Harriet Learns to Smoke & Fuck Ch14

Chapter Fourteen:

Boléro

Wankminster Central Hall was dark and silent, its occupants waiting with bated breath for the start of the final performance of Smoke-'n'-Fuck 2050. Fuxmy Gopal and her cameraman had returned to their posts at the rear, and the three judges were seated back at their table in the centre of the auditorium. A single spotlight picked out Harriet's face, her blond hair swept back so that her broad jaw and full red lips shone with allure. As the music started, softly at first, just some slow plucked violas and cellos, and a quiet but driving rhythm on the snare drum, the spot widened to reveal Harriet in a pink bikini, her large breasts straining against her top, her body slowly writhing in cunt-dripping anticipation. Her legs were clothed in thigh-high pink latex boots, spread wide on her stool to allow the audience to descry a small rectangular shape concealed beneath her pink gusset. There was a gasp of admiration as people recognised the form of the unseen flip-top box pressed tight against Harriet's cunt.

"Oh fuck, that's hot," breathed Fuxmy, her fingers straying to her own crotch as she watched. "Don't you think that's hot, Bill?" she whispered to her cameraman, who was in down-time mode, reading his copy of Viz and largely ignoring both her and the show. Harriet reached downwards with one hand to stroke the unseen packet of cigarettes up and down her vulva, as she fixed the judges at their table with a luminous fuck-me stare. It was clearly working: Dr Taylor's fat cock was already poking, stiff and hard, above the edge of the judges' table. On his left Danica was already absent-mindedly kneading her tits, and gently squelching the tip of her dildo against her fuck-lips; on his right, Zara had pulled up her pencil skirt and was sliding one finger smoothly in and out of her bald cunt.

A solo flute had begun to play, its melody sinuous and sensual, winding its way slowly downwards over the mechanical fuck-beat of the snare. Harriet's hands echoed the melody, curling, stroking, squeezing her genetically modified tits through her bikini top, then releasing them so that her swollen nipples protruded proudly over the cups. "Oh fuck, look at those tits," moaned Fuxmy, as she moistened the fingers of one hand and began gently rubbing her clit. Bill the cameraman continued to ignore her.

"Slowly does it, Harriet," Miss Poussée had said. "You want them gagging for you -- like you gag for a cigarette. You want them addicted to you -- even those who don't smoke. You want them to need to see your cunt, need to see you release that packet of cigs from your gash. So keep stroking your body, keep it sensual, at least till the clarinet begins."

Soon, the clarinet line was winding itself around the clockwork pizzicato pulse of the strings. "Oh Janey, that's so fucking sexy!" Harriet had exclaimed the first time Janey had played it to her, her body writhing, her lips and tongue caressing the sultry fuck-me tune out of her instrument. We gotta use this piece: it's so fucking hot!"

"It's a classic," Janey explained helpfully, "by a French composer called --"

"Did he write it for people to fuck to?" Harriet interrupted.

"I don't think people wrote fuck-music in those days -- or at least they didn't admit it..."

Now Harriet's right hand was between her legs, sliding that unseen packet of smokes up and down her cunt. She could feel the cellophane rubbing against her pussy-lips, feel her fuck-juices gradually coat her cigarette packet. Seated at the back of the auditorium, Polly Poussée and Abdul Ahss-Faqr were watching their protégée proudly: she had her left hand wrapped reassuringly around his cock while his fingers gently massaged her vulva. The audience was moaning with appreciation, desperate for the moment Harriet would reveal her flaring cunt-lips, light a cigarette, and jerk herself off. But --

"Slowly does it," Miss Poussée had said. "OK, the clarinet solo is coming to an end, so slip your thong off, but keeping rubbing your cunt with that cigarette packet. The fetishists will love seeing you get off that way, the non-fetishists will still be gagging to see your cunt. Either way, you're onto a winner..."

As Harriet slipped out of her thong, another gasp rose from the audience -- not just at the glorious sight of Harriet's bald pink cunt, already wet and dripping from her cigarette-packet pleasuring, but at her packet of cigarettes itself. "Cameltoe No. 9 Pink 100s!" was the exclamation circulating in enthusiastic whispers among the smoking cognoscenti in the audience. Harriet smiled.

