Blonde Girl

 

Anette

 I first met Anette two years ago. I was 19 and, aside from the odd fling at

school, had never seriously dated a girl for more than a few weeks. Everyone
has primeval drives, and I'd never been ashamed to admit that smoking was,
for me, a great turn on. However it wasn't until I met Anette that I
realised just how erotic and sensual and sexual a lady smoking could be.

I was at a private party organised by my university, and hanging out with a
couple of my male friends by virtue of the fact that we were all single.
We'd each downed several beers, and both my friends had already hit on girls
that evening, and their advances rejected. Naturally, they were now egging
me on to have a go. Being the eldest, I was not going to be forced into
anything, and I'd told them several times to get lost. It was then that I
saw her. Reaching for a cigarette from her Marlboro Reds pack, she caught my
eye. With her straight blond hair cascading around her tanned small
shoulders, she looked as alluring as the night. She wore a tight black dress
which enhanced her perfect clevage and black strapped high heels which
complimented her slender bronzed legs. The way she unashamedly dangled her
unlit cigarette between her lips aroused me beyond reason. I gazed as she
smiled and chatted to her friends, both male and female, as she searched for
her lighter. With perfect elegance, using an expensive engraved gold
lighter, she lit the cigarette, glanced away from the group, sucked and
inhaled deeply with the cigarette still between her lips, and then removed
it, before exhaling fine smoke from her mouth and nostrils. Astonishingly,
although all her friends seemed to be in pairs, she had no partner.
   The room was gradually filling up, the light dimming and the air getting
hotter. Five minutes after I first noticed her, the girl was onto her next
cigarette. My friends were still talking, but I wasn't listening. The girl
was still chatting to her group of friends, but no partner had returned. I
handed my beer to my bemused friend Rick, and walked away whilst he was
still in mid sentence. Subconsciously I recollect him joking "You've no
chance, no chance with her", but my mind was elsewhere. Though for my age I
guess I was reasonably inexperienced in chatting up girls, I was totally
confident, as if I already knew that there would be mutual attraction
between us.
As I approached this beautiful girl, all her friends seemed just to
disappear
   "Would you like to dance?" I asked, oblivious to the fact that there was,
as yet, no music. Miraculously, someone switched the PA on and the room was
filled with the opening bars of Etta James' "I'd rather go blind".
The beautiful girl looked up at me and smiled a lovely smile.
   "Sure I'd like to", she said softly, taking a deep drag and throwing her
cigarette on the ashtray. We linked hands as she exhaled from her lips, and
walked over to the small crowded dance floor. She danced close and
sensuously, she was the perfect partner. I put my arm round her slight
frame, and she put her head against my chest. Her breasts were so close to
me and I could feel her heart beating as we swayed together. Although I was
well aware that I was far from the best looking guy there, strangely I did
not think it odd that I was dancing with the most beautiful lady at the
party.
   All too quickly the song was over, and since I had no intention of us
leaping around to the fast disco track that was played next, I offered to
buy her a drink.
   "If you promise to have another dance with me, I'll let you by me a
vodka", she teased. I smiled at her, she accompanied me to the bar and then
we sat in the corner of a booth.
   "Cigarette, cigarette, I'm gasping," she said to herself as she pulled
out another Marlboro. Quickly I picked up the heavy gold lighter that was in
the top of her small bag, flipped the top and lit her up.
   "What does the AC stand for?" I enquired regarding the engraving on her
lighter. Her cheeks hollowed as she drew deeply from the cigarette.
   "Anette," she laughed, "Anette Cawood". Wisps of smoke escaped from her
mouth and nose.
   "I'm Kieran" I replied. We talked about how we'd got invited to the
party, and joked that we'd both been to better ones. Anette told me that she
lived 200 miles away at her father's family estate, but that she was staying
with her sister who owned a flat in the city. I found it hard to believe
that she was just 18, she seemed to exude confidence and whilst she didn't
dominate me in any way, she was not over cautious in the way that some girls
are with guys they've just met. Anette chain smoked six cigarettes as we
talked; gradually we moved closer and somehow, as I became more aroused, I
knew that she was equally interested. We seemed to complement each other
perfectly. It emerged that our musical tastes were remarkably similar, I'd
never met anyone, let alone a girl, who shared my obscure interests, and
after another close dance I felt that I was virtually exploding inside for
Anette.
   Luckily I have great stamina, because my place was a twenty minute walk
from the party. And we hadn't even left yet.
   "Lets go outside for some air", Anette enthused. I thought this mildly
ironic, considering the cigarette permanently clamped between her lips, but
of course I agreed it was an excellent idea. We sat on a wooden bench table
side by side. Anette shivered in the cold October air and I could see goose
bumps on her beautiful thin arms. I wrapped my jacket round her and lit her
dangling cigarette. She drew deeply and gave me a smoky kiss, a new
experience for me but one which I took in my stride. Anette giggled, mildly
drunk from the vodka, and moved to sit on my knee, straddling my rock hard
crotch. We kissed and cuddled for a few minutes more, I put my hand on her
chest and felt her ribcage expand and her breasts rise every time she
inhaled deeply into her lungs from one after another Marlboro.
   Finally we left, and we walked with my arm round Anette's slim waist,
back to my college flat. The walk seemed remarkably short and a lot less
boring than usual. I guessed it was the company. Although the rules on
guests in college rooms are quite severe, I was not questioned as to why
Anette was with me, and by the time we reached the flat my pulse was racing.
Once inside, Anette dimmed the lights and kicked off her shoes. Her toenails
were painted perfectly in black.
   "Now I can thank you for tonight", she grinned, removing first my Levi's,
then her dress. Desperate to come, I somehow managed to hold back until I
was fully inside her moist warmth. Our bodies ground and shuddered in
unison, each of us climaxing within milliseconds of each other. We breathed
heavily, Anette's smoked out lungs taking longer to recover than my own. I
kissed her all over, and she did me. We then sat up her on my knee, both
facing forward, so we could feel each others breathing. I put a cigarette to
her lips, and lit it. For a few seconds Anette closed her eyes, breathing in
directly from the cigarette, desperately replacing all the nicotine her body
craved. Then she must have sensed that I was about to speak.
   "Ssh!" she said, smiling, putting her finger to my lips. I could smell
the wonderful aroma of tobacco on her fingers. I complied, allowed her to
smoke another couple of cigarettes, and then let her fall asleep in my arms.
After 19 years of being, as I saw it, completely alone, all my dreams had
now come true.

