Chapter 1

Tracy liked to smoke. And she liked to fuck. And she liked to smoke and fuck. And fuck and smoke. In fact, she loved smoking and fucking so much that fucking without smoking just wasn’t quite the same. Though smoking without fucking was still pretty fucking good.

The only problem was, Tracy’s boyfriend Charlie didn’t like smoking and fucking. Don’t get me wrong – he liked fucking. But he didn’t like smoking. And he didn’t like Tracy smoking. And he didn’t like fucking Tracy when she smelled of smoke. This was a problem, because Tracy didn’t just like smoking. She loved smoking. She adored it, she worshipped it, she lived for it. Which is kind of hard when your boyfriend hates it.

Most mornings, Tracy woke up craving a cigarette. And a fuck. Question is, if you can’t do them at the same time, which do you do first? Generally speaking, the cigarette won.

This particular Monday morning, Tracy got up extra early because she had a job interview to go to. Actually, she got up early because she was desperate for a cigarette, and she knew that there was a chance she might tiptoe outside, sneak a smoke, and then have a shower before Charlie woke up. She left him asleep in bed, put her dressing-gown on over her nightie, retrieved her packet of cigarettes and lighter from her handbag, and made her way downstairs and onto the back patio. She dangled a Marlboro Lights 100 between her lips, flicked the lighter, and felt her lungs fill with that glorious first-of-the-morning cloud of acrid smoke. Her lungs starved of nicotine after a whole night without, she didn’t bother to remove her cigarette from her lips to exhale, instead taking her favourite deep hands-free double-pump, no, a triple-pump – uh, no, make that a quad – until she felt that wonderful light-headed relief begin to take hold. Clouds of smoke poured luxuriantly from her nostrils as she clasped her cigarette firmly between her lips, the ash-end glowing bright with each drag from her needy lungs. “Oh fuck, that’s good!” she muttered to herself, making the cigarette jiggle up and down between her lips, as she felt her body being slowly suffused with that nicotine-induced pleasure she loved so much.

“Like when you really need a piss, and at last you get to have one,” she had tried to explain to Charlie – the closest comparison she could think of for a non-smoker. But she knew that that was a poor metaphor. Because smoking was like nothing else on earth. It was the centre of her being, it was the greatest delight of her life – yes, even more than fucking – which she knew Charlie would never understand.

Tracy’s cigarette was still firmly clasped in her mouth, for so long now that her saliva was causing the cork end to soften and adhere to her lips, and she had lost count of the number of multi-pumps she had taken. The as-yet-untapped ash-end was now at least a third of the length of the cigarette and sagged precariously, threatening to drop off and make a grey smear down the front of Tracy’s dressing gown. Just one more before I flick the ash, she thought, taking another long drag as deep as she could into her lungs, smoke still pouring from her nostrils. The ash-end dropped off onto her dressing gown. “Fuck,” she swore under her breath, hastily brushing it off with her left hand while flicking the cigarette with her right to tap off the loose ash. “Fuck, I’m smokin’ this so fast,” she muttered, struggling in vain to neatly flick off the ash-end, which was still glowing under the onslaught of her powerful smoking.

“One more drag, Trace, and this cigarette will be finished,” she muttered to herself, feeling quite high now. But then, informally assessing her own nicotine level, she thought again: Oh fuck, was this one enough? She knew the answer to the question already, clamping the dwindling cigarette between her lips again, shutting one eye to shield herself from the smoke curling up from what was rapidly becoming a short butt, and taking a deep tar-laden final drag whilst removing a second cigarette from her packet. It looked so new, so pure, so pristine in comparison to the damp, yellowing, misshapen butt in her mouth, which she now used to chain-light her second cigarette of the morning. “Oh fuck yeah, that’s good,” she muttered as the newer, lighter smoke from the new cigarette filled her lungs.

