The Coach (Introduction)

The Coach
by CallieKoe

Prelude
I've written several "smoking stories" anonymously.  I'll leave it to you to
figure out which ones.  But I get SO tired of reading about the girl who
starts at age 13 (or six) in two or three paragraphs.  There have to be some
real life stories of real men who have "coached" real women to start smoking
for them. They may be few and far between but I find it hard to believe that
there aren't a few guys out there who've actually lived the fantasy they read
and write about.  I've had several success stories and would like to share
them with you. 

Introduction: Early Experiences

I first discovered my attraction to girls who smoke my freshman year of high
school.  Two specific scenes come to mind as I try and recall just when and
where this intense love affair began.  The first was at a local high school
baseball game in Washington State where I grew up. My dad I went to the city
park to watch our team play our hometown rival.  I loved baseball more than
anything until high school-when I discovered girls. I still enjoyed playing
and watching it, but I had found a new passion in life and that was the
opposite sex.  

At some point during the game, I turned around and noticed a nicely endowed
blonde girl in a long-sleeved white rib-knit sweater. She was laughing with
her friends and I watched intently as she pulled a long, white-filtered
cigarette from her purse.  She paused briefly to bring her lighter to the end
of the cigarette and then flicked the wheel and inhaled deeply.  She turned
back toward her friends and smiled broadly again, taking another very deep
inhale.  I was totally mesmerized by the thick, rich cloud of smoke that
exhaled from her soft, full lips.  I was both excited and embarrassed; wanting
to stare and afraid of being caught.  Secretly I dreamed of sitting next to
her with my arm around her, my hand sliding up and down her back as she drew
deeply on her cigarette.  I imagined waiting until she had fully inhaled and
then drawing her close to me to kiss her while she exhaled.  I became so
caught up in this fantasy that I actually had a rather embarrassing early teen
moment without so much as laying a hand on myself?

It was this experience that somehow seems to have imprinted itself on my mind.
Not just a fetish, but a mental tattoo as is were.  An attractive girl in a
soft, knit sweater that gently hugs her beautiful, shapely figure, who also
loves to smoke.  Soft, round breasts accented by a figure-hugging top, small
waist, and a cigarette.  But not "just" a cigarette, but a woman who
absolutely LOVES to smoke.  Somehow, unconsciously at this point, I knew then
that I would never be satisfied with any other kind of woman.  No "I started
smoking when I was too young to know better and wish-to-God I could quit"
ladies.  It wasn't until sometime later I formulated my current mantra: THE
THREE "S's":  Sweaters, sex and smoking.  I realized then that any one or two
without the other would be incomplete but it would take me some time to figure
how to "marry up" all three. 

The second was at the home of my best friend, Duckey, whose real name was
Mark, but being from New Hampshire, well, he just had to have a nickname (like
everyone else in his family.)  Duckey's mother, Donna, was in her mid-thirties
and a still a very attractive woman.  While he had lost his New England
accent, his mom still spoke in that unique way that turned "r's" into "ah"s".
She had a nice figure and a pretty smile and dressed nicely.  But what most
intrigued me was watching her smoke.  She was a pack-and-a-half a day smoker
of Winston 100s-the extra long, cork-filtered cigarette.  

Donna not only smoked heavily but she had an inhale I had never seen before.
And she seemed to actually love  to smoke.  She would take the deepest of
drags, hold it briefly, then let the entire cloud slip from her open mouth and
then snap it instantly deep into her lungs.  I hadn't seen this before but
watching her do it absolutely made me CRAZY!

Being fifteen, I thought I was some sort of pervert; the only guy on the
planet who liked watching women smoke.  Of course I also KNEW I was the only
person on earth who wacked off so I was sure I was some sort of sicko.  Little
did I know? 

