Smoke Dreams: A Peek into the Tortured Soul and Mind of a Smoke
Fetishist


Author's Note:

What you are about to read is a letter I wrote to a talented
erotic story writer who posts his stories at a prominent smoking
fetish forum. I penned the following smoking fetish
autobiographical account originally as a response to private
message he sent to me—a message within which he related a
real-life story—an event that happened to him in high school. I
am not posting that portion of the private message here because I
don't have his permission to do so.

Where this story does relate part of my own, very real, personal
smoking fetish history, other aspects of this story involve
elements of fantasy.

At any rate: here is the response to my friend’s hot high
school story, within which I describe how a sick mind like my own
came to be so bloody twisted.

GT

PS—Dear reader—I am aware that this particular slant of mine,
concerning the smoking obsession, will not please everyone. After
all, we are individuals, each with our own likes and dislike.
However, differences in preference aside, what you are about to
peruse is a descriptive narrative, a brief history concerning the
evolution of my own personal devil.

And yet, another disclaimer: Contrary to the possible opinion you
may form concerning me personally after reading the following
narrative, I'd like to strongly state that I am by no means a
misogynist. My love , admiration and respect for members of the
opposite human camp runs deep. However, my self-admitted
"perversion" when it comes to this peculiar fetish/obsession of
mine is deeply seeded, and I would never consider actually
"playing out" the fantasies described in the story you are about
to read. My only hope is that you, dear readers, will find it in
your hearts to understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All through my impressionable stages of growth, including my high
school years, I attended mid-Atlantic, east coast Italian
parochial schools in NYC, as well as in the greater Philadelphia
area. We had nuns and priests, with a light seasoning of
sexually-active (I’m assuming) lay teachers. And even though we
did have our own set of early age fantasy/fetish-building fuel
going on around us, mostly due to the nature of the sexually
repressive times in which we were living, along with the
contributing religious factors involved within the community
which I have just described, nothing like what you’ve related
happen. At least, nothing like that ever happened to me, and to
the best of my knowledge, to any of my cohorts.

But I did grow up in those golden times during the late 50s
through the early/mid 60s. It was an indescribably steamy time.
These were the waning days of American society’s ongoing sexual
repression period—the days of innuendo. A time made hotter by
the mere implication of sex. For me, as a young boy, this was
also a period of time made hotter due to the fact that most women
(well, at least most of the women I knew) smoked, and smoked very
fervently! It was an era during which all sorts of
advertising—both print media and broadcast media, and not to
mention motion pictures—was liberally peppered with
subliminally, if not blatantly suggestive images of women
smoking. Little seemingly innocent, yet highly sexual scenarios
and vignettes working themselves out—spinning their
intoxicating, persuasive, pleasure-filled romance—up there for
all to see, on the big screens, the little screens, on the
billboards, and within the pages of magazines and newspapers.

For me, the psychological connection between the sight of women
smoking and sexual release was established quite early. This
personally felt link between cigarettes and sex goes as far back
as I can recall. Many years before the term “smoking fetish”
was ever coined—or at the very least, before it was popularly
used—the sight of women smoking aroused the beast within me. I
cannot pinpoint with any degree of accuracy when this obsession
began. But I can tell you that it is deeply seeded, and to this
day, still very strong.

Yes. Every time I’ve experience the sight, sounds and smells of
women partaking, i.e. women lighting up, the sight and sound of
the pop inhale as they take deep lung-expanding drags, and
especially the beautifully arousing sight of said women exhaling
their smoke in a pleasure-laced-but-totally-natural
fashion—whether it was happening on TV, in movies, or in the
flesh—my tent has pitched, and has always pitched big! And the
aroma of the smoke after exiting their lungs—that tantalizing
smell after the smoke has past through the portal of their lovely
lips to permeate the air—is nothing less than heaven. It is
like perfume to me!

Where media was concerned, even when this “innocent” act was
shown in a not-so-innocent way, or I should say ‘especially’
when it was shown that way, it weaved its magic spell for me. Do
you know what I mean? It was during those instances when they
would depict women playfully teasing men, using their cigarettes
as props, while at the same time employing their smoking
mannerisms with the intention of arousing and titillating.
Ah...and the provocative look I would notice brewing in many a
sexy femme fatales’ eyes…those hot moments when these
“loose” women were frequently shown naughtily blowing smoke
into a man’s face—that always had a devastating effect upon
me! As a matter of fact, it still drives me insane. That sort of
thing never fails to erect a granite-like statue in my pants. I
guess that latter aforementioned element—the not-so-innocent
portrayals of sexy vixens smoking—is part of what shaped the
“darker” facet of my fetish. I’ll describe what I meant by
“darker” in greater detail, later on in this letter.

