Cathy, a brown-skinned brunette with cute, thick dark-brown hair tells us this little story. Cathy is between 12 and 13. She's a little shorter than middle-length I would guess, and she's a bit "big", though not fat. Maybe someone would say she looks a bit like Amy at the "Twink's Little Stars" web site? Now, let's listen to her...

"Ever since I was 11, maybe 10, my Mom has let me smoke a cigarette or two with her, well maybe three then. Maybe she's started to feel a bit alone since the divorce, I don't know, so she likes having someone to smoke together with. Anyway, when we've had dinner, Mom always lights a cigarette before doing the dishes. She always looks so beautiful, I think, when she smiles at me, puts that cigarette between her lips and drags on it. I've always wondered if all smokers do like she does, I mean, after sucking on the cigarette, she seems to hold the smoke in her lungs for such a long time before releasing it.
In the evenings, she usually gets a little smoker's cough. A few times during that after-dinner-cigarette, she turns her head slightly and cups her hand over her mouth and coughs. It sounds so warm and nice to me, and there's an exciting sound inside her, like if something moves inside her, and I guess that's what's happening. Well, I mean I KNOW that's the way it is, before I once asked her. I love that cough of hers. Anyway, after a short while, she smiles at me expectantly and takes another cigarette from her pack. Usually she holds her own cigarette between her lips and lights the second one with the first before ... before handing it over to me.

In the beginning, she told me not not try to breath in after sucking the smoke into my mouth, but after a few months of "smoking" one or two cigarettes per day without inhaling, she carefully started to teach me to inhale it. Oh, I coughed and coughed the first weeks, but sooner or later it was if like I started to get used to it. I felt dizzy and even sick in the beginning from whatever it's in that smoke, but after a while I started to just feel well. Mmm, from that point, I could really enjoy a cigarette with Mom. I remember the first time I nose exhaled, Mom looked like she was going to weep and she kissed me on the tip of my nose. "Ohhhh, your sweet, small lungs", she said and embraced me hardly.

Well, she finishes her cigarette and lights a second while I, much slower, enjoy mine. Again, she coughs two or three times during smoking that cigarette and sometimes I see her swallow after having coughed. I use to finish my cigarette with a l-o-n-g drag and nose exhale. The smoke won't get out of my lungs in one exhale, I need to exhale another time before it's gone. Mom says my third exhale also contains some smoke after those long drags, but I don't know if she's kidding or not.
I guess Mom smokes around five to seven cigarettes later on in the evenings while I do my homeworks. One of my highlights during the days is when it's time to go to bed. After I have brushed my teeth and so on I go to bed with just a little red lamp turned on, spreading a warm light from a table near my bed. "Mom, time for my good-night cigarette", I use to shout so Mom can hear it from the TV room at the bottom floor. She then comes upstairs and sits down on the bed. She lights a cigarette and drags on it, smiling and with her eyes locked into mine. She releases the smoke, first through her mouth and with her head turned to the side so I can see just a little smoke drift from her nostrils in the light from the lamp. She then turnes her head back and nostril exhales the remaining smoke, and I always try to inhale some of that smoke that has come from the bottom of her lungs, through her nostrils and then over me. Then, she usually has to cough - the later in the evenings, the more she has to cough. She uses to quickly hand the cigarette over to me and cover her mouth and nose with both her hands and cough two times, each one of them with a number of deep, almost rattling hacks. I give her the cigarette back, and she takes a new, long drag, let the smoke fill her lungs for a while before exhaling it to the side. Again, she then gives me cigarette and starts to cough. Quite often, this second cough is even ... even wetter, I would describe it and she swallowes hardly before caressing herself over her chest, still smiling at me. "Is this how you want to sound", she asks me some evenings, seriously. "You see, my lungs aren't the best anymore. I'm filling them with more and more tar, and I will cough more and more. My lungs are so hungry and so eager to get more and more cigarette smoke in them, and I have no intention to try not to satisfy them." I then take a drag on the rest of the cigarette, keep the smoke in my lungs for a while before exhaling. "Of course, this is what you want, too", Mom can continue. "I wasn't that serious."
I use to finish the cigarette and Mom then crushes it out in the ash-tray she has brought before giving me a smoky, warm good-night kiss and turning off the light. On her way downstairs, she almost always gets a coughing fit, and coughs with deep, hard rattlings. I use to imagine what she looks like, carrying the ash-tray in one hand and probably having the other hand over her mouth. I always hope that she will end that coughing fit with a sort of final, deeper hack that sounds like her body is turning inside out. Sometimes, maybe two times out of five, she satisfies my fantasy. I have no idea how much she smokes and coughs later in the evenings, because I fall asleep and I've always slept very well the whole nights.

Now, I got to tell about the mornings. Mom's days begin with a long, bad coughing fit. Her body starts to cough as soon as she wakes up, and until she has waken me up, she keeps the cough back. She almost every morning comes into my room, coughing all the time but with her mouth shut. She hacks and hacks with deep sounds from her chest but she's strong enough to hold it back and to manage to keep her mouth shut. She tries to smile at me while she wakes me up by touching my cheek, then she kisses me on the cheek - still with that suppressed cough going on so I feel the smell of smoky air from her nostrils. As soon as I'm awake, she disappears from my room and rushes into the bathroom, which is the room opposite to mine at the top floor. Needless to say, she then lets her coughing fit loose and I lie back in my bed and just listen to her. She coughs and coughs, almost wildly, and several times I hear her cough something up and spit in the hand-basin. After a while, I can't resist leaving the bed to watch her. I go into the bathroom, and there she is, cupping both her hands over her mouth. Not up over her nose, though, she's just placing the hands over her mouth like to catch anything she might cough up from her smoky chest. Sometimes,... well... quite often actually, I put my arms around her shaking chest, or I give her some massage over her back or her chest.

After a while, I go down to the kitchen and start preparing the breakfast while she finishes her coughing fit and takes a quick shower. She comes down with a cigarette and smokes about half of it before we eat breakfast together. Her voice is sort of dark and raspy all the time, but in the mornings, she sounds like if there's a clumpse of something covering her lungs, her throat, everything, and she often clears her throat to be able to talk.

After breakfast, we always smoke a cigarette together. Her cough lasts for a little while in the mornings, I mean she has to cough a little every now and then. "Oh, you've been hearing and watching your Mom cough her lungs up your entire life", she sometimes says. "You see me putting my hand over my mouth and cough all the time. You know, dear, my lungs aren't the best anymore, maybe you should learn from it." I either respond by taking an even longer drag on my cigarette, or I ask her about her lungs. "Mom, what do your lungs look like", or "What do your lungs feel like", I can ask. Know what she says? She starts to smile and she says something like "I LOVE my black lungs", "I want my lungs to explode from my smoking" or "Mmm, I'll cough them up for you to kiss them". I just love when she says things like that. Sometimes, before it's time for me to brush my teeth and go to school, she lifts me up, embraces me hardly and whispers "Come on, give your Mom's lungs a BIG hug".

The only thing I really hate is when I leave the house and she starts to cough just as she shuts the door behind me. Those mornings, I can dream for one or two hours about that coughing fit, what she looked like, if she used one or two hands to cover her mouth and how it ended."