"I've had these specially commissioned!" Nurse Coxucca had announced gleefully, brandishing a packet, as Harriet bounded into sick bay one afternoon. "A re-creation of a brand specially made for the female market around the turn of the century!"

"Ooh, hot pink, like fucked-out cunt!" Harriet had exclaimed, as she examined the packet and peeled off the cellophane.

Nurse Coxucca laughed. "I think they were originally called 'No. 9' because that was the cloud they put you on."

"Let's see if they do!" grinned Harriet as she extracted one long white cigarette. "Oh look, there's the cameltoe!" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the pink cunt logo on the filter, lit up, and took a long, deep, double drag. "Fuck, they're good!" she sighed through an upwards exhale...

"Oh Jesus motherfuck," Fuxmy whispered, as her own hand parallelled Harriet's flip-top box -- sliding in and out of her dark trimmed cunt, as in the seat next to her Bill was still enraptured by his Viz. Harriet was fucking herself now, stretching her cunt wide with her cigarette packet, feeling the cellophane caress her inner walls, feeling her fuck-juices coat it and dribble down onto her fingers. The bassoon was holding the tune, its timbre rich and reedy, the melody bluesy and dissonant, almost dirty, as Harriet's fingers painted a smear of cunt-juice onto her puckered asshole. And when the ecstatic squeal of the E-flat clarinet took over, Harriet opened her mouth wide in imitation, to silently announce her own pleasure, as the tip of one finger slipped gently within the rim of her shithole, while her other hand was still fucking the slimy packet of Cameltoe Pinks in and out of her fuck-gash.

You like seeing my Pinks up my pink? sounded a voice. But it was not Harriet's; it was a recorded voiceover, feminine, but echoing deep, breathy and reverberant, layered across the musical soundtrack, but whirling around the auditorium in quadrophonic sound. You like seeing my slimy box in my box? it continued. Both my boxes are pink and slimy: you wanna taste them?

"Fuck yes," panted Fuxmy, her tongue drooling -- while Bill continued to ignore everything going on around him. All three judges were rubbing themselves off at their table, any semblance of professional restraint long abandoned. Harriet smiled again to herself. Good call, using Janey as the voice-over, she thought. Even I admit it...

"No no, Harriet," Polly Poussée had insisted. much to Harriet's annoyance. "We can't use your voice: it's far too girly! We need a voice which is sultry, mature. Now who do I know...?"

"Can I try, Miss Poussée?" Janey ventured meekly.

"You?" Miss Poussée looked aghast at the skinny girl in pigtails.

"Well, I do a lot of acting," replied Janey, "in my am-dram group, you know? Here, how about this?" Janey took a deep breath, before reciting in a deep breathy voice, "'You like watching me smoke, pervs? You like watching me drag on this cigarette, like I'm sucking your big dick? I need to smoke, fuckers -- as much as I need to be fucked...'"

Miss Poussée's jaw dropped -- for suddenly Janey's voice had turned rich and resonant: mature, sensual, voluptuous, seductive. "Ohhh..." remarked the teacher, nodding with satisfaction, "that's good... Not just a pretty cunt then, eh, Janey?"

"Thank you, Miss..."

As the oboe d'amore commenced the reprise of the original flute melody, Harriet slipped her cigarette packet from her cunt, and her finger out of her asshole. "Smoke... smoke!" she could hear the audience egging her on in desperate whispers -- but it was not quite time for that. Instead she extended her tongue, licking her cunt-slime off the flip-top box before slowly, seductively peeling off the damp pungent cellophane and casting it nonchalantly toward the audience. Flipping open the top, she held the packet up to her mouth, extracting one long white cigarette hands-free and dangling it between her lips. Unclasping her bikini top to display her proud, glorious tits, she retrieved her pink cigarette lighter from where it had been nestling, hitherto unseen, in the warm cleft between her breasts, and flicked it. A collective gasp of anticipation erupted from audience and judges alike -- but Harriet was still teasing. Want me to smoke my Pink? Janey's sultry breathy thespian voiceover whirled around the hall, eliciting a lustful moan of assent from all present. Or shall I pink my smoke? teased the voice, as Harriet held her virgin cigarette against her cunt and began painting it up and down between her wet fuck-lips. Want me to smoke my Cameltoe? The voice, though still deep and seductive, was rising in intensity now. Or shall I fuck my cameltoe with my smoke?

