* 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."
"Okay."
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."
"Really?"
"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."
The 1st
"Poetic, would you like some ash?"
She looked over at me, huge smile on her face, a two inch head standing vertical on her cigar.
"Oh God, yes," I said, my submissive voice squeaking out. "I've cried each time ash was flicked into the tray."
On my hands and knees, I crawled towards her. Stopped. Sat on my feet. Opened my mouth wide and put out my tongue.
She rolled the ash into my mouth. I held the lump for her and the rest near her to see. I looked at her. I smiled with my eyes. Made a small connection.
"Thank you," she said. "You can swallow."
I closed my mouth and grinned. Then crawled away, happy.
The 2nd
"Poetic?"
He had a pretty head of ash ready for my mouth. I extracted myself from my corner. Bodies squeezed together to fight off the chill in the air and the wind that assaulted us on the balcony.
I crawled towards him, head bent. Rested my hands on his knees to keep balance. As I was about to sit on my feet, his hand found the back of my head. Gently petted my hair. I stayed as I was. Head bent. Forehead near his crotch. A feeling of connection being built. I nuzzled a little. Purred a bit. Felt warmth even though it was so cold.
A small touch on my chin signaled for my head to rise. I looked into his dark eyes. Saw him, and his ash.
"Open your mouth. Wider."
I did as he told. Tilted my head back. He rolled his ash into my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened again. Looked into his eyes once more. Our gaze locked. I felt transfixed.
He brought his cigar to the side of my face. I felt the heat near my skin. Heard the burning of my hair. Didn't move because he didn't want me to.
A caress of my chin closed my mouth. His fingers traced across my cheek and back down. I closed my eyes. Leaned my head into his touch. Let myself get lost in our shared moment.
His hand stilled. I opened my eyes again.
He thanked me. I thanked him. And then crawled back to my spot.
The 3rd
He looked over at me, a knowing grin on his face.
"Poetic?"
He was only two seats away, yet he was the hardest to get to. We'd all huddled in close, trying desperately to fight nature. I backed out, swiveled around, and meeped as I sat in place in front of him.
His eyes were intense. His small smile almost mischievous. His hand reached behind me. Grabbed my hair. Controlled my head. Brought it forward.
I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. He rolled his ash. I felt the heat of the cherry near me. He kept his eyes on mine. Saw his control over me. My submission to him. Had me close my mouth. Thanked me in his quiet yet strong voice.
I smiled and thanked him as well.
Crawled away. Found my spot. Snuggled up to those beside me. Happy to be around people I don't see nearly enough.
~ a story ~
It was a simple request.
I was known for my cigar service, my love and care in the role. The time I'd taken to learn about the act, as well as multiple types of cigars and the accoutrement surrounding the ritual.
The Top was respected in our community, though I had little time interacting with him. He was quiet, reserved without being introverted. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did utter words they were always worth hearing.
I found him alluring, enticed by his mystery and beauty. He was handsome. A shock of gray down one side of his hair. Fit firm frame. Always wearing leather boots. Ever meticulous in his appearance. Whenever possible, a cigar in his hand.
So when he approached me at the end of a party, with few else still around, and long past his normal departure time, I stood up straight. I held my hands behind my back. I gave him due deference to his station in our community.
"Kat, nice to see you this evening."
"You as well. I trust you enjoyed your time tonight."
"Immensely. Thank you for your attendance during the smoker."
"It was my pleasure."
"I could see that. You take great pleasure in cigar service."
"Yes, I do."
"Do you teach?"
"On occasion, if the opportunity presents itself."
"I'm sure you excel at teaching as I've seen you excel at most everything."
"Thank you. Your appreciation of my efforts is quite humbling."
"I have a girl. She's pretty, but shy. Would you meet her?"
"Yes, of course. When?"
"Tomorrow?"
"I am off tomorrow. Your address?"
"I will text you."
"Supplies?"
"I have my own already."
"What time?"
"7:30pm. Just before sunset."
"Very well. Last, what honorific would you like?"
"She calls me Daddy. You, Kat, may call me Sir."
"Thank you, Sir, for your invitation and confidence in my abilities."
His home was brick, large, in a quiet part of the city with trees lining the lane and no homes less than one hundred feet apart. I parked in his driveway, pulled out my messenger bag, and walked up to his door. Checking my phone, it was 7:15pm.
As soon as I knocked, I heard scurrying footsteps approach the door. As the door opened, I glimpsed a petite woman with short brown hair wearing a pink sundress, glasses, and sandals. She smiled at me for only a moment before darting her eyes to the ground.
"You must Kat. Hi."
Her words were quick, darting almost as fast as her eyes had.
"Hello. Excuse my early arrival."
"May I take your bag for you?"
"Of course."
I handed her my messenger bag. She gestured for me to enter, then closed the door behind me.
His home held an air of sophistication without the pomp and circumstance. Shelves housed what seemed like years of knick-knacks from a life well lived. The furniture was a mixed of deep browns and black, all leather. A fireplace to my right as I entered with pictures on the mantel. A tall wide wooden staircase to my left. On the far right, black marble on the kitchen floors and blood red marble for the counter tops. A heavy wooden dining table to my far left.
She led me to the back patio, viewable through the open air arrangement of the home. He sat beneath an awning, donned in full leathers, staring out into the backyard garden and the trees behind his home. The plume from his already half smoked cigar danced up in a curvy line.
She slid the glass door open, waited for me to exit, and then closed the door behind me.
"I expected you'd be early."
"Pardon my..."
"No pardon necessary. I appreciate your punctuality."
He waved me over to a chair near his with his cigar hand, drawing a smokey form in the air; I sat.
"Would you like something to drink or eat?"
On the small table was a host of cold finger foods: fresh fruit, raw vegetables, and small slices of cheese. A pitcher of lemonade perspired, a few drops of water kissing the metal table. His girl sat down my bag beside me, picked up a glass, and poured me a drink before my answer. She then sat on a pillow at the foot of her Daddy.
"Thank you for your hospitality."
"Thank you for your time."
I sipped the cold beverage and tried to relax in the warm Spring air.
Looking over, I saw how he lazily stroked his girl's hair. She nuzzled his hand and softly cooed. For a moment, I felt a twinge of envy. She looked so happy, so peaceful, so pleased there at his knee. Their manner was matter-of-fact. This was their life. They fit together so well.
He tapped her on the shoulder. She cupped her hands, one over the other, and held them up as if in supplication. He rolled his ash into her hands. She continued to hold her hands up until he tapped her on the shoulder again. She then licked up the ash from her palm.
My emotions turned from envy to confusion.
"Sir, why am I here?"
"You know cigar service, and this is my Sunday afternoon cigar time."
"Yes, but she knows cigar service."
"Yes."
"Why am I here to teach her if she needs no instruction?"
"Teach her?"
Confusion came into his eyes. And then a moment of understanding.
"No. I should have been more clear. I wanted you here to be next to her, to play with us. Tonight is, for lack of a better word, a date."
At once my heart jumped into my throat. I felt horrible at my previous moment of envy, yet also joyous at the idea of what the next moment could bring, if I were brave enough to ask the question straining from my lips.
"Sir, might I request a small gesture?"
"Of course. You are our guest. Ask anything."
"Might I sit at your other knee?"
