Smoking Fetish Dark Side

Smoking Fetish Dark Side

smokingusa
A site devoted to the Dark Side of the Smoking Fetish

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Alice woke up to her usual deep hack. It was deep in her chest and using all the oxygen she could suck in she dragged herself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Even as her damaged lungs struggled to eject the toxins and mucus that had built up over the course of her smoking yesterday she was reaching for her cigarettes. But this morning she seemed to feel the pain in her chest a little more the she normally did, she was more aware of the wheezing and the rattling deep in her lungs. Finally she had enough control over the coughing to light her first cigarette of the day. She took a drag, the deadly smoke flooding her body with nicotine, coating her lungs with tar, and making her heart pound. Desperately she sucked on the cigarette till it was down to the butt. She light the second one off the butt of the first and took a deep drag. After the second cigarette Alice pulled herself to her feet and made her way to the bathroom. On the toilet she smoked a third cigarette. She showered, the steam making her cough. She spat the yellow/brown phlegm onto the floor of the shower letting the water carry it away. She dried off and dressed, before making her way to the kitchen, lighting up a fourth cigarette. Gasping she sat at the kitchen table and started on her new meds. The struggle to get going in the morning had finally made her cave and visit the doctor and she’d been diagnoused with early stage emphysema. The new prescriptions were helping and with their help she lit a fifth cigarette, the comforting buzz of nicotine now coursing through her body. Bill placed the bowl of cereal in front of her. “How are you feeling?” He asked. Alice offered him a yellow teethed smile. “Great.” She said. “The new inhalers are working terrific. I feel like I can actually get the smoke deep into my lungs again.” “We really haven’t talked about… it.” Bill said. “What’s there to talk about?” Alice asked, crushing her cigarette out in the ashtray. “I’m not going to be able to quit. I’m too addicted.” She looked at him. “You said you were cool with it.” She said, not quite accusingly.
“I am.” Bill said. “I love the way you smoke. It’s just… not healthy.” Alice sighed. “Bill.” She said. “Get this into your thick skull. I’m 31 years old. I smoke two to three packs of cigarettes a day. Remember when we calculated it out and got 25 pack years? I’ve been smoking since I was 13. This was inevitable unless I’d been able to quit the day we met.” She light up another cigarette, not because she needed it but because the inhalers had opened her lungs enough that she could and she was feeling a little defiant. The drag was a little too heavy for her damaged aveoli and it made her cough. A deep, rough, hack that rattled in her chest. She took a tissue and ejected mucus into it. Then she took another, not as hard drag. “Bill, I’m going to be that woman who’s 40 and looks 60, I’m going to be hitched to an oxygen tank, sleeping in a chair because I can’t lie down. And if I don’t suffocate I’m going to die of lung cancer. Emphysema is a terminal diagnosis.” She took another drag. More coughing. She took a few wheezing breaths and said “Get used to my cough Bill. It’s there because there’s no cilia left to sweep the tar out of my airways. Get used to that wheeze, it’s caused by my airsacs being ruptured, trapping air in my lungs which narrows the passages for the rest of my airsacs to get oxygen. Not to mention this delicious smoke.” She took another drag. Bill, rock hard under the table nodded. “I know.” He said. “I own the Smokers Center. I’ve seen the smokers who come in, some with oxygen tanks, some too out of breath to talk right away. If you want to kill yourself with smoking, I’ll help you every step of the way.” He stood up, and Alice could see the effect she’d had by looking at the crotch of his pants. He crossed to her and kissed her, tasting her ashtray breath, enjoying the smell of the smoke on her hair.
“It’s not that I want to Bill.” Alice corrected, finishing the cigarette and crushing it in the ashtray. “It’s that I’m too addicted to quit.”
There are some things people don’t seem to realize about living with not just a heavy smoker but a chainsmoker. So here’s my rundown.
