brown cigarette,” she amusedly whispered in my ear. Our discussion was cut short by Charlie, who came bouncing over to greet his favorite “Auntie Daisy.”
A little later, Daisy was standing by herself near the bar, holding something white and very skinny. She brought it to her lips, and produced a smoke trail into the fall air. Is that a joint? She knows better than that. I tried to discern what she was smoking as I hurried towards her, but it looked too regularly shaped to be a joint. “This is a really nice house, Will,” commented Daisy. “Your mom gave me the tour.” She saw what I was looking at. “It’s a Virginia Slim Superslim. I saw them at the drugstore on my way from the airport and had to pick up a pack to try them. You know me and my affection for Virginia Slims.”
At that point, Giselle appeared. “Hey Daisy! We’re happy you could make it, especially Charlie.” She looked at the superslim between Daisy’s fingers. “Oh, is that a Vogue? My youngest sister Emmy smokes them.”
“No, I’ve always been a Virginia Slims girl,” replied Daisy. “I didn’t even know there were other superslim cigarettes out there.” She took a puff, and then looked at her cigarette with distress before putting it out. “They don’t taste too bad, but they go too quick—especially if you’re used to 120s.”
That night, as Giselle climbed into bed, she told me that she had heard a disturbing rumor from her tobacconist. “He said Sherman’s is going to stop making the 164s at some point. He’ll make extra-big orders until then for me.” She sighed. “Guess I’ll have to find another way to enchant you.”
“You could always stand there naked and smile,” I said.
“I can do that.”
Five years later, Daisy offered us the use of one of her company’s executive villas in the Caribbean for a week. “A friend and I were going to spend a week there, but she had to pull out, so I’m paying for an empty villa right now. We initially declined, thinking that it would be awkward with just the three of us, but Daisy said, “What makes you think I was going to be alone in the other villa? If anything, I was thinking maybe we would have a dinner together as couples—or two at most.”
The day after Christmas, Giselle’s parents took Renée and Charlie to Europe, while Giselle and I boarded a plane for the Caribbean. The villa was truly for executives, located on a secluded private beach, with first-class service a phone call away. Daisy came trotting onto the beach late that afternoon by herself. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, but when it became evident that no one was coming to join her, we asked. “Well,” she sighed, “unfortunately, some bastard is trying to take over his company. Announced it Christmas Eve, hoping to take everyone by surprise. My friend is trying to save what he’s built.” We gave Daisy our sympathy and asked her to join us for dinner. “C’mon, you two, how long has it been since you’ve had a week without the kids? I’m not going to turn into a third wheel. Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve been able to hang out on a beach and just chill with a book or something. My ex always wanted to be doing something—I think he just wanted to check out every other half-naked woman within walking distance.” Giselle and I insisted that Daisy at least have dinner with us. After all, we wouldn’t have been there if it hadn’t been for her. She reluctantly agreed, but made it clear that it was only dinner, and only that night. “You guys need some alone time.”
We shared a bottle of wine over dinner, discussing our children and showing pictures to Daisy, who was still Charlie’s “favorite auntie from England.” Afterwards, Giselle contemplated the fully stocked liquor cabinet—all high-end and restocked for free—it came with the villa. “Hey, we executives need to unwind,” giggled Daisy.
Over the next two hours and a whole bottle of expensive rum, Giselle talked with drunken honesty about her fancy boarding school—the upper-class girls were definitely not angels—and neither were the teachers. Daisy revealed the existence of both the Parisian sex club and the Asian sex powder (but thankfully, not my experience with either.) I got drunk enough to tell Daisy about Giselle’s propensity for forgetting how to speak English during really good sex. Instead of being embarrassed, my wife was so drunk that she found it hilarious that I’d shared that with Daisy. By the time the stories ended, all of us were definitely unwound, and a smoky haze filled the living room. Daisy seemed to have forgotten her intended date’s misfortune that had left her solo on an island paradise, Giselle was eyeing me with her “I’m really drunk and I want to fuck you insensate” glance, and I had been watching an exhibition of sexy smoking with and without holders all night, so I was going to grant her wish as soon as Daisy left.
However, Giselle wanted another drink, so I went to fetch her one after having another bottle of rum delivered. I was in the middle of making it for her when she seductively breathed, “Hiya, honey,” in my ear, catching me off-guard. She looked across the room at Daisy, who was sitting with her legs crossed, obviously completely at ease. “She’s very pretty,” Giselle softly slurred. “I can see what you liked so much.” There was a pause while she continued looking at Daisy. “Y’know, I could,” she playfully whispered, looking at me with thoroughly intoxicated mischief.
“Could what?” I quietly smiled, amused by Giselle’s drunken state. We were going to fuck tonight—until she passed out—or orgasmed herself back to sobriety, which had been known to happen more than once.
“Do her,” Giselle whispered, obviously serious in spite of her inebriation. My jaw almost hit the floor. We were going on ten years and this was the first I’d heard of Giselle having any sexual interest whatsoever in another woman. “Oh, c’mon, Will… I went to an all-girls boarding school. During puberty. With almost no unchaperoned access to boys. Surely that thought must have crossed your mind a time or three.” I only continued to gape. She shook her head, clucking, “You just don’t have much of an imagination, do you? I bet she’d be fun, too.” She pivoted and swayed back to the living room.