As I said; through these early perceptions, much of my personal
neuroticism surrounding this particular fetish was directly
attributable to a seemingly ever-present element of sexuality and
sophistication which very purposely underpinned all media
production. Every time they depicted women smoking, it seemed to
be done in such a way as to emphasize a developing or established
character trait. Sometimes that sexuality and sophistication was
presented in a somewhat wanton manner, while other times it was
intended to just come across as innocent playfulness. Whatever
the intent, it “worked” for me as a budding, seriously
obsessed fetishist.

In those early days, the ever-present subliminally suggestive
message seemed to translate clearly to the women in real life, as
well. This included the women around me. Whether wittingly or
unwittingly, these sexy sirens of my youth seemed to utilize this
‘arrow in their quiver’ by subtly applying their smoking as a
sometimes useful method to attract, incite, or otherwise arouse
the men around them. The ‘incitement’ aspect to their
behavior is key to explaining what started to happen in my head
early within my own personal smoking fetish history.

You see, my sexy young Italian aunts, my older sister, along with
many of my older female cousins, and quite a number of their
female friends, were early masturbatory fantasy fuel for my
fevered adolescent brain. Watching them smoke, and then mentally
filing those sexy images away for future devilish use, became a
favorite sinful pastime. And therein, for me, is where the
“dark” element began to take shape. Later, while beating off,
I would access those files, and run the images in a movie of
sorts for my pleasure. At first I would picture my sexy female
relatives and their friends simply just smoking…dragging and
blowing smoke. That would be enough to make the sperm fly against
the bathroom wall, especially when I envisioned their exhales.
For some reason, I started to time my explosive orgasm to
specifically coincide with the hot images of their
casually-executed exhales happening in my head. But then, this
movie production became more and more elaborate. Other scenarios
started to conjure in my fevered brain. I began to construct
little themed plays, short but steamy performances, to enhance my
hand jobs. I worked up little snatches of fictitious life-moments
using different story lines. Which scenario I’d use would
depend upon how I felt at that particular moment.

One play was based on a general concept. Its plot point was built
upon the consideration of a very strong possibility that these
sexy women might be totally unaware of the affect their smoking
was having on the men around them, especially young boys like me.
The idea that they were completely oblivious to the oral sexual
implications being communicated through their smoking was a hot
point for me. In my heated thoughts, different men, totally
aroused men desperately wanting release, would be popping stiff
boners inside their trousers while watching these hot women
dragging innocently on there cigarettes and then exhaling their
smoke through provocatively pursed lips. Sometimes these actors
would be nondescript males. Just indiscriminate sexually aroused
bystanders, caught in their web of seductive behavior, breathing
in their exhaled smoke. Sometimes they would be their boyfriends
or husbands. And then there were those other times when I would
step on stage as the totally teased, frustrated and overly-heated
male.

In other constructs of this masturbatory play, my aunts and
cousins weren’t being so innocent. I would imagine them
behaving in a lascivious manner—naughtily teasing their
subjects with their smoking—behaving like “bad girls,”
while pretending to act innocent. Their intent was clear; to
entice and yes, actually incite a passionate, perhaps even an
aggressive or impetuous reaction from the men around. However,
during these sick little trashy scenarios, the teasing women at
the center of my masturbation fantasy would end up getting
something for which they hadn’t really bargained. They would
misjudge the intensity of their target male’s reaction.
Suddenly, and quite abruptly, they would have an
“out-of-control,” sexually-charged, aggressively dominate
male to deal with, as well as having to cope with a situation
beyond anything they could have imagine. You see, it didn’t
really matter which concept I used. While conjuring the final
act, the outcome in these little fist-fuck vignettes always
played out basically in the same way. Much to the ladies’
chagrin, cum would be ejaculated and ejaculated hard. Where that
ejaculated semen ended up depended on the situation. If my male
subject was compelled to beat off in front of the hapless,
smoking lady, warm, sticky sperm would be launched to splatter
forcefully all over their surprised, distraught faces—with
copious spurts shooting across their lips as they innocently blew
smoke. Had I imagined my aunts or cousins being taken abruptly;
these once in-control, smoking women would suddenly find
themselves being forced to jack off the nondescript fellow’s
stiff dick (or my own) as a result of their incessant teasing.
They would be pushed roughly to their knees while continuing the
forced hand job on the fellow’s stiff boner. Hot sperm would
then either end up flying against their lips, again, lips poised
in the middle of ‘naturally’ exhaling their teasing smoke, or
all over their jacking fist, and all over the cigarette, which in
my mind would be clutched between the fingers of their jacking
hand, as well—that is if I had envisioned them doing the deed
while sitting next to the subject (or me) on a couch. The though
of these women holding their cigarettes between the fingers of
the very same delicate hand being used to pump off the stiff,
exploding dicks of men whose faces they were blowing smoke into,
always produced the effect I so relished! I would be firing off
right with these men, almost feeling and smelling the trashy
smoke blowing into my own face.