As a muted trumpet began to sound out a repeat of the oboe melody, Harriet plunged the filter end of her cigarette into her cunt. Oh yeah, I love fucking my cunt with my cigarette! Janey's voice reverberated around the hall. Do you like watching me fuck my ciggy in and out of my fuckhole? The audience moaned their agreement, even louder. Wouldn't you like to be that cigarette, plunging in and out of my fucking cunt?!

Fuxmy could hold back no longer. She had grabbed a spare microphone, and was rubbing it against her dark cunt. "Your cock, Bill, your cock," she muttered, opening her mouth wide in anticipation. "No, put that fucking mag away, dammit, I need cock!" Bill sighed, put his comic down, and stood up so he could dangle his soft dick in front of his colleague's face. "Mmm-aargh..." she growled as she swallowed the soft dangling member and began sucking hard on it in a desperate attempt to coax it into an erection, all the while jamming the microphone deep into her pussy. At the judges' desk, the female judges were both stroking Jon Taylor's fat cock with one hand each, while the fingers of both his hands were curled into their cunts.

"Good, good, Harriet -- that way you get them all jerking off even before you light your first cigarette. That means even the non-smoke-freaks will be hot and horny: you need them on your side too!"

"Won't everyone there be a fetishist, Miss? I mean, who's gonna come to a smoking competition if they don't like smoking?"

"Don't count on it, Harriet. You need everyone on your side: the press, the TV presenters, the stage hands, the cameramen, even the cleaning ladies if you can! You need to get them all buzzing like your cunt!"

It was the tenor saxophone's turn now, espressivo, bluesy, flattened and Phrygian, molto vibrato, the perfect accompaniment for Harriet to place the slimy white filter end, adorned by its pink cunt logo, between her moist red lips. Wanna see this Cameltoe between my lips, fuckers? Janey's voice echoed cheekily around the auditorium. I love feeling my lips closing round hot pink cameltoe, don't you? Harriet flicked the lighter again, this time to genuinely fire up her first cigarette of the afternoon. Oh fuck, that's good! Harriet thought to herself as she felt the smoke caress its way deep into her needy lungs. She had deliberately starved herself of nicotine for the past three hours, so she would be gagging for smoke by now, and could inhale as impossibly deep as she wanted. And now, it was time to show off what she could do with that smoke...

"Taylor?" she had yelped with delight as the woman's wrinkled face had flickered into view on her screen. "Is that you?"

"It is," croaked her interlocutor with a smile and a gentle Antipodean drawl. "M' pussy, Harriet."

"Oh, I am so honoured to meet you. I've watched all your videos: you are the best!"

The old woman laughed. "My smoking career was a long time ago now. I haven't smoked in decades..."

"Oh... Why did you stop?"

Taylor laughed again. "Well, my dear, in my day, smoking was very bad for you. I did a lot of dangerous things when I was your age: smoking, drinking, drugs, fucking around -- but eventually I pulled myself together..."

"What? Was fucking bad for you in those days? I never knew that!"

"Well, it kinda depended on who you fucked, and how. I was an escort, did a lot of weird shit, pissing on guys and stuff --"

"Oh, how exciting! 'Escort' -- is that what you called a professional fucker in those days? I want to be one too! And my bestie loves getting pissed on!"

"Well, go for it, bitch! You're lucky to live in an age when that's considered respectable. And, you're doubly lucky to live in an age when smoking is good for you! I'd so take it up again if I could..." Taylor looked wistfully into the middle distance, before pulling herself back to the present. "But instead I'll do it vicariously through you, OK...?"

On stage, Harriet knew she needed to carefully calibrate her transition into smoking tricks. And so she started as Taylor had taught her, with a series of long nose exhales, head tipped back in profile, alternating sides so that fine twin streams of smoke flowed horizontally outwards in both lateral directions in turn, framing her voluptuous body perfectly. She progressed to preceding each nose exhale with a French inhale, thick waterfalls of smoke cascading upwards from her jutting lower lip into her nostrils before being lovingly projected out again.

