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Life After Aunt Carol
Author: Kool Guy	July 1, 2001 at 02:09:18

	It didn't seem possible that life could go on for me with Aunt Carol gone. But, somehow, I found the strength to go on :-) -------------------------------------------------------------- Life After Aunt Carol Aunt Carol was gone. I was depressed. The only thing that made me happy was knowing that my lungs were now worse than they had ever been. My goal was to make sure they never got any better. My summer with Aunt Carol had inspired me to smoke more than I ever had. I was now easily smoking three packs of Winstons per day. I was determined to keep up that pace throughout the new school year. I was about to enter the eighth grade. I was thirteen but I felt like I had the lungs of a 75 year old man. I had no stamina. I could no longer participate in sports. I couldn’t even climb stairs without becoming winded. My coughing spells were becoming longer and more frequent. I wheezed when I breathed. My chest hurt when I woke up in the morning. It was everything I ever wanted. I should have been happy, but I couldn’t stop thinking of Aunt Carol. I would have to focus all of my energy on ruining my lungs. There would be no more distractions. I wanted lung cancer more than ever. Maybe that would make me stop thinking about Aunt Carol. The summer of 1967 was nearly over. It was the first day of school. I was not looking forward to school. It would only cut into my smoking time. How could I maintain my three pack-a- day habit while going to school full time? It would definitely be a challenge. I had been thinking about it for some time. I would smoke as many cigarettes as possible on my way to school each day and on my way home. I would smoke between classes in the restrooms. I would go outside during lunch hour and chain- smoke. I would smoke all night in my bedroom as soon as I got home from school. Somehow, I would do it. I got up early, drank some flat, warm Coke from a can which had sat open all night, skipped breakfast, and left my house. I breathed the cool morning air deep into my lungs and started coughing. My lungs were in such a pathetic state they could not handle the sudden rush of fresh air. They were not used to it. They needed Winston smoke. They needed a lot of it. I pulled my Winstons out of my shirt pocket and lit one up. I inhaled deeply and held the smoke in my lungs. I inhaled two more deep drags without exhaling. My lungs finally started to feel normal. I could no longer smell the fresh air. I inhaled drag after drag of fresh Winston smoke deep into my lungs. Walking slowly, I chain-smoked eight Winstons on the way from my house to the bus stop. I lit up my ninth just as I saw the bus coming. I triple- pumped my Winston, inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs, and gently stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of my shoe. Not wanting to waste a nearly whole cigarette, I put the partially smoked Winston back into my pack. I would smoke it later. The filter was already a beautiful brown from the few deep drags I had taken. I felt a rush as I realized my lungs were a much deeper brown. With my Winston smoke held deep in my lungs and a boner forming in my pants, I stepped onto the school bus. I immediately noticed a familiar aroma. Even with my diminished sense of smell, and even with the nicotine from my morning Winstons still hot in my throat and nostrils, I could tell someone was smoking on the bus. I started looking at the windows on the bus as I walked slowly to the back. I saw one window cracked open about an inch. There as a pretty girl with long, brown, straight hair sitting next to it. Sure enough, I saw a curl of smoke coming up from her seat and going out the opening in the window. I sat directly across the aisle from her. The girl looked at me as the bus took off. She was wearing a black leather jacket, unzipped. It wasn’t cool enough to be wearing a jacket, but it sure looked good on her. I could now see that she had a lit cigarette cupped in her hand. It was a cork filter, but I couldn't tell the brand. I was, of course, immediately interested. The girl leaned her head down below the back of the seat in front of her and took a long drag from her cigarette. I watched the tip of her cigarette glow a bright orange as her cheeks indented deeply. She inhaled so deeply I could see her chest expand. It was a beautiful chest. She held the smoke in her lungs for a long time before exhaling toward the window opening. I knew an erection was going to be unavoidable. She looked at me and said, "You're not going to tell on me, are you?" I smiled, pulled my Winstons out of my shirt pocket, and said, "Not if you don't tell on me," To my amazement, she laughed and said, "Sit over here. You can help hide my smoke." I moved across the aisle and sat down next to her. As I got closer, I could see that she was truly beautiful. Her skin was soft and clear, with a slightly pale complexion. Her hair was long and silky. She had full lips and a pointed, slightly turned-up nose. She wasn't overweight and she wasn't skinny. She was what I would describe as "just right". She took a final, double-pump from her cigarette and flicked the butt through the open window. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of Kools. I could see at least two more unopened packs of Kools in her purse. I had noticed a lot of girls smoking Kools the previous school year. But, because I had been so into my Winstons, I had never bothered to try them. Winston and Kool were the two most popular cigarettes of the day. Probably half of the kids who smoked were Winston smokers. I guessed that another thirty- five to forty percent smoked Kools. The rest smoked various brands, including Camel Regulars and Pall Malls, which were still very popular among teenagers in the late sixties. Marlboros had not yet hit it really big, although I do remember a couple of girls who smoked Marlboro Reds at that time. "Hi," I said. "My name's Chris." Before she could answer, she flicked her lighter, lit up, and took three deep drags in succession from her Kool. She held the smoke deep in her lungs for a good twenty to thirty seconds before exhaling. "Ahhhh, I needed that," she said, talking smoke out of her mouth as she spoke. "Sorry, my name's Kathy. I just can't get going until I've had four or five Kools in the morning. They wake my lungs up." "I know what you mean," I said as I lit up a Winston. "I feel the same way about my Winstons." Nothing was more erotic to me than hearing a girl talk about her own lungs. "Try to keep your cigarette down low, so the bus driver can't see it in his mirror," she said. "And be sure to blow your smoke toward the open window." "OK," I said. "You sound pretty experienced." "I’ve been smoking on school buses for a couple of years," she said. "The bus driver won't say anything as long as you don't make it too obvious." I could hardly believe what was happening. This girl seemed almost too good to be true and she had asked me to sit next to her. I said, "Is that Cathy with a 'C' or Kathy with a 'K'?" "With a 'K'," she said. "'K' like in Kool," I said. She giggled and said, "That's me, Kathy Kool." “Are you new here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you before.” God knows, I would have remembered Kathy if I had seen her before. “Yes,” she said, inhaling a deep lungful of Kool smoke. “We moved here over the summer, from Ohio. My father got transferred here.” “Was it hard leaving your friends?” I asked. “I guess so,” she said. “But, I’m sure I’ll make new friends.” She smiled at me as she took a long, cheek-hollowing drag from her menthol-freshened cigarette. I quickly finished my Winston, felt bold, and said, "Would you mind if I tried one of your Kools? I've never tried them." She said, "Here, take a drag of mine first. Then, in case you don't like it, you won't have to smoke the whole thing. Some people find them too strong." I felt as if I must be dreaming. I took the Kool from Kathy's hand and placed the filter between my lips. It was moist from her lips. I took a long cheek-hollowing drag and inhaled deeply. The cool menthol felt good as it hit the back of my throat. I felt a cool sensation deep in my lungs as I inhaled. The smoke was not harsh. I felt as if I could inhale more. I took a second drag and inhaled that into my lungs as well. As I inhaled my third drag from Kathy's Kool, without exhaling, Kathy raised her eyebrows and said, "You must have some serious smoker's lungs if you can take in that much smoke." The erection, which I had previously thought might be unavoidable, was now intense, throbbing, and ready to burst. I offered Kathy her cigarette back, but she laughed and said, “Finish it. You look like you’re enjoying it.” I was enjoying it more than she knew. “I don’t know why I’ve never tried Kools before,” I said. “I’ve seen plenty of kids smoking them at school. These are really good.” I meant it, too. The cool feeling of menthol in my throat and lungs was exhilarating. “I love ‘em,” Kathy said. “They make my lungs feel warm and frosty at the same time.” She extracted a fresh Kool from the open pack in her purse and lit it