My cock got half-hard from the implication as we rejoined Daisy, who was fiddling with a box of 164s in the living room. “Hey, Giselle,” Daisy giggled, “I think I’m drunk enough to finally try one of your extra-long cigarettes.”
Giselle took the box from her. “Well, they’re going to quit making them soon, so it’s a good thing you asked now.” She sat next to Daisy, pulled one of the brown, six-and-a-half inch, unfiltered cigarettes from the box, and lit it without any fanfare. “I’m not sober enough to mess with a holder,” giggled my wife. “I could break either the cigarette or the holder—or both.” Giselle handed it to Daisy after a second drag, tilting her head back to exhale slowly and silently, starting from her nostrils and finishing with a perfect stream from pursed lips. I thickened some more.
Daisy accepted the cigarette, looking at it with slightly unfocused eyes and a silly grin. She took a puff, tasting the smoke without inhaling as if it was a cigar. Nonetheless, her handling was exquisitely feminine, and I watched carefully, lust rising. Daisy repeated her first puff, and I watched Giselle’s amusement. “Are you scared?” she teased. Daisy blushed and nodded, saying something about bad experiences with cigars. Giselle took a long, deep drag ending in a flamboyant open-mouthed inhale, eyes lidded. After she exhaled, Giselle said, “These are too rare to only get half the picture. C’mere… I’ll show you.” My wife dragged and leaned forward, exhaling at Daisy’s mouth. My ex-girlfriend caught on near the end of Giselle’s exhale, and sucked a little bit of the smoke into her mouth.
After a quick, thin exhale, Daisy excitedly said, “OK… OK… Try it again.” She leaned forward to accept Giselle’s next exhale. She turned her head away and exhaled towards the ceiling, causing my cock to strain against the front of my pants. The two women swapped smoke once more, after which Giselle purred, “Are you ready?”
Daisy nodded eagerly, and Giselle held the cigarette for her. Daisy leaned forward, and took an enormous drag. She lifted her chin, thick smoke started streaming from her nose, and halfway through the exhale, she sent the remainder into the air through her lips. “Mmmm… I can see why you like them. May I?” My wife handed her the still incredibly long cigarette. Daisy leaned back into the sofa, crossed her legs, and french-inhaled the next smooth drag with the cigarette held vertically between limp-wristed, manicured fingers.
I was ready to cum on the spot. My dick throbbed angrily, but I thought I had been forgotten, an illusion shattered by Daisy softly calling my name. Although I was already watching lustfully, Daisy performed an incendiary open-mouthed inhale and with a toss of her hair, very slowly exhaled a long, long, narrow stream from the “O” of her lips. Mesmerized, I barely heard Giselle ask for the cigarette. “Let’s share,” Daisy said, taking another smooth, easy drag. She sat up and gently pulled Giselle to her… and exhaled smoke into my wife’s mouth, giggling, “Haven’t done this since college, with my old roommate.”
Giselle’s light flush and dreamy exhale made my heart beat faster. “I think I was seventeen and still in boarding school,” she rejoined. “Gimme.” Daisy handed the 164 back after taking another hit. Giselle immediately took a draw with a quick snap-inhale. I watched the two sexiest smokers in my world exhale simultaneously with feminine glamor, and I knew that Giselle was going to be thrilled for a long time tonight. Daisy extended her hand and wiggled it with her fingers splayed, indicating that she wanted the 164 again, now only slightly longer than a 100. Instead, my wife dragged and leaned quickly to Daisy’s face, exhaling forcefully.
Daisy sucked the smoke into her lungs and exhaled quickly, freely with a graceful curve in her neck while Giselle was taking another deep drag. She leaned to Daisy again and pecked her on the lips after exhaling. Daisy opened her mouth to exhale Giselle’s smoke, but my wife kissed her. Their lips met, their mouths merged and Daisy, acting without any thought, eagerly pulled Giselle to her.
I’d honestly never imagined Daisy and Giselle together, if for no other reason than it was so far out of the realm of possibility I had never thought of it. I was so shocked that my rock-hard penis barely registered. They kissed until Daisy’s eyes popped open in shock as if she suddenly realized what she was doing. She let go of Giselle’s head and backed away from her on the sofa stammering, “I’m… I’m sorry, Giselle… I better leave…” My wife cooed no, flushed and ready to sex, but Daisy continued to babble, “I’m fine, really, it’s only a couple hundred yards to my place…”
Giselle held onto Daisy’s hand. Her creamy complexion glowed a faint pink, visible from across the room. “No…” whispered Giselle huskily, “Stay,” and she pulled Daisy to her for another kiss. I could see Daisy’s inner struggle with her libido reflected on her face. Daisy was horny, without companionship for the next week, and Giselle had lit the fuse. Obviously conflicted, my ex-girlfriend wobbled, sitting upright, and when Giselle gently tugged at her, Daisy leaned forward and met my wife’s open mouth. Daisy’s eyes fluttered as they separated. Nothing happened for a few eternal seconds.