This one she was able to smoke initially with less desperation, but more pleasure. She still took deep drags, but removed the cigarette from her mouth after each one, allowing a small ball of white smoke to escape her lips, which she snap-inhaled with practised elegance. But she was still horny, which meant she had a choice: would she go inside and get herself fucked by her big-dicked boyfriend, or instead rub herself off here and now while she smoked? The former option was no longer practical, as she now reeked of smoke – which Charlie would certainly not put up with. And so, Tracy thought, option number two seemed a really good idea. Her back patio was, fortunately, not overlooked, and was sheltered from the view of any neighbours. She sat down on one of the patio chairs, clamped her cigarette between her lips again, slid her right hand under her dressing gown and nightie to find her pussy, and began to gently rub her clit.

Smoking was one of those strange things: whilst it satisfied Tracy’s nicotine cravings, it made her horny instead. And when both horny and high, Tracy liked to talk dirty under her breath: “Fuck yeah, that feels so fuckin’ good. Smoke that cigarette, bitch, while you rub your fuckin’ pussy.” All hope evaporated of smoking this second cigarette more elegantly than the first. She dragged deep on it again and again, clasping it between her lips whilst smoke poured out of her nose and, as she muttered to herself, the edges of her mouth. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna fuckin’ come, oh fuuuuuck!!!” She came hard but as quietly as she could (Mustn’t let the neighbours hear!), panting as her cunt spasmed around her fingers and smoke poured in and out of her desperate lungs.

Having orgasmed, Tracy’s desperation subsided somewhat, and she finished off her second cigarette more gently, taking the time to use her spare hand to gently comb through her long black hair, still somewhat dishevelled from her night’s sleep. She exhaled a couple of perfect narrow cones of smoke through her full lips into the still early morning air, then tipped her head back to perform a few nostril exhales through her delicate elfin nose, and finally blew a few batteries of small but lush smoke-rings, which drifted lazily upwards into the sunshine. There is nuffink better than smokin’! she thought to herself. Except maybe cummin’ on smoke, she thought, as she sniffed the cunt-scented fingers of her right hand. What a shame Charlie won’t let me smoke while he fucks me!

The thought brought her back to the bleak reality of her current situation. Now what do I do with Charlie? she wondered, as she stubbed out her second cigarette butt of the day. He’ll know I’ve been smokin’. Fuck.

Charlie was still asleep as Tracy, reeking of smoke, tiptoed past him into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, gargled with listerine, showered, washed her hair, gargled and brushed her teeth again, before tiptoeing naked back into the bedroom to dress. But Charlie was now awake, sitting up in bed: “Hey, come here and fuck me, darling,” he called in his customary Surrey drawl.

What do I say? Tracy thought to herself on the hoof, ’Sorry, babe, I just schlicked my cunt off on the patio while chainin’ two cigarettes, so I don’t really need a fuck now’? Not a good way to start the day... So instead she made excuses: “Sorry, babe, I gotta rush. Got a job interview this mornin’. Lemme have breakfast first, then I’ll see if there’s time.”

“Oh come on, if you have breakfast then you’ll want your first cigarette, and then you’ll smell of smoke. Let’s fuck now, then you can eat and then smoke and then go.”

’First cigarette’? thought Tracy. If fuckin’ only! Tracy studied the bedside clock. “Okay, babe. But we gotta be quick. Why don’tcha give me a quick doggy fuck?” she suggested, thinking to herself, That way he’ll be less likely to smell the smoke on my breath... And then she added out loud, so as to seem a bit more keen: “Then we can have a nice long fuck tonight, with blowjob and sixty-nine – and you can fuck my arse and everyfink, okay babe? Just a quick doggy in my pussy now, though!”

“Sounds good to me!” replied Charlie.

And so it was. Tracy knelt on the bed and stuck her arse in the air so Charlie could admire her gorgeous cunt, framed between her two beautiful round buttocks, and covered with a soft thatch of black hair. He approached from behind, crouched down, and began to kiss her arse, first all over her gorgeous buttocks, and then slowly homing in on her moist scented arse-crack. Tracy felt him bury his nose between her rear cheeks, nudging gently up against her brown hole so his tongue could snake underneath to lick her dangling fuck-lips. “Oh fuck, baby, that’s good,” intoned Tracy, as his tongue slobbered over her hot cunt, the tip catching every now and again on her clit. Silently she also thought: Good. If he gets cunt-juice all over his face, then that’s all he’ll be able to taste, and he might not notice the smell of smoke...