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The match flared off the heel of his boot with a sparking hiss. The initial combustion calmed and he held the steady flame to his cigarette tip. The still night air carried the soft sizzle of tobacco burning. He took a hard pull, the tip glowing orange in the dark, and, satisfied, waved away the burning match before it could scorch his fingers.

Derek bought the special “strike anywhere” matches with the phosphorous heads down in Mexico, or so he claimed. He was a theatre kid, so he had a flair for the dramatic. It didn’t impress me as much as he probably wondered it did, but that was ok. I found the goofy camp of him playing cowboy with every smoke kinda cute.

He bent down, cigarette in mouth. His eyes were closed as he absorbed the first hit of nicotine. I leant in, having to go on tippy-toes to reach even though he wasn’t tall, our cigarette tips touching. I observed his face, the soft peach fuzz that he called a beard and his thick, golden lashes. My tip took and I leant back, taking an appreciative suck. Warm smoke, which I had once found burning, filled my lungs. I let out a cloud into the night air.

“Ahhhhh,” I said appreciatively, feeling the craving fall away as the nicotine kicked in.

“Mmmm,” he agreed, smoke billowing out of his nostrils like puff the dragon.

In the silence that followed, aside from the muffled bar noises behind us, I reflected on our smoke breaks.

Derek had actually gone to the same high college as me, but we’d never crossed paths until school. He’d been part of the drama club, and I’d been in the cheerleading squad. Even in school, the only thing we had in common was we were both smokers. Somehow, we’d ended up in the same friend group, and so here we were, sharing our smoke breaks together every night out.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting,” Derek said, breaking me out of my contemplation.

“Hwah?” I said. I was a surprised by how sad that made me.

“Well, the both of us really,” he said, taking another drag. “It isn’t exactly healthy. I’m twenty now, but what are my lungs going to be like at forty?”

“Oh… Yeah,” I said, with plastic cheerfulness. “I guess so.”

“Not ending these breaks, y’know,” he said hurriedly. “We could meet up here, and like… keep each other honest.”

Relief flooded back over me when I realized our time alone wasn’t over. “Yeah,” I said, aware that my voice was now way to loud. “That sounds great.”

He offered me the back of his hand cupping his cigarette. We tapped hands like clinking a glass. “Last cigarette,” he said, and then sucked on it like he was trying to drink the tar through a straw.

—

The next night out we excused ourselves and reconvened on the street outside the bar. A rain had washed through, eliciting smells of tar and asphalt and giving the hum of passing traffic a wet quality. The night lights reflected off the damp tarmac. I took in a shuddering breath of the cool night air and tried quell the craving, now aggravated by the familiar scenery. A crowd further down the road was smoking and I felt the urge to go breath in their smoke.

“So how’s the quitting been going?” he asked.

“It’s been going,” I responded. “I keep feeling the impulse to bash people’s heads in, but I haven’t yet.”

“Isn’t that just you normally?” he asked.

I smiled. I had a bit of a fiery streak, it was true, but I was five foot nothing, so more of an enraged teddy bear than anything. “I just wish people would stop being so damn stupid,” I said.

“I guess so,” Derek said. “Including not being honest about why they keep having smoke breaks.”

“Huh?” I said.

Derek was blushing, his white cheeks a pleasing pink. “I, uh, really only took smoke breaks so I could spend time with you.”

Oh my god. Was this really happening? Was I wearing matching underwear? I couldn’t remember what I’d put on before going out anymore. The blush was contagious.

I wasn’t prepared for this. This is what I got for being raised by a conservative Filipina grandma. My Lola never got to the birds and the bees part of my education.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you,” Derek said. I realized to my horror that I had been silent the whole time, lost in my runaway train of wondered.

“No! No,” I said. “I’m… happy.”

“Really,” Derek said. “Well, if so, my apartment in just a block away from here…”

It really was happening. I kept a thousand yard stare on a distant car, and just nodded, not trusting myself to talk. He lead me to his apartment block, up some stairs, and into his bedroom.

—

He excused himself to the toilet, and I sat on the foot of the bed, caught between nerves and excitement. I was trembling with anxiety, until I had an epiphany. He was probably feeling just as nervous about this, and everything could go at my pace if I wanted it to. I was in charge of my body.