Suddenly, Giselle uncaringly dropped the cigarette into the ashtray, and Daisy eagerly reached for her face with both hands. I was in fantasy overload watching my past and my future kiss passionately in the present. I made a noise, causing the women to stop. Daisy looked at me, half-longing, and half-worried. “It’s alright, Daisy,” Giselle gently breathed, “You can stay with both of us tonight.” My wife pulled my ex-girlfriend back to her for another kiss before looking at me. “Any argument, honey? If so…” She picked up the box of 164s and waved it. “Ve haff vays uff makink you cooperate.”
I suggested going to the bedroom. Giselle stood quickly, lost her balance, and fell back onto the sofa, giggling, “Still drunk!” Daisy made her way to the bedroom on unsteady feet while I retrieved Giselle, who grabbed me and gave me a torrid, torrid kiss.
I undressed Giselle first, who plopped onto the bed gasping, “Oh god I’m so horny!” Daisy climbed on top of her and began kissing her way to my wife’s pussy without hesitation, unfortunately leaving me without any angle to enter her pussy. Giselle shook and moaned—loudly—as Daisy gave her head, and all I could do was watch.
I think my frustrated peep made Daisy stop what she was doing, and after Giselle settled down, she asked, “Who gets first dibs?”
“On your back, sweetie. I wanna ride your face,” Giselle said. Daisy immediately flopped onto her back and spread her legs, resolving the question of for whom the directive was intended. The buzz of alcohol faded as soon as the tip of my cock met Daisy’s bush. I slowly pushed my way into her with an accompanying squishy sound, making her moan into Giselle’s muff. Daisy’s pussy was hot, sloppily wet, and gave no resistance to my increasingly frenzied thrusts. Juices sloshed freely with every movement of my dick, but she somehow managed to give my wife the oral attention she was wanting until I felt my cock swell. Then Daisy started fucking back at me, forcing me to concentrate on not cumming. I looked down at her, gasping and turning red as she approached orgasm. When they were able to focus, her eyes took on that magical, dewy look that spoke directly to my soul, and for a few ecstatic moments, we were again the lovers we had been in our college years.
Suddenly, Giselle appeared alongside me and kissed me hungrily. I groaned into her mouth, my eyes rolled up into my head, and with a powerful, painful heave, I shot a massive, fiery blob of cum into Daisy. “AAAUUGGGGHHHHH!!!!” Daisy’s guttural, hoarse, orgasmic scream filled the room. My wife continued to work her tongue in my mouth with a passion I hadn’t felt since we were new to each other. My nuts twisted again, more fire lanced through my dick, and Daisy’s hips shot towards the ceiling, oscillating wildly, her pussy locked around my dick as if to shake every drop out. It was almost as if I was under the influence of the sex powder while the three of us were frozen in our intimate dance, Daisy humping wildly, Giselle kissing, me cumming in enormous pulses. Daisy gave one last skyward thrust, and collapsed onto the bed with a softer scream. I kept fucking, giving her a constant series of tiny orgasms until my balls were completely empty, and I could no longer stay inside her. Only then did my wife stop kissing me. She pulled me to the left for my collapse, leaving me in the middle of both women. Giselle lay on her side, only slightly less flushed than earlier, with a horny, loving smile on her face. She gently placed Daisy’s hand on mine, and then lightly ran her hand over my heaving chest.
Nobody spoke for a few minutes. Daisy was the first to make any noise, issuing a satisfied groan. “Ummm… ‘Zelle?” I tentatively began. “What the hell just happened?”
“Not that I’m not grateful,” Daisy chimed in, still slightly out-of-breath. “But you’re full of surprises.”
“I always thought you were cute, but I never thought you were into women,” my wife answered. “My husband told me a lot about you, but he left that out.” She giggled drunkenly. “You don’t know how surprised—and excited—I was when I realized that this wasn’t going to be Will’s first ménage-a-trois.”
I didn’t want to make it seem that I was pushing for a three-way with my ex. Daisy sat up and gently ribbed, “Y’know Will, there are times when you shouldn’t be such a gentleman. You shoulda told. We coulda been doing this since—I got divorced.” Giselle agreed, and I mentally kicked myself for missed opportunities. “So what made you…?”
“When you talked about having been to a sex club on multiple occasions, and taking that sex powder and what it did to you…” Giselle resumed after pecking me on the lips. “Then I saw the way you looked at me when we were swapping smoke, I… took a chance. I figured I could pass it off as drunkenness if I was wrong.”
“Oh, you weren’t wrong,” Daisy sang.
Seeing that I was still confused (and a little weirded out, despite how awesome it had been to make love with Daisy again,) Giselle smiled and said, “My darling, unimaginative husband, I learned almost everything I know about sex from girls. I lost my cherry to a classmate’s vibrator. My first intercourse was from a friend wearing a strap-on dildo. Then we swapped. I didn’t actually get to fuck a boy until I was eighteen—at Princeton.” Her candor made me ask if she was still drunk. “Yes… and still horny. Not that I don’t love our kids, but I have to get all the sex in I can when they’re not around, so I’m going to be like this for the rest of the week. Any complaints?” Her tongue peeked out from her teeth as she gave me a fetching smile. “But guests cum first, and you need to recover some more, so I’m going to get another drink.”