For the first that evening, and my first time witnessing it, a wide grin burst across his face. His girl peeked up at me, a flash of glee in her eyes. Before he uttered a word, she scurried off and brought back a matching pillow, sitting it on the other side of her Daddy before returning to her spot.
"Well, you have my girl's answer. Mine is the same."
I sunk down from my chair, crawled the minuscule distance over, and nestled myself on the pillow. Leaning my head against his knee, he caressed my cheek with his right hand, his cigar hand, as smoke danced around my face.
I could hear her cooing, and his breathing, as I closed my eyes and actually, truly, relaxed.
~ erotica ~
He dragged her behind him, her wrists bound, his sweaty bandanna covering her eyes. She stumbled over the uneven ground but always kept herself upright as he hurriedly led her to his favorite spot.
Stopping, he shoved her down to the ground, her knees landing on the wet earth, straw and mud now caking her shines. She heard him sit on something, not sure what, and felt as he tied her wrist rope to something as well.
He pulled the bandanna off her head, errant strands of hair now flying this way and that, no care in that he took a lock or two with his rag.
The Sun was setting in the background. The amber light gave a glow to his face, to the menacing, calculating smile that was plastered across it.
"Hello," he said before slapping her hard.
Gripping the collar of her tight shirt, he riped it open down the front. Taking out his knife, he riped down the back as well, exposing yet more skin. A few good tugs freed her bra to fall to the ground. Reaching down, he created a small slit in her also tight skirt. With a few good tugs, he sheered this fabric off her as well. Two more tugs with his blade and he pulled her thong off too.
She was naked, the pieces of her shirt hanging from the rope around her wrists looking almost comical in their exaggeration of her binding.
He put away his knife, folding it up and slipping it into his boot. He took off his hat and sat it next to him on the large rotting log. The width of the wood was easily four feet. The cowboy had found a natural notch in the tree, a perfect spot for him to laze against as he gazed on his prey.
Looking about, she saw where her wrist rope was secured, looped around multiple branches on the side of the log, branches that had once been roots snaked deep through the earth.
Pulling a tube from his other boot, the cowboy slipped a cigar into his hand.
"Do you smoke," he asked.
She didn't want to answer; she wanted to exude some semblance of control, of still having some power in this situation. He slapped her again.
"Do you smoke?" She remained quiet.
Quick as lightning, his blade was out and by her neck.
"You're pretty, which is why I picked you, but this is no fun when you're all quiet like. Now I can make you make noises in many different ways, many of which I'm sure you won't like, but if you keep me happy you may just enjoy your time with me."
He lifted his knife, pressing into her neck. She felt the scratch and gave a whimper as the tiny trickle of a few drops of blood kissed her skin.
"Now, do you smoke?"
"No," she said, quiet as a church mouse, eyes closed, stern resignation on her face.
"See, was that so bad?"
The cowboy brought the blade to his tongue, licking the small streak of red that had formed, before putting the knife away again.
"Me, I love a good cigar. Love the smell. The taste. And all the fun things I can do with it."
He gripped her hair and pulled her to standing.
"There are so many things I can do with a cigar." He brought her head close to his, then traced her lips with the tobacco.
"Open up." She parted her lips, her eyes locked on his.
"Close." She shut her mouth around the cigar.
"Now, can you think of something that looks a lot like a cigar? And can you image how it would like to be sucked? Would you be so kind as to suck on my cigar like that?"
She closed her eyes, then rolled her tongue around the end of the cigar. She used her lips, caressing the end. For a moment, she tried to forget where she was, who held her here, and the fate she knew soon awaited her.
"Yes, I like that." He pulled the cigar out of her mouth slowly, tapping her lips when it was finally free of their touch.
"But, actually, I prefer my cigars to be flavored."
Guiding her by her hair, he pushed her onto the log, her skin abraded over the rough wood. Pulling her legs apart, he brushed the tip of the cigar against her pussy lips, up to her clit and around and around the nub. Despite herself, she moaned at the touch.
"Hmm, you like that. Do you like that?" He pulled her head back, his gaze locked on her eyes.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes. Yes, I like it."
"Good."
He pushed her head back down and returned his cigar to her pussy. This time, instead of teasing, he used the cigar to enter her, pushing the tobacco up into her body so that it almost disappeared. She gasped, a moan she wished she could've held back.
"I also like my tobacco warmed before I smoke it."
~ erotica ~
The cowboy ran the cigar in and out of her pussy, fucking her with his tobacco.
Even with the scratches from the wood. Even with the fear of the moment. Still, she could not help but notice the feel of the tickle of her nipples with his gyrations. She could not help the growing wetness he no doubt felt. And she could not help the warmth building inside her as the cowboy kept entering her again and again with his cigar.
"You like that."
He laid his body against hers, never stopping the movement of his tobacco.
"I can hear it in your breathing. I can feel it in your pussy."
She bit her lip and turned her head away from him, but he grabbed her chin and pulled her eyes back to his.
"No, you will look at me, and you will know who is making you feel this way."
She closed her eyes, her orgasm so close to breaking throughout her body, so close to its more than welcome release.
"No."
Her eyes burst open.
"No."
It was enough. Though she could not admit it even to herself, she needed his permission, needed his approval, and he was obviously not giving it. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes.
The cowboy pulled the cigar from her pussy in one last long movement.
"Nice and warm, just how I like it."
He brought the tobacco to his lips.
"Mmm, flavored quite nicely."
He released his grip on her chin, pulled his lighter from his pocket, and lit his tobacco. After some puffs, the end glowed red. He held the smoke in his mouth before exhaling across her back. She felt the heat slowly trail down her skin. She shivered at the subtle touch.
Her body hurt from her desire, ached at her wanting. She wanted, needed to cum, but how would she ever get permission? How would she ever find a way to fulfill her body's yearning? And why was this, and no other thought, the most important to her at this moment?
The cowboy grabbed her by her hair again, pulling her off the log and back to her knees in the mud. Her face was at his crotch level. Instinctively she looked towards the bulge in his pants.
"Don't worry, I won't make you suck my cock. I'll wait til you beg me to suck my cock.
"I see the look in your eyes, still obstinate, still believing you have any power. You don't, but go on believing what you will.
"By the end of our encounter, you will beg me to let you suck my cock, beg me to let you cum, and beg me to never let you go."
~ erotica ~
The cowboy puffed on his cigar, then brought his mouth to her lips. He kissed her softly, gently. The smoke entered her mouth, slipped from both their lips, and surround their faces in a haze. She was shocked by his gentleness, shocked that such care could come from this seemingly cruel man.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar again, brought his lips to her neck, and released his smoke under her chin. The heat rose up, kissing her skin, swimming up her face. To her surprise, the act felt calming, almost cleansing, as if his smoke washed over more than just her skin.
Another draw from his cigar, and this time his face settle into her now wild hair. His smoke filled her strands, the heat from his breath and his spent tobacco encircling her face. Now she felt another surprising emotion: intimacy. With this man who'd taken her. With this man who abused her. With this man she now felt herself drawn towards, wanting, needing.
And with that thought, she drew back. But he would not let her go far. His hand on her shoulder pulled her forward, pulled her face to his again, to his lips and to his kiss again with the haze of the smoke between them.
Despite her brain telling her to run away, to pull back, to fight, something in her melted. Something in her let it happen, let her want for this man take hold. Something in her relented, and though she could not utter the words, she knew now that she was his.