Derek came back into the room, sheepish and reserved. I lounged on his bed.

“Hey, uhh… So how do you want to do this.”

“Down boy,” I said, feeling a foreign confidence swell in my chest.

Reflexively, he kneeled at the end of the bed.

“Good boy,” I crooned, rubbing his head with the sole of my foot. A deep blush spread across his face. Arousal, or embarrassment? I didn’t care.

“Strip,” I commanded, and he obeyed. He pulled his shirt off first, revealing a slim and hairless torso, a slight six pack showing on his stomach. He unbuckled his belt and shuffled out of his jeans and stood in his tighty whiteys, skinny legs goosebumping in the open air. I rubbed his crotch with my foot this time.

“Good boy,” I said again.

He buckled at the hips, his penis inflating beneath my touch. He definitely liked that. I rubbed it a bit more, until his underwear was wet with pre-cum, then stopped. He looked at me like a kicked dog. I wriggle out of my pants and underwear.

“Lick,” I ordered. He dove forward, tongue instantly alighting on my clit. A jolt of electricity ran down my spine and I arched my back, pressing my wet lips into his face. He continued to attack, worshiping at the altar of my body. I gripped his fluffy hair, waves of pleasure flowing over me. His tongue agilely worked across my whole pussy, feeling out every part of it. Finally, the pleasure climaxed and I felt a trickle of discharge flow freely from my vagina. He lapped it up and kept going, unwilling to stop, and I was unwilling to stop him. He continued until I came a second time, faster than the first, and I was finally ready to let him in. I pushed his head away from my pussy. His tighty whiteys were soaked and struggling to hold back his boner.

“Condom,” I demanded, and he rushed to discover one in his drawer. He tore it from it foil packet and fought to extract his penis from his underwear. I shuffled over and yanked them down, his cock bouncing. A fat bead of pre-cum sat on his glans. I gripped the shaft and whisked away the bead with my thumb. He shuddered in pleasure and almost fell to his knees. I continued, unrelenting, my thumb brushing over the sensitive head, never enough to make him come but driving him insane from the sensation. I didn’t until he started begging for me to let him cum. Only then did I take the condom from his hand and ensure it was on properly before lying back on the bed and offering him my soaking wet pussy. He almost fell over himself getting onto the bed with me, and his dick slid in with no resistance. My hymen had broken long ago from sports, and I had used a few dildos before, but I still gasped from the ease with which he entered me and the pleasure it brought me. Nothing I’d done before compared to the heat of his rod inside me, and his body on mine. He started to move, and I moved back. We kissed, and in that moment even the sex seemed to fall away, and it was just two souls colliding. The kiss ended and I came a third time, some sort of psychological climax reached. He continued to thrust, his breaths getting louder and louder. He panted, hot breath against my neck. I clung to him, feeling the slight muscle sliding beneath his skin. Our groins were joined, the heat melding us together. I closed my eyes and drank in the sensation. His body tensed, and I knew he was cumming now. He managed two more jerky thrust before he just planted his pubic bone against mine, the latex condom expanding inside me as he pumped hot, sticky cum in a desperate attempt to impregnate me.

And then it was over, his deflating penis sliding out of me, a fat bubble of cum trapped in the latex. He rolled over to lay by my side, his chest heaving for breath. We exchanged a look, and kissed tenderly.

“We’re dating now,” I said, and he nodded, lost in a daze of happiness.

—

We slunk back into the party after a quick shower together that only involved a bit of kissing. We rejoined the group, trying to act like nothing had happened.

My friend Elise smiled at me when I sat down beside her. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “So how was the sex?” she said.

I almost choked on my drink. “What?” I said, “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “You and Derek.”

I checked no one else was listening in. “Good,” I admitted quietly.

“You’re a good pair,” she said. “I’m happy for you.”

“What about you?” I asked, desperate to deflect away from myself. “Have you found a boyfriend yet?”

“Long distance, remember,” she said, sipping at her drink. She was a blonde bombshell. I had no doubt she could have any man in the bar, but her eyes were elsewhere.

“Yeah, but…” I said. “Those things never last.”

She smiled wistfully. “This one will.” She raised her glass. “To our relationships.”

I clinked the glass with mine, and we drank the night away.

NSFW: yes

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