Excitedly, Daisy offered, “I’ve got something that can help with that.” When Giselle asked whether it was for the drink or the recovery, Daisy answered, “Recovery,” as she scrambled to get dressed. I gave her a warning look at the door, but she smiled and said, “No, it’s not that.” before she shot out of the villa with a cheery, “Be right back!”
“Ooooh,” said Giselle, “I hope it’s some of that sex powder. That sounds like fun!” I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t as much fun as she thought it was, but decided not to reveal that particular episode from my single life.
Five minutes later, Daisy returned with a prescription bottle and a fresh pack of Virginia Slim Light 120s. She tossed me the bottle, which apparently contained Viagra. “Isn’t that for guys who have trouble getting it up due to old age?” Giselle commented, looking over my shoulder at it.
“Dan—my friend—is fifty-one, and, well, I wasn’t going to take any chances for this week. It’s been two long months,” Daisy admitted. Her eyes went horny, and she throatily added, “Just imagine what it’ll do for a healthy young stud like Will.”
Giselle inhaled noisily, and both women stared at me with predatory, excited gazes. “Take the pill, baby,” panted Giselle, drooling. “Now.” A half-hour later, I was lying on my back flanked by Giselle and Daisy, each a smoking Virginia Slim 120, while all three of us watched my cock rise, untouched. “Wow,” breathed my wife, already flushed.
“Here, lemme make him ready faster,” Daisy excitedly said. She drew on her cigarette, leaned to my half-hard cock, and, exhaling smoke through her nose as she went, took me into her mouth and bobbed her head a couple of times. Her eyes sparkled at me when she released it, and then Daisy effortlessly dove to the root of my cock, swirling her head for emphasis. Giselle gasped loudly, asking Daisy how she did that with fascinated amazement, as Daisy repeatedly took all of my expanding length, finishing with a slow, drooling excursion to my pubic hair when I was fully erect. “How’s that, Giselle?”
My wife exhaled, “C’est fantastique!” and rolled onto her back with her legs spread wide. “Baise-moi, cheri… ohhh… baise-moi!” I plunged my wooden dick into her and settled into an easy rhythm. Giselle whimpered and moaned softly, her eyes rolling loosely in her head, gasping an occasional endearment or epithet in French. My cock became covered in her thick, white, gooey pussy cream as her body turned pink in her sex flush, but it seemed as if she couldn’t cum. Hips churning in perfect time with my smooth thrusts, Giselle danced along orgasm’s edge for a seeming eternity, thrilled by my rock-hard dick beyond verbal expression.
For my part, the chemically enhanced erection felt odd. It wasn’t the hypersensitive iron bar of the sex powder; if anything, it was less sensitive than normal, yet I was hard. There was none of the normal ebb-and-flow during sex. Added to my normal reduced sensitivity during a second round of sex, I felt like I could fuck all night. Giselle began to vibrate beneath me and clamped her hands on my hips. The vibrations got bigger and bigger until her entire, gloriously pink body was moving in waves. Loud slurping sounds came from her fibrillating pussy. She oscillated quietly, constantly in her prolonged orgasm, finally relaxing and going completely slack, babbling softly in French much too rapidly for me to comprehend. I pulled out, still absolutely rigid. “Never seen her cum like that before,” I murmured to myself.
Footsteps reminded me that we weren’t alone. “Wow,” Daisy exhaled, looking at Giselle and then my creamy cock. “Thought you two might like some privacy,” she whispered. “But it looks like you’re not finished yet.” She continued to gaze at my erection as if spellbound.
“I want you now, Daisy,” I very softly said. She dropped her robe, knelt, and lovingly cleaned Giselle’s cream from my cock. I answered the question in her eyes with a brief shake of my head. Daisy lay on her back, cocked her legs, and we were joined once again as lovers, our eyes locked into each other’s soul as we made slow, gentle love next to my insensate wife.
My wooden dick sent Daisy to a powerful, crying, gasping orgasm, but there was none of my own in response. It was actually a little frustrating. The Viagra kept me able, made it pleasurable, but not enough for me to finish. After a few moments of cuddling, I took my frustration and three-quarters erection into the living room—where I encountered my wife, smoking a Virginia Circle in her cloisonné holder. I hadn’t even noticed her departure or absence in the bed.
“Is she asleep?” asked Giselle. I nodded. “Watching you two was… an arousing… education.” Shit. I fucked her sober. I opened my mouth to say something. “Don’t interrupt, cheri.” She dragged on her holder, looking regal and sexy; I felt my cock twitch and looked down to see that I was fully erect again. “Oh, we’ll take care of that in a little bit,” sang Giselle, adding, “you’re blushing.” Her eyes were fixed on my erection. “You know what that does to me—and I’m still horny.” She dragged, french-inhaled, and exhaled glamorously, posing for me.
“Ohhh! P’tain, c’est beau!” exclaimed Giselle, my thrusts pushing her into the sofa. She gripped the cushions to give her some leverage to thrust back at me. My seemingly bionic cock sent her on a rapid trip to orgasm, but she recovered quickly and encouraged me to keep going in breathy, excited French. “Ohhh… ohhh… je vais… jouir… cheri… Je… je… Ahhhhhnnn!”
