SmokinMen.com Community Forum Export http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php Mon, 06 Sep 2010 11:57:31 -0700 30 Dc Area Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1922
Marboro Reds here, about a pack a day.]]> Thu, 02 Sep 2010 16:30:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1922 Hot Smoking Session Leicester Uk http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1921
Contact me]]> Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:01:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1921 Little Rock Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1920 Will be in Little Rock Friday night. Looking to meet other smokers before leaving town. Tue, 31 Aug 2010 06:49:05 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1920 Encouraging Minors To Start Smoking http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1918
What do you guys think of encouraging minors to start smoking?

Personally, I l,ove to see minors smoking. I oftenly offer cigs to minors and usually these are accepted happily.

When I was 15 the neighbour's son offered me my first cigarette, he wanted to teach me how to smoke and he did! He kept pushing me until I finally smoked over my lungs for the first time. I do this to young guys as well these days.

What do you think of it? Is it good or bad? Would you do it if you had the opportunity? What is the absolute minimum age for you? I usually don't offer cigs to lads younger than 13 years old.

Tell me your thoughts!]]> Mon, 30 Aug 2010 01:36:25 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1918 Ever Have Non-smokers Help But Not Join In The Smoking? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1917 Sun, 29 Aug 2010 19:42:05 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1917 Damagers In Dc? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1916 On vacation in DC and looking to meet other damagers to smoke with. Send me a message here or at tarluvr2002@yahoo.com. Sat, 28 Aug 2010 11:07:20 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1916 Atlanta Area Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1915 Fri, 27 Aug 2010 12:50:53 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1915 Cologne http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1914
Do you wear it to cover the smell of your smoke?

If so, does it do a good job?]]> Tue, 24 Aug 2010 20:18:18 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1914 Any Other Hardcore Arizona Smokers? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1913 Mon, 23 Aug 2010 13:15:17 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1913 London 26/08-07/09 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1912
I'll be in London around these dates, so anyone willing to meet, let me know !

Pierre

PS : u into sneakers, Nike, Adidas, skate shoes or biking, you are so welcome.]]> Mon, 23 Aug 2010 04:05:57 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1912 The Thirst http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1911
Chapter One

If I hadn't missed the bus it would never have happened. So thank god I missed that bus. Not that god had much to do with it.

Of course I was pissed off at the time I actually saw the bus disappear down the road. I hadn't even much wanted to go to Jane's leaving do after work, but she was on my team so there was no way out of it. Actually it hadn't been too bad. The food was good, and the company was paying for the drinks. All the same I got away as soon as I could, keen to get back to my man. Six months we'd been living together but he'd been away for a few days, work, a site visit 200 miles away that meant a stay over in a hotel for him. So it was a bugger that now he was due back I was going to be late home myself.
I'd left the bar and crossed the park in a pleasant alcoholic haze, taking in the beautiful summer evening, the scent of the trees, the warmth coming up from the ground and a sky that amazing green you get at the tail end of sunset. There was that feeling of anticipation too, the park emptied of all its daytime visitors but on a night like this there'd be plenty of guys out cruising. I'd done my share of that and I felt a bit nostalgic about it. Which made me all the keener to get back to Karl. Old habits die hard though, so I had noticed a young guy in the distance. In other times I'd have wandered over.
Karl, that's my man, teases me a bit for being dreamy. I say you have to stop and smell the roses. Well, it was because I'd been dawdling, smelling the roses quite literally, that I missed my bus. I saw it just too late to run and watched it go with the sinking feeling that comes from knowing the next one isn't due for half an hour. Still I carried on and sat on the wall of the park by the bus stop, legs dangling. Nothing for it, I thought, I'll ring Karl. I hate using the car for just getting to work but he wouldn't mind coming to get me. Which was when I found I'd let my phone go flat. Double fuck and shit. At least I'd warned him I didn't know when I could get away. So he wouldn't worry. I braced myself for boredom.

“Have you got the time?”
“Quarter to ten.” I said automatically, before I looked up. Uh oh, I thought, feeling the old excitement inside. It was the guy I'd seen. At a distance I'd been hopeful, he was slim, tall, with braided hair. Up close I added a warm smile, bright eyes. Barely 20. A student? Then I noticed his watch, knew he'd seen that. And he looked right into my eyes, daring me.
“Missed your bus then?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to take a walk?”
I know, I shouldn't but, old habits... and he was a peach.
“Smoke?” he asked.
“No thanks. I don't.”
“You don't mind...”
“No go ahead.” It wasn't like I'd be kissing him. At least not on the mouth.

So he smoked as we walked round the boating pond, always magical in the twilight, cautiously eyeing each other up. I liked what I saw, and a smile said he did too. Nice to know I haven't lost it even though my age begins with a 3 these days. Actually I keep pretty slim and fit, and I suppose there is something to the suit and tie thing. He was much more casual, baggy shorts with bold stripes that emphasised his bubble butt and hinted at quite a bulge up front. Then into the seclusion of the botanic garden. What those bushes could tell. His hand explored and in moments I was fully hard. So was he, and quite a size. In the stillness there was just our breathing.
Karl had joked once that if either of us had the chance with Brad Pitt, no question, go for it. This was more of a grey area, but he was so sweet, and eager. His hand in my pants. Before I totally lost control I realised if I came Karl would know, disaster. But... well, no need for both of us to miss out, I thought. Just blow him and everyone's happy. I dropped his pants and knelt.
When my lips touched the head of his cock there was a suppressed moan. He was a good big handful, 8 inches maybe. Taking him in both hands, cock and balls, I licked all round the head. Both of us moaning now, god, I mean, I love sucking cock, and always swallow, but I never knew anyone taste as good as this guy. As I got to work he stepped out of his shorts, I couldn't figure out why he picked them up – then frankly I wasn't all that interested – till there was a flash of light and I looked up to see he'd lit a cigarette. It was kind of sensuous in a way, as he leant his head back to exhale up into the night sky. So I watched a bit, teasing the head of his dick again. He looked totally blissed out and smoking must have made it better for him 'cos pre-cum started leaking out. And I lapped it up. It was incredibly horny how good this guy tasted, sweet and musky and I wanted more, wanted his load. Some guys want to face fuck you, but he got that I was going to suck him off. It was kind of trusting as he let me do my stuff. Just as well with a dick that big. But he was easy to turn on, really sensitive in fact. I teased him for a while but not long. The more turned on he got, the more I wanted to taste that load. He did grab my head, I think to support himself, because moments later he came. Oh boy did he cum, thick hot spurts filling my mouth. I swallowed it down, milking him all I could. Shit he tasted so good I wanted every drop. Eventually he subsided and I took my time licking him totally clean, blissing out myself on the sensation.
He was all over me when I got up, sweet, so relaxed you could feel how good it'd been for him and I do like to please. We kissed too. Well there was that amazing taste of cum in my mouth. Turned on as I was the smoky taste of him seemed to blend and we were deep kissing, his hand was back on my crotch... I only just managed to retain a last particle of self-control and broke away.
“Sorry, bus to catch, remember.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, really. Thanks, but...”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, thanks, and...”
“Yeah?”
“I'll be here tomorrow. If you need me.”

I thought that was a funny thing to say as I wandered in a daze back to the bus stop hoping I hadn't ruined my suit. So I stopped off in the supermarket near home to check my appearance. There weren't actually twigs in my hair but I did tidy myself up a bit in the toilet mirror. A bottle of champagne seemed like a good idea. I got some mints too. I couldn't seem to get that taste of cum and smoke out of my mouth. It was kind of hot, but, well, a dead give away. Jesus, even though it had been just a bit of fun it felt like cheating on Karl and I'd rather not have that on my mind when I'd missed him so bad.
But then, he'd been missing me too. We didn't even make it to the bedroom, he had me halfway up the stairs. Of course, being an absolutely sweetie, I wasn't going to be far behind. And then....
“Ooh, you taste nice. Mmm, yes, so, nice.”
That was maybe just a little bit spooky but I was in no mood to ponder. Moments later my nuts boiled over and I almost passed out as I shot what felt like a three week load. Down his throat too, and Karl doesn't usually swallow. This time though he cleaned me up nicely. Thoroughly. And I'd never had a kiss when he tasted of my own spunk but I don't ever remember it tasting quite so good. I always thought his was better. I soon reminded myself it was. In fact better than ever. Guiltily it reminded me just a bit of the student's though without that extra smoky tinge...

Sex in the morning started while we were both half asleep. I like that. Its kind of instinctive. You're not thinking just doing, taken by physical desires. And mine was definitely for sucking cock. He seemed to taste even better this morning. Seemed he was in a sucking mood too because soon we were in a 69. And, unusually, even when I could taste he was getting close he didn't want to break away and fuck instead. It was really intense, both our faces buried in sweaty crotches. Fucking hot, and I couldn't tell if he was getting off more on my blow-job or on sucking me. It was like there was a competitive thing going on, each determined to get the other off first. In the end we came almost together. As soon as I lost it and came it sent him over the edge his sweet load filling my mouth was so hot it was like I was totally milked dry. Pretty stunning. Without a word said we kissed a bit and fell asleep again wrapped round each other.

Thank god it was the weekend because it was really late when we woke still entwined. It was like we couldn't keep apart. We showered together, though I almost regretted losing the musky scent that lingers from sweaty sex. Soon the shower got out of hand, soaping each other's bodies led to soapy dicks rubbing together and then he sucked me off again! I don't know how come he'd suddenly got to be a whole lot better cocksucker but I wasn't complaining. And he was really getting off on it, so much that I couldn't get to suck him in time. He shot over my face before I could finish sucking him dry. I was going to wash it off but he licked me clean. Some way to start the day.

Its funny how you don't talk about things. But then how can you say how you've got a kind of thirst for cum. That's the only way I could describe it to myself. It was like some kind of physical need, though never quite satisfied. Felt good though. And it was so good being together again we celebrated by going out for lunch – it was way too late for breakfast. Being another hot day we took an outside table. Fine except of course that meant we were exposed to people smoking. That is, usually, I'd mind. Today was different. I didn't like to think about it but the occasional drift of smoke on the breeze reminded me of the student smoking as I sucked him off. In spite of myself I found the scent arousing. Deliberately I said nothing. Oddly Karl made no comment either, even though next to us was a table with four guys barely in their twenties, all smoking none stop.

I might have avoided what came later if it hadn't been that Simon, a friend of Karl's who he knew I didn't much like, had rung with another of his crises. His latest affair had, predictably, ended in disaster and, as usual he turned to Karl. So, knowing I couldn't take it he went off on his own to console the big drama queen and I was left alone with very indifferent TV and a promise he wouldn't be late. Still that's no excuse for me going out to the park...

It wasn't just that I was horny - though I was, very - it was that kind of thirst again. I mean, I know I'm a pretty eager cocksucker, but I'd never had the feeling that I needed to suck someone off so bad. And he'd said, 'I'll be here... If you need me.'

He was on one of the benches by the boating lake, smoking, when I got there. It was that late twilight moment again, the green tinge on the horizon and everything seems still and full of expectation. He just gave me a smile as I sat next to him, then took a slow drag on his cigarette. I felt like he probably knew I disapproved of smoking because it felt like he was deliberately showing how much he enjoyed it... or needed it. I'm not sure which, but there was something about the way he took a long drag, savoured the smoke in his open mouth a moment before inhaling deeply that was sensual and almost insolent. In spite of myself I found it sexy. Just as the way he made no effort to prevent his smoke coming my way seemed some kind of odd challenge. I should have resented it but it seemed an oddly tempting smell.
“So, you don't smoke then?”
“No.”
“Never even tried it?” I shook my head, “What, not even one little puff?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” he paused to take another drag.
I don't know why I couldn't say anything. I just sat there and watched. Truth to tell I was getting turned on.
“Never even been tempted?” he asked.
“No.” My throat seemed curiously tight.
“You're such a bad liar.” he said, taking another drag.
“You know what I think?” he added, the hand with his cigarette now gently stroking the bulge in my jeans, “I think you're tempted right now. I think you might be thinking 'one little puff can't do any harm'. I think you might be wondering if it can really feel as good as it looks.”
“And it does feel very, very good.” he added and broke off to take a final drag on his cigarette, seeming to make it look pretty good, leaning back on the bench and tilting his head back in a very sensual way to exhale.
“Of course the problem is,” he said, becoming a little more animated again, though still very flirtatious. “that, if you do find you like how it feels, one thing might lead to another.”
He'd taken a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, Marlboro lights I noticed. I noticed too there was something sensuous even about that.
“So I'm thinking, would you like to light a cigarette for me? After all, its just one drag. You might not even have to inhale. Though maybe you wonder what that's like? And of course you know that just to take a puff on a cigarette would look just a bit silly. Whereas to light up and inhale. Well, you know that can be sensual. I can even tell you it would be exciting for me for you to light my cigarette. Especially if it's your very first time. Especially if you do inhale. And we could pretend you're only doing it for me. That you don't have any desire to smoke at all.”
This was some mindfuck. I don't know quite how he did it but I was really tempted to see what it was like to smoke now. No, more than tempted, turned on. And he was giving me the eye, letting me feel how this was a big turn on for him too. I think maybe it was the power of using his youth to turn me astray. Whatever it was when he held the pack out to me I took one of the cigarettes. Then he handed me a lighter.
“That's it. Nice and relaxed now. Take a deep breath. You know what to do. Impress me.”
I nodded.
“And remember to breathe out first.”
The deep breath helped. It was a kind of madness. Me smoke? But if I was going to do it I was going to do it right. I'd never even held a cigarette before but I could tell it was designed to fit the human hand. I found I could act it. I did know what to do. I breathed out, flicked the lighter into life, was glad I could just see to bring it up to the end of the cigarette. I sucked gently, the cigarette glowed to life and I tasted it. Intense, nothing like second-hand smoke. It sort of tasted right. Then I took the cigarette away, opened my mouth a little and inhaled. It was so easy. Weird and exciting and oddly satisfying to see the smoke I exhaled. Then I felt it. An odd heady feeling. What they called a rush. And I knew I had that smokers look. The one that was so sexy on his face. Then I remembered to hand him the cigarette and I could see I'd done well. Though of course nothing like the expert inhale he did. If the tiny amount of smoke I'd inhaled had had such a powerful effect I wondered what that must feel like.
“Thank you.” he said, “So, shall we go somewhere I little more private?”
In a daze I followed him to the same group of bushes. Holding so close our hard dicks were pressed together the smoky taste lingering in my mouth made him taste even better. He pulled back slightly to take a drag on his cigarette and when he blew the smoke in my face it seemed to light a fire in my dick.
“Breathe it in, silly.”
With his hand in my pants working my hard on I was totally turned on, watching him inhale then he exhaled and I took his smoke.
“That's it. Now for more.”
And this time he took a drag then kissed me, forcing the smoke from his lungs into mine.
“Oh god,” I moaned, and as I did smoke emerged.
He repeated the move and I could feel myself getting a bit lightheaded in a very good way. Then in a fluid motion he knelt, pulled my pants down. Dazed he could have done anything to me then. What he did was take one last long drag on his cigarette then bathed my dick in smoke as he took me in his mouth. After a moment he paused to light another cigarette and repeated the move. Occasionally I could feel the warmth of the smoke flowing over my balls, up my leg.
“Here, you take this. Smoke if you want. I think you'll like it.”
With both hands free he started doing amazing things to my cock and balls. I just took it for a while. But I had the cigarette. Knowing I shouldn't only made it more exciting to take a drag, inhale and oh god, I did like it. So much I did it again, feeling I was getting close now. I looked down to see he was looking up, watching me smoke.
“My turn.” he said, and with my balls in one hand, his other stroking my shaft I got that he wanted me to put the cigarette to his lips. I did, somehow much more aware of its warmth as he pulled on the cigarette for such a long time. Then, with the cigarette in my hand I pushed him back onto my dick. It was almost as if I could feel the warmth of the smoke as he exhaled over me. Whatever it was it was fucking doing it for me and I could feel myself getting closer. Knowing now what it did I took another drag, making it as long as I could, inhaling as deep as I could pleasure shooting through my whole body. I looked down to see he was wanking me pretty fast, just the head of my cock in his mouth and his eyes locked on mine. As it inhaled another drag I could see he was getting off on it too, so I exhaled down over his face, my cock.
“Oh yeah, feed me.”
Thinking he meant the cigarette I put it to his mouth again. As he dragged hard he gave my balls a twist and really hit the stroke on my dick.
“Oh god, I'm going to cum.”
His tongue rubbing underneath the head of my cock as smoke escaped from his mouth drove me wild.
“Oh yeah,” he said with such hunger, “Go on. Smoke. You'll love it.”
The first drag almost did it but I fitted in another, longer, deeper, there was a kind of buzzing sensation building in my head and gasping out smoke I began pumping cum into his eager mouth. And I kept on pumping and pumping. Fucking amazing.
“Oh yeah.”
Finally I was aware he was standing now. One very happy boy. We kissed, so much hotter now with the taste of cum mixed with the smoke.
“Come on, give me your smoke.”
Realising I did want one last drag I took it, inhaled then locked lips with him and breathed the smoke out and into his lungs. That was some feeling. So wrong. So horny. Obviously turned him on something rotten too. On top of the smoke and cum there was that sex smell on his breath. The way he was wanking, his panting breath told me he wasn't far off. He did pause to light another cigarette.
“Oh yeah baby, you thirsty?”
Was I. I dropped to my knees like a stone and clamped my lips on the head of his dick. It was almost like a competition. He was going to get off his load, but I was going to drink it. For a moment I didn't get why he pushed my face off his dick, till he pressed the cigarette to my lips. Knowing now he got off on it I went along with it and took a drag and let the smoke slowly curl over his dick in the sexiest way I could. Obviously did the trick, one more of those and he was right on the edge and I was tasting sweet pre-cum. Clearly he was determined to smoke as he came. I looked up to see him taking hard drags, inhaling, then before exhaling taking another forcing smoke from his nostrils till finally he'd exhale a huge cloud of smoke over me and his dick. Just a couple more of those and then he shot his load into my eager mouth. And when he'd worked off most of his load I went down on him and sucked up the last few drops. God that felt so good.

Surprisingly he didn't just bugger off into the night. Instead he lead me back to the bench by the pond. Then he lit two cigarettes and handed me one.
“Take it. Trust me you want it. You've got The Thirst and nothing is so good as a smoke when you've had a good drink.”
“The Thirst?”
“Just take the cigarette and smoke, then I'll explain.”
Somewhat doubtfully I took it. Even more doubtfully I smoked. Now the heat of the moment had gone I wasn't so sure. Didn't really know why I was doing it. Till I inhaled and then.
“Oh god.”
“How good is that?”
“Amazing.”
For a while all I wanted to do was smoke. I'd never known a feeling like it, pleasure and peace and satisfaction and... And it was so good to feel him next to me, smoking too. I was so glad he'd got me to smoke, it felt like something I'd been missing all my life. Eventually our cigarettes were finished.

“So, tell me about The Thirst.”]]> Sun, 22 Aug 2010 10:35:02 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1911 <![CDATA[Mid 20's College Stud Seeks Similar And Older]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1910
My stats: 6' tall, 165-170 lbs (muscle), not a twink but very firm and fit. Largely native american but look like ur avg white dude. I usually smoke marlboro lights sometimes 100s or whatever im not too picky generally speaking!

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Im a student so I dont have any obligations for at least a couple months...roadtrip partner maybe? I play well 1on1 or in small to medium sized groups and im hiv negative, tested regularly. I usually play safe as well.

Hope to talk to you soon!]]> Fri, 20 Aug 2010 05:29:17 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1910 Which Hand??? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1909 Fri, 20 Aug 2010 05:13:42 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1909 Oscar And Ian http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1908 I’m Oscar by the way, nineteen. I'm quite sporty – enjoy football, rugby that kind of thing. And I'm into fitness too – though I allow myself a drink or two. Got to have a treat now and again – and it’s not as if I smoke. Smoking’s for losers, it stinks for a start off and tbh I don’t see the appeal. I mean I saw the pictures of some sportsmen smoking cigarettes and I just think they look silly though it’s their life. I suppose, if I’m honest I don’t see why they would. I can understand like… well you see some of them celebrating with these big cigars and stuff, they look pretty cool – but nah, it’s not for me. Well it wasn’t anyway.

I’m getting off the point anyway. Camping – that’s where it’s at. Ryan’s brother Ian was going up the night before everyone else to set up – his mates do shift work and had to work that evening and it was important to get a good pitch on the campsite. So I was going to travel up with him, I suppose the campsite was about a good three-four hours away – stuff packed and everything we set off.

We weren’t even half hour in when Ian pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one.
‘Errr….’ I stammered ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
Ian grinned with his reply ‘I didn’t know you were gay until Ryan told me.’
I was feeling a bit uncomfortable, because I didn’t really like the smell. ‘Do you mind if I open the window?’
Ian looked a touch apologetic. ‘Sorry dude – the windows on this thing are broken. Something to do with the electrics. Mine opens slightly, I’ll do that for you if you want.’
With that Ian opened his window. Can’t say it was much - I couldn’t have even fitted my thumb in the gap, but it helped. I think Ian felt a little guilty though because he put some music on for me. He hates listening to music and stuff whilst he’s driving, but since I’d forgotten my ipod he lent me his, just told me to put the headphones on and listen. He said it would take my mind off of it. And you know I think it did because after a while I didn’t mind the smell so much. In actual fact I started to feel quite sleepy… I think…..

‘Oscar.’ Ian said gently ‘Oscar… wake up. We’re at some services, about an hour away. Why don’t you come in and stretch your legs a bit.’
I woke up really groggy – the music had stopped. Lazily I got out of the car and stretched. We had a wander round the services – we popped into the newsagents and got some drinks. Ian, I think just wanted some more cigarettes. I couldn’t help but notice the newsagents also had one of those like cigar stands – selling like Cuban cigars in tubes. It doesn’t interest me at all, I’m sure it doesn’t but I couldn’t help but stare at it from a distance. It was like I was lost.
‘Oscar’ Ian said sharply ‘Dude… you look as if you’re still asleep! What you staring at the cigars for? You were looking like a right weirdo. Good job this place is empty.’
‘Sorry, dude’ I replied ‘Just looked interesting not seen them like that before. Some cool designs on the tubes.’
Ian smiled ‘Yeah, well I suppose, they are pretty cool. I enjoy a cigar every now and then.’ Ian paused for a second… ‘Aww fuck it, looking at them makes me want one now. Look, I’ll just get these and we’ll set off again. You still look spaced out – why don’t you go back to the car and I’ll be there shortly.’

I don’t know what Ian was thinking but when he got back he handed me four tubed cigars to put in the glovebox. Said he got carried away and got a good deal, I just smiled and drifted back to sleep and before I knew it we were at the campsite, setting up the tents. All sorted, we sat down in the tent and admired our work whilst drinking cans of cider. We were laughing and joking, and then Ian said something strange… just one word ‘Sleep’.

I woke up, in a haze, I suppose I was floating a bit. I wanted to speak but couldn’t. I heard Ian’s voice ‘Concentrate on me.’ He said firmly. Ian slowly came into focus, he looked at me. ‘One of my friends used to be like you.’ He started ‘Didn’t like the smell of smoke from me and the rest of my mates… so we threw a house party one night had this music playing across the house. Got him drunk… he started to feel a bit spaced out and then he spotted this box of cigars on the side and couldn’t help staring at it. My mate had just been to Cuba… nice big fat cigars they were. I took one out of the box, clipped in and stuffed it in his mouth. He wasn’t going to say no, we’d sorted that one out.’ Ian started laughing ‘I can still see the look on his face with that cigar in his mouth, his eyes locked on my mate’s lighter, begging him to light the cigar. Good times.’

Ian pulled out a tubed cigar from earlier, clipped it and placed it in his mouth. He seemed to take a lot of enjoyment out of lighting it. Fully lit, he took a giant puff of the cigar and blew the smoke into my face. ‘Has the penny dropped yet?’ he grinned. ‘The ipod, the music? I mean that time my mates were around, the messages weren’t that strong, but by yourself…’ Ian moaned slightly ‘You are mine now… my mates will appreciate it because, well we don’t like non-smokers anyway. You obviously have an interest in cigars… so you’ll get on well with Mike. My little brother will appreciate it in time as well… I’ve been waiting for a while to get him started and with two of you… all your friends can too. That Clive.. he’d look great with a pipe hanging from his mouth… and that skinny shit Richard is going to look great as he chain smokes.’ Ian paused and took a puff from the cigar ‘I give you permission. You can speak now.’
‘Please…’ I stammered ‘Cigar…’

Ian waved his partially smoked cigar in front of me enjoying the power he had. Slowly he put it to my lips and I sucked greedily like a starving baby on a milk bottle. I loved watching the smoke drift upwards. Ian brought a mirror across. ‘Doesn’t my little trainee look so cool with his big cigar’ he smiled. I had to agree… I loved the way I looked with it and watching the smoke. I was still in his trance, but watching me puff on the cigar made me hard and horny. My jeans started tenting… but Ian didn’t mind taking care of it as he sucked me off, only pausing to pass me another cigar. The trance had vanished… but I knew now that I was a cigar smoker; and to be honest it turned me on more. Afterwards I looked into his eyes as I took a puff of my cigar.
‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ Ian smiled ‘Nice choice of cigar too. You and I are going to have lots of fun with my little brother now…’
The final comment not registering I responded ‘I didn’t know you were gay either….’

To be continued...]]> Tue, 17 Aug 2010 15:39:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1908 The Cigarette Community http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1907
The Cigarette Community
Brian Grisham

Mark Tommel made his way into the bar. As he sat down on the wooden stool he eyed his new surrounding- red plush wall paper lined the walls, framed with a solid oak trimming. Wine glasses hung over the bar counter like an army of glass angels. They gave out a faint, crisp tingling sound as they delicately brushed up against each other. The dark, hardwood floor glimmered in the dimmed overhead lighting and for an instant Mark saw himself in it, crying out in terror.
He had no idea what brought him here that afternoon, only that he knew he had to come. Few people were inside, sitting at the bar and looking at Mark as if they had never seen a human being before. A stranger, their narrowed eyes told him.
"Good afternoon," said the old bartender. "What’ll it be?"
To Mark the bartender’s voice sounded tough and ballsy for an old man. He smiled, wiped his lips and said, "A cold one."
The old bartender, who Mark would later know as Brent "the sheriff" Wilson, gave him a friendly smile in return.
What did make him want to come in here? He was a top supervisor executive at Treewell, a new and upcoming computer software company- a growing giant among a wilting forest of over-developed companies in Silicon Valley. He was important in his establishment. He flew to Hong Kong and Cairo and Paris, giving countless presentations explaining how the company would revolutionize the way software would be ran in the future... and the future is today- he would add.
And the future was indeed today. Not too long ago California passed a new non-smoking law that banned smoking not only in front of businesses both small and large but within bars and dance clubs as well. Well, he didn’t have to worry about the dance clubs. He was thirty five, balding and married with one and a half kids. However this meant he could no longer smoke on his lunch break or at the bars he and his executive friends visited on occasion. He couldn’t smoke in public parks if he decided to take a walk down the street. He had tried that and was almost finned for loitering. In a park? The police had warned him, and when Mark had crushed his butt with the bottom of his shoe he was ticketed for littering.
But today he found himself in a bar- a bar he had never visited before. Had he seen it every now and then? Yeah, he thought he had. Sam’s Bar was the name of the place. It smelled like old cigars, cheap perfume and cold, cold beer with a hint of urine. He never really drank that often. He had partied in college and of course had his fare share of hangovers and one night stands, but now he was a married and responsible man who was on the verge of making it big.
"Here’s your beer, sir," said the old bartender. "That’ll be two seventy-five."
Mark nodded as he brought his wallet out from his back pocket and handed the bartender three ones. "Keep the change," Mark said. He put his wallet away and looked at the tall glass of foaming beer. He took the cold glass in his hand and brought it to his lips. Ahh, it was like heaven.
"Never seen yah in here before, mister," the bartender uttered as he dried off a glass and set it aside.
"Yeah," said Mark. "I work back on Pantel Road."
The old bartender widened his eyes and made his lips into an "o".
Mark smiled and continued, "I used to take my lunch in the building’s atrium. We all did until the new smoking laws passed. People there still eat lunch but if they have to smoke they have to leave the property.
The old bartender nodded his head from side to side and replied, "Such a shame."
Mark brought out a pack of his Marlboro Reds and set it on the counter top, then he said, "I can’t even smoke in a bar either. It’s like those health fanatics are slowly closing in on us smokers. They’re tightening their grip on our rights and yet they overlook other inhuman ideals."
The old bartender leaned over and uttered, "And those are?"
"Well...," said Mark. "like... like uh..."
"That’s okay," said the old bartender. "I know exactly what you mean." He eyed the pack of cigarettes, smiled and asked without looking back up, "How long have you been smokin‘?"
Mark sat straight up in his stool, took a deep breath and answered, "Has to be a little over fifteen years now."
The old bartender nodded then said, "There was a time when I smoked. I quit three years ago... had to."
"Oh? Was it serious?" Marked asked then took another drink.
The old bartender snorted laughter then leaned forward and uttered, "Depends what you think serious is, eh?" He chuckled lightly to himself then said, "I had breathing complications, I collapsed here, to the floor. The doctor’s diagnoses suggested that I had cancer... but lucky for me I only developed a severe case of asthma. Sure I sneak a ciggy from time to time, but I watch my P’s and Q’s. At least twice a day I have to use an inhaler, and damn it’s a burden. A real shitty burden."
"Well, I’m sorry to hear that," said Mark.
"So, now are you thinking about quitting?" The bartender asked.
Mark looked at the old bartender and scoffed, "Why should I? Just because smoking causes damage to some people doesn’t mean it’s going to hurt me."
The old bartender gave Mark a little smile, a smile Mark didn’t really like. It reminded him of a secretive man. A man who was planning somebody’s fate. The old bartender moved closer to him, took something out of his apron pocket and whispered, "Come back here later this evening. I have a friend you should meet." He peered left then right and raised what he had in his hand. It was a card with a name and nothing else. "His name is Sunny Daniels. He’s the man to talk to about this sort of problem."
Mark took the card in his hand. It was white with only the name, Sunny Daniels centered in the middle. Mark drank down more of his beer and said, "I don’t need help. Smoking is not a problem for me-"
"No," said the old bartender. "I never said smoking was your problem. I meant that the new laws were. This man can help you. He’s helped me and dozens of others." He then looked at Mark straight in the eyes and whispered, "This man has a talent, Mark. Some even call him a prophet."
Mark finished the last of his beer and said, "Later tonight, huh?"
"This evening, yes," the old bartender whispered then started to clean out the beer glasses that lined the bar top. "Sunny will show you things you’ve never dreamed of... he’s a miracle man.
Mark was confused about this last comment- ‘a miracle man.’ He left the bar and returned to work and thought about what the old bartender had said. This man, Sunny Daniels could make it so that it was legal to smoke in public places. Well it’s the only clear message he could get out of it. But how could that be? Mark figured he must have understood the bartender wrong. Maybe he was trying to trick him into thinking that so when he’d return the man, Sunny Daniels, could bring him into the back room and give a lecture about the dangers of smoking. Emphysema, heart disease, lung cancer, throat cancer, early wrinkles and even... bad breath.
Perhaps that was what the old bartender had in store for him, after all he himself had quit and maybe it was his so called duty to persuade others to quit as well. Well, Mark wasn’t having it. Sure, he’d go along with the bartender’s little game, but he was damned if there was anyone on Earth who was going to make him stop smoking. Hell, even his wife couldn’t get him to quit after all these years. There was just no way.
As the sun began to set, Mark peered at his Rolex and saw it was a quarter past six and figured seven would be a good time to leave work and head down to the bar. He was surprisingly interested to meet Sunny and while he was there he could have a beer or two just for fun. Of course he looked forward in talking to the old bartender again. He never did catch his name. Though in a place like that it wasn’t too important. A bartender was what everyone thought of him as, and that was as a good a name as anything else.
Mark cleared his throat and swallowed the loose phlegm. He needed a cigarette. What he wouldn’t give for that salty, smoke taste of tobacco, tar and the yellow stained filter of the cigarette butt. It was all too good. He eyed his computer screen one more time then swiped off his glasses and ran his hands from the top of his balding head down to his tired face, rubbing his eyes as he did so. He then peered out of his office window and caught site of his reflection as the sun sunk past the rolling mountains from afar. He even looked beat. With all that was going on lately he thought about his retirement portfolio and his stock investments he nearly had to bail out of.
"Too much," he said to himself. "Too much bullshit."
Even his voice sounded worn as if he suddenly grew into an old man, crabby and bitter against the world and his own life. Hey, he wasn’t bitter though... maybe a bit crabby. He needed a cigarette. He needed a cigarette to calm his nerves and bring him back into the real world that somehow vanished behind a desert curtain of acid radiation, blinding not only his sight but his senses as well.
Mark sighed and looked back at his watch- six thirty-eight. He stood up from his chair and turned off the computer. Oh hell, he could use a break. The craving for nicotine had clamped its elemental hands around him, and he couldn’t fight it any longer. Giving in seemed much more satisfying after all.
Mark exited the building, climbed into his Mercedes and zoomed out of the parking lot which always seemed to take forever. So many people worked in the building, and it was even surrounded by the company’s own personal railroad tracks. Heh. That had always cracked him up and made him thankful that he was practically in charge of a company such as this. But today he wasn’t quite thankful, he just wanted to leave the grounds so he could finally light up, inhale a soothing drag of tar, nicotine and cancer, and lay back and relax. It all seemed too simple.
Finally he drove past the exit gates with the company’s security guard standing post, then he turned left and sped down the street toward Sam’s Bar. Yeah, that was the name of the place. Mark dug out his pack of Marlboro Reds from out of his center console, took a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He could already taste the tobacco on his tongue. He then produced a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette, inhaled and forced the smoke from his lips and out the window. Ahh, that was more like it.
The bar was twice as crowded than before but not uncomfortable enough to leave, though the cowboys toward the back were pretty obnoxious. Mark took a seat at the same place where he had sat before. He got the card that the old bartender gave him from out of his wallet and tapped it against the bar counter top, wondering why he came back in the first place. Everyone in the bar was drinking draft beer. A skinny guy with heavy freckles covering his entire face was drinking two at a time while a girl sat on his lap and giggled as she ran her hands along his chest. Mark raised his eyebrows and hoped that that was not Sunny. He turned away from them, and there behind the bar he found the old bartender. Mark smiled.
"Hi there," said the old bartender. "Glad you could make it." His teeth were badly stained and reminded him of dead bones. Dead bones, dead bones.
Mark shivered then said, "Hi. Um, I figured I could at least meet the guy. That’s if what you said was true..."
"And what’s that?" Asked the old bartender.
Mark swallowed and thought for a moment, hoping he wasn’t going to sound like an idiot then said, "That this guy, Sunny, could change the cigarette laws so that people could smoke in public bars again."
"Ahh, yep. That’s the guy. He could do just about everything," the old bartender said, then he asked, "What can I get you?"
"Mark eyed the selection quickly, "Miller, please."
The old bartender smiled. He filled the glass up and set it in front of Mark.
Mark wet his lips and handed him a five and asked, "So is Sunny in tonight?"
The old bartender peered past Mark, smiled widely and said, "There he his right there..." He nodded his head, indicating that Sunny was behind him.
Mark turned around and found an old man sitting in a booth. A dark, wooden cane was against his leg and the very top of it was in his grip. The old man was black... his skin wrinkled and his face kind. His short shaven beard held spots of gray which gave him a look of distinction, even in his old, out of date olive green suit that looked ridiculously cheap.
Sunny gave Mark and the old bartender a wide smile, revealing a gold tooth in the top front of his mouth as he tipped his ragged hat which kindly matched his wear. The old bartender smiled and waved back. Mark just smiled and thought to himself, I was hoping for a congressman. How is this guy going to do anything for me?
Sunny sat up from his seat and made his way toward the bar with a noticeable limp. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tommel. I’m Sunny Daniels," he said with an old and yet vigorous voice as he held out his hand.
Mark looked at it then shook it and said, "Good to finally meet you, just call me Mark."
Sunny smiled and peered at the old bartender and said, "Thanks Sheriff, I got it from here."
Marked looked back at the old bartender. A nickname of course. And a fitting one at that.
"Yes, it is," Sunny said as he turned Mark around toward the booth and limped back to where he sat. "His name is Brent Wilson. He used to be the Santa Clara county sheriff years back, but he retired early. Some people just need 'em early yah know."
Mark smiled and could have sworn he smelled a hint of whiskey on Sunny’s breath.
"Have a seat, Mark," said Sunny as he eased himself down into his seat and gently laid his wooden cane back down beside him.
Mark sat down across from Sunny and folded his hands under his chin. He then asked frankly, "So, how are you going to change the state laws that would allow me to smoke in a bar?" He waved his hand about and continued, "Or so that I can smoke outside my building again?"
Sunny eyed him seriously and uttered, "Well, I do admit, Mark that I cannot just wave my hand in the air and automatically make the laws change. It’s just impossible."
"....But you know people who could," Mark said, but he already knew the answer.
"Nope," said Sunny. "I know of no one in office what so ever. Damn, I haven’t even voted since nineteen sixty-nine."
Mark sighed, "Great..."
"But I think you’re confused with something, Mark." Sunny leaned closer and continued, "What I’m offering to you is not a change of laws, per say... but a change in environment."
"Uh?"
Sunny licked his lips and whispered, "I can change many things... anything you so desire."
Mark leaned back and rolled his eyes. "Oh, no. Here comes the anti-smoking bullshit again."
Sunny frowned and asked, "Anti-smoking? Look, now you’re totally confused. I guess the best thing for me to do is show you what I mean. I mean, most people have a hard enough time just understanding what it is I’m going to bring them into."
Mark scratched his head, lightly running his hand over his baldness, then asked, "You’re not going to try to talk me into quitting?"
Sunny laughed. It sounded like a snort and a wheeze mixed into one. He then exclaimed, "Quit! That’s a funny one, my man. I ain’t say a damn thing about quitting. I’m talking about rights. I’m talking about liberation from the mass hysteria that the news media has about smoking those oh so deadly cigarettes of yours. People have the right to inhale smoke no matter what happens to them. Am I right?"
Mark smiled. He was starting to like this guy but was still confused about one thing. "How are you going to make it legal then?"
Sunny laughed again and stood up from his seat and grabbed onto Mark’s elbow. "I’ll show yah, man. And when I do it’s a done deal. You will never want to return to this and, you’ll have no hard feelings at all."
Mark stood up with his eyebrows raised. No hard feelings, eh?
Together they went to the bar and Sunny muttered to Brent, the old bartender, "Hey, Sheriff. We’re going down to the room. I don’t want any disturbances, yah hear?"
Brent nodded his head and looked at Mark with a gratified smile. "He helped me, Mark. He’s sure to make everything right for you too. Don’t worry."
Mark thought to himself, worry? What’s to worry about? Then he and Sunny went toward the back of the bar. As they reached an unlit storage room, Sunny crouched down on his knees and muttered, "Where’s that damn, stinkin’ piece of shit- oh here it is." He then opened up a trap door from the floor.
"What’s that?" Mark asked, wondering if this would be a great time to back out.
"This leads to the basement. It’s where the liquor's stored," Sunny said with a tiny voice.
"Oh? But why are we going in there?" Mark asked curiously.
"Bah, I can only show you... it’s the only way I can explain it."
Mark nodded and eyed Sunny’s movements carefully through the deepened shadows.
"Follow me, Mark. There’s a ladder here, but watch the first rung. If you’re not careful it can cleave you in the chin."
Mark watched as Sunny made his way down the ladder and disappear into the black abyss. Then Mark crept closer to the opening through the floor and looked down, trying to see past the pure darkness, but he couldn’t see Sunny or even hear him. It was as if he had vanished into a different realm filled with atrocities and death.
Then finally Sunny spoke, "Hey, you coming down or what? I don’t have all day."
Mark flinched back and realized that he was over reacting. Of course there was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. He then got down on his knees and felt for the ladder. Once he found it he made his way down, carefully avoiding that first rung which would indeed knock the teeth from out of your mouth if you weren’t careful.
After Mark reached the ground, Sunny flicked on the light switch and extended his hand outward for Mark to continue on. Three dimly lit bulbs flickered on over head, revealing endless rows of wine racks covered in thick dust and cobwebs. The room was dry and reeked of alcohol, and Mark had to cover his nose from the rotten stench. He wondered if it could get any worse than this. Hell, cigarette butts sweltering in a sand-ashtray smelled fresher than this basement did.
"Just keep going straight till we reach the door," said Sunny, reassuring Mark that their little journey through this room was almost over.
Mark took the lead, peering left to right at the moving shadows around them until finally they reached the door. "It’s stuck," he whispered.
Sunny took the door knob and jiggled it. "Yeah, it gets like this from time to time."
"Jeez," said Mark. "It doesn’t look like anybody’s used it in years."
"You’d be surprised, my friend," Sunny uttered then forced the door open with his shoulder. "There."
Sunny stepped through first, clearing the hanging cobwebs in his path. Mark stood silent by the door and peered into the unlit room. The air coming from out of it was stale, although it was one thousand times better than the rotten stench he just left behind. But he was afraid of what might be lurking in the cellar; spiders, giant insects about a foot long and death, but he didn’t smell anything that could be mistaken for rotting flesh. Unless perhaps the bodies have been in there for so long that the only things left were their dusty, dried up bones.
"Don’t be scared, Mark," said Sunny. Then he asked, "You still got your lighter?"
Mark thought for a moment then remembered the lighter in his pants pocket. "Yeah, I have it," he said softly.
"Toss it over, man."
Mark fished the lighter from his pocket then stopped. Toss it where? He couldn’t see a damn thing.
"I’m right in front of you. Just toss it over," Sunny assured him.
Mark stared through the blackness for a few seconds longer then tossed it out into the room. He didn’t hear it land and bust into pieces at least. "Sunny? Sunny?" He whispered harshly. Then before he could call out a third time the lighter lit just six feet in front of him.
Mark relaxed somewhat. He followed the flame a ways then saw the start of a larger fire right beside it. He could see Sunny through the little light that was there and some parts of the room as well. It looked like an old, dried out well used to be in operation there, and to his right he found some old plumbing equipment. Stuff that probably hadn’t been around in fifty, sixty years or so.
Mark turned to Sunny and whispered, "Where in the hell are you taking me? Shit, no one’s been down in here in ages. Look at this..."
Sunny smiled then walked closer to him. "This well was used about eighty or so years ago. It was finally boarded up in the nineteen twenties during the prohibition." Sunny lifted the torch higher in the air which revealed the wooden ceiling. "The well became obsolete by then and modern plumbing was installed. Kinda neat if you think about it."
"Interesting indeed," said Mark as he stepped closer to the well. He ran his fingers over it and noticed it was made of iron wrought and wood. The wood seemed pretty cheap though, but he supposed it was used for the looks rather than for actual working parts.
Sunny took a hold of another torch and lit it with his. He then handed it to Mark and said, "Here, you’ll need this where we’re going. The walk may be a little long but the rewards are far greater, my friend."
Mark took the torch in his hand and watched as Sunny bent down and pulled open another trap door that led underground. Mark couldn’t believe it. Two trap doors! Then he remembered what Sunny said about the prohibition. The people back then were pretty sneaky about how they imported their liquor. Creative too.
"Moonshine was especially popular in these parts. Well, I guess it was popular all over... to tell you the truth," said Sunny as he made his way down the iron grate that was used as a ladder.
Mark hunched over him so he could try to get a clearer view of the tunnel below, and from his standpoint it looked as if the entire tunnel was dug up through concrete. He was very nervous now but at the same time he was enjoying his little tour of the past. When was the last time he got to explore a very old piece of history with barely any lighting and a torch in his hand? He then thought about his wife and figured he would be home shortly, after all, how long could this tunnel be anyway? A mile, if that? And he figured once he was back up into the modern world he would just shake Sunny’s hand, thank him for the interesting time and head on home. Mark smiled gladly and practically sprinted down the ladder. There was nothing to it at all.
"Now, you gotta watch the walls Mark. If you go too near you can slip on the loose chunks of cement. You can even scratch yourself from the rhubarb poking out so you constantly have to be aware of where you’re goin’."
Mark slowed down and swallowed hard. It was a tight fit indeed. The ceiling was probably about five inches from his head. Sunny had to take off his hat just to continue onward. At least the putrid smells were gone, and now all Mark could smell was chalky concrete dust.
For a little over an hour they made their way down the long and winding corridor. They had to stop twice to rest, and that was all right for Mark. He needed a few minutes to catch his breath while Sunny gave his feet some time to cool off. Sunny wasn’t as young as he used to be and Mark was kind of thankful for that. If he had to run, just in case, he knew he could easily get away.
Mark lit a cigarette.
Sunny coughed, waved his hand in front of his face and exclaimed, "Man, that’s the fifth cigarette you had since you’ve been down here! Now there ain’t much air down here already... and the air that is isn’t the best quality, if you get my drift."
Mark nodded his head and rolled his eyes, then he took one last drag and tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "If I had known it was bothering you this badly I wouldn’t have lit it..." Mark uttered.
Sunny eyed him and said, "Thanks, man. That’s much appreciated." He then stood up and said, "Alright, let’s go. It ain’t much further. Just another ten minutes and we’ll be outta this damn hole."
Mark smiled. "I can’t wait."
Mark and Sunny continued for another twenty minutes before they ran across the city’s sewer system. Mark wondered if this was the worst of it. From there they went east, wadding through the ankle deep sewage water, until Sunny suddenly stopped and smacked his wooden cane against the cement pike. The firm clanking echoed throughout the endless sewer tunnels, and Mark spun around for Sunny. Sunny peered upward with wide eyes.
"What’s there?" Mark whispered.
"This is it, Mark," Sunny said diligently. "This ladder will lead you back to the city streets."
Mark crept closer to Sunny, reaching his hands outward for a ladder rung. He found the wrought-iron bar and then another. He looked at Sunny for a moment and tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t come up with a damn thing. Well, he was going up and out into the city above. He knew it was all a game but Sunny’s eyes said otherwise. And it was strange- he felt as if his eyes had actually spoke to him. Smoke and death.
Mark nodded to Sunny and started his ascent. He climbed up about six rungs then looked downward for Sunny. He finally knew what he wanted to say, but the man was gone. Perhaps it was better if he had never met him at all. Mark sighed and continued to climb. Only twenty seconds later he reached his destination by accidentally smashing his face into the manhole cover. He cried out but was able to regain his composure. He slid the manhole cover to the side and climbed out onto the street.
The city lights bathed down on him like giant stars glaring down from the cosmos. However, they appeared different as if they were alive and waiting for him. A new creature. A new man. But these lights weren’t men at all... not even alive. Just watching him. Staring.
He walked down the city streets and back to his car parked behind the bar. Sam’s Bar. And the entire time he felt uncomfortable walking underneath the city lights. He had looked up at one and could have sworn it was spying down at him. Ugh, maybe he had spent more time than he thought underground, and maybe the nauseous fumes from the sewer had affected him more than he originally had thought. He not only stunk of human feces but he felt like it too. The entire trip under the city could only have lasted for an hour and a half, but instead it felt more like three or four hours. How long had he really been down there?
At last he found Sam’s Bar. The lights were out- very understandable, but the whole area seemed different. Something had changed there as well. Then a wave a fear rippled throughout his body. What if his car wasn’t in the back parking lot? Ah, but it was. Right where he had parked it. It sat alone in the desolate parking lot as if it was abandoned.
Mark smiled. Home at last. He fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. The smell of fine leather invaded his nostrils but there was another smell as well. Cigarettes. Sure he smoked in his car. Everyday before work and everyday after and whenever he could during lunch. But this smell was much different. It was stronger and almost made him want to gag.
"God damn," he spoke to himself. "It smells like a fucking toilet."
Mark left his door wide open so he could air his car out. As he stood there he wondered if he had left a lit cigarette in the ashtray before he left for the bar. He did remember smoking after he left the Treewell building, but he could had sworn he threw the sucker out the window when he was finished.
After a few minutes, Mark hoped in his car and made his way home. He couldn’t wait to tell Melony about his odd day. Sure he knew that there was a chance his wife would nag at him about going to a bar alone, drinking beer and then following a man under the city sewer system only to pop up miles away from where his car was, because he was curious if he could change the smoking laws in San Jose. Hmm, then perhaps it was a bad idea to say anything at all.
Mark nodded his head and ran his fingers through what remained of his hair. He’ll just tell her he went drinking with some friends and things got carried away and now he smells like shit. Literally.
"Speaking of shit," Mark said to himself and cringed. "Ugh."