Leaning back, he looked into her eyes. And, somehow, she knew that he knew too.
His cigar now had a sizable head of ash. The cowboy rolled the chunk into his hand, preserving the cherry, and crushed the nugget into many small flakes. The cowboy took his ash filled hand and smoothed it over her chest, over her breasts, and up her neck. He grazed her cheek, traced the line of her chin, and then slapped her. This time, instead of seeing it as a punishment, she felt his hit as a caress.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar and blew his smoke over her skin. Up her arms. Puff. Across her chest. Puff. Over her shoulder, down her back. Puff. Into her hair. Puff.
And then he kissed her again.
With another head of ash ready for him, the cowboy again rolled it into his hand and broke up the ball into a multitude of flakes. This time he smoothed the ash over her back. As a line tumbled down, falling in between the crack of her ass, she somehow found herself smiling and giggling.
The cowboy picked up her chin and steered her eyes towards his. His face was stern, but then somehow he cracked a smile and lightly kissed her.
Laying his arm across her back, he pulled her body into his lap. Holding his cigar, he puffed, blew his smoke onto her skin, then trailed his cherry along her flesh, just barely not touching her. She could feel the heat as it loomed oh so close to her body.
And then the cowboy lightly tapped her skin. She yelped at each touch, the heat of the cigar like miniature burns to her flesh. After each of his touches, he wiped his hand over her skin as if rubbing the hurt away. He puffed, blew smoke over her back again, and then kissed her shoulder.
Releasing her body from his lap, she looked up and saw most of his cigar was gone. She could not help but feel sad, knowing this moment she spent with him would soon end.
As if sensing her thoughts, the cowboy brushed his hand against her cheek and cooed, "I know, but no moment lasts forever."
~ erotica ~
Her bound hands, which still rested in his lap, errantly brushed his crotch. She could easily feel his quite hard cock. She looked down at her hands, then up in his eyes. And without her even realizing it, the small quiet word spilled from her lips.
"Please."
Quick as a cat, he gripped her hair and tilted her head back.
"Say it again." This time the word was not a surprise to either of them.
"Please."
There was a desperation in her voice, a tone he more than enjoyed, the tone he had been waiting to hear.
With his cigar hand, his eyes never breaking from hers, the cowboy unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. She felt it in her hands and instantly began stroking the shaft. Only the slightest of facial twitches betrayed the cowboy's pleasure at her touch, but it was enough for her desire to recharge anew.
She gripped harder and increased her speed. Up and down, up and down she ran her hands over him. But, all the while, his eyes still locked on her, there was one thing she wanted more than any other. And again, without her realizing it, the small quiet word slipped and fell once more from her lips.
"Please."
"Say it again." She knew her intention, knew her desire, knew what her body yearned for more than anything.
"Please."
He slammed her mouth onto his cock. She gagged as all of him entered her. Fumbling, her hands found his balls as he fucked her face relentlessly. His grip firm on her hair moved her head back and forth.
Though she couldn't see it, as he enjoyed her lips on his cock, his own lips wrapped around his cigar, enjoying his tobacco still. Even as she gagged and tears formed in her eyes, she enjoyed the feel of all of him in her.
He pulled her head back, all the way off his cock, and his lips found hers again, smoke bursting into her mouth. She held back her cough as he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.
Just as quickly his cock was again in her mouth. Her tongue danced around his shaft, trying to keep up with his furious pace. The heat in her body grew. She wanted, needed to cum. She would beg him, plead him for it, if only she could speak.
He stopped his thrusts, holding his cock in the back of her mouth, before slowly pulling her head off of his shaft, quarter in by quarter inch, her lips gliding down his cock. He then held her eyes towards his.
"Open your mouth." She needed only to still her breathing, her heaving breaths having kept her lips parted.
"Stick out your tongue." She obeyed, not understanding what was going on or what was to come next.
He held his cigar just above her, the flamed end so close to her face. He rolled his ash onto her tongue. She kept still, not wanting to break the ash, not wanting to ruin the moment, not wanting to disappoint him. The ash broke off in a nugget.
"Hold it there." She obeyed, doing so because she wanted to, because she wanted to please him, wanted to see the look in his eyes he held now at this moment for as long as he'd let her.
With his cigar hand, he brought his cock head to her mouth and without a word came, spewing over the ash she'd held there for him. He released her hair and pet the side of her head.
"Close your mouth." She did, the salty tastes intermingling. Her loins burned for this man, for this moment. She wanted to be no where else but here.
The cowboy leaned down, and whispered into her ear. "Swallow."
She did, the ash and cum gliding down her throat.
His cigar hand gripped her left breast. The fingertips of his right hand tickled down her stomach, past her abdomen, and lightly caressed her clit, the most delicate of touches.
"Please," she gasped.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"Please."
"Cum."
Her body trembled. Sweet warmth burst from her abdomen and shot throughout her frame. He squeezed her breast hard and played with her clit mercilessly.
"Don't stop," he whispered. Her face lay cradled in the crook of his neck. She yelped and moaned, her body gyrating from the dilation of her inner walls. She'd never felt this, had never been so lost in a person, in a feeling, in a moment, in a cum.
"Thank you," she heard herself whisper before somehow she passed out.
When she woke up she was in her bed. She heard no sound other than her breathing. Sun streaming in through her windows. She felt warm, naked. For a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream.
And then she felt grittiness in her bed. And couldn't remember where she'd put her clothes. And she felt, for the briefest of seconds, a deep burning desire for a man she'd never know.
~ erotica ~
A beautiful woman and a handsome man, both dressed to the nines, entered the bar.
The air was smokey, filled with the hew of cigars and the ting of a few naysayers who still insisted on their cigarettes.
The couple found a table, their table, in a corner in the back, just to the left of the smoking circle, a ring of tall chairs often occupied by various groups of work colleagues.
The couple had been coming to The Smoking Lounge every Thursday since I'd started working there. I knew what he liked (Scotch neat) and what she liked (champagne, the most expensive we had). And I also knew he liked it when she got up and walked to the bar to pickup their drinks.
As per always, I approached their table, greeted them warmly, asked, "The usual?" He reply, "Of course," with a little head nod and the slightest of smiles.
I'd slink away, wondering if either or both noticed the extra bit of sway in my hips or enjoyed the clack of my heels as I walked. I wore my tightest black skirt on Thursdays, my stocking seams straight a ruler, guiding the eye all the way up.
I loved serving them, loved watching them. I often wondered if they noticed me watching.
The Smoking Lounge attracted a certain clientele. Coats were made of finer fabrics. Skirts were short, but never completely revealing. Men wore suits. Only certain women wore pants. No cigar we sold was cheap. The ones they brought for themselves always cost more. The women who walked through our doors generally fell into two types: the partner or the player. The men: old or older.
But these two, these two were different. The woman, though obviously in some soft of relationship with the man, had a stare that bore through me when our eyes met. And the man, I couldn't peg his age. He couldn't have been past forty-five, yet there was something about him that looked wise, knowing, as if he had a secret he wasn't telling.
Every night, after they left, I went home and thought of the two of them as I writhed on my bed exploring my body. Thought of their hands on me, thought of their bodies, their lips.
In their corner, when no one else watched, I saw them. I saw the pinch on the back of her neck. The grab of her hip. The hand that at first massaged her scalp before lightly tugging on her hair. And the ash which he put in his palm before his finger explored her strands.
