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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me!” replied Charlie.

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

But now Charlie’s tongue was moving north, gently flicking at the tight brown bud of her asshole as he probed one finger into her wet cunt. “Oh yeah, Charlie, lick my arsehole while you finger-fuck my pussy, baby – that’s so fuckin’ good,” whimpered Tracy. Charlie’s ministrations slowly eased Tracy’s cunt-lips apart, so they were wet and ready for his cock. He knelt up so his big dickhead could gently nudge its way between his girlfriend’s cunt-flaps. He kissed the back of her neck, and reached one arm around her to stroke her small pert tits, making her nipples begin to puff up with pleasure. Tracy shifted so she was at just the right angle to take Charlie’s dick all the way in, and pushed backwards so that his cock slid smoothly into the depths of her cunt.

“Oh fuck, baby, that’s good!” exclaimed Charlie, as he felt Tracy’s soft velvety depths caress his shaft all the way down. “You are so fucking sexy!”

“That’s me!” replied Tracy coquettishly, tossing her mane of black hair and jiggling her arse as she slowly fucked her cunt back and forth on Charlie’s hard rod. She had never found doggy-fucking particularly pleasurable (No way of rubbin’ my clit, that’s the problem, she thought to herself), but thought it a worthwhile price to pay for keeping Charlie happy and avoiding another row about her smoking. Every now and again she pulled off almost entirely, so that Charlie’s dickhead nudged just in-between her juicy fuck-flaps, and gently jiggled her hips around to tease his glans, before lunging backwards to engulf his fuck-stick whole and entire in her hot cunt. Charlie was in seventh heaven: “Oh fuck, that’s so fucking good, baby. You sure know how to fuck a dick, baby. Now turn over so I can fuck you mish.”

Oh shit, thought Tracy. How do I get out of this one? But then she had a brainwave: “Let me go on top, babe. That way you can see my face and tits…”

Obediently, Charlie lay down on his back, letting Tracy climb on top and start to fuck her cunt up and down his hard shaft. Eager to make him come soon, she used all her best tricks, loosening her cunt muscles before sliding smoothly down, and then squeezing tight around his rod before lifting up. Charlie was happy: “Oh yeah, baby, you are so fucking sexy! Let me kiss you, babe,” he said, holding up his arms affectionately.

Oh shit, thought Tracy again. She really didn’t want to kiss him now. She knew he would smell smoke on her breath – despite the multiple gargles: Charlie was never fooled. “Hey, let me fuck you cowgirl a bit longer, baby. Yeehaw, pardner!” she joked, rather lamely, as she slapped her right buttock and bounced her cunt up and down his cock faster, hoping to make him come before he insisted on kissing her on the lips. It didn’t work. Charlie was approaching his orgasm and didn’t want his girl semi-detached any longer. He pulled Tracy downwards and began to lick her face, probing her lips with his tongue. Tracy reluctantly reciprocated, opening her mouth to intertwine her tongue with his, hoping against hope that, in his ecstasy, he wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t mind the disguised reek of smoke on her breath.

She hoped in vain. “Aw, fuck, Trace, what the…? You’ve been smoking already? What did you do, sneak outside while I was asleep?” She felt Charlie’s dick go soft inside her.

“Aw, Charlie, I cleaned my teeth and gargled and everyfink. Can’t you put up with it?” she pleaded. “After all, you like the way I fuck you, don’tcha? Here, let me fuck you till you come in my cunt, hey?”

“You don’t realise what a fucking turn-off it is, do you, Trace? How can I fuck a girl who stinks like a fucking ashtray when I kiss her? Can’t you even go one morning without it? I thought you promised me you’d have your first cigarette after breakfast!”

“Yeah, maybe I did – but it’s not so easy, babe: I really need my cigarettes. Please, let me make you come now. Then you’ll feel better, and it won’t matter anymore.” Tracy started to rub her wet pussy against Charlie’s deflated dick, trying – in vain – to get it hard again. But it was not to be. Charlie had lost interest – and his temper.

