Sunday, June 30, 2013


* If you're free, rough & I have some cigar ash here at the tiki bar with your name on it.

- Be there is a quick moment.

I had no plans for my Wednesday night. Class practice with Rough had me riding a cloud of glee through dinner into my prep for the evening. Even without any plans, I showered and put on a cute outfit, just cause.

As I gathered my things to head out and find something fun to get into, I got Gray's text; perfect timing.

I grabbed my cigar play box, as well as my bottle of red wine, and headed down to the tiki bar.

When I arrived, I found Gray and Rough sitting at a table near the center of things, smoking their respective cigars. I sat my things down, draped my hoodie on the concrete, and knelt next to Gray.

"Only naked girls get ash."

As I knew he loved, I gave the men a show as I disrobed. I draped my dress on the ground as well, giving me more room to move about comfortably. I sat up on my knees and patiently waited for my treat. Gray held his cigar above my outstretched tongue, then delicately rolled his ash for me to eat. After watching it sit there for his amusement, he gave me permission to swallow.

Both Gray and Rough bemoaned an unhappy circumstance: in the short moments between Gray's message and my arrival, Rough's ash had fallen to the ground; a true sadness.

I sat down on my hoodie, Gray's hand casually brushing my shoulders as I looked over at Rough.

"I asked Gray a question and now I'll ask it to you. What is your relationship with Gray?"

"And it's not like you're being judged or anything," said the voice behind me.

I could've been nervous. Any other time I might've been nervous. But having Gray behind me, and Rough being the person asking the question, gave the moment a calming air.

"We have our title, Sempai/kohai or Teacher/student. It's sort of a friendship plus."

"Is that like friends with benefits?"

"We do fuck; we do play. But... I have friends and then I have friends I can talk to. I talk to Gray. I care for him."

"You know, some people would use another word for that."

"Yes, I love him. He knows this. I've told him this."


I reached over, sipped my wine, washing the remnants of Gray's ash down my throat. Slightly awkward moment ended.

"What are you drinking," asked Rough.

I smiled, taking the bottle up in my hands, and tilting to towards him.

"Funny you should ask. Menage-a-trois."

Rough lifted his eyebrow, possibly only half believing me. He picked up the bottle, examined the label.

"Very apropos, no?"

"Gray, she's drinking Menage-a-trois."


"She told me what wine she was drinking temptingly." For the record, my selection was a happy accident, much like the entirety of my camp.

For the next hour, Gray and Rough alternated their opportunities for my cigar service.

Once, as I sat nearer to Rough, he held his cigar to my face. Close to my eyes. I stayed still, allowed his heat to fill my face. He moved his cigar closer. Closer. Until the tip touched right in between my eyes, leaving a small fleck of ash in its wake.

Another time, Rough grabbed my hair and pulled me close into his lap. He lifted my strands and blew smoke once, twice, thrice into my hair. Gray followed Rough in turned, bringing his lips to my head and blowing his smoke into my hair. Unlike Rough, Gray patted my hair, pushing small puffs out. He liked that trick especially.

Gray used several different ways to puts his ash on my body. One instance he had me lean into his lap. He dabbed his cigar along my back, five strikes on each of my shoulders. I jumped at each touch. After each set of five, he wiped the ash along my back, then scratched my flesh. Another time, Gray had me stand in front of him. Ash in his hand, he slapped my breasts hard, rubbing the flecks onto my flesh. Another instance, Gray rolled his ash into my hand. He then instructed me to rub the flecks all over my breasts while looking up at him as I did so.

During our evening, an individual sat next to Gray and struck up a conversation. While the two of them spoke, the newcomer also smoked a small cigar. They were interested in learning about cigar service, so I agreed to eat ash out of their hands, first the right and then the left. When I finished my service, they remarked, "I think my clit has migrated to my hand."

When Rough's ash grew long enough for a treat, I swiveled back towards him. But, in the split second before he was to lean over to deposit the ash on my tongue, again the head dropped, half on the ground and half on my jacket.

"Lick it up," said Rough.

Without thinking, I got on my hands and knees and licked up his ash. Licked at my hoodie. Licked at the concrete ground. Darted my tongue, strategically picking up as much as I could in the most efficient way possible.

I felt Gray's fingers against my pussy lips as I worked. Felt him massage my outer folds before inserting a finger inside me. And then another. And another. I moaned as I worked. Delighted in the moment.

When I finished licked up the ash, I turned to Gray, who stuck each of his fingers into my mouth. I lapped up my juices before he smeared the remnants on my face and in my hair.

With yet another head of ash for Gray to give me, I stuck out my waiting tongue. He rolled the ash; I held it. Gray then licked around my mouth, tickling my lips. Then I was allowed to swallow.

"Do you have anything planned tonight," asked Gray. I shook my head no. "Good, cause I want to beat on you. This week, I'm going to work on marking you."

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