Melony Tommel finished putting away the dishes and crossed the room to her thick, cushiony chair. Work was a bitch as it always was at CBM Tech. And after a full night with her three year old son, Eddie and straightening up the house she was now ready to retire, for good. Well at least she felt that way. She missed her husband, Mark. He had told her he would be out with friends tonight and probably won’t be back home till late. Though Melony found it kind of weird hearing this from her husband. Since when was the last time he went out with friends? Melony figured four years ago before Eddie was born.
She sat in her chair, picked up the television remote and turned on the Ten o’clock news, though she hardly ever paid attention to what was happening. She just laid back, closed her eyes and ran her hand over her full stomach. Her baby was due in six months. She secretly hoped for a girl. Mark always told her it was going to be another boy, but she would just nod and smile. Oh, she hoped it would be a girl.
Within minutes Melony nodded off to sleep and later was awakened by the front door. She blinked her eyes and rubbed them dryly and turned toward her husband. She didn’t smile nor did her eyes light up with relief. She just looked at him through droopy eyelids. She didn’t want to talk to him at all, at least she wasn’t planning to, until she caught the scent of what was emanating off of him.
"You smell like shit, Mark," Melony said tiredly.
Mark looked at his wife and blinked. He remembered the street lights outside and how they seemed different somehow. He had that same feeling with Melony. Everything was the same and yet different. Mark drew in a deep breath and let it exhale slowly. He then turned toward the television set. It was on with the volume turned down low. Then he glanced at the kitchen and panned his vision back to his wife. Everything was different.
Finally Mark said in a dry voice, "Yeah, me and some buddies got together tonight. Had more fun than I should have I guess." He gave a little nervous smile.
Melony rolled her eyes and muttered, "I know, I know... just odd that you guys happened to pick this night of all nights."
"Well... it was a Tuesday night- a guys night. You know," Mark said as he stepped backward toward the bathroom.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Melony. "Just go and clean yourself up. I’ll be in bed. Asleep."
Mark nodded, let out another nervous smile then disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door. Safe, for now. He showered longer than usual. Before soaping himself up he examined the soap, the shampoo and his wife’s pink Bic razors. He found nothing alarming, but he did see a difference in the walls. They seemed more yellow. Then again, it could just be the lighting.
After finishing his shower, he wrapped himself in a towel and went into the bedroom and reached over and fumbled for the lamp. He hated the bedroom lamps. He could never find those damn switches. He glided his hand up the lamp’s neck and there it was. Mark smiled and turned it on. The first thing he saw was his wife’s black hair. She always fell asleep with the top half of her head sticking up from the blankets. It’s as if she were a child hiding from the boogyman and as long as she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t find her.
Mark felt like the boogyman. No he wasn’t dangerous, but he felt unwelcome somehow, as if he didn’t belong. He yawned and closed his eyes for a moment. It was a long day and tomorrow would be even longer if he didn’t get needed rest.
Mark sighed then moved his hand up to turn off the lamp when he caught sight of something unusual on the end-table. An ashtray. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Just an ashtray. But it hit Mark’s senses like a slap in the face. There were five crushed cigarette butts inside the ashtray, and Melony didn’t smoke. She hated smoking and everything about it.
No, he didn’t feel like the boogyman any longer. The ashtray was the boogyman. And damn it, it was here to stomp him out. And he hadn’t noticed before- probably because he had reeked of ah-la sewer, but the bedroom stunk of the stomach churning, pungent smell of burnt tobacco. Mark looked at his wife again and frowned. He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
Mark got out of bed and into the shower when the alarm clock went off. He figured he could take a couple short naps in the office. Melony wanted to join him but Mark quickly refused. He could barely stand the sight of her.
After getting dressed, he joined his wife and son at the breakfast table. He didn’t want breakfast or to even converse. He wanted to look at his son to see if he too was different. And indeed he was. His blue eyes were dark and deep as if they were sunken sapphires at the bottom of the ocean. Those eyes stared at him as if he was stranger, for there was no bond between them.
Mark turned back to look at his breakfast. Oatmeal. He hated that crap. Then he caught the harsh smell of a cigarette burning. It was in the kitchen with him. For an instant he thought it was something on the stove, but he recognized the heavy, sweet smell. Cigarettes.
"Want one?" Melony asked as she took a drag of her cigarette.
Mark froze. He couldn’t believe it. His wife was smoking! Mark shook his head and blinked hard, waiting to wake up from some bad dream. But it wasn’t a dream. He was awake and in the kitchen with his wife who detested the very thought of smoking, and she was here, smoking away like there was no tomorrow.
Mark pointed at his wife’s cigarette and uttered, "You’re... you’re smoking."
Melony looked up at Mark and said, "Yeah, so what. You know I enjoy the taste right after breakfast."
Mark raised his eyebrows, disbelieving what he had just heard. "But you’re six months pregnant for Christ sakes! And you HATE smoking! Hell, you could barely even stand being around me!"
"What the fuck, Mark? You go out one night with your fucking friends and you come home smelling like shit, and now you’re barking at me for no fucking reason. Jesus Christ!"
"No, that’s it. I’m off to work and I have no idea when I’ll be back home," Mark said flatly.
"Hey!" Melony shouted. "It’s your turn to drive Eddie to daycare! Don’t you dare forget about our child!"
Eddie started to cry, which sounded like a headache ready to explode. Ugh!
"No," said Mark as he pointed to Eddie. "That’s not my fucking child." Then he rushed out the door with no further word.
The office, Mark discovered, was moved to one of the top floors of the building. He actually had to ask his staff if they knew where it was. They just eyed him curiously and pointed up. Apparently his office was the entire thirty-third floor. And he also noticed something else- nearly everyone in the building was smoking. That made, of course, Mark want to light up. And of course he did so. It was so relaxing to smoke in his office, all alone and peer down at his window and watch the busy intersections of cars, busses and people. And, yes, all the people were smoking.
Mark turned away from the window and thought about last night. He thought about Sunny and the old bartender, the sheriff. What did "the sheriff" tell him? This man has a talent, Mark. Some even call him a prophet. The very words made the hair on his arms and neck stand straight up. He needed to find Sunny and get answers damn it. Before... before what?
Before it was too late.
Mark lit up another cigarette. The smoke filling his lungs felt so relaxing and at the same time it pained him to know that he would be stuck with this habit till he was dead and buried and rotted from the inside out. He eyed the smoke which filled the room. It made him think of the low fog along the San Francisco Bay. Only this wasn’t morning fog. It was toxic smoke coming from the tip of his cigarette and his lungs.
Mark coughed. The smoke also made him think of something else. About the city street lights. Last night on his way to his car he had felt like they were watching him, studying him. There was, he discovered, a certain truth to that. This morning while stopped at a stop light he happened to look up at one of those street lights and found a tiny black box just on the side of it. He identified it right away- a camera. It was like this on every street light all throughout the city. He wondered if they were placed there to monitor traffic, monitor pedestrians, or perhaps for something more devious. To monitor the people in general.
Mark focused his eyes on the tip of his cigarette then peered back out the window into the late afternoon skyline. An hour ago he bought a pack of cigarettes in a little shop inside the building. They didn’t have his brand, Marlboros. Apparently they went out of business five years ago, which he found disturbingly odd. In its place was a new brand called, Stick. Mark bought a pack, though just one since cigarettes now cost ten-fifty a pack. Ouch! The over-weight woman behind the counter complained about the tax being too high, but she added that it was all for a good cause. Mark asked what exactly this "good cause" was, and she told him it all went to medical aid for those who were dying from smoking related illnesses.
Dying, Mark thought to himself. The money went to the people who had smoked and were dying because of it. Mark crossed the room to his desk and picked up the pack of cigarettes. There wasn’t a Surgeon General’s warning of possible illnesses, nor was there a list of ingredients. The only thing printed on the side of the box was: 105% nicotine. That explained his overwhelming buzz, not that he had complained about it. It did feel rather... dangerous.
However, his thoughts returned to Sunny. He lead him underneath the bar and down a stairwell to a tunnel dug by those who opposed the prohibition. Then through the city’s sewer system and back up into the city streets. And Sunny did not come back up with him. Had he stayed down there in the darkness and the stench? No, he must have returned back to Sam’s Bar through the way they came. But why? Why didn’t he just follow Mark up the ladder and through the city and back to the bar? Because...
Because he has a talent and some people call him a prophet.
Mark had to go back to Sam’s Bar and talk to the old bartender. He had to find Sunny and get some answers. He was hoping to hear some, after all it was either that or he was gong crazy. And he felt that way ever since he crawled out of the man hole. He needed Sunny. He needed him now more than ever.
It was six-thirty when he left for Sam’s Bar. The sun had gone and the traffic was horrible. It took him forty five minutes to drive just a few blocks down the street. And there it was- Sam’s Bar. A red neon sign read, OPEN. Mark smiled. Surely the old bartender would be there serving drinks, pretzels and discussing football scores with the local patrons.
Mark parked his car in the not so crowded parking lot in the back and made his way inside the bar. The lights were dim. He remembered what the bar smelled like when he had first walked into the place. It smelled almost the same, but there was one more ingredient- burnt tobacco. And it wasn’t just a hint of an odor either. The smell reeked. It was all over the place and on everything. The air was filled with it and Mark had to wave his hand in front of his face to break the thick, swirling smoke apart.
People who sat at the bar eyed Mark suspiciously. Mark let out a small, thin smile and they returned to their beers, and to their uninteresting conversations about football, hockey and scantly dressed cheerleaders. Mark swallowed hard and crept closer to the bar. At first he saw no one behind it and a wave of panic rippled through his body but quickly subsided as he caught sight of the sheriff. Mark exhaled deeply and wiped the sweat from his face, and deep, down inside he was so overjoyed he wanted to do cart-wheels.
Mark smiled and said to the old bartender, "Hey, sheriff. Do you know when Sunny will be around?"
The old bartender looked to his left and to his right and asked, "Do I know you?"
Mark’s mouth went dry. He gave a stutter and said, "Ugh, yeah. It’s Mark. You introduced me to Sunny yesterday. Remember, about the smoking thing?"
The old bartender’s eyes lit up immediately. "Ohh! Yeah, okay. I can see why you’re confused now. Shit, you had me there for a minute."
Mark dropped his smile and scooted closer. "Look. I really need to find Sunny. I need answers you know. This place... is not the same as-"
"As where you left," the old bartender interrupted.
"This doesn’t make any sense."
"No," said the old bartender. "It makes perfect sense. You just need Sunny to explain it all to you. Hell, I’d do it myself but I only know so much. Sunny knows about all of it. And how it started."
"Started?" Mark asked in a harsh whisper.
"Look. Sunny should be here in about an hour. Why don’t you have a seat and kick back with us for a while. You’d get to know us and hey, you might even like us." The old bartender gave out a little laugh.
Mark didn’t like this laugh. It sounded maddening to him, but he sat down on a stool anyway.
"So you’re name is Mark, isn’t it?" The old bartender asked as he continued to wipe down the beer glasses.
"Ugh, yeah. And you’re still the sheriff, right?"
"Yep, that’s what folks here call me. It’s because-"
"Because you decided to quit and become a bartender. Yeah I know," Mark interrupted.
The old bartender nodded his head no and said, "Sorry, nope. I was wounded. Gun shot to the leg." He slapped his thigh as he gave another smile and continued, "My career after that was history, and so I retired as sheriff and became a bartender here."
"Hmm, you’re not by any chance pulling my leg, aren’t you?"
The old bartender suddenly stopped what he was doing. His smile was replaced with a hardened frown, and his rigid eyes glared down on him like two smoking gun barrels. Mark slunk back and looked down at the small bowl of beer nuts in front of him.
"Look here," said the old bartender. "I don’t mix bull with shit, hear me? I’m not fucking around. Now you can either get the flying fuck out of my bar, or you can wait here quietly for Sunny. Do you understand me, Mark?"
Mark eyed him for a moment then relaxed. He couldn’t believe he was getting chewed out by this crazy, old bartender. But he needed the answers and indeed Sunny was the only one who could give them to him. "Look sheriff," he said with his right hand extended outward. "I didn’t mean to be rude-"
"I know, I know. It’s just you’ve gotta change your attitude, got me? I wouldn’t hesitate a fucking second to slam my fist in your face," the old bartender said with an incisive voice as he shook Mark‘s hand.
Mark leaned back a little further and uttered, "Hey, no problem, man. Didn’t mean to offend anyone." He then brought out his pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket, took one out and laid the pack on the counter top next to the dish of beer nuts.
"Ah, I see you’ve bought a pack. How do you like them?" The old bartender asked.
Marked flicked his lighter, lit the cigarette and answered, "They’re one hundred and five percent nicotine. How can’t I like them." He smiled.
The old bartender smiled back and took out his own cigarettes and lit one. "Ahh, tastes like synthetic leather against naked, teenage sluts."
Mark raised his eyebrows and reframed himself from saying a word.
A half hour passed before Sunny stepped into the bar. His wooden cane clunk and slid across the hardwood floor as he made his way toward the table behind Mark. His hat was black with an oversized rim that was folded on one side. On the other side a giant, red feather stuck out and swayed lazily in the smoky air. His 70’s style suit was black, and his scarf was bright red. He smiled at a waitress and she rushed to his table and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.
Mark cleared his throat and thought maybe this whole idea was a mistake. But he needed answers. It was as if he left one world and entered into some unknown parallel universe where smoking was legal, and by the looks of it highly recommended. A world where all of society was based on tobacco and nicotine.
"That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?" Sunny said to Mark with a flashy smile and shining, gold tooth. "A world where tobacco isn’t outlawed. A world where you can light up a cigarette where you damn well please."
Mark stood up from his stool and sat down at the table across from Sunny then said, "What in the hell did you do to me?"
"Look, man," said Sunny. "I ain’t done nothing to you. You were the one who wanted to change the world. Well the world ain’t gonna do it for you, so I brought you here. Now look. Look at all of these patrons, Mark. They were all complaining to me about the same thing. And so I brought them here. And you know what, Mark. They love it here. They love it."
Mark turned toward the crowd of people at the bar. The crowd smiled at him and waved back. He quickly looked away and hissed, "Well I don’t. Bring me back home at once."
Sunny chuckled arrogantly and replied, "I can’t bring you back, Jack. The deal’s already done." He then brought out a cigar and lit it. "There is not a damn thing I can do for you."
Mark stared at Sunny, trying to figure out what he should say next or do next, but his mind remained blank.
Sunny blew smoke into Mark‘s face then said, "Look. It doesn’t seem like you appreciate my little favor. That offends me you know. I’m hurt."
Mark laid his face down in his hands then peered back up at Sunny and uttered, "This isn’t what you said you were going to do, damn it."
"What? You expected me to do something like change the smoking laws, did you? Do I look like a senator to you. God, please." Sunny took off his hat and continued, "Now, now. Look at the sheriff over there. Before he came here he was unhappy and miserable just like you. They were banning smoking left and right until he was finally fed up. And the same man in this world was deathly ill. If he had stayed here any longer he would have been dead in a matter of days. And now look, I made them both happy. One little switch-a-roo and everything is as good as new." Sunny snapped his fingers as he said this.
"No," said Mark. No, it was a mistake. I wanna go back."
"Sorry, no can do."
"My wife... my son... I can’t live without them!" Mark cried.
"Pipe down, man. You’ll disturb the customers. Now look, your wife and kid are perfectly fine. They’re alive and well, healthy as they can be anyway. You know, you’ll just have to get used to it. Everyone else here has," Sunny assured.
Mark sat there quite for a moment, then he whispered, "What if I quit? Huh?"
"Heh," said Sunny. "Have you seen all the cameras in this city? They watch you. They monitor you. If you quit smoking then you’re outta here."
"You mean you’re arrested?" Mark asked with a frightened tone in his voice.
"No, not arrested. You’re just never seen again... ever," Sunny uttered and grinned.
"This is bullshit," Mark whispered. "This... this cannot be happening."
Sunny exhaled smoke and replied, "Denial is the first sign, my friend. You’re just gonna have to accept... this."
Mark stood up, rushed toward the bar then stopped halfway. He slowly turned back to Sunny and asked, "If what you say is true, then where is the other me? The other Mark?"
Sunny gave out another chuckle then brought the cigar to his lips and said flatly, "Mark came to me last night. He hated smoking. So I did him the same favor I did you." He then peered back at Mark with sharp eyes and said, "He’s in your world now, Mark. He’s with your wife and with your child. It’s a fair exchange don’t you think?" He laughed silently to himself as he peered down at the table top and whispered to him, "Don’t you think?"
Mark stared at Sunny for what seemed to be a long time. He felt trapped as if he were a wolf ensnared by a hunter’s trap. The bar suddenly seemed too small to him. He grasped his caller and loosened his neck tie but it was all too overwhelming. He then dashed out of the bar to his car- his heart was beating a million miles a second. He couldn’t believe what he just heard, and yet it explained everything: his wife smoking, the city’s obvious differences to his own, and the laws. Yes, the smoking laws. Mark jumped in his car and sped off. He had one idea left- to find the man hole from where he came from. That had to be it. If he could just find his way back to the broken cement tunnel then he could make it back to his own world. Of course he had no idea where he might end up. He had no clue where he was going the entire time it was so dark. The sewers ran this way and that and to Mark everything seemed so impossible. Even living in a world where he had it all was more horrible and terrifying than the one he had walked away from.
Out of habit he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Then he realized what he had done. Mark eyed the cigarette box. Stick. Stick cigarettes. He supposed in this world they really did want to stick it you. Hey, and your medical was already paid for by the same company that killed you. How convenient.
Mark laughed at himself out loud. He felt hopeless and utterly lost. There was nobody here who could help him. Not even Sunny. And now he had two choices- to find his way through the sewer system and make his way back, or go totally and completely insane. Mark laughed out loud again.
Forty-five minutes later Mark finally found a familiar intersection. He followed the street, turned left then right. And there is was, the man hole. Mark pulled over and got out. He examined the man hole cover then peered from side to side to see if there was incoming traffic heading his way. There wasn’t and so he bent down and grabbed into the sides of the lid with his fingertips and attempted to lift it, but it was too heavy. He took a few deep breathes and tried again. This time he was able to lift it about an inch, but there was no use. He wasn’t strong enough.
Mark stepped to the side of the road, trying to think of what he could use to lift the lid with. He looked over the street but there was nothing of use. He then thought about his car. Surely there would be something in the trunk. He crossed the street to his car, popped the trunk open and dug around. Then he found it- the tire iron. After checking to see if the traffic was clear, Mark returned to the man hole and dug the tire iron down into the grooves between it and the street and pulled. The lid lifted up with ease. Mark grabbed a hold of it and wheeled it to the side of the road then peered down into the man hole. There was nothing but blackness just as before.
Mark slowly climbed down into the sewer after retrieving his car flashlight. He had bought it, well the other Mark had bought it years ago, though he never actually had to use it, till now. As he reached the bottom, he shinned the flashlight around and decided to head north. He then lit a cigarette and relaxed. Just what the doctor ordered.
For two hours he waded through the murky sewer water, searching desperately for the one jagged crevasse in the wall. He smoked five more cigarettes during that time, making sure to ration them. He looked in his pack of Stick. Three more left. Mark sighed. He needed another, but he could wait five more minutes. Just five more.
Thirty minutes later he was down to one. Mark stopped to rest and before he knew it he was crying in his hands. And that was when it came to him. He was already addicted to those damn Stick cigarettes. He leaned up against the cement wall and stared blankly into the lost blackness. What was out there? His sanity? His death? Neither? He thought about his wife and son and how the other Mark, the imposter Mark, was living with them and playing with his son after work and snuggling with his wife and unborn child at night. And all the time knowing that the world he was in was not truly his own.
Mark began to sob again until he heard a splash some fifty yards up. Mark stopped and remained silent. He heard the splashing again. He slowly aimed his flashlight toward that direction and called out, "Hello? Hello?" Though he knew if it was a city worker or the police that he could be turned in and then what, killed?
You’re just never seen again... ever.
"Hello?" Mark called out again in a trembling voice. And then he saw a silhouette of a person. He or she was walking toward him. Mark stepped back a couple steps before he had recognized him. It was Sunny Daniels.
"How yah doin’ there, man?" I didn’t expect yah here so soon."
Mark walked toward him then ran, but he wasn’t sure if Sunny was here to save him or to kill him. And he noticed that Sunny was wearing the same clothes he had on last night. Had he ever left the sewer since?
"What’s happened to you, man. You look like shit," Sunny exclaimed.
"Take me back, Sunny! Take me back home!" Mark cried as he waved the flashlight in the air. "Everything’s all wrong! I wanna go back home!"
Sunny eyed him over and said dryly, "Look man, I can’t take you back. It’s a done deal. I mean, I wish I could but it doesn’t work like that."
Mark started to cry harder. Tears poured down his face like rain and his hands shook violently. "Please!" He begged. "Please take me back home!"
"Like I said, I wish I could, but I just can’t. In this world there was no prohibition. There is no crack in the wall here and there is no cement tunnel leading back into the bar. Even if I were to be able to make a crack it would just lead to a wall of dirt."
Mark’s lips trembled as he tried to talk but the words were garbled in with his crying. Saliva and snot started to run down his face.
"You’re life is up there, Mark. Your family, your job and your cigarettes. They are your community now, and you must return to them." Sunny then moved closer to the cement wall beside Mark and stepped halfway through it. "Goodbye, Mark. And good luck." He then stepped all the way through the wall and was gone.
Mark saw this. The crack was there... but he couldn’t see it! He ran to where Sunny had vanished and placed his hand on the cold, cement wall. Solid. "No!" He cried out loud as he pounded on the wall. "Help me, Sunny! Help me! Help meeeeeee!"
Mark continued to pound on the cold, cement wall, screaming out for Sunny as loud as he possibly could. During the ordeal he had fallen to his knees and right then panic struck him. His very last cigarette was in his pants pocket, now wet and ruined from the sewer water. Mark held his breath and his blood ran cold. He turned and looked into the blackness that was all around him... that engulfed him, and he cried out in stupefied horror until he finally went completely insane.

]]> Sun, 15 Aug 2010 11:28:37 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1907 How To Access The Arhive? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1906
Thanks.]]> Sat, 14 Aug 2010 20:43:41 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1906 Manchester, Uk, Smoke Meet http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1905 Hi All,

Just wondering if anyone fancied meeting for a few smokes in Manchester, UK?

I'm going to be in Manchester on September 20th - 23rd.

Say meeting on or near Canal Street?

Any one interested? I know this is a little in advance-but maybe more people will be able to meet.

Let me know if you're up for it!]]> Sat, 14 Aug 2010 01:44:27 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1905 Qualcuno In Italia? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1904 ]]> Fri, 13 Aug 2010 13:34:42 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1904 <![CDATA[Any Blackpool Guy's ?]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1902 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?act=attach&type=post&id=5224]]> Tue, 10 Aug 2010 15:32:58 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1902 Oklahoma City Cigar Daddy Bear http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1901 Mon, 09 Aug 2010 16:54:04 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1901 Phone Sex Leading To Smoke Sex http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1900
I was on this board for many years until I quit smoking on October 3, 2009. I didn't think it was possible. That said, one of my kinks has been to be forced to start smoking. I wanted this when I was young, before I started smoking in my teens, but it didn't happen. So, now that I've been quit for almost a year, I'd like to talk with any of you gents who'd like to force me to fill up my lungs once again. I'm really into all kinds of forced (non-consensual; B&D) behavior, and would enjoy phone sessions dealing with this at 773.856.6755. Let's talk about what you'll do to me, and then we'll discuss connecting IRL.

I'm posting this at 11:30pm on Friday, August 6, and heading to bed. I'd love to hear from any of you into forced smoking (to start and then to increase addiction). For me, smoke is sex, so any other type of sex is welcome as well.

Thanks!

Scott]]> Fri, 06 Aug 2010 21:29:23 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1900 Dip - Advice Needed! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1899
Picked up some dip for the first time on a trip - and I love it... but have two questions....

1) How long does it stay fresh for - am trying to make it last till I can get some more

2) How long should I keep packing it for?

Cheers

Mike]]> Fri, 06 Aug 2010 15:34:35 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1899 Any Dallas/fort Worth Area Smokers? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1897 Hot 35yo reds dude here. Hit me up. Dfwbloboy at gmail.com Thu, 05 Aug 2010 10:31:26 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1897 Brighton Pride? Training? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1896 so heading over to Brighton pride n wondering if anyone elso is goin?
Bit of a newb but would love someone over there to show me some first hand skills... Maybe even a little forced smoking?? tongue.gif wink.gif]]> Wed, 04 Aug 2010 18:31:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1896 Chainsmoking Houseboy Wanted http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1895
GWM, 42, 5'10", 155#, tan, trim/muscular, beard, in San Francisco. Relocation possible (after we get to know each other very well, of course). If interested, write me directly. Thanks, and keep smoking!]]> Mon, 02 Aug 2010 16:46:05 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1895 Hello http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1893 hello , i am new here !]]> Mon, 02 Aug 2010 01:39:14 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1893 Hot Smoking Vid http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1892 http://www.thesmokesite.com/fabianvid.html

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]]> Sun, 01 Aug 2010 23:55:46 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1892 <![CDATA[Video: "every Cigarette Smoked In Mad Men"]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1891 Disclaimer: If you didn't know that California workplace laws require that the cigarettes smoked in Mad Men be of the non-tobacco "herbal" variety, then you do now--and sorry to burst your bubble. Also, this video includes shots of women and children smoking (or trying to), depictions of illness and death that are implied to be smoking-related, and a quick shot of a character vomiting at the very end.

Whirled, a cutting-edge advertising and marketing agency that specializes in new media, released a new video titled "Every Cigarette Smoked in Mad Men" a couple of days ago. Like all of the material I've seen from Whirled, it's entertaining and very well done. I've never seen Mad Men, but watching this video it's easy to see why the show has become so well-known for its depictions of smoking.. As Whirled notes:
This video will have one of two results. This repetitious, perfunctory and seemingly pointless act of inhaling smoke may turn you off to smoking cigarettes. Or, the fact that this repetitious, perfunctory, and seemingly pointless act is carried out by such debonair, dashing human beings will make you run to your corner store and chimney down a carton before dinner. Either way, advertising works.
My own reaction was much closer to that last one they mention. wink.gif I've embedded the video below; the direct link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtMfzasLbu8...player_embedded. (And if you're interested, you can visit the Whirled website to see a lot more of their work. It's at http://www.getwhirled.com/.)

Dave


PtMfzasLbu8
]]> Wed, 28 Jul 2010 13:31:27 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1891 Technical Error Stories Archive? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1890 Tue, 27 Jul 2010 06:16:21 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1890 Cigar Fit http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1888 Sun, 25 Jul 2010 10:33:33 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1888 Las Vegas Smokeout 2011 Planned http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1887 Las Vegas SMOKEOUT 2011
Thursday March 31 to Sunday, April 3, 2011

A fun-filled uncomplicated weekend in Las Vegas for cigar studs, bikers, leathermen, bears and friends from all over the world. No rigid program to follow with lots of time for being a tourist, enjoying a show, attending events or just relaxing and having a great time! Just a 'free-flowing' weekend for everyone to enjoy Las Vegas the way to want to ... in the company of fellow studs! Come with a fun, uncomplicated attitude and let Las Vegas do its magic.
The host hotel will again be the completely remodeled four star ALEXIS PARK RESORT & VILLAS. Special discounted rates of $119.00 per standard Monarch suite per night includes 2 complimentary breakfast buffets per suite per day reserved (a $40.00 value per day). While we have blocked 500 suites for SMOKEOUT, THERE ARE ONLY 135 SMOKING ROOMS AVAILABLE ... the first 135 men who reserve rooms will receive smoking rooms. When making reservations, you MUST mention SMOKEOUT 2011 and that you request a smoking room (if any are still available). The first 135 men who reserve rooms will receive smoking rooms ... when those 135 smoking rooms have been reserved, non-smoking rooms will be assigned ... so reserve quickly! Make your room reservations NOW ... call 1-800-582-2228. With two complimentary buffet breakfasts included each day, we expect the hotel will be 'sold out' quickly.

Hope to see you there!

'Bulldog' Bob

]]> Sat, 24 Jul 2010 10:44:54 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1887 Denver Smoker http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1886 Thu, 22 Jul 2010 10:28:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1886 Smoking Jackets http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1885 The change of title is partly because its just sounds better, but also because it isn't just the silk smoking jacket but the 70s leather jacket and possibly other items from that vintage clothing shop which influence guys into becoming smokers.

I hope you enjoy

Chapter 3

Lunch was pretty abstemious since the food at the party, along with everything else, was to be strictly 70s. So as they ate seared tuna steaks with rocket salad they speculated on sausage rolls, quiche Lorraine, then they got silly – please, please would there be one of those hedgehogs made of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks.
“All that fat, wickedness.”
“You can talk, what about your Black Forest Gateaux?”
“My Gateaux will be a work of art.”

Of course, later, as he piped cream onto the kirsch soaked sponge Keith's confident prediction was justified. They'd had a great day, full of the preparations. Keith doing his thing in the kitchen, Ben mostly getting in the mood by working through his collection of CDs and talk constantly on the phone to one mate or another. Feeling it was time to get to work on their outfits, Keith wiped his hands on his apron and bundled it into the washing basket. Then he closed the lid on the enormous piece of Tupperware that was his pride and joy, not to be opened until the unveiling of the great masterpiece, and turned his attention to Ben, lounging on the leather sofa at the other end of their open plan kitchen-dining-living space. He was deep in conversation on the phone and, as usual, it looked like he'd stopped in the middle of something - changing presumably because he was dressed only in his boxers and the fringed leather jacket on. Quietly he admired unobserved for the moment. God Ben was so gorgeous, tanned, not big muscles but defined. Best he had this almost feline quality of movement, so relaxed in his body, yet animated as he laughed at something the other person had said. Then with the same unconscious animal grace Keith watched him flip open the silver cigarette case, take one and light up. What the... Instinctively he went over with a half formed idea that he should stop Ben, but as he got closer to the jacket his concern that Ben was smoking seemed to fade. After all what was it Ben had said, 'the odd cigarette doesn't matter... We might as well smoke them...' He couldn't think why his first thought had been that Ben shouldn't be smoking. Why not when he obviously enjoys it so much. Well they both did, in fact the rich smell was quite tempting. And Ben did look kind of sexy when he smoked. It didn't seem the least bit odd to Keith now he. In fact he was kind of pleased Ben was having a cigarette. Something after all they'd both enjoyed earlier. His only concern was a fond one that, typically impulsive, Ben had nothing to use as an ashtray. He looked round, picked up the little Poole nut dish from the dining table and went over to the sofa.

“Hi babe.” Ben said as an aside, lifting an arm so Keith could settle in next to him. “What... oh yeah, just Keith. Been doing his usual magic in the kitchen. It's Brian.” he explained, tapping ash into the dish. Oh Brian, that made sense. He was one of the few guys in their circle who smoked, and was completely unapologetic about it. So much so that he was forever excusing himself for lighting a cigarette while he was on the phone to you. Keith could see now how it would amuse Ben to smoke while talking to Brian. So he relaxed, enjoying the contrast of Ben's bare chest, the heavy, musky leather jacket. Till, unsettled by the length of ash growing on the end of Ben's momentarily neglected cigarette, he took it, only just catching the ash in time then, well, what the hell... He eased back against Ben as the smoke relaxed him and admired the way the sunlight picked out his exhale. As he smoked again then caught Ben's look, warm, amused and something else puzzled? No, if Ben smoked why shouldn't he... then he got it, it wasn't puzzled it was pleading. Half teasing he took another drag then, in the next lull in the phone conversation, put the cigarette to Ben's lips. Yeah, he hadn't expected that. Smiling with the warmth and the kind of intimacy of it, they shared the rest of the cigarette that way. And though it wasn't quite the fireworks it had been after breakfast it was still good. Without the crude, lust driven rush for well, the rush, he could savour smoking more. He realised he actually liked the taste, and the way it soothed his nerves while filling him with a warm tingling pleasure. Definitely seductive. Keith was a little bit sorry when it was over. Of course they could do it again sometime...

“Oh no. No. Not now.” Keith said just managing to break off the kiss with Ben who'd finally got off the phone from Brian.
“Oh come on, I want you. You think smoking could be some kind of aphrodisiac? I'm so horny.”
“You're always horny.”
“And you aren't.” Ben countered, stroking the bulge in Keith's jeans.
“Oh please, We have to get ready.”
“Well, we wouldn't want to be late.” Ben said. He went on teasing a little longer, just to let Keith know he could never resist him but then left off. They'd both been excited by the fantasy of getting to fuck David Bowie. He could wait. Just.

They were late anyway, what with spiking his hair, the make up and the nail varnish it took ages, but it was worth it. Keith's skinny body looked good as the young Bowie. Ben couldn't keep his hands off Keith's body. He wouldn't say how much the striped one leg, off one shoulder body stocking had cost but who cares. The transformation was astounding. His own rock god outfit, the loons, body hugging satin shirt, medallion, great boots and of course THE jacket wasn't as flash but he could feel, and see in Keith's eyes, that it oozed sexuality. Waiting for the taxi (to transport the precious gateaux) they sang along as the stereo blasted out 'Oh you pretty things, don't you know you're driving your mamas and papas insane. Let me make it plain. Gotta make way for homo superior.'

The benefit of arriving late was things were already going. And there was a cheese and pineapple hedgehog. And red light bulbs. Mock fishing nets with coloured glass floats. And fantastic costumes. Almost an authentic period number of clones and some scarily correct leather wear. No serious competition for Keith, except maybe Marc Bolan or one of the Freddie Mercury's. Anyway most eyes were on a glorious tanned boy in gold disco pants and roller skates. Ben and Keith both got plenty of attention.
Dan, who had organised the party with his partner Ian, had been strict, all 70's - even the drinks. So there was a great deal of Babycham, Liebfraumilch and G&T's that'd knock your head off. It was baking hot, especially on the dance floor. Ben had stripped off his shirt but wouldn't give up the jacket. Keith wasn't complaining he loved it, especially with bare flesh underneath. Their hands were all over each other till, when Keith was pressed up against him on the dance floor, bare leg wrapped round his Ben noticed a bulge that wasn't in the obvious place. With a little difficulty he led Keith off the floor.
“What?”
“Look, I think there's something in the inside pocket.”
It was definitely more of a thrill than a surprise when Ben took out pack of Benson & Hedges, and it was all gold, no warnings. Another period piece.
“Hang on there's something else.” Ben said, handing the cigarettes to Keith while he reached deep into the pocket and produced a chunky chrome Zippo lighter. In spite of the loud music and disco lights there was a kind of stillness between them as the two men shared the same thought.
“Come on.”
They headed out into the garden. Of course they didn't know it but with the jacket's influence most of the smokers, social smokers and once in a blue moon smokers had 'decided' to indulge and there were quite a few people out there. Brian waved them over.
“You'd think with all this 'authenticity' they wouldn't drive you into the outer darkness for a cigarette.” As usual he instantly in full flood, “After all in the decade taste forgot everyone smoked like chimneys.”
“Absolutely. You're looking deliciously sleazy by the way.” Brain was in a 70s porn suit – beige polyester with enormous lapels, even bigger flares, brown satin shirt and gold medallion – the effect had been considerably gayed up by matching nail varnish and drop earrings.
“No moustache then.”
“Oh please, it'd be ghastly. The day I grow facial hair you can call them to take me away.” Brain proclaimed, putting out his cigarette and making to take another.
“Here, have one of these.”
Keith was kind of startled by the way Ben held out the B&H pack, a few cigarettes sticking out in a vee. He'd been wondering how they'd get away with it – being known never to smoke – but he could see Ben was getting it just right. The best form of defence is attack.
“What's this? If you're trying to get me to smoke some kind of herbal bastard abortion of a cigarette just because its in a pretty box...”
“Perish the thought. No, these are absolutely genuine. Well, they're real cigarettes anyway. Actually they're probably from Bangkok or Kyrgyzstan or something, the little old man at the costume shop was practically giving them away, but we'd been going on about how we had to be absolutely and totally 70s and he said these were the essential accessory.”
“Oh well, if your dear little man vouches for them.” Brian teased, but took a cigarette anyway.
Ben quickly passed the pack on for Keith to take one and helped himself. For Keith it was happening in a whirl. He put it down to being drunk. How else could he account for it. A few days ago he'd have sworn he would rather appear in a turquoise shell suit than be seen smoking, but as soon as they'd found the cigarettes in Ben's jacket they'd both known there was no question they'd have a smoke as soon as. So Keith was enjoying the slick way Ben had set it up. Plus it felt slightly conspiratorial and curiously teen-aged. A bit of mildly naughty fun you would have at a party. The urge to smoke felt so natural Keith was virtually unaware of it. Consciously all he noticed was the way these cigarettes felt different, slightly thinner than the vintage ones and tighter packed and, being longer the balance was different too, the over all effect was maybe more elegant. And curiously exciting.
“Here, allow me.” The time Brian had spent suspiciously examining the cigarette had allowed Ben to get out the Zippo. Its flame was quite large and bright making the twilight seem darker as he passed it from Brian to Keith before lighting his own cigarette. Keith's initial feeling was a slight disappointment. There wasn't the easy flood of smoke he'd got used to. The taste was less intense too. With the second drag, sucking harder and longer he found he produced a decent exhale. The smoke seemed lighter, cooler but he felt the effect now. It was like a cold lager compared to the crusty old port of those unfiltered cigarettes from the silver case. Enjoyable though in its own way.
“Well fancy,” said Brian, “I never dreamed I'd see you two boys smoking. How decadent of you.”
“Deeply.” said Ben, taking a drag, his cheeks hollowing slightly Keith admiring the way he looked right smoking – went with the bad boy image of that jacket.
“Hello boys,” another friend of theirs Simon, had come over, his hand on Ben's shoulder, “How naughty of you, smoking. Can I join you?”
“Of course.”
Ben supplied him with a cigarette and light and he sat down and launched in to tell how Marc Bolan was embarrassing himself over the golden shorted boy.

Dan came out just as they'd all lit up another round of cigarettes.
“God, what are you all doing out here, its getting deserted in there.”
“Smoking obviously,” said Brian, “Though if this was really the 70s we wouldn't be freezing our touches off out here.”
“Oh come on, you know what Ian's like about that.”
Brian just rolled his eyes, they all knew it was Dan who wore the trousers, so to speak.


Next morning, as he chopped strawberries for a fruit salad to go with their muesli, Keith still couldn't quite believe how, after he'd got Dan and Ian to smoke, Brian had gone on to overturn the smoking ban, at least for the duration of the party. How all the little bowls that had served crisps, nuts and twiglets had been pressed into service as ashtrays and the rooms had acquired a fug which reminded him of his early days of going to gay pubs. How he'd welcomed it when the ban came in, but there was definitely some (possibly nostalgic) erotic charge to smoky rooms. No, Ben was right there had to be something aphrodisiac about smoking. There'd been something really hot about dancing with Ben, feeling him up close behind, his hands running up, the one with the cigarette bringing it to his mouth. Something very flirty about smoking. Nearly everyone it seemed got into it sooner or later. Well, it was just a bit of fun. Sexy fun. And how did he get to breathe it in when Ben blew smoke at his lips, following it up with a kiss. No it wasn't aphrodisiac, smoking was just sexy. And just forbidden enough to carry an edge. Like when he found Simon saying to golden-shorts-boy, 'Come on, everyone tries it sometime. Its just one cigarette'. That was way sexier than it should have been. Maybe because he knew how seductive smoking was. It wasn't going to be just one cigarette...

Jesus, Keith thought to himself, get a grip. No don't get a grip, you've got enough morning wood already. He knew the problem. After their very late night they hadn't had sex, yet, this morning. On account of being too shagged (and Keith had been thoroughly and imaginatively shagged – by Ben). Time to get the coffee on - the noise of the grinder being Ben's cue to get his arse out of bed. As he was about to do it Keith heard the door buzzer. Grabbing the entry phone he saw it was Tom. Shit, was it that late? He buzzed him in, opened their door a crack and went in to wake Ben. The room smelt of sex and, faintly, of cigarettes. Picking the smoking jacket up from the floor Keith recalled them sharing the last of the unfiltered cigarettes post-orgasmically. Pity there were no more left, he could do with one now, wake him up a bit. Hey, stop wool-gathering. Ben was kind of heaped on the bed. Keith shook his shoulder.
“Hey, come on, get up, Tom's here.”
“Wha...”
“Tom. You know. Tom. My little brother. He's here. So get yourself up and showered.”
“Oh, shit, right.” Ben rubbed a hand over his face, “Er, what time is it?”
“Half eleven.”
“Shit, right.”
“Breakfast's nearly ready. Just get a shower.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, right.”
Once he saw Ben was up and stumbling toward the wet room Keith picked up the ashtray from the bed side and just had time to dump the contents in the bin before Tom came in.
“Nice jacket bro.” Tom said with a big grin as he picked it up from the back of the sofa, and slipped it on, holding out his arms so the fringes hung down.
“Er, yeah, its Ben's.” Of course, he'd left the door open. “He's um, just getting up, its...”
“Heavy night last night?”
“Yeah. Party. Look, I was just making some coffee, if you want some.”
“Yeah, coffee would be great. And you just, you know, chill.” Tom, said, giving his brother a quick hug. He knew Keith couldn't both cook and talk, so he perched on one of the stools at the counter pretty content. He liked Keith's flat, the space. Not like all the clutter at home. He couldn't wait to move out. Far too many china figurines. Which was what the visit was about. Tom was about to start uni and Keith and Ben were going to go with him, check out the student halls and flats. The folks wanted him to stay at home, so much cheaper, but Keith had got out. Well, he knew why now, so he could be gay. Good on him. He wanted a bit of freedom too. Keith understood, well, in a general way, and since him and Ben had been students there they were going to show him round.
What Keith didn't know was one of the reasons Tom wanted to be out of their parents' eye was that he'd started smoking. He didn't imagine Keith would be all that thrilled so he'd kept it from him. Actually he'd kind of started smoking a couple of years back. At a party, naturally. Unlike the rest of the family Tom had never been that anti-smoking. He could see people enjoyed it, was naturally curious. He found it liked it so he went on with it. Just the odd cigarette or a joint at a party to start with. Or when he was out drinking with his mates. Soon he was smoking most weekends and started buying them. A few of his mates smoked and pretty soon he was smoking most days. Well, he didn't have a problem with that. It was pretty cool to hang out and smoke with them. Lately, with the pressure of exams, he'd taken to smoking more. It helped. Before he'd usually make a pack of 20 last a week, during the exams themselves he got through three a week at least. Now he'd easily smoke ten cigarettes on a night out. And know it next day. Needed one on the way to school. He knew he was getting hooked, but god, he loved those smokes in the morning. But it was a bugger sneaking. A few of his mates smoked and so he knew how strong that give away smell was, even though you couldn't smell it yourself. So, although he'd had a couple on the way to the train this morning he'd resisted the temptation to have another on the walk from the station. But now, sat in Keith's kitchen, wearing Ben's leather jacket, Tom could feel he really wanted a smoke. Especially with that coffee that was smelling so good. He realised he wasn't going to get through the day easily without smoking. Maybe it was time to bite the bullet.