I awoke with Anette still asleep in my arms, her head resting against my
chest. I was, at first, surprised that the previous night wasn't a dream. I
reached over for the pack of Marlboros, and Anette stirred. Her naked body
shuddered slightly, and after a hacking cough to clear her tarred-up throat,
she looked up and smiled at me.
   "Morning," she whispered, her voice a silky smooth soft rasp. I kissed
her on the lips, offered her a cigarette which she gratefully accepted, and
lit her up. Anette took her first drag of the day, sucking three times
before inhaling more deeply than usual, and then sighing with relief as she
exhaled from her lips and nose. We each slipped into one of my gowns, and
sat close together on my small couch. Anette chain smoked as we talked.
   "How long are you staying in the city?" I asked. Anette drew heavily on
her Marlboro.
   "In a week I'm going home to Cedarwood." Cedarwood was her family's
country estate. It emerged that she had become bored living there, and
intent on changing the subject, slipped off the white gown I'd given her, to
reveal her bronzed and toned naked body, and moved on to my crotch. I got
the sense that Anette became aroused due to our conversation as well as our
physical contact.
   "I don't want to talk about me, tell me about you," she mock-pleaded. My
story, which I'd always thought was interesting, sounded to me as boring as
anything as I watched the beautiful Anette puff on her Marlboro, sitting in
my lap. I told her that my father, who I had never known, had been jailed
when I was two, and that I had rarely attended school, brought myself up and
taught myself, eventually aspiring to the most prestigious college in the
country. Anette nodded, smiled, smoked. I felt that she somehow already knew
all of what I was telling her. When I was done, Anette threw her cigarette
aside and, sensing that I was now rock hard, began to remove my gown. We
kissed furiously, I kissed her from her gorgeous lips, to her perfect
breasts, all the way down to her toes. Anette lit another Marlboro, leaving
it dangling from her lips as I entered her. We broke into an explosive
rhythm, I ground myself into Anette and she began gasping for breath,
cigarette still between her lips, the hot ash burning both our bodies as we
had frenzied sex.

