I Love You Just The Way You Are

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Sunday, August 25th, 2019

“Björn… Björn! You’re staring! Are you with me?”

I realized that my friend Gökhan was trying to get my attention by waving his hand in front of my face. Bewildered, I looked at him and responded:

“Yes… Yes. Of course.”

“So… what did I just say?”

“You said my name. Twice.”

“Before that?”

“I… I’m not sure. Could you repeat it?”

“Yes. How far do you want me to go back?”

“I don’t know.”

Gökhan shook his head and put the cigarette he had just rolled between his lips.

“You were paying zero attention to what I’ve been saying for the last couple of minutes. I wonder why?” he said with a sarcastic smile and lit the cigarette.

Gökhan knew me. So he didn’t really wonder why. He knew that I’d just spent several minutes staring at the blonde woman three tables over who was now butting out her Gauloises cigarette in the ashtray while talking to the guy she was with.

It was a warm Sunday evening in late August. We were outside our favourite cafe on Kastanienallee in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg, each enjoying a large mug of Flensburger draught beer.

“I don’t get you, man,” Gökhan went on. “You have the world’s prettiest and smartest girlfriend, who should, by the way, be here any minute now. And still you are completely lost staring at some strange woman, who is maybe a seven, where Astrid is a nine or a ten. But the strange woman happens to smoke a cigarette in a way you think is just so sexy.”

That was my situation right there, I thought. Gökhan just nailed it. He continued:

“Let’s face it, Björn. You have a smoking fetish.”

“I don’t know… You make it sound like a diagnosis. Like I’m sick.”

“Well… I don’t think you’re sick. But it is a diagnosis. You do get sexually aroused from watching beautiful women who smoke cigarettes, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“But you have a non-smoking girlfriend. And that’s a problem. If you insist on having a girlfriend who smokes, you should let Astrid go!” Gökhan suggested.

Astrid and I had been together for almost a year. She was 25, one year younger than Gökhan and I, an anthropology student at the Freie Universität, beautiful with her long blonde hair, her long legs, reasonably sized boobs, pretty face and sweet smile. She was bright, healthy and extremely sporty, running competitive cross-country. She was passionate in bed. Even her parents were nice.

“I love Astrid. I’m not going to let her go.”

“Then stop staring at women who smoke!”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Or get Astrid to smoke for you.”

“That’s impossible. You know that.”

“Have you tried?”

“Not directly. No. But you know how anti-smoking she is.”


“And I wouldn’t want to ask her to harm herself. She should want it herself.”

At that moment I spotted Astrid running up the street in her running gear. I waved to attract her attention and she slowed down, walking to our table.

“Hi!” she smiled, catching her breath. She hugged Gökhan and kissed me on the mouth. Her taste was fresh and natural, her smell flowery in spite of her slightly sweaty condition. She hesitated before sitting down.

“Ehhh, would you mind taking this chair?” she asked Gökhan. “It’s just… your smoke blows this way.”

Gökhan immediately got up to offer Astrid his chair.


Gökhan and I exchanged meaningful glances.

“What were you talking about?” Astrid asked, now seated on the chair Gökhan vacated.

“You of course!” Gökhan smiled.

“Would you like a beer?” I asked.

“No thanks. Just some water. I’m getting up early tomorrow morning. So I won’t stay long.”

Did I mention that I had an extremely dedicated and disciplined girlfriend who got up early in the morning and made sure to get her sleep at night?

I got the water for Astrid and we chatted for about 20 minutes before she left to go to her own apartment to get her healthy sleep. She invited me for dinner at her place the following day, though, kissed me and waved at Gökhan. And then she was gone.

“Would you really like her to start smoking, Björn?” Gökhan asked as soon as Astrid was out of earshot.

“As I said, I don’t want to harm her.”

“No. But if she started to smoke because she wanted to, you wouldn’t try to stop her, would you?”

“No. I guess not. If it’s her decision.”

“It would be sexually stimulating for you to watch Astrid smoke a cigarette, wouldn’t it?”

“Very much so!”

“You fantasize about her giving you a blowjob while she smokes?”

“All the time!”

“And about her sitting on top of you with your dick in her pussy and a cigarette in her mouth?”


“Because you have what…?”

“I have a smoking fetish,” I admitted in a low voice.

