My new account wasn't suspended. It's just that I removed all of my stories.
Ella's Smoking, High Heels, General Glamour and Sluttiness
- Thread starter EllaB_17
- Start date
A little incident from March (I think).
---
[...]
I received a call from the guy today. As you may remember, he works 5 minutes from here. And our last meeting was a disappointment, to say the least.
"Do you want to meet? I will pick you up."
"What for?"
"I want to talk with you."
"Can't we just talk on the phone?"
I am not a vindicative person. It's just that today I am finally completely free, and I wanted to stay at home relaxing.
He insisted, so I said ok. Part of the reason is the weather: beautiful blue sky, but cold and windy. Another reason is my chronic inability to say no to people. I have to say here that I was not in the mood for sex-related activities today.
---
For whatever unconscious or not-so-unconscious reasons, I decided to wear high heels. I am sometimes a bit teasy, I know, but I am certainly not an evil witch. I also don't like pride. In my opinion, of the countless varities and nuances of what we call pride, none of them is what I would consider a value, in an ethical sense. So, if I occasionally show something resembling pride, it's not something I'm proud of. No pun intended.
But in a sexual context a lot of things change - we are all made of many "parts" that combined together form what appears as our personality to others, and give us the feeling of self-identity.
It's not that I'm this, or I'm that. I am all of these parts. And they are all part of me.
---
Anyway, I didn't wear one of those countless pairs of extremely high heels that I have, those with ridiculously high platforms, with heels of 7 inch heights or above. I wouldn't dare to go out in those here. Abroad, yes, I did it all the time, and I felt so good. Still, I may find my courage soon, since I met my new friend, the smoking woman.
Instead, I wore a pair of beautiful black patent pointed-toe shoes, with a very thin high heel. No platform. Only moderately high to me, but very high for other women, I guess. Long tight jeans, with big holes in them. And beneath them, very thin nylon pantyhose.
My nylon-covered skin was visible both through the holes of my jeans, and also on the top part of my high heel wearing feet.
I wore a coat that is similar to the one my sexy smoking friend wore two days ago: cream-white with fur around my neck and on the sleeves. But my fur is brown, not white like hers. It's short enough not to conceal my ass. It's a little slutty-looking, but nothing too excessive.
Under the coat I wore a soft wool sweater, which, together with my push-up bra, made my boobs look much bigger.
In this context, let me say something funny: I record my dreams every morning, using a little audio recorder. I've been doing this for many years. Among the dreams I had last night, there was one where a member of this Subreddit said to me: "I never saw you before, I hope your boobs are not too small."
I had no time for elaborate makeup, so I just added some more eye liner (I wore it already as I had to go to the supermarket in the morning), mascara, and very light brown lipstick.
Loose hair, and glasses. My glasses are of the big kind, with a very thin rose-gold frame. I like how they look on me. I wore glasses since I was little, and this is one of the most beautiful pairs I ever bought.
For some reason I decided to wear my engagement ring***. I used to wear it every single day for years after we broke up, but eventually stopped wearing it. It's so undescribably beautiful: made of white gold, with a slightly curved line of seven diamonds on the top part.
[*** My engagement ring is from my last boyfriend (not this guy of course), who left me a few years ago. We were 10 years together. We were supposed to get married. I had even chosen the name for my first daughter.]
I also changed my bag. I used a very chic, black patent leather one. Shiny, wet-looking.
---
I saw his car coming from the window of my room. He watched me walking down the outside stairs, probably looking very tall, in my high heels and long legs. 15 cm taller or so. Waving a bit in the wind, maybe. I sat on the passenger seat.
"Did you miss me?" He asked.
"No, not really." I don't want to be mean, but I don't want to lie either. I didn't miss him. "Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"For me it's the same, you choose."
I may have looked bored/impatient. The only thing I wanted to do as soon as I entered his car was what I immediately did: opened my bag, took my precious pack of Misty 120s, pulled one out, and put it between my lips. No smiling, no talking.
For some reason, I didn't want to smoke my Red 100s. I had to have a Misty!
Smoking fetishist or no, he immediately noticed the difference, and looked at me from the side, me looking outside the windshield, not really giving him a shit. My ultra-long, ultra-slutty cigarette dangling from my lips, digging in my sexy black patent bag, looking for my lighter.
"What's that cigarette? I never saw you smoking it before."
I didn't reply immediately. My expression serious and disinterested. I took my lighter and lighted my Misty. I sucked on it, hollowing my cheeks. Removed it, checked if it was propetly lit by looking at it between my fingers, red nails, put it back to my light brown lips and took two or three more drags, inhaled, and exhaled.
Finally I looked at him.
"I got them from a friend. Can I smoke inside your car, or will you send me out in the wind?" Impatient. Not fair to him. My lack of self control surprised me, but sometimes it feels good to be a little bit mean.
"No, it's ok." He said.
---
A couple of minutes by car from where I live there's a series of buildings, siding the main road. There are one or two fast food restaurants, a couple of cafes and bars, and a gas pump. Opposite these buildings, there's the high highway (highway on the bridge, I don't know how to say it in English). And railway tracks. Beyond them, there's the area of abandoned warehouses.
He parked next to the sidewalk, and we walked towards one of the cafes, 20 or so meters from the road. We walked side by side.
In my black high heels I was almost as tall as him. And he's above 180 cm.
He was to my left. He held my arm. I didn't really want that, but I let him. My Misty in my other hand (the right one), more than half of it left. Loud click-clock of my thin heels. Wind or no wind. He wanted to wait for me to finish smoking, but I told him to go ahead and wait for me inside.
I finished my Misty. There were ashtrays on both sides of the entrance. But I just threw the butt onto the gound, and crushed it under my heels. It gave me a powerful rush.
I walked inside. There weren't many people.
"What do you want?" He asked me. I didn't look at him, I looked at the man working there. He was good looking. At least for me. Much older than me. I don't like young guys. I don't even like guys my age. He looked me in the eyes, and I did the same.