By the time the tune had passed to the soprano saxophone, Harriet was ready for business. "Taylor," she had pleaded, "how do I do snaps? I just can't fucking get them right: all I get is misshapen clouds of smoke!"

Taylor laughed. "Many a great smoker has been stumped by snaps, Harriet. Don't be in a hurry now, we need to take this slowly..."

And so they did, week after week. Harriet learning how to hold a thick cloud of smoke in her mouth without inhaling it, curving her tongue back to her palate. "Patience, Hattie," Taylor kept repeating, "don't blow, just compress a bit with your jaw while letting that tongue gently drop forward -- then inhale smartly. Here, look in the mirror."

"Fuck, it's tiring. It's like the first time I ever gave a blowjob: my jaws were aching for fucking ages!"

"Well, the snap inhale is the blowjob of smoking, Hat: the girl doesn't necessarily gain pleasure from it herself -- but what she does get is a whole load of appreciation. Especially for male fetishists, snaps are like cumplay: you won't catch them dead doing it themselves, but if you want to show them something to get them hard there's nothing better!" And they both collapsed with laughter...

Now, however, six months later, Harriet's technique had progressed to the point where she could appear relaxed, almost casual about the way she released a swirling ball of smoke to hang just before her lips before opening wide and snapping the whole delicious thing deep into her throat. The audience loved it too, oohing and aahing at each smoke ball that disappeared into her, and positively ecstatic as she progressed to doubles, and even French snaps. You like watching my snaps, fuckers? Janey's sultry voiceover swirled around the hall. I like playing with my smoke, like I like playing with your cum. You want me to take your creamy white cum down my throat, fuckers?

The return of the original tune, now played mezzo forte by a horn, and doubled with multitonal acridity by a pair of piccolos, announced the arrival of the real Janey on stage. She was naked, her long dark hair loose down her back, her cunt-lips dangling glistening between her tight ass-cheeks as she knelt in front of Harriet and buried her face in her gash -- just as Harriet chain-lit two new cigarettes, flicking the old butt with fuck-you nonchalance across the stage towards the audience. Oh yeah, you wanna watch this bitch eat my pink while I smoke? the voiceover echoed round the auditorium. Shall I smoke two Pinks for you, you perverted smoking fuckers?

The audience's response was predictable. Now Harriet held two Cameltoes, one between two fingers of each hand, and was smoking them in alternation, each new inhale overlapping the previous one, so that smoke was pouring out of her nostrils at the same time as it disappeared in great creamy balls down her gullet. She did not wait to perform separate exhales, instead turning herself into a non-stop smoking machine, letting the rich precious creamy loads pour in and out of her lungs. Fuck, I'm getting high... Harriet thought to herself. And Jesus fuck, Janey you eat cunt so good! she thought, as her best friend's tongue snaked and slurped deep into her wet fuckhole. Now Janey's recorded voice was echoing through the speakers again: You like smoking when your cunt's getting eaten, fuckers? I love it. See me smoking two Pinks while this skinny bitch eats my pink?

The audience were roaring their approval now, as they jerked themselves and each other off in multifarious ways. Danica and Zara were kneeling beneath the judges' table on opposite sides of Jon Taylor's fat cock, slurping and licking and drooling as they fingering or dildoed their own cunts. And at the back of the hall, Bill the cameraman's cock, now coaxed into a full erection, was fucking in and out of Fuxmy Gopal's gullet as she gagged and dribbled and dry-heaved in appreciation, all the while pounding three fingers in and out of her wet fuck-hole.

A chorus of reeds took up the tune now, thick and rough and noisy, as Janey writhed her body forwards and upwards, Harriet sliding onto the floor beneath so her friend's cunt could splay across her upturned face. Fuck, she does taste good! Harriet thought to herself. Not wrong, Mikey... she added, as she rested her head back onto the stool and began blowing smoke into her bestie's cunt. She likes it when I smoke her pink while I smoke my Pinks! came the voiceover. You like seeing her cunt fill with smoke, fuckers? You like it when my bitch's cunt's on fucking fire?!

"Fuck yeah!" moaned the audience, as they stroked their cocks and slid their fingers into their own and each other's cunts. "Smoke that cunt! More! More!"