“Did I ever tell you that we do research on nicotine replacement therapies down at the Charité?”

Gökhan was studying to become a pharmacologist at Berlin’s leading hospital kilis escort so he was involved in all kinds of pharmaceutical research.

“No. And I don’t exactly need a way to help someone quit smoking, do I?”

“Just hear me out, Björn. We’re working with this new generation of nicotine patches that make a person absorb nicotine through the skin instead of smoking.”


“Normally the patches are used to decrease a smoker’s intake of nicotine. With the ultimate goal of turning him or her into a non-smoker.”

“I know what nicotine patches are.”

“But what if we reversed the process? We could use the technique to introduce a non-smoker to nicotine and slowly increase the dosage.”

“What’s the point? I don’t have a nicotine patch fetish.”

“I know. The use of patches is not the goal. But once we’ve stepped up the dosage far enough, the next natural step will be to start getting the necessary nicotine by smoking it.”

“So you want me to put patches on Astrid to make her want to smoke? Don’t you think she will ask me why I glue patches to her skin?”

“She probably would. But the patches are not the point here. The point is the active ingredient. The nicotine. And its contact with the skin.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the nicotine could be fed through a piece of clothing that she wears on her skin every day. Like her… panties.”

“Astrid’s panties?”

“Yes. I believe you have access to Astrid’s panties, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. I have my hands inside them every other day.”

“Fine. Then bring me… let’s say… seven pairs of her panties to the lab. Just for the first week’s entry-level dosage. Then I’ll apply the exact right amount of nicotine in a way that will make sure that it is absorbed in Astrid’s organism as she wears the panties. After a week we increase the dosage until we have reached a level where she’s likely to want to become a regular smoker if given the opportunity.”

“But won’t she be mad at me when she finds out?”

“Does she have to? I think this way she will want to smoke all by herself. She won’t know that you helped the process.”

“I don’t want to harm her.”

“You can’t have it both ways, my friend. Here on my tobacco pouch you can read what harm smoking can do to a human body. Read that and then decide if you want to satisfy your fetish or protect your girlfriend from the risks of smoking. I mean, there are heavy smokers who live to be a hundred.”

I emptied my beer mug and pondered the suggestion in silence for half a minute. I imagined Astrid sensually enjoying a cigarette. The image became so strong inside my head that I couldn’t help saying:

“Let’s try this!”

Monday, August 26th, 2019

The following afternoon I spent a fortune buying seven pairs of white Sloggi panties — Astrid’s brand and colour of choice. I washed them and met Gökhan at his lab at five.

“Maybe it’s an intimate question, but does Astrid shave… I mean her pussy?” Gökhan asked, very credibly playing the role of a scientist in his lab coat.

“Well… she trims it. Why?”

“It’s just… we need to find spots where there’s no hair. But the front wouldn’t be a good place to apply the nicotine anyway. We don’t want any skin irritation around her pussy, do we?”

“Skin irritation? Does this stuff cause skin irritation?”

“Well, it’s a known side effect. Nicotine is basically a poison that has to penetrate the membrane of the skin that does, in some cases, get slightly irritated.”

“Does it bleed?”

“No. It won’t bleed. It might become red and itchy. But we’ll just apply it to the back of the panties… Of course we can’t totally avoid the back and the front to touch when we fold them. But most of the stuff will enter through her butt cheeks where she won’t be that sensitive.”

Gökhan was applying a clear liquid to the first pair of panties with a brush.

“So there is the skin irritation? Any other side effects?”

“Actually yes. She might become a little light-headed. Maybe she’ll get a headache or feel nausea. And she could have trouble sleeping at night. But then you’ll be there for her, I imagine?”

“Sure I will.”

“But don’t worry. It’s nothing dangerous. It’ll all go away once her body’s got used to the nicotine.”

“Okay. That’s cool.”

“Yes. Of course the side effects will probably return each time we increase the dosage.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing here?”

“Oh yes. Absolutely. I can assure you that Astrid will be a regular smoker within two months. Maximum.”

I wondered, for a moment, if we were really doing the right thing. But then the strong image of Astrid enticingly smoking a cigarette came back to me.

Within a few minutes all seven pairs of panties were back in the plastic bag I brought them in. I put them into my backpack and left on my bike for my dinner date at Astrid’s apartment.

