Chapter Text
I was in a trance-like state of shocked fascination as the nude girl who was straddling my lap, a full two-thirds of my cock stuffed into her exceedingly tight pussy, sucked harder and harder on the cigarette which was tucked into the corner of her mouth. Even more shocking, and yet so incredibly beautiful, was the sheer volume and density of smoke which was practically billowing out of the other corner of her small mouth.
I was suddenly snapped out of whatever ‘trance’ I may have been in when the words “…oh yeah…oh yeah…oh yeah…” began repeatedly spilling out of her mouth along with those copious quantities of smoke. Mere seconds after those words broke the near silence, her crystal blue eyes rolled back in her head and her already exceedingly tight pussy felt like its insides reduced in size by half. It hurt like hell, but the pain and fear that the incredible tightness might actually be able to crush my cock was overshadowed by the glorious pleasure I was feeling as a result of the intense rippling of her pussy walls…the likes of I had not only never experienced with any other lover but I couldn’t have even imagined in my wildest dreams.
“Oh wow…” I heard my own voice say, despite the fact that I had thought my lips were closed.
“…Oh yeah, Daddy…” she half groaned a few seconds later; and at the exact instant my hairy balls drew up under my cock.
“Here it comes…” I managed to exclaim through the pleasurable sensation caused by my cum surging up the little tube on the underside of my cock.
“…Oh yeah…do it Daddy…oh yeah…” the girl half moaned / half panted through the cloud of cigarette smoke which was still pouring out of her mouth. A small fraction of a second passed before the first spurt of my hot, thick, sticky, creamy-white, sperm laden cum blasted out of the little hole at the tip of my cock. “So warm inside…” she cooed while caressing her own lower belly right around the area of her young uterus. Five more big spurts of my cum followed the first: all of them spraying deeply into the girl’s belly.
Once my orgasm had subsided I could feel my cock soften slightly, to the point where it was only about eighty percent hard; meanwhile the girl’s pussy had stopped rippling and loosened to its normal exceedingly tight state. The girl took the butt of the now completely smoked cigarette from between her lips and stubbed it out in the chrome Art Deco floor ashtray next to the arm of the sofa; she briefly caressed her lower belly again with her hand before grabbing the bottle of CrystalClear off the TV table to her left. She moved the mouth of the liter bottle up to her lips and took a swig before saying, “You’re gonna need to spray lots more cum in my belly;” while she was taking another cigarette from the bowl of cigarettes which was sitting on the arm of the sofa next to the ashtray.
“I got lots more cum for my little girl, that’s for sure Misty,” I replied.
She put the end of her new cigarette between her lips, flicked the lighter lit and moved its flame to the tip of her cigarette; with a quick inhale she had the cigarette lit. Considering the ease with which she had done that, one would have easily believed she’d been smoking for decades…far longer than she’d been alive. Along with the smoke that billowed out of her mouth came the word, “Good.” She removed the cigarette from her lips briefly and took an ‘air only’ breath before adding, “I’m not a ‘little girl’; I’m a ‘little adult’.”
Knowing what a big deal that distinction was to her, I nodded ‘yes’.
After a few minutes of watching her alternate between smoking her cigarette and taking swigs from the bottle of grain alcohol, my mind began to wander back to how I had met my ‘daughter’.
***
I’ve been a committed two pack-per-day smoker and boarder-line but functioning alcoholic since I was fifteen. While a lot of people, likely the majority of the population, consider addiction to be a bad thing, I rather enjoy it: knowing you are doing something ‘bad’ is fun and on a physical level it feels quite good giving your body the chemicals it has grown dependent upon… Needless to say, I am what one might call ‘pro-smoking’ and ‘pro-drinking’. My only regrets regarding my addictions are that I didn’t start drinking and smoking sooner: I had my first sip of booze when I was ten, and my first cigarette at twelve.
Enjoying my addictions as I do, and not wanting others to have the same regrets as me, I have spent quite a bit of my free time on pro-smoking, pro-drinking, and pro-addiction websites, forums, chats, and the like. I find it very rewarding to encourage those who are interested in smoking and/or drinking to begin their own addictions. Helping those who have started on the path to addictions to build their addictions is just as good. Don’t get me wrong; helping young adults and teenagers with their addictions is great, however I have found that it is vastly more fulfilling helping those who are younger. Over the years I’ve helped a few pre-teenage kids start drinking and/or start smoking; averaged out, it probably works out to one every eighteen months or so.