I saw how he'd ask her for something, something he haphazardly dropped on the floor just to the left of her. And she'd stand, and bend over, trying to find it, her ass always towards him and away from any other gaze. I never, ever, saw a pantie line under her skirt.
Him throwing his arm over her shoulder. Her leaning into his chest, licking his hand, the same hand that had had his ash. Her picking up a menu, though they never ordered any food, shielding their bodies, her face, as magically the head of ash on his cigar would disappear before she'd put the menu down.
Whispering into her ear, and then the slightest of jumps from her body. Her right arm which always disappeared under the table.
Every Thursday night, without fail, they came, bringing an air of lust as intoxicating to me as any of our brews.
Every Thursday night they ordered Scotch neat and champagne and nothing else, sitting in their corner for an hour, disappearing into the anonymity of the smokey room.
And every Thursday night I went home, thinking about them, fantasizing about them, counting down the hours til next week.
I was exhausted.
My flight from DC to London had left at 10pm DC time, and arrived at 10am London time. Because of turbulence, I'd only slept for about three hours while on the plane.
But I was in England. And CherryBondage was there waiting for me. We hugged for so long. It felt amazing to be near her again, to have her arms around me.
As we made our way towards the Underground, she gave me great news. Gray had landed about half an hour before me and we were all going to have lunch together. Already my London trip was starting wonderfully.
As CherryBondage and I headed down into the Underground, I realized our excursion, though fun, would not be easy. I lifted my checked back, packed to the gills with my bootblack kit, some rope, and other various items, and carried it down the stairs. And then up some stairs. And then down more stairs.
CherryBondage and I met Gray and two of our friends at the Waterloo station. With recommendations from both Gray and CherryBondage, we decided to head to The Breakfast Club for lunch. Afterwards we stopped by Sh!, a adult store catered towards women, and then swung by another sex shop, though this one catered to gay men.
Settling down, we encamped in a nearby Pret A Manger, seven hours after my arrival.
As I said, I was exhausted, had clearly over packed, and saw no way to relieve myself of my mistake any time soon.
In the moment, while sitting in the casual dining restaurant, all I wanted to do was push my chair out from my table, crawl under Gray's table, place my head on his knee, pull his heel into my crotch, rest it against my clit, close my eyes, and relax. But I couldn't.
Still, I was among friends.
As we chatted, Gray, who sat next to me, reached over and pinched my side. I kept my squealing low; there were other folks about. Gray then spoke about a new way of eating ash, a dominant way of eating ash. Of course I was curious, so he demonstrated the technique on me.
Occasionally when we've played, I've been a simple ash tray. I stick out my hand, Gray rolls the ash into my palm, and I hold it for him.
Gripping my hand, Gray squeezed my thumb and pinky together behind my palm creating a flat surface for his mock ash. Again I held back a yelp.
Pulling my hand to his lips, he licked the center of my palm, dancing the tip of his tongue on my skin. I now understood what others felt when my tongue graced their palms. It tickled in the most sensuous way I'd ever felt. I wanted to melt right there.
I couldn't have my head at Gray's knee, or his heel on my clit. I couldn't make my luggage weigh less. I couldn't magically be in bed, bathed, naked, and relaxed. But I did have Gray's tongue on my hand, felt the heat of his ash kiss on my skin.
Event though I was exhausted, Gray eating mock ash from my hand was enough to keep me going.
With the sacrifice of my Saturday a given, an unintended consequence arose. All of sudden I only had one day left at camp. One day to go to class. One day to play. One day to make everything happen.
When I woke up Sunday morning, I already had a tight schedule. One class, four play dates, participating in an elaborate scene, and I still wanted to spend some time with friends. I wondered how I would make everything work.
Quickly getting up, I showered, changed into a cute dress (cause this was my last day, dammit, I was going to look good), and headed to breakfast.
After food, I went to the one class I knew I wanted to make, Playing Well With Others. I had already taken one of Vesper's classes and knew that this one was a must see.
As luck would have it, two of my cabinmates attended. We shared a futon couch as Vesper spoke, asking everyone questions, engaging the entire class in the conversation. The discussion focused on Monogamous and Polyamorous relationships, how they differed, and elements that were important to every relationship.
At the end of the class, with most everyone gone (including my cabinmates) I found myself in a conversation with Vesper and one of the other class attendees. As one would expect, we mused on relationships and life in general.
As it was soon time for lunch, once our extra-class discussion came to a natural end, I asked Vesper if he'd like to have lunch together. I had felt a friendly vibe from him from our initial meeting and wanted to get more time to chat. He agreed. We strolled down to the Dining Hall.
During our meal, he flagged the camp organizers over. Vesper's flight home was that evening and he needed a ride to the airport. I was now very happy I'd asked to spend some time with him.
As the organizers thought on who could give Vesper a ride, an idea occurred to me: I could.
Yes, my schedule was tight, but I could postpone a playdate for later that evening, opening up the time I would need to get him there. With Vesper happy to have a ride with someone he actually knew, we called over to the organizers; problem solved.
Of course, this opened up a new can of worms for me, but I do love rising to challenges.
And thus began my three hour whirlwind.
First their was lunch with Vesper, chatting and laughing and such. Then, right after lunch, I rushed back to the cabin, changed, and waited for my first play date: cigar play lessons on the grass in front of my cabin.
I told the gentleman with whom I played simply, "You scare me. I appreciate that."
He replied, "The way I get girls to play with me is I scare them."
"Like I said, you scare me and I appreciate that."
He requested my clothes off. I left on my red underwear with the words "I HATE U" printed on them. I think he appreciated that.
After smoke-and-heat-and-ashy fun, and the promise of more play together at some time in the future, I grabbed my things and caught a taxi to the Dungeon for my second play date.
Jim was waiting for me. I was five minutes late.
We found a sex swing, setup two chucks (one in the swing and one on the floor), and then began our fun.
The date was Jim's idea. He quickly cleaned my boots before licking my leather and slipping his hand inside my pussy.
"You have to be quiet; they're having a class."
Behind Jim, across the Dungeon, I saw a group of people sitting in folding chairs having what seemed like an intense conversation.
I wanted to scream as Jim's fingers danced inside me. Orgasms rolled, but I had to muffle myself, my hands often covering my mouth, quieting my ecstasy.
When we finished, with about ten minutes to spare, Jim and I chatted for a moment.
As we spoke, I kept looking down at his boots. In a moment of asking for exactly what I wanted, Jim granted me permission to kiss his boots. I kissed and caressed his leather, allowing myself to get lost in the smell and sensation, but only for a few precious minutes.
Cleaning the swing and collecting my things, I put my dress back on. I thanked Jim for the fun and then ran off.
Arriving at Vesper's cabin, I was right on time. He said his goodbyes before we walked to my car.
During the ride, we again got to chatting, learning still more about each other. My initial vibe was confirmed in that car ride. He's a cool guy; I could definitely see us being friends.
I gave him a hug before he flew away, and then I flew back to camp. I still had two play dates and a psycho drama to perform in.
It was the simplest movement, the simplest motion. A submissive sat with her head on her Dom's knee. Then lightly, gently, she brushed her cheek against his knee. That was all it took to bring me to tears.
I quietly snuck my way downstairs, located the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and cried.