Maybe even a subtle smile (you know where to find me).
"A sparkling water."
"You don't want coffee?"
"No" I said. "I already had two or three today."
It's not that I really like the taste of coffee. But caffeine helps me focus a little bit. I translate, read, and study a lot, so I need concentration. And I never put sugar in it. When I was younger I was so terrified that one day my ass may become bigger, like it happens to so many women. But it never happened to me, and I'm so happy for that.
---
[...]
---
[...]
I received a call from the guy today. As you may remember, he works 5 minutes from here. And our last meeting was a disappointment, to say the least.
"Do you want to meet? I will pick you up."
"What for?"
"I want to talk with you."
"Can't we just talk on the phone?"
I am not a vindicative person. It's just that today I am finally completely free, and I wanted to stay at home relaxing.
He insisted, so I said ok. Part of the reason is the weather: beautiful blue sky, but cold and windy. Another reason is my chronic inability to say no to people. I have to say here that I was not in the mood for sex-related activities today.
---
For whatever unconscious or not-so-unconscious reasons, I decided to wear high heels. I am sometimes a bit teasy, I know, but I am certainly not an evil witch. I also don't like pride. In my opinion, of the countless varities and nuances of what we call pride, none of them is what I would consider a value, in an ethical sense. So, if I occasionally show something resembling pride, it's not something I'm proud of. No pun intended.
But in a sexual context a lot of things change - we are all made of many "parts" that combined together form what appears as our personality to others, and give us the feeling of self-identity.
It's not that I'm this, or I'm that. I am all of these parts. And they are all part of me.
---
Anyway, I didn't wear one of those countless pairs of extremely high heels that I have, those with ridiculously high platforms, with heels of 7 inch heights or above. I wouldn't dare to go out in those here. Abroad, yes, I did it all the time, and I felt so good. Still, I may find my courage soon, since I met my new friend, the smoking woman.
Instead, I wore a pair of beautiful black patent pointed-toe shoes, with a very thin high heel. No platform. Only moderately high to me, but very high for other women, I guess. Long tight jeans, with big holes in them. And beneath them, very thin nylon pantyhose.
My nylon-covered skin was visible both through the holes of my jeans, and also on the top part of my high heel wearing feet.
I wore a coat that is similar to the one my sexy smoking friend wore two days ago: cream-white with fur around my neck and on the sleeves. But my fur is brown, not white like hers. It's short enough not to conceal my ass. It's a little slutty-looking, but nothing too excessive.
Under the coat I wore a soft wool sweater, which, together with my push-up bra, made my boobs look much bigger.
In this context, let me say something funny: I record my dreams every morning, using a little audio recorder. I've been doing this for many years. Among the dreams I had last night, there was one where a member of this Subreddit said to me: "I never saw you before, I hope your boobs are not too small."
I had no time for elaborate makeup, so I just added some more eye liner (I wore it already as I had to go to the supermarket in the morning), mascara, and very light brown lipstick.
Loose hair, and glasses. My glasses are of the big kind, with a very thin rose-gold frame. I like how they look on me. I wore glasses since I was little, and this is one of the most beautiful pairs I ever bought.
For some reason I decided to wear my engagement ring***. I used to wear it every single day for years after we broke up, but eventually stopped wearing it. It's so undescribably beautiful: made of white gold, with a slightly curved line of seven diamonds on the top part.
[*** My engagement ring is from my last boyfriend (not this guy of course), who left me a few years ago. We were 10 years together. We were supposed to get married. I had even chosen the name for my first daughter.]
I also changed my bag. I used a very chic, black patent leather one. Shiny, wet-looking.
---
I saw his car coming from the window of my room. He watched me walking down the outside stairs, probably looking very tall, in my high heels and long legs. 15 cm taller or so. Waving a bit in the wind, maybe. I sat on the passenger seat.
"Did you miss me?" He asked.
"No, not really." I don't want to be mean, but I don't want to lie either. I didn't miss him. "Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"For me it's the same, you choose."
I may have looked bored/impatient. The only thing I wanted to do as soon as I entered his car was what I immediately did: opened my bag, took my precious pack of Misty 120s, pulled one out, and put it between my lips. No smiling, no talking.
For some reason, I didn't want to smoke my Red 100s. I had to have a Misty!
Smoking fetishist or no, he immediately noticed the difference, and looked at me from the side, me looking outside the windshield, not really giving him a shit. My ultra-long, ultra-slutty cigarette dangling from my lips, digging in my sexy black patent bag, looking for my lighter.
"What's that cigarette? I never saw you smoking it before."
I didn't reply immediately. My expression serious and disinterested. I took my lighter and lighted my Misty. I sucked on it, hollowing my cheeks. Removed it, checked if it was propetly lit by looking at it between my fingers, red nails, put it back to my light brown lips and took two or three more drags, inhaled, and exhaled.
Finally I looked at him.
"I got them from a friend. Can I smoke inside your car, or will you send me out in the wind?" Impatient. Not fair to him. My lack of self control surprised me, but sometimes it feels good to be a little bit mean.
"No, it's ok." He said.
---
A couple of minutes by car from where I live there's a series of buildings, siding the main road. There are one or two fast food restaurants, a couple of cafes and bars, and a gas pump. Opposite these buildings, there's the high highway (highway on the bridge, I don't know how to say it in English). And railway tracks. Beyond them, there's the area of abandoned warehouses.
He parked next to the sidewalk, and we walked towards one of the cafes, 20 or so meters from the road. We walked side by side.
In my black high heels I was almost as tall as him. And he's above 180 cm.
He was to my left. He held my arm. I didn't really want that, but I let him. My Misty in my other hand (the right one), more than half of it left. Loud click-clock of my thin heels. Wind or no wind. He wanted to wait for me to finish smoking, but I told him to go ahead and wait for me inside.