But Harriet had learnt by now to always leave the audience gagging for more. As a solo trombone took up the tune, Michael walked onto the stage, naked, his cock already huge and throbbing, a glob of pre-cum shining at its tip. Oh yeah, dig that trombone! moaned the voiceover. Want me to play it? Want me to smoke it? Want me to ram it down my fucking throat?

Soon Janey was lying on her back on the ground, Harriet's ass and wet cunt splaying into her best friend's face as she knelt in front of Michael's cock, chain-lighting another Cameltoe and carelessly flicking her two spent cigarette butts across the stage. "Oooh!" intoned the audience, as she blew one long thick cone of smoke across Michael's cock, watching it involuntarily twitch and jerk with pleasure. But now it was time for more tricks...

"OK, Taylor, help me! How the fuck do I do rings?" she had whined to her Australian mentor.

The latter laughed joyously. "Oh, rings! I so wish I could smoke again, just for that! Come on, smoke-slut, let's get you doing them properly! Now first, make like you're sucking dick..."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, make that mouth round, drop your jaw."

"Like this?" Harriet attempted to follow her mentor's instructions.

"Perfect: I can tell you're a proper cocksucker! You've got the perfect wide jaw. Now --"

"Perfect jaw for what? Smoking or sucking cock?"

"Both, bitch: they're two sides of the same coin! Now, make a little short 'oh' sound in the back of your throat -- like you're shocked, or like you're gagging on the aforementioned dick." She demonstrated. "Sometimes a little jerk of your lower jaw helps..." Harriet tried it out a few times without smoke. "Yeah, that's the idea," nodded Taylor. "Now, take a drag, fill your mouth with smoke, then try it..."

Now Harriet was doing exactly as Taylor had taught her. Michael's cock still bobbing and twitching before her face, she took a double drag, dropped her jaw to fill her oral cavity with as much smoke as she could, rounded her lips like she was sucking a very large cock, and began to fire thick wide smoke rings at her fiancé's cock. Fuck yeah! she congratulated herself silently, as each smoke ring, perfectly aimed, was speared by Michael's glans. The audience burst into rapturous applause.

The trombone tune had passed to the full wind band now -- loud, raucous and rude, as Harriet began her smoky blowjob in earnest, whilst grinding her ass into Janey's face. She was in her comfort zone now: she loved sucking Michael's cock, loved exhaling through her nostrils all over the shaft, loved it when he fucked the smoke out of her wide-open mouth. She loved gagging noisily on his dick as smoke fired in all directions from her face, loved dribbling and drooling onto his smoke-enwreathed cock, watching her spit, snot and smoke dangle and dance. The audience clearly thought it was hot too: they had all returned to fucking, sucking, and stroking off as they admired Harriet's ongoing smoky facefuck. You like watching that dick fuck the smoke out of my face? crooned the voiceover. You like watching that cock treat my smoky mouth like a cunt?

The question was rhetorical, of course. Harriet saw the fuck-ecstasy developing all around her, saw the three judges now so turned on that they had abandoned all pretense of professionalism, instead arranging themselves into an oral fuck-chain, Danica crouched on the judges' table sucking Jon's cock while Zara licked her asshole from behind -- and she knew she was on her way to victory. The original tune returned, now transformed into something glorious and triumphant by the violins, accompanied by the driving fuck-rhythm of the drums and horns. Harriet turned round, lifting her ass towards Michael: it was time to fuck. The bassoons and horns had joined the strings in their insistent crotchet pulsing, and Michael's cock joined them too, ramming hard and deep into his fiancée's cunt, as Janey crouched below to lick her clit and suck his balls. Harriet chain-lit another No. 9 Pink: she was smoking with ecstatic purpose now, her drags deep, her exhales full and long. Watch that cock fuck my pink like I'm a bitch on heat! intoned the voiceover. Now that smoky cock is pounding my cunt, fuckers -- filling me up with smoke and tar and poison. 'Coz I'm a filthy smoking fuckwhore!