I wanted that. I missed that. I yearned for that.
Something so simple as my head on a knee, such slight affection. I had, for some time, forgotten how much I loved that, how much I ached for it each day.
I let myself cry, letting my sorrow spill out. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my eyes, wiping away my tears. I took a breath. I let myself cry again.
And then I regained my composure. I contemplated leaving the gathering, but I knew that would only make my heart hurt worse. Instead I steeled my resolve. This place was full of friends. I would be okay.
Slowly easing back upstairs, I again stayed on the periphery of the gathering. Looking over to my left, I saw a woman sitting on the floor working on a pair of leather shoes. She used products and techniques I had no seen before. Curious, I sat in a nearby chair and watched her work.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Poetic, can you let down your hair." My curls were pulled up in a tight bun. I pulled off my hair tie.
"Come with me." I followed Scotty to the adjoining lounge area.
Standing in the spot where he led me, I was surrounded by Scotty and three other friends. My head bent, their bodies close to mine, they all blew smoke into my hair, over and over again. And just like that, I felt better.
Relaxed, I nestled on the floor. PrincessA sat in a chair behind me. Softly, tenderly, she caressed my head and pulled on my hair. I let myself float on the feeling of her hands in my curls.
As I sat, having falling into the atmosphere of the gathering, a friend asked if I would black their boots. For a tip, their girl offered up his ashes to me. I assured her she did not need to tip me, but she insisted all the same. I accepted her gesture with gratitude.
As I worked on his leather, I took my time, giving care and attention to his boots. He blew smoke into my hair and onto my skin. After I finished, he and his girl thanked me for my efforts, saying his boots looked almost new. He then offered up his ash as my compensation. I ate it from his hand gratefully.
Finished with my first pair of boots, I turned to PrincessA and worked on her leather. As I gave her boots attention, I realized I felt right again. Whereas before I had been sorrowful, dejected, once again I felt the care and love of my friends. I felt like I belonged.
"It was dirty, nasty, perfect."
Yeah, so, it happened again. That moment where, in the middle of sex, I realized I was actually, surprisingly, yes again, having the best sex of my life.
I was slick with my sweat and his, mashing my face against and all over his balls while my tits caressed his dick. He reached up, grabbed my elbows, and shoved my arms behind my back. I held them there, held them tight. His mouth enclosed over my clit before he rubbed his beard up and down the length of my pussy. It was all I could do to not cum. The rule was his dick had to be down my throat if I wanted such enjoyment.
And there, not caring, lost in the moment of pure lust for this person, breath quick yet quiet trying not to wake anyone in the house, writhing in our pile of flesh, I just knew.
Fuck, this is the new best sex of my life.
It wasn't the position. It wasn't the sexual acts. All that we did was by no means new. But it was something in our manner, something in the intensity of who-knows-how-long we fucked (I didn't check, but I'm guessing an hour), something in how much at that moment I wanted him and he wanted me that made it all the best sex of my life.
I didn't start out the night expecting sex. I was just happy he was in town. I picked Gray up from the airport, endured traffic to help him run an errand, and we dined at Chipotle before heading to my home.
With quick re-introductions to folks, I gave him the ten cent tour and we soon found ourselves in the Sun Room, him smoking a cigar and me at his feet. Whiskey sat on a nearby table. We relaxed into the moment, relaxed into seeing and being around each other again.
There was play. There is always play when we are around each other. Ashing into my mouth. Eating ash out of his hand. As I rested against his thigh, he massaged my neck, my shoulders. He pulled my hair. He wrenched my head back. He kissed me. I sighed at his touch, felt breathless from his embrace.
At his request, I took off my shirt and bra. He slipped his unshod and sockless foot in between my legs. I hugged his calf to me.
The longer we chatted, the closer his heel came to my crotch. I wore no underwear. When finally he positioned himself with his heel against my clit, he told me to ride it. I pivoted my hips up and down, up and down.
He ran his cigar against my skin. He lightly touched his heat to my back. Quiet yelps escaped me. I clung harder to his calf. His heel pressed onto my clit.
"Cum for me poetic."
I gasped. I trembled. I rode his heel harder. He touched his heat to my skin. I lost myself in the pleasure and pain.
"I love to feel you tremble."
Even after I came, I still slowly kept riding his heel.
He broke off ash into his hands, bent down, and spread it all over my torso. I looked up at him, looked into his eyes. In the moment, I felt a joy, content, I had not experienced in so long.
Soon after it was time for bed. He would shower, but I wanted to sleep with his ash on me.
When he returned from his shower, he turned out the lights and slipped into bed. We cuddled. I kissed the length of his arm.
And then I just went for it. I had felt his cock grow hard while I had sat at his feet, had grazed my cheek against that which I so desperately wanted in my mouth.
And then it was. And then his hand played with my pussy, slowly easing its way inside me as I pushed back to sink further onto his hand.
Then, after such intensity, he grabbed me by my hips and pulled me on top of him. And his lips were on my clit. And my mouth lapped at his cock and balls. And we were sweaty and breathing heavy, and fuck...
When he picked my legs back up and off of him, I thought we were about to pass out, but oh no. He grabbed my hair and began fucking my face, my lips stroking the length of his cock. I rested my head against his thigh and happily took him into me, happily submitted to his will.
And then, fuck...
He got on top, straddling his legs over my face, sinking his cock into my mouth. I gripped his thighs, slipped his dick from my lips, sunk my face into his balls, and used my elbows to push my tits together so his cock could fuck them.
His lips returned to my clit, and then I couldn't stop it. Wave after wave of orgasm surged through me. Warmth, sweet warmth, mind blowing, holy-shit-yes ecstasy overtook me. It took every once of me not to scream, not to break free and just let my vocals chords soar as no less than three intense orgasms in a row pulsed from my abdomen out to my limbs and through the rest of my body.
He reached back, again stuck his cock in my mouth, and came. I gripped my thighs against his ears, fucked his face, and came hard with him.
And then, finally, we slumped over, sweaty and fucking exhausted.
It happened in an instant.
I was teaching my first class of the Grue, a presentation centered on cigar play from the bottom's perspective. Gray consented to helping me, taking on the role of my demo top. We had already demonstrated a few fun aspects of play (smoke kiss, smoke rise, and eating ash) when Gray noted he had more ash to give.
Since I'd already eaten ash out of another's hand, Gray asked if anyone else was interested in tasting the treat. My students didn't seem eager.
And then I volunteered my chest. Inretrepida piped right up.
However there were two problems. One, we were outside. I couldn't just take off my shirt for fear of snoopy neighbors. Two, the shirt I wore had a button up collar but did not completely open down the front.
Fixing the conundrum took a group effort. Gray held open the collar of my shirt. Rough held my necklace out of the way. Gray then spread the ash across my exposed chest and Inretrepida licked up the flecks.
This was, once again, one of my Minnesota moments where I felt spoiled. In that moment, my life absolutely did not suck.
But just as quickly it all tumbled away.
When the group stepped back, happy and gleeful from the experience, I sat up straight. Inretrepida had ash on her lips, so I took her head in my hands and licked it off.
And then I could feel it as it happened, yet I had no control to stop it. My necklace slipped from my neck onto the patio floor. Thankfully the chain mail caught on my Zim jacket, which I had been sitting on during my class. But my pendant and ring, which normally hung from the necklace, slipped through the wooden slats and landed under the patio.