While she was busy preparing a delicious veggie pasta meal, I excused kıbrıs escort myself to go to the toilet. Instead I sneaked into her bedroom and replaced the top seven of her neatly stacked white Sloggi panties in the wardrobe with the seven new ones prepared by Gökhan. I put Astrid’s nicotine-free panties into my plastic bag in order to eventually have them prepared with next week’s increased dosage.

While we ate in Astrid’s kitchen, I thought of the nicotine that would start flowing in her bloodstream from the moment she put on a new pair of panties the next morning, starting the process of addicting her to nicotine. Later, during sex, I couldn’t help thinking what it would look like if Astrid were smoking a cigarette while riding my dick.

Thursday, August 29th, 2019

Our next date was a trip to the cinema on Thursday. Late in the afternoon Astrid texted me to cancel. She’d got a headache. I called her immediately and suggested I come over. She didn’t want me to. Just wanted to go to bed, she said.

“This was meant to improve my sex life. Not cancel it,” I complained to Gökhan over two mugs of Flensburger at our usual cafe.

“Patience, my friend, patience. Everything goes according to plan. I told you about the side effects, didn’t I?”

Saturday, August 31st, 2019

On Saturday Astrid cancelled her planned running trip in the Grunewald forest with her team. Instead we spent the day in bed, binge-watching Netflix. Astrid was wearing nothing but a T-shirt and — importantly — her panties. She was fidgety and irritable and only ate half her favourite pizza. While she was peeing, I replaced the seven top panties in her wardrobe with seven new ones, prepared by Gökhan with an even higher dose of nicotine.

At one point she put my hand on her chest:

“Feel my heart. It’s beating so fast. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel so strange.”

I hugged her, kissed her and asked her what she wanted to do.

“I just want to go to bed. To sleep,” she said and liberated herself from my embrace, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Later she was tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

The next morning I watched her pick the right panties from the top of the stack before she went off to uni.

Wednesday, September 4th, 2019

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked Gökhan the following Wednesday as we were having beers in the Kastanienallee. Astrid just cancelled our date because of a bad headache and said she wanted to go to bed and that I needn’t come by.

“Absolutely. This is exactly according to plan. Remember we are adding small amounts of… well… poison into Astrid’s blood. The nicotine is not a natural part of her body. It’s sending her signals that something is wrong. You know… headaches, dizziness, restlessness, insomnia, irritability.”

“That’s so true. But I want to spend time with her.”

“Sure. Just be patient. We’re not even two weeks into this. And the human body has a wonderful way of adapting to new conditions. After some time the nicotine in Astrid’s body will be the new normal and the side effects will diminish or disappear. Trust me. I got these for you.”

Gökhan picked up the plastic bag with seven newly prepared pairs of Sloggi panties from his backpack and handed it across the table.

“With a higher dosage?” I asked.

“Yes. At the moment we’re increasing the nicotine dosage towards a level that is natural for a regular smoker. The more we increase the dosage, the more likely Astrid is to want… to need to smoke cigarettes once we stop supplying her with nicotine through her butt,” Gökhan explained as he was rolling himself another cigarette.

“Should I change the panties already?”

“Let me see… You made the last exchange on Saturday. And now it’s Wednesday. It’s a bit early. But if she keeps cancelling your dates like this, I don’t know how often you have a chance to make the exchange. And the sooner we increase the dosage, the better for your sex life, right?”

Saturday, September 7th, 2019

The next chance came on Saturday. Astrid and I went for a long walk along the Mauerpark and around Prenzlauer Berg. She didn’t complain about any headache and seemed happy enough, though maybe a bit distracted or restless. Maybe she had finally adapted to the dosage and it was time to increase it.

“Your place or mine?” she asked as we got up from our table at a cafe about halfway between our two apartments.

“Well… yours!” I suggested, knowing that I needed to get to her wardrobe and place the panties that were at that moment hidden at the bottom of my backpack.

“We haven’t been to your place for a while,” she protested.

“I know. But it’s messy. I’d rather be at your apartment.”

“Okay,” she succumbed and we started walking kırıkkale escort in her direction.

I smoothly replaced the panties while she was cooking and later we had great sex during which I couldn’t help fantasizing about her smoking during the act.