First the smell. My wife has smelled like cigarettes since I’ve known her. She could have just bathed and she still smells like cigarettes. The house reeks of cigarettes. A smoker who smokes more then 3, and sometimes more then 4 packs in a day, isn’t going outside every time they have to smoke. They need to smoke indoors because they’re constantly smoking. Your clothes, your furniture, your car, the bed, everything’s saturated with the smell of burning tobacco.
Second the stuff you see. In winter there’s likely a haze in the house. The walls will look dirty. Ash will blow out of the ashtrays and you’ll have to dust more. Speaking of ashtrays they’ll be everywhere, near all the furniture, on all the tables, and one next to the bed. Looking around my kitchen now I count 4. Next to the stove for when she’s cooking, next to the sink for when she’s doing dishes, and one by the back counter, for when she’s preparing something or finishing a cigarette when she’s about to leave out the back door. All have cigarette butts in them but the one on the kitchen table it the most full, it currently has 8 butts in it from last night before, during, and after dinner and this morning from breakfast. Every ashtray in the house almost always have butts in them.
Third, the cigarettes. There will be packs everywhere. Full packs, empty pack, open packs. EVERYWHERE. My wife never leaves the house without a second full pack, and tries to bring a third, and she never goes anywhere without one of her three zippo lighters. She’s got others lying around, but keeps these three close to her always having one in her pocket. The cigarettes are something she can’t live without. My wife is terrified of running out and keeps a minimum of two spare cartons on her dresser.
Which brings me to Fourth, the addiction. Smokers are addicted, but chainsmokers are a whole different level of addicted. Do not hide cigarettes or lighters from heavy smokers. If you’re somewhere they can’t smoke be patient with their crankiness and mood swings. Expect them to smoke constantly, because most the the time they will, they have to satisfy that addiction, it’s more important then anything, even breathing. I’ve had a couple times during foreplay where my wife will stop me for a moment and light up a cigarette. She’s just that addicted. She’ll wake up at all hours of the night, to smoke.
Fifth, the health impact. A heavy smoker is going to have health problems sooner or later. The first is going to be a cough, maybe a small dry one at first. But my wife, who has chronic bronchitis, has a heavy wet hack. She coughs on and off all the time, but especially in the evenings. After a normal days of smoking, she’ll be coughing pretty frequently from like 7pm-10pm. And she’ll absolutely cough in the mornings. For my wife it’s about 9 minutes of absolute bottom of the lungs hacking. And it’s not just the breathing. Her skin will start to look worse and she’ll develop lines around her mouth and eyes. Her teeth and fingers will be stained yellow. She’ll get out of breath very easily and her voice will get deeper.
Finally sixth, the true mark of a heavy smoker/chainsmoker, no matter what, she’ll always light up another cigarette.
Alice woke up coughing and desperate for a cigarette. The open pack had had ten perfect little cylinders left when she’d gone to bed but an early morning smoke session had reduced the number to six. As she lit one, wincing with every painful cough, she thought to herself “Some people need midnight snacks, I need midnight cigarettes.” The cigarette worked its magic, calming the turmoil in her brain, and soothing the edge of her anxiety. She tapped out the cigarette. Her breathing was still difficult and she took the rest of the pack and stepped into the bathroom. Her inhaler sat on the counter. When she’d first got it to help with her asthma she’d barely used it. Then as breathing, especially in the mornings, had become more difficult, she’d started using it more and more. And just a few days ago she’d had the humiliating experience of asking her doctor to refill it.
Now she used it every morning and most evenings. And once or twice during the day, she admitted to herself, especially after being confronted with stairs or physical activity. She took a puff and the medication opened her lungs up. With the sudden dilation in her airways the phlegm now came up. Alice leaned on the counter and spat mucus into her sink. After the last cough she took a deep breath and her lungs let out a high pitched wheeze with it. It was a sound she hated. The third cigarette of the day was making it into her body as she applied her makeup. She used the bathroom and dressed. The fourth was discarded to the walk on the car and the fifth was stubbed out while sitting in the drive through of a fast food place. She consumed her breakfast sandwich and then light the fifth cigarette. She sat in the corner of the parking lot, inside her car, and smoked it holding in the smoke, savoring the happy buzz inside her brain. She stubbed it out. She then took the cupholder ashtray she’d purchased and dumped the entire contraption into the garbage with the last cigarette she intended to smoke. She thought about it as she pulled out of the parking lot and threw her lighter out the window.