If anyone in the auditorium had hitherto been holding back, all caution was now thrown to the wind, as everywhere around the hall cocks ploughed into cunts and the venue was transformed into a seething, fucking throng. Bill was sitting on his chair again, chuckling at his Viz, but Fuxmy had seated herself on his cock, facing away from him so as to watch the show, while sliding her dark wet cunt up and down on his stiff pole and mouthing ecstatic obscenities under her breath. Zara and Danica were crouched on top of each other on the judges' table as Dr Taylor rammed his thick cock into each of their cunts in turn. As for Harriet and her friends, they went through one fuck-position after another as the volume of the music rose and the orchestration grew, Harriet chain-smoking more and more deeply and desperately, saturating herself in smoke and nicotine until her head swam and she saw stars behind her eyes.

By now, perhaps the only people in the auditorium who had not completely lost control of themselves were the ever-professional Miss Poussée and, by extension, her assistant Abdul Ahss-Faqr. In fact, the latter might have been completely happy to, like the judges, throw all caution to the winds and just fuck his boss to hell and gone -- but Polly Poussée, while content to stroke her colleague's cock off while watching the show, kept her beady and critical eyes always open and aware. Well done, Harriet, she nodded to herself, as Michael lay on the floor so that his fiancée could pound her cunt up and down on his cock, simultaneously blowing smoke into Janey's cunt as it lowered itself onto her face from above. Good rhythm, that's it, time your exhales for when his cock is deep in you. Now Janey, remember what we practiced, you go up while she comes down: that gives the fetishists the view they want of smoke being blown into cunt, that's it, nice...

It was then that the eagle-eyed Miss Poussée noticed some movement in the prompt corner. Gary the stage manager was seated at his desk, deftly managing all the lighting and sound cues they had agreed and rehearsed that morning, his Marlboro red dangling, as ever, from his lips. But sneaking along the back wall towards him were none other than Danny and Danielle. Don't disturb the SM, idiots... she thought to herself, before turning back to watch the stage, where now Michael was fucking Janey doggy-style while she ate Harriet's cunt, and Harriet was blowing smoke back into Michael's face.

Yes, excellent! Polly Poussée grinned, as all three of the performers slotted into the rhythmic groove of the music: Michael's cock-pounding still matching the crotchet beat, Janey's tongue fluttering in time with the triplet rhythm of the snare, while each of Harriet's long exhales marked the downbeat of a bar -- an exquisite triple-layered smoke-and-fuck pattern which grew organically from the increasingly ecstatic soundscape. Yet, despite the enchantment of the performance, Polly Poussée couldn't help noticing what was going on in the vicinity of the stage manager's corner. She paused her stroking of her colleague's cock to whisper, "Abdul, what's going on over there? Danny and Danielle -- what are they up to?"

By now, Danielle had reached the prompt corner, and was on her knees under Gary's desk. Miss Poussée saw Gary gasp with surprise as Danielle unzipped his fly in one rapid movement and lowered her head fully onto his cock. The girl's bare buttocks were just visible poking out from behind the mixing desk, barely covered by her short plaid skirt, and Gary shut his eyes in ecstasy, drawing deeply on his cigarette as he arched his neck back to revel in the sudden interruption of Danielle's throat caressing the full length of his shaft.

Now the trumpets joined the violins fortissimo, Janey was strapping on a pink dildo, and she and Michael were DPing Harriet hard: Janey on the bottom fucking her cunt while Michael pounded his throbbing cock into Harriet's tight asshole from behind. But Polly and Abdul were both watching the prompt corner with growing alarm. By instinct, neither of them had any desire to stop anyone from enjoying a good blowjob; but Gary seemed to be unable to maintain concentration on his job, as Danielle's head bobbed up and down on his cock, saliva coating his shaft all the way from glans to balls and dribbling off onto his chair. "Keep your eyes on your job, Gary, for Christ's sake!" muttered Polly.

Her concerns were increasingly apposite, as on stage Michael's cock was ready to explode. As the trumpets modulated sensationally upwards into E major, both girls lay on the ground face-to-face, tongue-to-tongue, both rubbing their clits furiously. Michael jerked his cock above them, while Harriet blew thick wide rings of smoke at it. Zara and Danica knelt on the ground in front of Jon, who was pumping his cock with one hand while caressing his balls with the other, as his semen coursed up his thick shaft towards his colleagues. And Fuxmy squealed desperately to her cameraman, "Fucking put the mag away, Bill, and come on me!" as she grabbed his cock and began desperately pumping it in front of her face. At the same time, Gary the stage manager seemed, Polly and Abdul thought, to have completely lost concentration. He was smoking his cigarette furiously, smoke pouring in and out of his mouth and nose, his eyes shut in ecstasy, his head arched backwards, his hips pumping his cock violently into Danielle's throat as she rammed her face back down onto it. Moaning and swearing under his breath, he was clearly lost in a smoke-and-skullfuck world of his own, completely oblivious to what was going on around him.

