Triple Your Pleasure

By Slaphappy

A passion for mules is one of three fetishes that
have obsessed me since I can remember. The other
two: watching a woman try to start a car with a
starter pedal, and watching women smoking, especially
when they take cheek-hollowing drags. I don't remember a
particular incident that triggered any of them, but
I do remember being aware of all three as early as the
third grade.

Until recently, I'd enjoyed them surreptitiously and
vicariously--like most of us, I expect. Luckily, I now
have a beautiful and accommodating SO, who has more
than a touch of the dominatrix in her. With a little coaching
from me, she has found a way to combine all three.
She doesn't do it very often. but whenever she does,
it's worth waiting for.

First a little background. My SO's not a smoker, although
she experimented briefly when she was a teenager, and
knows what to do and how to do it with style. I didn't
want to her to become addicted to nicotine just to satisfy
my fetish, so we came up with a solution that works for both of
us. I made some really long (ca. 250 mm.)
cigarettes that are mainly filters. We've got the ratio of
filter to tobacco adjusted so that barely any smoke comes
through. That way she can take multiple drags without removing
the cigarette from her lips--she's taken as many
as eight in a row before exhaling--and she doesn't need
to hold it with her fingers, except when she brings it to her
lips or takes it away. She can pull as hard as she wants without
burning her mouth or filling her lungs with tar, and
I can enjoy watching her.

Now to the car part. Her routine is our own variation on the
venerable hard-to-start car scenario, because it
involves a starter pedal as well as a gas pedal, and because it
also involves mules and really long cigarettes.
Starter pedals were pretty common about 50-60 years ago. Many of
the GM and Chrysler Corp. cars from the
late 30s and early 40s had them; so did the Willys Jeepster.
There were two kinds of starter pedals. Plymouths,
Pontiacs, Dodges, etc. had a long (ca. 4-5") rod positioned a few
inches above the gas pedal. Chevys had a
shorter and fatter pedal positioned off to the right of the top
of the accelerator. In all of the cars, the gas pedal is
the long, old-fashioned kind that is attached to the floorboard
at the base. To start the car, you turn on the
ignition, then step on the starter. When the engine starts, you
transfer your foot to the gas and rev the engine as
necessary.

The great thing about starting a car like this--for slide and
pedal fans, at least--is it's all footwork. While the foot is
trying to kick the car into life, the hands and body are free.
There's no need to turn the ignition key while pumping
the pedal. Just imagine a beautiful foot, slipped inside a mule,
trying to crush the pedal through the floorboard. I
do--more than I should, probably--and every once in a while it
becomes reality. In the warm months, my SO and
I can spend some time in a '41 Plymouth business coupe (which has
the starter pedal above the accelerator). She
likes to drive it once in a while—or at least get it running.
Here's what she does when she goes to start it.

Before going out to the car, she dresses in a tight crop top and
a very short and tight miniskirt, and slides her feet
into mules with 5" heels. Depending on which pair she chooses,
there's only a thin band or several narrow straps
across the top to hold her foot in place, so she's almost
barefoot and five inches taller. She has slender legs and
small feet, which the shoes really enhance, in my opinion.
Miraculously, she is able to walk gracefully in these
mules, despite their almost total lack of support. It is a treat
to watch her walk to the car with her hips swaying
and listen to the shoes slap against her heels.

Just getting in the car is a production. I open the door for her.
She steps on the running board, turns, and slides
elegantly into the driver's seat. She's quite petite, so she
needs to sit on a couple of pillows to be high enough to
see over the hood. She stretches out as she slides the pillows
underneath her fanny, a gentle preview of what's to
come. After she gets nicely settled, she takes the ignition key
out of her purse, puts it in the ignition, and turns it
on.

Then she pushes in the cigarette lighter and takes out one of her
long cigarettes. When the lighter pops out, she
puts the cigarette in her mouth and applies the lighter to the
tip. She takes several sharp pulls on the cigarette;
each time her cheeks quickly hollow. When she feels the smoke
beginning to come through, she takes a long drag
that hollows her cheeks even more. She keeps pulling on the
cigarette while she replaces the lighter, then, without
taking the cigarette from her lips, she takes one or two more
quick pulls, then a second long drag as she steps on
the starter. Only after her first try at starting the car does
she remove the cigarette and exhale.

Watching her smoke and start the car is a real show. Between the
pillows and the adjustment of the seat, she can
barely reach the accelerator—she has to wear a shoe with a very
high heel in order to floor the gas pedal while
keeping pressure on the heel. So, as you can imagine, she really
has to stretch to reach the starter pedal. The
pedal, which has a spring to return it to its ready position,
provides some resistance. So as she steps on the
starter, she has to push back against the seat to get the pedal
down to the floor. When she does this, her back
slides up the seat until her fanny comes off the pillows.
Meanwhile, her head tilts back as she pulls on the cigarette
and her shoe dangles down a little while her foot's pressed on
he starter. I don't know where to look—at her
face, or at her foot. It's too much to take in at once.

Almost always the car has not been run for a while, so the engine
never catches immediately. When it finally does,
she sits back down while she quickly moves her foot to the gas
pedal and pumps it rapidly. Despite her fancy
footwork, the car stalls, so she ends up repeating the starter
pedal/gas pedal cycle a few times, typically with little
success. She coordinates her smoking with her footwork, so that
she takes a series of drags each time she steps
on the starter.

Her repeated failures seem to make her increasingly frustrated,
especially if she floods the engine. When that
happens, she waits a few minutes, lights up another cigarette,
then tries a more vigorous technique. She grabs the
steering wheel with both hands and thrusts her right leg out. As
she kicks down hard on the starter pedal she rams
the heel of her mule down on the gas pedal. To get maximum
leverage, she pushes herself away from the steering
wheel and against the back of the seat. At this point, she is
completely extended--almost as if she were standing
on the starter and gas pedal and trying to drive both of them
through the floorboard. Usually the engine is slow to
catch, so she often has to hold this position for several
seconds. Her frustration also shows in her smoking: she
takes even more collosal drags, until it looks like her cheeks
are almost touching. When the engine finally turns
over, she quickly sits down, exhales, and pumps the gas pedal as
fast as she can. Sometimes she can keep the
engine running. More often, however, it stalls again, so she
repeats her leg thrusts, pulling hard on the cigarette
each time. When the car finally starts and stays started, she
attacks the gas pedal with a vengeance, revving the
engine several times as she takes out her frustration with her
foot. Only when she's released it all does she put the
car in gear and drive off.
If you like to watch women in mules, or women trying to start a
cranky car, or women who take cheek-hollowing
drags when they smoke--or all three, as I do--then you should
really enjoy this scenario, especially when it's
performed by a woman like my SO, who does it with so much vigor,
despite her delicate build, and with such
evident pleasure beneath her apparent frustration. She's a real
artist and I'm eternally grateful that she's sweet
enough to indulge me.

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