Smoking Stories

This story was submitted on February 26th 2026 by a visitor who whishes to remain anonymous (same author as You’re missing out and Revenge: a dish best served with smoke stories). This is a follow up to part 1 of “Rewired”. If you have a story to submit it’s right here !

• Rewired (part 1)

The next two days are agony. Without the cigarettes, her body feels hollowed out, restless. Her thoughts loop endlessly on the sensations: the icy burn of the menthol hitting her throat, the exquisite pressure of held smoke expanding her ribs, the way her climaxes seemed to erupt from the nicotine deep within her core. She tries masturbating alone, fingers frantic against her clit. The friction sparks a dull ache, a ghost of release that sputters unsatisfied, leaving her trembling and furious. It’s like trying to start a fire with wet wood. She feels cheated and incomplete. Desperate, she pulls up the smoking videos again. The high-definition images flood the screen—the languid curls of smoke, the deliberate drags, the ecstasy twisting the performers’ faces. Her breath hitches. Her pulse pounds in her wrists, her throat, and between her legs. The arousal is immediate, visceral, and a floodgate opening. Her fingers slide down instinctively, circling faster. The video helps. The visual connection, the sheer ownership of pleasure displayed, pulls her closer. But it also sharpens the craving into a knife’s edge. Every deep inhale on screen makes her own lungs ache for the menthol sting. Every plume of exhaled smoke is a taunt. The arousal builds, thick and urgent, but it’s tangled with a desperate, gnawing hunger for the cigarette itself. The pleasure is inseparable from the poison.

She reaches a shuddering peak watching a woman hold her breath for an impossibly long count, her body trembling with suppressed need before release. Maya gasps, hips lifting off the chair, fingers working furiously. It’s good. Sharp. Satisfying. But as the aftershocks fade, a hollow ache blooms in her chest where the nicotine burn should be. The orgasm feels incomplete, a firework muffled. The screen glows, the woman now lighting another cigarette with a knowing smile. Maya slams the laptop shut. The silence is suffocating. The phantom itch crawls up her throat again, relentless. Her fingers find her phone before she consciously decides. Scrolling past Jess’s name—judgment, worry—she stops at “Sheri.” Sheri, who laughed loud at parties, whose strawberry-blonde hair caught the light, who always had a pack of Virginia Slim 120 menthols tucked beside her phone in her tiny purse. Sheri, who danced with a liquid grace that made Maya’s breath catch sometimes. Sheri, who might… understand something Jess couldn’t. The memory of Sheri leaning against a bar months ago, taking a long drag, her blue eyes half-lidded, smoke curling from her lips like a secret, sends a jolt through Maya’s core. Different than Leo’s predatory gaze. Something warmer. More… shared.

“Hey stranger,” Sheri’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and effortless. “Long time, no smoke signals.”

Maya freezes hearing the word smoke. “Hey? Maya says, “Sorry, I was wondering what you were doing tonight?

Sheri laughs, a warm, bubbling sound. “No specific plans. Was probably goanna hit up Velvet Hour later, see what’s shaking.”

A pause, then curiosity sharpens her tone. “You sound… wired. Wanna come? Could use my partner in crime.

Maya grips her phone tighter, knuckles whitening. Relief floods her, thick and dizzying. “That… would be great.” The words tumble out too fast.

Sheri’s laugh softens into concern. “Okay, spill. What is going on? You sound… different. Tense.” Maya says disheartened

“I broke up with Leo.” Sheri says

“I personally thought the guy was an ass.” “Let’s talk tonight be over around 8.”

Sheri’s beat-up Honda Civic pulled up at 8:05 sharp, its headlights slicing through the humid twilight. Maya practically leapt off the curb, scrambling into the passenger seat before Sheri could fully stop. The door slammed shut, sealing them in the scent of old leather and faint perfume. Sheri glanced over, strawberry-blonde hair catching the streetlight. “Damn, girl,” she grinned, shifting gears.”You look good. Like… alive.”

Maya managed a shaky smile, fingers twisting in her lap. The compliment felt like a lifeline. Velvet Hour pulsed with bass by the time they pushed through the heavy doors at nine. Neon lights washed overcrowded tables as they squeezed up to the bar. Maya ordered vodka soda; Sheri got a whiskey sour. They clinked glasses, shouting over thumping house music about Karen’s disastrous Tinder date and Jake’s promotion. Maya laughed too loud, too fast, her drink vanishing quicker than Sheri’s.