I felt her cumming around my cock, which tingled pleasantly, but was still some ways off from my ejaculation, leaning forward on my hands, pumping smoothly at her. Suddenly, I heard Daisy’s voice whisper, “Surprise,” and something slick and soft slid into my asshole. I had a moment of recognition: she was going for my prostate with her finger. Then my nuts tightened immensely, my hips jerked on their own, and I rammed into Giselle once, forcefully. An intense, searing burn ripped through my suddenly hypersensitive dick and I loudly grunted, “Giselle!” My hips quivered as my body generated the next volley, and I instinctively rammed into my wife as hard as I could a split-second before I fired again. I heard her ecstatic scream, which I answered with a loud, hoarse grunt. Daisy’s finger was still in my ass, playing with my prostate, causing me to make a loud, primitive noise each time I drove Giselle into the sofa cushions with the violent thrust that prefaced each immensely pleasurable wad of cum I shot deep into my wife’s pussy.
When it ended, my legs turned to jelly, then water, and I collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving. My cock finally went soft. I remember Daisy giving me a kiss and barely having enough energy to kiss her back, and then Giselle’s tongue was working feverishly in my mouth, all I could see, hear or sense was her and then…
I woke up alone on the floor of the villa’s living room the next morning, with sunlight streaming through the drawn blinds. That was one hell of a dream. I removed the light cover that Giselle had apparently thrown over my naked body. I stood up slowly. My legs were a little sore, my back hurt, and my brain was still half-asleep. I took three steps towards the kitchen, and suddenly, I heard noises coming from the bedroom. It was Daisy, in heat, and it jolted me awake. It wasn’t a dream. I bolted to the bedroom to see my wife’s head between an orgasmic Daisy’s legs. Giselle was playing Daisy’s clit with her mouth and one hand, while the other was apparently moving in and out of Daisy. Speechless, I could only watch and get hard again, but my full bladder forced me to turn away and go to the bathroom. When I came out, Daisy’s chest was heaving, and Giselle was taking a huge draw on a Virginia Slim 120 with a smug expression on her face. “Sorry, but I’m way out of practice,” she smirked.
Daisy responded, “Ohhh… shit… if that’s your out of practice…” with a moan and orgasmic roll of the eyes. “She eats pussy almost as well as you do, Will.” So much for being undetected. Daisy struggled to a half-sitting position and Giselle handed her the cigarette. “We would’ve had a lot of fun with you when we were young, Giselle,” Daisy remarked after a silent, all-oral exhale.
“Feeling’s mutual, sweetie,” replied Giselle. “But I need food, and Will’s getting hard again. I’d better get started on breakfast before I get—distracted—again. That Viagra stuff really works.” She climbed out of the bed, pausing as she passed me. Giselle gave me a hungry look, inhaled noisily, and sighed, “No, better not, or else I’ll pass out in the middle of having sex.”
Daisy left after a quiet breakfast. I don’t think any of us knew how to approach the now-awkward dynamic. Giselle and I had been given a third wheel, and instead of letting Daisy go as per normal convention, we’d built a tricycle that was much more fun and sturdy than any of us could have imagined. My wife and I barely spoke after Daisy’s departure; Giselle went to the beach, while I took a nap. Later, as the two of us worked together in the kitchen preparing dinner, there was none of the teasing banter that normally marked our relationship. Finally, I spoke up. “‘Zelle… What are we going to do about Daisy?” My wife blushed. “Look, I could say that it was fun, but that I’m done with that and I just want to spend the rest of our vacation with only you. But I’d be lying.” She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. “I also think and correct me immediately if I’m wrong, but if you said the same, you’d be lying, too.”
Very quietly, Giselle affirmed that my understanding was correct. “But at the same time… I’m jealous. For the first time in our relationship, I’m jealous of how… special you two are to each other. I can feel it.” She looked away and heaved a loud, long sigh. “Even with that, I know you’re still my husband. You’re not going anywhere because she… still doesn’t want the permanent relationship. Personally, Will, I think she should have married you long before I entered the picture. But her loss has been my gain.” Giselle wrapped her arms around me before resuming, “As for returning to a traditional relationship… Daisy is a lot of fun in bed. I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed—a feminine touch.”
“So… you’d like to play with her some more, too.” Giselle nodded right away. “‘Zelle… how come you’ve never mentioned this before?”
“Because I wasn’t sure how you’d react to finding out that I could be such a little sex freak,” was her forthright reply. “Frankly, I didn’t want to scare you away. Engineering professor, really smart, sweet guy… You seemed very traditional, and I know how important it is not to be… unconventional around traditional people. I took your smoking kink and ran with it because it made you…” Her eyes fluttered and she inhaled sharply. “Very fulfilling. I didn’t miss the variety because… well, you eat pussy almost like a girl, and you’re so gentle and tender in bed by nature that I… got used to having it all-in-one, so to speak.” She put her arms around my neck and looked deeply into my eyes. “If I had known that Daisy was bisexual… I would have brought it up, but she never gave me so much as a clue until last night. Of course, I wasn’t looking, either.”
“She never hinted to me, either, and I’ve known that she’s bisexual ever since she discovered it. I think she put both of us off-limits once you and I got together. You’ve noted how well she hides her attraction for me on several occasions.”
