Smoking out the small bathroom window in an old dressing gown I no longer wore, so the smell wouldn’t get back into my clothes, was a habit I had ma...tered.Of course, when we first met the day I turned eighteen, I had lied straight to my future husband’s face and told him it was my first time smoking, that I was only trying it because my friends had egged me on. Peer pressure, and all that bull. He believed me, and for the first four months of our relationship, I had given up and was. He wanted me, and to show him that I wanted him too I slid my hand across the crotch of his jeans, feeling his growing dick under the fabric. I rubbed him through his pants and he groaned softly, clutching my panties in his hand.“You better watch out or you’ll be taking care of that before we get home.” He warned, an edge of authority in his voice telling me he meant it. I giggled and pulled my hand away as the waiter returned with our drinks. They set down a tall pint glass full of dark amber. More

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