When Sheri signaled the bartender for round two, Maya nodded eagerly, the ice in her empty glass rattling like loose change. “Air’s thick in here,” Sheri shouted over a synth drop, swirling her fresh whiskey sour. She tapped the slim turquoise pack, peeking from her tiny purse. “Patio? I need a smoke.”Maya’s “Okay!” burst out sharp and eager, her cheeks flushing instantly.

Sheri’s eyebrow arched, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she led the way through the throng. Outside, city heat wrapped around them like damp velvet. Distant sirens wailed beneath the club’s muffled bass. Sheri leaned against the wrought-iron railing, pulling out a Virginia Slim 120 menthol. The lighter flickered, illuminating her focused expression for a heartbeat before the tip glowed orange. She drew in – a quick, decisive snap inhale – her lips tightening briefly around the filter. Maya watched, mesmerized, as the smoke vanished into Sheri’s lungs. A familiar, treacherous heat bloomed low in Maya’s belly, dampness spreading instantly. Her breath hitched. Sheri exhaled slowly, a thin stream escaping her lips like a sigh. Her blue eyes tracked Maya’s fixed gaze. Not judgment. Curiosity. A knowing tilt to her head. She tapped ash into a nearby urn. “Maya,” she said, her voice suddenly clear in the relative quiet of the patio, cutting through the city hum. “Would you like a cigarette?” A pause, deliberate. Her gaze sharpened. “You’re staring.”