"Oh no!" I cried. Tears welled in my eyes as I scurried off the patio and under the deck.
I saw the pendant through the slats when it first fell. With the assistance of one of my students, I was able to easily retrieve it. But then I realized the ring was missing too. Thankfully he saw it as well and pointed it out as I crawled over prickly wood to grab it.
Back on the patio, I remade my necklace. Chain mail again around my neck, my relative's ring and my Love pendant again kissing my skin, I felt right with the world again.
Sometimes I forget how attached I am to my necklace. It is a symbol of me, kink me, all of me. People have recognized me just from the metal around my neck.
On occasion that reality feels cumbersome, like a weight bringing me down. But in those moments, I reassure myself that my necklace is a symbol of my choosing. I can always take it off and set it to the side, a symbol of me I can pick up and put down at any time.
But when it fell, when it was almost gone, the realization that so much of me is associated with those pieces of metal came crashing into me.
I own me. That necklace is a subtle way of me projecting my own personal power over my life. And that symbol was almost taken away.
For a moment, I felt lost. For a moment, I was so near to crying an ocean of tears. For a moment, I felt like a part of me was almost gone.
We arrived five minutes early, groggy but excited. Inretrepida gave me a ride Saturday morning from The Naked House to the Grue, for which I was quite grateful. Otherwise I would've had to take three buses for about one and a half hours.
As we entered we deposited our shoes to the left and deposited ourselves to the right on a nearby couch. As more people filtered in, we crept downstairs for food: bagels, yogurt, juice, tea, and coffee.
I returned to my comfy couch and chatted with folks as they arrived. Soon, though, we were encouraged to make our way downstairs. It was almost time to start.
As I stood in the back leaning against a wall, Gray approached.
"Are you planning on teaching today?"
"Yes."
"Good, then I'll use you as an example." Always happy to be used.
With all the attendees ensconced in the couches and floor space of the basement, Gray began. He stood in front of a bookcase draped by a white sheet with various pieces of paper naming different spaces in the house taped to it. Otherwise it was blank. This, he explained, was our schedule. We were going to create our day.
"Think about something you're passionate about. Hold that thought."
And then his example began. Gray pointed to me, saying I would demonstrate the process for adding a class to the schedule as he narrated.
First, I pondered what I was passionate about. Putting my finger to my lips, I looked up and away, searching for my idea. And then it came to me. A smile burst onto my lips as my finger swung from my mouth and pointed to the sky, proclaiming my idea.
With the thought for my class acquired, I scurried to a coffee table full of pre-cut pieces of paper and sharpies. Selecting a piece of paper and a marker, I wrote the name for my class - Calling All Ashtrays: Cigar play from the bottom's perspective. Gray read the name for my class as I wrote it. Affixing two pieces of tape to my piece of paper, I chose a time slot and spot for my class.
With my example now finished, Gray opened up any and every one to add their classes to the schedule. I stepped back and watched as people filled the white sheet with their passions.
On my way back to my spot, Gray quickly spoke to me, saying if I wanted to teach another class I could. Since he mentioned it, I decided I would. Heading back to the table, I wrote on another piece of paper - Fingering 401: Fisting is Fun! I then added my second class to the schedule.
Almost immediately, there were changes to the schedule. I wanted to go to Inretrepida's Self Suspension class, so I moved my cigar play class back. Gray wanted to attend one of my classes and another presentation in the same time slot; more switching. Once everyone was happy and assured they would be able to not only teach their classes but attend the one's they found interesting, we settled back down.
With everyone's passions listed, and everyone ready to go, Gray sent us off to share and learn.
"Would you like to come to cigars after?" - Gray
"Yes, but I'd need a ride." - me
"You have it." - Symetrie
"What are the seat belt laws in this state?" - me
"Put it on." - Gray
The Meet & Greet ended at 10pm with the last few attendees walking out together, among them Inretrepida, Rough, myself, Gray, and Symetrie. With hugs and kisses and see you tomorrows, we parted.
I felt like one of the cool kids as Symetrie drove myself and Gray to an after party, cigars at Scotty's house.
When we arrived, we found folks congregated in the backyard, sitting in a circle of camp chairs. I greeted Scotty with a big hug.
"Hi. I crashed your party," I said shyly, while pouting.
"You are quite welcome."
As our trio settled into the assembled camp chairs, Scotty pulled a few more seats over to accommodate the small influx. Two were tall director style seats. I took one. Rough took the other, sitting to my left. Gray and Symetrie sat next to each other across the circle from me.
Introductions were made, cigars were lit, and fingers of whiskey poured. I sat back and relaxed, slightly sad that I had not brought my cigar supplies but happy to be in great company. (And also happy I wore a hoodie; it was a bit chilly.) With good conversation and cigar play happening all around, I was quite glad I'd made it to Minnesota.
"Poetic." A friend called to me. "Would you like to take some ash?"
"Yes please."
I sat my glasses in my chair and scurried over. He instructed me to open my mouth. I cocked my head back and looked into his eyes. As he lightly rolled his ash onto my tongue, I closed my eyes, taking in the small amount of heat. I then opened my eyes, now looking into his, still holding his ash on my tongue and my mouth open for him to see.
He then leaned down and kissed me, the ash mixing on our two tongues. He thanked me for my service. I thanked him for the privilege.
Back in my seat, conversations continued. Then my friend had the wonderful idea of having his girl crawl around the circle, the flap on her footy pajamas down, her bare ass available for spanking. Everyone took their turn hitting her as she slowly circled around before again sitting at her Daddy's feet.
"Poetic, you should crawl over to me with your ass out," said Gray. "And you should make an entrance."
Always eager to please, I left my hoodie on my seat, stepped outside of the circle, hiked up my skirt over my ass, got down on all fours, and made my entrance.
After thanking my first two spankers, who were just to my right as I entered the circle, Rough stopped me, resting his boot on my ass.
"Take a half step forward," he instructed. I did. He then reared back and literally kicked my ass.
"Thank you," I said.
I took my time around the circle, pausing for each new person, giving consent to those I had just met, and making sure to thank each and everyone who laid their hand on me.
I quite enjoyed the compliments the assembled group gave about my rear as I slowly crawled towards Gray.
Stopping in front of him, I rested on my knees, my mouth open and ready for his ash. He too rolled his ash into my mouth and had me hold it there for him to see. I loved the look on his face as I obediently waited til he gave me permission to eat it.
As I continued around the circle, one new friend asked permission to squeeze my ass. I, of course, gave it. He quite admired my cheeks, firmly gripping the muscles. Once back at my chair, I sat down again.
As conversation and play went on, I found myself turning to my left quite often to listen to comments... but also to admire the incredibly hot image of Rough with his super sexy boots and an impressive head of ash. I truly didn't know what to focus on, which I suppose is why he didn't notice my figurative drooling at first.
But, finally, he did catch me staring at his cigar.
"See something you like?" he asked.
"You have a pretty piece of ash there."
"Would you like my ash?"
"Yes please."
"On your knees." My heart still flutters at the memory of hearing that.
"Stick your tongue out." I obeyed. I closed my eyes and he lightly touched his ash to my tongue.
"Bite down." I did so, piercing the top of the head of ash.
"Open up." I opened my mouth back up and opened my eyes, now holding his stare. He then allowed me to eat his ash, thanking me. And I thanked him.