“You pathetic bitch!” he sneered. “How dare you treat me like this?” He pushed Tracy off him, his cock still slimy with fuck-juice but now completely soft. Tracy sat at the foot of the bed, her legs apart and her half-fucked pink cunt still on full display – but Charlie was no longer interested. “This is my house! If you want to live in my house, you follow my rules. Your smoking habit is disgusting and filthy. I won’t a have dirty smoker in my bed!”

“Your house! It’s your fuckin’ parents’ house! And how the fuck would you live in this fuckin’ house if I didn’t earn the money to pay the fuckin’ bills? You ‘won’t have a smoker in your bed’?! You’re perfectly happy to have me in your bed when I’m suckin’ your cock, or when you’re coming all over my fuckin’ face – or when you’re eatin’ my arsehole! How come smokin’ makes me dirty, but lickin’ my shitter isn’t dirty?! What the fuck! You just use me to get your end off when it suits you! You don’t care about me!”

“I earn as much fucking money as you do! Who’s the one who keeps getting fucking fired from her job? And why? For fucking smoking on the fucking job! I’m not the only one who thinks your smoking is disgusting! And it’s not as if I’m the only one who likes getting fucked! ‘Please, Charlie, fuck me, Charlie, I’m so fuckin’ horny, Charlie, I need your dick in my pussy, Charlie…’ Jesus fucking Christ, am I the only one who wants to get his end off?!”

“Well, at least I’m tryin’ to get a job! Not like you, with your fuckin’ music! How much fuckin’ money have you made this month? You’re not the one answerin’ job ads!”

“Oh yeah – what is it: ‘Number One Fucking Ladies Fucking Detective Agency’? What the fuck is that? What do they want – a filthy toilet-cleaning whore? Well, you’ll do, ‘coz that’s all you’re fucking good for, YOU WORTHLESS FILTHY FUCKING SMOKING TRASH CUNT WHORE!!!”

Tracy’s eyes welled up with tears, and she ran sobbing from the room and down the stairs. At first she was determined to walk out immediately and never come back, and in her rage reached the front hallway before she realised she was still stark naked and – even worse – had forgotten her cigarettes. “Fuck, what do I do now?” she muttered to herself, wiping the tears off her face. Of course, there was nothing for it. Now she really needed another cigarette – and she couldn’t smoke in the house, so she would have to eat humble pie, go upstairs, and dress in the bedroom before leaving.

She needn’t have worried: Charlie was now in the shower, and the door to the bathroom was shut. Tracy hastily dried her hair, threw on her grey skirt suit, grabbed her make-up bag and her cigarettes, came downstairs again, and let herself out the front door. She lit her third cigarette of the day on the front doorstep, leapt into her car, and drove away. By the time she had reached McDonald’s she was on her fourth cigarette, which she smoked in the car through her Egg McMuffin and coffee. Cigarettes five and six dangled from her lips as she did her make-up and hair in a lay-by. And by the time she reached her destination, a car park behind a small suburban office-block, she was on number seven. So much for all that fuckin’ garglin’! Tracy mused. They probably won’t hire me now: they’ll smell the smoke on me. Nobody wants to hire smokers these days. We stink too much. And we waste time going on fuckin’ smoke breaks. And we smoke in the fuckin’ toilet because we’re too fuckin’ lazy to go outside. “And I am, after all” – she sighed, as a wave of genuinely shameful melancholy briefly overtook her, “a worthless filthy fuckin’ smokin’ trash cunt whore…”

For a moment, tears welled behind Tracy’s eyes. But then the image of Charlie screaming at her entered her mind again. She took a long last drag of her cigarette, exhaled half of her lungful between pursed lips, and then let the rest out in a series of gentle puffs as she said out loud, “Fuckin’ dickhead.”