“Hey Tommo, I'm loving the kind of emo thing you've got going on there.”
“It is not emo!”
“Yeah, yeah. Who cares, as long as you show off your pants. Spider-man I think?”
“Er, yeah.” Though Ben and Tom were always familiar like that Keith couldn't help being a bit embarrassed, not realising that was exactly why Ben did it. “I have to say you're looking terribly Noel Coward.”
“You like it, its Keith's. A smoking jacket. Real silk, feel it.”
“Hey, break it up you two.” Keith said, putting down coffee for all of them. As they sat there, sipping coffee, Keith's hand on Ben's thigh in a kind of proprietorial way, all three were thinking of smoking. Ben thinking it might be fun to see Tom's reaction. Keith regretting it wasn't on. Tom steeling himself for the big announcement, he was getting kind of edgy now, was wishing he could get it over with but nervous how Keith would take it. Hesitating he said, “So, big night last night.”
“Yeah, fancy dress at Dan and Ian's. 70's theme.”
“Hence the jacket?”
“Exactly.” said Ben, “Here, I've got some photos on my iPhone.”
Keith was picking at some fruit salad as the other two huddled together scrolling through the pics. Tom seemed to think it was a hoot, the trouble people went to, and had been teasing a bit but mostly appreciative. Then, in an almost shocked voice he said, “Keith, you naughty boy.”
“What?” he asked, hoping Ben hadn't caught the way his hard-on showed through those leggings.
“Is that you smoking?”
“Well, you know, it was a party.”
“Hey, no its totally cool. Just never thought I'd see it. Wish I'd been there. You smoking.”
“Why shouldn't I?”
“Oh absolutely. I totally agree.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Look, you might as well know, don't tell the folks but, I've been kind of getting into smoking myself, and well...” he brought a pack of Marlboro lights from the pocket of his jeans, “I would quite like one now. I'll go out on the balcony if you like.”
Dimly Keith was aware he should say something, but seeing that pack of cigarettes had a kind of magical effect. Maybe this could go another way.
“Don't be daft,” Ben stepped in, “It's chucking it down out there.” Well, it wasn't that bad but a summer shower had just started up. “Go on Keith, get Tom something for an ashtray.”
Slightly dazed Keith brought over the one he'd only just emptied. There was quite a bit of ash still clinging to it. A fact which didn't escape Tom's notice.
“Hello, so I'm not the first visitor you've let smoker here then?”
“Oh no, that was me and Keith.”
Keith was shocked. Ben coming out with it like that. It was quite enough coming to terms with Tom smoking. He guessed Tom must be well 'into it' to come out with it like that. It was kind of unsettling to realise he could understand, it made sense, the undercurrent of tension that suggested his brother really wanted a smoke. He recognised it because he felt something like it. And he could feel Ben was opening the way for them to smoke. He felt torn, he shouldn't but he wanted to.
“No way.” said Tom, clearly warming to the situation, “And so if I was to offer you a cigarette...” To Keith's relief he was talking to Ben.
“Well, it'd only be polite to accept, wouldn't it.”
Odd how well Ben taking a cigarette from the proffered packet fitted in to the half flirting way they had with each other.
“Here, let me.” Ben said, producing the vintage silver lighter from one of the pockets of the smoking jacket to light Tom's cigarette before lighting his own. Seeing the two of them light up, getting the scent of tobacco smoke, Keith's temptation to smoke grew sharply.
“Why don't you join us Keith?” Ben asked, meeting Keith's pleading look with a calm, reassuring glint.
“Yeah, why not?” said Tom, offering the pack with a decidedly mischievous look. After the slightest hesitation he said, “Yeah, why not.” trying, not to convincingly, to make out it was no big deal. Problem was it was with keen anticipation he accepted a light from Ben. Having accepted a couple of Marlboro lights at the party the night before instinctively he inhaled pretty deeply. The pleasure and release of tension as he exhaled was so intense he shared a look with Ben and was instantly back into the shared pleasure of smoking together. He felt uncomfortable just for a moment when he came back to him that Tom was there too.
“Well bugger me.”
Keith just shrugged.
“Hey, I'm not complaining. No way am I complaining. Just surprised, you know, you guys smoking but... this is so cool.”
And, unable to contain himself, Tom took another drag and like ninepins Ben and Keith followed.

When they went out later Ben bought a couple of packs of Marlboro lights, one to replace Tom's pack which they'd nearly finished with him. One so they wouldn't just work down the new pack so quickly. Of course, to Ben, this made perfect sense and he had no idea the fact he was wearing the leather jacket had anything to do with it. Keith though was feeling a little disturbed at how easy it was to just kind of keep on smoking. Especially around Tom. Keith wasn't surprised to find out he'd been smoking for a couple of years. You could see he was truly into it, knew how to really enjoy smoking. It was the same at the party. It had been seductive then and even in the sober light of day he hadn't been able to resist being drawn into the pleasure Ben (who had reclaimed his jacket) and Tom so obviously shared smoking together. And, partly because of it, they'd had a really good day. Except that Tom was obviously disappointed at the student accommodation. To raise his spirits they'd taken him out for dinner, then seen a film. Keith found it kind of telling how keen they'd all been to light up as soon as they got outside the cinema after. Was he the only one who found the little panel on Ben's pack of cigarettes which said, 'Smoking is highly addictive, don't start.' a little ominous? He could feel how his desire for a cigarette was getting stronger. How when they lit up one cigarette after another sat outside the bar with all the smokers and he'd inhaled that first drag there was now something more than just the nice rush, there was a warm feeling in his body, like it was getting something it wanted. If only that didn't feel so good. If only there wasn't an undercurrent of something very sexy about it, something of the forbidden, or of the feeling that cigarettes had a growing power over him. Not that there was time to brood on it, but when Tom was gone he felt he should talk to Ben about it. When the time came, and they'd put Tom on the last train he was going to say something. But then Ben put an arm over his shoulder and said, “Tom's great but I'm so glad he's gone.”
“Yeah.” and desire rose up in him, pushing everything else out of his mind. “Lets get back to bed.”
“Too right.”
As they moved off Keith saw Ben get out his cigarettes and in spite of himself wanted one.
“Bugger.”
“What?”
“Only two left.”
“So?”
“Come on, you know smoking gets you so hot. Lets get some more.”
“OK.” Keith said, after a moment.
“And how about we go for something full fat this time.”
So, with a red and white pack of Marlboro in Ben's pocket and smoking the last of the lights they headed back for home.]]> Thu, 22 Jul 2010 09:16:24 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1885 Triangle Nc Area Smoker http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1884 Anyone in the Triangle NC region? Looking to meet up with other smokers for some fun! Tue, 20 Jul 2010 20:28:38 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1884 Hot New Buzz! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1883 Guys.... I tried something pretty fuckin mind blowing.... I filled my upper cheeks with 6 packets of Marlboro Green Snus and lit up my marlb red and boy oh boy does the buzz make for great jack off fun... WOW.... Tried it with the gar and pipe too... WOW.... So fuckin hot... I blew like 3 times doing this in a row... RAWR!!!1 Tue, 20 Jul 2010 05:05:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1883 London This Week http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1882 Anyone in London wanting to meet up this week and maybe smoke more than we probably should? Mon, 19 Jul 2010 11:39:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1882 San Francisco Smokers? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1881
Cigar and cig smoking cub here. Traveling to San Francisco at the end of the month (arriving July 24).

Any recommendations? Anyone up for hanging out? Up for some gars and beer on a patio.
]]> Mon, 19 Jul 2010 00:41:53 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1881 Red http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1880 He woke up the morning of his first day on the job ready and existed to start, The office had called his cell phone the night before asking him to come in for some training on the Friday he was due to start He showered, styled his hair, and put on his best suite and tie. Mark got into his care and out in the address that they had told him over the phone into his GPS and set off to start work.

When Mark arrived at the office there were about ten guys wearing jeans and tank tops all smoking. When mark pulled into a parking spot he noticed his was the only car everyone else had big trucks. He got out and grabbed his briefcase, then started towards the door. When he past by the guys outside smoking he gave them a bit of a dirty look. He walked up to the receptionist and said he was here to start work. She gives a bit of a chuckle and pushed a button on the phone and said a young man was here to see him. Then a few minutes later a large man wearing the same as all the other guys jeans and a tank top, the large man was also covered with many tattoos, and strangely Mark was attracted to the man. he was not normally attracted to big hairy tattooed men, but for some reason mark was attracted to him. The Man laugh a little when he sees mark standing there in a expensive suite. “What ya doin in dat monkey suite kid” asked the man mark assumed was his boss. “ Um arnt I suppose to wear a suite for the office job im mark you called me for to come in today” replied mark. The man laughed again and walked over to Mark “your in for a rude awakening boy “ the man says patting mark hard on the back “ im Dave your boss kid”. Mark looks a little scared and felt sick to his stomach part from the shock, part from the hard pats on his back, and part from the reek of smoke coming off Dave.

Dave walked back to his office. He returned a few minutes later carrying a white wife beater and a pair of old ripped jeans and handed them to mark. “here kid put these on don’t want you to fuck up that monkey suite ya got on.” Mark went to the bathroom and changed into his new cloths they reeked of smoke just like his new boss. Dave them took Mark outside where all the guys where smoking and announced “Guys this is Dave he will be joining you on the worksite today” then he motioned to a man, he was at lest 6’4”, huge muscles, Scruffy face, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “ This is Ricky he will watch out for ya Marky boy”. Mark forced a smile on his face to Ricky.
Ricky did not say a word to Mark, they just walked over to his truck and Mark climbed into the passenger side seat. As soon as they pulled away, without rolling down the window Ricky lit another cigarette, then offered mark the pack Mark started to cough. “no thanks don’t smoke but ah can ya at lest role down the window please” asked mark. Ricky just laughed and continued to puff on his cigarette hanging from his mouth. When they finally reached the work site Mark got out of the truck as fast as possible and breathed in fresh air. Ricky had Mark digging a hole in the ground. The entire time mark was digging whenever he looked at lest half of the guys had a cigarette hanging from their mouth.
When the day was over Ricky came over to Mark “Hey kid want to come for a beer its tradition for the Mentor to buy the new kid a beer after his first day.” Mark just laughed “um no thanks don’t really drink” Ricky replied “ow come on kido one beer wont hurt ya.” Mark shook his head then finally after a few minutes agreed to come for one beer. They climbed into his truck and just like before Ricky lit a cigarette then offered Mark one “come on kid a smoke always tastes good after a hard days work.” Mark replied, “I don’t smoke man and I wont start but thanks again.” They sat in silence the rest of they way to the bar. They went in and Ricky motioned to a table in the back. Mark went and sat down. He looked around and saw a lot of the guys from work sitting around drinking their beers. Ricky came back looked at the beers carefully then handed Mark one of the bottle. Mark didn’t think anything of the strange activity by Ricky. Mark drank his beer. “ow man this beer is hitting me hard” Mark says as he rubs his for head. Ricky laughs and replies, “real light weight arnt ya kid?” Mark just nods “you want to call me a cab Ricky?” Ricky laughs and says “naw Mark ill give ya a ride home” he stumbles out of the bar and climbed into Ricky’s Truck , and as soon as Mark hits the seat he is passed out.

A few hours later mark woke up. He was completely naked and bound to a metal chair. The room was completely dark, and Mark could not even tell if his eyes where open or closed. Then suddenly Mark saw a lighter spark up and brought up to light a cigarette. He could tell it was a man because he could see the scruff on his face. Then it was dark again except for the burning ember on the end of the cigarette that Mark could tell was hanging from his mouth. Then suddenly the lights turned on, it was blinding. Finally when Marks eyes had adjusted to the light he looked around. And discovered that it was Ricky standing. Mark yells out “What’s going on Ricky why am I here”. Ricky just laughed and replied, “ You don’t fit in kid we gota fix that problem.” Mark was scared, and has no idea what was going to happen to him.
Mark began to struggle from the ropes tied tightly around his ankles and wrists. Ricky then snubs out his cigarette on the floor and pulls out a new one, but it was different then his usual ones. The smoke coming from it seemed to have a Reddish hue to it, and the smell it did not bother him as much. Ricky takes a long deep drag on the strange cigarette, then without a word Ricky grabs Marks head puts his mouth on Marks. He them pumped Marks lungs full of the thick reddish smoke. As soon as the smoke hit Marks lungs the nicotine began to flow though his body. His cock hardened, his head started spinning. All this happened within a matter of seconds. Mark blew the smoke out in a thin stream, as his no longer perfect pink lungs absorbed most of the tar. The felling slowly disappeared “what the hell was that Ricky” mark asked. Ricky just smiled “you liked it didn’t you kid” he takes a drag and inhales it with a snap inhale. “You want some more kid?” Ricky asks as he holds out the cigarette. Mark is about to reject it but for some reason he really wanted to feel that nicotine in his body again. Ricky placed the cigarette between Marks lips. He takes a drag on it and that same great feeling hits him. He keep smoking tell the cigarette was done. But then Ricky took the butt out of Marks mouth the horny feeling and hard cock didn’t go away this time. “Looks like someone’s a little horny” Ricky says was he reaches down and starts to play with Marks cock. Mark lets out a low moan as he does. Ricky reaches into his pockets and places the pack of Marlboro Reds on the side table beside Mark, then preceded to take off all of his clothing. Then when all of his clothing was off Ricky begins to untie Marks arms. Mark rubbed his own shoulders, as he was doing that Ricky without a word start blowing Mark’s cock. It was the one of the best feelings Mark had ever felt in his life, but some how Mark knew that it could get even better. Without even thinking Mark reached over to the pack of cigarettes took one out and lit it up. He sat there smoking the cigarette and getting the best blow Job he had ever had. As he was about finished his cigarette he could feel his cock about too blow its load. As Mark took the last drag as soon hit his lungs his cock exploded like it had never exploded before. Filling Ricky’s mouth full of that sweet cum. Ricky proceeded to swallow ever ounce of cum that Mark shot out. Mark leaned back coming down from his orgasm, When suddenly he felt a cold cloth come over his mouth and nose. He was out again.

The next morning mark wakes up and looks around. He was back in his apartment. He looked around everything seemed just as it should be, except the pack of Marlboro reds, Zippo lighter, and Ashtray on his side table. He started to think about how amazing that orgasm was when he lit up. He sat here for a few moments but it was as if the pack of cigarettes was talking to him. He was feeling as if he had to have one, and the pack was yelling at him now. He could not resist the yelling anymore, so he grabbed the pack took one out and lit it up, and His cock instantly hard again. After chaining 5 cigarettes he blows his load and it felt just as good as the one last night.
He cleaned himself off then got into the shower. Then he got out he went to his closet to pick out some clothing to wear, but all there was suites. Mark didn’t want to wear a suite he was thinking about how comfortable the jeans and wife beater was at work the other day. He finally found a pair of old jogging pants and a undershirt to wear. he just got dressed didn’t bother to shave or style his hair. He just left the apartment.

Mark Claimed into his car, and started it up. He pulled out of the parking lot , and he pulled up to a red light. He Looking around, and he happened to see a guy sitting in his truck window rolled down cigarette hanging from his mouth. Suddenly Mark realized he needed a cigarette not just wanted one but Had to have one. He scrambled around trying to find his pack of smokes, only to realize he left them at home. He looks around and there happens to be a gas station to his left. Mark makes a harsh turn and pulls into to the parking lot. Leaped out of his car, and runs into the store. He did not even care if he knew anyone in the store he just desperately needed nicotine. He was standing in the line and looking at all the different brands to choose from. He decided on Marlboro reds just like his first pack but he also noticed tins of tobacco. Mark asked what they where. The clerk told him it was chewing tobacco, Mark decided to get a tin of that as well. He stepped out of the store and lit up a cigarette. He tilted his head back and exhaled to smoke all the nerves disappeared.

Mark returned to his car, and drove to the local thrift shop. He bought well warn jeans, flannel shirts, and other white shirts. He returned home, cock raging as he smoked. When he get back to his apartment, Mark sat down on his couch and looked at the tin of chewing tobacco. He finally cracked open to tin and he took a pinch out placing it between his lower lip and gums. As soon as that nicotine hit his blood stream his cock stiffed as hard as he thought possible. He pulled off all his clothing, and starts to stroke his cock. His mouth was filling with nicotine-laced saliva, and make spits out some onto his cock. This just made his cock go insane. It did not take long before his load was sprayed with his own hot creamy cum. If that was not proof to him that his was what he should be then he had no idea what he should be. He just sat back still naked, a lip full of tobacco, and now a red dangling from his mouth.

Mark woke up the next morning. The first thing he did was light up another red and got up and got in the shower. He got dressed putting on jeans and a flannel shirt. He left his face unshaven for the seconded day. He claimed into his car and drove to work. He walked right up to the group of guys standing outside smoking and lit up his smoke. The men welcomed him in as if he had been like that his whole life.
]]> Sat, 17 Jul 2010 22:24:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1880 Lodon: August 10th-12th http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1879
I'm visiting London on August 10th to the 12th (2010) and i'm looking for a hookup with a hot, heavy smoker. I'm 24, smoke Reds 2ppd+ and occasionally (1-2 a week) smoke cigars. body type is stocky/chubby/fat whatever. Kinda hairy too Into loads. only limit is bare, blood and scat. the rest is fair game

Ideal hook up: 40+, like older guys. must be able to accom (don't worry i wont stay the night), heavy smoker+, cigar smoker++, leather/skin+++

if interested, message me here or email me (or add on msn) at marcoreilly@live.ie]]> Wed, 14 Jul 2010 22:04:27 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1879 Found A New Smoking Video http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1878
I was cruising around the internet and I came across a new smoking video so i thought I'd share the link with all of you who want some smoking porn DVD's. I only ordered it today and when i get it I will post my review.

To order the movie, to watch online or to see some previews or snapshots go to:

www.gayrealityporn.com

Either click on the fetish category or type in the title of the movie in the search box

MOVIE TITLE: Hot Smokin' Men


I've attached the DVD cover so you can take a look
]]> Wed, 14 Jul 2010 14:07:00 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1878 Blood Lines Part 3 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1877
I stood up, looked down at myself and my first thought was “clothes.” I need fucking clothes!
I spun around, pulled on a pair of jeans, fell over backwards while hopping on one foot, slid both legs through and stood up.

“On my way,” Mike had said... that gave me about 15 minutes if he drove slow.
Fuck!

I looked around and the place was an utter wreck. Found a pile of blood soaked towels in the corner (where the hell did those come from?), grabbed ‘em, shoved them under the sink, did another wild ass spin and forced myself to slow down.
This was nuts, and I was acting like a fucking idiot.
Grabbed another smoke, chained it halfway down, grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and pulled it on while exhaling.
Cupped the half done smoke in my right hand and reached for the near finished beer while wiping more sweat from my brow.
Polished off the beer, chucked it in the sink (hell, at this point, what’s an empty beer can sitting in the sink gonna matter??). Pulled the smoke up for a final drag and felt something drip down my arm.

And I swear, this happened in the most absolute slow motion you can imagine.
I lifted up my right hand still holding the cigarette, focused and watched a steady stream of blood slide down from the scar next to my smoke and ever so slowly wind it’s way down my forearm and begin splattering on the kitchen table like something you’d see in a bad horror movie.

I dropped the smoke and it sizzled on on the blood filled table.
Grabbled my hand underneath my left armpit.
Stepped back a few paces until I hit the wall and just stood there. Absolutely and completely dumbfounded.
And I watched with a twisted amazement as the blood on the table flowed and did a complete, untouching circle around the pack of Marlboros. Then it (the blood, in case yer not keeping up, ‘cause I sure as hell wasn’t) pulled back into a single, almost pulsing blob, and began to reform into a new shape.
It swirled, moved (and kid you not), fucking rose upwards from the table as it took on a new form.
Not that I really had anywhere to friggin run to, but I just stood there and watched as the hair’s on my neck rose.
It muddled for a few moments and then locked itself into a fucking 3-D form.
One that was the exact same form as the scar on my hand.

How long I stood there, I’ve no idea. I don’t think there’s a real good time measurement for “weird shit beyond hell.”

And yes, total dumbass move you think you’d never do, I leaned forward and touched it with my left hand.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder, they did.

The shit slid up onto my arm in a heartbeat.
It was cold like ice and I felt it move it’s way up my arm, past my shoulder blade and into my chest.
And like the ice cold of it, I was damn frozen in place, my heart pounding a million miles a second.
What the fuck???

I took a deep breath and then it hit me.
My dick.
Instant, throbbing boner. And one that wasn’t going to wait for release.

I suddenly remember hot little Craig there, still unconscious from getting his fucking head clocked by me earlier. Fucking buck naked with an ass that was screaming for my needs.

I grabbed a smoke, lit it up, pushed him over so I could get full access and licked that juicy ass for all it was worth.
Took another deep drag, spread his cheeks and filled him with my smoke.
Took another drag, tossed the smoke into one of the empty beer bottles from earlier, did a quick grab of some lube from the nightstand and started pounding his hot ass.
It was mean.
It was nasty.
And was exactly what I wanted.

I pulled his head up just enough to suck and bite on his neck so it’d leave a serious mark for everyone to see that this man was mine.

A few minutes of pounding and he stired awake.

I just slammed him harder with one of the biggest, raging hard on’s I’d ever had.
He finally pulled himself together enough to lean up and back his ass into me.

“About damn time,” he grunted.

“Shut up...” I replied, “I got something for you.”

“I think it’s returning the favor,” he said.

I slammed into him harder and he groaned again, holding himself up against the wall with his hands.
“I do recall...” as I pounded harder, “telling you to shut the fuck up.”

And he did.
And a huge part of my brain was saying “what in the hell are you doing??? This isn’t you.”

Fuck that.
This wasn’t sex. This was me dominating this hot fucker.

And when I came inside his hot little ass, it was like nothing I’d ever felt. I didn’t just cum. I FILLED him. Over and over and over.
And when I was fully spent, I pulled out fully, selfishly satisfied.

I rolled back, looked over at him still pushed up against the wall and felt completely, unbelievably awesome.

Leaned over, grabbed a smoke, leaned back to watch him slowly slide backwards, exhaled a thick stream and smiled to myself.

Craig turned around, looked at me without any surprise on his face at all, wiped his suddenly bloody hand on his chest and grinned.

“Welcome to the fold, Tate” he said. “Took yer own damn sweet time about it.”]]> Tue, 13 Jul 2010 15:06:51 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1877 Blood Lines Part 2 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1876 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2


I sat there, bare-ass naked, in front of a guy I’d met only hours ago, holding a handkerchief containing a pack of Marlboro’s and a silver Zippo lighter.

And suddenly my brain figured it was time to play a game of catch-up.
I grabbed the open pack of smokes next to my bed, unconsciously sparked it with the Zippo in my lap, took a much needed, deep inhale and looked around.

What in the fuck had happened?
My clothes were spread all over the floor, there was blood splattered all over my table (and my hand... when did that happen??). And the place smelled like a damn bar on chain-smoker night.
I took another drag, flicked my ashes into a cup, cornered my smoke to the side of my mouth, leaned back and pulled open the window behind the bed.
Took another drag, bent over, gabbed my boxer’s from the floor, stood up and grabbed one of the two beers left on the table.
Warm, of course.
Fuck it I said to myself as I pulled another drag, cracked open the beer and looked around for my damn ashtrays.
Shit. Great sex and all, but this day has been one pissy thing after another.
Took another drag, dumped the nearly spent smoke into an empty beer bottle, took a couple more swigs from the full one in my hand and looked at my watch.
10:30! That’s just fuckin great. I’ve gotta be at work in less than 6 hours.
I pulled my hair back with a frustrated scalp massage. Wiped my sweaty face and marched into the kitchen for a towel and some cleaner for all this damn blood.

Seriously, what the fuck?!
Grabbed a towel and some cleaner and realized my entire right hand was covered in blood too.
Fuck. This was really starting to piss me off royally.
Washed my hands, realized when I’d wiped my face I’d gotten blood smears all over it two.
Just friggin’ great.
Washed my face, grabbed another clean towel (more laundry that won’t likely ever come clean) and walked back to the kitchen table.
Took a deep breath, grabbed the beer I’d left sitting there, swilled it empty and sighed.
This has been one unbelievably shitty day, I thought to myself.
Went to grab another smoke from the pack by my bed and it was empty.
Great. Just fucking great.
Grabbed the fresh pack on the bed, ripped it open, pulled out a smoke, lit up and took a deep breath. Then I reached across to the kitchen table, cracked open the last beer, took a couple of swigs and exhaled thick jets of smoke from my nose.
Fuck, now I knew why Mike did that when he was so pissed off.
And where the hell were the ashtrays??

I leaned over, grabbed a semi-clean bowel, took another drag and set my smoke down on it.
And then again looked at the table.
Shit, what a bloody mess. And I mean that literally.
What in fuck had happened?

Grabbed the bottle of cleaner, took another drag off my smoke, set it back into the make-shift ashtray, looked back for the towel I’d brought out and about had a damn heart attack.

“Hey bud. You forget me?”
It was Craig, still sitting on the floor, buck naked and grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat.

And my brain did yet another serious “rewind.” Only this time, it was in slow motion, and hurt like hell.
Dropped the beer. Dropped the cleaning bottle and fell flat ass backwards.
Lights out.
No one is home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*SMACK* up against my face.
“Hey, Tate, you still with me bud?”

I didn’t even open my eyes but clocked that fucker straight on with a right hook and heard his head bounce off the wall.

Son of a bitch.
I rubbed my forehead, which was just pounding like you wouldn’t believe and half laughed to myself that maybe I should have done drugs back in college. Likely a lot more fun than this.

Rolled over and rubbed my ass, which was hurting like hell.
Slumped forward off the bed, did yet another head shake to clear the cobwebs and recalled regretting not doing drugs in college.
Half laughed to myself. Yup, that was likely a serious mistake.
Got up, took a much needed piss, looked out the window and marveled at the gorgeous day it was. If I hadn’t felt like such shit, it would have been much more appreciated.
Slid into the seat next to the kitchen table, did a quick ball scratch, grabbed a smoke, lit up with my Zippo, held it, leaned back and slowly exhaled.

Damn, I needed some food.
Took another drag, set my smoke into the ashtray and wandered back to the fridge.
Scrambled eggs sounded good. Maybe some bacon as well.
Pulled out the frying pan, half-ass dumped everything together at once, turned on the stove to a safe medium setting and yawned.
Coffee sounded real good too. Half a pot left from yesterday, which was fine by me. Poured a cold cup, rubbed my ass again and slid back to the kitchen table.
Reached for my cigarette, but it’d burned down so I grabbed another from the pack.

Need to hit the store later and pick up some extra smokes, I thought to myself while lighting up.
Chugged down a cold cup of coffee (not that bad for day old), grabbed another one from the kitchen and sat back down.

Fuck this... who cares how early it is. A beer sounds real good right now, I thought as I went to the fridge and grabbed a nice cold Bud Light.

Sat back down, cracked open the beer, finished my smoke and snuffed it out.
Lit up another one, took a nice, cool sip of the beer, rubbed my ass again (what the hell? I fall off one of the horses and don’t remember it?).
Took another long, slow drag, held it in, laid back and exhaled the pressure.

And that’s when my dumb-ass brain decided to click back into gear.
I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Boxers... I distinctly remember pulling on boxers.
I did a quick look down (duh), put both hands on the table, took another swig of beer, took a deep breath followed by an extremely long drag on my smoke and probably took the longest, deepest exhales of my life.

I sat back, relaxed, snuffed out my smoke and waited for my heart to stop pounding so hard.

Yer not insane, I said to myself. There’s a perfectly great explanation for this. You just forget taking off yer shorts... big deal.
And doesn’t that cooking bacon smell fantastic??

OK, I’d gone back to normal la-la land. And damn, that bacon did smell great.
Swigged down a bit more beer. Lit up another smoke, relaxed as best I could.
Did I mention? Weird fucking day?

Scratched my ass again, did a quick look at the table (no blood). Only thing weird was my hand. It hurt like hell.
And there it was, the scar.

Oh fuck me, I thought. You dreamed everything else. while in the hell is that still there?

And then the cell rang.
Took the last drag off my smoke, grabbed the phone, hit “talk” and it was Mike.

“Hey kiddo.” he said. “How you doing?”

“Um... fine Mike. (why was he calling me on a weekend? I thought.) You need some overtime help today?” I asked.

“Tate, it’s only Wednesday. You know I ain’t paying you overtime for regular hours,” he replied, and there was a bit of an amusement in his voice. “Just calling to check up on ya.”

I looked again at my watch and shit, it was only Wednesday. And it was 5:30pm!

“Shit Mike,” and I stopped myself... I don’t usually swear around Mike. “Hey, I think I’ve got some kinda bug or something. Really been outta sorts.
I missed work today, didn’t I?”

“Yeh son, you did.” he replied, and again there was a sort of amused tone to his voice. “Don’t make a habit of it. And it wasn’t just today... you been MIA the past two days. Good thing for you Craig called in for ya.
How’s the hand? It looked pretty nasty. I figured you’d got knocked up with some serious bug.”

Craig? I thought to myself.
Holy shit!
I looked over at the bed and there he was, slumped over like a rag doll. I seriously did fucking clock the guy.

“You there son?” came Mike.

“Um.. yeah. Sorry. Evidently a bit still outta it,” I replied.

I slammed what was left of my beer, lit up a fresh smoke and started sweating.
I had absolutely no idea how to cover my ass on this one.

“I’m heading over,” he said on the other end of the cell. “I’ll bring some beer and you and I still need to have a serious talk.”

I looked over at Craig, out cold on my bed, and felt beads of sweat forming.

“Um, now’s not a real good time Mike. I’m still not feeling up to snuff.” I lied through my teeth.

“Bullshit son. I’m on my way.” he barked. “You need anything else from the store?”

“Mike, seriously, I’m not terribly in the mood for company,” I replied.

“Yeah... tough shit. Put Craig on the phone.” he says as I’m looking at an adorable but completely unconscious man on my bed.

“Craig?” I kinda sputtered ‘cause I’m a terrible liar. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

There was a deadly pause, and then from Craig’s pants on the floor came an extremely loud ringing.

Fuck.

“Not there huh?” came Mike’s voice. “Sure as hell sounds like his cell ring tone to me.
Like I said, I’m coming over with some beers and we’re gonna have a serious talk.
You want anything else from the store while I grab the beers?”

“Uh, yeah, a pack of smokes. I’ll pay you back for the beer and cigs when you get here,” I replied without even thinking about what I’d just said.

And there was an uncomfortably long silence on the other side of the phone after I’d spoke. Followed by a genuine laugh.

“You got it son. See you in a few. And if you don’t have aspirin, I’ll bring some of that as well... figuring Craig’s gonna need it if I’m reading things right.” And he hung up.

Shit, this was so fucked up.
]]> Mon, 12 Jul 2010 17:31:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1876 The Little Things http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1875 Mon, 12 Jul 2010 13:19:46 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1875 Blood Lines http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1874 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck... what a long day in the fields. Got my ass outta bed at 4am (hit the snooze button too many times), scrambled for some coffee and headed off the to farm. I was tired, hungry and surely not in the mood for hauling pipe in what turned out to be 90 degree temps. Fields needed watering before they sun scorched, so not much to say about that.
Made it through to lunch with my head slumped against a hay bail. Told my boss, Mike (one of my oldest and best friends to “fuck off”), he laughed and said “one of those days, eh kid?” Not sure why, but yeah, not a great day. We all have ‘em.
Mike’s known me since I was in my 20’s. And was of the few friends who didn’t blink an inch when I figured out I was gay and told folks. Think his words were something like “Huh... well don’t expect me to give you a pay raise because of sexual orientation.”
*chuckle* I still laugh at that. The man really didn’t give a rat’s ass, which kinda took me by surprise given he’s 58.
I’m rambling. Sorry. Tend to do that from time to time. Oh, and my name’s Tate. And not as in “tatter tot”... what the hell were my parents thinking when they named me?

So Mike sits himself down on a bail across from me, tosses me an MGD and gives me the look. You know, the look you get from your parents when they know something’s pricking away at ya and they wanna find out.
I take the beer, swill half of it in a couple gulps and take a deep breath.
Looks like that from Mike don’t come without a price.

“Alrighty Tate,” he says. “What’s on yer mind?”

Saw that coming a mile away.

“Hell boy, you look like shit warmed over,” he continues (not one to mince words, that man).
“Sex or money?” he asks while looking me straight in the face. “Come on kid... no offense, but you ain’t real complicated. Sex or money?”

And son of a bitch if I don’t hate talks like that from him. Both my folks are gone and he’s the one last person who knows me well enough to peg me when I’m not in my straight mind.

I take another swig of beer, kick off some straw from the barn floor and avoid eye contact.

“You in there son?” he asks while finishing his beer. “Hello? Earth to Tate.”

I seriously don’t know what was pecking at my brain, and I sure as hell didn’t wanna discuss it. So, I kick around some more hay, finish my beer, chuck it into the trash can and get up to leave.

That was a huge mistake.

“NATHANAL WALKER JOHN!!” I hear from the barn. “I’m talking to you and you better not walk your sorry ass outta here without answering me!!”

That kinda tone and words really stops you dead in your tracks. So I slugged around, looked Mike square in the face... and said absolutely nothing.

Is there such a thing as “pissed off in a loving way?” That’s how he looked.
He glared me down, pulled out a Marlboro from his front pocket, sparked it up with his zippo, blew smoke at the floor and shook his head.
And I knew I was in serious deep shit.
First clue should have been him calling me Nathanal... only my mother called me that, and only when I’d royally fucked up.
Second clue was how hard he was sucking on that smoke. He’s smoked for as long as I’ve known him, but I know his habits well enough to know that when he takes a massive, deep inhale and holds it, all hell’s gonna break loose.

So, I settled back to my hay bail and waited for whatever. And shit, when Mike is that pissed, it’s a hell of a wait.

He started, thank god. “You shut your fucking mouth and listen very closely Tate. We got some things to talk about that have been a long time coming. And you going all hippie shit right now is just going to make it worse.”

And I was totally confused.

“What?” I interrupted.

That was quickly shut down by Mike.
“I said shut the fuck up, son. Which part of that was unclear?”

Internal thoughts, “I’m seriously in deep shit.”

Mike snubbed out his smoke on the floor (something I’ve always thought was insanely stupid, what with dry hay and hardwood floors).

He pulled out two more beers from behind him (think this was something he’d seen coming or planned... not like the guy carried a six pack of beer with him everywhere he went). Tossed one to me, cracked open the other for himself and took a half-bottle swig.

And then of all weirdness, pulled out a fresh pack of Marlboro’s and tossed it to me. I caught it, with my free hand, looked at it and then looked at Mike with a “what the fuck” expression.
He then tossed me a zippo lighter.
And yes, my head was completely spinning at this point.

“Yer gonna need these,” he said, as plain and simple as talking about the weather.

Frankly, I didn’t have any words. Fucking weird beyond comprehension comes to mind. So I just sat there... a pack of cigarettes in one hand, a lighter in the other and a much needed beer on the floor between my legs.

And my obvious confused look didn’t go unnoticed.
Mike started laughing. Well, not really “laughing,” more like “amused chuckling.”

“Son,” he says, “Yer dad ain’t here anymore, so this promise falls to me.”

I again had the most confused as hell look on my face as you can imagine.
I didn’t smoke. Never even thought about it besides having an occasional cigar with the guys playing poker. I looked at the pack of Marlboros in one hand and the zippo in the other, both of which had just been tossed to me by someone I considered a best friend/uncle and, well, you can imagine the rest. I was confused as hell.

I set both the lighter and the smokes down, grabbed my beer, chugged it empty and again stood up to leave.

“Maybe I should have added ‘sit yer ass down and listen’ to that list,” he said with a seriousness I don’t think he’d ever used with me. “Look at yer right hand, son... it’s bleeding.”

And sure as hell, I looked down and he was right. Just between the fingers on my right hand next to my thumb. What the hell? If a pipe or wire had ripped through my gloves, I sure would have felt or noticed that.

I stood again, but this time stumbled back a few steps. This was becoming way too fucking weird.
I looked down and the blood from my hand was dripping all over the floor and staining the loose hay.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked to both Mike and anyone who could hear.
I shook my hand and more blood splattered across the barn floor. Pulled out my work gloves and pulled the right one over my hand, which quickly turned dark red from more blood.
I turned to Mike, with both fear and fury and asked “what in the hell is going on???”

He just sat there on his hay bail, sparked up another smoke and slowly exhaled while looking at me spinning around like a chicken with it’s head cut off.

And then I felt it.
The pain. Rising up from my right hand.
The kind of pain that you really never, ever want to imagine. Burning. Horrific. Climbing.
I fell over backwards against a horse stall, saw Mike running at me... and that was it.

Then I’m home in my R.V., thinking what a horribly fucked up and tiring day I’d had.

Laying pipes in the scorching heat. Yup. Beers with Mike. Yup. Something weird about smokes and blood and dad and promises... my brain was pulling a major blank on that part.

I looked down at my right hand.
No blood.
OK... weird dream, but there was something not real right. A scar there between my forefingers. Lord knows I’ve got enough scars to lose track, but this one looked new.

And there was something else.
Something felt missing. Kind of like a lost key ring or such.
I looked around but couldn’t put my finger on it. And that’s when there was a knock on my door.
Kinda stumbled up, shook myself a few times to clear the cobwebs and opened the door.

“Yeh?” I asked.

“Hey Tate. Your uncle Mike sent me by. Said you might need some tending to,” came the kinda gravely voice from outside.
Normally I’d have slammed and locked the door (who know’s what kinda freaks are out there?), but the mention of Mike dropped my guard and I stepped back and let the guy in.

And damn, good call on dropping my guard ‘cause this was friggin hot. We’re talking rugged, farm hand, handsome as hell hot.
About six foot tall, thick mustache with a hint of grey, salt and pepper short cropped hair, fully loaded package in the front of his worn Wrangle jeans, thick chest with hair flowing outta the top of his t-shirt and going all the way down his thick, tan arms.
Absolutely no lie when I say I was instantly in need of adjusting my dick ‘cause it was swelling like no one’s business.

He stepped in, closed the door behind him, I took the opportunity to do a little sliding in my pants, turned back around and saw his eyes. Fuck the adjusting. Wasn’t gonna help.
Clear blue eyes. And I mean fucking blue. His slightly leathered and tan face just made ‘em stand out like I’d never seen.

And like a complete fuckin idiot, I just stood there, speechless, while he stood looking at me, around me and finally broke the silence.
“Um, you gonna invite me in?” he said as he held up a six pack of beers, raised an eyebrow that was surely an amused look and slid past me to drop the beers on the table.

I spun around and gathered my senses a bit. He held out his hand for a shake and hit me with one of the firmest grips I’ve ever felt.

“Name’s Craig,” he says while still vice-gripping my hand. “Tate, right? Yer uncle Mike speaks pretty highly of ya. It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

And my internal voice was saying absolutely nothing but “ummmmm.”

Craig grabs a couple beers from the pack, hands me one, plops his extremely nice ass down in a chair, takes a couple swigs and setting his beer down on the table just looks me square in the eyes.

“You gonna open that or just hold it?” he says, referring to the beer in my hand.
He laughs softly to himself, takes another swig from his beer as I crack open mine and says “And no need to be hiding that” as he points his beer bottle at my obviously swollen crotch. “I take it as a compliment. Got one myself if it makes you feel any better,” as he grabs his crotch and takes another swig of beer. “You’re as handsome as yer uncle told me. Also told me you were a bit out of sorts right now, so I’m gonna cut you some slack for standing there like an idiot.”

And I was. Standing there like an idiot. Shit.

“Take a load of Tate. I ain’t gonna bite and you look pretty well spent,” he says while motioning to the chair across from him.

And fuck if my brain isn’t just spinning outta control at this point. Weird ass day, fucking hot as hell man in my place and I’m acting like a complete fuckin idiot.
I take a swig of beer, slide into the chair, set my beer down and my brain is drawing a complete blank.
So I stare at the table and spin my beer around reading the label (brilliant).

Craig reaches over and grabs my right hand from the bottle, spreads my fingers apart and says “new scar from the looks of it. How’d you manage that?”
He lets go and slides back into his seat while watching me with those unbelievable blue eyes.

I look at the scar, look back at him, do a dumbass shrug and say “honestly, don’t know.”

He gives me a puzzled look, pulls out a pack of smokes, lights up and blows smoke right at me.
“Oh, you mind?” he asks after the fact.

Normally, I’d have said ‘yes, I do mind,’ but I let it slide and just cracked the window and said “no problem.”

He took another huge drag, exhaled slowly through his nose, flicked his asses into a spare cup and said “bud, we got some talking to be done.”

He took another drag, a swig of beer and held out his right hand.
“Take a look,” he said.

Trying to keep my raging hard on from distracting me more than it already was, I looked at his hand. Damn. Big, well worn rancher hands.
I looked up at him like I was supposed to be seeing something and he chuckled.
“Wrong focus boy” as he pulled another long drag on his Marlboro, snuffed it out in the cup, laughed a bit and pointed to his fingers.
“Same scar Tate.”

I looked again and damn if he wasn’t kidding. Same scar, same place. I took a serious swig from my beer, finishing it off and he handed me a fresh one.

“Like I said, we’ve got some talking to do.” And as he popped open another beer for himself, I felt his boot slide into my crotch.
He laid back, lit up another smoke and for a good couple of minutes just worked that worn shit kicker deeper and deeper.

Me, I just just sat there. Shocked, but loving every fucking minute of it. And it didn’t take long before I just took a deep breath and enjoyed it.
Who the hell wouldn’t?
My neck relaxed. My legs relaxed. I slid down a bit to give a bit more access.

I finally looked over at Craig and he was smiling like there was no tomorrow.

“Yup, Mike was right. You need some serious tending to,” he softly whispered as he reached out and held my right hand.
“And I’m real sorry bud... this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.”

And that’s when the pain in my hand exploded again. My brain suddenly recalled earlier in the day, but this was beyond what I thought could hurt.
And then came the blood. Fuck the scar... it was gone and was dripping blood all over the fucking place. And yeh, I screamed. Feel yer arm boil and you’d fucking scream too.
And Craig would not let go of my hand. Damnit, the man had the grip from hell.
And he was bleeding too. And obviously in a shit load of pain, though I don’t think anything would compare to what I was feeling.
And then he gripped harder and let out the most ear piercing grown I think I’ve ever heard. And I didn’t just hear it, I felt it. Going straight through me. Up from my hand, arm, chest, body.
As he yelled, I felt that sound pumping into me. Fuck if I know any other way of explaining it. It was like being fucked through your skin. And mixed with the unbelievable pain was a strange feeling. A great feeling. And yeh, it was way, way too much for my brain to handle, let alone put into words.

And as quickly as it started, it stopped.

Craig slumped backwards into his chair, I fell forward into my arms onto a bloody table and all I could here was sighs of deep breathing. I closed my eyes a bit... and passed out.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Mmmmm, fuck yeh. Ride that pole nice and slow. Yeh........ mmmmmmmmmmm.
Fuck yeh, those fingers feel real good.
Yer making this cowboy real, real happy....
Mmmm... oh hell yeh. I’m gonna have to put in overtime for payback, but it’ll be worth it.
I’m so damn comfortable. Hope you don’t mind if I just lay here and enjoy the show.
Oooohhh.... I’ll take that as a yes.
Do me a favor handsome and grab me a smoke my lighter.
Mmm... thanks.
Fuck... you are exceptionally good at riding a cowboy.
Mmmmmmm.
Smoke ain’t bothering you is it?
Whoa! Guess not.
Mmmmmm, you are somethin’ else.
Wouldn’t believe what a fucked up day I had. Your are just the ticket.
Mind grabbing me another smoke?
Thanks.
Damn, when did you put that dick ring on me? It’s real nice regardless, though you know it’s gonna take me a good while longer to fill you up. Though I’m already juicing you.
Ya feel that?
*deep inhale and slow exhale while shoving in deeper*
Yeh... I so fucking needed this. Thanks bud. You fucking made my day like you wouldn’t believe.
You’ve got one unbelievable ass...
and shit, I’m sorry, but I seriously gotta take piss.

“No need to move. Go right ahead,” came a voice from a foggy distance.

I opened my eyes.

Shit, that wasn’t a dream.

Somewhere between the handshake and me passing out, Craig had moved me to the bed, stripped us both and was riding my fully hard on dick.

“Go ahead,” he said again. “Figured you might need some release so there’s towels underneath. Piss away, but I ain’t moving.”

And he wasn’t kidding. He leaned over and started chewing on my nipple while sliding up and down on my dick.

“Bud, I’m serious,” I said. “I gotta take a serious piss.”

He half laughed and said “yeh, got that. How long you think you can hold it?”

Shit, not long.
But pissing with a hard on ain’t something I’d had much experience at. And Craig was obviously not gonna stop, or let me up to hit the head.

I laid back, grabbed another smoke and relaxed as I slowly exhaled. And that’s when I looked into those damn blue eyes of his and realized smoke wasn’t all that I was exhaling. I could feel the stream of warm pulsing into him. I was fucking pissing in his ass! And it felt good. Good in the worst kinda wrong way.
Took another deep drag from the cigarette hanging from my lips, set the smoke aside in the ashtray (where did that come from?), leaned back, exhaled and let loose with one friggin whopper piss right up his ass.
And fuck, between the warmth of his hole and his muscles clamping down on my dick, I think it was the best piss I’d ever had.

“Feels good lad, don’t it?” he smiled and said as he rubbed his mustache against my lips.

I leaned over and snagged my smoke, took another deep drag, held it in and pulled this sexy fucker in closer.

He responded with a harder thrust and a smile.
“Pain’s gone I assume.” Followed by another thrust and one of the most sensuous kisses I’d ever experienced.
He pulled slowly away with whispers of smoke trailing from his mouth.
It was then I realized I hadn’t exhaled before he kissed me.
Fuck, this was something new and real hot.

I blew out a small bit of smoke, grabbed his gorgeous salt and pepper hair and pulled him in for a bit more.
Damn this man tasted good.
My dick found a renewed spring and I slammed into his ass, enjoying the look on his face.

New game. I could seriously grow to like this. And I thrust hard up inside him again.
He moaned.
Again, something new that I was really getting to like.
I hit him again and this moan was much more deep than the last.

I laid back, pulled him to my chest, glanced over and realized my smoke had gone out and lit another.
Slammed into him harder and deeper and felt a growling against my chest from him.

Oh, fuck yeh, I could seriously get to like this.
I reached down and grabbed his extremely hard and thick dick. And pulled on it without hesitation.
Got another chest growls from him.
Yanked out some spit into my hand and began massaging that bad boy while I slid up and down in his ass.

Took another huge drag on my smoke, pulled his face to mine and forced it into his lungs.
He held it, and returned it.