“Even when she smoke-flirts you, Will, she does it knowing full well that I’m going to be the recipient of the resulting excitement,” Giselle said. “She still enjoys doing it, she enjoys seeing your reaction, but she’s not willing to go any further than that. At least until tonight.” My wife said, “But all of this still doesn’t answer the question.”
I took a deep breath and slowly offered, “At the risk of sounding like the boy who wants everything, what if we… made a rule about Daisy? Neither of us can play with her unless we’re together—and we both agree.”
My wife smiled. “I think I can be good with that.” Her tongue peeked through her teeth, a sign that she was excited. “I knew I married a smart guy.” I asked her not to call Daisy that night. Although I was getting hard again just thinking about another three-way, my dick was a little tender. Her face fell, but brightened when I told her that the following night was a definite possibility.
We couldn’t convince Daisy to come over the following night for dinner. She didn’t answer our calls the day after that, nor did we see her on the beach. Giselle and I showed up at the door to her villa unannounced late that afternoon. “We know you’re in there alone, Daisy,” my wife called through the door. “We’re not leaving until—” Even as the door opened, Daisy was walking away. “Where you headed, gorgeous?” purred Giselle.
“Away,” Daisy replied without looking. “So I don’t ruin your marriage.” A soft sob came from her.
“You’re not going to ruin my marriage,” Giselle softly replied. “I know how much Will means to you, I saw it two days ago… but I also know that you won’t marry him. Why you didn’t before we met, I don’t know, but all of us, especially Will, know that ship has sailed.” She had caught up with Daisy and rested her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “But you are incredibly hot and fun in bed for both of us, so we have a proposition for you.” Daisy turned around, but looked at the floor. “Will wants to have sex with you really badly,” Giselle resumed, making me blush. “I, on the other hand, want to have hot sex with you when… it’s doable without turning into a cause célèbre. He and I have to keep appearances and work around the kids, but by now I’m sure you’ve realized that I enjoy being—unconventional.” Daisy looked at Giselle. “So Will and I have created a ‘Daisy rule.’ In short, neither Will nor I can play with you on our own. We both have to be present, and we both have to be willing—” Giselle turned to me. “—which actually may be a bigger issue for Will than it is for me.”
“So what does this mean?” asked Daisy, her eyes darting alertly from Giselle to me.
“It means that we have three more days of privacy in paradise,” I said. “I’m ordering room service; your place or ours?”
“Ooooohhhh… Willlll,” Daisy deliriously sighed while my dick slid the length of her ass. “Ohhhh… you fuck… you fuck… my ass so goooood…” Giselle watched from a chair, naked and lightly fingering herself. Anal sex wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, so when Daisy asked if we could, my wife happily assented. While she had started watching with just curiosity, Giselle had shucked her clothes and started to play with herself, encouraging me with her eyes.
I began to play with Daisy’s clit, making her gurgle and vibrate while I continued driving my cock into her as far as I could, and a tingle from the slick, tight friction broke out along its length. Daisy started to moan, hoarse and loud, preceding her ejaculation by a few seconds, accompanied by a very loud, hoarse, guttural cry. I gritted my teeth and fought the increasing urge to cum. “OHHHH, WILL, IT’S SO IT’S SO… AUUUGHHH!” screamed Daisy as more pussy juice hit the bed with a soft splat. Suddenly, I felt my wife’s hand on mine, feverishly working on Daisy’s clit and her other hand in Daisy’s pussy. “Ohgod no!” Daisy exhaled frantically. “Giselle… don’t… Giselle… stop! Gi-gi-gi… OHHHH… OHMY… OHMY…” Daisy groaned over and over. Finally, she squeaked, “Fuck!” in an amazingly high-pitched voice, bucked once, triggering my own ejaculation. A flood of woman cum shot from her pussy while I blissfully filled her ass. We collapsed onto the bed.
“Wow,” said Giselle in a small voice. “Never seen a girl cum that hard.”
“Only… only… Will…” Daisy panted, her body still quivering, “makes me… shootlikethat.” I felt a swell of pride at that. “His cock is sooo perfect for my ass…” She drew a deep breath. “And never been… diddled like that while he’s fucking me. Wow!”
“Happy to help, sweetie,” Giselle giggled. “Go clean up, Will. You and Daisy owe me for that, and I’m going to collect before the night is over!”
The rest of the week was powered by Viagra, with Daisy on the receiving end of my thrusts slightly more often than Giselle, who seemed quite happy to let me fuck my ex-girlfriend—in exchange for some intimate girl-girl time. “Well,” Daisy said on the way to the airport, “this week has certainly been a revelation. Giselle, you are just so full of surprises!”
“It’s been a lot of fun, Daisy. You’re a lot of fun,” Giselle responded. “We have to do this again… but not too soon—Will’s going to need some time to recover.” She giggled and gave me a squeeze.
Daisy gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek when we separated at the airport. “I promise, I’ll take good care of him ‘til the next time,” Giselle softly said, noticing the complicated expression on Daisy’s face. “And there will be a next time. I promise that, too.”
The last story I’ll tell about Daisy isn’t really mine, but Giselle’s, and it illustrates just how close the three of us have become. About a year and a half after our magical week in the Caribbean, Daisy came to my wife’s rescue—perhaps saving our marriage in the process. The phone rang in our house at about one in the morning, waking me from a sound sleep. “Will… I’m sorry… but… but… I… ohhhh… SHIT! I’m so damn horny!” were the first words that she said, and I snapped to full alertness. “I don’t…” she gasped, obviously masturbating. “I can’t… fly home like this!”