“Björn!” she said afterwards in bed.

“Astrid!” I replied.

“I want to show you something.”

She moved the lamp from the nightstand onto the bed and shone it onto her normally exquisitely nice ass.

“I have these red spots here,” she said.

“Yes. I can see that.”

“Do you think it looks bad?”

“No,” I lied. If my ass were all red like that, I would definitely see a doctor.

“You think it’s all right?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No… well yes… a bit. It’s itchy.”

“Then don’t scratch it. It’s probably nothing.”

“Don’t you think I should see my doctor about it?”

“No. I think you’ll be okay.”

I kissed her red ass and felt my dick was getting hard, ready for another delivery inside her. I switched into action and soon she seemed to have forgotten about the rash which, to be honest, covered almost all the skin that was normally in touch with her panties.

Monday, September 9th, 2019

“That’s completely normal,” Gökhan explained on the phone on Monday evening. Astrid just cancelled our date with the excuse of a bad headache. And the rash had got worse.

“Is there something we can do about it?”

“There might be.”

“I mean she talks about seeing a doctor about the rash. And the doctor might find out that her panties rather unusually function as nicotine patches.”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“Maybe. But could we interrupt the project for some time? Just to make the rash go away?”

“Not now, Björn. We’re in the middle of it. And we’re not yet at a nicotine level that will ensure a smooth transition into smoking cigarettes. Maybe we could use another piece of clothing? Her bras maybe?”

“That would just move the rash to her boobs. And I don’t want that. I really like them.”

“No. Of course not. And you’re right. They’re great. From what I’ve seen of them, I mean. What about her socks?”

“She’s got all kinds of socks and stockings. And it’s really hard to plan which ones she’s wearing. And the rash would move to her feet.”

“Right. Let me think… There is another possibility. We could switch to oral delivery of the nicotine. That would probably make it possible to reach the required dosage sooner.”

“Oral delivery? You mean pills?”

“No. You can’t swallow it. You need to dissolve it in your mouth to get your body to absorb it. You know nicotine lozenges?”

“I guess so.”

“Does Astrid like strong liquorice drops? You know Scandinavian style?”

“Actually yes. She tried them when we went to Sweden this summer. Why?”

“Because nicotine tastes bitter and spicy. A bit like pepper. You know the smokers who want to quit, they know what to expect when they suck a nicotine drop with let’s say mint or fruit flavour. But if you suck a sweet fruit drop and it suddenly tastes of pepper, you might get surprised and spit it out. And we don’t want that to happen to Astrid, do we?”

“So instead of the panties she can get her nicotine through these strong Swedish liquorice drops?”

“Yes. I think I can get my hands on some of these drops at a specialty store down in Kreuzberg. And then I can work on them at the lab sometime this week.”

Wednesday, September 11th, 2019

Astrid met me at a cafe in Mitte on Wednesday afternoon at five.

“I went to the doctor with my rash this morning,” she said when we’d sat down and ordered our latte macchiatos.

Exactly what I wanted to avoid.

“What did he say?”

“She. My doctor is a she.”

“Okay. What did she say?”

“Something really strange. She thinks I’m allergic to my panties.”

“You’re what?”

“My doctor thinks there is something in my panties that causes the rash.”

“What would that be? It’s 100 per cent cotton, isn’t it?”

“Well, they did smell strange.”

“I like the smell of your panties,” I smiled at her.

“Try to be serious!”

“Okay. What do they smell of then?”

“I don’t know. My doctor suggested that we send them to a lab for analysis.”

This was not good. A lab would be able to detect that — and with what — they were doctored at Gökhan’s lab.

“Did you send them to a lab?”

“No. I thought there was no point. If I’m allergic, I just won’t wear those. So I threw them out.”

I smiled broadly and bent forward to touch the soft inside of Astrid’s thigh with my fingers.

“Does that mean that you are practically bottomless under that short skirt of yours?” I asked seductively.

“Don’t!” Astrid said, removing my hand. “I have a headache. I’m not in the mood.”

There was a pause in our conversation as the waiter put our coffee on the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as he was gone.

“And to answer your question. Yes. I’m not wearing my underwear. I didn’t have time to shop for panties. But I need to. All my panties are the kind I’m apparently allergic to.”

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