The Epiphany, The Video, Her Emerging Fetish, And The Vice-Principal -A Fetish Tale of Smoking, Masturbation, and Facials.
[An addendum to a previously published erotic story, by the author “Luthor,” entitled “The Reverend’s Little Angel.”]
A Short Story (with a long title)
By George Tyerbyter—aka Mick Carlo.
Dear reader – Yes; smoking certainly does cause cancer and leads to death. There’s no question. It is a fact. Nevertheless, for some straight men—while taking in the sight and scent of females as they indulge in this health-risking behavior—it also causes stiff, painful erections and forceful ejaculations. This fetish phenomenon is a product of psychological hard wiring built upon through past decades. While being provocative and sexually suggestive by nature, like it or not; its smoky seductive presence permeates pop culture. Read on at your own risk…
?Extra note from author:
Now, something needs to be addressed before the story continues. Your humble author does not like using the word “slut” because of its modern, blatantly misogynistic connotations. You’ll notice the absence of that term in this story when describing Angel. Where the word’s etymology is diverse, the present-day usage and implication conveys an ugly, mean-spirited, sometimes violent attitude of male superiority. At the core exists an ego-driven, male-centric tenet which is embarrassingly archaic. This writer finds it laughable. It has no place in this supposedly enlightened post-sexual revolutionary period of human development. It is only used by misogynists in order to bolster their massive egos, and it conveys an insecurity they feel which concerns a perceived loss of male control. If those who so cavalierly use the word think that they are doing so to describe a woman of “low moral character” who easily gives in to “trashy” urges of “loose” sexual origin; they are sadly mistaken. They are not fooling anyone. In reality it represents put-down claptrap frequently uttered by certain men in order to demean free-spirited women, while they further inflate their bone-headed egos. The truth is, we all are slaves to our libidos from time to time…we are all “sluts” at times when it comes to our urges. When we use the Victorian stick some insecure men judgmentally utilize to measure a perceived lack of “virtue” they see in women whom they deem “sluts,” when you use that stupid criterion, men are THE worse “sluts!”
↩️ (from the previous part)
…You see; Angel knew of a certain weakness the vice-principle had. And to fully grasp what had happened, and what was about to happen, certain things need to be brought into the light…
About a week before this encounter with Mr. Hogarth, and only days after the lustful incident in the bathroom with Steven, Angel had witnessed a strange sequence of events transpiring in front of her high school. It had puzzled her at the time, but the meaning became apparent soon after. By sheer chance, enlightenment came to Angel through a series of flashes. These sudden acknowledgements instantly led to startling revelations, not only concerning her school vice-principal’s sexual secrets, but also went far in explaining Steven’s reactions during the encounter in their shared bathroom, while also providing an explanation for his behavior leading up to that sexually-charged morning. Psychologically speaking, in truth, these revelations also affected Angel’s id, forever changing her sexual appetites.
The sun shone bright in the early afternoon sky during another in a long string of abnormally hot spring days. Intermittent balmy gusts of wind lifted Angel’s fine blonde hair back from her face as she sat on one of the benches under the roof of the pavilion located in the park adjacent to St. Catherine’s High. This was Angel’s last study hall break of the day. She sat comfortably, smoking a cigarette while going over the notes for a test slated to happen in the next period. Angel wasn’t concerned about being seen smoking there because the roof of the pavilion, along with the trees surrounding the structure, provided a good shield around her. It was the idyllic place. This was the space where all of the students who smoked came to have a cigarette in relative safety. From this position, Angel could see the front of the school through the foliage, and she knew no one behind the classroom windows would be able to see inside the pavilion.
At one point, she looked up from her notebook and noticed two other female students just a few yards from her, closer to the school, standing together chatting in the sunlight. These students were girls with whom Angel did not associate. She did know that one of the girls was a senior named Joan. After a minute or so, the girl whose name Angel could not recall said goodbye to Joan and trotted off toward the front doors of the school.