I finished my Misty. There were ashtrays on both sides of the entrance. But I just threw the butt onto the gound, and crushed it under my heels. It gave me a powerful rush.
I walked inside. There weren't many people.
"What do you want?" He asked me. I didn't look at him, I looked at the man working there. He was good looking. At least for me. Much older than me. I don't like young guys. I don't even like guys my age. He looked me in the eyes, and I did the same.
Maybe even a subtle smile (you know where to find me).
"A sparkling water."
"You don't want coffee?"
"No" I said. "I already had two or three today."
It's not that I really like the taste of coffee. But caffeine helps me focus a little bit. I translate, read, and study a lot, so I need concentration. And I never put sugar in it. When I was younger I was so terrified that one day my ass may become bigger, like it happens to so many women. But it never happened to me, and I'm so happy for that.
---
[...]
Last edited:
[...]
After talking a bit, we left and walked back to the car.
Instead of turning left and taking me back (and him going back to work), he turned right, and drove to the same area of empty streets, overgrown sidewalks, and abandoned warehouses, where I had engaged in some smokey activities with him some time ago.
"Where are we going?"
He didn't answer my question. Instead, he begun apologizing for what happened last time.
"It really doesn't matter" I said. "Plus, it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything, you don't have to explain yourself to me."
"So what are we?"
What was I supposed to say?
"Friends." Typical me.
He stopped the car at the same spot as last time. A sidewalk to our left, and a rusted fence. Beyond it, grass, bushes, a few trees, and some abandoned buildings behind them. Up ahead, the street, more empty buildings, more fences etc.
Me, always looking straight ahead.
Once again, I semi-automatically took my pack of Misty out of my bag, and pulled one 120 cigarette out.
He then asked me: "So what do you think?"
Confused, I finally turned my face to him, while at the same time holding my pack of cigarettes in my left hand, and my gorgeous unlit all-white Misty between the index and middle fingers of my right hand - at the end of the filter, in its whole lenght and beauty. I gave him an annoyed look, and asked: "What?!"
"You really didn't miss me?" Or something like that. My mind was elsewhere (what a surprise).
"No, I didn't." I said, feeling more and more impatient.
Pack of Misty in my left hand, I put my long cigarette between my light brown lips. I lighted it. I loved the feeling. He said something, but I honestly don't rememeber what. Holding the cigarette in my right hand, practically glued to my face, smoke drifting inside the car, I looked in the mirror.
While he was talking and explaining something, I was busy with more important matters: I used my fingertip to wipe a tiny lipstick smear I noticed on the side of my mouth. I love my nails, I thought.
---
I heard him doing something. I closed the mirror and turned to him.
I looked down, and saw him unbuckling his belt.
"Hey, what are you doing?!!" I almost shouted.
Did he really think that while dealing with me everything can be solved by showing me a hard dick?
Of course, I can't blame him. I can seem a little bit slutty, sometimes. But I was in no mood.
Instead of getting turned on, I gave him a glance that was a mixture between slight shock and contempt.
His answer was an idiotic smile.
"Stop, please" I said. "You took me here for this?"
Of course he did, how could I not know. Still, I didn't feel like wasting my time, and my mood was getting worse. I opened the car door and walked out.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?"
I (almost) slammed the door. He watched me walking up and down in my thin heels, in front of the parked car.
I tried to think, but the wind was annoying me. I don't like wind.
Was I supposed to stop being such a bitch and just go back inside the car, get his hot load pumped down my throat, and be done with it? It wouldn't have taken a long time anyway.
Or was I supposed to show some restraint and, for one time, refuse? I can't be that cheap!
I kept sucking on my stunning Misty, with a beautiful light brown lipstick stain by this time. So beautiful. It was my Misty that made the decision for me. Let's go back inside the car.
---
I opened the car door and just directly walked on all four on the passenger seat. I violently re-unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, my starving mouth already there, hungry, ready, wide open. Misty in my right hand, I begun sucking him fast, really fast. I took a couple of drags from my fabulous, ultra-slutty cigarette. Sucked more. Deepthroats.
I didn't really have free hands, so I tried rubbing my cunt on whatever surface was beneath me, without much success. I stopped, nervously put my cigarette between my lips, and while taking compulsive drags and trying to exhale through my nose, slid my hand inside my jeans, my pantyhose, and my black lace thong, and (finally!) reached my wet cunt and put my pretty fingers inside it. I did this for a few seconds.
Then I took out my hand, and used my pussy-tasting wet fingers to remove my cigarette from my mouth, but not before taking a few more lustful drags. I looked at my wet fingers, my engagement ring with diamonds, and my lipstick-stained cigarette.
I took another drag from my Misty and, without inhaling the smoke, put his hard dick back where it belonged. I kept sucking.
---
I didn't know he was about to cum so incredibly fast. He used his big, strong, athletic hand, and pressed my head down so hard that I couldn't breathe!
I was susprised, I didn't expect anything like this.
While I still had smoke in my mouth, he pumped his warm cum down my throat, and while cumming he still kept my head pressed down, hard. I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't move, I had to cough, I hit him with my open palm, and he released me. In this confusion I dropped my Misty, I found the handle and opened the door, stepped out but I was very shaky on my heels, feeling sick.
I coughed more and spit out his cum, or my saliva, or whatever it was. I took some time to breathe, and wiped my mouth. I came back inside and, in my anger, I tried to hit him, but he easily managed to grab my wrist, which looked pitifully thin and small in his hand.
"What the hell?!"
"I'm sorry."
"You wanna choke me?!"
"No, I'm sorry, I got carried away."
"You got carried away? How can you do something like that to me?"
"I am so sorry. Are you ok?"
"I couldn't breathe! What the X" (I never use curse words, or swear words, so you can imagine). "Just take me back."
"Yes, yes, I will." He almost laughed.
I kept coughing more in the car, and my throat burns. it's a very uncomfortable sensation when cum is swallowed in a wrong way, but I dont think I swallowed any or almost any today.