Maya looks at her with a tear in her eye. “I don’t want to, but I want one.” Sheri says, “What is going on girl” Maya breaks down and tells her how Leo forced her to smoke and forced her to inhale during her orgasm. How the feeling was like nothing she had ever had. How she left his place and stopped at the store and bought a pack of cigarettes. How she went home and masturbated while she smoked. How she broke up with him for doing it to her. She tells her about looking up smoking fetish and watching women smoke and masturbate. She says he rewired me. I haven’t had a cigarette in 3 days. All i can think about is smoking and masturbating the feeling. Sheri looks at her and says. “He didn’t rewire you. You were always wired this way.” “He just flipped a switch.” “You have always had a smoking fetish you just never knew it.” “Maya smoke a cigarette.” She hands her the cigarette. Maya stared at the Virginia Slim 120 Sheri offered. It was longer than her Benson & Hedges, impossibly elegant—a slender white wand tipped with gold. Sexy. The word echoed in her foggy mind as she lifted trembling fingers. The filter felt cool against her lips. Sheri’s lighter flicked, the flame casting dancing shadows on their faces. Maya leaned in, her eyes locked on Sheri’s intense blue gaze. She drew a powerful, deliberate drag—menthol blooming icy-clean, flooding her starved lungs. She held it, the smoke, a cool, expanding weight inside her ribs. When she finally exhaled, a smooth, steady stream kissed the humid night air. Relief washed through her, sweet and dizzying. Maya tells her, “I don’t want to be a smoker, but I don’t know if i can resist.” Sheri looks at her, “I wish I could tell you to stop but you look so sexy with that cigarette.” ‘And yes, I have a smoking fetish, and I know exactly what you mean and what it feels like” Maya is in shock. “Really, oh god you don’t know how good that makes me feel, I am not a total freak.” Sheri takes a drag, does another snap inhale and says, “No it means you and i both are total freaks.” Maya asks, “Do you know any other people like us.” She says, “there are a lot of guys, they love women smoking.” “But I only know a few, couple of my friends you don’t know.” “But it is always a girl thing, watching men smoke just isn’t a turn on.” Maya takes a drag of her cigarette and inhales deep and holds it and talks through the exhale, something she has never done. “Ok so it isn’t just me on that.” Sheri looks at her and does another sexy snap inhale. Purposely to get Maya worked up. “Maya says how do you do that?” Sheri says “do what” Maya leans over and says, “make the smoke come out of your mouth and then bring it back in; it is so hot.” Sheri says, “Next time we come out for a cigarette, I will try and teach you.” “It may be hard to do here, so later if you want, we can swing by my house” She takes another drag and does another snap inhale as she puts out her cigarette and gets up to go inside. Maya is left a little stunned. Go to her house, she gets excited at the prospect. They push back through the heavy doors into the thumping heart of Velvet Hour. The music feels louder now, the air thicker, charged with possibility. Sheri weaves through the crowd towards the bar, Maya close behind. Sheri flags down the bartender, ordering another whiskey sour for herself and a fresh vodka soda for Maya. As they wait, leaning against the sticky wood, Sheri turns, her shoulder brushing Maya’s. The neon lights catch the gold flecks in her blue eyes. She takes a breath, her voice dropping, almost lost in the bass but clear enough for Maya to catch every word. “So, Maya,” Sheri starts, fiddling with a cocktail napkin. “I ah, well was wondering if you would be interested in maybe… I don’t know… a little more than just learning how to snap inhale tonight?” Her gaze is direct; a hint of a challenge mixed with vulnerability. Maya feels heat rush to her cheeks, mingling with the vodka buzz. She takes a slow sip, buying a second. The bartender slides Sheri’s whiskey sour toward her. “What do you have in mind?” Maya asks; her voice is steadier than she feels. Sheri leans closer, her breath warm against Maya’s ear. “Listen, I know you know I dated Mark for years. And Kate for a year.” Her fingers brush Maya’s wrist. “You’ve probably heard I’m bi.” She pulls back slightly, searching for Maya’s face. “But you… you dated Leo, Jeff before him. I mean, I have no clue.” A nervous laugh escapes her. “You’re giving me mixed signals tonight. The way you watched me smoke…” Maya says, “Yes,” Sheri says, “Yes to what?” Maya says, “I don’t know if I have never done this before so yes to everything.” “I find you so fucking hot and this smoking thing is driving me nuts; I need another cigarette.” Sheri says, “Let’s get out of her and go to my place; you can smoke in my car and at my place and on me and in me.” She smiles. They push through the heavy doors into the humid night. The city sounds rushing back—honking, distant sirens; the bass thump muffled behind them. Sheri unlocks her Civic with a chirp. Maya slides into the passenger seat, the worn leather smelling faintly of cigarettes and cherry air freshener. Sheri fishes her Virginia Slims from her purse, offering the pack. Maya takes one, fingers brushing Sheri’s. The lighter clicks twice in the dark before flame catches. Maya leans in, cupping Sheri’s hand steadying the flame. She draws deeply, the menthol sharp and clean, flooding her