I pounded him again and he leaned back with a bear growl I’d never heard before.
Smoke still streaming from his mouth and nose, this man came like I’d never seen. Hit my chest. Hit my face. Hell, hit the wall behind me.
And he pushed down deeper on me while still grunting. And fuck, I unloaded in him for what seemed an eternity.
I’ve had great sex, but this was something completely different. I think just about every ounce of my body fluid was being poured into this man.

Soaked, sweating, smelling like pit juice, we finally slid apart. And yeh, good call on his part for the towels underneath ‘cause it was quite the proud mess.

We both reached for a smoke and he sparked his lighter for mine, then laid back with an extremely satisfying sigh and exhale.

I took a real deep drag on my cigarette, held it and slowly exhaled through my nose... enjoying the look of the smoke on my chest.

Craig leaned over and kissed me gently, which seemed kinda odd for such a rugged man. And then he smiled while taking another drag off his smoke.

“What you smiling at, ya sexy, horny bastard?” I asked with a laugh.

“You,” he replied with a chuckle.

I took another drag, snuffed out my smoke and just looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“How’s that hand?” he asked, gesturing to the scar on my right hand.

“Um. Fine... why you asking?” I replied, a bit confused.

He didn’t immediately reply but got up and went to the pockets of his pants that were laying on the floor.
He turned around and tossed me a handkerchief.

“Think you forgot these this morning,” he said as I folded back the fabric. “Mike said you’d likely need ‘em. Sure as hell he was right.”

Inside, the pack of Marlboro’s and the zippo Mike had tossed at me earlier.










]]> Sun, 11 Jul 2010 17:08:41 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1874 Wisdom Tooth Pulled http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1870 Well, yesterday morning I had to have a wisdom tooth pulled. Thankfully it was only 1, but I'm going through withdrawl since the dentist said not to smoke for FIVE days! FIVE?!
I wanted to ask those who have had a tooth pulled how long you waited. I know a lot of internet sites I checked advised against smoking for at least 3 days, due to the chance of getting a dry socket.
Thanks!]]> Sat, 10 Jul 2010 13:38:39 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1870 Light Up The Last, Open The New http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1869 Fri, 09 Jul 2010 18:52:35 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1869 Looking To Meet Smokers In North East Uk http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1868 Hi guys, any smokers in north east UK wanna meet up and share some smokes get in touch. Love smoking and other guys who smoke, sharing fags or gars, smoke exchanging, smoky snogs. Also well into skin, scally and workie types - have some gear myself. Get in touch guys. Thu, 08 Jul 2010 07:20:59 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1868 Looking To Meet Smokers In Chicago For Fun http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1867
Email: dallasdome@yahoo.com]]> Wed, 07 Jul 2010 12:13:13 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1867 Lighting Up http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1866 1.) How and when do you light up?

I don't mean to say in the morning etc that is old news.
Instead, try something like
1.) Right out of the theatre
Or
1.) I can't watch a movie without lighting up...
You should see my home theater set up! Some can't
go that long even with chew/snus patches etc.

Annnnnd go!]]> Wed, 07 Jul 2010 04:30:19 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1866 Smoking On Independence Day http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1865 Sun, 04 Jul 2010 13:48:55 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1865 Lost Flash File http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1864 I posted (in another topic) a link to a hypnotic flash file I'd made. Stupidly I only made a limited number of downloads available. Some people have asked me for it only I had a computer problem and I've lost the original file. So could someone who has downloaded it let me have a copy back so I can repost it.
Many thanks
Scott]]> Sun, 04 Jul 2010 07:37:39 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1864 Jacket http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1863

Chapter One

“Don't you think its absolutely divine darling. Terribly, terribly Noel Coward.” This was said, in appropriately clipped tones, by a slender young man with tousled blonde hair and engagingly bright blue eyes to his rather more muscular, dark haired and tanned companion. There had been quite a few disappointed admirers when these two got it together earlier in the year.
“I knew it was a mistake to bring you here. Its a 70s party, dingbat.”
“But its just too too irresistible.”
Ben had known Keith would be in his element in a vintage clothing shop, but how typical that he'd find the oldest thing there. But he couldn't help smiling, Keith was glowing with excitement as he held up the garment for closer examination.
“You've already got a dressing gown.” A very short one Ben had bought to show his legs.
“Philistine, this is a smoking jacket.”
“Like you need one of those.” Ben and Keith were nice boys, aside from a certain abandon in the bedroom, heath, sauna..., and didn't smoke.
“But its magnificent, pure silk, just feel it, its exquisite.”
Ben duly felt the cloth, and despite himself was impressed, it felt like water, clinging to his hands.
“That'll feel so nice on, against bare skin. And anyway I'll catch my death in that negligée you got me.”
“That...” Ben sputtered, he was always defenceless against Keith's teasing.
“That negligee is delightful, perfect for when I'm feeling tarty, but sometimes one wants elegance.” he held up the smoking jacket, struck a pose and announced, “And its only twenty pounds, I'm having it.”
Only Ben thought, but he knew better than to argue with that tone.
“OK. But now can we look at jackets.”
“Of course,” Keith said, giving Ben a quick kiss and draping the shining blue and red smoking jacket over his arm. “Oh look.”
Of course it wasn't the leather jacket Ben was after.
“My god, what are they?”
“Loons.”
“Loons? They look like flares to me.”
“They are dear, deliciously big flares from the knee, but skin tight above.”
The magic of the words 'skin tight' had their usual effect. They were the softest well worn denim from the knee up, but joined by a v shaped seam to a purple denim spreading out to truly enormous flares. The 70s, so outrageous. Ben took the loons then got distracted. Finally, jackets, black leather a whole rack of them and...
“Oh yes, Oh yes.” He held up a black leather jacket, nicely worn looking, fringed on the chest and under arms, rows of studs in all the right places. “That's the one.”
“Put it on.”
As Ben slipped on the jacket he felt its heaviness, a close but comfortable fit. Sensuous, and there was a distinct, spicy smell to the jacket too.
“Wow.” Keith said, he always had the hots for Ben, but in the jacket, “Go on, try the pants.”
Skin tight was the word, but Keith was all smiles, they just felt so good, like they'd been made for him. Suddenly, as if by magic, the shop owner appeared.
“Shall I wrap them for you, sir?”
“What? Oh yes, thanks. Party you know, 70s.”
“Perhaps these shoes?”
The curious looking shop keeper offered up a pair of platform boots, green and purple, the purple. The shoes fitted too and as he looked at Ben in them, mentally adding the gross polyester Californian shirt and medallion they'd got earlier, Keith wondered if he might even out shine his own Ziggy Stardust recreation.
“Jealous?”
“Madly. The true 70s porn star look. Pray to god they don't have vintage underwear.”
“You kidding, in these,” he ran his hands over the clinging denim, “I'm going cammo. You can see the seams, right?”
“Darling, I'm not looking at the seams.”
And the bulge he was looking at grew just a little in appreciation.
A few minutes later the two lads emerged from the gloom of the shop on to the bright street each clutching parcels, actually wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. The weirdo who ran that shop was nothing if not authentic. And he had great stuff. They were going to knock 'em dead tomorrow night.

They had only a short walk to drop off their parcels at their flat. Of course separately they never have been able to afford one of those loft style places in the converted mill. It even had a balcony overlooking the river. Their friends joked that at 25 they were getting old, but there was envy too, though that was tempered considerably by the frequent parties, dinners, Sunday lunches. As Keith put it, if you've got it, flaunt it. Being a Friday they ate out, did the usual round of the bars in the gay quarter, gossiped, flirted a little, danced a lot and, feeling only a little bit like an old married couple, left the heave of bodies a little after midnight. Some time later they lay on the bed together. Keith's gaze lingering over Ben's body where, satisfied, he'd dropped as usual into deep sleep. Fascinated as always he admired the gleam of sweat on his lover's muscled back, enjoyed that special moment of peacefulness then carefully pulled the cover over him, got up and wandered into the open living room. The night breeze from the open windows cooled his skin. So nice to be cool again, still... The, with a smile he opened one of the brown paper parcels, took out the smoking jacket and slipped it on. It felt lovely, he heavy silk clinging. And so elegant, the mirror confirmed. He poured himself a brandy and added ice since it was such a warm night, then went out onto the balcony to enjoy the distant night sounds of the city, the light on the water. Letting the warmth and fragrance of the spirit linger in his mouth Keith was only aware his hand was running over the silk clinging to his thigh when its movement was interrupted. There was something in the pocket of the jacket. Curious. In the half dark he couldn't tell if it was silver or gold, it felt quite heavy but then he was no judge really. It certainly seemed quality though. Well, that was a bit of luck. Must be worth at least what he'd paid for the smoking jacket. How appropriate, a cigarette lighter. Could it be vintage 30s like the jacket? Idly he wondered how it might work, found the whole top flipped up. You couldn't see the join. So, that cylinder on the corner that fell under your thumb must... wow, it worked. In the light of the yellow flame he still couldn't tell if it was silver or gold. He did see the word, Dunhill, in a very Art Deco script, discretely under the lid. He flipped the lid back down with the faintest sound between a click and a clunk, then up again, flick and the flame, just under an inch high reappeared. He played with the lighter a few more times, finding it worked first time every time, then placed it by the brandy glass. Funny how you don't really think about words sometimes. Words like, smoking jacket, only now Keith felt a connection with an imagined original owner who wore this jacket for smoking cigarettes which he lit with that lighter. Could that be the origin of that slight lingering fragrance it had, something muskier than a cologne. Amazing. Of course, what would be absolutely amazing was if in the other pocket... Now Keith was feeling a wee bit spooked. He was almost certain in the shop that the pockets had been empty. He couldn't really have missed something like the silver cigarette case he now had in his hand could he? Though it was elegantly slim, slightly curved so it had fitted perfectly against his thigh. Like the lighter it had that slightly heavy solid feeling of quality. Small objects of desire. It had that quality, like a mobile phone, of being almost sensuous to hold. Part of that innocent age when smoking was glamorous. Feeling, as he secretly did from time to time, just a little like Fred Astaire Keith pressed the catch pretending to offer a cigarette to the Ginger Rogers of his dreams (who was quietly dreaming inside, or was it the other way round and he was Ginger). No, surely not. But there they were, six pristine white cigarettes in a row held under a narrow silver band. Somehow they looked old fashioned, but that was daft surely. A vintage cigarette case yes. Vintage cigarettes no. Still they were unfiltered and he thought uncertainly weren't they a little thicker than modern cigarettes. Anyway if they were 70 or 80 years old they must be absolutely desiccated. But a quick sniff revealed a fresh, rich, almost spicy aroma. Now Keith had tried smoking, once, out of curiosity. The Marlboro light he'd accepted from an acquaintance in a bar one drunken night had smelt a bit like this. Well, only a little. It hadn't smelt anything like as good. This was like the best artisan bakery bread compared to white sliced supermarket trash. Well, it was only natural, he told himself, to be curious. After all what harm could one cigarette be. He felt like he owed it to the jacket. After all it was a smoking jacket. So with just the slightest feeling of the forbidden Keith took one of the cigarettes from the case, toyed with it for a moment to get the right air of elegance he then picked up the lighter. By its light he could see clearly to bring the flame into place, he sucked gently, the tip of the cigarette glowed orange and he tasted the smoke. Wow, intense, rich. He let the smoke linger in his mouth a while. When he blew it out the smoke stood out clearly against the distant light. Goodness, that was actually quite nice. Of course cigarettes must have been much stronger in those days and maybe he shouldn't inhale but it had been so smooth. Tentatively he inhaled just a little. Oh, that's not bad, feels quite nice really, and the exhale looked much better. He certainly felt it too, a feeling, mostly in his head, that was both calming and a little bit exciting. Curiously he felt his cock stirring a bit against the smooth silk. Well there was a certain naughtiness to smoking like this. He wasn't sure Ben would understand but what the hell, might was well make the most of it. So he risked a longer drag, savoured the taste in his mouth again. It felt quite natural to inhale, the cool air pleasant as it followed the smoke into his lungs. He seemed to feel the smoke there, heavy but in a way nice and then he exhaled, the smoke looking even better in the night air as pleasure spread through his body, up into his head. And down to his dick, which twitched positively.
“Hmm, you like that then.” he said to himself as he idly stroked his bulge through the silk. Feeling his excitement rapidly rising he gazed a moment at the smoke curling up from the cigarette in his hand and realised he liked the feeling of smoking a cigarette like this. That one Marlboro light he'd tried seemed like a pale imitation, this was a real smoke, stronger yet smoother. Tempting. And he remembered Oscar's advice when faced with temptation. Yield. He brought up the cigarette again, opening the smoking jacket with his other hand. Dimly he was aware that, if he wasn't exactly high he was certainly out of it, under the influence, not longer thinking just going with the sensation. He hardly had to think about inhaling, just did what felt good. The smoke he exhaled down his belly and over his very hard dick seemed more plentiful. A firm stroke up the shaft of his cock pushed a bead of pre-cum from his slit which he spread with his thumb, feelings tingling up his spine. He breathed deeply, feeling how alive his body was to pleasure as he began stroking knowing he wanted to cum again. Leaning back and getting into the familiar pleasure building under his hand he took another drag, deliberately inhaling deeper, absorbing more, exhaling more powerfully, knowing how the pleasure would shoot through his body. The thought, 'God, I can see why this is addictive', passed through his mind raising his excitement so his cock was getting slick as he took another drag. And now the cigarette was hot in his fingers and he saw it was done. He flicked the glowing end over the rail and down into the river pumping his cock all the time. He didn't want to stop now. He'd never thought smoking would feel so hot. He even liked the lingering smell on his fingers. Playing now he picked up the cigarette case, pressed its cool metal against the underside of his balls. But then he began to feel it begin to slip away. Well he had cum once already, and less than half an hour ago. It was only smoking got him so horny. He could have another. He knew he probably shouldn't, but the way his dick responded to the thought told him he would. He delayed a little, mucking round, holding the unlit cigarette in the hand that was working his dick. Kind of getting off on the sight, but not so much as knowing he wanted to light it. To feel that feeling as he inhaled. So wrong, but he wanted it. Which only got him more excited as he swapped hands a moment to pick up the lighter, cigarette dangling from his lip. A pause as he lit up, inhaled and felt the sensation reclaim him. Giving into it he worked his dick on automatic while he concentrated on smoking, feeding his body and mind with smoke. Such an amazing feeling. 'Don't kid yourself, you know you want it', he'd tell himself before taking another drag, deeper than the one before. 'You know you can't resist it' he said to himself before inhaling so sharply his breath hissed the smoke deep into his lungs.
“Oh god, fuck it, you're a smoker.” he said out loud just as cum shot from his dick up onto his chest and face. As his deep panting breaths slowed he could feel his head literally buzzing from the two cigarettes he'd smoked. What an amazing feeling. And what an orgasm. Gradually he came back to earth. Slightly surprised he saw there was still three quarters of an inch of the cigarette left burning in his fingertips. The excitement fading it seemed really weird, and wrong, obviously. There was no way he was going to start smoking. Still, there were four left. Could do this a couple more times maybe. And with that thought he took a final drag and flicked the butt over the raid watching the tip spark till it hit the river. Then he wiped his chest, washed hands and face, cleaned his teeth and joined Ben in bed.]]> Sun, 04 Jul 2010 07:15:19 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1863 <![CDATA[Don't Smoke ... Yet!]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1862
Cigar habit a plus, too!

49 6 feet 190 grey beard blue eyes Seattle]]> Fri, 02 Jul 2010 22:54:21 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1862 Animals Or Gods? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1861
1: they're low life creatures. Who'd wish someone to catch a serious disease because of a sexy habit?

2: the fetish IS about damage. Damage fetishers find joy in the danger of smoking and smoking wouldn't be sexy if it was as healthy as having an orange. They're the best fetishers.

3: It's about danger, not about damage... I think it's too extreme

4: something else, namely:]]> Fri, 02 Jul 2010 13:30:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1861 Marlboro Fingers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1860 ]]> Fri, 02 Jul 2010 06:42:35 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1860 Uk Guys For Chat http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1854
I get really turned on seeing men light up.]]> Thu, 01 Jul 2010 05:42:45 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1854 Columbus Smokers? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1853 Any dudes in Columbus Ohio? 27 year old smoker here. Would love to meet up, hit me up! Wed, 30 Jun 2010 17:53:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1853 Knoxville, Tn http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1852 Wed, 30 Jun 2010 09:04:54 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1852 Knoxville, Tn http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1851 Wed, 30 Jun 2010 09:04:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1851 Buenos Aires http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1850

Hola... alguién en Buenos Aires o de vacaciones por allá? Estaré en BsAs la próxima semana. Contactame. wink.gif]]> Sun, 27 Jun 2010 11:39:14 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1850 Buenos Aires http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1847

Hola... alguién en Buenos Aires o de vacaciones por allá? Estaré en BsAs la próxima semana. Contactame. wink.gif]]> Sat, 26 Jun 2010 10:27:42 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1847 Smokers On The Central Gulf Coast? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1846 Anyone on the central Gulf Coast? Send message or email! Sat, 26 Jun 2010 04:57:44 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1846 Anyone In Pa? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1845 Any cigar/pipe bears interested in meeting up for some laughs and a few drinks? Cub here in western Pa. Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:04:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1845 In Dc/md June 26-29 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1844
5'7' 160lbs brown hair, hazel eyes, glasses.

marlboro reds smoker here

Hit me up if interested!]]> Thu, 24 Jun 2010 20:34:17 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1844 Making A Cigar Man - Act I http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1843 Seventeen. I was seventeen when I figured out that I was a cigar man.

Uncle Nick had few rules. As long as I was under eighteen, they were really clear cut:
Don't drink (beer didn't count - it was what men drank when Nick was in 'the corps' so it was by definition alright), don't smoke, and if you knock the bitch up, you will do right by her, so you'd god damned better wear a rubber. Beyond that, he just expected that I would 'show a little fucking initiative' and 'keep myself properly squared away'.

So, in the 'squared away' category, I got good grades in school. In fact, I would be graduating a year early, just a week or so after turning eighteen. And in the 'fucking initiative' category, I also worked a night job in the warehouse of a trucking company that was owned by one of Nick's poker buddies. The job was more of a necessity really - money was tighter than a virgins twat.

Of course, like any red-blooded American teenager, I didn't always follow the rules. I smoked, at least when I thought I could get away with stealing one of Uncle Nick's cigars. Though a lot of the guys did, I never smoked cigarettes - they just never appealed to me. I drank, though very sparingly, and only when I was sure that I wouldn't get caught. And as for the rubbers, well between school and work, I had little time to exercise that particular rule, though I always made sure that I wore one on the all too infrequent occasions that I did manage to get lucky.

But tonight would be just such an occasion. By saving up some vacation time and swapping a few shifts, I managed to get two whole weeks off from work. I was looking forward to spending some time with my girlfriend, going to a couple of graduation parties, and generally blowing off some steam before school was out. And I was beginning this bacchanalia by taking my girl to a real, honest-to-god restaurant, one where your meal was ordered from a waiter rather than some pimple-faced geek who would ask 'do you want fries with that'.

But my girlfriend had other plans, plans that began with telling me 'I'm sorry Jake, but I don't think we should see each other anymore'. Goddamn. At least she had enough class to tell me before I blew a butt-load of money on dinner. In all honesty, I guess I knew it was coming, that I hadn't spent enough time with her or given her the attention she needed. Nonetheless, I was pissed, but more from frustrated expectations than emotional hurt. As it was a Friday night, I figured most of my buddies would be out on dates of their own, so I headed home to cry into my beer, figuratively at least.

I stopped by the local liquor store on the way home to pick up a couple of six-packs. I never had to worry about being carded. The same car accident that deprived me of my parents left me with a few faint scars and a couple of prematurely graying temples. Loading and unloading trucks at the warehouse had made me more muscular than any but the most hardcore jocks at school. I could have passed for Nick's brother, rather than some punk kid fifteen years his junior.

And now, gentle readers, our story takes an interesting twist. The liquor store had a walk-in humidor, and there behind the glass were some beautiful, six-inch long, sixty ring gauge, natural-wrapper beauties that seemed to be calling my name. The thought of smoking one of these big thick stogies was too much to resist, and if Uncle Nick didn't like it, well that was just too fucking bad. Besides, he would probably be on a date himself. So I bought a dozen of them, and a cheap-ass cutter to boot. I was feeling so hell-bent-for-leather that I didn't even bat an eye when the clerk totaled up my purchase. The cigars were more expensive than I had thought.

As soon as I was back in the truck, I fired up one, and inhaled deeply. Even then, I always inhaled, just like Uncle Nick. Damn, these were strong! I immediately felt my dick harden, just as it always had when I smoked. By the time I got home, I had probably smoked no more than a couple of inches of that massive stick, and had downed only one beer.

As soon as I walked in the kitchen door, Uncle Nick's voice wafted out from the den. "Damn, you're home early."

'Oh, fuck!' I thought. But what the hell, if I was man enough to earn the money to buy the dammed things, I was man enough to smoke them. So I called back as casually as I could, "Yeah. Want a beer?" as I put the remaining beers in the 'fridge.

"No, I'm good. But bring me a cigar as you come." I noticed his voice was slightly slurred, and I saw an amber bottle of scotch sitting on the counter next to his humidor. I guess he was blowing off some steam of his own.

I walked into the den, a beer in my hand and cigar in my mouth. "The bitch dumped me", I said as I handed him one of the cigars I had bought.

My heart was pounding. I expected to catch hell about the smoking, and for a long moment, he just looked at me. Instead, he just nodded slightly, and took the cigar from my hand. He cut the end, and still staring at me, lit it. He drew in a thick lungful, exhaled, took the cigar from his mouth, and looked at it. "You've got expensive tastes." he said simply, turning his gaze back on me.

I grinned slightly, mostly from relief, and drew a lungful myself, exhaling a huge cloud of smoke before I shrugged and said, "Well, at least she dumped be before dinner."

It wasn't until then that I really took in what I was seeing. Nick, sitting in his favorite chair in front of the TV, was dressed only in his boxers (which was kind of our norm when it was just us at the house), which left his copious tattoos and nipple rings exposed. What was unusual was that his massive cock was jutting out of his underwear, and Uncle Nick had what looked for all the world like a huge earring piercing the end of that beautiful, ropey-veined prick.

I had seen PAs before, in magazines at least. Yes, I knew even at that tender age that I was bisexual, and had a couple of gay mags hidden along with the requisite copies of Penthouse and Hustler stashed in my bedroom. But I had never acted on this knowledge, and stared longer than I should have at his horse-like man meat before I managed to tear my eyes away and plop down on the couch.

"You want to talk about it?" Nick asked as I took off the shirt I was wearing and kicked back on the couch.

It took me a minute to realize that he was talking about my former girlfriend and not his PA. I covered by taking a huge drag off the cigar jutting from my jaw. Exhaling, I said, "Nah. Not now anyway." It was then that I noticed what he was watching on TV.

On the screen, some shirtless jock was making out with some cheerleader in a locker room. The cheesy background music and bad film quality revealed it instantly for what it was. "Holy fuck, man. You've been holding out on me. A skin flick?" (Uncle Nick's rules
didn't cover cursing, at least when no women were present. He expected men to talk like men.)

"Yeah. I didn't expect you to be home so early. And speaking of holding out, how long you been smoking?"

"Just started. At least," I grinned sheepishly, "these are the first I've ever bought. I'll admit I have stolen a couple of your cigars before."

"I know." He responded, and nodded towards the screen, "This is the good part."

On screen, the jock had lain back on one of the locker-room benches and the cheerleader had mounted him, bobbing up and down for all she was worth, her big tits flopping up and down to that ancient rhythm. A cigar-smoking coach was peeking voyeuristically from behind a cracked door.

I gave my
dick a couple of covert rubs through the thick fabric of my jeans. This was just too much! Smoking with my uncle, watching porn with him, made me feel more masculine than I ever had before in my entire life. The testosterone was as thick in that room as the cigar smoke! Nick took a deep drag from his cigar and slowly exhaled through his nose. He looked so fucking beautiful, so god dammed manly. I knew right then that I wanted him, wanted to take that huge cock of his in my mouth, and in my ass. As if in response to my unspoken fantasy, he gave his cock a couple of strokes, his eyes locked on the screen.

I unzipped my jeans and let my own prick spring out. Nick didn't seem to notice. I took a deep drag, and held the smoke as long as I could. My heart was still pounding, but now from lust rather than fear. I exhaled through my nose, copying Nick as I began to give my stiff dick some long slow strokes.

On screen, coach approached the two lovers with his own cock jutting from his tight shorts. Nick's eyes were glued to the screen, but mine were locked on him as he slowly tugged at his boner, rubbing the precum that oozed from his slit over that god dammed beautiful PA.
I had never heard the term 'edging' before, but even I understood that I wanted this moment to last as long as possible.

The coach interrupted the couple, telling them that if they wanted to stay out of trouble they had better cooperate. Removing his shorts, he slid his wet fuck pole up the cheerleaders asshole while she was still impaled on the jock's dick! Nick and I both stroked ourselves, smoke billowing from our mouths and noses.

When the jock and the cheerleader had both cum, coach sent the girl home, and told the jock that he wasn't through with him just yet. My heart was beating so loudly that I thought for sure Nick would hear it. The coach stuck his slimy, ass-juice covered prick in the jock's mouth.

It was too much for me! My hand became a blur of motion. Nick looked at me and said through the thick cigar fog in the room, "Not yet, Jake. It gets even better."

I forced myself to slow down and watched as the coach fed his man-bitch his cock. After the boy had it good and slick, the coach turned him over and began tonguing his mancunt. Over the jocks moans and groans, coach slid that big fuck pole in his ass and began pounding him for all he was worth.

Again my hand became a blur, and even Nick picked up his pace. I took a glorious lungful of smoke and cried out "GODDAMN!" as I shot the hugest load of motherfucking cum on to my wifebeater. Nick grinned at me, then closed his eyes and shot his own load onto his chest. I panted as Nick finished. My goddamed balls felt like they had just turned inside out. Nick stood up, took a deep drag, and said as he exhaled, "Goodnight Jake. Clean that shit up off the couch when you're done. I'm going to bed." He turned as he reached the
door. "It's better with a cigar, isn't it."

"Fucking A. God dammed straight it is." I murmured as he left the room.

I rewound the tape and smoked another cigar, jacking off four or five times as I watched the whole movie. It goddamed was better with a cigar. Still is.]]> Thu, 24 Jun 2010 18:19:49 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1843 What Does The Fetish Mean To You? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1842
So, I'm curious.

1. What do smoking and the smoke fetish mean to you?
2. What did it mean to you when you started?
3. Has that meaning changed over time?
4. If so, what does it mean to you today?

I'll respond to my own questions in a follow-up (it's only fair smile.gif). But, I'd like to hear from some of the rest of you first.]]> Thu, 24 Jun 2010 13:22:18 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1842 Myrtle Beach http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1841 In Myrtle Beach till Saturday. Any smoking buds around? Thu, 24 Jun 2010 07:08:24 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1841 Travis-justin Redux http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1840
Travis and Justin - The High School Smoke Saga


Travis had always fantasized about the hot skater jock that shared his PE class. He just had never had the courage to talk to the 6'0" blonde and fit 17 year old. His muscles always looked so… tasty to Travis, and he could barely control himself.

Travis slipped off his shirt quickly using it to wipe off his sweaty chest and face. He quickly used his deodorant, he knew he had to get out of here quickly. The rest of the game had been a blur, Justin had gone out of his way to be rough with him the whole time. Everytime the bastard had tackled him, he had made a point to find Travis' nuts on the way up and twist them hard. His balls hurt through enough of the game that he hadn't been too worried about popping wood, but he knew that if anything happened now… he would be fucked, there was just no way he could survive the shower. He slipped his shorts off as fast as possible, his nuts were dripping sweat and he quickly wiped them with his gym shirt before tossing it in his locker and pulling on his jeans. When he finished dressing, Justin was at his locker. "Fuck!" he thought to himself, the bastard wasn't showering either. Justin stood there staring at him, not turning, not moving.

Travis froze, he couldn't stop staring at this teenaged skater god standing there shirtless, his ripped up jeans already on and an obscene bulge showing. Justin's right nipple was pierced with a barbell and Travis was amazed he had never seen it before. It looked so... lickable. Travis self-consciously adjusted his crotch. Justin still just stood there for a minute and Travis couldn't move, their eyes met and Justin smirked and bent over to grab his black beater from the locker. He pulled it on slowly, holding eye contact with Travis, making a point of tweaking his nipple while he pulled the wife beater down his chest. Justin leaned back, his crotch pushed tightly against his jeans.

Travis shook his head, this wasn't happening. He was dreaming, he had to be... but damn his chest hurt from being tackled... and his balls still ached from Justin crushing them on the field. He had to get out of here... now, he slammed shut his locker and turned, bumping into half naked highschoolers on his mad rush to get out of the locker room. His eyes were glued to the floor, he didn't want to talk to anyone, he just wanted out before ... he didn't even know what he was afraid of anymore, he couldn't stop thinking about Justin's cock and his nipples, and .... oh god... he had to leave he thought to himself. He almost made it out the door when he slammed into what felt like a warm, slightly pliable wall. Looking up, he saw Jason, standing at about 6'2" and 190 lbs of muscle, the high schools quarterback was usually in the locker room doing anything other than class. Jason grinned down at Travis, "Hey little fucker, I heard you actually made a good catch today." Jason reached down and rubbed Travis' hair, "maybe you aren't such a brain after all." Travis mumbled a thank you and squeezed around Jason as quick as he could. He checked his watch, 2pm already... and class with Justin. He crossed the school, and almost made it when he realized his backpack was still in the locker room. His stomach turned, he had to go back or he would get torn apart in class. He turned on his heel and ran. By the time he made it back into the gym the locker room was empty. He ran to his locker and fumbled with the combination.

Travis felt a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn, but the hand held him still. He felt hot breath on his ear, it had a bitter smell, like cigarettes or weed, Travis tried not to but breathed in deep. He found he actually liked the smell, it made him feel dirty. "Travis… if you grab your bag and go, that's your call. But, I will completely forget about you staring at my dick today and go back to ignoring you. If you take your hand off your locker and follow me, the day will be more fun than chemistry class."

Corruption (n), subversion, destroying someone's honesty or loyalty; undermining moral integrity.

Travis let his hand fall from the metal lock, he was breathing hard and his heart beat furiously. Like so many times today, his body was moving on autopilot, his cock taking control. He wanted to stop, he NEEDED to be in class, but he needed to taste Justin's breath, his chest, his cock... everything. He needed it more, he didn't know what was coming over him. He was HORNY, more so than he had ever been before. He felt Justin's hands grab him under the armpits and pull him up so he was standing straight. Justin's hands lingered and felt around, his head was spinning, everything was moving far too fast. Travis tried to spin around, to object, to say... anything. Justins elbow landed in between his shoulder blades and pressed him forward against the chest high lockers. "Travis, you know you don't want to leave, stop being a pussy and admit that you want to stay. After an hour, you wanna leave… then feel free... but I guarantee you won't want to." Justin leaned down and flashed Travis a smile while his free hand worked down into the back of Travis' jeans. Justin grabbed his ass cheek hard and he failed to choke back a surprised yelp. Justin's hand slid lower and felt at Travis' hole. Travis panted and lifted his ass back up closer to Justin's hand. Justin pressed his middle finger in hard, moving it around inside of his new friend. Travis had always dreamed about a moment like this, his hot skaterboy fingering him in the locker room. Justin leaned in and whispered "Do you want it fucker?" Travis moaned and backed up more, "yes, please... more."

Justin yanked his finger out and shoved it deep in Travis' mouth, "suck it boy, you will get more when you deserve it." Travis gagged and tried to lean back, he fell into Justin, who wrapped his arm around him and started nipping at Travis' ear. Travis moaned and started sucking Justin's finger. Justin pulled back, his own hardon visibly snaking down his jeans. Justin grabbed Travis' hand, and pulled him towards the back of the locker room, yanking open a rusted metal door, he pulled him in. Travis had never been back here, and once the door snapped shut it was pitch black.

Justin fished around in his pockets and found them, he needed a smoke, and he knew that in this room no one would ever notice. Half of the jocks had keys to this room and would smoke cigars, weed, and the occasional cig here, and he had earned a key through some mild haggling and his nine-incher up a young varsity football players ass. He yanked out the pack of reds, and pulled two out, firing them both up with a zippo. The flame lit, Travis could see in the small room he looked while he could but was distracted watching Justin puff the two reds to life. "Umm.. Justin, why you need two?" Justin laughed and pulled them both from his mouth letting out a huge exhale in Travis' face and then sticking them back in between his teeth. Travis cringed and tried not to breathe in, "Well Trav, I don't need two, I need one.. you need one."

Travis looked confused, "Justin, I don't smoke."

Justin grinned with the two reds stuck in his teeth, "You do now."

"No, really... I don't like it.." Travis said, as Justin leaned closer placing his hand on Travis' shoulder. Justin started walking forward pressing Travis against the wall and grabbed the back of his head, he took a deep inhale from the two reds and exhaled while dangling. A huge cloud of smoke swirled around Travis' face, quickly Justin double pumped the reds and pulled them from his lips moving forward quickly. His hand behind Travis' head yanking Travis forward.

Justin forced Travis' mouth open with his tongue, and Travis, forgetting everything, moved into the kiss. Justin held Travis tight and let go with his double pump filling up Travis' lungs to bursting. Justin held the kiss for as long as he could and took a step back, adjusting his cock in his jeans. Travis let the exhale out, and coughed for a moment. He fell up against the wall, feeling his first nicotine rush. He had always though smoking was sexy, but had never been convinced to try it. Now all he knew, was that his cock was hard as a rock and that his sexy god of a jock was standing in front of him, double reds dangling. Justin reached over into the darkness and flipped the light switch. A single overhead bulb flickered on, revealing old worn out sweat covered wrestling mats, punching bags, a pummel horse, and other random gym equipment that was never used. The floor was littered with butts and ash, it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

Justin politely held out one of the half smoked reds, Travis grabbed it awkwardly not knowing what to do with it. Justin sat down on one of the old mats, his legs splayed outward, back against the wall. Travis sat next to him and tried to smoke his red, his hand shaking when he brought it up to his lips. A small puff of smoke. Justin licked his lips and put his red between his teeth, "Let me show you, first you put it in, and then you drag" His lips closed down hard and his cheeks hollowed out. He opened his mouth so Travis could see the thick ball of smoke as Justin breathed in quickly and held it. Justin patted his lap, "come over here, i'll show ya."

Travis moved closer to Justin and sat cross legged near his legs. Justin sighed and patted his crotch again, "No, sit here." Justin rubbed his hand across the bulge in his pants. Travis stood up still nervously clutching the half burned out cig. He moved between Justins legs and sat down between them. Justin's arm went around his chest and pulled him down so that Travis was looking up towards Justin, his head resting on Justin's upper chest. Justin put his red back in his mouth and grabbed Travis' hand, lifting his cigarette up to Travis mouth. "Just follow my directions and it's easy." Travis nodded and let Justin pushed the cig to his mouth, holding it there while Travis shut his mouth, "now just suck in, don't breathe in yet, just suck... like a popsicle or a cock." Travis smiled and nodded and started dragging on the cig, the sound of tobacco burning made his cock jump a little. "Now just hold it there and take a breath when I remove the cig, ok little buddy." Travis nodded again slowly, Justin pulled the cig out and rubbed the wet filter against Travis' shirt covered nipple. Travis held back a moan on feeling the pressure on his nipple… he held the smoke for about 5 seconds before he started exhaling, his eyes closed. Justin leant down and closed his mouth around the smaller boys lips.

Travis felt Justin kiss him with the smoke in his lungs but he tried to hold back from exhaling the smoke, he didn't want to piss off this horny skater. Justin's tongue crawled all around the inside of his mouth. Travis couldn't hold it any longer, he had to exhale. The smoke burst out of his lungs in a powerful burst, Justin grabbed the back of Travis' head and latched their lips together sucking up all of the smoke.]]> Thu, 24 Jun 2010 02:02:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1840 Bizarre Siting http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1839
I was just on vacation in Charleston, SC. One day I headed out by boat to Ft. Sumter. As we were waiting for the boat to return I noticed one of the deck hands light a cig. Here's the strange part. Before lighting the thing, he cupped the filter in his hand and waved the flame of his lighter over the filter a couple times. Then placed the filter in his mouth and lit up like normal.

It was incredibly hot to witness but I couldn't figure out what the whole filter thing was about and he was too far away to ask him. Also, he did it sorta secretively like he might be one of us and was filter fucking and didn't want to be caught, but I don't know. Anyone have any idea what he was up to?]]> Wed, 23 Jun 2010 19:31:44 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1839 <![CDATA[Superman: Return Of Nick O'teen]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1838
Taking inspiration from interactive storysites, this experiment was set out back on BTJeff.net to see what us fetish writers could bring together in terms of smoking fanfic. Those credited with contributing the subsequent chapters were, in no specific order, JFM, Joe Smith, SmokinJeff, Justin and myself.

For those who have read this before, relive this rare collaboration. For those who have never seen this, enjoy the carnage that ensues.
The story was never finished, so if anyone feels drawn to adding their own chapter to this saga, feel free...

Part One

"Mr Luthor, your two oclock appointment has arrived......will i show him in? The receptionist asked
"Yes, Ms Collin." Lex replied whilst sitting in his large chair, staring blankly into the Metropolis skyline outside his office window.
Lex inhaled lazily on his cigar as his guest walked confidently into his office and took a seat. Savouring the smoke, the villain smiled as he sensed another fresh aroma of smoke entangle with his own cigar smoke.
"You said you had something to offer me - what is it?" Lex asked directly, keeping his back turned on his guest.
"You want rid of Superman - I want rid of Superman. We both share a common goal and I have the tool to eradicate your enemy easily." The guest replied.
Lex turned to face his guest - staring into his brown eyes.
"So what tool are we talking about, Nick O'Teen?" Lex inquired, his patience of killing Superman wearing thin.
Nick sat forward in his chair and layed a small phone onto Lex's desk.
The villain picked up the phone and smiled back at his old colleague.
"So I am going to kill Superman by a phone?" Lex asked sarcastically. His smile descended into a frown as his patience decreased.
"Get out of my..." Lex shouted but stopped as Nick stood up from his chair.
"Listen Luthor....what you have in your hand is far more than a phone. Open it up." Nick insisted, sitting back down in his chair.
Lex placed his smouldering cigar in the ashtray as he carefully peeled back the bottom compartment on the phone. As the compartment flaps bent back, a red button stuck up from the inside of the compartment. Above the compartment were the number buttons. The red button created the most curiousity in Lex.
"What does that do?" Lex asked, pointing innocently to the button.
Nick smiled"I introduce to you the mindsetter - a project I have been working on undercover since Superman beat me. I have always vowed to get revenge on him for my humiliation. The purpose of the phone is to call up your target - and hypnotize them. The button activates a subliminal frequency which channels into signal received on your phonecall. This frequency inflicts a hypnotic state onto the receiver of your call."
Lex tossed the phone in his hand, whilst listening to the background of Nick's creation.
"So this device really works? How do I know this is not just a prank?" Lex inquired curiously.
Nick O'Teen sat back with a beaming smile as he rubbed his nicotine-stained hands together.
"I will just have to give you an example, won't I? Nick replied.
Nick O'Teen motioned Lex towards the office window and looked down onto the streets of Metropolis.
"Do you see that couple down outside the jewellery store?" Nick pointed.
Lex looked down, noting a couple looking admiringly at diamond rings through the shop window, hand in hand.
As Lex continued to look at the loving couple, Nick took the MindShifter from the villain's grasp and punched numbers into the phone.
Suddenly, the wife removed a mobile phone from her jacket pocket and held the receiver to her ear.
Lex could hear Nick talk to the woman on the phone from the mindsetter.
"You will rob the jewellery store now." Nick spoke softly, whilst pressing the button on the phone compartment. The button shone red as the subliminal wave began.
As Nick finished relaying instructions on the mindsetter, he replaced the device onto Lex's desk. Lex then witnessed the woman walk straight into the jewellery store as her husband, looking bemused, followed. Suddenly, the two villains could hear screams as customers rushed from the store in panic. Two police cars rushed onto the scene and sprinted into the jewellery store.
Moments later, three gunshots filled the street corner as screams echoed in the carnage.
"The target is dead, Lex. She died coz I gave her a command. With the hypnotic frequency working, she could not resist." Nick beamed as he sat back in his chair.
"You know - Information Technology is an amazing thing. The phone is a vital component of communication and the mindsetter takes full advantage of that fact. How did I get that womans number, I hear you ask - as you can see, the mindsetter has an antenna built in. In many ways, the antenna is not just for receiving a signal - this antenna picks up information from other mobile phone users in particular. By pointing the antenna at a target, the mindsetter instantly retrieves the phone number. Therefore, it just takes one button to dial your enemy's number and you then just click the red button. Once you hear a small humming from the mindsetter, then you simply relay your instructions."
Lex was amazed - if this device could take control of their subjects with such strength, imagine what it could to to a superhero. The mindsetter has plenty of potential.
"So how much do you want?" Lex asked, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
"I don't want your money, Lex - I want to be involved in changing the world. With your empire and my mindsetter, we can eradicate the world with superheroes. I also personally want to turn the tables on Superman - I want to turn him into my personal enforcer. You remember how he beat me when I tried to pass on smoking to the youth? With the mindsetter, I want to change him into my pro-smoking advocate bodyguard. With him under our power, I want him to help me promote smoking back to our youth." Nick O'Teen smiled, imagining the end of Superman and his values.
"We got a deal?" Nick added.
Lex sat back in his chair, his impatience replaced by fresh optimism. He picked up the cigar and began puffing away dreamily as he looked at the mindsetter.
"What would you like to do first, Lex?" Nick asked.

]]> Tue, 22 Jun 2010 15:50:20 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1838 Classics - My Recommendations http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1837
As both a reader and a writer, I love substance and character development, over a quick blast of erotica, when it comes to fiction. My particular kink is transformation/mind control.

Please find below a definitive list of the very best stories from over the years, from various sources.

Its been great rediscovering these stories so much, that here is an additional installment of classics.

Enjoy reading.

TODD THE ANTISMOKER (William)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222021344/...oddtheanti.html

WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S FIREMEN (Mark)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222065728/...resFiremen.html

THE MAN OF THE HOUSE (Mark)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222061719/...oftheHouse.html

THE ADVENTURES OF MATT HARRIS: SMOKE ON THE WATER (Jack)
http://web.archive.org/web/20030728074337/...okeonWater.html

SWITCH (Chester)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031220065212/...ies/Switch.html

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION (JC)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031220054458/...es/Newyear.html

MATTHEW GOES TO BOSTON (William)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222033132/...estoBoston.html

JOSHUA'S DAD (Jack)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222025110/...ies/Joshua.html

THE ELEVENTH DAY (Jack)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031222060059/...leventhDay.html

FORCED SMOKE (FUX n SUX Teens)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031006064603/...html?1054824164

BRYAN AND ANGELO (Paul)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031006082954/....html?982035064

CHRIS LEARNS TO SMOKE (USDJohn)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031006070128/....html?980285244

Other notable entries I DON'T have links for are;

1.BLOOD OF TOBACULA
2.LOOKING GLASS WORLD

Having post these, the task of producing fiction of a similar calibre can be tough, but very rewarding.]]> Mon, 21 Jun 2010 18:10:39 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1837 Classics - My Recommendations http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1836
As both a reader and a writer, I love substance and character development, over a quick blast of erotica, when it comes to fiction. My particular kink is transformation/mind control.

Please find below a definitive list of the very best stories from over the years, from various sources.

The list is extensive, so Ive split this list into 2 parts.

Enjoy reading.

SMOKING IS FOR THE YOUNG (BH100Man)
http://web.archive.org/web/20010430034421/....html?956596624

SMOKE STARTERS (Patrick)
http://web.archive.org/web/20010430040154/....html?964676450

TRANSFUSION (Terry)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031014172641/...html?1011416698

THE EXECUTIVE (Justin)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031014181254/...html?1019011032

CHAIN OF INFLUENCE (Carlos)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031211194119/...html?1042803727

ON BEYOND CAMP (Greg)
http://web.archive.org/web/20031211214800/...html?1054754360

]]> Mon, 21 Jun 2010 17:42:20 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1836 Classics - My Recommendations http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1835
As both a reader and a writer, I love substance and character development, over a quick blast of erotica, when it comes to fiction. My particular kink is transformation/mind control.

Please find below a definitive list of the very best stories from over the years, from various sources.

The list is extensive, so Ive split this list into 3 parts.

Enjoy reading.

REWRITING HISTORY (J.F.M)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...mp;hl=rewriting

CREATURES OF THE NIGHT (Clubkid)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...es+of+the+night

MARLBORO BAREBACK PARTY (Clubkid)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...=bareback+party

THE SMOKE GARDEN (Patrick)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...hl=smoke+garden

IT WAS EASY (Ceebee)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...;hl=it+was+easy

KILLIK (Roller)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...5&hl=killik

ROOM 1702 (Patrick)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...mp;hl=room+1702

SMOKING SUV (Patrick)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...;hl=smoking+suv

HOOKING HARRY (Will)
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtop...l=hooking+harry





]]> Mon, 21 Jun 2010 17:36:27 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1835 Camel Wides In Uk http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1834
Does anyone know whether they can be found in the UK?

Is there anyone who makes occasional UK/USA trips and would be able to bring some back - not many, say a carton every 6 months.]]> Mon, 21 Jun 2010 02:04:02 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1834 Winston Salem, Nc http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1833 Gonna be in Winston Salem Wednesday the 23rd. Anyone up for meeting, smoking, hanging out, and seeing what happens? Sun, 20 Jun 2010 17:12:06 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1833 Studs In Cincinnati? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1832 27 year old smoker in Cincy for tonight only! Any smoking dudes wanna get together, hit me up, thanks! Thu, 17 Jun 2010 16:36:37 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1832 Studs In Cincinnati? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1831 27 year old smoker staying in Cincinnati tonight only. Looking for some dudes to have a few smokes with. Hit me up if you are in the area. Thanks! Thu, 17 Jun 2010 15:39:29 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1831 Waking Up To Smoke http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1830 If not, would you mind your boyfriend smoking in bed while you're still sleeping?]]> Thu, 17 Jun 2010 12:58:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1830 Toronto Daddy Or Older Bears http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1829
Anyone around for some smoke?

