Doreen asked for stories about her in open water with scuba gear. Here’s one idea.
CHAPTER 1: DOREEN’S FIRST OPEN WATER DIVE
Doreen was equal parts nervous and excited about her first open water dive. She was fresh off a divorce and looking to experience new things. She always loved the water, but getting scuba certified was not easy. She was a heavy cigarette smoker, and her dive instructor constantly told her she should quit smoking or not dive. But Doreen wanted to dive, and giving up cigarettes was not an option. She was 33 years old, and she’d been smoking since she was just 12. She currently went through almost 2 packs a day of Marlboro Menthol full flavors. She knew that her smoking had devastated her lungs, but her addiction to nicotine and tar was too strong.
Nevertheless, she barely made it through the training, and was going on the trip as a certified, newbie basic diver.
At 5’3”, she weighed 135 lbs. A lot of that weight was in her chest, her 34 D breasts. She had long, straight blonde hair and blazing blue eyes and she was quite frankly a knockout. She had 2 kids, and although she looked very young, she qualified as a MILF. Her pregnancies had not ruined her body; they had simply amplified her breasts and made her even sexier.
It was a big deal for Doreen, a burst of independence, for her to go on this trip. She showed up at the dock a little hung over, after a night out drinking with a few girlfriends. She had poured herself into a pair of skintight acid washed jeans which descended into her knee high flat sole leather boots and her matching leather jacket. Her hair looked great and her makeup was perfect. A Marlboro Menthol smoldered between her fingers as she approached the boat. She placed the filter of her cigarette between her lips, dangling it as she gingerly climbed into the hull.
CHAPTER 2: DOREEN ON THE BOAT
Two guys helped her onto the boat, eagerly making sure she didn’t stumble. This half day adventure had a boat captain, a divemaster, 4 males and 4 female divers. It quickly became obvious that Doreen was the only smoker on the boat. Doreen got a lot of smiles and welcoming warmth from the 4 male divers. The other three women were cold and standoffish.
As the boat made the short trip to the dive site, Doreen chain smoked her cigarettes. The divemaster commented on the danger of a smoker diving. Doreen sheepishly giggled, admitting, “I’m sorry. I’m a chain smoker. And I’m nervous. I can’t not smoke.” The other 3 girls sneered and didn’t bother to hide their contempt. The four guys didn’t seem to mind, and chatted up the pretty blonde with a huge chest wearing leather and smoking.
The divemaster then said that this was Doreen’s first open water dive. The four women would be diving first and the divemaster asked Lisa, Kerry and Jean to look out for and help Doreen. When he told them to buddy up, Lisa quickly volunteered to be Doreen’s buddy, which Doreen naively appreciated.
The site they were diving at was 30 feet deep and was chosen because there was a lot to see on the bottom including the skeleton of a wooden boat. They were in Pennsylvania, so the water was murky and cold, and there was a lot of trash on the bottom by the wreck. When they reached the site, they anchored and got ready.
The first-time diver Doreen got more nervous as they went, never letting herself be without a lit Marlboro Menthol. Her deep smoker’s cough was eliciting stares from the other divers, especially the women, as she coughed and took deep drags from her cigarettes.
Doreen's smoking intensifies when she's nervous. She takes a drag every few seconds, and each time, she seems to be pulling the smoke down past her lungs and into her legs. She doesn't seem to exhale at all, keeping all the smoke in her body. Her cigarettes last her only a few minutes and she lights one after another.
The other three women were awfully plain looking in the face, but obviously had bodies honed in the gym. They were dressed in loose clothes and sneakers, far more appropriate attire for a dive trip than Doreen’s tight jeans and leather.
Because of her looks and her body, Doreen was used to soaking up attention from men, and also to enduring cattiness from other women. She noticed the other women casting glares at her every so often. The palpable tension made her even more anxious.
CHAPTER 3: DOREEN DONS HER DIVE GEAR
Due to Doreen’s diminutive size, the only wetsuit which fit her was a vintage 1970s U.S. Divers smoothskin black shiny neoprene rubber two-piece suit.
