Now that’s a fine cigar He had seen her several times before. She came into the shop, browsed around. However, he had always been with a customer or on the phone. She had always made her choices, paid for them, and left before he had a chance to even say hello. She walked out the door and out of his life dozens of times and he was always left disappointed. She walked into the store at the end of his shift.
He was in back, bringing in boxes to place in the humidor room and he saw her walking in. Not a single person in the store except his boss and himself. He set the box he was carrying down, checked his hair, adjusted the belt of his jeans, and strode to the counter and her. “Can I help you?” He was two feet from her. She seemed unconcerned with him, looking at the cigarette cases in the glass counter in front of her. She was attractive, but not ‘bitch pretty’. Deep burgundy red hair cut in a bob that wrapped around her face at the chin.
Large hazel eyes, with lots of green and gold in them. And lips, oh those lips. She was rummaging in her bag, pulled out a silver case, and showed it to him. “Do you have the flints for this lighter? I can’t seem to find them anywhere and this is my favorite case. I can never keep a lighter, so this is perfect.” She handed him the case and he saw it held cigarillos and a built in lighter. Her hands were small, but not too small. Fingers finely formed but not delicate. Medium length nails painted a dark colour, brick? No, deep blood red, he decided. “I’m also looking for something new to smoke, can you help me, show me some brands I haven’t tried?” She looked up at him and smiled softly. He felt his heart thumping in his chest and felt a stirring in the denim of his jeans. “I’ll get those flints from the back” he said. “Perhaps you’d like browse the humidor or relax in the ‘smoker’s room’ while I take care of these?” She smiled again, “Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.” She turned away and moved towards the smoker’s room door.
He watched her hips roll, full but not too full. Clothed in some kind of silky stretch fabric, all in black, sexy long skirt. Nothing exposed, nothing revealed. She moved like a big cat, slow, languid, and powerful. He walked into the back stock room, past his boss who said, “you’d better watch the door, I just installed a new lock. Wouldn’t want to lock anyone out, now would you?” He winked and smiled. “I’m sure she’s very discriminating, better show her a big selection. We dont want a customer like her to go away unhappy, now do we?” The boss patted him on the shoulder and handed him a key.
“The liquor cabinet is fully stocked, she’ll ask for brandy, I’ll bet.” He looked at the man puzzled, but took the key regardless. He made his way to the humidor, pulled fifteen of his favorite boxes, placed them on the silver service cart used for special clients and wheeled it into the smokers room. “Ah, excellent,” she purred. “A collection of your favorites, I’ll wager. Wonderful.” She smiled again; shifted forward in the smooth leather of the club chair she was seated in as if to give her undivided attention. “I’m all yours,” she said lowly. “Oh, but” her smile grew broader, a touch devilish. “Aren’t you going to lock the door? I don’t like to be interrupted when choosing something new.” Her smile was innocent, despite the words that had just passed through her lips. He resolved to be all business, for now. Plenty of time to size up her intentions, he thought excitedly. They settled in and he began pulling from the tray. He laid Aristoff Belicosos, Romeo y Julieta vintage, Cohiba, and La Luna out in their wooden boxes on the table in front of her. She opened each slowly, lifted the box to her face and inhaled the fragrance of the tobacco inside. She ran her dark red fingertips down the length of the cigars as they lay in their box. She chose one, picked it carefully from the others. She again sniffed it, rolled it in her fingertips close to her ear. One long last sniff down the entire length of the thick, fragrant tube and then she replaced it in the box. Box after box she went through. “Too much Cameroon in the wrapper” she said of one. “Sweet, but not enough body” she said of another. She sighed deeply after twelve or thirteen boxes. “Well, darling, I know these are your favorites, but I don’t think you’re showing me everything. Come on, I won’t tell a soul your secret.” She licked her lips, ” I’m thirsty from all this, have you any Cointreau? I could use a sip to cleanse my palette. And then,” she leaned forward and whispered huskily;” I want you to show me your very personal favorite.” She sat back, adjusted her skirt, sliding her fingers across the fabric seductively. He fished the key to the liquor cabinet from the pocket of his jeans.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’ kept running over in his head. He would owe the boss big for this one. He poured a crystal cordial full of the aromatic aperitif, placed on a silver tray and walked it over to her. She grasped the stem of the glass deftly, tipped it to her lips and drew deeply from it. She ran her tongue over the corner of her mouth, sucking in an errant drop with great relish. “All right now, Ken. Show me what you like, what your favorite is. I’m ready. Don’t be shy; I’m an experienced smoker. You won’t put me off.”