Anyway, one day I was on a general pro-addiction forum. I noticed a new ‘one post’ thread titled “Please Adopt Me” by someone using the screen-name “little heavy smoker”. The screen-name alone would have been enough to get me to click on the thread, but I’d be lying if I said my own curiosity at the thread’s unique title didn’t have something to do with it too. The initial / opening post mentioned: sex, chain-smoking, drinking lots of alcohol, and being female and six years old; it also claimed a need to be adopted because her mother was going to sell her to a meth dealer… The spelling and grammar were too good for someone so young and there weren’t any of those ‘text speak’ abbreviations; so I concluded this was a woman or possibly a man, but an adult nonetheless, who was doing a bit of ‘role playing’. Sounding like it had the potential to be a fun ‘role play’ scenario, I replied: asking what I’d get out of being her ‘daddy’. After going back and forth a couple messages per day for about a week, I concluded that the person I was talking to probably wasn’t actually an adult, but most likely an older teenager who was just ‘having fun’ with me… Why did I come to that conclusion: the amount of discussion and level of knowledge about sex combined with the particular words used to describe smoking and drinking…it almost certainly wasn’t an adult or even an adult playing at being a kid. Anyway a few days after I came to that conclusion, ‘little heavy smoker’ told me her mother was going to sell her to the meth dealer in a couple days, told me where she lived (the town, not the street or exact address), and asked when I could pick her up because she didn’t want to be sold to the meth dealer.
The town she claimed to be living in, I knew that town: about half of its total economy was based on the flea market that was held there every weekend and the town was in the news every few days because someone had O.D.’d… Obviously it could have been one of those ‘to catch a predator’ setups / stings; but ‘heavy little smoker’ didn’t ask me to bring anything, didn’t give me an address to come to, AND was asking for a permanent change in her living situation as opposed to a party… So, I suggested we meet at the flea market the following day, a Saturday, at 11:00 at the main crossing of the furniture section and asked her name and what she’d be wearing. Moments later I got a reply: “time and location okay, Misty, jeans red shirt pink backpack”
So, on Saturday morning I got up good and early, and headed the twenty miles from my home, the old run-down and overgrown farm I had inherited from my great-aunt when I was nineteen, to the highway before driving the forty miles to the exit nearest to the flea market. Arriving a little before 8:30, I had to do more than a little bit of walking from where I was able to find a parking space to the flea market proper, and then quite a bit more walking to get to the furniture section…but I still got there nearly two hours ahead of time to look for any signs of a sting.
Then, a few minutes before 11:00, I noticed a girl who looked to be lost walk into the main crossing in the furniture section. She was about three-and-a-half feet tall, thin, and had straight-ish dirty blonde hair hanging down to a little below her armpits; she was wearing flip-flops, worn faded blue jeans which looked to be about a size too small for her, a red t-shirt which seemed to have a tear in its hem, and had a very full-looking pink backpack hanging from her left shoulder. This had to be her…
Unfortunately I had lingered too long in one of the tents and found myself being ‘sold’ a 1920’s floor ashtray; while it’s Art Deco chrome-work wasn’t really a stylistic fit with my furniture, it was something I’d actually use and, considering its age, it was almost certain to be very well made. Realizing the opportunity the almost guaranteed up-coming price negotiation provided; I paused, turned to my side and looked down, then I turned to the other side and did the same thing. When the woman who was ‘selling’ asked what I was looking for, I asked if she saw where my daughter went: her uht-oh, “I didn’t notice a girl with you” response was better than I could have hoped for. I told the woman her name was Misty and promptly described what she was wearing. An instant later we both began ‘looking’ for my ‘daughter’. Not more than thirty seconds later the woman ‘found’ Misty (in the middle of the crossing where she had been the whole time) and brought her over to me while telling her that her “daddy was really scared she’d wandered off”. I reminded her that I’d told her not to wander off with a wink. Thankfully Misty seemed to quickly catch on with what was happening, and she said “sorry daddy”. The woman actually offered to sell me the floor ashtray for what had been my initial very low offer and apologized for how our negotiation had nearly cost me my daughter; we closed the deal with a handshake before I paid the woman and she gave me the ashtray.
With that completed, Misty and I began the long walk to where I had parked.
She was decidedly well behaved: calm, quiet, unassuming, etc. while we walked to, and I loaded the antique ashtray into the back of, my old Jeep. Then after I’d closed the back, without any prompting from me, Misty walked over to the passenger door and opened it. She took her pink backpack off and placed it in the foot well before climbing into the old off-road vehicle and hopping up onto the passenger seat. By the time I was fully in the driver’s seat, she had closed the passenger door and was calmly sitting on the front passenger seat: it was as if we had been doing this every day for years…
It wasn’t until I slid the key into the ignition that our lack of a relationship and Misty’s unusualness began to show as she asked two back-to-back questions in a single breath, “It’s my choice if I wear a seatbelt, right? You got any cigarettes?”
‘Wow…’ was all I could think as I turned the key and started the old Jeep. Since my Jeep was as old as it was it only had lap-belts; which meant nobody who glanced in through the window wouldn’t be able to tell if she was wearing a seatbelt or not: so I began replying, “You don’t have to wear a seatbelt if you don’t want to, but if you don’t wear it, hang on…”
“Good…” she interrupted as I disengaged the parking break, “…’cause I like bouncing around in cars…”