   We spent nearly all the following week together. I hardly attended one
lecture, but I wasn't concerned. We talked about our lives, our hopes for
the future. We walked about town together, I took her for a drive in the
country.
Anette smoked throughout. She told me she needed three packs a day, but that
she'd smoked five packs in a day before. I challenged her to show me, and
she did, allowing me to light one cigarette after another for her.
   On our final day together, we spent twenty hours in bed. We made love,
drank vodka straight from the bottle, and as Anette smoked one pack of
Marlboros after another, I lay there caressing her perfect body. Anette
joked that smoking herself to death did wonders for her figure, and was much
more enjoyable than the jogging ten miles, as I did twice a week. I had to
agree. All good things must come to an end though, and this was no
exception. Sort of.

Anette returned to Cedarwood at the end of the week, but we kept in touch.
In our letters we each expressed our longing to be together, and the sound
of Anette's soothing smoke-cured voice over the telephone regularly left me
in a state that only an ice cold shower could remedy. As many times as my
schedule would allow, we would meet up. I would borrow a car and drive down
to the village next to Cedarwood, where Anette would be waiting. She always
looked stunning - I was never disappointed. I would bring her gifts of
Marlboro packs and she would smoke the entire pack just to say thankyou. We
would walk hand in hand through the picturesque village, in the summer
Anette would be barefoot, totally uninhibited, with a cigarette dangling
from her lips, only so be removed when she softly spoke.
   I was even able to meet Anette's parents. Though I had never experienced
the wealth and luxury that the Cawoods lived in, Anette had told me that I
would not be nervous, that I would walk into Cedarwood House as if I owned
it, and sure enough I did. Whilst I had never been a fan of the bourgeoisie,
even I could not deny that Anette was at her most elegant in the luxurious
setting of Cedarwood House. The way she lit her cigarettes, with a glass in
one hand, against the backdrop of the oak panelled room, convinced me that
she was the most stunning, beautiful and intelligent lady I'd ever met. Her
liberal and carefree personality, when it came to smoking, sex and anything
else, was the perfect antidote to the otherwise stuffy world in which she
had grown up.


   Earlier this year I started my final year at college. I'd worked every
hour available and applied for every loan from the bank just so that I could
pay for a place of my own, and Anette could move in. And it has been worth
it. To spend a day with this beautiful lady, as she smokes her way through
three packs of Marlboros a day, is beyond my wildest dreams. That Anette
feels the same way about me is unreal. She has a natural beauty which allows
her to wear the simplest clothes - a plain white shirt, sometimes tied up
exposing her slender midriff, a pair of old Levis and bare feet - and still
look stunning. She smokes naturally and effortlessly, allowing her cigarette
to dangle from her fresh young lips for minutes on end, as if it were part
of her smooth, sensuous body. Unafraid of the health risks, she flaunts her
smoking, but in a beautifully understated way. Annette feels that no-one can
stop her enjoying her life, living for the moment. She never excercises, yet
her body is toned and youthful. During the summer, Anette is quite
uninhibited, wearing clothes that expose as much of her beautiful skin as is
possible, yet always appearing naturally elegant. Her lit cigarette is ever
present, either between her perfect fingers or clamped in her sensuous lips.
When her naked body is next to mine, I can hear and feel her smokers chest
heavily drawing in air. Her early morning cough sounds so deep and warm it
breaks my heart. Her silky rasping voice caresses my mind just as the
cigarette smoke caresses Anette's lungs. She is a beautifully lawless lover.