up. I could not believe the erection I was trying to suppress. It was so arousing to hear a girl talking about her own lungs. Warm and frosty--what a wonderful way to describe one’s lungs. I said, “How long have you been smoking?” “I started when I was eight,” she said. “Wow!” I said, truly envious that she had started so young. “I didn’t start until I was ten. Have you always smoked Kools?” “No,” she said as she double-pumped her cigarette. “The first time I tried smoking, I stole some of my father’s Viceroys. My girlfriends and I wanted to try smoking and I knew he would never notice, so I took a pack. They were OK. Later I tried lots of different brands. My girlfriends and I would smoke whatever we could get. I’ve smoked Winstons, Marlboros, you name it. I’ve even smoked Pall Malls and Camels.” “I’ve tried Pall Malls,” I said. “They’re really strong. I like them, but I like having a filter.” Kathy took a long drag from her Kool and said, “Me too. I like the feel of the filter in my mouth. And, I don’t know why, but I like to watch the filter turn from pure white to dark brown. It gives me a kind of thrill. I hope that doesn’t sound too sick.” She giggled as she inhaled more Kool smoke deep into her lungs. I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you kidding? I love that myself,” I said, amazed that I was talking to a girl my own age who seemed to love smoking as much as I did. “So, how did you start smoking Kools?” I took another drag and filled my lungs with fresh mentholated smoke. “One day, a couple of years ago, one of my girlfriends had a pack of Kools. I had never tried menthols before. I tried one and I couldn’t believe the rush I felt. They’re strong, but they feel so good in my lungs. I feel like I could hold the smoke in forever. Needless to say, I have been hooked on Kools ever since.” I had such an erection, I could hardly stand it. I thought I was going to ejaculate in my pants. “I can see why,” I said, taking another drag from the cigarette that had been in Kathy’s mouth. “I feel like I can inhale more smoke than I can with my Winstons.” “Exactly,” said Kathy. “I think the menthol kind of numbs your throat and lungs so you don’t feel any irritation. I could just chain-smoke these babies all day.” She took another long drag and inhaled deeply. “Just how much do you smoke?” I asked as I triple-pumped the rest of the Kool and flicked the butt through the crack in the bus window. “Usually between three and four packs a day,” she said as she took another cheek-hollowing drag. “My God!” I said. “That’s incredible.” I hoped Kathy wouldn’t notice the wet spot which was forming in my pants. I felt humbled. I had been so proud of the fact that I had done so much damage to my lungs at such a young age. I didn’t think that anyone my age could have more lung damage than I did. But Kathy had started smoking at an earlier age and smoked more cigarettes per day than I did. Her lungs must be in even worse shape than mine. “I wish I could smoke that much. Do your parents let you smoke?” “Yes,” she said. “When they first found out I smoked, they were pretty mad. They grounded me and tried to keep me from smoking. But, every time I left the house, I got cigarettes from my girlfriends. I started sneaking out of the house at every opportunity. My parents finally decided to give in. They said they would rather have me smoke in front of them than sneak around behind their backs to smoke. That was about two years ago. I smoke all I want to now.” “You are so lucky,” I said. My dick was ready to explode. I shook a Winston loose from the pack in my shirt pocket, lit up, and inhaled deeply. I inhaled three deep drags in rapid succession and held the smoke in my lungs. I could still taste the menthol from the Kool I had just smoked. “Do you smoke as soon as you wake up in the morning?” “Oh my God, yes!” she said. “Before I can even get out of bed I have to smoke a couple of Kools.” My dick was rock hard. “I do that, too,” I said. “I usually have a big coughing spell, but it doesn’t stop me from smoking.” Kathy inhaled smoke deep into her lungs and said, “Ah yes, my morning coughing spell. I’m so used to it now, it doesn’t even bother me.” Could this girl be any more perfect, I wondered. She said, “I find that if I just stay motionless in bed, and smoke two or three cigarettes, my coughing doesn’t last as long. But, if I get up and start doing stuff right away, I will sometimes cough for thirty or forty minutes.” I triple-pumped my Winston. This girl was incredible. “I know this might sound weird,” she said. “But, I kind of look forward to my morning