He cleared the table of all the discarded selections, filled her glass again and pulled an unopened box from the bottom shelf of the cart. He laid the box of Perdomo Reserve X Maduro’s in the center of the table. “Mmmmmmm, aaaahhhhh. I knew I’d get your best out of you,” she purred. “So,” she demanded, “open the box and choose one for me.” She held out her right hand, palm up, fingers relaxed, open. Her wrist exposed. He swore he could see her heart beating beneath the silky, translucent skin. He gently lifted the edge of the seal on the box, being careful not to tear the paper as he went. ” Excellent, darling,” she murmured. “I love a man who takes care, who can hold himself back. Who knows his own strength.” He opened the box, held it up for her, she grasped her hands over his, pulled the box to her face and inhaled deeply. Her eyes closed as she breathed in the aroma, and he saw her eyelids flutter and her eyes roll back in delight. She gave him back the box, sat and waited. He looked at the dark brown cylinders all in a row, ran his fingers over them all and chose one. He turned the cigar closed end toward her and presented it. She reached for it, turning it in her fingers, gauging its girth. “Mmm, looks to be a fifty two, no, a fifty four band; and what, seven inches? Lovely, just lovely.” She continued to roll it between thumb and forefinger, listening to the interior tobacco. “Moistly crisp, very fresh. Yes, this is the one.” She paused, looking at him with her large, hazel eyes, waiting. For a second he wasn’t sure what she wanted, then he knew. He handed her an exquisitely ornate gold plated cutter. She held the tube in her fingertips and slowly, sensually placed the tip of it in her mouth, rolling it between her moist lips, savouring the first flavor of the cigar. She pulled it from her now deeply reddened lips and swiftly, efficiently nipped the tip off at the top of the shoulder. Perfect. She smiled and held the smoke casually between forefinger and middle finger. “Are you going to join me?” she asked. “Or,” her eyes twinkled gleefully, “perhaps you’d just like to watch me smoke.” Nonchalantly, she picked up her glass, dipped the cut end in the Cointreau, swirled it around for a second and then tapped it briskly on the edge of the glass. His mind swimming at what he was witnessing, he felt his erection stirring in the confines of his jeans. Without thinking, he reached for the silver lighter on the table, held it in both hands and lit it. With one hand, she reached and steadied his, and with the other, she rotated the long, fat tube just over the flame, slowly allowing the tobacco to warm and then catch. She released the hand holding the lighter, reached down to the bulge in his crotch, squeezed it, caressed it gently. “So you’d rather watch, eh? I think you’d better do something about that first,” indicating his erection,” I can’t imagine you’ll enjoy yourself all bound up like that.” She purred low in her throat, lifted the cigar to her lips, inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, and giving his cock another squeeze, blew the thick chocolate flavoured smoke just past his face. “You want to watch me smoke?” she leaned in and murmured in his ear. “Then you have to let me watch you. Show me. Show me how much you like to watch me smoke.” This time she inhaled again, slowly rolling the fat cylinder between her wet lips, caressing it, and blew the smoke in his face. “It’s only fair, don’t you think?” She placed the cigar in the cradle of the ashtray, reached down, parted her legs just slightly, slid the smooth fabric of her skirt high up on her thighs, the smooth skin of her sex just visible beneath the folds. She enticingly unbuttoned her blouse to her navel, picked up the cigar and the glass, leaned back in the club chair, and began to smoke once more. She drew slowly, savouring each inhalation, eyes fastened on his. “Well?” she demanded softly. “Show me.” Hands shaking, he unzipped his jeans, reached into his fly, and carefully unfolded his now rock hard penis, releasing it. His breathing was heavy, ragged. Should he do as she asked him? Is that really what she wants? His need was so great, he couldn’t turn back now, he had to stroke himself, he needed relief. He looked over at her, this vixen, this wanton, legs open for him alone to view, lips locked around a long, thick cylinder of tobacco and he moaned. “That’s it, darling. Mmm, I love the chocolate flavour of this mixed with the orange of the