I instantly knew what was happening. “Giselle, drink water,” I ordered. “As much as you can, as often as you can.”
“Wh-wh-what will that do?” she panted. I told her that it would help, but that it would also allow her to keep masturbating to give her some measure of relief. “I can’t believe… that… that… I keep…” She dropped the phone. A few minutes later, Giselle picked it up and moaned, “Ohh fuck… I’m… getting… horny again… Will… I’m sorry… but I need to be fucked now. I’m afraid to leave the hotel room.”
“I can’t leave the kids, and I wouldn’t be able to get there for two days.” My wife began to cry, sobbing in between gasps of increasing arousal. “Stop masturbating long enough to drink a liter of water,” I reminded her. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some help.” I called Daisy’s mobile phone.
“Hey Will! What’s up? It’s awful late for you to be calling,” she cheerfully noted. “I’m just about to leave for the office.”
“Giselle went to the sex club and got dosed,” I tersely said. “She’s in her hotel room masturbating constantly.”
Daisy gasped, and then turned serious. “She shouldn’t be alone. Where’s she staying, and what’s the room number? I can be there in… less than five hours. I’m sure I can catch the next Eurostar over. Time’s wasting… gotta put a bag together. I’ll call you when things are more… stable.”
I called Giselle back a few times before reaching her. “Sorry,” she said, “I was in the tub, getting head from the faucet. I’m really tender and it itches sooo much… I managed to cancel my return flight. Will… I’m sorry… I was curious.”
“Daisy’s on her way,” I said, not worried about her apologies or the fact that she’d definitely been with other men. It was much more important that I keep her from dehydrating any more than she already was, and keeping her from seeking companionship to cool the flames of the heat. “She said she’ll be there within five hours. I’m going to stay on the line and coach you through this until she gets there.” I talked dirty to my wife, joining her in a long-distance masturbation at three-thirty in the morning, all the while constantly reminding her to drink water. I had to let her go to get the kids off to school, and when I got back, the answering machine was flashing.
“Got lucky with the train. I’m here with Giselle now,” came Daisy’s voice. It abruptly got more distant. “Giselle… stop. No… stop for a minute. Go get some more water, and then we’ll play.” The image made me hard, but I calmed myself by thinking about the fact that Giselle was drugged and acting under the influence of the most powerful aphrodisiac I’d ever heard of, let alone encountered.
Daisy called me the next day. “She’s sleeping. I gave her some Ambien because she needs the rest. And so do I.” I asked her if that worked. “It will for two or three hours. Whoever dosed her gave her an awful lot.” Daisy paused. “She’s heartbroken, Will. She went to the club with clients, because she was curious about the super-burlesque. She didn’t know that they were going to drug her. She feels like she’s cheated on you and she’s really afraid that you’re going to want—”
“Tell her I don’t want one, that I know she’s not herself right now, and it will all be better when she gets home,” I said. “I know she’s afraid to talk to me because of what she thinks I’ll say.” Daisy acknowledged that. “Anyway, take good care of her, and let me know when she’s coming home. Make sure she can make it all the way without raping anybody before you send her.”
“I will,” Daisy said. There was a soft moan in the background. “Uh-oh… she’s stirring. Let me feed her some more water before she gets started up again. Talk to you when I can. Gotta go!”
“Ohhh, I can’t believe how horny I still am,” said Giselle. She was rapidly smoking one of the beige More Mild Menthol 120s she’d picked up while in Europe. Giselle had switched because both of her favorite Sherman’s were no longer being produced, and she’d bummed enough of mine that she’d been “converted” into a menthol smoker. We still had two cartons of the 164s, and one of the unfiltered Virginia Circles, but they were now reserved for special occasions, as were her cigarette holders for the most part. Although she preferred the beige 120s, their restriction to the European market and expense in importing on a regular basis made her choose something more readily available: Capri 120s. It didn’t take very long for me to get used to the superslims, because Giselle produced just as much smoke in the same enchanting way—the only thing missing were the cigarette holders, and I had to admit, there was something sexily feminine about the Capri 120s. She had even influenced her fashion-conscious youngest sister to change her own brand. Just as slim, but longer than the Vogues that Emmy, still model-gorgeous and smoking fetish-fantasy sizzling hot, had favored for a while, it only took one look at Giselle smoking a Capri 120 for her diva sister to start having them imported.
Daisy had sexed Giselle enough to send her home on Friday with some Ambien so she would sleep on the flight. I sent the kids to my parents for the weekend, and picked her up late Friday night. It took a major effort on Giselle’s part not to rape me in the car. She was still feeling the effects of the drug, but was now able to hold the heat off for increasing periods of time. “Ohhhh… I wish I’d brought back some Viagra, too,” she complained, unable to sit still. “The flight home was almost unbearable! I felt like I wanted to rape the whole first-class cabin—and then work my way towards the back through the rest of the plane.” Giselle fingered her clit and sucked in a loud breath. “Ohhh… I wish you could get ready faster… would it help if I grabbed a 164?”
