Tobacconist’s Blend

[CigarBear68]

Nice...was that pipe smoke I smelled in the distance??

[Need2submit]

Thanks, and there is some pipe smoke developing.  Stay tuned...

[CigarBear68]

Great. I hope he's a mean mother fucker?

[CigarBear68]

I'm getting eager for more?

[Need2submit]

Hopefully I’ll have something up tomorrow night.   I’ve been busy with work.  Actual work, not the fun kind...

[CigarBear68]

I hate it when work gets in the way of a good porn story. 

[Need2submit]

Part 3.

 

     I was tunnel-visioned out, passing out boxes of cigarettes like a clown on a parade float.  The smile painted on, but really just a dancing monkey with a cash register calling the tune.  Then Mick reached in and pulled me out.  “Hey, I’m busy with getting the cigar shipment sorted out,” he shot over his shoulder, “maybe help that guy in the humidor?  Said he wanted some pipe tobacco.”

  I headed back to the walk-in humidor and stepped inside.  Just on the other side of the center table display I could see black leather through the stacked boxes of Upmanns and Fuentes.  “Hmmm, we’ve got the Hemingway’s in,” I noted to myself.  As I thought to grab a Short Story for later, the man at the jars of pipe tobacco shifted a bit and my eyes wandered back to him.  

    It was the leather that really caught my eye.  Black leather, but not that pristine, showroom new leather or the glossy vinyl that seemed to be so popular with the weekend warrior set.  This leather was broken in, supple, with a grain that can only be nurtured over years of wear and care.  He wore that jacket and there was no chance of it wearing him.  When he moved his arm up to take down a jar of Latakia, the creases and folds made that magical sound, the sound that muscles must make under the skin when they tense and pull and expand.  I began to sweat just a little bit.  It was 78° in the humidor, but it might as well have been 100.  My jeans also got incrementally tighter.

    “Could you help me here?”  He asked that as less of a question and much more like a command.  He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t abrasive, and I wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t just spoken directly into my mind.

    “Sure, What do you need?” I ventured as I rounded the corner just to his left.  He turned his head and looked at me for a moment.  Or maybe an hour.  I wasn’t really experiencing things in a linear way as I caught sight of his eyes.  They could have been blue, could have been green, or they could have been as black as the leather he wore neck to toes.  His eyes didn’t move from mine, but I knew he had fully scanned me, from the floor right up to the top of my head. I felt like I had just passed through a CAT scan.  

    “I need a blend for tonight,” he said, crooking his right eyebrow just a bit for emphasis, “something smooth with more than a little edge to it.”  His eyes dipped ever so subtly down my body, then slid back up.

   “I see you have the Latakia there,” I said almost unconsciously, with a slight nod toward the jar in his hands.  The nod dislodged a bead of sweat that had built at the nape of my hairline which then rolled straight down my spine, raising the hair on my arms like a static charge.  “That’ll get you the edge you need in a good blend.  I’d go two thirds black cavendish for the smoothness and a third of the Latakia if that’s what you’re looking for.”

    Again, he crooked that eyebrow at me and gave the slightest smile.  “Sounds perfect, but I’d like a hint of flavor in there too.” He paused, just long enough to scan me one more time.  “What would you toss in there?”

  “For taste and aroma, we’ve got this burley and Virginia cherry blend,” I gestured toward the jar on my left, but it felt like I was moving my arm through black strap molasses, the tension was so palpable.  “A little bit of that goes a long way, so I’d just put an ounce or two in the blend.”

    He smiled that crooked smile again, “Sold.  I’ll take a pound of your special blend tonight.”  I could have sworn he said something else as well, but it was only my percolating imagination piecing those particular words together.

    “I’ll grab these jars and take them out to the scale” I murmured, almost choking, as I pulled the Latakia out of his grip and gathered the other two jars.  As I turned to walk out, I saw him reach inside his jacket but was quickly out the door to mix up his order.

   The air outside the humidor was almost bracing as the rush of the ceiling fans powered off the layer of heat I carried with me.  I set about pulling his order together, portioning out the balance he was looking for, carefully lacing the cherry flavor throughout the blend.  It had to be even to pack right and smoke consistently with each bowl.  There is no recipe with tobacco, at least not good tobacco, just a touch and intuition.  After a few minutes and a trip to the scale, I had the blend in a ziplock ready to go.  Just as I sealed the bag, he strode out of the humidor and to the register where I met him.  

   “That’ll be twenty three dollars” I said as absently as I usually do when manning the cash box.  

    “Here’s thirty,” He said as he handed two crisp, folded bills to me.  “Keep the change.”  He then tucked the baggie into his inside breast pocket and disappeared through the door.  I looked down and went to put the twenty and the ten away when a slip of paper slid out from between them and fell to the floor, bouncing off the edge of my shoe.  The skittering sound set off my adrenaline and I was frozen for a second.  Snapping to, I jammed the bills into the register, slammed it closed and retrieved the paper.

    As I tucked it into my back pocket, I looked over at Mick.  “Hey, I need to use the john.  You okay with the shop?”

    “Yeah, no problem man.”

     And with that, the sweat I thought had been part and parcel with the humidor hit me again.  I knew I had to read this note as soon as absolutely possible.

[Archanos]

Great story so far. Cant wait for the next part

[CigarBear68]

Damn, ya got the suspense notched all the way up! Excellent chapter, and this new character is intriguing as fuck. 

[CigarBear68]

Eyes are so dark brown they almost look black, btw. ? And bald. 