When Alice had last gone to the doctor her doctor had made the point that she needed and inhaler because of a situation she’d created. The doctor had encouraged Alice to quit smoking. Alice had given an autopilot “trying to cut back” answer. The doctor nodded and brought up her weight, pointing out her blood pressure and heart rate were high, and she was a risk factor for type two diabetes. Alice gave her an autopilot, “trying to eat healthier” answer. The doctor moved on. “Are you sexually active?” Alice replied in the negative. The doctor continued mentioning the flu shot and the usual garbage while Alice focused on not figeting as the itch for a cigarette bothered her. The doctor stood. “Are you dating?” She’d asked. Alice started blurted “No.” Then, “Not for a while.” The doctor looked meaningly at her chart “Why do you think that is?” She’d asked. Then left. Alice had slunk outside and lit a cigarette, deciding right there she was going to quit cold turkey and start working out.
The small custom computer and repair shop she worked at as a bookkeeper had a shredder and she ran her Smoker’s Center membership card through it and began the day. She was determined to quit. As Alice’s lungs started to recover from the smoke of the morning she began to cough more and more frequently. As lunch rolled around she was so desperate for a cigarette she could no longer focus on her work. She went outside and told her manager, an overweight nerd type who was currently working on building a custom PC that she didn’t feel well. He told her to go home and get some rest.
Alice drove home. Force of habit compelled her to almost pull into the Smoking Center’s parking lot but she managed to fight back the instinct. At home she parked and walked into her apartment building. She pushed the elevator button but then remembered her new health kick and took the stairs. It was a long hike for an overweight heavy smoking 28 year old but she made it, only having to pause once. The humiliation left her face red as she used her inhaler. She was panting when she reached her apartment.
She tried to watch TV but it was no use. She paced her apartment. At 5 she made dinner but she couldn’t eat it. Her body was screaming for nicotine and her lungs punished her with deep wracking coughs as they tried to purge her body of the toxins. By 7 she’d torn the apartment apart looking for a cigarette. At eight she decided to try to go to bed early. For nearly two hours she tossed and turned unable to remain still or sleep. Finally, humiliated, she admitted defeat. Sobbing Alice threw on a pair of tired yoga pants and a to small tee shirt and stumbled to the elevator, tears welling in her eyes. Her desperation for nicotine drove her past the curious stares of her neighbors and outside. She drove madly the few blocks to the store and stopped outside. The main lights were turned off and she ran, gasping to the door. She saw a shadow move inside and pounded on the door gasping for air.
Bill yawned as he put away the mop. Suddenly a pounding on the door made him jump. He spun around and then saw Alice. He hadn’t seen her in a while and she looked horrible. Normally the most factitious of dressers her clothes were ill fitting, her hair a disaster, her makeup running. And she’d been crying. Bill’s first thought was she’d been assaulted and he sprang to the door. He let her in and she collapsed into one of the courtesy chairs wheezing. She gasped “Please, a cigarette, please.” Bill’s mind went to his boss’ statement on the first day he’d worked there. “We’re legal drug dealers essentially and it’s fantastic” as he unlocked the cage leading behind the counter, grabbed a pack of Marlboro Blacks, Alice’s brand. He grabbed a lighter and tore the plastic wrapper off. He shook one out and Alice placed it in her mouth. He lit the cigarette and she dragged on the cigarette as hard as she could. Then she started coughing. Deep and ugly. But Alice forced the nicotine infused smoke into her lungs, feeling the desperation easing away from her.
Alice wanted to thank Bill but she couldn’t. Each drag was too precious. The cigarette was finished before she knew it. Bill had another ready for her and she lit it off the butt of the first one, and kept dragging. As she finished it she looked at Bill and he handed her another. She lit it and took a drag off of it. She looked at Bill. “Thank you, thank you so much. You saved my life.”