---
Later I called my smoking friend, the woman. We have talked on the phone several times since we met this last Sunday. She called me, and I called her too. Everything here is near, and she doesn't have to work, so we can basically meet any time, deciding at the last moment.
I told her what happened today. She's glad I'm ok. But she agrees with me that I have to control myself sometimes, and learn to refuse.
I don't want to go out again today. But I will see her in the next few days. We can meet often. I told her I can't wait to meet and watch her smoke.
---
This is the price I payed today for dressing like a slut, acting like a slut, and smoking like a slut.
I had asked for it. And my Misty 120s certainly didn't help.
After talking a bit, we left and walked back to the car.
Instead of turning left and taking me back (and him going back to work), he turned right, and drove to the same area of empty streets, overgrown sidewalks, and abandoned warehouses, where I had engaged in some smokey activities with him some time ago.
"Where are we going?"
He didn't answer my question. Instead, he begun apologizing for what happened last time.
"It really doesn't matter" I said. "Plus, it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything, you don't have to explain yourself to me."
"So what are we?"
What was I supposed to say?
"Friends." Typical me.
He stopped the car at the same spot as last time. A sidewalk to our left, and a rusted fence. Beyond it, grass, bushes, a few trees, and some abandoned buildings behind them. Up ahead, the street, more empty buildings, more fences etc.
Me, always looking straight ahead.
Once again, I semi-automatically took my pack of Misty out of my bag, and pulled one 120 cigarette out.
He then asked me: "So what do you think?"
Confused, I finally turned my face to him, while at the same time holding my pack of cigarettes in my left hand, and my gorgeous unlit all-white Misty between the index and middle fingers of my right hand - at the end of the filter, in its whole lenght and beauty. I gave him an annoyed look, and asked: "What?!"
"You really didn't miss me?" Or something like that. My mind was elsewhere (what a surprise).
"No, I didn't." I said, feeling more and more impatient.
Pack of Misty in my left hand, I put my long cigarette between my light brown lips. I lighted it. I loved the feeling. He said something, but I honestly don't rememeber what. Holding the cigarette in my right hand, practically glued to my face, smoke drifting inside the car, I looked in the mirror.
While he was talking and explaining something, I was busy with more important matters: I used my fingertip to wipe a tiny lipstick smear I noticed on the side of my mouth. I love my nails, I thought.
---
I heard him doing something. I closed the mirror and turned to him.
I looked down, and saw him unbuckling his belt.
"Hey, what are you doing?!!" I almost shouted.
Did he really think that while dealing with me everything can be solved by showing me a hard dick?
Of course, I can't blame him. I can seem a little bit slutty, sometimes. But I was in no mood.
Instead of getting turned on, I gave him a glance that was a mixture between slight shock and contempt.
His answer was an idiotic smile.
"Stop, please" I said. "You took me here for this?"
Of course he did, how could I not know. Still, I didn't feel like wasting my time, and my mood was getting worse. I opened the car door and walked out.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?"
I (almost) slammed the door. He watched me walking up and down in my thin heels, in front of the parked car.
I tried to think, but the wind was annoying me. I don't like wind.
Was I supposed to stop being such a bitch and just go back inside the car, get his hot load pumped down my throat, and be done with it? It wouldn't have taken a long time anyway.
Or was I supposed to show some restraint and, for one time, refuse? I can't be that cheap!
I kept sucking on my stunning Misty, with a beautiful light brown lipstick stain by this time. So beautiful. It was my Misty that made the decision for me. Let's go back inside the car.
---
I opened the car door and just directly walked on all four on the passenger seat. I violently re-unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, my starving mouth already there, hungry, ready, wide open. Misty in my right hand, I begun sucking him fast, really fast. I took a couple of drags from my fabulous, ultra-slutty cigarette. Sucked more. Deepthroats.
I didn't really have free hands, so I tried rubbing my cunt on whatever surface was beneath me, without much success. I stopped, nervously put my cigarette between my lips, and while taking compulsive drags and trying to exhale through my nose, slid my hand inside my jeans, my pantyhose, and my black lace thong, and (finally!) reached my wet cunt and put my pretty fingers inside it. I did this for a few seconds.
Then I took out my hand, and used my pussy-tasting wet fingers to remove my cigarette from my mouth, but not before taking a few more lustful drags. I looked at my wet fingers, my engagement ring with diamonds, and my lipstick-stained cigarette.
I took another drag from my Misty and, without inhaling the smoke, put his hard dick back where it belonged. I kept sucking.
---
I didn't know he was about to cum so incredibly fast. He used his big, strong, athletic hand, and pressed my head down so hard that I couldn't breathe!
I was susprised, I didn't expect anything like this.
While I still had smoke in my mouth, he pumped his warm cum down my throat, and while cumming he still kept my head pressed down, hard. I couldn't breathe. And I couldn't move, I had to cough, I hit him with my open palm, and he released me. In this confusion I dropped my Misty, I found the handle and opened the door, stepped out but I was very shaky on my heels, feeling sick.
I coughed more and spit out his cum, or my saliva, or whatever it was. I took some time to breathe, and wiped my mouth. I came back inside and, in my anger, I tried to hit him, but he easily managed to grab my wrist, which looked pitifully thin and small in his hand.
"What the hell?!"
"I'm sorry."
"You wanna choke me?!"
"No, I'm sorry, I got carried away."
"You got carried away? How can you do something like that to me?"
"I am so sorry. Are you ok?"
"I couldn't breathe! What the X" (I never use curse words, or swear words, so you can imagine). "Just take me back."
"Yes, yes, I will." He almost laughed.
I kept coughing more in the car, and my throat burns. it's a very uncomfortable sensation when cum is swallowed in a wrong way, but I dont think I swallowed any or almost any today.
---
Later I called my smoking friend, the woman. We have talked on the phone several times since we met this last Sunday. She called me, and I called her too. Everything here is near, and she doesn't have to work, so we can basically meet any time, deciding at the last moment.