Cub here from Ottawa.]]> Tue, 15 Jun 2010 01:40:16 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1829 Toronto Hairy Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1828
Is anyone around for some cigs in the evening?


]]> Mon, 14 Jun 2010 00:21:30 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1828 Story Ideas For Newcummers And Oldcummers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1827
ready???

1) sucking off dad. a boys memoir of growing up his chainsmoking daddy. hot incest, forced smoke and smokesex with boy and his friends.

2) world cup orgy. someone is converting world cup players into smoking whorez. lots of threeways, orgies, bareback sex.

3) american gothic. boy moves to new school. gothic bearded boy who lives to wear black leather/rubber. only problem hes been sent to a strict catholic school by his uncle. whats a boy to do? change the school and get revenged on his uncle ---!

4) sex club smokeoff. nonsmoker staff get forced into all sorts of kinky bareback sex action as smoke masters take control. lots of leather, cockrings, pumps, amyl.

5) in search of master. young man gets off on secret smoke fetish and hangs around men in businessuits who smoke. one man, a master, notices young man getting off and decides to make him into his slave ---- permanently.

well thats 5 ideas --- feel free to use them (abuse them, slurp!) and feel free to add your ideas to this for other people considering writing stories -- it could be the breakthrough they have been looking for!

CK]]> Sat, 12 Jun 2010 05:29:59 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1827 Why Do You Smoke The Brand You Smoke? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1824

Why do you smoke the brand you smoke? Is it the taste, the price, the image, the amount of nicotine, the design of the pack/cigarette/filter?

Have you ever switched? Why?

Is it important to you that a man smokes a brand you like? Are there any brands a man shouldn't smoke at all?

Are there any national brands in your country? What are they like and how much tar an nicotine do they contain?


Of course, you don't need to answer all the questions. Pick the one you like or say something else you like to share about the brand you smoke.]]> Fri, 11 Jun 2010 11:59:02 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1824 Into The Woods http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1823 Fri, 11 Jun 2010 06:05:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1823 Old Style Cigarette Filter http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1822 Thu, 10 Jun 2010 21:40:05 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1822 Well Concerning New Topics http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1820
It is frustrating as some others have shared, whether clubkid and his many sordid tales and hardly anyone writes their own stories or as Opsteker has said about a lot of lurkers and nobody posting. I think this board needs to be revitalized and especially for all of you regular smokinmen.com visitors/members take some time and just let us know what you think. As Opsteker says if you don't find a topic to your liking please start a new one, the hornier or more interesting the better!

I don't mean to come off as accusing the ones that do not post of some kind of crime, no quite the opposite I would just like to see and hear from and about hot smokers like myself.

Discuss.

biggrin.gif]]> Tue, 08 Jun 2010 23:58:01 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1820 I Want A New England Guy Into Damage http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1819 Newport 100's a +++, no white filters or unfiltered, no cigars, maybe a pipe) Heartriskers (gainers) are cool too, but be thin or in shape so I can watch you grow. Also, super rich doesn't hurt since we'll need $ for our lifestyle. (why is this so hard to find? lol)]]> Tue, 08 Jun 2010 21:44:25 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1819 Berlin Juli Zwischenmiete http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1818 Looking for a room to rent in Berlin from July through mid-August. Prefer to live with another fetisher and live in a room where I can smoke as much as I want. Please send a private message or reply here. Thanks. Sun, 06 Jun 2010 13:01:35 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1818 Some Good News... http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1817

You might remember back in November 2008, I found out I had the beginnings of Emphysema!

I went to the Dr for a follow-up last week and.....

It's gotten worse...from mild emphysema to moderate emphysema! biggrin.gif

So excited, I came home a chained 2 packs to celebrate!

]]> Sat, 05 Jun 2010 16:53:33 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1817 Some Good News... http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1816

You might remember back in November 2008, I found out I had the beginnings of Emphysema!

I went to the Dr for a follow-up last week and.....

It's gotten worse...from mild emphysema to moderate emphysema! biggrin.gif

So excited, I came home a chained 2 packs to celebrate!

]]> Sat, 05 Jun 2010 16:53:14 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1816 Say Something! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1815 Fri, 04 Jun 2010 13:49:24 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1815 Looking For A Story http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1814 Fri, 04 Jun 2010 09:04:37 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1814 Looking In Nyc http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1812 Blonde hair (very short cut) green eyes, hairy chest, moustache. Lookin' for the real thing....face to face, mouth to mouth, mouth to.....smoke sex.
Early 50's but look younger.]]> Tue, 01 Jun 2010 16:06:07 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1812 Smoking Solo Vids http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1811 Mon, 31 May 2010 16:11:29 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1811 Smoking In London This Weekend http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1810
Any beary/chubby london smokers up for a drink and a smoke this weekend? 26 yr old cub here looking to make smoking friends in the city. Drop me a message.

Thanks :-)]]> Fri, 28 May 2010 14:46:31 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1810 Young Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1809 who do u think are the hottest 20 yr old and 12 and up smokers? youtube and/or xtube Fri, 28 May 2010 00:26:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1809 <![CDATA[Smokin' In Dc]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1808
CieloNYC]]> Thu, 27 May 2010 09:32:11 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1808 J.w. And Todd From Smokindudes.com http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1807
Does anyone know whatever happened to J.W. and Todd from Smokindudes.com? I hope they are doing well - haven't heard their names come up in years.]]> Mon, 24 May 2010 20:17:22 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1807 Teach Me To Smoke And Love Smoke Sex! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1806 Looking for a guy in the Atlanta, GA area who can get me hooked on smoke and smoke sex! Mon, 24 May 2010 18:08:59 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1806 Any South Texas Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1805 Just wondering if anyones near me Mon, 24 May 2010 06:43:00 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1805 Ct Smoke http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1804 Looking for dudes in the CT area for a smoke. JJREDZZZ@yahoo.com Wed, 19 May 2010 05:37:42 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1804 Smoke Swappers Wanted! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1803 I am from Regina Saskatchewan Canada. I would like to meet another gay guy into smoke sex. Get back to me. Im 39 br hair and eyes. smoked for 22 years now. 2ppd. Tue, 18 May 2010 17:34:02 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1803 Re: Glasgow Smoke-out, Some Smokes And Some Pints In Glasgow http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1802 Since Wetherspoons had a smoking ban before it became law I reckon its not the place smokers should be supporting. Sun, 16 May 2010 13:45:59 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1802 Glasgow Smoke-out http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1801
http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?act=attach&type=post&id=4998]]> Sun, 16 May 2010 12:33:45 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1801 Arkansas Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1800 Hey guys! 21 year old in NE Arkansas looking for a good smokeout session with a Marlboro man. Any takers? Sat, 15 May 2010 17:55:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1800 Meet In Paris http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1797 23 year old chubby smoke fetisher here looking for meet with smoke dady in paris at end of the month for smoke fun Sat, 15 May 2010 00:36:33 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1797 22 Year Old Smokin Top Travelling Around Europe In June http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1796 Couple of pics attached

Paris day time 5th June
Luxembourg 5-6 June
Basel 6-7
Munich (Muenchen) 8-10
Berlin 10-13
Warsaw 13-14
Krakow 14-15
Salzburg 16
Koln 17

Recon profile is steveyboyie for more pics. Keywords below:

Fetishes
Chaps, Denim, Facial Hair, Hands, Kilts, Leather, Nipples, Piercing, Rubber/PVC, Smoking, Sportswear, Suits, Tattoos, Toys, Underwear, Uniforms

Types I Like
Builders, Clubbers, Farmers, Firemen, Footballers, Geeks, Labourers, Leather Men, Married Men, Medical (Uniforms), Military (Uniforms), Muscle Men, Policemen, Preppies, Punks, Rugby Players, Short Guys, Skins, Tall Guys, Truck Drivers, Twinks

Sexual Activities
Anal, Bondage, Cybersex, Fisting, Groups, Kissing, Oral, Phone Sex, Rimming, Role Play, Shaving, Threesomes, Tickling, Vanilla, Wanking, Wrestling]]> Fri, 14 May 2010 18:15:53 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1796 Mcallen, Tx - 5/17 - 5/21 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1795 Send me a PM if in the Rio Grande Valley area. ~thx, J Fri, 14 May 2010 16:50:01 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1795 Rolling Along http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1794
I met Luke in my second year at Uni. He was a first year, but he'd had a year out so we were only a few weeks apart in age. What can I say about Luke. He's great. I thinks so, but then I am in love. I mean he's a bit scruffy, shaggy hair, goatee. Thinks its weird the care I take. And he'd never go to the gym. But he's got a good body, wiry, which I like. And well, he's big where it counts. Anyway we met at a film night. I'd kind of been eyeing him up. I didn't think he'd even noticed but after he asks if I want to go for a drink. Sure. And he goes for the gay friendly pub – I mean its a student pub but its gay too, so I was hopeful. I was one of those nights in May you sometimes get when it seems summer's come early so I was happy to sit outside anyway. Turns out he smokes. Well, you can't have everything. And I'm not uptight about that. Smoked a bit myself in my first year. I suppose you try things out. And anyway, I thought he's funny, good looking. We liked the same music too. So I was thinking things were going pretty well when he announced he had to go. Exam the next day so it so kind of OK. At least he seemed genuinely apologetic. So we swapped numbers and he called me. Next day. The rest as they say is history. The sex was great – as if I had much to compare it to. Or him. Not that I was his first.
So we were an item and we'd hang out as much as we could. But we weren't total losers. Exams do matter so it wasn't like one long party. But soon as they were over we decided we'd go away together. His folks had a sailing boat and we'd have it to ourselves for a week or more. He'd sailed a lot ever since he was a kid, had a yacht master's certificate (which I thought was dead impressive and curiously sexy) and so we were going to take it over to France. Load up on cheap wine, good food then find some secluded beach you can only get to by boat. Sex on the sand. I couldn't wait.
The night before we set off, the day of my last exam, we had quite a celebration. At that same student/gay pub. We were already a bit drunk, had both been on the karaoke and were outside so he could have a smoke and he's go out his tobacco tin and papers. Yeah, he rolled his own, not just to save money, he reckons they're a better smoke plus 'they don't have all that shit they put in ready made fags'. He's about to roll up, but then he stops and he says.
“Mikey.” I love it when he calls me that, no one else ever does, “Can I teach you how to roll a cigarette.”
“But why?”
“Well, its a long drive tomorrow and we may not have time to stop. Plus when we're sailing I might have my hands full so it'd be useful if you knew how.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
Actually I kind of liked the thought of rolling his cigarettes. Almost romantic, you know, like making him toast and coffee in the morning. So he took a paper and handed it to me, then took another himself.
“OK, I'll talk you through it. So first you hold the paper with the cut corners toward you and make sure the gum's showing. That's it, so the fold makes a channel to take the tobacco. Now you take some tobacco, hold the paper over the tin 'cos some's bound to fall. The trick is getting the right amount.” usually he was so quick rolling up a cigarette I could hardly follow but he was doing it slowly as he spoke so I could see. “OK, that's about right. Then you spread it evenly along. Don't worry if some falls out of the ends, that's what the tin's for. Now, you roll it up. Make sure you get the edge nearest you tucked under. Then roll it a bit. What you want to do is get it not too loose, not too tight. Too loose and it burns too quickly. Too tight you can't suck on it. And finally lick the gum, roll and press it so its sealed then pinch off any tobacco that's leaking out and Voilà.”
He'd produced, as usual, a perfect looking cigarette.
“Now its your turn.” he pushed the tin over to me. It was kind of sweet really, he was encouraging. “Yeah, a little more tobacco. Yeah, that's good. Now spread it, gently. Just right. And now, roll, its not as difficult as it looks just... Yeah, that's good.”
Finally I licked the gum, got it rolled without any problem, pinched off straggly beards of tobacco from each end. I felt quite proud of my self. It actually looked like a cigarette. I'd even enjoyed doing it, the tobacco had a nice scent to it.
“Hmm, pretty good.” he said, examining my handiwork and we smiled at each other. “Congratulations, you have rolled your first cigarette.”
“It was nothing.”
“Say that when you try doing it on a pitching boat.”
“Maybe you'll just have to do without for a bit.”
“No way. Crew's job is to keep the skipper happy. I'm Cap'n Luke remember, scourge of the sea lands and you're...”
“Roger the cabin boy.” I joined in.
“And don't ee forget it, boy.” he added in mock pirate.
We were still grinning like idiots when he said, “So, since we're celebrating why don't you smoke that fine cigarette you've just rolled.”
I was a bit surprised at the suggestion, but then he did know I'd smoked a bit. And it had slipped kind of comfortably into my hand just like a cigarette, and I was a bit drunk which was always when I used to smoke.
“Yeah, why not?”
Which seemed to please him, something I always liked to do. So he leant over and gave me a light. Of course, it's like riding a bike, you don't forget. I inhaled then...
“Wow, that's strong.”
“What did you smoke before?”
“Marlboro lights.”
“Ah yeah, these have got a good bit more kick to them.”
“You said it.”
I had a bit more respect now for the deep inhales he took as I took another drag and felt that warm nicotine rush flow over me. We smiled at each other as we exhaled and I was very aware of that effect smoking had on me. Maybe it was something to do with the naughtiness of it, but when I first tried smoking I'd always get a hard on. And I got a good one this time, but then I was always horny around Luke. Since I hadn't smoked in ages, plus it was really strong I took it easy. Even so when I'd finished I felt pretty light headed. I'd forgotten how much I liked that. Plus there was the kind of bonding thing about smoking together. At least when we'd done and headed back (our next turn on the karaoke was due) he put his arm round my shoulder and whispered, 'I love you' and we kissed. Funny, it was kind of sexy, the smoky taste in our mouths. After that he insisted I roll all his cigarettes, made me his fag wallah, said I needed the practice. It was a good night. We didn't stay late, there was that stupidly early start dictated by the tides. And anyway we had other things on our minds.
Suffice it to say Cap'n Luke did roger the cabin boy. Good and proper. Afterwards, of course, he wanted a smoke.
“Hey, that's my job.” I said, taking the tobacco tin from him. It was kind of tricky rolling a cigarette in bed, leaning on my side with Luke distracting me pressed up against my back. Still I managed. When I turned back he reached for the cigarette in my hand.
“Uh huh, you just lie back there.”
I'd never let Luke smoking stop me kissing him but I'd discovered that it was so much nicer if I'd smoked. And anyway there was something romantic about lighting his cigarette. He seemed to appreciate it, watching me closely, so maybe I put on a bit of a show. You know, the inhale that gathers smoke into your mouth, head tilted back slightly on the exhale. Then I placed the cigarette to his lips. I was much more conscious of the way it warmed in my fingers as he took a drag. It was kind of intimate, maybe even a bit sexy. I let him take over smoking and nestled into his arm. And I didn't mind at all when, communicating just by looks he put the cigarette to my lips. Its right what he'd said. Hand rolled cigarettes, unfiltered, are nothing like ordinary cigarettes. They produce so much more smoke somehow, so much less resistance on the draw. Add to that how much stronger it was and with just two drags I knew I'd had a smoke. Felt that comforting glow. I'd have to be careful. Basically I'd stopped my flirtation with smoking the year before because I could feel I was getting to like it too much. But hey, it was only two cigarettes. One and a half really. Feeling very mellowed by drink and good sex we drifted to sleep in each other's arms.]]> Wed, 12 May 2010 09:51:44 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1794 Inked http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1793
“Come on one last shot and we go.”
“I dunno Just.”
“Hey, you're not still getting cold feet.”
“Oh no, I'm fine. You're the one planning on getting a permanent tattoo, and you're already pissed.”
“I am not pissed. Anyway, it'll dull the pain. Come on, down in one.”
I was having doubts whether it was a good idea having Daz along for moral support. All he seemed to do was try and talk me out of it. But I knew he'd go along. Sure enough as I did he knocked back the shot in one. Tasted like cough medicine this time.
“Right I'm ready.”
I got out the card to check the address one more time.
“You sure you want to go to this place. Hardly the best part of town.”
“Whole place is a dump, you know that. Anyway, you saw that guy last night. You know I've always wanted a tattoo, but its got to be the best.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We got up to go. Such a wuss Daz, shocked he was when I went up to that guy to ask where he'd got his tat, but... god it was the best, vivid, sharp. I knew I had to have one like it. Looked sexy as fuck on him too. Not that I got anywhere with him. Other than getting that card from the place where he'd had it done.
Daz was right about the area though. Wasn't so far from the gay student pub we'd been drinking at, and that's hardly posh, but shit. Seemed like every front yard had to have a mattress or fridge dumped in it. Rubbish pouring out of the bins. Paint peeling on every door. We passed a corner shop with mesh on the windows. Not the safest streets for two gay boys but it was the middle of the day. What's the worst that could happen? Hmm, when a bunch of chavs burst out of one doorway, lighting cigarettes and probably off their heads judging from the other smoke smell lingering I thought, OK, the worst is probably getting the shit beaten out of us. But apart from nasty looks they left us alone. Get a lot of students round there of course, maybe we didn't stand out.
“Shit Just, are you sure?”
We'd arrived at the tattoo place. Mesh on the windows there too. There was a guy stood in the doorway smoking, big as in fat, too much white skin showing under the tee shirt stretched over his belly. From the quantity of tattoos on his arms and neck I had a nasty feeling this was the 'artist'.
“Hello boys.” he said, smiling. Not a nice smile. The look that went with it was worse, like he knew I was gay, knew exactly what kind of 'disgusting' stuff I might get up to. Its not anything I'm into but I couldn't help thinking about fisting, and what big meaty hands and forearms he'd got. “What you want?”
“I want a tattoo.” I said, my voice sounded just a bit loud and I couldn't help thinking what else would I be doing there?
“Know what you want?” he asked, as if I wouldn't, and carried on smoking to let me know his cigarette was more important.
“Yeah. I want this design round my navel.”
I handed him the glossy print I'd done that morning. That was the other thing, over night I'd had this dream and knew exactly the design I wanted. I did it on illustrator first thing while I could still see it in my minds eye. Perfect.
“Looks a bit gay.”
“Yeah, well I'm more than a bit gay myself. Think you can do it?” I'd had enough of his attitude.
“Yeah, I can do it. 40 quid.”
“35.” Actually 40 was cheap but...
“40. OK?”
“Yeah.”
“In there. Your boyfriend going to hold your hand?”
“He stays.” I said, though I can see Daz would rather be anywhere else.
“Lets get started.”
The inside was no more pleasant than the outside. Grimy lino, very little light made it through the grubby windows, his chair probably came from a barber's with split black vinyl. There were a few heavy metal posters on the walls. Some biker pics. All showing tattoos, but not his.
“How'd you find me?”
“Saw someone with one of your tats, he gave me a card.”
“Lets see.”
I handed it over, it looked small in his hand, but there was something delicate the way he turned it over in his fingers.
“OK. Take your shirt off and sit.”
It was none too hot in there and my nipples were hard. Now it came to it I was feeling nervous and a little excited.
“How long's it going to be?”
“This,” he handled my artwork like it was a turd, “half an hour, tops.” He picked up the needle thing, ran it a moment, the buzz made me tense just a bit.
“Stay very still. If you need to cough tell me otherwise, shut up.”
“OK.”
The buzzing started again. I wanted to take one last look. I liked my belly, flat with a honey tan. I was never going to look the same again.
“Don't look. Don't move. Just keep your eyes on one spot on the ceiling.”
“OK.” I said, taking a last look all the same.
God that ceiling. His 'parlour' had been a Victorian house at one time, there were 'original features' and very un-original anaglypta, very stained, peeling. There was a horrible fascination to it. Then he started. It didn't hurt exactly but it stung, and it built. He seemed to move quickly, surely, wiping quite often. So maddening that I couldn't look, see it developing. I could see why it's addictive though. I mean I was really doing something, it mattered and it wouldn't have been so good if it didn't hurt a bit. I even felt like I'd earned a bit of his respect by keeping so still. It was vaguely horny enduring it, thinking what it'd look like really in the flesh.
“You're done.”
“Cool.”
Then I looked.
“Oh wicked. Daz.”
It was amazing, so bright, so sharp, standing out against the slightly reddened skin around.
“40 quid.”
“Oh, yeah.” I got up, got my wallet from my back pocket.
“No, don't put your shirt on yet.” he said when he took the two twenties. Then he gave me some clear ointment to put on every hour or two for the next few days. It felt soothing, a little warm.
“Make sure it doesn't get dry, don't want you shitting up my work.”
“I won't. It's...”
“Yeah, yeah. If you need to clean it use wet wipes.”
“Is it OK to, you know, wear clothes? And what about sleeping?”
“Cling-film.”
“Cling film?”
“Yeah. Put some of that on and wrap it round. Skinny runt like you won't use much.”
“Er, thanks. What about showers?”
“Many as you like, but no soap. Gel's OK. Now fuck off.”
This time he meant it nicely. I know it's a cliché about rites of passage, but somehow I knew I'd taken it like a man. I felt different. He followed us to the door, getting a cigarette out already. Daz of course couldn't get out fast enough. Well, neither could I in a way.
“Oh wow, look at that, isn't that fucking amazing.” I'd got my shirt back on but left it unbuttoned and hanging open, the cool air feeling good against my skin.
“Yeah, it's... great.”
I could tell it wasn't that he didn't like it. Liked it too much maybe. But then he hadn't had the balls. Still, he had sat there through it.
“Thanks mate. Bet you were bored out of your skull. I owe you one.”
“You owe me three or four.”
“Now?”
“Fuck no. Loser. Tonight.”
“Yeah, all right. Better be getting back then.”
Daz and me were in the same halls at _______ Uni. Got lucky. We were in one of the new ones. Single rooms. En suite showers. And a kitchen on each corridor when you wanted to hang out with someone. Some people even cooked. OK, the Chinese cooked brilliantly. Daz and me put frozen pizzas in the oven.
“You want a coffee?” I asked when we got in.
“Nah. I'm shitted. Going to crash for a bit.”
Sounded like a good idea to me. I don't usually drink that much in the day. Night yeah. Not the day. I lay down on the bed, admiring my belly. I mean it was fantastic. He'd really got what I wanted. It was like a sun design. Outlined in black, like a ring round my belly button and then twelve fat stylised rays curling out from it. What made it 'a bit gay' was each of those rays was filled with a different rainbow colour. I loved it. The way he did it was even better than my artwork. It glowed, the curves were just right, alive. It almost moved. I ran my fingers lightly over it. Couldn't wait for someone to kiss it. I was getting kind of excited just looking at it and eased my hand into my pants. Quick wank and a kip would do very nicely. Shit. I got up and went out to get some cling film.
Luckily they had it in the little supermarket across the road. With cling-film, wet wipes and a snickers bar and a can of diet coke I headed back, more ready than ever for that wank. Good having your own space. I stripped off completely and looked myself over in the mirrors in the bathroom. OK so I use the gym a bit, swim, even used a tanning booth a couple of times to get a head start. I knew in early May we might get a few days warm enough to pick up some real rays but I didn't want to inflict pale skin on the public, you never know who's watching. Is it vain to think I look good? Of course only those who get to know me very well know I shave too. Well, fuck it, it looks hot. Feels hot. And it's only considerate when some guy wants to suck you off. Can't say I've had any complaints. But fuck, the tat, that really set it all off. Kind of set me off too. Well, shit, that's what it was for. To look sexy. And it did. Now I'm not massive, but my dick is quite long. Long enough to just reach up to the lower rays on my tat. Privately that was a thrill. I hoped pre-cum was good for tattoos. Bound to be, and cum was probably better. I didn't find out then. I was standing, looking at my tat when I shot my load over the tiled floor. I grabbed a quick shower. Feeling loose, warm and still a bit drunk I rubbed on some of the clear stuff and, feeling a bit of a dick, wrapped myself in cling-film Then I lay on the bed and was out like a light.

Dreams are funny things. I mean. My tattoo design had come to me in a dream. And it came back then. Kind of the same only more so. Even in my dream I knew now it was real and that made it better. More powerful. It was like I was looking down at it and it almost moved, the rainbow colours swirling round. It was a dream and soon the were swirling, drawing me in. Now I have no idea why that should be hot. But I woke well horned up. Maybe it's just 'cos I'm 18. Or 'cos I was still pumped up with endorphins from getting tattooed. I don't know. Don't care really. All that mattered was I was up for another wank. I pulled down the covers to see my tat was still really there. I lost the cling film and got to work and soon had it well covered with spunk. Quick shower and then I put some of the stuff on. That felt nice, soothed the slight stinging and felt all warm. It was turning dark so I dropped the blinds, dressed and headed out to the kitchen see what was happening. Got plenty of attention for the tat of course. Most of it good. A few, eughs, but can't please everyone. My folks for instance probably wouldn't get it, they couldn't understand when I got my ears pierced. I suppose they really wouldn't get my latest, which was thinking the tat could really do with a ring through my belly button to set it off. Oh well, it's my body. It was the usual Saturday, drinking, clubbing. Ran into the guy with the tat again. He liked what I'd got done but when I saw him heading out pretty regularly for a smoke I crossed him off my list. I won't kiss and ashtray no matter how gorgeous the body its attached too. Plenty more men in there, but as it happened I didn't get lucky. Well, I wasn't feeling quite sure, wanted my tat to settle down a bit...

And now this is where it starts to get weird. OK so I was pretty much off my face but just after I'd had a last piss and was putting some more gunk on my tat before wrapping myself in cling-film for the night it really got to looking like that tat was moving, the rays weaving, like in my dream. I stared and it kind of got a bit hypnotic, but then the room was none too steady. I shook my head, unwisely, and decided I really needed to get some sleep.

I woke at some ungodly hour, like 8 o'clock, needing a piss badly. Though that wasn't so easily taken care of. I was as they say piss hard. By dint of thinking about the essay I really ought to write later that day I got it down and relieved myself. Then I drank plenty of water against the time when I was fully sober I headed back to bed. Shame to waste a hard on though, it came back soon enough. Now I like a wank as much as the next lad, more possibly, but that one was good. You know how you sometimes imagine there's someone else's hand there, well, half awake as I was I got that. Or another hand. Some very nice, wandering sensation anyway, so it wasn't just a run of the mill wank but something hotter, really nice. I was actually moaning when I shot a good load. Which meant I had the best kip.
In fact I was feeling great when I got up. Caught myself singing in the shower, like I do when I've had a good shag. And so, all right, I got a bit carried away. I like to be clean. Mens obscenus in corpore sano is my motto. Dirty mind in a healthy body. And a boy's hole needs special attention. And of course a finger feels nice there sometimes. A finger or two. Before I knew it I was getting that wandering hands feeling again, eyes shut under the hot water I got off another load. Not unheard of, though I don't remember having two such stellar wanks on the trot before.
Of course you don't question these things. Life goes on. I got up, dressed, ate, drank coffee and hung out for a while. Eventually I couldn't avoid making a start on that essay. Surprisingly I stuck to it, with breaks to renew the lotion on my tat, of course. And to eat, though I didn't feel that hungry. Truth to tell I felt a bit wired, like I'd been drinking too much coffee but what the hell, I actually got some work done. Funny to hit Sunday evening without that sense of dreading my Monday tutorial. I wasn't so sure about this virtuous streak. For one I felt really restless. Could have gone on the lash again only every other bugger seemed to be in a last minute panic. Usually that was me, of course. What did people do if they were free on a Sunday? I had no idea. I fancied going down the gym to work off some energy but that was out so I just did some push ups, crunches, stretching and so on in my room till I felt hungry. I'd forgotten to refresh the lotion on my tat, when I did it felt so good. Oddly it felt more than just soothing my skin, I felt a nice warm glow all through my body, ending in my dick as so often happens. Well, there wasn't much else going on. They try and restrict the uni internet access but a sweet IT student showed me how to get round it. An hour or so looking at porn and it cleaned up, wrapped up and got an early night. Funny, I dreamed about the tat again and woke up all horny again. Problems like that I can manage. Another cracker wank and the next thing I was aware of I was almost late for my tutorial.
I'd forgotten to take the lotion with me, so it was a couple of hours later I dived back to rub my tum. Again, really nice. Rubbed my dick too. Well, hey, hormones, can't fight 'em. Still, can't remember being this horned up for a while. I mean, that evening come 9 o'clock I was back on the net into one very horny head space. And I was getting that 'wandering hands' feeling again. Really strong this time, like someone had got their hand round the base of my cock gripping tight, really pushing me to the edge and, well, you know, I looked down – thinking this is going to be one major cum spurt. Well fuck me the tattoo had moved and was round the base of my dick. You can bet I was well freaked. Stood up shouting 'fuck' and I could see it there, pulsing, feel it pulsing. Like even stronger, as if it knew I was watching, which is stupid, obviously, but fuck it, it felt like that fucker was enjoying getting me off – 'cos it did. I'm stood there and that ring of ink is pulsing round my dick and fuck it, it felt good. I couldn't help myself. I shot a fucking torrent of cum.
Fucking hell though. I'm pacing round my room thinking, what the fuck's going on. I headed in the bathroom, looking in the mirror and I could see it move back into place. Oh shit and fuck, I'm losing my marbles. That couldn't have happened. Of course, the cum sprayed over the desk told another story. I did the only sensible thing. I went straight out and had a drink or four. Not that I said anything to anyone. I might be going mad but I wasn't that mad.
When I got back I felt better, not great, but better. Still kind of tense though. Then of course time for bed. Somewhat tentatively I went into the bathroom, stripped and applied the lotion and the cling film. Again it felt really soothing. My tension eased. I tried to ignore the returning blood to my dick and went to bed. I was just drifting off when I felt a disturbing sensation. It felt just like someone was running their fingers over my dick and I was getting hard. Obviously at first it just felt nice, really nice. Naturally being half asleep my mind supplied an image of who might be doing it. The tattoo man, not the slob who did it, the inspiration. He was hot. Though in the video that was running in my mind he was smoking. Still, it did it for me. I was well hard and woke up enough to help things along. Only then, of course, I got thinking, had to look. Fuck and shit. I swear to god that my ring shaped sun tattoo was running up and down my dick and I could feel it. It was distractingly good.
“For fuck's sake stop it.”
I felt a bit of an idiot, talking it like that. As if that'd work, right. Only it did, in a way. The bastard thing got more worked up. Or got me more worked up. You know, faster, tighter.
“Oh fuck it, just stop.”
Wrong thing to say. It sped up more. I tell you I was fucking scared. At the same time I was getting more and more turned on. It was good. I mean each time that band of coloured ink moved down my cock it twitched up. And there was like, you know, the heat building in my body, spreading down and out to balls, belly, arse.
“Please stop. Stop now.”
Even I didn't completely believe myself. And the ink's response? It split. I saw two little suns flow up my chest to my nipples. Fuck and shit, my nipples are so wired in. I couldn't help having the thought, this is going to be good, even though I still was badly freaked. And I soon realised there was a third son of the sun when it hit my hole.
“Oh fuck.”
Shit, I better be quiet. But, Christ. It was some work out. I was kind of arching my body, going with it. And I wasn't even touching myself. Touching myself. I was holding on to the bed. Fuck it was some kind of torture. Almost. The talk about exquisite torture. I think this was what they meant. I couldn't do anything. It was all being done to me. It didn't matter whether I tried to fight it or I tried to go with it, the feelings just got more and more intense. Of course eventually I came. Boy did I cum. Everywhere. Fucking mind blowing. I looked over at the clock to see nearly an hour had gone by. Shit. I was drenched in sweat, a really powerful musty smell coming off me, a rank, animal sex smell.
God it felt good. It was fucking weird and twisted and scary but my body just loved it. Reluctantly I looked down to see what was going on with that ink now. Jesus, the thing was a fucking comedian. It seemed to have returned home, round my navel, except it had exuded a couple of arms. One was up behind its head, like it was laying back, relaxed and satisfied (I knew the feeling) the other seemed to be holding a narrow rectangle with a dirty end. Then it brought it to my navel, the whole, its mouth, so to speak and I got it. The end of the rectangle glowed red briefly then plumes of black spread from its mouth. It was miming a post-orgasmic cigarette as if to say, that was sooo good. Fucking deep weirdness. I tried to think what to do, problem was I was so thoroughly shagged I felt right into a deep sleep.

I woke suddenly with a stabbing pain in my stomach. I'd turned over. Shit the tattoo. I'd ripped the cling film off earlier and forgotten about it. Half asleep I got up and restored the covering. As I rubbed on the lotion I got that warm, peaceful sexy feeling again.
“Steady boy, I've got to sleep sometime.”
Of course, sleep doesn't always mean an end to sex. I had a dream about tattoo boy, fucking me, smoking, which seemed so sexy in the dream. I think the ink may have had something to do with it 'cos I woke up shooting my load all over the sheets – I'd been humping the bed in my sleep. Of course it was still pretty dark so there was no way of knowing for sure. As I dropped off again, wondering if it was back round my navel having another smoke.

So that was when I first knew for sure my life had got deeply fucking weird. Twisted, even sexy but still bloody weird. I had no idea where it might go. And if you'd have told me I wouldn't have believed it.
“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” I said to it, as I applied lotion after my morning shower.
Well, seemed it was well and truly out of hiding now. I looked astonished in the mirror as it quickly flowed and reformed as two boys, one fucking the other. I couldn't help laughing. “And which one's me?”
The bottom flashed comically.
“Good choice.” I said. “Not always that easily arranged.”
Fuck me if it didn't form itself into a dildo and started vibrating.
“Oh, fucking hell. Yeah, right.”
Got me thinking though. Only then it flowed down onto my dick and in moments I was pointing skywards.
“Oh fuck no. Later, right. I've got to go out. You know.”
I don't think it did. But I dressed anyway and fortunately before I had to face the world it seemed to have got the message. Not that it gave up entirely. I kept getting distracting sensations now and again. And OK, I gave in to temptation after lunch. I'd slipped into the bogs to renew the lotion and, well... Concerned about time I took over dick duties whispering, “Look, I can do that bit, if you just want to...” it got the message, nips and hole got the treatment and with my hand on the tiller, so to speak, I rubbed out a quick but still exceptional load. Fortunately I realised in time I'd better aim, so the cum was all over the walls rather than my shirt and hair. Yeah, it was that good. Before I got to cleaning up I noticed there was a change to its post-orgasmic show. It was still 'smoking' but then so was an oddly coloured stick figure. Then I got it, it wanted me to smoke.
“Oh, ho. No way pal.”

OK, so I'm sure you're thinking I should have stopped way before now. I mean this was weird shit and I didn't know what I was getting in to. Probably you're right. All I can say is I'm only flesh and blood, though at the time it felt like I was all cum and bone.
My excuse? It felt good. Bloody good. Too fucking good and, of course it was kind of addictive. So for the next week or so I was getting in to this hot sex, just me and the ink. Well, all right, I got a rubber friend too. It's not as good as really getting fucked well, but it is available. 24/7. Frankly I was having a ball in my private way. I mean, sure, I kept wondering what I should do about it. I could hardly got to the tattooist and say what was happening could I? I did wonder if I might work on tattoo boy, but I didn't see him. Not then anyway. Meanwhile why should I worry, I was getting off big time. Getting into it more and more too. Not that it wasn't disturbing sometimes. Problem was, the more I got into it the more easily I got turned on. And, as you know, that fucker had a mind of its own. Had a way of catching me unawares, like some slutty hot lover who gets off on nearly getting caught. Well, what can I say? I did have some amazing quickies. In bogs mostly, between lectures or in the bar when I was supposed to be getting a round, on a train even. And once in the cinema, I didn't even make to the bogs. I came in my pants. Fucking weird, it wasn't a hot film, just a thriller.
Or sometimes it'd be milder, a nice horny feeling sometimes in lectures or walking along and I knew that tattoo was up to its tricks. I got to liking it. And it was my little secret. It never seemed anything other than ordinary when anyone else could see. Though with one fuck buddy I'm pretty sure it was adding it's extra something to my hole while I got fucked.
Eventually though there was one thing I couldn't ignore. It seemed to think smoking was sexy. Aside from the little cartoons inviting me to smoke after sex (and sometimes before) I discovered I could always get that extra warm glow by hanging out with the smokers outside college. And I guess here's one of the weird things. I mean I have never been remotely interested in smoking. Always hated the smell. It just seemed a pointless, stupid thing to do. And yet I couldn't resist the temptation sometimes to hang out with the smokers. So I kind of got used to the smell some. And of course it does look kind of cool, if you don't think about what it really is. Of course I wasn't going to smoke myself. No way did I want an addiction like that.

So the days passed in a bit of a blur of copious masturbation. Middle of the week I ran out of lotion. I didn't need it any more anyway, it had healed beautifully, but I'd got to quite liking putting it on. It was kind of a calming ritual. And I suspected my tat was always more frisky afterwards. I even missed it some times. After meals funnily enough, I'd find myself reaching for it and the remembering it wasn't there. It even crossed my mind to get some more, which was daft. I could just see the look on his face. That tattooist I mean. I'd feel an absolute burke asking for more lotion. I suppose I could get another tattoo, but did I really want more weirdness?

Mostly though I was feeling pretty good. People commented. I had that healthy glow, very like when you're getting plenty of good sex. Which I guess I was, even if it was in a weird way. I still kept an eye out for tattoo boy. Aside from my lust-filled dreams about him he was the only person I might be able to ask about what was going on. But I didn't spot him anywhere till pretty late on Friday night.

We'd got one of those early hot spells I'd been hoping for, my tan was coming on and Daz and me were dancing in our usual club. The place was heaving and I'd got my top off showing off as usual. Suddenly there's tattoo boy on the floor. After a bit I reckoned he was working his way over. Soon I was sure of it. And he was coming on to me. Well, I can flirt with the best of them. So we're dancing together, putting on a bit of a show. Getting closer and stuff. He's behind me, and his hand comes round my waist. Rubs over my belly. Kind of hot, but what no one but me would know was he rubbed lotion on me. That lotion. Very nice. My ink seemed to like it. I turned round a bit quick. He smiled a wicked smile. Rubbed his own bare belly and up over his tattoo (it was kind of a tribal thing, up his chest and round the side). Fuck, there was some sexual heat in that. We carried on a bit longer then he leans in close, and over the music I just hear him saying, “Let's go.”
Why not, I'm thinking. Then I remember why not, 'cos he'll light up a fag soon as we're outside. Which he does. And offers me one.
“No thanks. I don't smoke.”
“Really?”
And he moves off. Fuck and shit, I'm thinking, there's my shag for the night gone. I look over, and he's waiting, “You coming?”
Soon will be, I think.
As I guessed he must be a few years older, and have some high paying job 'cos he had a city centre flat in one of those converted mill buildings. Nice, though you could tell a smoker lived there, plenty of ashtrays and a lingering smell. Pity, 'cos he was pretty hot and I was well up for it.
“Drink?”
“Sure, thanks.”
I don't know what I was expecting but what I got was a brandy, and a very large one. Smooth to. Went to my head in a very nice way. I had a suspicion that ink was going other places, also in a nice way. Good job nothing was showing. Except maybe for a bulge. Well he can look at that all he wants I thought.
“You want a cigarette?”
“No.”
“Sure? I mean, its only us two.”
“No really.”
“Oh go on, I bet you've smoked sometimes, eh?”
“Well no actually.” I cursed myself. I have a theory that of all the passion killing words 'actually' is the worst.
“Really.” Well he didn't seem put off, I couldn't get why he was pushing smoking though, “I'd have thought a fun loving guy like you would have at least tried it.”
“Well I haven't.”
“Why not? I mean, you don't seem the 'my body is my temple' type.”
“Hardly.”
“Didn't think so. I'd have said you'd be up for anything if it feels good. You certainly drink enough.”
“Well yeah.”
“And you've taken other things, you know, to see what its like. Es maybe.”
“Sure.”
“Poppers?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” This was going all right, “So why not smoking? It does feel good you know.”
“Maybe. But, I don't like the smell.”
“Ah, but its different actually smoking. The taste's nothing like the smell you know. So come on, everyone tries it sometime.”
“I'm not everyone.”
“I'm sure, still I'll bet you've been just a little bit curious to know what it's like?”
“Not really.”
“Not even to please your ink.”
“My.... What... How....”
“We've got the same kind of tattoo, remember.”
“And yours...”
“Is very excited at the moment. Isn't yours.”
“Er, yeah.”
“And you have figured it wants you to smoke.”
“Well, yeah, but...”
“And you never tried it?”
“No.”
“Well, you really should. It likes it. Really likes it. And, believe me, you'll like that.”
“You mean...”
“Trust me, its sensational. Look, why don't we get more comfortable, you seem a little cramped.”
He ran his hand lightly over the bulge in my pants. I was fully hard now, all through this conversation the sensations in my dick had been getting stronger and I was getting drawn into the horny zone. Even more so as he eased open my flies, slipped down my jeans and pants.
“Very nice.” he said, my dick was standing to attention, rainbow colours flowing over it.
“Does yours?...”
“Oh yes.” he stood, quickly dropped his trousers to reveal his cock. It too was standing up, very hard as ink, mostly black, writhed over it.
“Oh wow...”
“Yeah, feels good doesn't it.”
“Hmm.”
I stood, pressing up against him, kissing – his mouth tasted strongly from smoking but I was getting so turned on I didn't care. After a little while he broke us apart.
“Come on, it loves it when you smoke. Just try it.”
I didn't know what to say, but I didn't resist when he pushed me down onto the leather sofa and sat astride me, he balls pushed against mine.
“Trust me, you're going to love this.” he said, as he took two cigarettes from the pack and tossed it aside. “Its easy, you just suck in a little smoke, then breath it in. Watch.”
And I did, there was something very sexy about it as he lit his cigarette and when he inhaled the smoke then rocked his hips forwards slightly and arched his back a little, tilting his head to exhale upward I could feel such a rush of sexual heat where our bodies were pressed together.
“Now your turn.” he placed the cigarette to my lips, “Breathe out.” then he flicked the lighter and brought up the flame. “Relax, just take it nice and easy.”
So I sucked gently and saw the tip of my cigarette take light, the taste of the smoke was intense and he was right it was totally different. “Now inhale.” I can hardly describe how sexy this was. I could feel how turned on he was getting to see me smoke. It was so absorbing I hardly thought about it, just breathed in and then the pleasure exploded in my body, my dick.
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah, that's it” I hardly noticed he was he gripped both our cocks together as he went for another drag and I followed.
“Nice and slow now, then breathe it in, deep as you can.”
Hard as it was for me to imagine that second drag was even better. I didn't really need to think about it, it seems like I knew what to do to smoke. And I wanted to.
“Oh yeah, that's so good, right?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You want to get off?”
“Too fucking right.”
“Good.” he lifted himself, shifted slightly and I just lay back taking it in as he dragged deeply on his cigarette once, twice, three times before inhaling the smoke, filling his lungs before he sat down on me, easily taking all of me deep in him, exhaling a huge cloud of smoke as he went.
“Fucking hell.”
“You like that?” he was rocking his hips now and it felt fucking amazing.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Good, you just smoke. Let me do the rest.”
I was hardly going to complain. He was fucking amazing and I think maybe my ink was going overtime too. In no time I could feel it coming on, like I was near the edge already, then I remembered to smoke. I dragged long as I could, inhaled...
“That's it, now breathe in deeply.”
I tried it, it was amazing, the cool air soothing my throat and the smoke feeling warm almost solid in my lungs and when I exhaled such a big cloud it was kind of satisfying, but then there was the rush. It was like it turned up the volume on all my senses.
“Getting close?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep smoking, use the smoke, you know what to do.”
And I did. I inhaled much faster and deeper, felt my dick go rock hard at the hit in my lungs and he started to really ride me.
“Oh yeah, that's it, again.”
Faster this time I inhaled deep, breathed my deepest then forced out another cloud of smoke.
“Oh yeah, that's so good. You nearly there?”
“Yeah.”
“One more drag, really big, really deep and hold it.”
I did as he said, feeling the tension in my dick building like a steel spring pulled back till breaking point as he dragged deep and hard on his cigarette, still bucking up and down on me and wanking his dick hard then pulling all that smoke within him. An agonising moment as we held our breaths and I could feel myself going past the point of no return and suddenly the smoke burst from his lungs with a moan, spunk shot from his dick and I felt my load go with a big gasp of smoke. My body jerked again and again as my cum slicked his arse and his spunk flew everywhere.
“Oh god.”
He leant forward, we kissed holding our sweating bodies close together.
“Now that is why I wanted you to smoke.”
“Yeah, I know now.”]]> Mon, 10 May 2010 03:47:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1793 New Sites That May Be Of Interest http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1791
http://mensmokersuk.ning.com/
http://mensmokersinternational.socialparody.com/

]]> Sat, 08 May 2010 02:50:37 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1791 Semi By The Sea! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1790
Driving through the rush hour traffic in his new company car, he looked at the clock and sighed. The traffic was very heavy this evening, and he was longing for a smoke. Being a company car, smoking was strictly forbidden in it, and although he could normally cope with the 30 minute drive, tonight was proving a real challenge to him. Swearing wildly at the BMW driver who had just cut him up, Pete turned off the motorway and sped along the A-road towards his home town.

Reaching home, Pete parked in his driveway, and entered his new house. Number 35 had been built in the thirties, and was a semi-detached 3 bed house on a pleasant tree lined road. Entering the house, he picked up his post, loosened his tie, and poured himself a drink. Settling in his favourite chair, he pulled a fresh packet of Embassy from his pocket and lit up eagerly, savouring the smoke and holding it deep in his lungs; feeling it calm him, feeling it feed him. Bills, bills, bills, that's all he had received since moving in - that and election manifestos, which went straight into the recycling. Yet another letter for the previous occupant, a Mr D Wilkins. Putting that to one side, he took a final drag from his fag and went upstairs to shower.

Freshly showered, Pete put on a pair of fresh boxers, and because the evening was a little chilly, decided to put on a pair of socks as well - black cotton with a small logo on the side. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. Not bad for 34. Ok, so hair thinning on top, and maybe a few pounds extra, but good looking in a boy next-door way.
Pausing to pick up his fags, he went into the kitchen and started to get his meal. Whilst it was cooking, he took out a number 1 and lit it. Inhaling deeply, he looked out of the window onto his back garden. The lawn would need cutting tomorrow and the hedge could do wiith a trim too. Opening the window to let the smoke out, he absent mindedly flicked the ash into the sink. Christ! he thought. I'm not at Uni any more! He found the morning's ashtray on the kitchen table, and ground his fag out in it - adding it to the 30 or so from the previous night and this morning's efforts. Sparking up again, a wry smile on his face as his dick started to twitch, he finished preparing the meal, and sat down to eat it.