To Bill, who spent the day surrounded by surgeon general’s warnings the irony was palpable. “It’s no problem. Glad to be of service.”
Alice started crying again. “Are you ok?” Bill asked “Do you need me to call someone?”
“No! No…” Alice’s frame quivered as she felt all her hopes of a family, and long healthy life slipping away. Picturing herself massively obese, dying of lung cancer, and childless, the image her doctor had painted for her. Before she knew it she spilled the whole story to Bill.
Bill sat in the other courtesy chair and listened to her. When she finished, talking a cheek hollowing drag on the cigarette, he said “I don’t see why she said that, you’re an attractive woman.”
Alice let out a sharp sardonic laugh followed by a single cough. “Bullshit. I’m fat and I smoke to much. Who’d want to date someone like that?”
Bill stood, planning on relocking the cage. “That shouldn’t matter if you really love someone.”
Alice stood and embraced him. Unsure of what to do he remained motionless. “You’re a true gentleman” Alice said. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course.” Said Bill. She grabbed his head and kissed him. Her breasts pressed closer against Bill’s chest and he felt himself growing hard.
They wound up on an old cracked leather sofa that was kept in the back room. If there was no one in the store Employees could relax on it, watching TV, or reading a book, listening for the door buzzer. Alice on the bottom and she forced herself to grind her flabby body against Bill as he thrust into her.
Bill discovered that despite was Alice had been saying she wasn’t really obese. She was certainly overweight but the extra fat was stored mostly in her thighs and buttocks, while her breasts were large and prominent. Her belly was there and although it wasn’t the flat toned abs of a celebrity model it wasn’t massive either. There was enough fat stored there to create a fold at the waist but it wasn’t heavy or big enough to get in the way. There was a small amount of cellulite present and stretchmarks, especially on her belly and backside. Her body would certainly be sagging obviously in a couple more years at her current rate, and she wouldn’t be able to hide the sag and of her spread of her gut to much longer either.
Alice discovered that although Bill wasn’t overweight he wasn’t exactly the toned muscular men presented in bodywash ads. He had muscles, but they were in his biceps and thighs, the muscles of a hard worker. Bill wasn’t the most well endowed man she’d been with but it had been years since then. Bill wasn’t to rough trying to prolong the event. He paid attention to her breasts the most and when he came she followed moments later.
Bill was out of breath but Alice was gasping. She scrambled for the cigarette packet and light another. Bill, watching her thick naked body roll and sit up, and then watched her sizable breasts heave as she fought for breath started to get hard again. Alice was too focused on the cigarette to notice right away. When she did she gave it a playful grab and then kissed Bill again. He tasted the smoke on her lips. Alice finished her cigarette then used the bathroom while Bill cleaned up and copied her credit card information so she could pay for the 4 cartons she was going home with when the computers were restarted tomorrow. Next, while she dressed, he wrote a note to his boss saying a customer had come by shortly after closing desperate for a cigarette, having run out, so he’d given them a free pack, and he hoped the boss didn’t mind. Considering the boss was a voracious chainsmoker himself he knew the boss would understand. He also entered Alice’s number into his phone.
Alice took her cigarettes, two lighters, and new cupholder ashtray out to her car. Bill finished his post shift work and secured the building before leaving. About the time a showered Alice was settling into bed with a final cigarette, Bill, with a microwave dinner, from the comfort of his small basement apartment in a triplex a few blocks away from the Smoking Center sent Alice a text asking if she wanted dinner and drinks the following night.
INTRO: I have quite a few random sightings sitting around on my computer I can’t come up with clever names for. Most consist of “Mid 30s, smoking long white, deep inhales, held,” you get the idea. Bare bones. Usually typed out on my tablet or phone real quick during the day and expanded later. These are going to be a little messier, I’m not going to care so much about proper punctuation and spelling. This is one of them.
I was out for a walk, listening to an audiobook and enjoying the crisp fall weather (Yes that’s how old this is) when I saw her. About 5’6, late 20s, brown shoulder length hair, and a rather large butt. She wa
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