I told her what happened today. She's glad I'm ok. But she agrees with me that I have to control myself sometimes, and learn to refuse.
I don't want to go out again today. But I will see her in the next few days. We can meet often. I told her I can't wait to meet and watch her smoke.
---
This is the price I payed today for dressing like a slut, acting like a slut, and smoking like a slut.
I had asked for it. And my Misty 120s certainly didn't help.
Stopokochac
Literotica Guru
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- Jun 27, 2018
- Posts
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Oh, when I first clicked it, I got a "suspended" message. Doesn't matter, as it appears your primary account is back to normal.
The old account is gone for good, the username no longer even exists.
Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
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- Jun 7, 2022
- Posts
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Yum. Maybe I’ll get to read it sometime.
Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
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Thank you for sharing!!
Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
- Joined
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Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2022
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Wild. Strangely sexy but reluctantly so. Must be wild to be a sexy smoking woman! Cheers
I can post it here.Yum. Maybe I’ll get to read it sometime.
You're welcome.
I did this today and wrote these few sentences a couple of hours ago.
---
I went to the balcony to smoke a cigarette just now. It's broad daylight here.
I felt hot, so I only wore flipflops, shorts, and bra.
Opposite the balcony there are other apartments.
Today I had tried a new mascara with gold glitter in it, so my eyelashes were glinting.
I lit a slim cigarette.
Smoking on the balcony I found my courage and removed my bra.
I used my hair to cover my tits.
My hair is long, blondish/light brown.
I leaned on the railing. I put my slim cigarette to my lips and while taking a long drag, did an almost imperceptible series of in-and-out sucking movements. Very slow.
During the "in" phase, almost the whole filter was inside my mouth.
The sunrays were hitting my exhales in such a way that the smoke was very visible and thick. It looked so beautiful.
I looked left and right, eyelashes glittering with gold in the sun.
I don't think anyone saw me.
And even if someone was watching this little scene, no one could have possibly seen this detail.
Still, it was enough to make me a little bit wet.
---
I have to cook some dinner now...
---
I went to the balcony to smoke a cigarette just now. It's broad daylight here.
I felt hot, so I only wore flipflops, shorts, and bra.
Opposite the balcony there are other apartments.
Today I had tried a new mascara with gold glitter in it, so my eyelashes were glinting.
I lit a slim cigarette.
Smoking on the balcony I found my courage and removed my bra.
I used my hair to cover my tits.
My hair is long, blondish/light brown.
I leaned on the railing. I put my slim cigarette to my lips and while taking a long drag, did an almost imperceptible series of in-and-out sucking movements. Very slow.
During the "in" phase, almost the whole filter was inside my mouth.
The sunrays were hitting my exhales in such a way that the smoke was very visible and thick. It looked so beautiful.
I looked left and right, eyelashes glittering with gold in the sun.
I don't think anyone saw me.
And even if someone was watching this little scene, no one could have possibly seen this detail.
Still, it was enough to make me a little bit wet.
---
I have to cook some dinner now...
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Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
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- Jun 7, 2022
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I love to watch my wife exhale in certain perfect lighting from the sun. So much continues to come out some lightly pouring from her nostrils. I also like to watch her sometimes in the morning smoking when she doesn’t know and rub my cock. I wait for her in bed and love the taboo strong smell of the tobacco on her breath as we make love. Cheers. And yes post the other!!
I love what you're describing, and under those conditions I can keep talking and long after exhaling there's still smoke coming out of my mouth, it's so sexy.
This is hot.
I will do it now. And then I go to sleep.
This is the one (discarded cigarette).
---
My morning
Recently my dad said yet another thing meant as an insult to me.
"The problem, Ella, is that you fear no one!"
I took it as a compliment.
Be it fact or illusion, in light of some recent developments, I felt more than a bit uneasy to see him today.
The little I wrote about my childhood and family was written in a diluted form, and in a downplayed tone.
In regard to family relationships, I think the worst one can experience is growing up and living a life without being able to trust either of your own parents.
---
On the way to the supermarket to buy some food for my dad, my sister bombed me with messages bearing yet more "surprises".
I took the bus earlier than usual, and it was crowded.
There was a very young mommy with a stroller on the bus. A little soft, with a pretty face. She had long dark blond hair, a bit wavy. Her smile and teeth were exceptionally charming and sweet. She had a beautiful nose, and light blue eyes. She wore heavy eyeliner and fake eyelashes. She was talking to a woman about 50 years old.
The woman was speaking in the standard language, but with an accent from very far away from here.
The young girl, on the other hand, was using the heaviest form of the local dialect.
She looked very young. Her baby, a littl girl, seemed to be a few months old.
Then, when the young mommy lifted her baby, I saw under her forearm a tattoo with a name and a date. It was 2019. So the girl already had a six years old son.
She kept chatting with the older woman. She seemed nice and friendly and genuine. Even her baby girl was happy and calm.
This is a quite common sight here. I live in the southern "suburbs" of the little city at present. The whole southern half of this little city is more or less crappy. Some areas are not good, some are bad. A few are very bad.
But for some reason, girls from this "low" area, composed of blue collar workers, as well as addicts and lots of crazy people, mostly coming from low-income and/or disfunctional families, tend to be even prettier than the ones from better off environments.
They are not ultra "high class", whatever that means, but they are not trashy. They have good taste in clothes and makeup, and they are in general very nice, friendly and respectful.
Many of them smoke.
Our language has a casual way of speaking, and a polite/formal one. The newer generations, and many of the older people as well, are more and more giving up the polite one. I find it to be rude and disrespectful.
I always use the polite one whenever I talk to people much older than me, or strangers.
The young mom was using the polite speech too. It was a pleasant surprise.
---
My mom has this strange habit of occasionally showing up with lots of new clothes for me. Like if I was still 10 years old. Especially t-shirts and socks. I have an enormous amount of unused socks.