As soon as he finished eating, reaching for his lighter and fags, he leant back in his chair. Right hand wreathed in smoke whilst his left started to stray to his crotch, gently massaging the bulge there. His uncut 6.5 inches began to respond; slowly filling with Pete's nicotine-laced blood. Double drag to help it on its way as he closed his eyes, imagining 1 of his new colleagues there with him, both of them bonding over a smoke. Although he knew Martin was married with two kids, he felt sure that he was bi - had seen the way he looked at him whilst he smoked his cigar when they had nipped out on a smoke break at work. Apparently he had been a 30-a-day smoker, but had switched to the cigars in an effort to cut down. From the way he greedily inhaled every drag, it looked like Maritn was fighting a losing battle.

Tall, tanned and slim, he was the sort of guy Pete went for. Dressed in grey trousers with handmade shoes also made him Pete's ideal man. Pete pictured Martin in front of him with a raging hard-on. Dick straight out in front of him. Wearing just socks and a smile!

Sucking the last goodness from his Embassy, he drew another from the pack and lit it from the nearly spent one. He had smoked this way for years, but only at home. When he was out with his mates, he left a couple of minutes between smokes. Correction. HAD smoked that way, until the smoking ban came into force 3 years ago.

His right hand was now working overtime of its own accord. Rubbing the hood over his cock head, feeling it take him closer to the explosion which must surely follow. He pulled his boxers off, leaving his socks on, and, closing his eyes again, imagined Martin there. Martin smoking his cigars and stroking with him, swapping smoke, stroking each others dicks. Chaining the Embassy number 1's now. Kitchen filling with smoke. Lungful after lungful. Feeling it sate his body and help him climax. Wanking furiously now. Another double pump and it was over. Fat drops of spunk spilling from his knob, over his hand and over the floor.

Coming down to earth again, Pete shook another Embassy from the rapidly emptying pack. Lighting it and inhaling, he started to clean up the floor. With his uncut knob now deflating, he gave it one last tug and licking the last drops of cum from his hand, pulled his boxers up. He had just flicked his ash into the ashtray when the door bell rang.

Embassy in hand, Pete walked down the hall. Black socks gliding over the parquet floor, and white boxers covering his taut ass..............
]]> Wed, 05 May 2010 11:34:16 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1790 Get A Straight London Guy Hooked Again http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1788
i want to meet up, chat over beer, and for you to chain reds in front of me.
i will weaken at the sight of beautiful men smoking and tempting me.

at the time of your choosing, place a lit red between my lips and watch me yield.

you should be between 30 and 40. (roughly - i'm not going to check your ID!)

send me a message and some incendiary pics - blue.cloud@live.co.uk

yours, and gasping...]]> Tue, 04 May 2010 01:27:11 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1788 Why Not The Real Thing? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1787
]]> Sun, 02 May 2010 12:35:51 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1787 Is It Just Australia? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1786
Things in Australia have become absolutely ridiculous now; our packs are totally covered with graphic health warnings, we have graphic anti-smoking TV commercials airing constantly, anti-smoking billboards, smoking is banned anywhere indoors and in just about all public places, cigarettes are now not allowed to be displayed in shops and must be sold under the counter or from within closed cupboards, you can be fined for smoking in a car with a minor, they've now gone and fucked up the smokes with this fire-standards compliant shit, and on top of all this we are taxed massive amounts - in fact as of tomorrow paying AU$15+ for a pack of smokes. Now the government has decided that smokes will also be sold in plain packs with no logos, no colors, no branding, just a box with a health warning and in a standard small font the name of the brand.



How can I be the smokin man I want to be when the government insists on destroying everything!

My question is - what's it like in other countries? Is it just Australia or is this madness occurring everywhere? What happened to the rights of the individual to decide what they can and can't do?]]> Thu, 29 Apr 2010 04:10:18 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1786 Newbie Smokers And Addiction http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1785
When we went out again a week or so later, I offered him another cigarette which he quickly rejected and said how worried he was about getting hooked. I wanted to ask him about his concern, but backed off. Since then I have heard so many newbies saying the same thing. Any ideas as to why? For me, being hooked on nicotine and the feel of smoke in my lungs are the most enjoyable aspects of my habit. I don't ever think about being addicted as my body always tellings me when it is time for another smoke.

Is there anything I could do to encourage my friend to try smoking again or should I remain silent on the topic?]]> Wed, 28 Apr 2010 14:07:04 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1785 Nyc/greenwich Village Area http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1782 Hey guys 28yo old reds smoker here, looking for other reds smoker in the NYC area. I am down there every Sunday afternoon and Night, and was interested in meeting up. Thu, 22 Apr 2010 12:11:03 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1782 What Keeps You Smoking? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1781
Do you think you could quit smoking without the fetish? Has the fetish ever caused an attempt to quit to fail? Or would you rather say that it's the addiction that keeps you smoking and could you enjoy (?) the fetish as much if you weren't a smoker.

My personal answer to these questions: It's the addiction. I tried to quit once, because my non-smoking boyfriend asked me to. I'm so glad I got rid of him! ;-) But during that attempt, I wasn't thinking about sex or fetishes. I was dealing with a body craving for nicotine and... I couldn't.]]> Thu, 22 Apr 2010 11:08:29 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1781 Manchester Pup http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1780
www.ipup.me]]> Tue, 20 Apr 2010 08:15:56 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1780 Which Came First? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1779 Did you start smoking because you had a fetish, or did you develop the fetish after you started smoking? Sat, 17 Apr 2010 14:29:11 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1779 Who Was Your Male Smoking Influence ? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1778 Thu, 15 Apr 2010 14:27:12 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1778 Smoking Men International http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1776 Ok ok they aint bad at all lol Thu, 15 Apr 2010 06:21:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1776 Torturing Tommy http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1773
I've written a story about a long-time fantasy where I'm bound and someone is gently torturing me with a lit cigarette and forcing me to do all sorts of "disgusting" things. This fantasy started in high school, but other than being called a fag, nothing like this story ever happened. My fantasy doesn't involve any serious harm, just very brief touches of a cigarette -- no marks, no scars, just gentle stimulation. I haven't seen any stories posted with this theme. If anyone has written any or found any on the site, please let me know.

Constructive comments are welcome.
Enjoy.
W3surfer


Torturing Tommy




Chapter 1

Ohwwww! The handsome 18-year old screamed as the older man thrust his cock deep into the boy's ass. "Take it bitch! You're mine slave to do with as I see fit!" The 35-year old muscled man yelled at the boy through lips holding a smoldering cigarette whose ashes continued to fall on the boy's chest. "I've been wanting a piece of your ass for a long time and now I'm going to take all I want." The boy looked up at his domineering uncle through eyes wet with tears.

Tommy was bound by his hands and feet to the corners of a table in his uncle Richard's basement. He tried to twist away from the brutal thrusting of his uncle, but to no avail. Richard then took the cigarette from his mouth and brought the burning tip to Tommy's left nipple just touching the tender tit, which elicited a shriek from the boy's tense lips. Richard moved the small torch to Tommy's right tit, again causing the boy to struggle uselessly in agony. "Don't uncle Richard, please stop," Tommy whimpered. The boy's struggling and pleading only fueled the older man's desire to use his boy. Richard slammed once more sharply into Tommy and shot his thick cum deep in the boy's ass.

Tommy awoke from his dream, drenched in sweat and his own cum. Why did he keep having this same dream and why did it always cause him to shoot his load? Tommy was straight and had a steady girl friend, Mary, whom he fucked regularly. She was only the latest in a long line of girls he'd gotten in bed. He was about 6 feet tall, chisled handsome face with bright blue eyes and a small dipple on his chin. He was very popular with the girls and was friends with a lot of the guys in his high school. He was on the swim team and was the pitcher for his school's baseball team. Tommy was looking forward to getting out of school and getting a job so he could move out of his parent's house and get his own place.

Later that day at school, Tommy and his buddies, Greg and Steve, were having lunch just off the school grounds in a small woods nearby. Greg was a junior with a killer bod and model-like looks that were framed by his nicely trimmed blonde hair. Steve, like Tommy, had dark hair, which hung to his ears with a thick dark curl just over his soft brown eyes. Steve and Tommy were both seniors and had known each other since grade school. Greg had started in their school in junior high and they had been close friends ever since. Greg pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds and offered one to Steve, who took a deep drag as he lit his smoke. Greg offfered one to Tommy and Tommy just looked at him. "Greg you know I don't smoke, but you keep offering me a ciggarette. What's your problem?" "Yeah, I know, but I keep thinking you'll take me up on it someday. You don't know what you're missing man." Greg then lit his cig and breathed the smoke in Tommy's cute face causing Tommy to cough and fume at Greg's behavior.

"Damn it man, I'm going to fuck you up if you don't stop that shit!" Tommy shot at Greg, then they all broke into laughter. "I'm real horny man, so I just may fuck you up" Greg retorted. Steve saw a 18-year old senior, Dale Stevens walking into the woods about 100 yards away.
"Greg, if you're so horny, why don't you fuck that fag Dale Stevens or make him give you a blow job" Steve asked. Tommy looked over at Dale and for some strange reason he began to get a hard-on. "Yeah Greg, why don't we grab that faggot and get our rocks off?" Greg looked at Tommy and saw that devilish grin he'd come to love. "I could use a nice suck" Greg grinned back at Tommy.

Quietly the three boys walked through the woods towards Dale approaching him from behind. Tommy gave a signal and all three of them jumped Dale tackling him to the ground. Tommy lay on Dale's back as the 18-year old struggled to get away. "Don't fuckin' move faggot" Tommy hissed in his ear. The scared boy was very cute and several inches shorted than his captors. Dale Stevens had been rumored to be gay. He was in the drama club and chorus and was not known to date any of the girls, but seemed to always hang around them laughing and joking with them. One of the guys on the baseball team had told Tommy that Dale gave him a blow job in the park last summer.

"Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way? Tommy asked. Greg quipped, "No matter what you choose fag, it's going to be hard for you." The older guys laughed, causing Dale to get very frightened. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. When he gave Dean Lions a blow job in the park last summer, Dean was aggressive, but not forceful, and certainly didn't rape him. In fact, he and Dean regularly got together for mutual sucking or jacking-off, but Dale had never been fucked.

Steve grabbed Dale's wrists and bound them with Dale's belt. Greg started opening Dale's shirt and unbuttoning his pants. When Dale was stood up he was only wearing his tennis shoes and socks and his white briefs. His shirt had been pulled over his head and covered his bound hands. Steve quickly pulled off Dale's briefs and they led him to a fallen tree about 10 feet away. They pushed him over the tree cross-wise. Greg went to Dale's head and grabbed his chin lifting it up. "Look at me asswipe. I want a BJ and if you use your teeth, I'll punch your lights out!" Tommy went behind Dale and spread his ass cheeks. "I'm going to give you what you've always wanted faggot. Now open up your boypussy and give me a hot ride." "But I've never done that. You'll tear my ass up!" the kid cried out. "Nah, I won't rip your boypussy, because I want it in shape for the next time." Dale was terrified at those words telling him that was only the beginning of a nightmare.

As Greg thrust his hard 7-inch cock through Dale's trembling lips, Tommy leaned down and covered the virgin ass in his spit. Tommy then positioned himself and started taking Dale's cherry. The boy thrashed about trying to get away from the invading 8 1/2 inch cock that was causing him so much pain. Tommy stopped just as soon as the head of his cock pushed through Dale's asslips. He told the boy to relax and push out, like he was taking a shit.
Dale tried to relax and after a minute the pain subsided. Tommy began to push further and after shoving a couple inches into the boy waited until he felt his ass relax. Tommy continued his asault until his balls banged into Dale's. He leaned into Dale's ear and seductively said "You have the tightest hole I've ever had. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you!" With that, Tommy began pounding into Dale with a lust fueled vengeance.

Shortly, Greg yelled as he gripped Dale's head in his hands, "take it all faggot. I'm cumming! You had better swallow every drop of my teen jizz!" As Greg fired rope after rope of thick white cum into Dale's mouth, the boy quickly began to swallow trying to keep up with Greg's flow. Finally, Greg pulled out and Steve took Greg's place. Tommy was thrusting away and slapping Dale's pale bubble butt with his hands. Dale was overwhelmed with being anally and orally raped. He began rubbing his own 6 inch hard cock against the tree bark and shot his own seed, which dripped down to the ground. Tommy and Steve were approaching their own orgasms and simultaneoulsy shot their heavy loads into the writhing boy.

Tommy and Steve pulled out of the boy and stood him up again. Tommy saw the slimy white trail of boy cum dripping down the side of the tree. "OK fag, now get down on your knees and lick up your junk." Dale dropped down and filled with disgust started licking up his teen cum. The three older boys howled in laughter. When he was done, Steve pulled Dale up and unfastened the belt from Dale's wrists and asked "Well fag, aren't you going to thank us for giving you such pleasure?" Dale quietly said "thank you". Tommy corrected him, "that's thank you sirs!" Dale sore and humiliated repeated Tommy's words.

Greg looked at Dale and said, "same time tomorrow, bitch and you'd better be here!" "Yes sir", Dale offered. Then Tommy and his buddies walked off laughing. Tommy turned to his buddies and said, "I don't know guys, I'm not queer, but I sure did enjoy fucking that faggot." "You don't have to be a fag to use one" Greg said. Tommy smiled and continued back to class.



Chapter 2

Richard Davies got out of his shower and toweled his toned 5'8" body. He looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. He massaged his pecs and tweaked his nipples, closing his eyes, thinking about his newphew Tommy. He remembered two weeks ago asking Tommy to help him clean his basement. That was just a ruse to get Tommy over so that Richard could put his plan into action. He'd converted part of his basement to a small dungeon, which was separated with thick walls and a door from the larger room. He had been wanting to fuck his nephew for a while, but when Dale Stevens told him what Tommy and his buddies had done to him, Richard knew he would put a plan into action to get Tommy. Richard had forced Dale to suck him off several times, and was going to fuck Dale, but first he'd get Tommy's cherry. He had obtained some ruhipnol or roofies, which makes a person helpless and often causes them to forget any experiences after taking the drug.

He remembered Tommy getting hot and sweaty moving the boxes Richard had arranged to tire out the boy. Richard took off his shirt and looked at Tommy and said, "it's just us guys Tommy, why don't you cool off and take your shirt off too. I'll get us some beers." Tommy pulled his shirt over his head and continued moving the heavy boxes, while Richard went to his kitchen opening two beers and putting the roofies in the one he'd hand to Tommy. When he handed Tommy his beer, he looked the boy in the eyes and said "cheers!" Tommy returned his toast and gulped down the cold beer.
"That hit the spot!" Richard grinned at his cute nephew and replied, "well hitting the spot is what it's all about." Tommy looked at his uncle after hearing that strange comment and then began to feel the effect of the drug. He began to get light-headed. Richard saw this and told him to lie down, that he'd been working to hard. Tommy dropped into a nearby couch and look at Richard who began walking towards him. As Richard grabbed the button on Tommy's jeans, Tommy tried to raise his hand to stop him, but realized he couldn't move.

Tommy watched in horror as Richard pulled off Tommy's jeans, shoes, and briefs. Tommy sat on the couch wearing only his white socks. Richard then stripped his pants off and Tommy saw that he was not wearing any briefs. What caused him more concern was the hardening of his uncle's thick 10 inch cock. Richard leaned into Tommy's face and grabbed his head pulling the boy's lips to his cock. Tommy tried to struggle to get away, but instead felt his lips part as the huge tool pressed into his young mouth.

Richard reach down to the small table next to the couch and grabbed his cigarettes, lighting one with a deep satisfied drag. He then leaned into Tommy's face and exhaled the thick smoke. Tommy tried to cough, but his mouth was stuffed with his uncle's meat. Tommy had no choice, but to breath in the acrid smoke as his uncle's cock continued to rape his mouth. Richard continued pushing his cock into his nephew's mouth until he reach the boy's throat. He took his right hand and gently squeezed Tommy's jaw as he entered his throat. Tommy started to gag, but his uncle told him to breathe through his nose and relax his throat. "This is going to happen boy! I've been saving my load all week for you, but don't worry, I've got a couple of loads to give you today!"

Tommy's throat stretched as his uncles massive meat filled him. Richard saw the boy's eyes water as he accomadated his cock. Richard took another deep drag and felt his balls contract, getting ready to feed his cute young captive. Richard's head fell back as he felt his cock shot 7 or 8 thick torrents of white sperm into his nephew's hungry throat. Pulling his cock almost all the way out, Richard then continued to dump 2 more ropes of cum into Tommy's mouth, which he watched the boy struggle to swallow. Satiated for the moment, Richard pulled his cock free of Tommy's lips, then leaned down to give him a deep kiss while blowing thick smoke into the boy. Tommy's head swoon with emotions of anger, humiliation and lust.

Richard picked Tommy up and carried him through the door to his "play room". He laid Tommy on his back and began fastening ropes to the boy's arms and legs. He didn't expect Tommy to get away, but thought it better to secure him before he raped his nephew's tight virgin boypussy. Tommy looked into his uncle's eyes and became very worried of what was going to happen.
Richard went to a shelf and took a small leather tawse. He lit another cigarette and brought the whip down on Tommy's chest causing Tommy to writhe in agony. Again and again Richard whipped Tommy's chest, cock, balls, legs and arms. When he was done, he was dripping sweat. He re-tied Tommy's legs pulling them back near to his head. Richard got on the table and coated his thick cock with lube. He lit another smoke and began to enter his nephew's virgin ass. Tommy couldn't believe the pain and started to cry out, but the pain was so intense he had no breath to voice his plight. Richard began thrusting into this sweet hole. He took a lit cigarette and brought it to Tommy's left tit adding to the boy's pain, and immediately felt the boy's ass contract with pain from the cigarette. He moved it to the right tit and again Tommy experienced a new level of torture, and gave his uncle's cock a good squeeze sending Richard further into lust. Richard then moved the cigarette to Tommy's soft cock, lightly touching the head, then the balls. Tommy thought nothing could be worse, but each new torture showed him a new pain. Finally Richard shoved his cock deep into Tommy's no longer virgin boypussy, filling him with his uncle's manly cum. Tommy could feel the hot liquid filling his guts.

Richard pulled his cock from Tommy's swollen asslips and brought his cock to Tommy's mouth. "Clean me, bitch! Get all the cum, lube and your ass juices off my cock." Tommy tried to comply and keep from retching. When Richard removed his cock from Tommy's mouth, he got off the table and began to milk Tommy's dick. "If you don't get you cock hard, I'll take this cigarette and make sure I leave marks!" Tommy found his cock swelling.
Richard then took a lit cigarette and put it between Tommy's lips. "Suck that smoke in slave." As Tommy took a drag he felt his cock stiffen like it never has before. He became lost in lust as his uncle continued milking his cock with his right hand with a lit cigarette between his two fingers. Tommy looked down as his hard cock with it purple head and his uncle's hand holding a lit smoke jerking him off. Tommy couldn't take it any more and let go his teen spunk jetting up in the air. His uncle started greedily sucking Tommy, literally sucking his cum from his balls. Then his uncle moved to Tommy's mouth giving him a mouthful of his own cum. Richard took a deep drag on his cig and gave Tommy a deep mouth kiss filling his lungs with smoke. "You will come back to my house next Saturday and continue serving as my sex slave. Do you understand?" Tommy was just barely able to nod his head.

Finally, Richard untied the still immobile boy and brought him back into the larger room. He began dressing Tommy, who dozed off to sleep. When he awoke, he had a bad taste in his mouth and his ass was sore. He saw his uncle working in the basement and asked him what happened. "You worked too hard and laid down to rest. I guess you zonked out and napped."

Tommy left his uncle's house feeling like something had happened, but couldn't remember anything beyond working then waking up. Later that night he had the first of many dreams of his uncle molesting him and had a craving for a cigarette.











]]> Sun, 11 Apr 2010 13:23:23 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1773 Who Is Free This Week? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1772 Any guys free this week around UK who are up for a meet?

Would be happy to fly outside UK if any hot mokers willing to accommodate

Reds smoker here.... Any gar tutors? tongue.gif]]> Sun, 11 Apr 2010 03:55:53 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1772 Chicago Today And Tomorrow http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1771 In Chicago today and tomorrow. Looking for a smoke bud. Love swapping smoke and smokesex. Fri, 09 Apr 2010 06:42:12 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1771 Smoke On A Plane http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1770 Anyone else sorta turned on by the Qatari diplomat who really needed a smoke and set off an incident by lighting up in the lavatory and then joking about lighting his shoes instead? Good looking guy too. Fri, 09 Apr 2010 04:44:20 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1770 Smoking In The Car http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1769 1. the wrapper and foil from a new pack
2. empty pack
Do you use your ashtray (where do u empty it) or window to get rid of the butts?

Thanks!]]> Wed, 07 Apr 2010 05:24:36 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1769 Youtube Or Xtube Vids http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1766 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTzhNpscr9Y
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQEcrYUvJZ4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0K8stj6vlTI
cool.gif
Bday vid 2K8~~~"X" is on Xtube under furrykiltman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiFfMM0Jjmc
]]> Mon, 05 Apr 2010 22:31:53 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1766 Harry Potter And The Wands Of Fire http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1765 A pity in some ways. For one it seems like one of the few proper stories I've managed to come up with. Rather than the usual ramblings led purely by my fantasies this story actually has an ending - or will have when I finish it, today probably. And I found that using the symbolism of the battle between good and evil in the Harry Potter world didn't just allow me to bring some essentials of what I find such a turn on about smoking to light, it actually sheds light on the some of the conflicts I feel about our (my) fetish.
So, if anyone would like to contact me for a private discussion about that, feel free.]]> Mon, 05 Apr 2010 05:28:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1765 Who Are Your Favourite Youtube Smokers? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1764 Sun, 04 Apr 2010 23:08:15 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1764 Fs Cigarettes http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1763 Sun, 04 Apr 2010 13:48:05 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1763 Reno, Nv http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1762 bottom cub/bear would like to experiance smoke and or dip sex! anyone in the area hit me up. Sun, 04 Apr 2010 07:37:16 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1762 Looking For Smoke Sex In Erie Pa http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1761 Anyone in Erie or the surrounding area want to swap smoke and have fun? Sat, 03 Apr 2010 19:23:32 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1761 Smokers In Chicago http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1759 In Chicago April 9th and 10th. Would love to find a smokebud while there. Love to swap smoke and smokesex. Sat, 03 Apr 2010 04:44:02 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1759 Smoking In Dc http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1758 I'm a 27 yo smoker from Canada... Will be in Washington DC for work april 24 - may 24
Into cigs, big gars..
Looking for smokers from the area to show me what DC smokers are all about!
Don't be afraid to chat me up!
]]> Fri, 02 Apr 2010 21:26:34 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1758 Chicago Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1757 Will be in Chicago next week. Looking to hook up for a heavy smoking session. Anyone interested? Grad student here, stocky build, kinky... Fri, 02 Apr 2010 21:25:43 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1757 Construction Smoker: New Version http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1756 Allright, marlboroboots gave me permission to expand on his story Construction Smoker. Hope you guys enjoy the new version.


I was sixteen when I started my apprenticeship in a construction company near my home town. It was a small family owned outfit that only employed fifty people in the field and they mostly did road construction and some excavations. Paul Carlson, the owner, is a well respected man in our area and I was excited when he accepted me as their new apprentice. However, the company’s headquarters are located in the next town over from us, about fifteen miles from where I live and I had no way of getting there on my own. Mr. Carlson generously arranged to have my foreman, who happened to live in my town, pick me up on his way to work. I was up bright and early on August 1st and ready to begin a new chapter in my life as I sat on the sidewalk by my house waiting for my new boss to pick me up. Giovanni or John as he likes to be called was not only going to be my foreman but was going to personally oversee my apprenticeship as well. I guessed he was around forty, rather small at five foot five and at sixteen I was the same height. While he may have been small he sure was stocky, with his Italian heritage showing mostly in his face. He had this Roman nose that was big and bowed and he was nearly bald with short grey hair on top of his head. He always had his top shirt button undone, out of which a forest of black hair peeked through.

I already knew who he was as I had seen him around our small town before but I had never met him. He came around the corner in this old red truck one minute before six, the time he had said he would be here. I opened the passenger door and hopped in and was immediately hit by the powerful aroma of cigarette smoke. “Hey there, you must be Eric? I’m John, nice to meet you. So, all ready to start your first day?” John managed to get this all out in one sentence as he was crushing out a cigarette in the truck’s ashtray. I told him that I had been really looking forward to today and couldn’t wait to get started. As I was talking I glanced around the cab and noticed a lot of empty cigarette packs lying on the floor and that the ashtray was overflowing. Some of the butts had fallen out leaving burn marks not only on the seat but even on the dashboard. The truck was far more beaten up then I thought it would be as it didn’t look to be all that old from the outside. As soon as John pulled back out onto the road he reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pack of Marlboro Reds. Fishing one out with his mouth he quickly lit it up, tugging hard on it a couple of times while leaving it dangling from his mouth. It didn’t take long before the cabin was filled with the strong tobacco smoke that had hit me when I got into the cab and even though my father smoked a pipe, I finally had to clear my throat after a minute or so. “Oh sorry, you’re not a smoker are you? Don’t worry you’ll get used to it but I’ll roll down the window for you.” I guess I was going to have to get used to it pretty quickly, because as soon as he finished smoking this cig, he had another one going. Anyway, I told him how happy I was to finally be done with school and how I ended up getting apprenticed with Mr. Carlson’s company and he told me about having met my father a couple of times at one of the local bars.

We reached the company’s headquarters building a few minutes later and John said he’d quickly show me around the place so I could get my bearings. Once he’d finished showing me the basics like where the bathrooms were we went up to see Mr. Carlson in his office. He welcomed me to the company again, telling me to stick close to John as I would learn a lot from him and gave me the keys to my locker and the employee brake room. John then led me down to the locker room and showed me which locker was mine, which turned out to be right next to his. Apparently you could smoke anywhere you wanted to, because John sure did. In between exhaling large clouds of smoke John said I could change clothes here if I wanted to and he told me to get a good raincoat to keep in my locker so it would be handy if I needed it. He opened up his and showed me everything he kept on hand and recommended what I should stock up on. He kept a lot of things in his locker; spare pants, boots, rubber boots for rainy days, a jacket, several shirts and gloves, some fresh socks incase his feet got wet, a helmet incase he forgot his regular one and his tool belt were all tightly packed in there. He also kept some snacks for his breaks and four cartons of Marlboro Reds. We walked over to the company’s supply room to fetch some of the stuff I would need today. I picked out my own tool belt, a helmet and a pair of gloves. John checked out what I was wearing and said the jeans were fine if that’s what I liked to wear. He also wore jeans to but mentioned that in the future I should buy some that had more pockets on them. However, he told me work boots wouldn’t do and that I’d also needed to get a pair of rubber boots and that we’d pick them up after lunch. He dropped his smoke on the floor, crushing it out with his boot while lighting up another one as we walked back over to his locker. Before shutting his locker he reached in and grabbed a fresh pack of reds from his supply and added them to his shirt pocket. Looking down at my feet he asked me what size I was, I replied that I wore a size nine. John took out his spare work boots and told me to wear his for today. They were real heavy and a bit too big for me, so I had to tie them extra tight to keep them from slipping off my feet.

John just stood there watching me do all this, silently smoking his cig. Finally he asked if the boots fit. They did, so he locked his locker and told me to follow him. We went into the break room and he grabbed us two cups of coffee and lit himself yet another smoke. I had only rarely drunk coffee before as my dad hated the stuff but I hadn’t minded it the few times I had tried it before. While we sat there talking John finished filling me in about the kind of work we were going to be doing that day. He finished by taking one last hard hit from his cig, throwing the butt into the ashtray, gulping down the last of his coffee all in one swift motion while standing up. Smoke kept flowing from his nostrils as I hurried to follow him outside and I notice the last few wisps escaping from his nose in the morning light. He sure was a heavy smoker and three minutes later while headed to the work site in his truck he had another one going. This time he didn’t bother to roll down the window.

He kept me real busy that morning and I was sweating pretty heavily as I swung the shovel and he handled the digger, smoking and giving me instructions. His boots proved their worth as my feet stayed dry from the moist earth. I immediately enjoyed working outside as it was so different from sitting in a desk at school, which I had found to be incredibly boring. I got rid of some of my shyness that day right there and then because I started to realize that I had chosen the right job and this gave me a lot of new confidence in myself.

It was a small work-site and John and I were the only ones assigned to work there that morning so it’d give John more time to supervise my work on the first day. When we took our morning break we stayed there rather than going back to headquarters. I was slightly out of breath and appreciated the sandwich and coffee John willingly shared with me as we relaxed and talked. Even though I had a lot to learn, he told me that he’d found my work to be satisfactory and the effort I put into it even more so. I noticed that John didn’t put out his cig while eating but kept smoking as he ate, taking a puff before each bite and exhaling through the nose while chewing. He refilled my cup and said we would head into town for lunch and afterwards pick up my boots before heading back here. As we were lying in the warm sun John listened to me talk about my friends from school, how I hadn’t done all that well academically and some of the pranks we had pulled. While I was talking he reached back into his pocket pulling out a red and handed it to me, just like it was the most natural thing in the world, never even diverting his attention from my story. I took it without even pausing to think about what I was doing and kept going on with what I was talking about. He lit his cig before sparking the lighter again for me. I just went along with it, took a couple of puffs and even inhaled some of it on my third draw. I felt self-conscious but was relieved that I didn’t cough and felt truly amazed at how cool the situation was. No teachers, no sitting still and no rules, just hard work and fun. For the first time I truly felt grown up as I smoked my cigarette and listened to John tell me some of his own stories about when he’d been in school and how he and some friends had once stolen their teacher’s cigarettes and smoked them behind the school building.

To be honest, this wasn’t my first time smoking as I had smoked before. Not regularly or anything but a few times when hanging out with some of my buddies. The first time was five years ago, before my mom abandoned us she wanted to take riding lessons and decided to drag me along to them. We went to these stables thirty miles away that had a lot of horses to choose from and a large riding hall. The first couple of times we went I had to sit up in the tribune, which is a balcony that overlooks the hall, so I could watch my mom as she had her lessons with the other students. It was an English style riding school, so the teacher, who also happened to be the owner, would stand in the middle of the hall shouting orders to the riders. He was of average build, so not really all that impressive looking but he sure made up for it with his voice which boomed clear across the hall. He always wore leather riding boots, leather breeches, some sort of colorful shirt and a cap. I never saw if he still had any hair on his head but he did have a well trimmed mustache. And he smoked a lot, lighting up again and again during these lessons. Occasionally some drifting smoke would rise up and hit me in the nose as I sat in the tribune and after the lesson was finished and I was allowed to enter the hall to pet my mother’s horse, you could see the ground was covered with butts.

After I’d watched two of these lessons I was totally bored out of my mind and really happy when a kid close to my age came over and talked with me. His name was Chris and it turned out that his father was the owner of the school. He was supposed to be mucking out some of the stalls and asked if I wanted to talk with him while he finished his chores. He was dressed just like his dad but without the cap. The peach fuzz on his lip even matched the color of his Dad’s mustache. I followed him to where he grabbed a pitchfork and walked over to the dirty stalls he had to finish mucking. As I only had on sneakers and a pair of jeans I stood outside the door where I could see him muck the shit and we talked about what it was like living here. It didn’t take him long to get done and he asked if I wanted to go up to their apartment and get something to drink. The apartment was right above the stable’s tack room where they kept all of the saddles and their equipment. Since my mother’s lesson had just started when we entered the apartment, I had a lot of time to kill. He took me down a long corridor that was packed with riding boots and coats that eventually led to their kitchen where he offered me a coke. The first thing I noticed was that the whole place reeked of stale cigarette smoke. There were three or four full ashtrays strewn about and on the cupboard by the fridge sat three cartons of unfiltered Camel cigarettes with a couple of empty packs lying on the table. As I slowly drank my coke he showed me around the place and we went into his room, which was pretty small and already half filled with his bed. The walls were covered all over the place by posters of different kinds of trucks and cars. “Cool, you’re into cars! These posters are awesome,” I commented. Chris nodded and then asked if I wanted to see his favorite place on the property. Leaving the apartment, we walked out behind the stables where a beat up white truck without tires was standing in the tall grass. Chris opened the driver’s door for me and joined me from the passenger side. We talked some more and I discovered he we two years older than me and attended a day school not too far from here. Pretty soon he asked if I wanted to know a secret, making me swear not to tell anyone. Promising I wouldn’t, he reached into the glove compartment pulling out a pack of unfiltered cigarettes that was about empty.
“You smoke?” I asked.
“Yeah” He admitted.
“Do you buy them or do you just nick them from your dad?”
“I get them from my pop; he smokes so much he never notices a pack missing from time to time. He’s a chain smoker you know, lighting them up one right after another. He would smoke while eating mom hadn’t forbidden it.”
“So what’s it like? Does it taste like it smells?” I asked.
“You have to get used to it but it’s good. You want to give it a try?”

I nodded and he handed me my first ever cigarette. Chris lit his own first to show me how to do it, exhaling an impressive amount of smoke. I had difficulty getting it lit at first but managed after my second try when Chris told me to pull on it gently. The harsh smoke entered my mouth and it didn’t taste anything like I expected, it was pretty gross actually. I blew the smoke out right away while Chris smirked and said “Try it again but breathe in the smoke.” I did and ended up coughing as my eyes started watering. Chris laughed and comfortably took another drag while pulling out the truck’s ashtray. I asked him, “Aren’t you worried about getting addicted?” “Nah, I’ve come to like, as I said you get used to it after a while. Besides, I only smoke occasionally and it took Dad years to get so addicted that he can’t be without one all the time, so I’ve got nothing to worry about so soon.” He leaned back in his seat and put his riding boots up on the dashboard while inhaling on his cig and exhaling a bit through his nose.

“Try it again but slowly, just a little bit this time.” I did as Chris suggested and only coughed a little. Three more tries and I was able to suppress the urge to cough and managed to blow out a tiny column of smoke. “Cool” I exclaimed. “Yeah” he said inhaling and blowing out a much bigger cloud. After three more puffs like that, I started to feel sick. I told Chris this and he stubbed out his own smoke and took mine. “Lay back for a while! Smoking will do that but you’ll feel better again in no time.” He took a couple of more hits off of my cigarette before crushing it out in the truck’s ashtray. “Here, take this.” He handed me a mint, took one for himself while putting his pack back into the glove compartment. Chris started talking about his favorite brand of cars and the music he liked. Once I felt alright we walked back to the stables and I joined my mom just as her lesson was finishing up. She asked me where I had gone off to and I told her some of what I had been doing, leaving out my smoking adventure as I watched Chris’s dad out of the corner of my eye as he threw his smoke to the ground, stepping on it while reaching for a fresh one. It was amazing how thick the clouds of smoke were that he was able to produce from his nostrils. I thought about how cool it must be to be around that all day and suddenly envied Chris. My dad smoked a pipe and sometimes a cigar in the evening but he couldn’t compare to Chris’s dad. I went back a couple of more times with my mom. Sometimes Chris was around and we managed to sneak out for cigarettes a few more times. I was starting to get use to the taste and didn’t cough nearly as bad as the first time but I wasn’t anywhere near as good at it as Chris.

Not too long after my mom started her lessons she began going out by herself and half a year later she left. During one of her riding lessons she had met a guy that worked at the stables and she went to live with him. I refused to visit and now we only occasionally meet when she comes to take me out for dinner. I haven’t seen Chris since as we obviously didn’t go to the same school and I had no way of going over to the town he lived in by myself. So any more opportunities for smoking cigarettes were gone until I got into high school. My buddy Tom had an older brother that was out of school before we entered but he would buy Tom anything he wanted. Tom was a regular smoker by the time he was fourteen and how he hid it from his parents I don’t know. We got invited to a party that one of the popular kids was throwing, I got drunk for the first time and I smoked some of his cigarettes. They were some really cheap brand that I had never heard of before as Tom didn’t want to spend all his money on smokes. They tasted a lot worse than Chris’ unfiltered Camels. I smoked three that night, coughed a bit and ended up puking from all the alcohol I had drunk. That was two years ago and I hadn’t smoked since. You know how when you get really puking drunk and the next couple of days afterwards even the thought of alcohol makes you gag? Well that’s how I was with cigarettes after that. I guess the combination of the poor quality tobacco and too much alcohol just ruined it for me and I never bothered to try again.

But here I was on my first day of work and a man had just offered me a smoke. Inside I felt elated, like I was finally grown up. And the cigarette I was smoking didn’t taste anything like the ones I had before did. It didn’t taste good but it didn’t taste so bad either. I tried imitating John a bit by inhaling more and even attempted exhaling through my nose after getting a rush from swallowing some of my coffee. I was feeling really buzzed when we finished our break crushed out our smokes. Johnny lit another red as we headed back over to our work area. For the rest of the morning I just focused my attention on the work I was doing and managed to forget about everything else that was going on around me. No worries, just the job I had to do. I began to think that I could do this for the rest of my life and here I was only working with a shovel.

At lunchtime we drove into town and ate at this small, dingy cafe. The food was good though and there was so much of it I could hardly stomach it. A lot of other construction workers ate there too, so it ended up being quite a smelly place, full of tobacco smoke, sweat and noise and I felt right at home. Johnny stuck next to me and introduced me to some of my new coworkers and guys from some of the other construction companies. John even included me in their conversation. He ordered me coffee but had me drink it in a hurry so we could go get my boots and still make it back to the site on time. We left for a construction supply store that was nearby that also sold work clothes. As an the store clerk showed me the large selection of boots that they had in stock, he explained to me the differences and how some people preferred pairs that were light and flexible, while others choose ones that were heavier and more protective. John stood there watching and smoking as I tried on a couple of different kinds and eventually told me to go with the heavier and sturdier ones. I decided on a pair of old-fashioned black leather boots. They had me get them two sizes bigger then what I needed as they insisted that my feet were going to grow more and I didn’t want to have to replace them too quickly. Besides the regular work boots I picked up a pair of rubber ones for rainy days. Johnny told me keep his spare pair for the next few days as mine was going to hurt until I had them broken in.

Leaving the shop we headed back to the work site to finish out the day. When I was done I stood there seating and admiring all the work I had accomplished, which I thought was quite a bit. Johnny who was watching me again, while smoking of course, suddenly told me to go get my new boots and to put them on. I did as I was told and as I was finishing lacing them up he pointed to a big puddle of water beside the road, telling me to go stand in it in to get them soaking wet. Johnny explained that the water would soften the leather and help mold the boots to the shape of my feet, making them more comfortable. However, he said I would have to wear them for the rest of the evening. My feet were completely soaked and on the way home they leaked water all over the floor of Johnny’s truck but he didn’t seem to mind. By the time he dropped me off at home I was exhausted. My legs felt heavy and my feet even heavier. I practically crawled into the empty house and didn’t make it very far before I crashed onto the sofa and fell asleep. I only woke up when my dad came stumbling in about an hour later. He had hit the pubs again which was why he hadn’t been here when I’d got back. Not that I was surprised. We both mumbled hi to each other and quickly went our separate way. When I finally entered the kitchen he was putting some food on the table, while working with his pipe. We ate and didn’t say much but I did show him my new, and still very wet, boots. He mumbled something about them being expensive but I told him the company had paid for them and after that he didn’t say anything more about it. Somehow I managed to eat more than I could stomach again and once I had put the dishes in the dishwasher I made my way up to my room where I fell asleep, still wearing my smelly work clothes. When I awoke in the middle of the night, my feet were freezing. I quickly pulled everything off, dumping them on the floor beside me and rolled over back to sleep. I didn’t wake again until my alarm went off at five. I showered and quickly ate breakfast so that I would be ready for when John came to pick me up.

Before the end of the week I had already established a routine and was getting along even better with John. He was slowly becoming my buddy rather than just my boss. When we took our breaks together he would give me one of his reds, even after our lunch break when we hung out with some of the other guys he would give me one then as well. Nobody ever uttered a word against it, it was just accepted that I smoked. Hell, it might have even been expected as everybody else I worked with smoked too but none of them smoked as hard or as often as John. He never let a smoke go unfinished, smoking it right down to the filter and he didn’t stub his smoke out as the other guys did when our food arrived for lunch but kept on smoking and eating at the same time. John always had two packs with him and in addition to the cartons of reds he kept back in his headquarters locker he also kept a couple of cartons in his truck. When we were working, he would dangle the cig from the corner of his mouth and exhale thick clouds of smoke through his nose. Occasionally he would remove it to cough a little but it went back so quickly you hardly even noticed it was gone.

It was just natural for him to smoke that way. I didn’t know and I didn’t care how much he smoked, it was just pretty obvious it was a lot. By the end of my second week he had me smoking a couple during the day and it never felt out of place. After a while it became natural for him to offer me a cig from time to time and it got normal for me to accept them, which I always did. He never asked me if I wanted one, he just offered and I never asked for one, I just took. After two months of us working together he gave me my first pack of reds the same way. I kept them in my jeans pocket but John was still faster at offering me one of his, so it lasted nearly a week. In the mornings I would pick up a red from him as soon as I got into the truck and after work when I was home alone I would smoke a few in the evenings, that’s where I smoked most of that first pack.

Nearly four months to the day after John gave me my first pack my jeans had gotten so tight and short that I had to get new ones. Not only had I put on a lot of muscle but I had gone through a growth spurt. By now my work boots were fitting me like a glove as my feet had grown to size eleven and I nearly surpassed six foot. I had to buy new jeans every couple of months as they either got holes in them from work or got too tight or too short. It was also at this time that I noticed after getting out of the shower and admiring my new muscles that I was getting some hair on my chest, right between my pecs and on my stomach. Though it wasn’t much I was really surprised as my father could barely grow a descent beard and had no chest hair at all. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted any as chest hair definitely hadn’t been an in thing when I left school but I figured that with my genes it probably wouldn’t amount to much and didn’t bother to think about it anymore. The same day I noticed I was growing chest hair was also the day that I finally bought myself a carton of reds for the first time. That evening after work, Johnny stopped at a discount tobacco store to pick up his weekly three cartons and suggested I might as well get one myself so I could save some money. It only lasted me two weeks for by then I was smoking close to a pack a day, plus whatever John usually gave me. A cigarette just felt natural now, whether it was in my hand or in my mouth. I also got into Johnny’s habit of dangling them from the corner of my mouth as I worked and even his habit of exhaling through the nose seemed to stick with me. Getting smoke in my eyes didn’t bother me anymore and I had developed a taste for coffee. I bought myself a coffee pot so I could make some at home in the morning as nothing tasted better than a cig and polishing off a cup while waiting for John to pick me up.

When the Christmas holidays came, John took time off to go with his family to America for two weeks to visit his wife’s sister or something. When he came back he showed us a pair of American roper boots he had brought with him. I thought they were really cool and mentioned off handedly that I wouldn’t mind getting a pair like that myself some day. Soon after the Christmas holiday I began to hang out with John and the other guys outside of work more. Since I wasn’t eighteen and couldn’t go to the pubs they invited me over to their homes on the weekends. We would hang out watching football and drinking some beers. John’s wife was nice and he had two sons aged five and eight but whenever the guys came over she and the kids went and did their own thing. So they never bothered us while we sat around talking, smoking and drinking some beers. John had a large humidor that he kept filled with a variety of cigars from around the world and not the cheap kind either. He always told us to help ourselves which we did. Like his red, John could really haul on his cigar too. Hanging out with him every other Saturday, either at his place or one of the other guys’ house, resulted in me becoming a pretty good cigar smoker too as John always brought some with him.

My work boots started to get to be too tight that spring and I went out and bought myself a new pair of the same type but at a size twelve. I had pretty much stopped growing by then after having reached six feet and three inches, so I figured I didn’t need to get them any bigger than what my feet were. The rest of the money I was making I was either saving so I could buy myself a car or a bike, I hadn’t made my mind up about which one I really wanted yet, or I spent it on smokes and beer. I gave John or one of the other guys some money every week for them to pick me up a case, which I kept in a small fridge in my room that I had also bought. I was now smoking openly at home as my old man finally caught on to the fact that I was a smoker but he didn’t really seem to care, anyways he still smoked his pipe so what could he say about it. I went out and bought myself two big ash trays for my room as I got tired of using the toilet to dispose of my butts. I placed one beside my bed and the other next to my computer but they were always full if not overflowing.

In early May John left for America again, this time because somebody in his wife’s family had died. By now I had completely forgotten about mentioning how I wouldn’t mind having some boots like his, so when he brought me back a pair I was pretty surprised. These weren’t the round toed, flat heeled kind that he had bought for himself either; these were a pair of real cowboy boots that were pointy toed and with two inch high under slung heels. I thanked him but I felt self conscious when I put them on. The shafts of the boots hugged my calves all the way up to my knees and my toes were really squished together but it was the heels that gave me the most trouble when I walked in them. Wearing them made me a lot taller and standing besides John I felt even bigger. I’m sure I must have looked really stupid when I walked in them for the first time but John said they looked good on me. He insisted that I just needed to break them in and after that I would get use to them in no time. Not that I had much of a choice anyway, I had to wear them as I was pretty sure that they were expensive and not some cheap knockoffs. So I began to wear them before and after work while keeping my regular boots in my locker at our headquarters. My father even liked them, maybe even more than I did at the beginning. At least he said they looked good, which means a lot coming from him but I wasn’t sure at first, they just felt so light after being use to my heavier work boots and I was still having trouble walking with them because of the heels. Eventually I figured out that that if I walked bow legged I wouldn’t have any trouble. I had them broken in, in no time after that. The guys at work complimented me on them but that was about it and after a while they just belonged to me like smoking now did. My habit had increased to over a pack and half per day now, as I pretty much smoked whenever I felt like it. Of course John still gave me six or eight cigs out of his packs every day so I was probably smoking closer to a full two but I didn’t care and never really bothered to think about it.

