“Ah… fuck me!”
When my alarm woke me up from my nap, I was grumpy. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. For a moment, all I knew was that I wanted to go back to sleep.
And then I remembered I was at Shibaricon. And then I remembered I was going to a cigars, boots, and chocolate social.
Pulling myself out of bed, I hastily took a shower and assembled my outfit for the night, an iteration of my school girl uniform with the addition of my boots.
With my bootblack kit and hoodie (in case of chill) in tow, I headed downstairs. I was fashionably late as I exited the lobby onto the private patio.
Though there was much room, unfortunately the patio was long but not very wide. It was rather like a large hallway that was missing one and a half walls. Still there were friends in attendance, smoke in the air, and bootblacks already hard at work. I set my kit aside, pulled out my cigar accoutrement, and breezed my way through the crowd giving greetings.
“Hey pretty girl,” said Gray as I passed by him and many other seated gentleman. I smiled, then paused for a moment.
“What? You’re a pretty girl.” He casually rubbed my thigh and ass.
Was that on purpose or just a coincidence? I didn’t want to know.
Moving past the awkward moment (which I will explain towards the end of this month), I continued to mingle.
Surprisingly, happily, I saw a familiar face. Even in the dim light, it was still easy to recognize NHF. He, along with other folks from Minnesota, had made the trek to Chicago.
With a stick ready to smoke, NHF allowed me to give service as I helped him light his cigar. We got to chatting about Shibaricon and our lives in general. I mentioned Doc and Green Eyes, wallowing & dancing. He praised me for my openness.
Feeling brave, I inquired about his dance card. He said it was mostly empty. We agreed on a play date for the next night, after the Cabaret.
With a head of ash now atop his cigar, NHF granted me the pleasure of eating it from his hand. Without missing a beat, we fell right into the D/s dynamic we’d had on my last night in St. Paul, the last time I’d seen him, the first time we’d met.
Grabbing my hair, he guided my head to his palm. Completely covering my mouth, I ate my treat from his hand. He then allowed me a modicum of freedom to move my face about as I liked and sucked his palm.
NHF turned out to be the appetizer for my evening. With official introductions given, I was granted the pleasure of eating from both of Gray’s female companions’ hands. Then Jocasta, a wonderful woman who gifted me not only rope but cigar boxes in our last encounter, also offered her ash to me. Lastly Lochai, ever the dirty man, served up his ash on the chest of one of his girls. I was able to share my treat with her as our lips both tasted his flecks in a kiss. To end my ash eating, Lochai granted me a smoke kiss.
As I drifted away from the seated group, I found myself back next to NHF. Once again feeling bold, I asked if he could grant me the pleasure of his smoke in my hair. As he got closer, very close, I felt the heat both from his breath and his body against me.
We stood, me in front of him. My ass near his crotch. His hands on my hips. I found myself needing to bend down for things. My water bottle. My chocolate. Each time I presented my ass. Once his hand slipped under my skirt, caressing my ass, the touch I had hoped for through my nonverbal hints.
As more people filtered in and out, MattP and Inretrepida arrive. As we chatted, NHF decided to sit down and invited me to relax next to him. In doing so, I knew this brought us back to the same level; the D/s moment had ended.
When a student from my cigar play class approached, I knew I had just what she needed: an Acid Blondie. It had been gifted to me earlier that day, and now I was gifting it to her.
With my preferred gateway cigar, I demonstrated to her the service/ritual aspects I’d talked about in class. I removed the cellophane, took off the band, wet & cut the end, and offered the tobacco back to her. As she held it, I produced my flame. Her stick lit, I again reminded her to not inhale.
Soon she had a head of ash ready for my consumption. Her hand out, my treat before me, my face was soon in her palm. As I ate her ash, I felt a familiar hand in my hair.
“You’d better eat that ash right.”
NHF’s voice in my ear made this new experience I gave to my student so much hotter, at least for me.
My treat finished, NHF’s hand slipped from my strands. We all went back to chatting. The D/s moment had passed. But I still had a play date set for the next evening.
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