Okay so last time he had just stuck the stogie in my mouth. I was tasting my first puffs of premium cigar smoke and it was good! I took lots of quick little puffs, as if concerned about it being all the way lit, the cigar moved up and down in my mouth. I saw it jutting way out in the middle of my peripheral vision, and thought, hey, wow, I'm smoking a cigar. And I LOVE IT! Joe smiled at me and chuckled a little, this action angling his cigar up and jiggling it, and after a long, contemplative draw pulled the cigar out of his mouth and said through a cloud of fragrant smoke, touching my shoulder "c'mon, let's go."
We drove around town and saw the sights of the beach and the rest of the town, which took about an hour (since it's kind of a small town and we weren't stopping anywhere ). I felt excitement at finally meeting and smoking with him simultaneous with feeling... just so comfortable with him. We enjoyed each other's company, he gave me pointers on how to smoke my cigar, told stories of his experiences that I was all ears for, and encouraged me in my college studies and career goals that I talked about. In a strange way, it was almost... fatherly, as twisted as that may sound, or like a big brother. At the same time we were on the same level, buddies.
Sometimes Joe held his cigar in his hand along with the steering wheel, but more often, due to needing his hands free for driving, he had it clenched in his teeth. Though I found cigars attractive overall, I especially found it hot when a guy had it in his mouth with no hands. Though the car's windows were down- it was a nice July afternoon with some clouds in the sky, so it wasn't sweltering- it was getting pretty smoky in the car. But it was an environment I liked. Throw in us wearing suits and drinking beers (or maybe, I thought, later Joe will introduce me to a "man's drink" like Scotch) and it would be perfect. 20 minutes into the ride I finally got a long enough ash and he counseled me to tap it off into his car's ashtray. I was happy to follow my big bro's instructions and absentmindedly wondered if he would have any instructions of a... different nature for me later.
Finally we got back to the hotel- as Joe had reassured me, it was smoking-friendly, apparently more and more a rarity in this day and age- "can't a man kick back and puff on a good cigar in his hotel?" he complained, although somewhat jokingly.
I made a suggestion: from the car to the hotel room, the cigars never left our mouths, we puffed all down the hallway, leaving a trail of smoke. Smoking cigars kicks ASS!, I thought. A few people gave us dirty looks, but I didn't give a fuck, we were badasses! I felt like my cigar was carrying me along in a cloud of confidence and manliness! Me and my buddy Joe were invincible with cigars in mouth!
In the hotel room (fortunately, a smoking room, of-fuckin-course) Joe indicated an ashtray I could put my cigar down in- my long-ass cigar had only been half-smoked! No sooner had I put it down and blown out an epic cloud of smoke from my most recent puff than suddenly Joe pulled me to him, cigar in hand, and kissed me passionately. I was surprised, but very pleasantly. Neither of us had specifically talked about romantic overtones of our friendship before, but it was clearly boiling under the surface- as evidenced by all the compliments back-and-forth online and in person on our ride.
He chomped his stogie back in his mouth and opened a suitcase (he had checked in before meeting me) and handed me a pair of swim. "Here Doug, why dontcha' put these on?" he said around the stogie chomped in the center of his mouth, which jiggled with every word.
I swallowed. Today's surprises just kept coming. It was one of those barely boxer-brief-sized swim trunks that were navy blue with a white edge and a few white stripes down each outer side along my thighs. I went to change in the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and felt sexy in it, except a little embarrassed about my slight gut.
I came back out into the main room and Joe had changed, and I feasted my eyes on his uncovered torso for the first time. He had a six-pack and well-developed pecs, but more importantly to me, a V-shaped torso, with big wide shoulders going down to a comparatively thin waist. Not to mention his thick neck that evoked stereotypes of football players or musclemen. And, to top off his body which was like a tower of manly beauty, his black high-and-tight with gray temples, dark brown eyes you could get lost in with just a few barely noticeable crow's feet, and, jutting out of his mouth, right above his strong square chin, his smoldering stogie, still jutting about 6 inches upward and outward from his mouth, and its round shape seemed to fill it just right. He smiled as I walked back in, his cigar angling further up as he did. I shyly put my hands over my stomach.
He reassured me that he had his pick of guys back north, but he was here to see me, and I was good-looking just the way I was, but if I was interested he said he could help me work out and get the body I wanted.
I said maybe so, not thinking how he would do that if he didn't live here.