My seventeenth birthday rolled around in late June, a little more than a month before my one year anniversary of having started working with John and the others. I didn’t expect to get much, hell I didn’t expect to get anything. My father had ignored my birthday while I was growing up, usually giving me some money and telling me to go and buy something for myself but the guys threw me a bit of a party. Plenty of beer of course and a handful of gifts, most of it pretty practical, new gloves and the like. John gave me a box of cigars from the Dominican Republic and a small humidor to keep them in. When I got home my Dad gave me some money to go get something I needed like I expected him to but he also got me a gift this year. He handed me a box in which I found a nice new briar pipe and a couple of tins of tobacco. I thanked him for it and said I really appreciated it while he just mumbled that if I was going to smoke I might as well smoke the right way instead of those damn cigarettes. Now that’s more like the father I knew. It took a while but I learned how to smoke it good and it became my habit to smoke my pipe once I got home. I still loved my reds but there’s something about the thickness of pipe tobacco that’s really relaxing in the lungs after a hard day of work. Plus it’s cheaper than cigs so it saved me some money and I liked how smoky the room got after exhaling it through my nose. I had already decided on what I wanted to get myself with Dad’s money, a tattoo. Nothing big but I had seen one that I liked on a guy’s arm at lunch once. The amount of money Dad had given me was more than enough to cover it and I thought it would look pretty sweet on me. I showed John and the other guys after I got it that weekend and they all approved if my choice and thought it looked good on me as well.

By now there was no doubt that I was going to be a pretty hairy bastard. In the six months since I first noticed those few strands of hair on my chest they had managed to spread over my entire front. And it wasn’t short hair either, when I pulled on it, it probably extended a little over an inch long but it curled tightly up against my skin. At least it wasn’t scraggly looking and it didn’t look too bad on my pecs either which had gotten really big from all the work I had been doing, just like my biceps and triceps had. Also I thought myself lucky that I didn’t have shoulder or back hair but I still considered shaving it off. I never got around to it though, as I didn’t have any clippers at home. I hadn’t taken my shirt off in front of the guys at work yet as I never had a reason to but after an unusually cool spring and summer July came in boiling hot. We were working on a rural road out in the middle of nowhere to far to go into town for lunch on the first truly hot day of the year. I had brought a couple of sandwiches with me and decided to take off my shirt which by now was soaked in sweat so I could at least enjoy my meal. I don’t know what or if anything I was expecting but definitely not what happened. I guess I figured they might give me some ribbing for being hairy or just not say anything at all but instead they all complimented me on it. One of the guys who was in his twenties said that he wished he was hairy like that. Even John told me I should be showing it off so that everyone could see what kind of man I was.

After that I began keeping the first button on my shirt undone like John did so that the hair that was growing up onto my neck could poke through. John still encouraged me to show more and as I got comfortable with the idea I kept undoing a more buttons until I only kept the first three fastened. My father even commented that I was more of a man than him because of it. That was the most praise I had ever received from him and I don’t know why but after all these years it made me real proud that he thought that. Just like my smoking and the boots John had given me, my chest hair became a part of who I was. Whenever John and I would be talking he would casually reach over and feel some of my chest hair by pinching it and rolling it through his fingers. Some of the other guys would rub my chest and comment on how lucky I was. I started wearing a couple of day’s worth of stubble on my face, shaving just every third evening so in the morning I would still have some good growth when I left for work. That September when we were doing a job in one of the larger towns, women would stare at me while I was working and hauling on a red, the sweat dripped off my chest hair. While some of them were in their twenties I got the most compliments from women in their thirties and forties. A lot of them were real good looking and the guys would grin and slap me on the back after they’d passed. On days like that I would have to rub one out once I got home, especially if there had been a real looker. It seemed the hairier I got the hornier I became.

And I did get hairier. By October I had hair on my shoulders as thick as the hair on my chest. Now, however, I didn’t mind it. I don’t know why, I guess I just got use to the idea that I was going to be hairy and that it was alright. We were on our last day of a project and John and I had stayed behind to finish it. I had three days worth of stubble and had just lit a cig from a fresh pack of reds when a particularly good looking blond in her 30’s that I had noticed a few times walked over and gave me her address which was two blocks away. John chuckled, slapped me on the back and told me to go get some. Now having been around real men for over a year I don’t get embarrassed much anymore but I turned a little red right then. In school I had never been with a woman and since leaving I hadn’t been around anyone but the guys as most people my age had left for a university or moved on to an apprenticeship elsewhere so there hadn’t been an opportunity to try out my manhood. I guess John realized this as he told me not to worry, to have fun and if in doubt have her ride me. As he tossed my shovel in the back of his pickup he told me to call him when I got done if I needed a ride home. Then he sped away.

Walking quickly in the direction of her apartment I lit another smoke without thinking that she might not want me to smoke inside so I quickly finished it off before knocking on her door. Once I was inside she asked if I wanted anything to drink and brought me a beer. After a few minutes of chit chat she offered to give me a back rub, which honestly isn’t what I expected but I was still too shy to say no. I had a major hard on and I was starting to wonder if this was all she wanted to do when she leaned around me and we started to make out as she pulled my shirt free and finished unbuttoning it. She ran her hand through my chest hair and up through the hair on my shoulders feeling all the muscles I had developed over the last year. Her hands felt great as she rubbed each of my pecs which were defined by the thick hair on them and then she leaned down and slowly licked the hairs between them, gently pulling on them with her teeth. My hard on was throbbing now and she could sense it. She pushed me back onto her couch, undid my belt, freeing my manhood and slowly slipped it inside her. As she began to milk my cock with her pussy she kept running her hands all over me, starting with the hair on my stomach and going all the way up to the hair on my shoulders over and over again while telling me how I was a real man and how I felt and smelled like a man. It never occurred to me to think about putting on a condom, not that I had one with me. It didn’t take long before I could feel my cock twitching as I delivered my pay load deep inside her as she let out a moan of pure ecstasy as she felt my boys make their way home. Afterwards, as I was lying there with her on top of me, her face buried in my chest hair listening to my lungs as my chest rising high from inhaling deeply on the red I was smoking, I could only think of one thing, how a cig had never tasted so damn good.

That was my first experience with a woman and it didn’t take long before I was making regular visits to others. They were all good looking and a week didn’t go by when I wasn’t getting laid at least once or twice. I even established a few friends-with-benefits with some of them, becoming a regular whore at times. All the married guys were jealous of me as they never got that much tail at home. I learned quite a few techniques such as how to properly massage a woman’s breast with my chest hair. Some of them that shaved their pussies liked to grind themselves on my chest. No matter what, they all loved how warm and soft my body hair felt over my hard muscles and how the mixture of sweat, smoke and cologne I wore smelled together. Most couldn’t believe that I wasn’t even eighteen yet as I pretty much only got to fuck women in their 30s or 40s. I never once used a condom and none of them ever asked me too. I just figured it wasn’t worth wasting a good nut.
Two years after I started my job I knew that this is where I belonged. I loved being outside in the fresh air, the changing weather, even the dust and the dirt. There’s just something about working with my hands and the hard work that goes with it that I enjoy and the satisfaction I get looking at the work I’d just completed at the end of a long day. And there is no question that I love smoking and being able to smoke while I work. I love everything about it now, the buzz, the taste, the act of smoking and how the smoke feels in my lungs when I inhale deeply. But I’ve really come to love how I look when I smoke, how it comes out of my nostrils and how it compliments my chest hair; it just fits me like it does John. I’m quite the smoker now too, polishing off three packs a day plus my pipe in the evenings.

My home life hasn’t changed any at all though; it’s still more of a shared household than a real home. Dad cleans the kitchen while I do the bathroom and the rest we leave to chance. It’s always messy and it’s just easier to wear shoes rather than keep the floors clean. I usually spend my evenings during the week in front of the TV, if I’m not hooking up with a chick, lying back on the couch with my work gear still on, boots in the air and smoking the pipe Dad gave me for my birthday last year while downing a few beers. Once I walk through the door my pipe is the first thing I grab anymore and I don’t let it go out until I go to bed. If I don’t have to go out during the day I hang around the house shirtless, usually smoking my pipe but also some reds. When I order pizza or any other type of delivery I enjoy how the guys stare in envy and awe at my chest when I open the door as I exhale thick pipe smoke from my nose. By the time my eighteenth birthday came around my back was completely covered in thick hair as well but that’s fine with me. In fact I find myself eagerly waiting for more of my bare skin to fill in and it’s become a real power trip for me if a woman doesn’t like it and clenches her fists so as not to touch it while I’m fucking her. Others like to pet me like an animal, rubbing my back against the grain which feels damn good, so it’s a win-win situation for me either way.

I decided to grow my first beard shortly before my eighteenth birthday and because of it the guys at work started to call me Bear and the name just stuck. I had also developed quite a smoker’s, or a “man’s cough” as the guys refer to it, by then as well. John says it’s your body’s way of reminding you that you’re alive so you’ll go out and enjoy life. Who am I to argue with John? Plus all the chicks I’ve been with think it’s sexy too.

My birthday came and went a lot like my seventeenth. John gave me a big old belt buckle he bought on another trip to America and I got myself another tattoo with the money Dad gave me but this time on my other arm. I figured it was best to do it now before my upper arms get so hairy that I’d have to shave them to get one. But this year I also bought myself a new car and a bike. I had made more than enough money from working the last two years for both so why not get both. I’ve been going out and hitting the bars on the weekends to. Sometimes I’ll even go to one of the pubs with the guys or meet a friend after work. I weigh 210 pounds on my six foot three frame and while I’m not built like a bodybuilder, I am muscular. My increased beer consumption has brought on some weight gain but I haven’t developed a beer gut, my job will keep that off. Whenever I go out I always smoke more than normal, chaining whole packs in one setting. Some of my old school buddies have come back home from their own apprenticeships and I’ve started hooking up with them again. They didn’t even recognize me at first. Not only had I grown in height and weight over the last two years, I’m way more outgoing than I ever use to be. Plus, with my beard, muscles and chest hair I don’t look anything like the reserved scrawny sixteen year old they once knew. Now I have no problem drowning a couple of beers and joking with them. My smoking and chest hair got quite a few comments too; especially from my old buddy Tom who is now smoking two packs of reds per day himself. While I now have plenty of opportunities to be with women closer to my own age, I still prefer to roll the older chicks. They know how to fuck right from years of experience and they aren’t interested in catching a husband like all the twenty-something’s, especially when all I’m interested in is having a quick fuck to enjoy myself.

I still pall around with John and the other guys every other week at one of their homes but now we meet up at one of the local pubs every week to. John and I are the best of friends and I can’t imagine anything ever coming between us. He still gives me smokes as we work together so the three packs I finish off every day is still no indicator of how many cigs I really smoke. Not that I care anyway. Plus I don’t know how my pipe would equal to a cig but then John smokes cigars when he gets home, so I know I don’t come anywhere close to keeping up with him. He still out-smokes me by far, that’s all I know but now I smoke as much if not more than the other guys I work with. With a red dangling from my mouth and my chest hair clinging to my muscles as it glistens with sweat every day, there is no doubt that I fit right in. When Mr. Carter decided to offer me a permanent position with company upon completing my two year apprenticeship I never hesitated and said yes on the spot.

Yesterday John and I were called into the boss’ office. He’s taking on a new apprentice from one of the neighborhoods close to where I live and wanted to know if I would feel comfortable helping John train him. I said sure, we could always use another member on our team. It was decided that I would pick him up on Monday. As we walked out of Mr. Carter’s office with a thick cloud of Marlboro smoke trailing behind us, I could hardly wait to meet the new kid.
]]> Thu, 01 Apr 2010 14:43:30 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1756 Adoption http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1749 Adoption - Introduction

Hey guys!
I am about to start a very long and slowly-deveopping story here. It is based on a chat I had with a guy about two years ago. Before I start, I want to tell you about it a little, to avoid bad suprises.

As I said, the plot develops pretty slowly - for I try to keep it very detailed - and it is coming in little chapters. A rather long part, based on that chat mentioned above, is already fixed.

What you will have to know first is that it is not primary sexual and even less homosexually dominated. I am not gay, so there will be mostly heterosexual actions in here especially at first. Later on, I will try to include homosexual parts, too. If anyone gets a turn-off from it or is about to feel offended, I ask for your excuse but I cannot change it. Anyway, more important than the sexual stuff is atmosphere. I really enjoyed that chat because of the luxurious, cigar-smoking and "manly" atmosphere it had in it. Difficult to describe but you'll see.

Then, I really would like you to comment on the chapters. I mean, if you don't like the whole story by itself, i guess there is nothing I can do about it. But for any other critiques, advices, questions, and, of course, positive feedback, please comment. Please, give me your opinions, I guess it won't be fun just keeping on posting without any reactions.

One more little thing: Although I am studying English, I am not a native speaker and have rather little everyday-speaking-practise. So, I'll be grateful if you have time and nerves to give me feedback on my language or come up with corrections. It is not that important but would be nice.


So I hope to find some people who enjoy the story. When my "pre-written" stuff runs out, I'll let you know and then there will be the possibility of suggestions on how the story could go on. But first, let's see If anyonbe likes it at all.

Mat]]> Mon, 29 Mar 2010 17:31:24 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1749 CampSmokeSex http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1748 CampSmokeSex

Part I
Brandon lit a cigarette. "Me and my buddy Stuart are going camping this weekend. Think you'd like to join us?" Smoke poured from his nose and mouth as he asked the question.

Luke tried not to stare as Brandon took another drag, hallowing his cheeks, half-closing his eyes. Resisting the urge to stare at Brandon when he smoked was becoming more and more difficult. For a second, Luke imagined kissing Brandon as he smoked. He imagined tasting the smoke on Brandon's tongue. He imagined how warm the smoke in Brandon's mouth would be, straight from his lungs.

Hadn't Brandon said something about camping? Some part of Luke's brain had heard the question, some part of his brain that didn't crave the taste of Brandon's smokey breath. "Where are you guys going?" he managed to ask.

"To Timothy Lake, out by Mount Hood. We'll camp at Gone Creek, do some hiking during the days." Brandon flicked the ash from his cigarette into a nearby sand-filled receptacle. "We plan to make it a three-day weekend. Think you could get the time off?"

"I think so. They owe it to me since I've done so much overtime the last few weeks," Luke said. He probably doesn't even know how hot he looks, smoking like that, just standing there dragging the tar and nicotine into his lungs...

Brandon grinned. "You've been the Overtime God."

Luke returned the grin. "More like the sacrifice on the alter of the Overtime God."

He and Brandon stood in one of the alcoves of the building where they both worked. It was mid-morning on a day in late June. Above, feathery clouds stretched across the blue sky. Sunlight glinted off the building's glass windows.

Earlier, Brandon had stopped by Luke's desk and asked Luke if he wanted to step outside for a bit. He'd been doing that for months now. Luke had quit smoking three years ago, but Luke knew that Brandon knew that they both needed to get away from bosses who drove them crazy, even if it was only for ten minutes. For both, the sunlight and the outdoors were welcome changes from the fluorescent-lit, cubicle-compressed world inside. Brandon would pull his pack of Camels from his shirt pocket before they'd even stepped outside of the corporate doors.

"Yeah, that overtime thing," Brandon said, inhaling deeply. "It's gonna end soon, right?"

"I hope so. I've worked every Saturday for the past five weeks." I bet he tastes so good when he's smoking. I wonder if he'd blow the smoke into my mouth...

"Think of all the money you're making."

"Trust me. I've thought about it. And I've thought about it. And I still wish I could have my Saturdays back." It was true. The money was great, but as he had rolled out of bed last Saturday morning and gotten ready for work, Luke realized that he would have given just about anything to be able to go outside and enjoy the sunny weather.

"You didn't need those Saturdays anyway, right?" Brandon asked.

"Not any more than you've needed your weeknights," Luke said. Like Luke, Brandon had been working plenty of overtime recently, staying several hours beyond his scheduled clock-out time at least three nights a week for the last month. The company was requiring more and more overtime from its staff, and neither Luke nor Brandon was happy about it.

Brandon had joined the company as a contractor five months ago, splitting time between two departments, one of which Luke worked in. With their mutual interests in movies, live music, and the outdoors, they had a lot to talk about and quickly became friends. Throughout the day, they'd shoot emails back and forth about news items and upcoming events of interest. Amid the company's high-stress, high-adrenaline, deadline-was-yesterday atmosphere, their conversations, breaks, and email exchanges kept them sane.

There was more to it than that, though. Brandon, who was 35, had told Luke that he was bi and had been in long-term relationships with both men and women. He'd also told Luke that, at the moment, he was single. The more he'd talked with Brandon and gotten to know him, the more that Luke, who was gay, had sensed an attraction between them. He liked the way that, around Brandon, he could speak frankly, whether it was about his family, an ex-boyfriend, or how he wasn't sure, at the age of 33, that the 9-to-5 life was right for him anymore. He liked the way that Brandon listened to what he said, and he appreciated Brandon's advice and candid conversation.

Of course, he also liked the way that Brandon looked. Today, as they stood outside, Luke glanced at Brandon and admired the view. Brandon was six feet tall and had short dark hair and brown eyes. He wore a blue dress shirt, silk tie, black slacks and black derby shoes. The bergamont scent of his cologne blended with the smell of his Camel cigarette. At that moment, smoke curled around Brandon's nose, smoke that the alcove's mixture of shadow and light only sharpened and emphasized. Eye candy, indeed, Luke thought.

"So you're gonna go with us this weekend, right?" Brandon was asking.

I wouldn't miss it for the world. "Yeah. I'll be there. I'll talk to the boss today about getting the day off."

"If she doesn't give you that day off, I'll go talk to her myself."

"Fight my battles for me, huh?"

"Hell, yeah. If two employees are saying you should have the time off, that's gotta mean something, right?" As he spoke, Brandon glanced at his half-finished cigarette and took another puff.

"Not if one of them is a contractor," Luke said.

"Shit. You're right. You'll have to fight that battle yourself, I guess."

"I knew you were gonna say that."

"Well, maybe I could tell her that I'll quit unless you get the day off."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that. That would make such a huge difference."

"It definitely would. I mean, where would she be without me? Besides on the phone, hiring my replacement before I was even out the door."

Luke laughed and thought for the umpteenth how much he liked Brandon's sense of humor. Maybe it was because, to Brandon, there wasn't much that was sacred. "Visited my parents a few weeks ago, and on Sunday I went with them to the church they still attend," Brandon had told him a while back. "It's a really conservative church, and all I could think about as I sat there was how much the atmosphere of piety and self-righteousness made my skin crawl. It made me want to get up and start dancing naked in front of the congregation." Luke had laughed and said, "That's what clubs are for. There are lots of drunks in clubs. Drunk people love naked people." "That's what I figured, too," Brandon had said. "But I'll be damned if my hand didn't stay awfully close to my zipper throughout the entire service."

There were things about Brandon that, as Luke had gotten to know him, had come to seem deeply erotic. The thought of Brandon's hands tying a Windsor knot in his tie, for instance, or the thought of Brandon's hands buckling his Italian leather belt, or the the way in the mornings he'd stop by Luke's desk to say hello, holding a cup of black coffee as though it was the only thing keeping him standing. Little things like that. There was also the fact- there was especially the fact- that Brandon smoked. Luke liked the fact that Brandon smoked. He couldn't explain why, but there was something about the knowledge that he'd quit smoking while Brandon probably couldn't go more than an hour without a cigarette that turned Luke on.

The thought of Brandon smoking had, in fact, become a regular part of Luke's fantasies. All the simple things that he and Brandon might do together took on, in these reveries, an erotic element, given that smoking would be part of them. He imagined buying tickets for a movie, and Brandon lighting up outside the theater building before the movie started. He imagined that Brandon would come over to his place on a Friday night and that he'd have to find an ashtray for him so that he could smoke inside. He imagined Brandon having a smoke before and after they went out to dinner. The everyday things would somehow seem more intimate, and thus more erotic, because they'd feature the smell of cigarette smoke and the sight of this attractive man going through pack after pack of Camels.

Luke's favorite fantasy involved the idea of waking up in the morning next to Brandon. He imagined that Brandon would give him a good-morning kiss and then reach for his Camels, which would be sitting next to a near-overflowing ashtray on a bedside table. He imagined the way that Brandon's messy hair, bare chest and well-defined arms would look as lit his first cigarette of the day, the way Brandon might lean his head back against the headboard and slowly blow the smoke out of his mouth. He had come to love the idea of Brandon kissing him as he smoked so that he could taste the smoke on Brandon's breath.

Luke imagined what people would say if they knew that the sight of his buddy smoking turned him on. If they knew that the thought of his buddy's smokey breath turned him on. If they knew that he liked Brandon's smoker's cough. Luke wondered what Brandon himself would say if he knew that Luke liked to watch him smoke and that Luke thought about him smoking in his fantasies.

Brandon checked his watch. "Think we could get away with five more minutes out here?" he asked.

Luke glanced at his watch. "Yeah, probably." They were pressing it, but what the hell. He'd rather be out here with Brandon anyway, and obviously Brandon was in no mood to go back inside.

Brandon reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He took one and placed it between his lips. Luke watched him light it. "Another smoke, huh?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Brandon said. "Thought I'd indulge."

Luke liked the idea that he was so accepting, so tolerant, of Brandon's bad habit, Brandon's filthy vice. It was probably, Luke figured, because when he'd quit smoking it had been a miserable experience, and had made him suspect that abstaining from a major pleasure so that he could live to be 110 wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Brandon smoked and enjoyed his smokes unapologetically. There were some smokers who constantly chewed gum and popped breath mints in efforts to disguise the fact that a few minutes before they'd had a cigarette; Brandon wasn't one of them, and for some reason that made Luke happy. Maybe, Luke thought, I'm living vicariously through the guy.

Not that he himself would ever start again, although God knows, the more he hung out with Brandon, the more he found himself wanting to. Sometimes watching Brandon take those long, deep drags off his cigarettes, sucking that smoke into his lungs and holding it there, was like a form of torture. After all, Luke remembered how much he'd liked the taste of cigarettes, the feeling of smoke in his lungs.

Luke realized that if he did get the time off for this hiking trip, he'd get to see Brandon smoking from morning, afternoon, and evening. Was Brandon's friend Stuart a smoker as well? If so, it would be hard to resist the temptation to have at least one smoke. But he wasn't going to start again. He just wasn't. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much being around Brandon made him want to. No matter how much the fact that Brandon smoked made Luke want to kiss every inch of Brandon's body, starting with his smoker's breath-filled mouth. Of course, as he stood there in the sunlight on that June morning, Luke realized that just thinking about the temptation made him feel a knot of tension and anticipation in his stomach. Maybe I want to be tempted, he thought.

Later that day, Luke asked for and got the time off. He didn't want to concentrate on work, though. The only thing he wanted to think about was the upcoming weekend. He checked the weather forecasts, thought about the supplies he'd need, did some research on the area's trails, and wondered if he'd like Stuart. He wished that it could be just him and Brandon but then thought that he'd probably have a great time anyway At 3:00 he sent Brandon an email: "I heard this awful rumor that there are four days until the weekend officially starts. Is that true?"

Brandon wrote him back a few moments later: "Four days indeed. But just think: you'll finally get to enjoy a Saturday."]]> Mon, 29 Mar 2010 15:28:25 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1748 Cigar And Pipe Smoking http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1747 Sat, 27 Mar 2010 23:21:59 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1747 Marlboro Muscle http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1746 Marlboro Muscle - Part 1
Musclesmokethug

________________________________________
Justin and Tony had been dating only a few months. They met at a dance club late one night after Tony bummed a cigarette off Justin. “Marlboros? Fuckin cool man. Love the strong smokes.” Justin’s eyes lit up. He loved smoking. It was his most powerful fetish, and to find another man who appreciated smoking as much as him was his life-long desire.

Justin was 24 years old, about five foot ten with blonde hair and blue eyes. A real looker. He worked out six days a week. Oh yeah, muscle was his second most powerful fetish. Justin was very into pure, unadulterated muscle. He needed muscle on himself and his fantasy lover. With his daily work-outs, and added supplements (i.e. protein and creatine), Justin had so far garnered a 45” chest, 15 ½” biceps while maintaining a 30” waist. He was cut, lean, but very muscled-up. And he loved it.

What really got Justin off was muscle and smoke. Everynight after his routine work-out at the New York Sports on 8th and 23rd, Justin would head back to his apartment for a hot mirror session of chaining reds and flexing muscle. His fantasy was that each drag of his Marlboro Red would yield more huge muscle and super-human strength. Fuck, he wanted that bad.

And in Tony he pretty much met his match. A young, Latin homo-thug, Tony was from the Bronx. He smoked at least a pack of Newports a day and worked out every day. At 6’1, Tony had managed almost 200 pounds of pure muscle. His lightly dark-skinned frame sported 47” pecs, 18” biceps and a slim 29” waist. He too loved muscle and wanted more. He didn’t share Justin’s fetish for smoke, but obliged as long as it meant some hard, flexing muscle sex.

It was a cold November evening just before Thanksgiving when Justin and Tony stepped out of the gym. Both dressed in full homo-thug attire: big, black Northface bubble jackets, baggy jeans and timberlands, they each lit up a smoke almost immediately. They loved the thug-wear – the huge bubble jackets making them look both bad-ass and even more fucking huge. Justin often fantasized about busting out of his jacket with real, huge massive power and muscle. Justin, a Red of course and Tony, his usual Newport. Justin had just finished moving into his new apartment on 21st Street, just off 8th Avenue, and was ready for a long night of unpacking. Tony was headed home to the Bronx as he had one last day of work before the long Thanksgiving holiday. They walked and shared a nice hot smoke, before kissing each other good-bye for the night. Tony left Justin with a mouthful of Newport smoke before they went their separate ways, knowing it was exactly what Justin liked. “Fuck yeah,” was Justin’s only response. It totally made him feel so fuckin pumped.

Justin walked into his new pad, with a second Marlboro in his teeth. He was not looking forward to a long night of unpacking. The full-length mirror was already uncovered, so he took a moment to take a look at himself, smoking in his Northface, looking so fucking huge. He loved that feeling. Made him hard almost immediately. He loved the idea of living alone and filling his new place with thick Marlboro smoke.

As Justin worked around the apartment, dressed in nothing but gym shorts, always sporting a Red between his lips, he came across a vase in the corner, by the kitchenette. Weird. “That’s not mine,” he said to himself as he approached the vase. He picked it up. It was pretty ugly, and very dusty. “Must’ve been left here by the previous tenant.”

He began to wipe it clean, and as he was about to just throw it in with the trash, it flew out of his hand. “Fuck!” The vase landed on the floor and smoke began to erupt from it. And the next thing Justin knew, a woman was standing in front of him in the apartment.

“What the fuck? Who are you?”

“I came from that vase.”

“What? Fuck no. How did you get in here?”

“You released me from my vase. And for that I shall repay you.”

“Huh?”

“Your wish is my command. I grant you three wishes. You may wish whatever it is you crave. After that, me and the vase will be out of your life forever.”

“What? I don’t get this.”

“There’s nothing to get. You are granted three wishes.”

“Three wishes?”

“Yes.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Justin didn’t have to think. He knew what he wanted. But he had to be able to explain it perfectly.

“Well, first I would like a never-ending carton of Marlboro Reds. Every time the carton empties or is taken away, a new carton appears in its place.”

“Granted.”

“And those Marlboro Reds will provide me with huge muscle and strength. I mean, every cigarette and every drag will give me more muscle and more superhuman strength. I’m talking muscled pecs, biceps, thighs, chiseled abs, the works.”

“Granted.”

“And anyone I choose to smoke those Reds will also see increased muscle and strength.”

“Done.” And with that the woman disappeared along with her vase.

Justin was not sure what to think. He was left alone in his apartment. Nothing had happened. He managed to chain three more Reds, but no new muscle. The only cigarettes in the room were the carton he had bought himself earlier that day. And they didn’t seem to be doing the trick.

“What a fuckin cunt.” He flexed in the mirror, but no more muscle than he had earlier. “Maybe this was all a dream.” Justin could not explain what happened. “That was some fucked up shit, whatever it was,” as he peered at the end of his smoke.

Justin went about his business cleaning and unpacking. But, as he threw some clothes into each drawer of the dresser, he found a surprise waiting for him in the bottom drawer. A carton of Marlboro Reds.

“Fuck! This must be it.” Justin grabbed the carton and ripped out a pack. But what should happen? Because he’d taken the first carton out of the drawer, a second appeared in its place. “This is it! This is fuckin it!” He packed that first pack of Reds and lit up immediately. It tasted the same. But he knew something would happen.

After about an hour of chaining Reds and watching himself in the mirror, Justin suddenly both saw and felt something. He had put on a tank top to accentuate any increased size, should it really happen. And happen it did.

The warmth Justin felt was incredible. He had been feeling it the whole time. And now he saw the results. Muscles were bulging where they’d never bulged before. He stood, taking deep drags of his Red, holding up a double-bicep pose in the mirror. Looking at his biceps grow, literally with every drag. His pecs were pushing out from behind the tank. They were bulging and increasing with size every minute. He felt great. He felt fucking HUGE. “FUCK YEAH,” he screamed, smoke billowing from his lips. The tank began to tear down the middle. The rips became more pronounced as he flexed his chest and moved into a most muscular pose.

All the time, the Red dangling from his lips. The fucking muscled-power smoke of his Red filling his body with new, HUGE, MASSIVE, MUSCLE.

As he watched him rip out of his tank and shorts, he stroked his hard cock, hard and fast. With one bicep flexed and the other arm stroking his cock, and with yet another Red dangling, he managing to cum. And cum buckets. He fucking came all over that mirror and the floor around him. The orgasm was incredible and his size appeared to increase as he came. “AHHHH! FUCK YEAH! FUCKING HUGE MARLBORO MUSCLE! I FUCKIN NEED MORE HUGE MUSCLE. MORE SMOKE. OH FUCK YEAH!” was all he could scream as the orgasm seemed to last forever.

Justin knew his life would be different now. Marlboros and muscle. That was all he needed. He was now the hottest, biggest fucking Marlboro muscle thug he’d ever come across. He looked himself over. Huge smooth pecs that must’ve hit at least 50”. Biceps that peaked at 21 or 22”. And legs – fuckin massive tree trunks of pure muscle and power. His dick got hard at the site of his new muscled-up bod. And this was only the beginning. He was hard just looking at himself and thinking about future MARLBORO MUSCLE GROWTH.

And now it was time to let Tony know.

SmokinMen Story Archive
Marlboro Muscle - Part 2

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Tony’s phone was ringing as he walked into the apartment.

“Hello?”

“Hey bro, it’s me.”

“Justin. What’s up? You miss me already?”

“I do actually,” Justin responded with an evil grin and a deep drag of his muscle-growing Red. “I’m kinda horned up.”

Laughing, Tony responded as he lit up another Newport, “Yeah? Well jerk off then!”

“I did already. Didn’t help.” Justin took another hard drag off the Red, watching himself in the mirror. His bicep was ballooning past 22” and his dick was harder than ever. Fuck yeah, he thought to himself. Muscle and smoke. My fantasy come true. “I need you.” After a slight pause, “Can you come back downtown? Hang out for a bit?” Justin didn’t want to reveal his newly found secret.

Tony sighed. Damn, he thought. All the way downtown for a fuck. He took another deep drag from his Newport, knowing how horned up he was himself after a hard work-out. “Fuck yeah, I’ll come. But only because I’m pretty horned up myself bro.”

“I’ll see ya in a bit. Take a cab.” And Justin hung up. He returned to the mirror, this time slipping into his now, tight-fitting Northface bubble jacket. The down nylon jacket felt so cool against his body, but damn, it was tight. He’d always imagined himself actually filling up the jacket – his muscle matching the puffiness of the down nylon. And his fantasy had come true. His pecs protruded through the jacket. There was no holding them. And as he stood, flexed and smoking Red after Red, fucking stroking his hard cock, he felt his muscle growing. His pecs were pushing out against the bubble jacket, through the front of the jacket and pushing the zipper aside. His biceps were quickly filling the puffiness of the sleeves. He could feel the nylon stretching. Stretching tighter and faster, as he flexed hard. Simultaneously, he dragged hard on the Red, flexed a double bicep pose and came. Came shitloads again – only this time…this time…the muscle tore through that jacket. Fucking huge biceps ripping through the sleeve. Pecs and lats pulling the front and sides of the jacket apart. The jackets tore to pieces over his now even-bigger muscled-up frame. Down feathers flew everywhere. Shreds of nylon lay all over the floor, mixed in his muscle smoke juice. And he just stood there, almost satisfied, puffing furiously at the rest of his Marlboro Red.

“Fuck yeah. I’m fucking bringing new meaning to the term Marlboro Man.” He watched himself, covered in nylon, cum and feathers, smoke filling the room as he lit two more for himself. His massive chest increasing as he took deep drags – muscle Marlboro smoke filling his growing pecs. He only wanted to smoke more. He only wanted more Marlboro muscle.

The door buzzed, waking Justin out of his moment of pure lust and ecstasy. It was his boy. And he was ready to change his life too.

Justin still had the remains of two Reds in his lips when he answered the door.

“Fuck bro! You are horned up. Smoke everywhere…two smokes in your mouth…holy shit!?!?!?” Tony’s mouth was left wide open as Justin rushed him inside.

“What the fuck happened?? Dude – all that fucking muscle?? What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know man. Something’s wrong. I’m all horned up. My muscle is growing – not what the fuck is going on.” Justin wasn’t about to reveal his secret so quickly.

Tony was both confused and aroused. He didn’t know whether to run or to kneel down and start sucking his cock while he felt up his hugely massive pecs.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Justin – what did you take? What have you done?”

“Man – calm down. I think it’s hot. I must’ve overdone the protein shake.”

“Protein shake? Dude – I’m not an idiot. Even steroids don’t work like that? I mean, I just saw you like two hours ago? What the fuck?”

Justin was bored with all this. He lit up two more smokes, took a deep inhale, and handed one to Tony as he grabbed his head and kissed him, blowing all his smoke into Tony. Tony grabbed his pecs and his biceps and his cock grew immediately hard. He noticed the nylon and feathers scattered around the room.

“Justin – what the fuck is that?”

“It was my jacket – the Northface. Fuckin shreds now,” Justin responded, quietly flexing, thinking about his new strength and power. He was close to cumming just thinking about his huge muscle. “Dude, I put it on and flexed. And the fucking think ripped to pieces. So hot.” Justin was in ecstasy of his own muscle and power.

But he couldn’t wait. He lit up two more Reds and handed another to Tony. “Smoke more bro. You know how much it turns me on. Fuck man – smoke 3!” And he gave Tony 3 Reds. Tony obliged as always, but was having trouble making sense of everything. And the smoke was affecting him like never before. He was feeling warm, almost queasy. His muscles ached. But he got hard just watching Justin as Justin continued to flex and smoke in the mirror. Tony was now very curious.

“How Justin? WHAT did you do?” Tony couldn’t help thinking, this was what he wanted too. “I mean, is it safe? Could it happen to me?” His cock was stirring.

“Just keep smoking bro. You keep me hard that way. You know that.” Justin lit another 3 for Tony, and blew his own smoke down his lungs. He could only imagine what huge muscle would erupt from Tony’s body.

Tony began to take his own black puffy Northface off. “No man,” Justin stopped him. “Keep it on – you know I like that too.”

Damn, Tony thought to himself. Justin is more horned up than usual. But Tony just kept smoking. Kept feeling warm. Kept feeling horny. He felt really strange.

“Dude, I think all this heavy smoking is getting to me. I feel all warm or something,” Tony said. This pleased Justin. It was working. And working fast.

And then it happened.

“Dude, something’s happening,” Tony exclaimed. “My muscles feel strange. They’re tightening up. Flexing on their own.”

Justin just grinned at him.

“Fuck, Justin. I feel hot. I mean, I feel so big, so masculine. What’s going on?” And at that point, Tony realized his muscles were growing. He sort of grinned and felt his pecs and biceps from inside his jacket. He could feel his jeans tightening. “Holy shit Justin, I’m growing. I’m growing too.”

“Fuck yeah you are bro. You’re gonna be fucking HUGE too,” Justin responded as he stroked his cock hard and grabbed Tony from behind. He placed him in front of the mirror and ripped his pants off his body with one tug. He looked at Tony’s muscle ass tightening up and growing more muscular as he smoked hard on his Reds. “Fuck yeah! Just what I need. I need to fuck now. Fuck with all this HUGE MUSCLE.”

And with that, Justin shoved his hard cock up Tony’s muscle bubble butt, and fucked hard and fast. The two growing muscle thugs watching each other in the mirror. Justin was chaining Reds hard now and forcing them on Tony. Tony just stroked his cock harder and harder.

“Oh fuck, Justin, feels so good. Feel so strong. So much fuckin HUGE muscle.”

“Fuck yeah boy, gonna fill you up with my muscle juice. Oh yeah, bro, I’m gonna cum. GOTTA FUCKIN FLEX IT!”

“FUCK YEAH, MAN, FUCK ME HARD. FUCKING SHOW ME THAT HUGE MUSCLE. GET BIG. LET’S FUCKIN GROW. FLEX IT BRO!”

And they both flexed and came, dragging hard on their smokes, watching it all in the mirror before them. And Tony’s muscle flexed so hard, his muscles, like Justin before him, tore through the jacket. Biceps ripping through the arms, pecs ripping through the zipper and lats tearing into the sides. For Justin’s second time, the orgasm was full of muscle juice, smoke, ripped nylon and down feathers. And it felt fucking awesome. Tony stood up and looked at himself, posing a huge double biceps. “FUCK YEAH BRO. THIS IS HUGE MUTHAFUCKIN MUSCLE!”

Justin lit up another Red for Tony.

“Yeah dude. It’s Marlboro Muscle.”


SmokinMen Story Archive
Marlboro Muscle - Part 3

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tony chained through five Reds as Justin told him what happened. They both just sat there, on the floor, dragging hard, looking at each other, looking into the mirror. Two hot muscle boys, ripped with hard huge muscle, sitting there naked, smoke coming from their mouths and noses. Both hard as hell.

Tony stood up to take a long hard look at himself in the mirror. He posed another double bi, with his red stuck firmly between his lips. His cock stood at attention, hard and big, throbbing for more.

“I don’t know what to say, Jus. All I know is I fucking love this. I love having this huge muscle. I love taking in these deep drags and watching it turn my body into something massive and fucking incredible.”

Tony grabbed Justin – he picked him up with one hand and put him up in the air. Justin just grinned, with two reds in his mouth, dragging deep.

“Can you imagine our strength – our fucking power?”

“It’s fucking Marlboro strength, Marlboro POWER,” Justin responded. “It’s my fantasy come true.”

“Dude. I need to fuck and fuck hard.” And with that, he took Justin and placed him on his cock. He just stood there and watched himself in that mirror, his cock alone holding Justin in the air. “Fuck! Even my cock has the fucking power.” Tony started fucking hard as he lit himself up two more Marlboros. “Flex for me bro as I fuck you deep and fuck you hard,” Tony demanded. And Justin was only too happy to oblige.

“Fuck yeah dude, fuck me harder! Fuck me with all that smoke and Marlboro Muscle,” Justin repeated as he took hard drags of his Reds and fucking flexed his now massive biceps. Tony responded by thrusting up and down, Justin sliding on his cock, taking deep drags himself and flexing his own huge biceps.

“I need more smoke, need more muscle, more Reds, more fucking HUGE muscle,” Tony said over and over again until he fucking came so hard, his cum seeped out of Justin’s ass and all over the mirror and the floor. The orgasm was so intense, his muscles flexed so hard and so huge, Justin slid right off his cock and onto the floor. Justin came at that moment, sitting on the floor, taking deep drags with every ounce of cum spurting, watching himself in that mirror as he grew and grew – Justin was becoming a massive bodybuilder at this point, with huge Marlboro Muscle growing atop more muscle.

Tony lay on the floor smoking another Red when it occurred to him that Justin and he could have anyone they wanted. And he wanted to find some high school muscle jock thugs that he could turn into Marlboro Muscle studs like he and Justin. This would be his life now. Marlboros and muscle.




]]> Sat, 27 Mar 2010 11:13:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1746 Does Anyone Have The Vids With These Pipesmokin Guys= http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1745
Hope someone can help. I've been looking everywhere for the vids from which these shots are taken. Does anyone have them - or knows where I can find em?

I have special interest in the two vids where the guys inhale heavily - it's so damn hot!!!

Does anyone have vids of younger guys inhaling heavily from their pipes!

Cheers!

]]> Sat, 27 Mar 2010 10:42:32 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1745 As Mentioned In Who Have You Started http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1744 Have a preset ready for any that are interested - set for Leather Cigar Bois, you need subviewer installed but happy to EMail the file to anyone interested Sat, 27 Mar 2010 05:04:21 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1744 Repost Request: Marlboro Muscle http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1743
Thanks!]]> Sat, 27 Mar 2010 01:00:49 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1743 Me In Nyc http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1742 Hey guys 28 bi smoker / sub kinda guy / virgin looking for some fun. hit me up. Fri, 26 Mar 2010 21:24:41 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1742 Chainsmoking Houseboy Wanted http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1741
I am in San Francisco. Relocation possible (after we get to know each other very well, of course). If interested, write me directly at: jacker AT darkfigure DOT org. Thanks, and keep smoking!]]> Fri, 26 Mar 2010 16:09:31 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1741 Basement Fun Part 1 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1740 Fri, 26 Mar 2010 15:35:45 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1740 Tale Of The 1st Time (short Story) http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1739 Fri, 26 Mar 2010 10:26:07 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1739 New York City http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1737 Wed, 24 Mar 2010 09:48:08 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1737 Add Any Cool Lighters To Your Collection Lately? http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1736 Used to have several nice Zippos - a modest little collection of designs that I had run across
over the years that I thought were worth shelling out $25-$35 for. Unfortunately, all were lost
in a house fire the day before Labor Day so I'm starting over again.

First one I came across at a gas station/convenience store that caught my eye. It's not a real
zippo, but liked the looks of it (and for $4.99 I could hardly leave it sitting on the shelf.......)


WINGED DEMON

The latest addition was this genuine Zippo I found at a local tobacco shop last week. Spending
$30 for a lighter was the *last* thing I needed to be doing that afternoon, but there was no way
I could not buy this one......
BIO-HAZARD

Anyone else pick up a cool Zippo lately and want to show it off?

What's the best looking Zippo you ever had?]]> Tue, 23 Mar 2010 19:26:33 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1736 Leather Gear http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1734
ChevyMarlboroGuy]]> Tue, 23 Mar 2010 13:26:40 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1734 Received In Personal Message http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1733
hi
sorry borgin you
i am mark, and i am from brazil, i am smoker guy and love men smoking

i saw you put pictures from jesse metfalfe smoking.

i know he smokes in real life. but some pictures that you put, means from some movie.

you can tell me what movie is about these picture, when he smokes.

is one of them from he smoking: http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?autocom...i&img=67866

i wanna know what movie is for me to watch.

thank you man a hot site here
hugs
]]> Tue, 23 Mar 2010 12:47:00 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1733 Me And My Pro-smoking Doctor http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1732
I just turned 21 a couple months ago, and my smoking has increased steadily over the years. When I was little, I developed athsma, but that never stopped my dad from smoking heavily around me, nor did it stop me from smoking everytime I got the chance.

Several months ago, my athsma landed me in the hospital. Course they asked me if I was a smoker, and I had to say yes, and their immediate response to me was to quit. I didn't like the thought that I would have to give up something I loved to do. So once I got out of the hospital, I started right back to smokiing. I was able to keep my athsma under control somewhat, but I ended up having to find a doctor, general practioner, to see what I could do to help control my increasingly frequent asthma attacks. I wasn't going to go back to the hospital, that's for sure.

So I looked around for a general practioner and finally found one that I thought I might like. He was a new doctor in the practice. A young guy, really well built and super good looking. I'm not gay, I'm not married either, but I have two little boys of my own, both from two different women. Their mothers have full custody of my boys, but I do get to see them regularly. While I know I'm not gay, I also know that I'm not 100% heterosexual either. I find myself attracted to really good looking men, generally around my age or even older. If they're well built, and good looking, I find myself fantasizing about being with them.

So when I got the chance to get Dr. Dan as my primary physician, I thought, damn, that'd be great. Dr. Dan is slim, well built, works out and looks like he could get any girl (or guy) he wanted. I didn't notice a ring on his finger, so I assumed he was not married. My first appointment with Dr. Dan was pretty cool -- a fantasy really. He asked me what was going on, why I was here to see him. I told him about my asthma attacks and that they were getting worse, and wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help me out, maybe increase my inhaler prescription or something. Course his first question was "Are you a smoker?" Dammit! I thought. "Well, yeah, I smoke," I said. To my utter amazement, he said, ok, that's cool. How much do you smoke? And I said, I'm up to 2 packs a day right now, sometimes more. He wanted to know what type of cigarettes I smoke, and I said I smoke Reds. He said, again to my amazement, "Oh yeah? So do I". I thought to myself "What!!?" A doctor who smokes. I was caught between thinkin how cool that was and how odd that was ... a doctor who smoked! Man, who woulda thought.

He asked me if I ever thought about quitting smoking. I said, no, not really. I like it too much, and the times I tried to quit, I just ended up smoking more. He said that quitting smoking is hard, especially if the addiction is not only physical, but emotional as well. He said he also tried quitting, mainly because he realized how being a doctor who smokes is not necessarily a good role model to the rest of the doctors in his practice.

He told me that he thought he could help me control my asthma attacks and still keep smoking. He said if he asked me to quit, he'd feel like a hypocrit because if he couldn't stop smoking, how can he ask someone else to stop either. He said that smoking isn't looked at as healthy, but it also doesn't mean that men couldn't enjoy smoking when it's something they feel so strongly about and makes them happy. He suggested that instead of stopping smoking, I should consider smoking unfiltered cigarettes. I was like, "What??!" He laughed and he said many filtered cigarettes contain chemicals that actually make asthmatics feel worse. He said if I smoked unfiltered cigarettes, I would be able to take in more smoke, but that it shouldn't affect my asthma if we upped my inhaler presciption. He suggested I look at Pall Mall's or Camel unfiltereds. I said I tried the Pall Mall's, but didn't care for the taste of them. My dad smoked Camel unfiltereds, and I smoked some of his back in the day, and I liked them. I just never realized that unfiltered cigarettes would be BETTER for me as an athsmatic. He said he feels confident that they would.