Doreen took off her leather boots and then shimmied out of her painted-on jeans, revealing her skimpy bikini bottom. She kept her leather jacket on for warmth. It took a lot of effort for her to squeeze into the tight shiny black neoprene wetsuit bottoms, her most recent cigarette dangling from her lips. When she finally had them on, Doreen sat to rest, breathing heavily.
She finished her cigarette then immediately lit up another, took off her leather jacket and shirt, revealing her bikini top, which barely contained her D cups. She picked up her wetsuit top, a one piece with long sleeves, a beavertail and an attached rubber hood, no zippers. She said to the guy closest to her, “I’m sorry, but I know I’ll need help getting this on. Would you mind helping me?” The guy, Rob, unsurprisingly was very willing to help her.
Doreen took a huge drag, keeping all her smoke inside, put down her burning cigarette, and started to put on her wetsuit top. She got it over her head and started to shimmy her arms into the rubber suit. Rob awkwardly helped her as best he could, without completely feeling her up, as much as he wanted to. The two of them managed to get her arms fully rubbered up and got the top over her big breasts. Rob asked, “Want help with your hood?” Doreen replied, “Yes, but one second please.” She picked up her still burning cigarette and took another deep drag then put it back down and started getting her rubber hood over her head. Rob helped her tuck her blonde hair into the hood so that it perfectly framed her beautiful, heavily made-up face. Doreen tucked a few stray wisps of her blonde hair under the edges, smoothing the black neoprene hood down over her head.
“Thank you so much,” Doreen said, residual smoke wafting from her lungs and out of her mouth. She leaned down and buttoned up the beaver tail of her wetsuit top, encasing her womanhood in two layers of rubber.
Doreen’s heart was pounding as she grew more and more nervous about her first dive. The neoprene wetsuit was so tight, and her breasts were so large, that her chest felt constricted every time she tried to breathe. The suit was probably a size too small, but it showed off every great curve of her small, sexy body. The hood fit all the way around her head and onto her face. She was worried that the suit was too tight, because she was having trouble moving, but Rob explained that she would feel better underwater.
She felt even more short of breath than she usually did due to the tight rubber placing pressure on her breasts. The other three women noticed how weak and breathless Doreen looked. Kerry asked, “Not sure it’s a good idea to chain smoke right before a dive! You’re sure you’re healthy enough?” With smoke pouring out of her mouth, Doreen replied, “Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks.”
She sat down again and put on her lead weight belt, a yellow belt with 4 vintage weights, which rested comfortably on her rubber covered hips. She pulled her vintage oval facemask onto her rubber encased head and propped it up. She said to Rob, “I’m sorry hun, but could you help me with my tank too?” Rob of course was happy to do. Doreen put her burning cigarette between her lips while Rob helped her slip on her U.S. Divers single tank with a single hose regulator.
She asked Rob, “Is my air tank on?” He replied yes and Doreen took her cigarette from her lips while replacing it with her regulator. She took a few breaths. The tight wetsuit and her smoky lungs made it a little hard to fully inflate her lungs, but she was used to that. “Thank you, babe,” she said to Rob.
The other three girls were already in the water, waiting impatiently for Doreen. She stood up, a little unsteady in her gear and shuffled to the dive deck, where she dropped her black rubber flippers and slid her feet into them. Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest, and she tried to get as much nicotine as possible into her system to calm herself down, taking deep drags to finish her cigarette, without exhaling. She pulled her oval facemask down over her face. It fit her face perfectly, merging with her wetsuit hood, which wrapped around her forehead and her chin. She looked awesome, every inch of her body encased in skin tight rubber. The rubber hugged her legs, ass, crotch, arms, and her tremendous chest.
Doreen furiously dragged on her cigarette, burning it down to the filter, refusing to let the smoke out of her weak lungs. She reluctantly tossed her cigarette butt aside and put her regulator back in her mouth. The distinctive sound of compressed air started as she breathed in, the air from the tank mixing with the smoke in her dark lungs.
CHAPTER 4: DOREEN ENTERS THE WATER
Jean, from the water, yelled, “Don’t worry about our time, dive buddy. Make sure you’ve got enough smoke in your lungs.”