Today I only put on a bit of black eyeliner, and colorless lipgloss. No other makeup.
I was wearing light grey sweatpants and white sneakers.
I wore one of the new t-shirts my mom bought for me. White with light brown horizontal strips. The light brown strips are about one cm wide.
I looked like a child.
---
I got off the first bus.
Instead of walking to the second bus stop, I decided to go inside a particular shop selling cigarettes, which is, according to my knowledge, one of the most well stocked ones in the area. I knew it since the beginning, and I often bought 120s there as a teen.
They have a huge selection of tobacco products.
Yesterday I contacted a few EU-based sellers and they all said they can't ship Eve 120s to me, even thought I'm in the EU too, and parcels don't have to go through customs.
In this gloomy period, the hope of being able to enjoy all-white 120s every day, everywhere, without being afraid of running out of supply, was comforting.
I knew they no longer sell 120s here. But I still had a faint glimmer of hope that I might come across something.
I walked inside the shop. Lots of kinds of cigarettes and cigars. But no trace of my beloved 120s.
Standing there like a moron, I decided to buy a pack of slims. I chose Vogue.
---
[...]
---
My morning
Recently my dad said yet another thing meant as an insult to me.
"The problem, Ella, is that you fear no one!"
I took it as a compliment.
Be it fact or illusion, in light of some recent developments, I felt more than a bit uneasy to see him today.
The little I wrote about my childhood and family was written in a diluted form, and in a downplayed tone.
In regard to family relationships, I think the worst one can experience is growing up and living a life without being able to trust either of your own parents.
---
On the way to the supermarket to buy some food for my dad, my sister bombed me with messages bearing yet more "surprises".
I took the bus earlier than usual, and it was crowded.
There was a very young mommy with a stroller on the bus. A little soft, with a pretty face. She had long dark blond hair, a bit wavy. Her smile and teeth were exceptionally charming and sweet. She had a beautiful nose, and light blue eyes. She wore heavy eyeliner and fake eyelashes. She was talking to a woman about 50 years old.
The woman was speaking in the standard language, but with an accent from very far away from here.
The young girl, on the other hand, was using the heaviest form of the local dialect.
She looked very young. Her baby, a littl girl, seemed to be a few months old.
Then, when the young mommy lifted her baby, I saw under her forearm a tattoo with a name and a date. It was 2019. So the girl already had a six years old son.
She kept chatting with the older woman. She seemed nice and friendly and genuine. Even her baby girl was happy and calm.
This is a quite common sight here. I live in the southern "suburbs" of the little city at present. The whole southern half of this little city is more or less crappy. Some areas are not good, some are bad. A few are very bad.
But for some reason, girls from this "low" area, composed of blue collar workers, as well as addicts and lots of crazy people, mostly coming from low-income and/or disfunctional families, tend to be even prettier than the ones from better off environments.
They are not ultra "high class", whatever that means, but they are not trashy. They have good taste in clothes and makeup, and they are in general very nice, friendly and respectful.
Many of them smoke.
Our language has a casual way of speaking, and a polite/formal one. The newer generations, and many of the older people as well, are more and more giving up the polite one. I find it to be rude and disrespectful.
I always use the polite one whenever I talk to people much older than me, or strangers.
The young mom was using the polite speech too. It was a pleasant surprise.
---
My mom has this strange habit of occasionally showing up with lots of new clothes for me. Like if I was still 10 years old. Especially t-shirts and socks. I have an enormous amount of unused socks.
Today I only put on a bit of black eyeliner, and colorless lipgloss. No other makeup.
I was wearing light grey sweatpants and white sneakers.
I wore one of the new t-shirts my mom bought for me. White with light brown horizontal strips. The light brown strips are about one cm wide.
I looked like a child.
---
I got off the first bus.
Instead of walking to the second bus stop, I decided to go inside a particular shop selling cigarettes, which is, according to my knowledge, one of the most well stocked ones in the area. I knew it since the beginning, and I often bought 120s there as a teen.
They have a huge selection of tobacco products.
Yesterday I contacted a few EU-based sellers and they all said they can't ship Eve 120s to me, even thought I'm in the EU too, and parcels don't have to go through customs.
In this gloomy period, the hope of being able to enjoy all-white 120s every day, everywhere, without being afraid of running out of supply, was comforting.
I knew they no longer sell 120s here. But I still had a faint glimmer of hope that I might come across something.
I walked inside the shop. Lots of kinds of cigarettes and cigars. But no trace of my beloved 120s.
Standing there like a moron, I decided to buy a pack of slims. I chose Vogue.
---
[...]
I took the second bus, got down, and entered the gate of the compound where my dad is staying.
I was early, as usual.
There's a little roof above the entrance to one of the main buildings, where people, nurses or visitors, sit, chat, or smoke.
Next to one of the tall cylindrical ashtrays there was a woman smoking a slim cigarette. She seemed to be about forty-five, not really beautiful, but very slutty-looking. Since she was carrying a bag, I presumed she might have been an early visitor.
She wore heavy makeup, thick hoop earrings, and her brown hair was pulled up.
We greeted each other. I opened my bag, took out my new pack of Vogue, peeled off the plastic, removed the paper, and pulled out a slim cigarette. I put it between my lightly madeup lips, and lit it.
I took a peek or two at her light brown madeup lips sucking on her slutty slim.
The sight turned me on. She was smoking in a very attractive way.
I saw her once or twice tap the ashes into the ashray, fingers with long fake nails with dark red nail polish.
While I kept smoking my slim cigarette in my striped child-like t-shirt and long sweatpants, she stubbed her unfinished cigarette onto the sand inside the cylindrical ashtray, blew out a final line of smoke, smiled at me, and entered the building. I could smell her perfume.
---
What I did next is something that several SF people told me they fantasize about, and every time, before telling me about this particular "taste", or desire of theirs, they are always worried I may think it's too weird or creepy.