[Need2submit]

Part 4.

 

    I somehow managed to get myself into the bathroom before my hard cock announced my intentions to the general public.  It wasn’t easy, but it was absolutely necessary.  I let out the breath I’d been holding since the note first bounced off my shoe and unfolded the paper.

    “Hello faggot,” it opened and those words alone made my dick even harder.  I love a man who immediately puts me in my place.  The note continued, “Your shop closes at 10:30.  By midnight I expect you to be in a booth at The Red Cat and completely naked, ready for what’s next.  Go to booth 35, and you will find further instructions.”   There was no signature.

    I found myself just staring at the words and lost in the image of that booth.  I’d been to The Red Cat a few times.  It was a seedy porn shop just off the interstate about 20 Miles south of town, a place with ample parking for semis and always a host of regulars prowling for getting their rocks off.  Having swallowed more than a few loads there my mouth went dry and my hole clenched.  This pipe daddy wanted an audience.

    Luckily the customers were steady enough to make the last hour or so pass quickly, and even luckier the counters in the shop were high enough to keep my raging hard-on from public view.  Sure we were a tobacco shop, but it was a family crowd.  For the most part.

    Finally, the last customer was hustled out of the shop and Mick turned the key in the lock.  “Not a bad fuckin night!  We should grab a beer, man.”

     “I can’t tonight,” I said, feeling a little flushed and more than a little distracted.  “I’ve got some shit to take care of so I’ve gotta get out of here before the second wave of bar goons hit the district.”  Mick had no idea how literal I was in that moment.  I needed to clean my hole out and get that hole to the Red Cat as fast as possible. If I was getting fucked, I wanted just lube, cum, and my clear ass juices on that cigar daddy’s cock because I always clean up after myself.

    The next hour was a blur and my head was definitely in the backseat to my body’s routine.  It had been months since I’d done anything except suck a load out of a guy and everything animal in me managed the business at hand.  Light T-Shirt, thin cotton drawstring pants, flip flops and straight up commando.  It was best to travel light to the bookstore.  Phone, money clip with the bare minimum of cash, ID, and a tube of astroglide.  I also had a ziplock bag tucked into my pocket with tightly folded moist wipes.  It didn’t take long to learn those were vital in situations like this.  Dollar store paper towels feel like you’re wiping your well fucked and swollen hole with a jagged asphalt shingle.  I prefer my pain to have a cock associated with it, not the clean-up.

    I didn’t look at myself in the mirror as I swept the keys off the dresser.  It didn’t matter what I looked like now.  It only mattered that I be bareassed and ready to go once I was inside booth 35.  It was now 11:30 and I had beat feet to get there on time.

    I left the a/c off for the drive to prepare my self for the assault on the senses the Red Cat always provided.  The only A/C they had was in the showroom.  I guess they didn’t want those rubber dicks to wilt under the usual heat and thick humidity this time of year was riddled with. Once in the darkness of the booths, that heat and hanging damp were perfect.  All the smells congealed with every breath you took and made it feel like you were inches away from a nicely tuned rack of cock and balls at all times.  Six feet into this maze of black painted plywood and my shirt and pants were clinging to the sweat pouring out of me.  Focused, well as focused as I could be in the sweltering thick air,  I made my way to booth 35. Most of the doors were closed and occupied.  A full compliment of fuck hunters tonight.  Four or five guys, as usual, were hanging out in their usual “random” spread.  If getting eye fucked were a thing, I’d already have at least three loads in me or on me.  But I was on a specific mission and now, I was here.  Booth 35.  Second to last in the row and very much unoccupied.  I took a breath of the syrup thick air, stepped inside, and closed the door behind me.  11:56.  Dead on time.  

    As my eyes adjusted to the bright blue blast of the video monitor I saw there was another note taped to its scratched and cum smeared plexiglass cover.  It was folded in three and it had some words on the outside.  My eyes managed to acclimate fairly quickly so I could read “ALL CLOTHES OFF BEFORE READING”.  It was definitive and I snapped to immediately.  I sat the note on the bench and quickly shed my shirt and then pants.  They were barely there anyway because of the thin material, but they were now like a light whisper now piled into the corner.  Then, I picked up the note and flipped it open.

    “Good faggot.”  I heard it in his thick, edgy voice, like he was millimeters away from my ear.  “You made it this far.  Now you’re going someplace you’ve never gone.  I will only fuck a hole that is primed and ready and has shown it will go as far as I decide.  Your task now is to take 10 loads—5 down your throat and 5 in your hole.  I will be watching, and counting.” A shiver ran down my spine straight to my asshole.  I hadn’t taken 5 loads in either hole combined in the 7 months before now.  “And you aren’t going to sit like a princess and wait for them to come to you.  I haven’t got all night.  You will take your naked ass out and into the hall and make this happen.  Now, get out of those goddamned shoes, lube up your fucking hole and start pulling loads like the low goddamned slut you are.  I will know when you’ve hit your goal.”

     And that was it.  I didn’t have to read it twice. I took another deep breath, kicked off my flip flops and eased out the door.  There were three guys just hanging out, and I walked my way toward them.  I was on autopilot.  Or should I say autowhore?  Either way, there was no way I was able to turn back now and it felt fucking incredible.

[CigarBear68]

Great new chapter! You got the suspense ratcheted up and juices flowing!

[cubster1984]

Omg yessssaa

[littlebull]

Got my cock hard!

 

[TTFN]

i love anon in a bookstore.

making me horny more please.