Sitting in my chair, there was one more piece of ash for me that night.
Gray beckoned me over once more. Again I hiked up my skirt and slowly crawled towards him.
"I want you on your back."
I flipped around, laid down on the grass, and straddled my legs in his lap, my cunt now right in front of him. With one perfect sweeping touch, Gray ashed onto my pussy.
"Play with it."
I closed my eyes and rubbed my clit, feeling the ash on my sensitive nub, the sensation of the flecks against me. And then I felt Gray's cigar in my pussy as he began fucking me with.
"Cum."
Instantly my muscles tensed and delicious warmth pulsed from my abdomen. I writhed on the grass, cumming for him.
My orgasm finished, Gray brought the cigar back to his lips, the tobacco now flavored for his enjoyment. He thanked me, I thanked him, and returned to my seat.
With the night growing cooler still, the cigar circle soon disbanded. Hugs were given all around. Unfortunately some from the circle would not be able to attend the Grue, but could make it to Sunday pancakes or MN Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate.
Symetrie and Gray gave me a ride back to The Naked House.
As I crept into bed, I finally saw PrincessA. I briefly filled her in on my full and interesting day before we both passed out.
"I can wait; she's worth waiting."
"Now you know what it's like to be a presenter; everyone wants a piece of you."
After the Dirty Pig Leather Contest, I packed up my kit and headed down to the Cigars and Services event in the Pavilion. It had already been underway for a bit, but I was the first bootblack to arrive. After retrieving a few chairs, I made a place for us at the edge of the stage, opened my kit back up, and waited.
While arranging the bootblack area, I happened to bump into SirRonC. He introduced me to his friend, Prophet, and inquired if I was doing cigar service for anyone. I informed him I was not, but that I was bootblacking at the front.
I ate ash from Prophet's hand, a new experience for him. I also offered to check on him throughout the night to see how he was doing.
My first set of boots was a fellow classmate from earlier that day. As I worked on his boots, we chatted. His leather was new and needed little attention other than a standard cleaning and conditioning. My services were soon complete and he was on his way.
As I waited at the bootblack station for my next pair to work on, Rabbit approached. He was to be another bootblack for the event. He left to retrieve his kit and came back as I was working on my next pair.
My next set of boots were far more difficult than my first.
Pendragon sat down in my chair. As I looked on his leather, I silently cursed. He had been working to help bring the camp back from the storm. As such, his leather was beyond dirty.
I worked hard to clean all the mud and grass from his boots. I earned my tip from him.
As I worked on Pendragon's boots, I heard people behind me. One voice I recognized was Stefanos. He was to be next in my chair.
At least, I thought he was to be next.
Once I finished Pendragon's boots, his companion, who had quietly sat on the stage floor next to him, sat in my chair. Neither her nor Pendragon informed me she also needed my service.
Stefanos was not put off. "I can wait; she's worth waiting."
I informed Pendragon's companion that I would be right back. I wanted to check on Prophet since it had been a spell since I last saw him.
As I stood up to step away, Gray, who had been chatting with Stefanos behind me, grabbed my attention for a moment.
"Now you know what it's like."
"What?"
"Now you know what it's like to be a presenter; everyone wants a piece of you. Just remember, keep something for yourself."
I took his comment with a grain of salt and rushed off to find Prophet. He was indeed good. His cigar was near finished, with no ash for me to eat though. I politely asked to be released from assisting him, my bootblacking obligation being more than I initially realized. He graciously agreed.
Back at my station, I worked on the companion's boots. These were her first pair and they were beautiful. I consulted with Rabbit as to how I should condition them. Once done, both she and I were pleased with the results. She walked away happy.
And then Stefanos sat down in my chair...
"Cigar Play 201: Let's Burn Some Bitches!" - me
He skipped the simple intro. He skipped anything you could find on Google. That was not the point of the class.
From the start, Cigar Play 201 was about intensity. It was about expanding your base notion of what cigar play could look and feel like. This play was hotter than the cherry in his tobacco. It was the kind of play I loved.
He used his butterfly knife to cut his cigar, gripping his arm around her neck. Even the sound of his opening the blade, spinning it out from it's handle, was enough to illicit a twinge in my panties.
He used her as a "humandor", covering three cigars in a condom and slipping them inside of her. Sexy hillarity ensued throughout the class each time she moved.
He talked about ashing on different parts of the body. Ash on the bottom's body for sensation play. Ash on your own body and ordering them to lick it off. He ashed on her chest, which then cascaded down her front, with flecks ending up on his boot. She dutifully licked his leather clean.
He brought the cigar to her face, to her ear. He brought the hot cherry close to her skin. Though we could not see it, she heard it. The crackling of her hair being burned off.
One of my favorite topics came up: smoke in the hair. She had just recently washed hers, making it difficult for the smoke to appear.
He asked me to pinch hit. I put down my notebook, bopped forward, and bent over with my head of hair ready for use. He blew smoke in, the heat washing over me. The class liked the demo.
He briefly touched on smoke and ash as items in rituals. I noted this for later.
To enjoy a tasty treat, she first prepped her tongue, pooling saliva in her mouth. He then rolled his ash onto her tongue. He especially liked the sound it made, "like a fajita in your mouth."
For a bit of the dramatic, he held his lighter by the end of his cigar. His torch ignited, instead of puffing, he blew out. The gases built up in the cigar expelled, creating a flame at the end of his stick.
With a lump of hot ash in his hand, he gripped her hand over his. They burned together, nowhere else for the heat to escape but into their skin. They were marked together, a shared pain, a shared experience, a shared bond. I remembered that feeling.
He ended the class with an all encompassing demo. Using cat's paw, he secured her wrists to her legs. One hand served as a whiskey holder. Another was an ash tray. Her toes held his cigar. He used the three sticks in her pussy to fuck her. He allowed her to cum.
Class dismissed.
"I'm going out tomorrow to buy destroyable clothing."
"I don't think you understand the concept of destroyables?"
"Oh no, I do. It's just I don't own any clothes I want you to destroy, so I'm buying some for you to cut off."
We left around quarter after noon with a goal of returning by 4pm. I didn't think it would take us long, but it did. I'm really glad we left so early.
Slut and I were on a mission. I needed two sets of destroyable clothing, plus a list of items for various people. Also ManKracken! had suggested I attempt to make as many off campus runs as I could, seeing as I would be at camp for eight days. For my sanity, and to aid our friends, Slut and I went on a supplies run.
Heading out, we followed my GoogleMaps intructions to a random residential neighborhood. Speed bump. After some quick recalculations, we found our way to the shopping plaza.
We ate lunch at an Asian buffet and enjoyed the air conditioning in the three digit heat.
"We look like domestic abuse victims." That we did. My leopard spots were already developing.
After lunch was GoodWill, where I purchased a top, skirt, and dress for my two scenes that would include cutting off of my clothing.
"Be careful. Don't get attached to your destroyables." Thankfully I picked outfits Slut thought looked cute on me but I had no special attachment to.
After GoodWill was Wal-Mart; big fail there. No bug netting. No Ronson lighter. No softcups. We needed to make at least two more stops.
As I quickly found a CVS, Slut soon showed her fatigue. She stayed in the car as I dashed in and out. Emboldened by finding the last box of the needed feminine items, I searched still further for a cigar shop, needing supplies for Graydancer's Cigar Play 201 class, which started in an hour and a half.