No, I tell them every time. I like it too, and I did it several times during my clubbing years, when I had pretty lipstick wearing smoking girl friends at my place.
---
I took a look around, and made sure no one was looking at me. There were only two other people to be seen, twenty or thirty meters away from me, walking in the garden.
I took my pack of paper tissues, and pulled one out. I quickly took the stubbed, lipstick-stained slim cigarette the woman had smoked, placed it on the paper tissue, and folded it gently, being careful to keep it loose enough - I didn't want to ruin the lipstick stain.
I finished smoking my cigarette, and stubbed the white thin butt of my Vogue inside the ashtray.
---
Inside the main building, I walked into the toilet, and locked the door.
I put my bag onto the floor, and placed the folded paper tissue on a little shelf in front of me.
I pulled down my grey sweatpants, and my tiny white lace thong, and sat on the bowl.
My long white legs were bare now. My pussy and little ass too.
My grey sweatpants and white thong were sitting on top of my white Adidas, around my ankles.
I unfolded the paper tissue, and took the thin cigarette butt, delicately, and held it between my thumb and index fingertips of my right hand.
My left hand slid down. Seeing the slim-smoking woman had made me wet.
Using my left hand I begun slowly touching myself, moving my middle fingertip up and down along the lenght of my horny little thing.
With my right hand I brought the woman's slim cigarette filter close to my face.
I took a closeup look at it. Slowly. Keeping it right in front of my glasses-wearing eyes. She had put her cigarette out when there was still about one third left to smoke. On the thin white filter, there was one main area where the brown stain was heaviest - that was were she took most of the drags off her cigarette. Further along the lenght of the filter, there were messier parts where the brown stain was lighter: she must have, at a certain point, put more of the filter's lenght inside her slutty mouth, and sucked on it.
The lipstick stain was shiny. My hand was moving faster.
I slowly moved the butt to my lips. I licked the filter. Gently. Her lipstick tasted delicious.
I slid my middle finder inside my wet cunt, and played with myself. At the same time, I kept licking the filter, the whole lenght of it now, and finally put it between my lips. I sucked on it. The taste of a smoked cigarette is always strong. Bitter. And so sexy.
But I absolutely loved the way this particular cigarette tasted, and, especially, the idea behind it! My knowledge of the original owner of this cigarette. My knowledge of those slutty brown lips, which, in their spare time, I can only imagine what other things they do.
After sucking some more of that sexy taste only smoked cigarettes have, I removed it from my lips. It had my saliva on it now, and a layer of trasparent lipgloss.
Holding the filter between my fingertips, I moved it down, and used it to play with my pantyless pussy. I inserted it inside just enough to see the woman's shiny brown lipstick stain entering my wet little cunt. I dipped it in some more, and then out. And up and down along my moist lenght. I sucked some more. And licked some more, gently, with the tip of my tongue.
I inserted it in once more, and played with it. Both my hands were busy down there.
Even though having that slutty woman's cigarette inside me was a very exciting activitiy, and a very powerful thought, I managed to stop doing it. I licked my taste off the butt, and placed it back on the paper tissue and folded it again. I put it inside my bag for later use.
I sucked clean my wet fingers.
I pulled my thong and pants up, and washed my hands in the sink.
Standing in front of the toilet mirror, I put a layer or two of lipgloss onto my lips, took my bag, and walked out.
---
My dad was not super today. But I managed to keep him more or less calm, and I learned some more things about my childhood.
I was early, as usual.
There's a little roof above the entrance to one of the main buildings, where people, nurses or visitors, sit, chat, or smoke.
Next to one of the tall cylindrical ashtrays there was a woman smoking a slim cigarette. She seemed to be about forty-five, not really beautiful, but very slutty-looking. Since she was carrying a bag, I presumed she might have been an early visitor.
She wore heavy makeup, thick hoop earrings, and her brown hair was pulled up.
We greeted each other. I opened my bag, took out my new pack of Vogue, peeled off the plastic, removed the paper, and pulled out a slim cigarette. I put it between my lightly madeup lips, and lit it.
I took a peek or two at her light brown madeup lips sucking on her slutty slim.
The sight turned me on. She was smoking in a very attractive way.
I saw her once or twice tap the ashes into the ashray, fingers with long fake nails with dark red nail polish.
While I kept smoking my slim cigarette in my striped child-like t-shirt and long sweatpants, she stubbed her unfinished cigarette onto the sand inside the cylindrical ashtray, blew out a final line of smoke, smiled at me, and entered the building. I could smell her perfume.
---
What I did next is something that several SF people told me they fantasize about, and every time, before telling me about this particular "taste", or desire of theirs, they are always worried I may think it's too weird or creepy.
No, I tell them every time. I like it too, and I did it several times during my clubbing years, when I had pretty lipstick wearing smoking girl friends at my place.
---
I took a look around, and made sure no one was looking at me. There were only two other people to be seen, twenty or thirty meters away from me, walking in the garden.
I took my pack of paper tissues, and pulled one out. I quickly took the stubbed, lipstick-stained slim cigarette the woman had smoked, placed it on the paper tissue, and folded it gently, being careful to keep it loose enough - I didn't want to ruin the lipstick stain.
I finished smoking my cigarette, and stubbed the white thin butt of my Vogue inside the ashtray.
---
Inside the main building, I walked into the toilet, and locked the door.
I put my bag onto the floor, and placed the folded paper tissue on a little shelf in front of me.
I pulled down my grey sweatpants, and my tiny white lace thong, and sat on the bowl.
My long white legs were bare now. My pussy and little ass too.
My grey sweatpants and white thong were sitting on top of my white Adidas, around my ankles.
I unfolded the paper tissue, and took the thin cigarette butt, delicately, and held it between my thumb and index fingertips of my right hand.
My left hand slid down. Seeing the slim-smoking woman had made me wet.