“Drink more water,” I sympathetically counseled. “The only real cure for that stuff is to flush it out of your system. Give me another fifteen minutes before your next cigarette. I’m not as young as I used to be, and thank my parents for being able to take the kids over the weekend.”
“I’ll apologize to them later,” she called, heading for the bathroom. “Right now, all I want is cock. It’s almost the only thing I can think of.” Five minutes later, she was lighting another beige 120, this time in the wedding holder. I could see her struggle to maintain her normal smoking glamour, but everything looked rushed and impatient. She couldn’t stand still or keep her eyes off my slowly recovering cock. The heat affected everything. Suddenly, Giselle shuddered and settled down for a few seconds. “Will… I’m sorry,” she apologized for the twentieth time. “I didn’t—”
“It’s all right, ‘Zelle,” I soothingly reassured her for the twentieth time. “You weren’t—and still aren’t—yourself.” Maybe if I’d confessed this wouldn’t have happened. My cock twitched as Giselle tilted her head back and slowly released two thick streams from her nose with the holder at the end of her extended arm and exquisitely, effeminately, cocked wrist. “Good news, honey,” I smiled.
“Ohhh, thank god!” she exhaled with relief before diving for my cock and slurping it into her mouth. Giselle alternated sucking on my cock and sucking on her holdered cigarette, making me hard enough to fuck within minutes. She crushed the cigarette out, plopped onto her back, and growled, “Fuck me!”
A few minutes after our second frenzied fuck in the three hours since she’d walked into the house, Giselle spat an epithet in French. “Still horny?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she wearily sighed. “I can feel it starting again. How much water do I need to drink?”
“A lot more than you’d think. You have to account for sweat and sexual lubrication. It’s real easy to get dehydrated with that stuff.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience with this. Did you and Daisy—”
“Not together,” I sighed, “but I’ve been to the sex club, too.” Anticipating her next question, I replied, “I didn’t tell you because I sucked a guy’s cock—more than once there.” My stomach turned at the almost fifteen-year-old memory. “Frankly, outside of the drug’s influence, the thought is still—less than appealing.”
“Oh. I see.” She lit another beige 120, but this time, her visible effort at being elegant and sexy succeeded, indicating that she was a little less affected by the heat. However, her prolonged glance at my flaccid member told me that it would still be a while before she was back to normal. “Thank goodness I don’t have to travel for another three weeks. Will it wear off by then?”
“I’m guessing that it will,” I replied, “but it seems that whoever dosed you really wanted to get into your pants. You’re acting like you got a lot of the drug.”
“Will… ummmm…”
“You had sex with several men in a short period of time and felt like you wanted more than just those… three or four,” I interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re cursing yourself for breaking our wedding vows because of your weakness.”
“I shouldn’t have even gone to the sex club!” she cried. “I don’t know what I was thinking!”
“Actually, the burlesque show is pretty good,” I rejoined. “But the heat—that’s what I nicknamed it—doesn’t care about moral commitments. In fact, the drug is designed to lower sexual inhibitions to an extreme. It’s almost tasteless, colorless, and dissolves really well in champagne—to the point where you wouldn’t know if you were being drugged or not. I forgive you—completely. Just don’t do it again, please. I’m not sure I can keep up with the—” I moaned as my wife began to fellate me again. “—demands.” My poor, tender, middle-aged cock complained, but it slowly rose to the occasion.
“Nothing but 164s and cigarette holders for you the rest of the weekend,” Giselle husked.
The three of us still manage to get together at least once a year, sometimes twice, and one year, our schedules actually gave us two long weekends and a five-day Christmas holiday at the executive villas. Sure, we’re all older, the sex is a little less epic (and leaves us sore much more often), but Daisy and Giselle are still very, very sexy when they smoke. For my fiftieth birthday, the two loves of my life spirited me away for a week in Jamaica.
My Virginia Slim Daisy had remained single ever since her divorce. We asked her about the possibility of a permanent relationship. “Will, you’re the only person I’d ever even remotely consider marrying,” she told us. Daisy lit a Virginia Slim 120 in her signature, now-vintage, mother-of-pearl holder. “But, since you’re taken, I don’t worry about it.” I watched her tilted-chin, silent exhale with thick nasal residuals, and felt the blood move as it always had for her. She hadn’t lost the mischievous twinkle in her eyes that said she was intentionally doing it to excite me, either. “I’m still a… difficult, complicated girl,” she freely admitted, “even at fifty-one. If anything, I’m even more set in my ways. I like my life as it is. I get the sex I want without the legal, financial… and emotional entanglements. Besides, some of these younger guys are downright hot— they make me wet myself just looking at them, even if they do end up being a little on the selfish side when it comes to sex. The biggest problem I have these days is being a smoker, although, from time to time, I meet a hot guy for whom the taboo does seem to enhance my allure.” Daisy took another enchanting drag, slowly french-inhaled with lidded eyes, lifted her chin slightly, and exhaled slowly, silently towards the ceiling. “If not… I still can count on having you to seduce at least once a year.”
I blushed. My wife giggled, “You are so cute when you blush, old man. Let’s all go to bed.” She took one last drag from her Capri 120, exhaling languorously through her nose. Both women patted the bulge that had appeared, and the three of us headed for the bedroom.