lungs. Relief washes through her instantly. Sheri lights her own cigarette, the ember glowing like a tiny beacon in the dim car. “So,” Maya exhales a plume of smoke, watching it curls towards the cracked window. “I am so nervous. I have never been with a woman before.” Her voice is small in the confined space. Sheri shifts the Civic into gear, pulling away from the curb. She takes a slow, deliberate drag, the orange ember flaring. “It isn’t hard,” she says, smoke whispering out with her words as she navigates the street. “It’s actually easier.” She glances at Maya, her expression soft in the dashboard glow. “You know what you like, right? And I get to find out what that feels like. Vice versa.” She taps ash into the car’s tray. “It isn’t like Leo making you do something you don’t want. It’s more… mutual. We take care of each other.” A small, knowing smile touches her lips. “You’ll see. It can be tender. But it can also be a lot more aggressive. Passionate.” Maya watches Sheri’s profile, the curve of her jaw illuminated by passing streetlights. The menthol cools her nerves, but the promise in Sheri’s words sends a different kind of heat pooling low in her stomach. She takes another drag, mirroring Sheri’s earlier snap inhale – a quick, sharp pull that makes Sheri chuckle softly. “Getting the hang of it already,” Sheri murmurs, turning down a quieter residential street. The Civic rolls to a stop in front of a small, brick duplex. Sheri kills the engine, plunging them into near silence broken only by the tick of cooling metal. “Ready?” Sheri asks, her voice husky. Maya nods, stubbing her cigarette out in the overflowing tray. Sheri does the same, then leans across the console. The scent of whiskey and menthol mingles as her lips brush Maya’s – a soft, tentative pressure that ignites like a spark. Maya gasps, her hand instinctively finding Sheri’s cheek, fingers tangling in strawberry-blonde hair. The kiss deepens, exploratory and hunger, tasting smoke and possibility. Sheri’s tongue traces Maya’s lower lip, and Maya opens for her, a low moan escaping her throat. Sheri pulls back just enough to whisper, “Inside.” They stumble out of the car, fumbling with keys, their hands never leaving each other. Sheri unlocks the front door, pushes it open, and pulls Maya into a dimly lit hallway. The door slams shut behind them. Sheri presses Maya against the cool wood, her body flush against Maya’s, reclaiming her mouth with urgent need. Maya’s hands slide under Sheri’s top, finding warm skin, the curve of her spine. Sheri’s fingers work at the button of Maya’s jeans. Clothes become obstacles – a sweater tugged over Maya’s head, Sheri’s top discarded; jeans kicked aside. They leave a trail of fabric down the short hallway towards the faint glow of a bedroom door. Sheri guides Maya backwards, her kisses trailing down Maya’s neck, her teeth grazing a collarbone as they cross the threshold into the darkened bedroom. Sheri pushes Maya gently onto the edge of the unmade bed. She follows her down, their bodies tangling together on the cool sheets. The kissing slows, deepens, becomes exploratory. Sheri’s hands map Maya’s ribs, her stomach, her thighs, while Maya tangles her fingers in Sheri’s hair, pulling her closer. The scent of their mingled cigarettes still clings to their skin. Sheri shifts, rolling partially onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her free hand traces a slow line from Maya’s temple down her cheek. Her eyes, dark in the low light filtering through the window, searching Maya’s face. She smiles, a soft, knowing curve of her lips. “Maya,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing Maya’s lower lip. “Tell me something.” She pauses, her gaze intense. “Have you ever gotten high before?” Maya looks at her, blinking. “No.” The word comes out quiet, almost a whisper. Sheri traces a slow circle on Maya’s bare hip. “Do you want to?” Her voice is low and intimate. “It’ll make the orgasms… more intense. Deeper. Like the smoke gets under your skin.” She leans closer, her breath warm against Maya’s ear. “Everything feels… amplified.” Maya laughs, a sudden, breathy sound in the quiet room. “Straight to the point, huh?” Their laughter mingles, dissolving the last shreds of Maya’s nervousness. She props herself up on her elbows, meeting Sheri’s gaze. “This is my first week.” Sheri tilts her head, confused. “Huh?” Maya grins, the absurdity hitting her. “The first time I smoked. First time I’ve been with a woman. And now… first time getting high? Let’s do this.” She gestures expansively; her confidence buoyed by the lingering vodka and Sheri’s touch. Sheri chuckles, shaking her head. “Alright, rookie. Buckle up.” She slides off the bed, padding barefoot across the room to a small dresser. From the bottom drawer, she pulls out a sleek, blue glass bong and a small jar filled with green buds. The faint, earthy scent of cannabis drifts towards Maya as Sheri expertly packs the bowl. Sheri lights the bong and pulls for 15 seconds and release the carb and the smoke goes shooting up into her. It turns maya on to think of all that smoke. Sheri leans over and pulls Maya close and kisses her and passes her the smoke. Maya takes it deep pulls back and releases the smoke. There is a lot. Sheri takes another hit and then passes the bong to Maya. Maya is staring at Sheri waiting for her exhale. Sheri knows and she just stares at her, then she starts to slowly release the smoke through