coughing spells. They make me want to smoke more.” Kathy was a goddess. That is the only word that could accurately describe her. She finished off her cigarette, flicked it through the window, and reached into her purse for another. I was in awe. She placed a fresh Kool between her lips, lit it, and inhaled smoke deep into her beautiful lungs. “it’s funny,” she said. “I used to hear my mother coughing in the morning and I thought it would be terrible to be like her. Now, I’m just like her. And, in a funny way, it makes me feel good. It makes me feel closer to her.” “So, your mother’s a smoker, too?” I asked. “Yes, that’s why she finally gave in and let me smoke. Both my parents smoke. They couldn’t be hypocrites and tell me I couldn’t smoke.” “What brand does your mother smoke?” I asked. “She used to smoke Chesterfield Kings,” she said. “She would always say she hated smoking through a filter because she couldn’t get enough smoke. But, every now and then, when she was out of cigarettes, she would bum one of my Kools. She was amazed at how strong they were for a filter cigarette. And, like me, she loved the feeling of the menthol in her throat and lungs. Eventually, she got to like them so much, she switched to them permanently.” “Your mother came up to Kool, so to speak,” I said. “Yeah,” she laughed. “She came all the way up.” “That sounds wonderful.” I had an instant mental image of mother and daughter chain-smoking Kools all day while chatting and watching soap operas. It made me jealous. I was in love with Kathy’s mother and I had never met her. Of course, I suddenly realized I was even more in love with Kathy. Was it possible? “It’s really great for me,” said Kathy. “There are always cartons of Kools in the house. I will never be in danger of running out of cigarettes.” She closed her eyes as she took another long cheek- hollowing drag from her Kool. She appeared to be in love with her cigarettes. “Do you do any kind of sports or physical activity?” I asked with anticipation. “Oh, God!” She started laughing. A burst of smoke shot out of her lungs with each laugh. “Are you kidding? With my lungs? I get out of breath so fast. I hate it when we have to run or play sports in gym class. I’d rather sneak into the girls’ bathroom and smoke a few Kools. Sometimes I do just that. I’ve been suspended from school a few times for smoking.” She grinned a big grin and I noticed her teeth were slightly yellowed. Then I watched as she placed the filter of her Kool between her beautiful lips and began to suck. I had a tremendous urge to reach into my pants and jerk myself off right on the spot. I resisted and squirmed in my seat. “Don’t you hate stairs?” I asked. She had to finish her cheek-hollowing drag before she could answer. “Stairs are the worst,” she said. “More than one flight and I’m panting. More than two flights and I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. God, I sound like an old lady, don’t I.” She again raised her Kool to her lips and filled her lungs with menthol freshness. “I know exactly how you feel,” I said. “I feel like an old man and I’m only thirteen. I used to play a lot of sports, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t even imagine how I’ll feel when I’m sixty.” Kathy held her cigarette up, looked at the cigarette between my fingers, looked me in the eye, and said, “Honey, I don’t think either one of us will ever have to worry about turning sixty.” She closed her eyes, took another long cheek-hollowing drag, inhaled the smoke deep into her beautiful, sexy lungs and held it. I felt a cramping sensation and had to bend over slightly. With the tops of my thighs I pressed my hard penis up tight against my abdomen. I kept pressing until the urge to ejaculate disappeared. Attempting to change the subject, I asked, “What grade are you in?” I was hoping for the right answer. “Eighth,” she said. “Me too!” I said. “Maybe we have some classes together. Do you have your schedule?” We compared schedules and discovered we were in two classes together. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What had started out as one of the worst days of my life was suddenly turning into one of the best. Kathy and I chain-smoked and talked all the way to school. I decided I was going to buy some Kools at the first opportunity. I had a feeling they were going to become my regular brand. I was going to become a Kool guy. I did my best to make my erection subside before I had to stand up and get off the bus. Suddenly I was really looking forward to eighth grade. (to be continued)
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