Before we were together, the garage was where my wife would slip off to for a smoke. “Getting fresh air,” as she called it. She switched to vaping a few weeks before our first date, but knowing what it does to me, she still has the occasional cigarette in the bedroom.

We were supposed to have the house to ourselves the other weekend, but plans changed, and our daughter stayed home. It had been a long week, and we were dead set on getting our time, so we decided to sneak out to the garage later that night.

Well, I say “we decided,” but I had a fantasy of my wife re-enacting her old routine for me with some “creative license,” and she knew it. I was just seizing the opportunity.

I grabbed her Marlboros and ashtray from their hiding spot, and we made our way to the garage. The air smelled like sawdust and oil. Junk piled wherever it would go. In the far corner, a shop table was covered in cardboard boxes.

She set everything on a ladder leaned against the wall, giving me that look like she was reading my every thought. She pulled a cigarette from the pack, slid it between her lips, and lit up. The spark of the lighter, the long draw, then the garage filled with smoke.

She laughed under her breath and wandered to the shop table. One of the boxes was full of empty packs. She peeked inside.

“Yeah, this is where I used to smoke when I’d come out here.”

She took another drag and walked back over. A folding chair sat next to a stack of unopened moving boxes. She gestured to it.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable.”

I sat. She leaned down, locking her lips on mine as she exhaled. I touched myself over my pants, then slid my hand past the waistband and around my cock as she blew more smoke in my face. I felt the toy in my hoodie pocket.

A clear, blue inflatable waterwing. Perfectly innocent to anyone who hasn’t found this side of the internet.

She took the toy, dragged deep, and wrapped her lips on the valve before filling it with smoke. Another drag, the other side. I slid my pants down as she spit straight into the toy until it was dripping. Then she handed it back. I entered the toy, warm with her breath and spit, and she leaned down again with her mouth full of smoke.

She paused for eye contact, then lowered her open mouth around the tip, letting smoke drift and tease. She pulled away, smoking slow, while I fucked the toy to the rhythm of her drags. Every so often, she leaned down again, a mouthful of smoke waiting for me.

Then she smiled, lowered herself down again, and got me right up to the edge before stopping.

“Meet me inside. Now you’re going to fuck me.”

She took one last drag, crushed the cigarette out, and left the garage. I sat in the haze for a minute, soaking it in, then went inside and finished the job.