her nose then opens her mouth and lets it roll out like a volcano. Maya is so turned on. Sheri shows her how to use the bong and the carb. Maya puts her mouth over the bowl; she is a little buzzed from the hit that was passed to her, but she isn’t sure. She lights the bong pulls for 10 seconds and releases the carb. The smoke hits her and she immediately coughs it out. Trying to catch her breath for a min. Sheri gives her a drink. Sheri says, “Ok again, you know what is coming.” Maya pulls again, 15 seconds release the carb and hits her again. She holds the cough and the smoke for 10 seconds. She looks in the mirror as she releases a massive volume of smoke. She is so turned on. And it hits her. She is High. She says, “Whooooa, I am high,” “this is so wild.” Sheri says, “light a cigarette and inhale deep and hold it.” Maya grabs her cigarette and lights it. She takes a deep drag and holds it. The menthol cuts through the weed haze, sharp and icy, amplifying every nerve ending. She feels the smoke expanding inside her, a cool, heavy pressure that somehow makes her skin tingle; her nipples tighten, the dampness between her thighs intensify. It’s like the nicotine and THC dancing together, pushing her arousal higher, deeper. Her vision swims slightly, colors brighter, the dim room pulsing with a low, electric hum. She watches Sheri light her own Virginia Slim, the flame illuminating her focused expression, the deliberate way she draws the smoke in. Maya holds her breath, feeling the dual high thrum through her veins, making her crave Sheri’s touch with an almost painful urgency. Sheri gently takes the cigarette from Maya’s trembling fingers, stubbing it out. “Lie back,” she murmurs, her voice a low thrum that vibrates in Maya’s bones. Maya sinks back onto the pillows, the world tilting pleasantly. Sheri moves with deliberate grace, kneeling between Maya’s spread legs. The small vibrator hums to life in her hand, a soft, insistent purr. Sheri takes a long, deep drag from her cigarette, the ember flaring bright in the dimness. Maya watches, mesmerized, as Sheri leans forward, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’. She exhales slowly, deliberately, directing a thick, cool stream of menthol smoke directly onto Maya’s exposed, glistening folds. The sensation is electric – the icy smoke contrasting with Maya’s heat, the faint scent mingling with her own arousal. Maya gasps, hips lifting off the bed involuntarily. A sharp cry escaping her lips as the tingling shockwave radiates outwards. “Oh god,” she breathes, fingers twisting in the sheets. Before Maya can recover, Sheri is moving again. She takes another powerful drag; her eyes locked on Maya’s. She leans close, her free hand cupping Maya’s jaw, tilting her head back slightly. Sheri’s lips meet Maya’s, not in a kiss, but as a seal. She forces the smoke from her own lungs directly into Maya’s mouth and down her throat. Maya instinctively inhales, the mentholated cloud flooding her chest, cool and heavy. It mixes violently with the cannabis haze already swirling within her. The dual high intensifies tenfold – a dizzying rush that makes the room spin and her skin feel hypersensitive, every nerve ending screaming. The vibrator buzzes against her inner thigh, a teasing promise. Maya moans, a deep, guttural sound, her back arching as the smoke and the anticipation coil tight in her core. “Feel it,” Sheri whispers against her lips, the words vibrating through the shared breath. “Feel it all.” Maya fumbles for her own cigarette; her movements slow and deliberate in the thick, smoke-laden air. She brings it to her lips, the filter, cool against her skin. She draws in a long, deep drag, the menthol sharp and bracing, filling her lungs until they ache. She holds it there, feeling the familiar burn intensify, a delicious pressure building inside her chest. Sheri’s tongue finds her again, slow, broad strokes that send shockwaves through Maya’s entire body. The smoke seems to pulse in time with her heartbeat, a heavy, rhythmic thrumming deep within her. The vibrator hums to life; its low purr joining the symphony of sensation. Sheri guides it slowly, deliberately past Maya’s slick folds, the cool plastic a stark contrast to the heat. Maya gasps, the sound choked as she fights to hold the smoke. Her knuckles are white around the cigarette. Sheri’s tongue circles her clit, firm and relentless, while the vibrator presses deep inside, finding a spot that makes Maya cry out, smoke escaping in a thin, desperate wisp. Maya pulls again, hard and frantic. The cigarette flares bright, paper crackling. She inhales the mentholated heat deep into her lungs, holding it until stars dance behind her eyelids. The pressure is immense; the burn is almost painful, but it’s fused with the electric pleasure radiating from Sheri’s mouth and the insistent buzz vibrating through her core. She feels the smoke itself, heavy and potent, seeming to seep through her tissues, down into her belly, pooling low and hot where Sheri works. Before she can exhale, Maya pulls again, a desperate double-pump. She sucks the smoke down, filling her lungs beyond capacity, the menthol turning icy, the nicotine hitting her bloodstream like a freight train. Her vision tunnels, the room dissolving into swirling grey clouds shot through with neon bursts. The sensations collide – the relentless vibration deep inside, the exquisite friction on her clit, the crushing weight of the