Using my left hand I begun slowly touching myself, moving my middle fingertip up and down along the lenght of my horny little thing.
With my right hand I brought the woman's slim cigarette filter close to my face.
I took a closeup look at it. Slowly. Keeping it right in front of my glasses-wearing eyes. She had put her cigarette out when there was still about one third left to smoke. On the thin white filter, there was one main area where the brown stain was heaviest - that was were she took most of the drags off her cigarette. Further along the lenght of the filter, there were messier parts where the brown stain was lighter: she must have, at a certain point, put more of the filter's lenght inside her slutty mouth, and sucked on it.
The lipstick stain was shiny. My hand was moving faster.
I slowly moved the butt to my lips. I licked the filter. Gently. Her lipstick tasted delicious.
I slid my middle finder inside my wet cunt, and played with myself. At the same time, I kept licking the filter, the whole lenght of it now, and finally put it between my lips. I sucked on it. The taste of a smoked cigarette is always strong. Bitter. And so sexy.
But I absolutely loved the way this particular cigarette tasted, and, especially, the idea behind it! My knowledge of the original owner of this cigarette. My knowledge of those slutty brown lips, which, in their spare time, I can only imagine what other things they do.
After sucking some more of that sexy taste only smoked cigarettes have, I removed it from my lips. It had my saliva on it now, and a layer of trasparent lipgloss.
Holding the filter between my fingertips, I moved it down, and used it to play with my pantyless pussy. I inserted it inside just enough to see the woman's shiny brown lipstick stain entering my wet little cunt. I dipped it in some more, and then out. And up and down along my moist lenght. I sucked some more. And licked some more, gently, with the tip of my tongue.
I inserted it in once more, and played with it. Both my hands were busy down there.
Even though having that slutty woman's cigarette inside me was a very exciting activitiy, and a very powerful thought, I managed to stop doing it. I licked my taste off the butt, and placed it back on the paper tissue and folded it again. I put it inside my bag for later use.
I sucked clean my wet fingers.
I pulled my thong and pants up, and washed my hands in the sink.
Standing in front of the toilet mirror, I put a layer or two of lipgloss onto my lips, took my bag, and walked out.
---
My dad was not super today. But I managed to keep him more or less calm, and I learned some more things about my childhood.
Shaglus_Ziegler
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Would love to see you smoking in the late day sun as your exhales deep from your mouth and nose. It’s wildly sexy and erotic. I’m sure I’d be tempted to rub my cock. Thank you for adding your piece. I’ll read it now. Hope your sleep was dreamy. Cheers
Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
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Yum. I loved it. Nine times out of ten I would choose a slutty smoker over a “perfect” society approved woman. I’ve done it many times. I have also, when much younger, found a lipstick stained cigarette butt and smoked the rest myself. 
the act itself usually producing a modest to full erection. I have masturbated many times while enjoying a cigarette, something so sultry about it. I have watched a few videos of women taking pussy drags with a cigarette implanted between their lower lips and have fantasized about going down on them during and after the event. TMI? Who knows but the effect is primal!! Lol. Loved your tale. Very arousing! Thank you!!
the act itself usually producing a modest to full erection. I have masturbated many times while enjoying a cigarette, something so sultry about it. I have watched a few videos of women taking pussy drags with a cigarette implanted between their lower lips and have fantasized about going down on them during and after the event. TMI? Who knows but the effect is primal!! Lol. Loved your tale. Very arousing! Thank you!! I have a female friend here, she's older than me, she's nice and extremely slutty looking but also pretty. She's also the only woman I know here with fake boobs. She smokes slims, and we have some little adventures together from time to time. I wrote several stories about her. I could post some.Yum. I loved it. Nine times out of ten I would choose a slutty smoker over a “perfect” society approved woman. I’ve done it many times. I have also, when much younger, found a lipstick stained cigarette butt and smoked the rest myself.
In one, we both lit a cigarette, took a drag or two, and switched them. We applied both pussies' wetness on each other's filters, and smoked them. She had my lipstick, my saliva, and my sluthole's taste on the filter, and me hers.
I also want to try a little experiment soon. Before I started writing five months ago, I didn't think too much about the taste/smell of cigarettes on other people. But now, after having shared ideas with other people, I find it to be really hot. So, next time I see her, I will be a couple of hours without smoking, so I can get rid of the taste of cigarettes I have in my mouth, the smell I have in my hair etc (at least part of it), and then meet her and kiss her cigarette tasting mouth and smell her cigarette smelling hair.
I'm glad you enjoyed the story.
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Shaglus_Ziegler
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Yes, the raunchy aroma drives me crazy. It’s in the last story I wrote. https://www.literotica.com/s/dragon-lady-3
I love what you wrote here. Sexy as fuck. To be a fly on the wall or better yet a man in the room while you two tease and play. keep enjoying all of it. We’re only here a little while. 
I love what you wrote here. Sexy as fuck. To be a fly on the wall or better yet a man in the room while you two tease and play.
keep enjoying all of it. We’re only here a little while.
Shaglus_Ziegler
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And the word sluthole really turned me on.
I read it.Yes, the raunchy aroma drives me crazy. It’s in the last story I wrote. https://www.literotica.com/s/dragon-lady-3
I love what you wrote here. Sexy as fuck. To be a fly on the wall or better yet a man in the room while you two tease and play.
Not in a room. In the car. We do those things inside her car (I don't drive).
Yes, since I write I need a variety of synonyms. I have a special friend who coined lots of words in my honor, for example, leaving the x-hole and x-juices words aside, fuckwhore, fuckslut etc. What a sweet guy.And the word sluthole really turned me on.
Shaglus_Ziegler
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Oh nice. The story is kinda hollow but kinda sexy. I guess it’s the backseat for me lol. Ever since I can remember I loved the smell of cigarettes on a woman. Enjoy your day.
Shaglus_Ziegler
Virgin
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It is challenging not being redundant. Sluthole gets the blood moving.
Thanks. You too.