As the trombones and saxophones commenced their final climactic glissandi, Harriet knew what should happen, which they had rehearsed again and again to perfection. Michael was going to come: great thick jets of hot cum would spurt from his cock, first straight into her mouth, which she had already turned into a swirling creamy cauldron of hot smoke, then across her cigarette hand, then across both the girls' faces, splattering them in his cock-cream. Harriet and Janey were going to come too, their cunts spasming, their tongues tangling with ecstatic lust. You like watching that cock cum in my smoke? would bellow Janey's voiceover. Smoke and cum, cum and smoke -- I can't live without either, fuckers! Watch me drink it down, watch me breathe it in, watch me become smoke and cum: this is my meaning, this is my identity, I am the smoke whore, I am the smoking slut. Will you fuck me, and smoke with me, fuckers? And as the echoes of the final violent cadence of the Boléro rang out across the hall, Janey would release a great fountain of pee which would spurt high into the air, splashing across Michael's spent cock before splattering back down onto the girls' faces, finally drenching and quenching Harriet's cigarette butt.

That was what was meant to happen. But instead, in the blink of an eye, as Gary the stage manager seized up with the pleasure of his exploding cock, his cum spurting hard and deep into Danielle's throat, her accomplice Danny sneaked into the prompt corner and yanked a plug out of the wall. Polly Poussée saw it, and gasped with horror. Suddenly the music stopped, the voiceover ceased, the lights went out, and the spots went dark. There was a squeal of feedback from the sound system and a burst of sparks from Gary's control panel -- and then everything was silent.

Then began the panic. Gary came suddenly to his senses and leapt up. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he swore, as Danielle hastily but efficiently detached her head from his cock. On stage, Harriet, Janey and Michael screamed with dismay. The judges ceased their fucking. Fuxmy stopped jerking Bill's cock and squealed in alarm. And the audience was in uproar: the sound of panicking, screeching and bellowing filled the air, and performers and audience alike scrabbled and scrambled to find their way in the darkness. The only people in the auditorium with their wits about them were Danielle and Danny, who swiftly and silently made their way to one of the rear exits -- and disappeared.

But Polly and Abdul had seen them. "No you fucking don't!" bellowed Mr Ahss-Faqr, as he ran after them, his huge burly figure pounding out the door, his exposed cock still dangling and swinging before him.

It did not take long for Gary to reconnect the power and turn on the house lights -- but the finale of the performance had been ruined. Harriet sat on the stage howling with humiliation, her last cigarette forgotten and discarded, as tears poured down her face and her two fellow performers threw their arms around her in a desperate attempt to give comfort. Bill was filming again, as Fuxmy gabbled urgently at the camera, cum dripping from her lips and chin. The judges were hastily pulling on their clothes and demanding to know what was going on. And Danny and Danielle were both screaming in mock outrage, as Abdul Ahss-Faqr dragged them both back into the auditorium by the scruff of their necks. "Here are the saboteurs!" he roared. "Here are the traitors!"

*

It was at least an hour before the chaos subsided. Now the three judges stood on stage, fully clothed, their faces sombre. "Ladies and gentlemen, cocks and cunts," Jon Taylor began, "this is normally a moment of unalloyed joy for competition judges -- but events this evening have been somewhat tainted. First, it is to our immense regret and sadness to announce that Clytemnestra Fuckes-Dyckes and the team from Lady Eleanor Whorish School have been disqualified." There was a gasp from the audience. "We have conducted extensive interviews behind the scenes, and it is clear that two students from Kunt College were paid a considerable sum by Miss Ffuckes-Dyckes to sabotage Harriet Danes' performance. Clytemnestra and all of her party have already left the premises, and will not be returning."