Cointreau. It warms me all the way down to here,” she ran her fingertips from a barely exposed nipple down her belly, over her mound, and under the fabric of the skirt. She shifted her position in the chair slightly, her ass poised on the edge of the cushion, legs spread further to give him a clear view. She drew deeply on the stogie, blew a perfect smoke ring and as she did, slid her fingers up and down the pink lips of her sex. This was more than he could take, and he looked down to see his fist moving involuntarily up and down his shaft, smoothly stroking himself towards orgasm. He moaned deep in the back of his throat and she smiled broadly, blissfully, fingers working against her now protruding, erect clitoris. ” I love wrapping my lips around a big stick,” she growled. “Nothing tastes sweeter in my mouth than a thick, smooth smoke.” She laid her head back against dark leather of the club chair, stogie shoved in her mouth, held there with her teeth. Both her hands were free now and she worked furiously on her mound and with the other she pinched and pulled at her deep pink-red nipples. She smiled as she bit down on the ever-shrinking cigar, drawing in and blowing out with a slow moan at the beginning of each exhalation. She took the over half-smoked butt from her mouth and growled. ” You have to wait for me to finish this and;” she reached over and picked up the open box. “Your aim better be good, I like my cigars properly seasoned.” She gently placed wooden box open on his lap. Her hand wrapped around his, tightening, stroking him a bit faster. He looked into her eyes and saw the delight, the hunger, the desire glowing back at him. She leaned in closer, slowed his pace for a moment, and with one long, wet, slow gulp sucked every last inch of his cock into her mouth. She slid up and down the length of the shaft for three strokes and pulled away. He gasped as the head popped out of her mouth; the rim catching lightly on her tightly pursed lips. She sat back in her chair, languorously stroking her now swollen lips with the tip of the cigar, sucking smoke from it steadily, the cylinder growing shorter and shorter as he came dangerously close to climax. He pumped steadily on his now throbbing member, eyes locked by hers, the only sounds in the room being the intake of her breath as she smoked, his tortured moans and her gasps of delight. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking it all in, the sounds, the smell, the feel of his cock jumping in his hand, balls tightening, ready to let loose. He opened them to find her shuddering in the chair across from him, the very stub of the stogie clenched between her teeth. “Oh yes, we’re at the very end, the very last draw.” She rolled her lips around the cigar, fingers sliding in and out of her now soaking pussy, took a breath so deep he thought she could never hold it all in. Her hips began slowly undulating against her hand, and with a long, soft moan, she began to come. Gasping, she whispered, “remember the box, darling. I want to remember you every time I smoke one.” With that, she gave in to the waves of her ecstasy and came mewing and crying. Her the sounds of her capitulation became too much, and he slid his hand once, twice, three times roughly down his shaft, paused and then pumped the tip as fast as he could. He could feel his semen gathering in his testicles and with a roar he let loose with a great spurt of creamy white fluid all over the open box of cigars. Contraction after contraction gripped his body, his sticky delight flowing all over the pungent tubes of tobacco. He stroked and stroked until he had no more to give. He came to himself, spent penis in his hand to find her sitting up, smiling, a fresh stogie in her mouth. She drew a card from her bag, stood up and leaned over him. She placed her personal card in his free hand, bent down to lick the last taste of him from the head of his cock, French kissed him deeply and softly and ruffled his hair. “Thanks so much for helping me. I’ll take five boxes, just put them on my account. “Deliver them and my case to me will you, darling? I’ll be wanting my lighter as soon as possible. Oh and ,” she smiled wickedly. ” I’d love to see more of how you treat that big stick; in private.” She turned, unlocked the door, opened it and without looking back, walked through the store, humming, hips swaying languidly beneath the long black skirt. Now that’s a fine cigar…
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