smoke in her chest, and the dizzying THC high amplifying it all tenfold. The orgasm detonates. It isn’t a wave; it’s a supernova. It rips through her from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. A convulsive, blinding surge of pure sensation. Her back arches violently off the bed with a ragged scream tearing from her throat as smoke explodes from her mouth and nose in a thick, uncontrolled plume. Every muscle locks, trembling uncontrollably, as the pleasure pulses in devastating waves, each one deeper, more shattering than the last. It feels endless, consuming, like her entire body is dissolving into pure ecstasy. Tears stream down her temples, mingling with sweat. She’s vaguely aware of her fingers clawing the sheets, her hips grinding helplessly against Sheri’s face, riding the relentless current. She doesn’t realize it, but she has been holding the smoke in her lungs throughout the orgasm. Slowly, agonizing slowly, the tremors begin to subside. The blinding white light behind her eyes fades to pulsing colors, then to the dim outlines of Sheri’s bedroom. Maya collapses back onto the soaked sheets, gasping for air. Her limbs feel like liquid lead, utterly boneless. A profound, trembling aftershock runs through her. She stares at the ceiling, her chest heaving. “Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice raw and shaky, barely audible over the ringing in her ears. “That… that was…” Words fail. She turns her head, her eyes wide and dazed, finding Sheri’s face. “The most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. Ever.” Sheri wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Her own breathing is slightly elevated, her eyes bright with arousal and amusement. She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at Maya. “Good,” she says simply. Then, her gaze sharpens, a challenge sparking in the blue depths. “So,” she purrs, tracing a lazy finger down Maya’s sweat-slicked arm. “You think you can do that to me?” Maya shivers; the aftershocks still tingling through her limbs. She turns her head, meeting Sheri’s intense stare. The raw power of her own climax, fueled by smoke and Sheri’s skilled touch, is still vibrating in her bones. A slow, determined smile spreads across Maya’s face, replacing the dazed wonder. Her voice is husky, laced with newfound confidence. “I don’t know,” she admits, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “But it will be fun trying.” The promise hangs thick in the smoky air. Sheri’s answering grin is predatory. She reaches for the sleek blue bong, packing the bowl with practiced ease. The lighter clicks, flame flaring. She takes a long, deep pull, holding the smoke until her cheeks hollow, then releases the carb. A massive plume erupts, swirling towards the ceiling. She passes it to Maya. No hesitation this time. Maya mirrors her, pulling hard, feeling the dense cannabis smoke flood her lungs, cool and earthy, amplifying the lingering buzz. She holds it, the pressure building, then exhales a slow, controlled stream; her eyes never leave Sheri’s. They take a second hit each, the room thickening with haze. Then, Sheri grabs her pack of Virginia Slims. Two cigarettes are lit, the twin embers glowing like tiny eyes in the dimness. Sheri hands one to Maya, then settles back against the pillows, her body, a languid invitation. She takes a slow, deliberate drag; her gaze locked on Maya, expectant, challenging. Maya moves, the high making her limbs feel fluid, dreamlike, yet her focus is razor-sharp. She kneels beside Sheri; the menthol cigarette clamped between her lips. She inhales deeply, feeling the familiar icy burn, the nicotine mingling with the THC, sending fresh sparks down her spine. Her free hand trails down Sheri’s stomach, tracing the curve of her hip, feeling the soft skin quiver under her touch. She goes down on Sheri, turning the vibrator up and moving it around her opening as she licks her clit. Sheri takes a massive double pump inhaling the smoke deep. Maya watches her with hunger as she continues to stimulate Sheri’s pussy. Sheri moans out the smoke. Maya watching is so turned on and it shows. Maya pulls the vibrator back, coating it in Sheri’s wetness. She pushes it inside with a slow, deliberate thrust, finding the angle. Sheri gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. Maya flicks the vibrator to its highest setting. The sudden, intense buzz fills the room. She begins a steady rhythm – in, out, deep – punctuated by sharp, upward tilts that press hard against Sheri’s G-spot every few strokes. Sheri cries out, her back arching, fingers clawing at the sheets. Her cigarette burns forgotten in the ashtray beside her. Maya burns through her own cigarette quickly, the ember flaring with each frantic drag. Sheri grabs two fresh Virginia Slims, lights them both, and hands one to Maya. Maya takes it with trembling fingers, sucking in a desperate double-pump drag, her eyes wide and wild on Sheri she blows the smoke all over Sheri’s pussy. She then goes down and sucks on her clit right when Sheri is taking the second pull of a massive double pump. She inhales her core as she comes. She holds the smoke for a few min shaking and screams out an exhale. “Oh, fuck me!!!! . Sheri is having aftershocks; she takes a drag of her cigarette with a shaky hand. As she exhales, she kisses Maya. Maya takes the smoke and exhales. Sheri says, “So What do you think?” Maya says, “I think I am rewired.”