I was so gleeful to find a tobacco shop five minutes away. My glee was soon replaced with devastation as I walked up to the window, looked inside, and realized the store was empty.
Searching again, I found another shop ten minutes away. Speeding, I then realized I needed to pay a six dollar toll to get there. But, once I got there, heaven. I found the lighter I needed, purchased a punch for myself, and took a bunch of cards to hand out to cigar folk.
We made it back on campus with just enough time for me to deliver supplies and hussle over to Gray's class.
"Ah... fuck me!"
When my alarm woke me up from my nap, I was grumpy. For a moment, I didn't remember where I was. For a moment, all I knew was that I wanted to go back to sleep.
And then I remembered I was at Shibaricon. And then I remembered I was going to a cigars, boots, and chocolate social.
Pulling myself out of bed, I hastily took a shower and assembled my outfit for the night, an iteration of my school girl uniform with the addition of my boots.
With my bootblack kit and hoodie (in case of chill) in tow, I headed downstairs. I was fashionably late as I exited the lobby onto the private patio.
Though there was much room, unfortunately the patio was long but not very wide. It was rather like a large hallway that was missing one and a half walls. Still there were friends in attendance, smoke in the air, and bootblacks already hard at work. I set my kit aside, pulled out my cigar accoutrement, and breezed my way through the crowd giving greetings.
"Hey pretty girl," said Gray as I passed by him and many other seated gentleman. I smiled, then paused for a moment.
"Hmm...?"
"What? You're a pretty girl." He casually rubbed my thigh and ass.
Was that on purpose or just a coincidence? I didn't want to know.
Moving past the awkward moment (which I will explain towards the end of this month), I continued to mingle.
Surprisingly, happily, I saw a familiar face. Even in the dim light, it was still easy to recognize NHF. He, along with other folks from Minnesota, had made the trek to Chicago.
With a stick ready to smoke, NHF allowed me to give service as I helped him light his cigar. We got to chatting about Shibaricon and our lives in general. I mentioned Doc and Green Eyes, wallowing & dancing. He praised me for my openness.
Feeling brave, I inquired about his dance card. He said it was mostly empty. We agreed on a play date for the next night, after the Cabaret.
With a head of ash now atop his cigar, NHF granted me the pleasure of eating it from his hand. Without missing a beat, we fell right into the D/s dynamic we'd had on my last night in St. Paul, the last time I'd seen him, the first time we'd met.
Grabbing my hair, he guided my head to his palm. Completely covering my mouth, I ate my treat from his hand. He then allowed me a modicum of freedom to move my face about as I liked and sucked his palm.
NHF turned out to be the appetizer for my evening. With official introductions given, I was granted the pleasure of eating from both of Gray's female companions' hands. Then Jocasta, a wonderful woman who gifted me not only rope but cigar boxes in our last encounter, also offered her ash to me. Lastly Lochai, ever the dirty man, served up his ash on the chest of one of his girls. I was able to share my treat with her as our lips both tasted his flecks in a kiss. To end my ash eating, Lochai granted me a smoke kiss.
As I drifted away from the seated group, I found myself back next to NHF. Once again feeling bold, I asked if he could grant me the pleasure of his smoke in my hair. As he got closer, very close, I felt the heat both from his breath and his body against me.
We stood, me in front of him. My ass near his crotch. His hands on my hips. I found myself needing to bend down for things. My water bottle. My chocolate. Each time I presented my ass. Once his hand slipped under my skirt, caressing my ass, the touch I had hoped for through my nonverbal hints.
As more people filtered in and out, MattP and Inretrepida arrive. As we chatted, NHF decided to sit down and invited me to relax next to him. In doing so, I knew this brought us back to the same level; the D/s moment had ended.
Well, mostly.
When a student from my cigar play class approached, I knew I had just what she needed: an Acid Blondie. It had been gifted to me earlier that day, and now I was gifting it to her.
With my preferred gateway cigar, I demonstrated to her the service/ritual aspects I'd talked about in class. I removed the cellophane, took off the band, wet & cut the end, and offered the tobacco back to her. As she held it, I produced my flame. Her stick lit, I again reminded her to not inhale.
Soon she had a head of ash ready for my consumption. Her hand out, my treat before me, my face was soon in her palm. As I ate her ash, I felt a familiar hand in my hair.
"You'd better eat that ash right."
NHF's voice in my ear made this new experience I gave to my student so much hotter, at least for me.
My treat finished, NHF's hand slipped from my strands. We all went back to chatting. The D/s moment had passed. But I still had a play date set for the next evening.
Bravery accomplished.
"Is there anything else you could use to wet the cigar?"
"Why yes, there is."
It had been on my mind for quite some time. Would I? Could I? Should I?
I'd even thought of a fun name, spunky and cute, yah know like me.
But then came the nerves. The self doubt.
I'll just be a student today; I don't need to present. I'll learn so much from all the people here; my voice isn't needed.
But when the white board still had open spots, when the opportunity flashed itself in front of me, I couldn't just let it go.
Still, there was the logistical problem.
"Gray, should I put up a class?"
"Why not?"
"It's cigar play."
"Make it a discussion."
I quickly got up, got a piece of paper from Lqqkout, hastily scribbled down Cigar Play - poeticdesires, and added my passion to the board. (So much for the spunky name.)
After some rearranging, I was slated for 4:30pm in section 6 of the main room. Before flitting off to demo bottom for my first class, my friend Scotty approached.
"I'll help you with the cigar play class."
"Great!"
And then the moment came.
Funny enough, for the previous class session, I attended Inretrepida's Can You Tie Your Shoes? Great, Let's Have A Rope Scene in the same section of the ballroom where I would be teaching. Slut took pleasure in tying me up, pulling my hair, beating me, and sucking on my nipples. Quite a great way to warm up for my class.
As people cycled in and out of the rooms, I set my stuff to the side and pulled up a chair. Scotty also arrived and pulled up a seat.
"Oh, the chair I got was for you."
I put my chair to the side. He sat in his seat while I took my place on the floor. We began.
Cigar play is the one kink I exclusively bottom to, so with Scotty there, I felt the discussion would be complete. He would give the top's perspective and I would speak for the bottoms.
I introduced myself, as did Scotty, and then I started talking about my passion. I spoke about smoke, heat, and ash. I discussed safety hazards and tips for cigar bottoms. I went over three catergories of play: ritual, service, and submission.
And, of course, a few of my friends were in attendance, namely Gray & TwistedView. I'm not sure if they were hecklers or shills.
For their enjoyment, and the others in the class, I demonstrated how to wet the end of a cigar.
"Is there anything else you could use to wet the cigar?" Gray asked.
"Why yes, there is."
I mentioned how I could've used my pussy juices, but Scotty and I are not fluid bonded. There was also the suggestion of blood. And semen. This section was an interesting turn in our conversation.
As our time ran out, and everyone had to depart, I of course pimped an event that evening, Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate. It felt like I was giving people homework, but more fun. Hmm... maybe it was more like extra credit.
People dispersed. I flitted off to another class.
But, for a shiny thirty minutes, I got to speak about my passion. I sat in front of a group of people and talked to them about a subject I knew and loved.
For once, instead of being the Teacher's Pet, I was the presenter.