Filled with a jolt of anxiety from Jean’s mocking comment, Doreen stepped off the dive platform, one hand on her mouthpiece, the other under her air tank. As she plunged in, the cold water rushed into her tight rubber wetsuit. The infusion of the cold water, plus the tightness of the rubber suit around her massive chest combined with her dark smoky lungs rendered Doreen breathless. She sucked and sucked but couldn’t seem to get any air to her tarry lungs. Her beautiful eyes were wide with panic behind her facemask and her head thrashed side to side with her hand on her regulator.
Her cheeks hollowed as her tortured lungs pulled and strained to get adequate air from her tank, her chest heaving against the tight neoprene rubber suit which encased her chest and limited her inward airflow. Suddenly, she was able to get some oxygen. She tried to re-orient herself. Although her first few pulls from her tank had tasted exactly like smoke, she was starting to get some fresh air now.
Her heart was pounding, and her tarry lungs struggled to get air. Bubbles poured furiously from her mouthpiece and she was sucking down air at a fast rate, with short shallow breaths. Lisa saw the worried look behind Doreen’s mask and gave her the okay signal as a question. Doreen waited a few seconds but then signaled back that she was okay.
Doreen started to kick her legs, still shaking her head and holding her regulator to her mouth. Doreen couldn’t tell, but Lisa was giddy, smiling and laughing behind her mask. Lisa then swam over and took Doreen’s hand to lead her down. A ton of bubbles were leaving Doreen’s mouthpiece. She was breathing very heavily out of nervousness and simply the fact that she had no lung capacity, sucking on that air, trying to fill her smoky lungs.
CHAPTER 5: DOREEN’S BACKGROUND
To make any sense of what happened next, one needs some background. Doreen had a fairly rough upbringing. She was the only daughter of a single mom who raised her in one trailer park after another. Her mom was a heavy smoker, and even though Doreen had asthma, she sampled her mom’s Virginia Slims when she was very young and was addicted to cigarettes by the time she was 12. Her mother didn’t bother trying to force her to quit, and Doreen cycled through Virginia Slims, to Marlboro Reds, to Salems, to Marlboro Menthols. She was frequently sick and was constantly admonished by doctors about the danger of smoking as an asthmatic. She once tried switching to light cigarettes, since quitting smoking was not an option. She found herself craving more nicotine, smoking two at once, going through multiple packs a day, and eventually returned to her full flavors.
Doreen was the polar opposite of an athlete. She had never played any sports, and always got a medical excuse to get out of phys-ed. Obviously, with all her smoking, she had no lung capacity at all.
Doreen was sexually active by the age of 12 (the same time she became a full-time heavy smoker) and got pregnant when she was just 16. She married the guy, a biker and heavy drinker, and they had another kid. It wasn’t a happy marriage and Doreen wished she hadn’t settled down at such a young age. She finally got divorced when she was 30 and gradually started living the party girl lifestyle that most girls live out in their early 20s. She and her kids moved in with her mother and Doreen started stripping, which proved to be fairly lucrative given her body.
Doreen was now smoking two packs of Marlboro Menthol full flavors every day. Her teeth were stained a pale yellow from all the tar. She has dealt with a smoker's cough since she was a teen, because of the weakness and vulnerability of her unhealthy lungs. In addition to smoking very strong cigarettes, and a lot of them, Doreen is a very deep inhaler. She seems to try to take in as much smoke as she can with each drag. Sometimes she exhales long, sexy plumes, but most often, she hardly exhales at all, keeping all of that warm smoke in her body.
Of the many guys she dated as a stripper, Steve was one. He was very handsome, in great shape and owned a fitness center. At first blush, one wouldn’t think that they would match up. But Steve had fetishes for “bad girls,” girls in heavy makeup and leather, who smoked cigarettes. He was tired of being with the gym girls who were constantly working on their bodies. The sex with them was boring.
So when he saw Doreen in the strip club, a blonde with blazing blue eyes, D cup tits, wearing thigh high leather boots, a leather bikini, and smoking like a chimney, he knew he had to have her. Two pregnancies and decades of heavy smoking had affected her body, but she still looked young and was definitely a MILF.