The “forced-and-sudden-impetuous jack-off” scenario had some
variations. Sometimes it would happen while both subjects were in
an ordinary social setting, standing face to face. I’d imagine
a conversation taking place between the two, a conversation
within which the woman of my dreams talks innocently about
“this-and-that.” She’s smoking, of course. But then, the
innocent content of the conversation starts to change. By her
encouragement, the tone and subject matter become progressively
more seductive and teasing, as she steps closer to her male
target. She’s blowing smoke in the male subject’s face on
occasion, and he is getting more and more sexually aroused, more
agitated. Then abruptly, out of the proverbial blue, she finds
herself in ‘the’ predicament, as a result of her teasing. The
male suddenly snaps. He hurriedly yanks down the zipper of his
trousers, pulls his stiff boner out through the opening, and
quickly forces her hand—the one holding the cigarette—to
grasp his throbbing tool. He seizes her by the upper arms for a
couple of reasons. One is to keep her hand in place, gripping his
erection. Another is to communicate a threatening, menacing
disposition. The ploy works, as she is now gasping in surprise
and building fear. He emphasizes his agitated state by shaking
her a bit. This in turn forces her hand to move back and forth
over his stiff flesh. The confident expression leaves her face as
this drastic turn of events unfolds, a situation spinning out
from under the control she once had. He glares into her now
distressed face. He growls in a voice choked with passion,
barking at her to jerk him off. Through gritted teeth, he tells
her to continue smoking and to keep blowing her smoke into his
face. As per his order, frightened, she vigorously pumps his
stiff, exposed flesh, periodically letting go of it to take drags
from her cigarette. They are standing close to one another while
this is happening, so when she does exhale, her smoke shoots
straight into his face. Her exhales are full and forceful, making
an accentuated ‘whoosh’ sound as she blows the smoke through
sensuously parted lips. His hips pump more insistently and
animalistic, each time she does this, until both of them are
breathing hard into each others face. Of course, as usual, this
play would end pretty much in the same manner. In the middle of
one of her forced exhales, while her smoke is being blown
straight into his face, hot sperm would be shooting into, as well
as all over her hand. It would be shooting on her
cigarette—because she is still being forced to jack him off
with the same hand—and all over her clothes. Oh, and always
clothed. Did I forget to mention that point? Both subjects of my
dream would always be fully dressed, with the exception
[sometimes] of the man’s cock. In some cases, it would be
“accidentally” shooting off within the confines of his pants,
while much to her dismay; she is being forced to jerk him off
that way. Then again, in other situations; the stiff appendage
would be out in the open, jutting angrily from an open zipper in
the midst of ejaculation.

At times I would play out a scene involving one of my aunts, and
the fictitious events that I imagine occurring during one of her
visit to our home while my mom, dad and sister were out. Aunt
Donna was my favorite. She was young, in her early 30s at the
time. Her looks could only be described as “intensely sexual”
and sultry. She quite resembled Mary Tyler Moore (Laura Petrie)
during the “Dick Van Dyke Show” era of the early 1960s. A lot
of women were intentionally trying to look like MTM through their
choice of attire and hair style, but Aunt Donna didn’t have to
try as hard. She was striking! At five feet six inches, weighing
in at about 112 pounds, she was magnificent to behold, with a
figure fashioned by the gods—36-25-36. She had this
particularly sexy pelvic tilt to her posture that drove me mad.
Her bottom kind of jutted back slightly, all firm and inviting.
When she wasn’t wearing a dress, she always wore tight blouses,
with tight, dark Capri-style pants, pants which accentuated her
hips, and that inviting curve of her gluteus maximus. And her
face...Oh god! If the other characteristic I’ve described
weren’t sexy enough, her face was her best feature! It was
breath-taking. To me, her visage was sex itself! Gently-set dark
brown “bedroom” eyes peered out from above Ssmooth olive
cheeks in a sort of quizzical look. The full, always
lipstick-painted look of her lips—coupled with the way her
mouth was generally set—spelled “trouble” no matter what
she was doing with them. Whether she was smoking or not, the act
was a highly erotic thing to behold to me . To tell you the
truth, I use to get erect just watching her eat! To me, Aunt
Donna’s face needed to be kissed constantly. And as imagined
through my “dark” side, to me her face absolutely screamed to
be coated in male juices—shot repeatedly upon by hot, teased
cum spurting out forcefully from a stiff, angry dick! And that is
just what would happen in my teen jack-off dream.