I found myself mesmerized by this strange, but oh-so-sexy maneuver.  I often
found myself looking for opportunities to talk with her alone in hopes of
watching her "smoke pretty" as I called it back then.  I have no idea how many
hours we spent talking.  Life, lost loves, dreams and our futures.  Some many
years later I still believe Donna found this flattering as her husband was a
violent, hard-drinking blue-collar man who seemed not to care what she thought
or how she felt.  But I enjoyed talking with her and at fifteen was
surprisingly able to carry on a decent conversation.  I think it really made
her feel important to have a "younger man" take such an interest in her life.
I asked about her past and her dreams and she was only too willing to tell me
all her most deeply held secrets. Just before Christmas that year I finally
worked up the nerve to ask her when she had started smoking and whether or not
she enjoyed it.  She laughed and said, "I shouldn't say this to a minah
(minor, I believe to all you non-New Englanders) but I LOVE smoking. In fact,
I no sooner light one up than I start thinking of my next cigarette.  And as
to how I started, well that's a rather long story."  I listened intently,
hanging on every word, as she told me about her first cigarette after her
junior prom.

"Richard (her husband), had asked me to the prom. He was a senior and I'd had
a SUCH a crush on him all year. He was a senior and the quarterback on the
football team and SO handsome.  I had tried unsuccessfully to flirt with him
since before homecoming but he only had eyes for my cousin Dodie (another
nickname).  I would have done ANYTHING just to go out with him. Do you know
how that feels?" she asked me.  I blushed as I answered, "Yes, in fact, I do."
"Sweet on someone aren't you?" she teased as she reached for another cigarette
and inhaled until her cheeks caved in nearly touching each other.  While I was
above average in conversation for my age, I had no way to express that I so
wanted to make love to her while she smoked for me.  So instead, I just
listened.  "In May, just before prom and the end of the school year, Richard
just walked up to one day and said, 'Donna, you want to go to prom with me?'"
"I completely melted but blurted out, 'YES.'" All he said was "fah out" and
walked away.

"He actually showed up after I'd spent $100 for a prom dress. A LOT of money
back then!"  He took me to dinner at the nicest place in town-Averill's diner.
All of the couples went there every year.  To make a long story short, Richard
pulled out a pack of cigarettes at dinner and lit one. I was staring intently
at his handsome face and didn't really even notice until he said, "Is this
bothering you?"  I quickly replied, "Oh, not at all. I didn't even know you
smoke."
"Since last year," he replied. "You want one?" he asked politely. "No
thanks, I said. I'm sure I'd cough and choke on it, but thank you for asking."

After dinner, we went to the prom and danced all night long.  "It was as if no
one else was in the room. Just Richard and me."  He never even looked at
another girl.  I was SO "in love."  After the dance we went out to the lake
and Richard lit up another cigarette.  He handed it to me and said, "Here,
honey, take a puff."  For some reason, I just took it and did. I had no idea
how to inhale and took it straight into my lungs.  I really did cough and
choke!  He laughed and said, "No, no, you have to hold in your mouth for a
second then inhale."  I tried again, but afraid I'd cough, let it all out at
once, then realizing what I'd done, 'pulled' it all back in again.  This time
it went down into my lungs and it felt, well, SO good.  I felt warm and tingly
and thought, "Where have you been all my life??" She concluded by saying,
"Richard and I, well, that night, we, uh, 'fell in love' and decided to get
married. And it was that same night I had him stop by the only store in town
still open to buy me a pack of cigarettes.  I woke up the next morning and
smoked one and have never regretted it to this day."

These two scenarios turned out to be seminal events in shaping the future of
my life.  The combination of sweaters and smoking proved to be the center of
my interest in all future women but I was soon disappointed to discover that
most women did NOT smoke.  In fact, I learned only about one in three or four
actually did. And it seemed each time I found myself attracted to a beautiful
girl who also wore the things I liked, the first question I would
surreptitiously ask her girlfriends was "do you know if she smokes?" Without
exception they all thought I was asking to screen them out as possible dates
rather than to further pursue them.  Not so unusual I suppose unless you
consider that I was then a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints, the Mormons.  I was a pretty popular guy back then.  Class president,
good looking, (so I'm told) and someone each girl's mother I dated said would
be a "great catch."  But in each case, the answer was always "no."  It was
then that I began to ponder the situation with Donna and Richard and wondered
whether a girl could be convinced to smoke by a guy she really liked and who,
in turn, really liked her.

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