A hubbub of shock and outrage rippled through the audience, silenced by Dr Taylor raising his hand and continuing: "Ironically, the happiest people today are likely to be those who have not actually won -- as they have emerged from this competition with both their performances and their consciences intact. I will ask my colleagues to announce the runners-up."

"Ladies and gentlemen," Zara took the microphone, "it is my pleasure to award third place in this competition to a pair of performers who were bold in presenting a scene which highlighted the eroticism of smoking, and the complementarity between that and the beauty of the female body. There's nothing quite as uplifting as a beautiful pair of female lips exhaling smoke across her tongue into a soft juicy pussy..." Zara paused for dramatic effect. "Sasha and Masha, would you please come onto the stage!"

The applause was warm, as the two slender beauties came up to receive their trophy, a beaten bronze replica of the cig-in-cunt image from the entrance lobby. They held it proudly aloft, before both taking deep inhales from their slender white cigarettes and giving each other a passionate smoky French kiss, eliciting a renewed ovation from the audience.

Danica -- her breasts, unusually for her, covered -- made the next announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, our second-place prize goes to a double act which demonstrated the technique of the smoking blowjob most impressively, communicating the complementarity of spit, snot and smoke in a manner which was profound and transformative. Transitioning almost imperceptibly from sensual cock-sucking to an utterly filthy skullfuck, Victoria demonstrated an excellent balance between sharing the pleasure she was gaining from sucking cock -- almost certainly aided by the sheer grandeur and suckability of her partner's huge dick -- and her total addiction to her cigarettes. Victoria and Paul, would you please come on stage!"

Cheers and enthusiastic whistling accompanied the pair's arrival on stage. Victoria was smoking, and grinning from ear to ear as she dragged Paul behind her by his cock -- which she had clearly been pleasuring again, as it was huge and hard, and dripping copious quantities of saliva. As they posed with their trophy, she knelt before him, looking upwards with her mouth wide open and churning with thick rich smoke, so that he could jerk a creamy load of cum into it and over her cheeks. The audience cheered again, as she turned towards them to show off her second smoky cumface of the afternoon.

"And so," announced Jon Taylor, "to the winners of this year's Smoke-'n'-Fuck competition. Harriet, Janey and Michael, would you please come onto stage?" Enthusiastic applause filled the auditorium.

"It is much to everyone's regret," continued Dr Taylor as the three performers joined the others on stage, "that, through no fault of their own, Harriet and her team were unable to complete their act. But, during the course of what they were able to show, they demonstrated such a command of their art that my colleagues and I have no hesitation in awarding them first prize. Harriet's mastery of the full variety of smoking fetish techniques really stood out today, ranging from gentle erotic tricks like snaps and rings, through cunt-eating, all the way to smoky deepthroating. But most impressively, she managed to bring these styles together, maintaining her superb command of the subtler aspects of smoking even while being DPed!"

Harriet stood naked on stage, Janey's and Michael's arms around her, quietly weeping tears of joy and sadness, pride and humiliation, in equal measure, as she gently smoked a Marlboro 100s Light. "And what artistry!" Dr Taylor continued. "Such wonderful pacing, all perfectly calibrated to the music, the lighting, the voiceover, building up in a superbly controlled manner to... well, to the climax which we never saw, but which we are sure would have been the fucking event of the year!"

The judge continued to drone on enthusiastically, but Harriet was not really listening. Lord Jesus, she was silently praying, thank you for today. Thank you for Mikey and Janey -- and Miss Poussée, and Mr Ahss-Faqr. And thank you for this competition. Teach me not to be angry with Danny and Danielle and Clytemnestra. Help me to forgive, and to rejoice in the wonderful gifts you have granted to me: to look forward, not back...

"Are you OK?" asked Michael solicitously, as they left the stage to the sound of yet more raucous applause -- which seemed, in Harriet's mind, to blur into the background.

She buried her stinking face into her fiancé's shoulder, exhaling a small gentle cloud of smoke. "Oh, Mikey," she wept, "I'm so tired, and so... overwrought. I just want to go home now, and have a nice gentle fuck... just us, you know? I'm tired of competing, I'm tired of the publicity, I just..." And then she burst into floods of tears.

And Michael and Janey held her tight.

To be continued...