neurontin 400 mg ~ erotica ~
The cowboy puffed on his cigar, then brought his mouth to her lips. He kissed her softly, gently. The smoke entered her mouth, slipped from both their lips, and surround their faces in a haze. She was shocked by his gentleness, shocked that such care could come from this seemingly cruel man.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar again, brought his lips to her neck, and released his smoke under her chin. The heat rose up, kissing her skin, swimming up her face. To her surprise, the act felt calming, almost cleansing, as if his smoke washed over more than just her skin.
Another draw from his cigar, and this time his face settle into her now wild hair. His smoke filled her strands, the heat from his breath and his spent tobacco encircling her face. Now she felt another surprising emotion: intimacy. With this man who’d taken her. With this man who abused her. With this man she now felt herself drawn towards, wanting, needing.
And with that thought, she drew back. But he would not let her go far. His hand on her shoulder pulled her forward, pulled her face to his again, to his lips and to his kiss again with the haze of the smoke between them.
Despite her brain telling her to run away, to pull back, to fight, something in her melted. Something in her let it happen, let her want for this man take hold. Something in her relented, and though she could not utter the words, she knew now that she was his.
Leaning back, he looked into her eyes. And, somehow, she knew that he knew too.
His cigar now had a sizable head of ash. The cowboy rolled the chunk into his hand, preserving the cherry, and crushed the nugget into many small flakes. The cowboy took his ash filled hand and smoothed it over her chest, over her breasts, and up her neck. He grazed her cheek, traced the line of her chin, and then slapped her. This time, instead of seeing it as a punishment, she felt his hit as a caress.
The cowboy puffed on his cigar and blew his smoke over her skin. Up her arms. Puff. Across her chest. Puff. Over her shoulder, down her back. Puff. Into her hair. Puff.
And then he kissed her again.
With another head of ash ready for him, the cowboy again rolled it into his hand and broke up the ball into a multitude of flakes. This time he smoothed the ash over her back. As a line tumbled down, falling in between the crack of her ass, she somehow found herself smiling and giggling.
The cowboy picked up her chin and steered her eyes towards his. His face was stern, but then somehow he cracked a smile and lightly kissed her.
Laying his arm across her back, he pulled her body into his lap. Holding his cigar, he puffed, blew his smoke onto her skin, then trailed his cherry along her flesh, just barely not touching her. She could feel the heat as it loomed oh so close to her body.
And then the cowboy lightly tapped her skin. She yelped at each touch, the heat of the cigar like miniature burns to her flesh. After each of his touches, he wiped his hand over her skin as if rubbing the hurt away. He puffed, blew smoke over her back again, and then kissed her shoulder.
Releasing her body from his lap, she looked up and saw most of his cigar was gone. She could not help but feel sad, knowing this moment she spent with him would soon end.
As if sensing her thoughts, the cowboy brushed his hand against her cheek and cooed, “I know, but no moment lasts forever.”
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