In my jack off dream, Aunt Donna and I would be sitting across
from one another at the kitchen table, chatting over cups of
coffee. My aunt would be smoking constantly of course, while I
spent most of my time trying my best to conceal a building lust
and frustration within my demeanor from her scrutiny, not to
mention struggling to shift the painfully stiff boner, which is
pushing out my pants into a tent shape. At one point, I would
imagine her accidentally blowing smoke into my face. In my
fantasy I’d see those lipstick-painted lips forming the
kiss-shaped exhale. I could almost feel the soft breeze as the
cone of smoky air hit my face. I could vividly imagine the aroma
of that intoxicating combination of perfume and lung-held smoke.
The sentence I was in the middle of speaking is abruptly cut
short. The room is eerily quiet with the exception of the sound
of her exhale. While her smoke is streaming into my face, I gulp,
stifling a moan. I am then fighting off the urge to stand up,
close the short distance between us, and just shamelessly jack
off my pants-covered dick right in her face! The silence is
broken when she begins to sense an element of discomfort in my
behavior, and asks me if I’m alright. I force out a reply,
assuring her that I am. She smiles, and then cordially requests a
refill for her cup.

I rise from my chair, and her eyes immediately fall upon the
protruding tent in my trousers. Another smile plays across her
face as she brings the filter to her lips for another drag. I
suddenly become motionless, uncomfortably aware of the fact that
she has not only noticed my predicament, but she is staring
unflinchingly right at the leaking head of my dick just as a wet
spot begins to spread out across the straining fabric. She
finishes her drag, and much to my amazement, my sexy aunt very
casually blows her smoke right onto the obscene protrusion
pushing out my pants. I almost cum right there in front of her,
but manage to pull myself together enough to walk by her, cross
the distance over kitchen floor in order to grab the coffee pot
located on the counter just behind her. While I’m behind her
and standing at the counter, I turn my head, watching her bring
the cigarette up to her sexy lips for yet another drag. She
can’t see me at this point, because she is sitting in her
chair, facing away from me. But had she decided to turn around in
those few moments, her eyes would be met with a startling sight.
Something snaps in my mind. I feel no longer in control of my
actions. With my dick on the verge of belching out a load right
in my pants, I unzip my trousers. I pull my aching cock out into
the open and begin jacking it feverishly. As my aunt starts to
exhale her smoke, I envision myself quickly walking around to her
side, jerking off the whole time. Once there, standing at her
left side, I shove my stiff boner directly across the front of my
Aunt Donna’s face, positioning it right there, in front of her
lovely pursed, smoke-blowing lips. I’d imagine it bouncing
obscenely up and down across the front of her face, throbbing out
cum, and interrupting the path of her cone-shaped, propelled
smoke, as one fresh pulse of semen after another begins firing
across the kitchen table. I could see her soft lips, and almost
feel the sensation of the rapidly moving smoke, powered by her
warm breath, blowing against the surface of my exploding dick.
Some massive spurts of semen shoot onto the table, while others
land with an audible plop into her cup. But most of my sperm
splatters across her lips and face during that deliciously nature
exhale, while my aunt’s facial expression changes from that of
a casual, relaxed appearance, to one of anguish and complete
astonishment, as she realizes what is happening to her. I'd
imagine her eyebrows arched high, her eyes partially closed, and
her brow furrowed in stress as my dick is obscenely bouncing up
and down, spitting sperm in front of, and across her lovely face.