Steve, who had never smoked, loved Doreen's habit. He loved the taste of her smoky breath and mouth and spent a lot of time kissing her deeply. As they made out, he could hear her lungs struggling for air, and smell her smoky breath as she tried to breathe through her nose.
What Doreen didn’t know was that Lisa was Steve’s ex-girlfriend. Lisa and Doreen had never met, but Lisa, a fitness instructor, knew exactly who she was -- the trailer trash slut who stole her man. The Steve/Doreen relationship didn’t last, but it ruined the Steve/Lisa relationship. Lisa had done her research and was not accidently on this trip; she was there because Doreen was there. She had brought along her workout buddies, Kerry and Jean.
CHAPTER 6: DOREEN ATTACKED BY THREE GIRLS
As Lisa led Doreen by the hand, Kerry and Jean were already inside the skeletal wreck of the boat. Lisa stopped and signaled Doreen to enter the wreck first. Lisa followed. Doreen felt even more nervous inside the dilapidated hull; she was getting claustrophobic and her heart was pounding. Lisa pulled on Doreen’s tank and Doreen turned around to face her. Lisa put both her hands on Doreen’s chest, pushing her back toward the remnants of the hull. Doreen’s metal tank clanked loudly as she was pushed against the interior of the hull, and her eyes went wide behind her mask again, not knowing what was going on. Kerry and Jean swam over and jointly pulled down on a rotting wooden structural beam above Doreen. It came free, Kerry, Jean and Lisa got out of the way, and the heavy wooden beam descended, crashing onto Doreen’s legs.
It descended quickly and pinned both of Doreen's legs to the bottom of the wreck. Her left leg was caught right at the lower thigh, while her right ankle was trapped next to it. Doreen had sexy, skinny legs, and her soft, unexercised muscles were useless to protect her. The beam plowed into her left quadriceps and tore at her right ankle.
With her arms restricted in the tight wetsuit she couldn’t reach down to rescue her legs. It felt like her knee was being torn apart inside her rubber suit. Pain shot through her and as she weakly thrashed around, her legs became more mangled. Raging bubbles continued to stream from her regulator.
Her eyes registered extreme fear through her facemask. Her lungs were burning like they never had before, trying to cough, causing her body to spasm. As a two pack a day smoker, she was no stranger to being out of breath, but now she was certain she was dying. Doreen's screams were muffled by her mouthpiece and the muddy water. Her rubber hooded head thrashed wildly from side to side.
Lisa floated in front of Doreen, an unmistakable grin showing in her eyes through her facemask, while Doreen’s face registered panic and a plea for help. Lisa then grasped Doreen's wetsuited neck with both hands and squeezed tightly. Doreen's air tank was still working, but the air could barely get through her constricted windpipe as Lisa locked in the chokehold. Lisa's grin broadened as Doreen's panic increased. Doreen’s hands went to Lisa’s wrists, but Doreen was not even remotely strong enough to free herself from Lisa’s death grip.
As Lisa choked Doreen, she also shook her violently. Doreen’s legs, trapped by the wooden beam, couldn’t move, but her head thrashed around.
Lisa had no interest in going to jail for murdering Doreen. She didn’t want to drown Doreen, she just wanted to hurt and scare her. She knew Doreen’s smoky lungs were struggling to get compressed air from her tank anyway, and Lisa just made it worse. She would strengthen and loosen her grip on Doreen’s rubber covered deck, closing Doreen’s windpipe and then allowing it to open. Even when Lisa loosened her grip, Doreen got just enough oxygen to stay alive, but not a decent breath of air because of her weak, smoky lungs. Her respiratory system was in agonizing distress.
Those dark lungs spasmed as her breasts heaved in her rubber suit in an effort to breathe. Doreen was coughing and gasping in her mouthpiece trying to get air to her smoky lungs. Lisa violently shook Doreen, holding her by the neck. Bubbles by the thousands emerged from Doreen’s regulator. Doreen’s wetsuited head arched backwards and thrashed around.