Meanwhile, Joan remained outside. She stood there for a few moments, just looking around at the landscape, her long, brown hair flowing in the warm breeze. Joan then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her book bag. She shook a tapered 100 from the pack into her hand, placed its filter between her lips and lit the cigarette, taking her first drag. Not knowing Joan personally, Angel tried to guess whether the girl was stupid, brave, unaware, or simply just crazy, smoking in plain view, right in front of the school.
Settling on crazy as the explanation, Angel sat forward, taking a drag from her own cigarette while she looked up at the school through the fluttering leaves of the trees. It hadn’t occurred to her at the moment that the windows of the administrative offices on the second floor faced out from the brownstone facade. But this fact soon became apparent moments later.
After her initial light-up and first drag, Joan tilted her head up slightly and exhaled her smoke straight into the air. Angel’s eyes followed the stream of smoke as it formed a cloud which rose past a set of windows on the second floor. But these weren’t just any classroom windows, Angel suddenly realized, as her eyes stopped and began to focus on a lone figure standing behind the glass. She immediately recognized the vice-principal’s face. It was Mr. Hogarth standing there peering out the window, looking right at Joan as she brought the cigarette back up to her mouth for another drag.
Oh Christ, Angel thought. She’s in for it now!
Within that brief moment, Angel considered yelling a warning to Joan, and she was just about to do so. However, there was something in Hogarth’s facial expression that made her pause. He stood at the window almost motionless, his face somewhat slack. She could detect a daze in his eyes. There wasn’t a hint of anger showing on his face, which would have been what Angel expected to see. No. He wasn’t angry at all. Instead, much to Angel’s bewilderment, a part surprised, part pleasured look seemed to show in his expression.
It was about then that Angel noticed the motion Hogarth’s upper right arm was making. It was moving back and forth as he stared out at the girl. The window sill came up to around his stomach area, so Angel had no conception of what he might be doing with his hand.
Perhaps he’s scratching his leg? she guessed, but, it just seemed odd.
Then as Joan’s lips pursed and began blowing another perfect ever-expanding, cone-shaped stream of smoke into the air in front of her, Angel saw Hogarth’s eyes close about half way. At the same moment, his head tilted back ever-so slightly, his mouth gaping open. If Angel didn’t know any better, she could swear Hogarth was somehow enjoying the sight of this student breaking the rules.
Joan took a few more drags while Angel studied this phenomenon. She watched Joan continuing to casually smoke, and studied the vice-principal’s reactions to this innocent, albeit illegal, exhibition. Angel took note of the fact that Mr. Hogarth’s arm kept moving in much the same manner throughout all of this, only occasionally becoming more erratic, especially when Joan would bring the cigarette to her lips. The movement noticeably increased when she would exhale her smoke.
Then, with one final drag and a full exhale, Joan dropped the spent cigarette to the pavement. After crushing it out, the girl made her way back into the school through the front doors.
Angel watched Mr. Hogarth bring both of his hands up to the window sill. Grasping the edge, the vice-principal leaned heavily forward against the sill, almost as if he were exhausted. His head slumped low for a moment, and then shook back and forth. He raised his head up, and looked straight out into the park with a vacant stare in his expression. Both arms then dropped down from the sill and were now pulled in slightly, his hidden hands doing something Angel could not see due to the obstruction of the building’s facade. Angel could see him draw in a deep breath. And then, after letting it out in an exaggerated exhale, he retreated into the shadow of the room, no more to be seen.
Angel didn’t know how to interpret this event. It just didn’t make sense at the time. Through-out the course of that day, and through the next couple of days, she checked the school bulletin board for Joan’s name to appear on the detention list. But it never did. She waited that day and the next to hear of any suspensions or expulsions through the grapevine. But again, nothing. How did Joan get away with what would be a major infraction? Also, what was up with Hogarth’s reactions at the window that day as he watched the sexy student smoke her cigarette?
No. None of this made any sense to Angel.
More to come.
Links to all parts thus far ⤵️