A few weeks went by and I had been smoking a lot of Camels, but also supplementing with the Reds, because they're my first love. I often cut the filter off the Reds and smoked them that way, and that seemed to work pretty good. I noticed with the increased inhaler presciption and smoking unfiltereds that my asthma actually was getting better. Fewer asthma attacks, and much better breathing.

My next appointment with Dr. Dan went great. He noticed that I had improved since he last saw me. I'd dropped about 20 pounds in a very short time, and was now really slim, much like the doc. I also work out and so I was building up a lot of muscle. Now that I could breathe better, I could work out more. Dr. Dan wanted to do a full exam this time. He asked me to strip down into one of those gowns. Oddly, when he said to do that, he didn't leave the room. He stayed there while I undressed and when I left my underwear on, he said to take those off too. I'm not really a shy guy, but I thouht this seemed a little odd. He was checkin me out, clearly, when I undressed and when he got a glimpse of my cock, he said "Man, your a luckiy man, aren't you?" My cock is 8 1/2 inches, and I had always gotten compliements from women on it, but never from a guy, let alone a doctor. I sat up on the table and he started the exam. I couldn't help but think, why is he having me strip down to check out my asthma. He started doing the regular check up, used the stethoscope to check my heart and lungs, and then started checking out my legs and worked his way up to my groin area. He said, "I want to do a check of your prostate". Weird, but ok. You're the doc. His check of my groin area slowly moved to checking my cock. He ran his fingers up and down my cock and I couldn't help it, but I started getting hard. I kind of got a little shy then, but he said, relax, it's all part of the physical. Physical? I didn't think I was here for a physical.

As the doctor continued to check out my cock, he said, I'm impressed. You've got a really nice dick man. What?! I then pulled back and said something like "What the hell is goin on here?!" He smiled and said, I'm really attracted to you, I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong, but I find you to be really attractive. Are you bi? He asked. I sort of stumbled with my words. Uh, no. I said right off, but then I said, well, maybe. I don't know really. I've never been with another guy before if that's what you're asking. He said, well, I have, and let me tell you, it can be really sensual. You don't have to be gay to enjoy having sex or a blow job from another guy. In fact, all guys do it. Smokers mostly. Guys who smoke are really all bi in some way or another. There's nothing like laying back, smoking a cigarette and having a guy give you the best head of your life.

He then asked me if I'd be interested in meeting him after work and going to his place. I said, well, I'm kind of interested yeah. I find you attractive and to be honest, I have sort of fantasized about you since I first met you. He said, yeah, I've fantasized about you too. I asked him, do you do this with all your patients? Kind of chuckling. He said, no, I don't. In fact, you're the first. I've been with other guys before in med school, and it was amazing. I just got this sense from you that you might be interested in exploring where this could go.

After the exam, I agreed to meet him in the doctor's office parking lot. When he got off work, I was waiting in my truck and he came over and said, come with me. I followed him to his jeep and immediately when I got in, I could smell the stale smoke and saw the ashtray was completely overflowing. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit up a Red. I did the same, but pulled out one of my Camels. He said, good, you're smoking unfiltereds. I tell ya, they're going to help you with your asthma.

We drove quite a while, both smoking cigarette after cigarette and then finally got to his place. For a doctor, his place was a small, older home. He pulled up the driveway and we got out and went into the house. Again, the smell of stale smoke hit me when I first walked in. He had ashtrays all over the place, and all were full. He asked me if I wanted a beer. I was like, sure. We both opened up a bottle of beer and started drinking. About an hour went by, and we smoked a lot of cigarettes and drank a lot of beer. One after the other. I was starting to get a real buzz goin. Any apprehension I felt was completely gone. I was now thinking, when am I gonna get that BJ?

I was sittin in a chair, and he was on the couch. He said, come over here. I did, and he put his arm around me and started feeling me up. My cock was getting even harder and harder and grew so much that I had to unbutton my pants. He moved my hand away and started unbuttoning my pants for me. Then he continued to stroke my cock through my underwear. They were a little wet from precum already. He bent down and kissed my cock through my underwear and licked the wet part of my underwear where the precum was seeping through. He then pulled my pants completely down to my ankles and then did the same with my underwear. My 8 1/2 hard cock was now exposed. As the underwear came down, my cock stood up to attention, freed from the restriction of the tightie whities.

Dan (no longer Dr. Dan as we are now past formalities) put his mouth over the tip of my cock and started sucking out my precum. Damn! I thought, Dan was right, this IS hot. He then started licking my cock up one side and down the other. The feeling was something I never experienced before. No woman has ever made me feel this hot. I had to work hard to keep from spewing my load too quickly. I didn't want this feeling to end. Dan kissed every inch of my cock and put his mouth over my whole cock taking in as much of it as he could. He started really sucking hard on my cock and it almost felt like someone had put a vacuum on my cock he was sucking so hard. I reached over to feel his cock and it was as hard as a rock. He too was blessed with a big cock, not sure at that moment how big he was, but I guessed he was about as big as me, if not bigger.

As I stroked his cock through his pants, he sucked me even harder and would occasionally come up for air and kiss the tip of my cock, again, licking off any precum that was there. I felt like I could just spew my load right then and there, but again, tried damn hard not to. Up and down, up and down, up and down he went on my cock. My god, I can't take this anymore. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I wondered if he wanted me to cum in his mouth, or did he want me to tell him when I was gonna cum so that he could pull away. I couldn't take it anymore, so I said, I'm gonna cum. He still had his mouth on my cock, and made an "Mmm, hmmm" sound, so I took it that he wanted me to cum in his mouth. I held back a little bit, maybe 15 or 20 seconds more and then out came what had to be a bucket of cum. He made a pleasing "mmmmm" sound, so I knew he was liking it. I fired about 3 huge shots of cum into his mouth. He didn't balk at all. He swallowed my loads each time and when I was finally done cumming, he licked my entire cock clean.

When he was done, he took a sip of his beer and smiled at me and asked me, well, how was it? I said, "Damn! It was amazing! Better than I've ever had or ever expected." I was out of breath, the loads of cum really took a lot out of me. I don't think I've ever exploded cum like that before in my life.

The whole time he was sucking on my cock, I was enjoying cigarette after cigarette;. I smoked those cigs so hard and each time I exhaled, I blew the smoke down on Dan's head. Afterward, Dan lit up a cigarette of his own and laid back on the couch and was like "Damn!" He felt as good as I did. I asked him, do you want me to return the favor? He said, too late dude, I came too. I looked down at his pants and sure enough, they were soaked with his cum. I said, Man, I would have liked to have that. You helped me cum like I never have before, the least I could have done was to return the favor and take your cum. Dan said, that's ok, there will be time for that. I'm into you, and I think you're into me. We can do this every day if you want to. I'm so attracted to you and I think you are to me too. I nodded and said, oh hell yeah.

We sat around for a while, both smokin heavily and drinking beers. About 3 hours went by and we did a lot of kissing and stroking, smoking and drinking. He said, well, my bud, time to take you back to your truck. As we drove back to the dr's office to get my truck, we talked about how great this night was for us and when we're going to do this again. When we got to the office parking lot, the lot was empty by then, so I leaned over and gave him a kiss and he kissed me back. He smiled and said, I need to see you every day man. We're got to do this again, and this time, you can take in my cum.

As I drove home in my truck, I smoked heavily with the windows rolled up. The more I smoked, the more I remembered the feeling I had with Dan and how much I admired this handsome, hot doctor and wanted to get closer to him. My cell phone rang and it was one of my kids' mothers asking me to stop by to pick up my son. Damn, I thought, here I am, drunk and wreaking of smoke. I stopped by their house anyway, and sure enough, got read the riot act from the bitch. "You wreak of smoke and beer. Forget it, I'll call my mom to take Matt." Fine, I thought. I just wanted to go home and reflect on my amazing night with my new buddy. Before the bitch got a chance to slam the door in my face, I lit up a Camel and blew it in the bitch's face and headed home.

When I got home, I saw Dan's jeep in my driveway. I was shocked. How did he know where I lived? I mean, I was happy as hell to see him, but was surprised. "What are you doin here?" I asked. "How did you know know where I lived?" He smiled and said, "Dude, I'm your doctor. I have your records, I know where you live." I was like, oh yeah, right. "Well, what's up?" I asked. Dan said, "This night's not over man. I can't stop thinking about you. I don't want this night to end, do you?" I immediately said, "No, hell no! I don't want it to end either."]]> Mon, 22 Mar 2010 08:09:18 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1732 Site Closing!!! Attention!!! http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1731 Mon, 22 Mar 2010 00:31:09 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1731 Smokers In Chicago http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1730 Sun, 21 Mar 2010 06:37:47 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1730 Lucid Wet - Part I http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1729 By: greedycigarson and Scot Latt

Part I - The Dream

It was a strange wet dream.

Mostly because Jay had never had one before. He'd learned to clear the pipes at an early age, and had never neglected to take care of that particular duty. So it was strange that he would have one, now, out of the blue.

It was a very, very realistic dream, and he thought he would remember it in the morning.

Like all wet dreams, he had a partner: his long-distance friend, Tony. Tony was a pal he'd never met in person- but they'd talked about it many times. There were things in the way of a real relationship though.

For one thing, Tony was in the military, and deeply closeted. For another, Tony was a virgin. Add a thousand miles and a close relationship was unlikely. But they settled for what they could have, masturbating on webcams, and writing a very particular kind of erotic fantasy. Transformation.

Time itself was hard to pin down here, as it always was, in a dream. But in this dream, it seemed EVERYTHING was hard to pin down.

Maybe that wasn't unusual for a dream, but it was certainly unusual for Jay to notice.

He was in sort of a vast in-discrete void, a sort of misty foggy nothing that he both stood on and in. Tony had been about twenty feet away when it started, but he was only a few feet away now.

This sort of formless experience wouldn't be described by most people as a "wet dream," but Jay was already sure that it was. While Tony had been Tony in the beginning, he was looking less and less like Tony as time slipped by.

You couldn't see it happening by watching for it- magic in dreams is always in what you're not looking at. But Jay was aware enough to see the incremental differences, anyway. One moment, Tony was 30. The next moment, he was suddenly younger- Jay knew the number was 22- and in his distraction, wondering how he knew that, he missed Tony sprouting a dense coat of fur over his entire body.

Jay hadn't noticed if Tony had started out naked or not, but he certainly was, now. Dreams were like that, he reasoned, but he was starting to lose interest in the mechanics of the strange dream. What was happening in front of him was more interesting.

Tony was putting on weight, pounds building on top of him slowly but surely. Again, he didn't see any actual swelling, no magical transformation- he'd just be looking at a thick leg, and then his eyes would glide up to see a thicker chest, and then he'd look back at a leg that was thicker, again.

The shape Tony was taking wasn't quite Jay's ideal. A doctor would call him fat, but not to his face. Tony was gaining the dimensions of a very off-season linebacker, his curves widening with thick soft padding that belied the strength of the muscle beneath. His meat would bounce when he walked, but when he flexed, it would swell like Jay's.

That thought seemed off. Jay was chubby, a computer programmer out of work. He didn't flex, and he certainly didn't swell. But he did, now- he looked down and blinked slowly at the body his head was attached to. It wasn't his body- it was somebody else's- except he could feel it. He could feel the weight of his thick heavy arms as they bent upward. His fingers were thick.

He couldn't see his cock under the gut he'd sprouted- a hard slab of roid gut that his hand slapped loudly. He scratched the coat of reddish-orange hair that he hadn't noticed covered it until just that moment. He flexed, and his chest bounced impressively in front of him, puffing outward. He wasn't a linebacker- he was a powerlifter. Not cut, anywhere, but bulging with power. Not exactly what he ususally fantasized, but close enough.

He wasn't hard, though, which suddenly struck him as strange.

He looked back up at Tony. Tony's hair had gone red while he wasn't looking. Also, for some reason, he was now clothed. He was wearing a wife-beater stretched thin over his bulky torso, which didn't quite meet the top of his pants, black jeans that were the perfect size to hold his big ass and legs. A silver chain hung from a belt loop and around the back, presumably to a wallet.

It was fitting attire for a young biker, but Jay wondered why Tony had gone from naked to clothed. That was the reverse of what a wet dream should be, wasn't it? Then again, he was clothed too, now, but he couldn't look down to see what he was wearing.

"Hey bro," he felt and heard himself say. It felt like something he wanted to say, like something he might say- but he hadn't meant to say it.

Jay began to suspect that while this was a pleasant enough dream, it wasn't HIS dream.

"Hey," Tony said in an unfamiliar voice. Jay reasoned that that was because Tony's entire body- even his face, now- was radically different than before. "What's up?" he asked.

They were on even ground now, standing less than two feet away from each other- space mostly occupied by their guts. Jay suddenly realized that he could now reach Tony, interact with him. He hadn't realized that he couldn't, before. He also hadn't noticed that he was smoking a cigar, and at least this one he figured was probably new.

He took a deep pull off his cigar and blew nose jets into the air. "I was thinking," Jay felt himself begin. He was apparently in for the ride, even if he wasn't at the wheel. He decided that didn't bother him.

"Yeah?" Tony said, looking hopeful.

"I was thinking," Jay repeated. "That it's time for what we talked about. School's over, now. That was the agreement," he said.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, attempting to mask his eagerness with a somber fce.

"You ready for it?" Jay asked.

Tony hesitated. He was preparing himself mentally for something. Jay didn't wait for the answer. He lunged forward, rotating to the side around Tony, and placed him in a headlock. Their guts were pressed into each other, and Jay's face brushed Tony's. Jay felt their thick stubble scrape against each other. His cigar loomed in front of them both.

With his free hand, Jay fished his dip can out of his back pocket. He flipped the lid off with his thumb, then passed the can to the arm holding Tony's stiff neck. Tony was rigid, breathing hard. Jay could feel Tony's rapid pulse in his neck. Jay worried that he should back off- but his body didn't respond.

He took a pinch from the can. "Time to lipper up, bro. Real men chew," he said. Jay held the snuff up to Tony's mouth- paused to let him get a good sniff- and then plunged it into Tony's mouth.

As Jay deftly- and a little too firmly- packed the lipper in Tony's lip, he thought that he'd figured out what was going on. This was a scene he'd written. He played with the idea that he was dreaming out his own literary creation, and discarded it. He had never written it quite this way, before. And when they wrote, they wrote collaboratively- a little of both their ideas. This was...

This was Tony's dream.

"Not quite enough," Jay interrupted himself. He took a second pinch, the same size as the first, and packed it in the same spot. "There we go. You like that, bro?"

Tony started to answer, but Jay tightened his grip on his neck Tony tensed, then simply nodded.

"Good," Jay said. His voice sounded different. He blew a cloud of smoke in Tony's face. When the smoke cleared, Tony's face had undergone a second makeover. It was a roundish face, with a heavy thick brow and a small nose. Or maybe the nose only looked small compared to the 4g captive bead septum ring in it. His eyebrow on Jay's side was pierced with a circular barbell. Jay couldn't see the other side.

Jay was observing that while his hand traveled downward to Tony's crotch. He patted firmly, feeling out the cock there. It was hard. "Very good," Jay cooed, his voice another notch deeper.

Jay adeptly undid Tony's belt, and then his pants. He pulled the pants down to Tony's knees in one quick tug. By the feel of it, Tony wasn't wearing underwear. Jay's hand groped for and found Tony's cock sticking out from them.

He gave it a couple long, slow tugs. Longer, Jay thought, than it should have been- he'd just felt it before and it had been average-sized. Now it felt huge, a couple inches thick and a foot long.

"Hold it," Jay commanded, and Tony quickly took his cock in hand. Jay's eye was caught by the movement of color, and he saw that Tony's forearms were covered in red and orange flames. Tattoos. They merged into black tribal bands around the elbow, which rose up almost to his shoulder, where there was something else- but Jay couldn't see what from this angle.

Jay let go, let his hand drift further down- crouching a bit- and gave Tony's balls a firm squeeze. Ball, not balls. One ball filled his hand, like a billiard ball.

"Time for the next part," Jay informed Tony. Tony tensed a bit, in expectation. Jay thought it was funny that Tony knew what Jay was going to do next, when he himself didn't.

He took one last haul from his cigar, then removed it. He held it in front of Tony's face, lengthwise. He ran the length under Tony's nose, brushing the septum. Then he shoved it in between his teeth, forcing his jaw open. He let go and patted Tony's jaw from below, encouraging a firm grip.

"How do you like that? Almost a man, now," Jay said. There was pride in his voice. Jay's hand weaseled down to Tony's left tit, opposite Jay. It was huge- about half an inch wide and longer than that, and it had a thick metal ring through it. Jay gripped it and twisted it as he pulled, allowing his fingers to slide down and tug the metal. Tony went a little limp and he moaned in response, a deep manly moan around the cigar in his mouth, before Jay let go.

There was a pause then as both men caught their breath. Tony smoked his cigar in silence, just a little unpracticed, but it probably wasn't his first cigar. Jay hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings, in the close-up excitement, but he was becoming aware that they were in a room, now.

It was mostly bare. There was carpet on the floor, and a window about ten feet away. He could see a nightstand out of the corner of his eye, but no bed. Other than that there was a conspicuous lack of furniture- just a couple of hanging mirrors on the wall. Had the mirrors been there a moment ago?

The pause was over, then. Jay returned his pipe to his jaw- a large bent briar, already smoking, as though he'd had it all along.

His cock was rock hard and pressed into his jeans, and into Tony, painfully. He adjusted, shuffling backward a half step, and his hand went to his pants. He undid the button and jerked them down, freeing his cock. It bounced upward, slapping into Tony's balls, and Tony's body flinched.

Jay licked his hand and reached down, kneading his cockhead between Tony's legs. It hardly surprised him that his cock matched Tony's, now- in fact, he might have been more surprised if it hadn't. He wasn't surprised that he had a thick ring in his piss slit either. Still, it was a hell of a tool for a first fuck, which is where he correctly guessed this was going.

"Get ready," he warned. He relaxed his grip on Tony's neck, and Tony took a deep breath.

That was all the warning he got. Jay jerked Tony sideways, pointing him towards the wall on their left, and then shoved him forward, hard. Tony barely caught himself with both arms, the end of his cigar almost brushing the wall. Jay was just as surprised as Tony- more so, perhaps, because Tony was bigger now than he'd been seconds ago, about 6'3 to his own 5'10.

Jay's body didn't seem to care. He was gripping Tony on both sides, and his cock was lining up. He let his cock rest, the head pressed against Tony's crack. "DON'T drop the cigar," he warned.

Tony nodded.

Jay drove his cock home. Suddenly, he didn't care at all about being in someone else's dream. He didn't care that he wasn't really in control of his thrusts. That was all minor shit compared to fucking the big, hairy, beefy cub in front of him with his thick foot long tool. He looked down at himself and saw his big arms gripping Tony's big gut. His meaty chest and gut under a tight white muscle tee and a shiny black leather harness. The shiny toes of black motorcycle boots far below.

He thought he'd cum then, but something was holding him back. It wasn't time, yet. Tony was moaning in unison with Jay's thrusts. Jay picked up the pace, pounding harder, causing their bodies to meet with sweat-sticky smacks. Then he felt Tony's knees buckle.

His arms moved in perfect time to catch Tony's armpits in his elbows. His chest and arms flexed beautifully as they supported Tony's weight. Tony's hips bucked, and Jay thrust in perfect unison- and Tony came. Jay could hear the splattering sounds of liquid hitting the wall, five, six times.

On the sixth, Jay came, his cock spasming inside the limp body of Tony. Two, three shots and he was done, just as Tony was finished. His arm began to go limp, and they suddenly tumbled forward.

Jay thought, hazily, that Tony had lost his grip on the wall- but as they fell forward, it became obvious that the wall had lost Tony. The wall was not there, and the floor that they fell to was not a floor, but a bed. Jay landed on Tony, and instinctively pinned him with his arms. His pipe was gone, Tony's cigar was gone, and Jay nuzzled Tony's neck, his full beard bristling against it.

As he fell asleep, Jay thought it was quite strange to fall asleep in a dream.

---]]> Sat, 20 Mar 2010 12:49:26 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1729 Advice For Chain Smoker http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1728
I'm finding it nearly impossible to stop chaining these days. I'm wondering if anyone has any suggestions on how to handle the cravings so that I can maybe last about 10 minutes or so?]]> Sat, 20 Mar 2010 09:54:45 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1728 Blank Slate Boy http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1727 This story contains elements of mind control, tobacco use, alcohol use, illegal drug use, and prostitution. Please do not read if any of this offends you.
I would love to hear feedback, positive and negative. Please send to sub_zero_601@yahoo.com
Thanks, and I hope you enjoy
**************


The Blank Slate Boy Stories

Jeremy was an all-American seventeen-year-old boy-next-door raised in the rural county of Emporia in Virginia. He was an only child and lived with his parents on his grandfather’s old tobacco farm. Jeremy was close with his Dad, who had taught him at a young age how to be a man and work the land. He was everything he should have been—smart and good in school, into sports and video games, friends with everyone and had a steady girlfriend. With green eyes and even-toned tan skin to match his winning smile, Jeremy had been a natural heartbreaker since middle school. At the top of his 5’9” frame was sandy brown, almost blond, hair. He was skinny but had defined outlines of a six-pack. And like any normal teenager, he spent his free time hanging out with his friends and his girl. Surely, he was a model product of the American dream. But all that changed when Jeremy became…

…the dealer’s addict.

The summer after his junior year of high school, Jeremy’s parents lost their farm and were forced to move to the city of Richmond. His mom started cleaning houses and his Dad took a job as a painter and rented a tiny apartment right around the corner from the housing projects. Jeremy’s Dad knew he needed help making ends meet for awhile, so he forced his son to quit school and go out to find a job instead. Jeremy was bummed about not being able to be a senior in high school, but he was a duty-oriented, devoted son and wanted to please his Dad.

After a week of moving and unpacking, Jeremy started out into the streets to find a job. The first thing Jeremy noticed was the fact that there were no other white people walking around or even driving through this part of town. It was so dirty and run-down; most of the buildings had busted out windows and were tagged with spray paint. He missed his small town and his old life, but he knew he could make the most of this, somehow. He stopped into a convenience store that was clearly a former 7-Eleven. It was probably half a mile down the street from his apartment, so Jeremy thought this would be a decent place to work as he didn’t have a car.

As he entered the parking lot, which was cracked and stained with oil spots, he looked up at the hand-painted sign that read “Elrod’s Stop and Go.” The store front was littered with cigarette advertisements and neon lottery signs. The windows were covered by a latticework of thick black iron bars. The bells on the door jingled as he walked inside to dirty floors, dusty shelves, and a heavy odor of smoke. He also noticed that more than half of the fluorescent lights overhead were burned out. He walked up to the checkout counter and saw a man sitting in a chair reading a magazine.

“Whatchu want, homes?” the man spoke with a heavy “ghetto” accent.

Jeremy introduced himself and said that he was looking for a job. The man introduced himself as DeQwan, the owner of the store. He looked to be in his late thirties and when he stood up, he was a towering 6’6” at least. He was very dark skinned with dark brown eyes and black cornrows. He was built like he must have been a football player at some point but had put on some weight around the gut. He had a large diamond in each ear, a thick gold necklace and watch, and when he smiled, Jeremy saw that one of his front teeth was capped in gold. DeQwan also sported two tattoos of tears coming from his right eye and the left side of his neck was tattooed with the word “Demateria.”

As they talked, DeQwan told Jeremy that he could use the help around the store because that wasn’t his only business. But DeQwan had some conditions. First, he’d have to take pay that was under minimum wage and under the table. Second, he’d have to educate himself on the culture of the neighborhood because he was liable to get his “white ass killed actin’ all hokey up in hea.” Jeremy was so elated to have gotten a job on his first try, he eagerly accepted. DeQwan told him to be back the next morning at 10 and gave him a list of songs to listen to that night.

Jeremy spent that night listening to the gangsta rap that DeQwan had suggested, paying careful attention to all the lyrics. He also looked up videos on YouTube and tried to learn more about ghetto culture. He was actually excited to go to work the next morning and learn about these people that he had never really been exposed to before.

When he got to the store, DeQwan was waiting. He gave Jeremy a long list of things to do. Stock the shelves and coolers, order candy and chips, mop the floors, clean and wipe things down, inventory the cigarettes, cigars, and beer, and clean the bathroom. DeQwan sat down and started reading a magazine while Jeremy got to work. It would take him forever to get everything done, considering how dirty the store was. He tried to keep a low profile as customers came in and out. He also couldn’t help noticing that DeQwan didn’t do anything around the store but talk to customers, smoke cigarettes, and talk on his cell phone—which rang constantly. No wonder it was such a mess!

Thankfully, the store was only open until 6. At closing time, DeQwan locked the doors and the iron gate, and the two walked out into the parking lot. DeQwan lit up a cigarette then extended the pack to Jeremy, offering him one. Jeremy initially declined saying he didn’t want to get addicted but DeQwan teased him and insisted. With his lit cigarette dangling between his full lips, DeQwan moved to stand close in front of Jeremy and placed a Newport between the boy’s lips. Without even noticing, Jeremy saw DeQwan’s flame dance in front of his face and he instinctively drew his first drag of smoke. He breathed it in deep and coughed like crazy.

“Take it, bruh. Ha ha! You gonn’ be allright. You and dis job gonn’ work out just fine… For bof of us bruh,” DeQwan laughed as he walked towards his shiny black Mercedes, which he started remotely. Before driving off he told Jeremy to keep it up and he’d be a pro-smoker in no time. Jeremy began walking home and finished his first cigarette; each drag made him cough less than the one before.

Jeremy spent his nights over the next week learning more about “ghetto culture” on the internet and talking to people in chat rooms who were living it. He wanted to fit in with the most popular crowds and have a lot of friends like he had in Emporia. He read as much as he could about the pros and cons of “life in the hood.” There was so much he was curious to experience too, like letting go of his inhibitions. He even found himself getting hard at the thought of being “bad” by getting drunk or getting high.

Jeremy had really grown to love his new job and neighborhood. He and DeQwan had actually gotten to be friends. DeQwan was married to his high school girlfriend, Demateria. DeQwan had inherited the store from his Dad, Elrod, who died when DeQwan was Jeremy’s age. He kept the store because it had meant so much to his Dad, but his other business was what brought in the real money. Although DeQwan didn’t tell him what his other business was, Jeremy knew it had to be lucrative. DeQwan definitely had money—all his gold and diamonds were real, his Mercedes was brand new (paid for in cash) and although he was raised in the ‘hood, DeQwan didn’t even live anywhere near it. He lived in a posh, rich neighborhood on the other side of Richmond.

In awe and admiration of his new friend, Jeremy was learning about slang, clothes, music, and essentially everything to do with this new world that he was living. Jeremy had also started smoking regularly. In point of fact, almost every time DeQwan lit up at work, Jeremy did too. And he had really turned the appearance of the store around—it was clean. After his third week, Jeremy didn’t have to work as hard during the days to keep things up so he would chill behind the counter with DeQwan.

One day after he had complained about being bored, DeQwan told Jeremy to grab a 40 from the fridge and down it. Jeremy had admitted he had never been drunk before and DeQwan wanted to see what a country white boy looked like drunk for the first time. Jeremy definitely made his wish come true—he got shit-faced! He was trying to rap and could barely stand up straight, but he LIKED that feeling. When he was drunk he wasn’t bothered with missing his old life or trying to fit in, he was just happy. He spent the rest of the day talking DeQwan’s ear off about his “feelings.”

Needless to say, Jeremy passed out when he got home that afternoon around 6:30 (after trying his key in the wrong apartment door and getting cussed out by an overweight ghetto bitch). When he showed up to work the next morning, he was hung-the-fuck-over. DeQwan laughed at him all day and did things like turn his music up very loud just to aggravate the boy. DeQwan suggested he try drinking another 40 and that would probably make the headache go away. He was resistant at first, but eventually cracked open his second-ever beer and started drinking it. Sure enough, it made him feel a lot better. But he drank it much slower and didn’t feel near as drunk this time. Either way, he finished every drop and smoked as much as he could before he went home.

DeQwan was happy with his employee’s progress after a few months. Jeremy had started using the vernacular freely and had gotten clothes that didn’t make him stick out like a sore thumb. He was smoking at least a pack and a half of Newports a day and started off each morning by downing a forty. After Jeremy’s resistance to alcohol had built up, DeQwan introduced Jeremy to malt liquor. He didn’t care for it much at first, but DeQwan MADE him drink during his shifts, sometimes to the point of getting drunk. Jeremy still enjoyed the feeling of letting go of his cares, and though he didn’t want to drink every day at first, he was really starting to crave it. One day while shit-faced, Jeremy finally let it slip that he had really been dying to get high. DeQwan produced a crooked smile and pulled a sandwich baggie full of green buds from his pocket.

DeQwan told Jeremy he was going to teach him everything there is to know about getting high and being high in the ghetto. He proceeded to open a grape-flavored blunt from behind the counter and cut it open with a straight razor. He emptied the guts into the trash and put the potent-smelling buds in the brown wrapper. Within moments, Jeremy was toking on his first blunt. He didn’t actually get high that night, but the next day Jeremy was made to roll his own blunt and he definitely felt the effects of that one. In combination with the buzz he got off the beer, Jeremy was feeling incredible. His head was floating and he felt like he wouldn’t have anything to worry about ever again. He asked DeQwan why he didn’t get high with him. DeQwan then told him he’d find out soon enough.

Jeremy went home that night more fucked up than he had ever been and he loved every second of it. As he laid in bed jacking off, he couldn’t help but think about DeQwan. How powerful he was, how big and strong, how he had taught him to be a new person, how he had given him more pleasure than he ever felt before in his life. DeQwan had changed his life, transformed him into a real ghetto party boy. Jeremy finally came to the thought of kissing his boss and feeling his thick pink tongue caressing his own. Jeremy never had a single gay thought before that one but he was so fucked up, he didn’t care.

The next few months passed by much the same way, smoking, drinking, and getting high. DeQwan had started to be more authoritative and commanding of Jeremy, though. He frequently belittled him and called him names like “trick,” “slut,” and “ho.” He also made the boy pay him for his cigarettes, booze, and weed—at a discounted rate, of course. Jeremy spent most of what little money he earned buying it all. And Jeremy’s tolerance was always building. He started pleading with DeQwan to help him find a new drug to make him feel the pleasure he used to feel. DeQwan knew exactly what he needed.

After the store closed that night, DeQwan dangled a very small plastic bag of off-white flecks that looked like rocks in front of Jeremy. Jeremy knew it was crack, but he was so hell-bent on immersing himself in the pleasure he got from DeQwan’s drugs, he didn’t care about what it would do to him. He grabbed the bag and looked at it close, eyes wide and mouth watering. DeQwan demanded twenty dollars for the bag and told him to go out behind the store and get fucked up, handing his boy a small glass tube to smoke out of.

He fled out back, smiling like a maniacal fiend. After fumbling for a few seconds and burning his thumb in the process, he hauled the gray smoke deep into his lungs and exhaled slowly after a few seconds. Almost instantaneously, he felt a high greater than anything else he had ever felt in his life. His eyes rolled back into his head and he sat down on the gray concrete. In that exact moment, he felt someone grab a handful of his medium-length hair and tilt his head back.

“I knew what you was da moment I saw yo bitch ass. A weak li’l cocksucka. And I knew if I could get yo frail li’l self to smoke cigarettes when you ain’t want to, I could get yo dumb white ass to smoke crack. Well guess what, ho? You mind fucked now. I got you!” and with that, DeQwan laughed and forced his 11” solid black cock down the teen’s throat. Jeremy was spinning. He knew DeQwan was right and he was happy about it. All he cared about was getting high, and now, sucking the wonderful, powerful dick that was in his mouth.

Jeremy choked a few times during this, his first cock sucking session, but he eventually got DeQwan off and swallowed his thick load. Laying there on the gum-spattered cement in the pale street light, Jeremy felt perfect, complete. He wanted to do that again: the crack and the cock sucking. If DeQwan wanted to completely fuck up his mind, Jeremy was going to let him. He lay down on the ground and lit up a Newport, passing out shortly thereafter. After the sun had risen completely, Jeremy woke up feeling oddly depressed, then stumbled on home and went to bed.

Elrod’s was closed on the weekends. After his mind-blowing experience Friday night, which he vividly remembered, Jeremy needed a day off work to recover. He woke up late Saturday night after his Dad had gotten back from work. It seemed like weeks since he had even seen his parents. They exchanged greetings and without thinking, Jeremy grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked out to the porch to smoke. His Dad, dumbfounded at first, stormed out the door after his son. They got into a heated argument during which Jeremy downed the whole beer in a matter of seconds. His Dad forbade him to drink anymore and Jeremy was so enraged, he stormed down the stairs and headed towards the store.

Jeremy found DeQwan’s cell number in his coat pocket and called his boss. He told DeQwan what had happened and DeQwan told him to wait at the store and he’d come and pick him up in about an hour. As Jeremy stood under the flickering lights in front of the store, he wished he had keys so he could run in and down a forty. Feeling antsy, Jeremy paced back and forth smoking cigarettes until DeQwan pulled up. Jeremy got in the car and DeQwan tossed him a blunt, telling him to “get some ‘dat edge off before get hash dis shit out, bruh.”

After Jeremy got high, DeQwan told him why he never smoked weed with him—he was a drug dealer. Jeremy was not really surprised. DeQwan then put his foot down about the other night, emphasizing that he was not gay but really liked getting his cock sucked. What he liked even more was control. DeQwan then asked Jeremy if he wanted to give up total control to him in exchange for a place to stay and really good prices on weed and crack. Jeremy responded with a resounding “fuck yes.” DeQwan laughed as he tossed Jeremy a free baggie of crack saying “good boy.” They pulled into a dark grocery store parking lot and Jeremy got out of the car to smoke. Immediately afterwards, he got back in the car to find his boss’ dick poking out of his boxers and sagging jeans. Jeremy took to it like an old pro. Feeling euphoric in his high, Jeremy was all too eager to say “yes” as DeQwan taunted him, asking “Are you a faggot? Are you a whore? Are you my fuckin’ crack head?”

DeQwan pushed the boy’s head down on his cock and drove out of the parking lot. About twenty minutes later, they returned to Elrod’s and Jeremy sucked his dealer off, swallowing every ounce of godly cum. Before kicking Jeremy out of the car, DeQwan tossed the white teen a key and told him it was for the outside storage unit. It had a drain, a sink, and a small space heater. It was a good enough place for a crack head to sleep, DeQwan said, and finished by saying they would discuss rent on Monday.

As DeQwan drove off, Jeremy walked to the front of the store and looked to the right. It was a big gray door with a thick doorknob. He shoved in the key and peered inside the pitch black closet. Entering completely and letting the door close hydraulically behind him, he listened to his heartbeat for a second. He felt so dirty, so cheap, and that his life was so fucked up. Jeremy reached to the cinder block laden wall and found a light switch. A solitary light bulb came to life over a mirror and very dirty sink. There was a drain on the smooth cement floor in the center of the room, a mop and bucket, a dirty looking blanket, and a small metal space heater that looked to be from the 70’s.

Approaching the mirror, Jeremy wallowed in the sorrow swirling in his mind. The only thing that made him happy was DeQwan’s drugs and DeQwan’s cock. Smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol, smoking weed, smoking crack, sucking cock—that’s all he wanted to do know, and he felt so empty not being able to at this moment. All the walls were solid cinder blocks and there was no way to get into the store to sneak some booze. He grasped his hands around the sink and looked into the mirror, which made him a bit happier. His eyes were dark and empty, but he did look like a cute white boy who had some ghetto flavor. After a few minutes, Jeremy smoked the last Newport in his pack while pissing down the drain, turned on his heater then curled up on the floor.

Jeremy spent his Sunday walking around the neighborhood, trying to find some rock. He was not successful but did manage to smoke weed with some high school kids who lived in the projects behind the store. The weed helped him deal with the sore back he got from sleeping on the concrete. He figured he’d get used to it. He also managed to panhandle a few dollars to get dinner from McDonald’s. He returned to his closet and passed out, excitedly awaiting work the next day.

Suddenly, Jeremy saw morning light pouring in through his heavy closet door and saw DeQwan towering over him, clutching his arm very tightly. Before he could focus, Jeremy felt a needle go into his arm and something cool injected into it. Almost instantaneously, Jeremy felt a new kind of euphoria, not necessarily as strong as the high he got from crack, but it was powerful and made him feel incredibly happy. Removing the needle, DeQwan grabbed Jeremy’s mouth and looked right in his eyes.

“Okay boy, you ain’t gonn’ live hea fo’ free. Er’thang I do need to bring in money. Now, I ain’t normally into pimpin’ or any otha shit like dat, but faggot, consida yo’sef a real ‘ho now. Don’t worry, I’mma keep yo’ ass high on rock an’ anythin’ else I want, but you gonn’ earn yo keep for real, homes. You real cute wit dem pouty-ass li’l lips and dat bubble butt. Some DL bruhs pay some good bills to make yo froat and ass all greasy. Heheh.”
Jeremy’s eyes were rolled into the back of his head and his cock was hard as a rock.

“Yeah, I thought so, fuckin’ cocksucka. I’mma bring you a few forties, a couple packs of Newports, and some of yo favorite crack to get you through your day, bruh.” DeQwan left, the door slamming shut behind him. He returned about ten minutes later and set everything down on the ground before a half-naked druggie. “Now all dis shit’s gonn’ run yo’ broke ass a hund’ed bucks. I ‘xpect you’ll be able to bring in at leas’ dat walkin’ da streets tonight, yo…” he turned to leave, “oh… I can’t have no fuckin’ fiend all up in my sto’ all day so consida yo’ ass fired. You still gonn’ give all yo money to me though, so not much gonn’ change Heh heh heh, fuckin’ faggoty ass.”
DeQwan left to open his store and within a few minutes, loud rap music came pouring in from the speaker on the ceiling. Jeremy went back to the mirror and gazed at his changed appearance. It felt so perfect seeing such a dumb boy staring back at him. He tried to nap a little bit in the afternoon, but couldn’t with the loud music filling his closet. As he sat and drank and smoked, he felt himself go numb, mentally and physically. His mind had become filled solely with desire to get high and service masculine ghetto black dudes. Nothing else had even crossed his mind in days, and he was happy about that.

Jeremy started working the streets every night and became a walking goldmine for his boss. A cute little white boy with beautiful blond-brown hair, big eyes and pouty lips was fresh meat for the countless hungry men that cruised the dark streets. Blowing DL brothas and out-of-place white businessmen, he was able to make enough to pay DeQwan for crack, cigs, and booze everyday and still have some money left over to buy some junk food from Elrod’s. DeQwan kept whatever was left. Eventually, Jeremy started letting his johns fuck him bareback in exchange for drugs. He would meet up with a few regulars who fed him crystal meth, acid, ecstacy, and painkillers. After being a real street whore for a couple more months, Jeremy was taking as much dick as he could get, sometimes two in his ass while deep-throating another. He was an alcoholic, pot head, crack head, meth head, heroin addict, and faggot. Life couldn’t have been better.

That was, until DeQwan dropped an atomic bomb on him. Jeremy had been his bitch for close to a year when DeQwan found out he was going to be a father. He had made thousands of dollars off Jeremy and tens of thousands off of dealing. But with such a big change coming into his life, he made the decision to go straight-edge to focus on his wife and his baby. He put Elrod’s on the market and ended up making over a hundred thousand off the sale. DeQwan got a job as a supervisor at a credit card company and never returned to that ugly, depressing side of town.

Five years after he had last seen his son, Jeremy’s Dad was sitting in his truck at a stoplight and saw a thirty-something guy panhandling. This man had on a dirty wife-beater, saggy jean shorts exposing the top half of his boxers, and busted black tennis shoes. He had a shaved head and the skin on his face was weathered. He had an eyebrow ring resting over his bloodshot eyes, which were sunk in and hollow. Jeremy’s Dad observed, as the man was talking to someone in another car, that his tongue was pierced and what teeth he had left were yellow. He was dangling a cigarette from his lips and there was a bottle wrapped in brown paper at his feet. This “bum” had track-marks all over both arms and a homemade tattoo on his arm that said DeQwan. His cliché cardboard sign read “Homeless, hungry, please give what can.” Feeling disgusted at the sight of this illiterate drain on society, Jeremy’s Dad sped off. What he didn’t know was the he had just snubbed his own twenty-three year old son.
]]> Fri, 19 Mar 2010 20:26:48 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1727 Barcelona Smokers http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1726 Hey lads. Will be in Barcelona for a few days at the start of june. Was look ing for a cig or cigar smoking older tour guide. 29 here Fri, 19 Mar 2010 17:55:38 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1726 Strong Nose Jets - The Ultimate Form Of Masculine Smoking http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1725 Real men exhale smoke through their nose- be it cigarette or cigar smoke. There is nothing like a strong nose manly unhibitited nose jets. My father used to do them all the time when I was a kid and it would surely arouse me. When I smoked with him for the first time and exhaled from my flared nostrils you could really see him watching from aside, the pride in his eyes and smirk clearly showing as he doubled inhaled then exhaled strong jets of his own. Anybody else can relate to this?? Fri, 19 Mar 2010 13:50:29 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1725 Suv Story http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1724 Thu, 18 Mar 2010 15:41:52 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1724 <![CDATA[Chicago 4/9 & 4/10]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1723 Wed, 17 Mar 2010 17:31:35 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1723 Kansas City Mo http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1721 Any dudes in the kansas city mo area or surrounding areas that would want to meet for smoke play? hit me up Mon, 15 Mar 2010 17:07:37 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1721 The First Few Smokes http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1720
After Sunday School Steven and I left the church for our walk home. Graham was waiting for us outside. He motioned for us to join him. He then discretely showed us a pack of 5 cigarettes. He opened the pack and then gave a cigarette to both Steven and myself. He told us to follow him to some nearby waste ground. After making sure we weren’t being observed Graham took out a box of matches and lit up a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and then blew smoke into the air. Steven and I were somewhat perplexed, unsure what to do next. “Want a light then?” Graham asked thrusting a lit match in front of me. I clumsily placed the cigarette in my mouth. I somehow knew I needed to suck on the cigarette as the flame approached it.

Graham laughed as I started coughing. I glared at him, and then again placed the cigarette in my mouth. Now I was less eager when sucking in the smoke. This time I did not cough, and allowed the smoke to slowly drift out of my mouth. I continued, and watched Steven doing likewise. It’s difficult to explain exactly how I felt at that time, but somehow I felt older and more confident. Graham was around 12 or 13 years old, and to me that was quite grown up. For a few minutes I felt grown up as well.

It was agreed that each Sunday Steven and I would make a financial contribution to a pack of 5 cigarettes. The anticipation of that single cigarette every Sunday somehow made life so much more exciting. There had always been something attractive and slightly naughty about cigarettes, and now I was smoking one every week.]]> Mon, 15 Mar 2010 06:49:49 -0700 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1720 East Yorks Smokers-wannabies http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1719 Anyone up for a Smoke night get together in East Yorks, leather, rubberguys, skins, squaddies, wannabie smokers, etc, see what we can arrange guys. Sat, 13 Mar 2010 12:09:23 -0800 http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1719 <![CDATA['clean' Date, Relaxed, Europe]]> http://www.smokinmen.com/index.php?showtopic=1718 Just want to take a few days off and spend them in a nice European city. It’s not that I want to have a sex date, but I wouldn’t mind spending these days (or part of them) with a nice smoking guy. Sex is not the purpose; relaxing, enjoying the city and some good food and of course smoking are.
I have wondered what it would be like if someone forbid me to smoke for two hours and I was in the same hotelroom with someone who smokes as much as he needs. If you want to witness my addiction, we could try to execute this experiment. We can also try it the other way around, if you like.
If your into damage: Let’s see what happens if we climb some church tower…
I’m a 39 year old, Dutch, bright, kind, masculine, suit wearing (jeans and a shirt, if you prefer) heavy smoker. Pictures on request after some conversation.
Cities: Any city will do, but I like Paris, Lille, Brussels, Cologne, London, Frankfurt, Munich, Luxemburg, Antwerp, Berlin.
I’m looking forward to your message!

J’aimerais d’avoir quelques jours de congé pour un séjour à n’importe quelle ville en Europe. Ce n’est pas pour baiser.. C’est juste pour rencontrer un autre fumeur sympa. Sex n’est pas mon but, mais je voudrais bien me reposer, déguster la bouffe, admirer la ville et bien sûr: fumer!
Je me suis demandé comment je me comporterai si tu me disais que je ne pouvais pas fumer pendant deux heures, pendant que tu fumes. Si tu veux être le témoin de cet experiment, je suis volontier. Si tu veux être “le victime” de cet experiment, nous pouvons arranger ca aussi bien.
Si tu aimes le dommage causé par fumer: regarde-moi pendant que nous montons une tour…
J’ai 39 ans, je suis Néerlandais, assez intelligent, gentil, masculine, amateur de cravattes (mais souvent en jeans et chemise, ce qui me plaît aussi) et je fume trop. Fotos sûr demande après un peu de conversation.
Villes: Peu importe, mais j’aime bien Paris, Lille, Bruxelles, Cologne, Londres, Franckfort, Munich, Luxembourg, Anvers, Berlin.
J’attend ton message!

Ich möchte ein Paar Tage in einem Europäischen Stadt verbringen. Ich will nicht unbedingt Sex haben, aber es ware schön ein netter Raucher begegnen zu können. Wir können uns erholen, etwas gutes essen, die Stadt anschauen und selbstverständlich: Rauchen!
Ich habe mich schon oft gefragt wie es wäre wenn ein Raucher sagt dass ich während zwei Stunden nicht rauchen darf, aber er raucht selber genau so viel wie sonnst. Kannst du dich anschauen wie süchtig ich bin… Wenn du selber so ein Opfer bringen willst: das geht natürlich auch.
Wir können auch die Treppe eines Turms hochgehen und mal sehen wie gesund rauchen ist. wink.gif
Ich bin 39 Jahre alt, Hollä