As Lisa continued to strangle Doreen, Kerry and Jean noticed two wooden oars in the wreck. It was Kerry’s idea, and she signaled Jean to grab hold of the oars. With Doreen’s legs trapped and Lisa choking her, her whole body was defenseless. Kerry jammed her oar into Doreen’s exposed crotch, grinding it with all her strength. The skintight rubber of Doreen’s wetsuit did nothing to protect her vulnerable womanhood.
Jean swam up next to Lisa and used her oar to grind into Doreen’s bulging tits. Jean was jamming her oar into Doreen’s rubber encased breasts just as Kerry was assaulting Doreen’s pussy and Lisa was choking her.
Doreen was panicking. Her senses were bombarded with pain: a very sharp pain in her pussy, a deep pain in her tits, and blinding pain from her injured legs. And, Lisa was limiting the amount of air she could get to her smoky lungs. She had no control over her rubber clad body, which shook and trembled. Her head, encased in the wetsuit hood, was rolling around as she tried to get air. Her tar infested lungs were on fire, and she felt herself about to blackout. Her eyes were wild with fear behind her mask and her body started convulsing.
Lisa checked Doreen’s air level and saw that she was dangerously low. She signaled Kerry and Jean that their job was done. Kerry and Jean hid the wooden oars as the three athletic women swam out of the wreck and to the surface, leaving Doreen trapped in the wreck, barely able to breathe.
At the surface, the 4 guys and the divemaster were getting ready to get wet. Lisa yelled, “A beam fell on her and Doreen got trapped in the wreck. She needs your help.”
CHAPTER 7: DOREEN IS RESCUED
The male divers quickly got to Doreen, checked her air supply and knew they had to act quickly. She was still conscious, but her face registered terrible fear, and her tears and smudged makeup were visible behind her facemask. Her head thrashed from side to side, one of her hands on her mouthpiece and the other down at her crotch. Her chest heaved with each frequent breath. She was struggling to get enough air from her tank which was nearly empty.
Two of the guys easily lifted the wooden beam off of her legs. A little bit of blood floated up in the water. The wood had ripped through her wetsuit and cut her legs. The other two guys lifted Doreen up by her armpits and swam her upward. Doreen was totally helpless and limp, her wetsuited head dangling down.
Rob got out of the water first and was joined by the boat captain on the dive platform. Together they took Doreen’s limp body by the armpits and brought her topside. They took her regulator out of her mouth, and she started hacking violently. Her smoky lungs were struggling to absorb air. When they removed her facemask, she was sobbing in between coughs, moaning. Doreen couldn't catch her breath.
They removed her air tank and weight belt, but because of the cold, they left Doreen in her rubber wetsuit for the trip to shore so she didn’t go into shock. Rob held Doreen’s wetsuited head and Doreen started to calm a bit, her tears stopping. "Let your lungs relax, honey. You've got all the air you need." Doreen’s wetsuit was ripped at her legs and she was bleeding, but not profusely.
As they headed for shore, Doreen gasped out, “Cigarette! I need a cigarette! Please!” The guys all said no, but she was insistent, and finally Rob got her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her leather jacket, placed the filter between her lips, and lit her up. Doreen dragged deeply, coughed, but started to calm her nerves.
The 3 other girls were very annoyed and complained about the dive being cut short. "What is she doing diving with that smoker's cough?" "What does she expect after she's chain smoking cigarettes right up until we dive?" At the same time, between coughs, hacks, and drags from her cigarette, Doreen gasped out “My legs! My crotch! My chest!” Kerry said, “Can you believe she’s smoking just after she almost drowned?”
An ambulance was waiting at the dock, and Doreen, still in her wetsuit, was placed on a stretcher and transported to the hospital.
Amazingly, she had escaped serious injury. Her neck and her chest were very deeply bruised. Her crotch had serious contusions. Her left thigh had a deep, huge bruise on it and her right ankle was seriously sprained. It would be weeks before she could walk normally again.
Although Rob and the other guys had an idea of what really happened, Doreen never told the authorities that she had been attacked. She had good reason to fear the repercussions of pressing charges.