But whichever scenario I chose during those teen masturbatory
sessions—either the facial or jack-off construct—crucial
imagined happenings became mainstay elements within the fantasy,
in order to ensure maximum orgasmic pleasure. 1.) The situation
had to have occurred as result of the woman’s smoking, with the
situation quickly spinning out of her control. Subsequently, the
female involved was always distressed or surprised, the
expression on her face conveying those emotions at the moment of
male ejaculation. 2.) The female involved was always in the
middle of either a drag, or in the midst of a full, natural
cone-shaped, exhale (preferably both) while said ejaculation was
transpiring.

I once described my “dark” slant to this fetish in great
detail within an older thread at smoking fetish forum to a member
who was lamenting about the absence in online porn of any of what
I just described. Here is what I wrote (if you don’t mind me
boring you a little longer?)

____________________________

"Glenn,

You have hit the proverbial nail on the head! What you [and
enatub] have so beautifully described--this particular twist to
the fetish, or 'kink, if you will--has been my obsession, as
well, and for as long as I can recall! You are so right about it
being absent from the material available on the web. I know,
because I have spent fruitless hours searching through the vast
archives of smoking fetish-dedicated cyberspace, employing every
search technique I could use, desperately trying to find, what
for me represents the quintessential depiction--be it video or
picture--of pulse-racing, instant hard-on-producing,
orgasm-launching pleasure.

Pardon me for being somewhat graphic and bold in my description
to follow, but I don't know of any other way of putting it. The
mere thought of a stiff erection being jacked off by its overly
enthused owner, and in the throes of orgasm, spurting ribbons of
hot cum all over the sexy made-up face of a woman (especially
across her mouth) just as her lips are pursed and in the midst of
a full-lung exhale drives me bananas! ...and I when I say
'exhale,' I mean a real exhale... That is; inhaled smoke being
blown out in a natural and relaxed, cone-shaped fashion. You
know? In a way she would normally be smoking at home, or in a
public space. Not showy or over-the-top... Not one floating from
her mouth, or being pushed out from just inside her mouth.

I imagine a scene where a sultry woman in full make-up, with sexy
earrings (another fetish of mine), is just nonchalantly having a
cigarette. Perhaps she's reading a magazine, or doing some other
mundane, innocent thing... At any rate; she's just sitting there
smoking and unaware--or, is acutely aware and is just secretly
teasing--that she is having an effect on some poor slob near her.
His boner grows longer and harder within his pants watching every
pursed-lipped exhale executed by this sexy woman. At some point,
he just can take it anymore, and his urges get the best of him.
As she's taking a drag, he walks up along side of her while
extracting his near-exploding cock through the open zipper of his
pants. Before she's aware of his presence, and before she has
time to react, he's standing next to her there. With his crotch
now at her head level, he's vigorously jerking off his stiff
cock, which extends out perpendicular to her lovely face...and as
she exhales, he's shooting off... That's it. Look; I know how I
sound...I know it's kind of specialized, but it's a fantasy
happening in my head.

You're right. None of the smoking porn producers approach this
particular kink. None that I have found, anyway. Now, in the past
on the web I've found fictional stories describing such
goings-on, but I've never come across anything close in the form
of a more visually graphic depiction such as a jpeg or (be still
my beating...heart) a video! If you have one...I'd LOVE to see
it!

At any rate; I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone
in this, shall we say, "slight perversion." Isn't it funny how a
sexual fetish creates sub-fetishes within some of us?

Yours, Me

PS - To add to that scene I described above... while he's
continuing to shoot off, she continues to nonchalantly smoke...he
cums on her fingers, mouth and cigarette as she's taking another
drag...okay, okay...I'll stop!"
_________________________________________________

As I had mentioned in the archived post above; there are several
sub-fetishes to my smoking fetish. Jewelry is one of them,
especially earrings. Bracelets and other bangles float my boat as
well, but earrings really do it for me. Make up and hot lipstick
is another. Women with dismayed or distressed faces… Just
thinking about these elements combined with the main smoking
fetish obsession makes me stiff. As a matter of fact, imagining
make-up and earrings/jewelery being coated in sperm, while being
worn by a sexy smoking woman makes me want to stop writing at
this point, and take a wet trip down memory lane.

So, in essence, I thoroughly understand where you are coming from
with your prospective. That’s why I find your writings so hot
and erotic. Keep ‘em flyin’ my friend. I look forward to
reading future offerings.

At any rate; that’s an unsolicited look into my sick mind. And
again; my apologies for over-sharing…I mean REALLY over-sharing
with this previous rant! Hope I didn’t bore you too much.

Yours,

GT

_____________________________________


  
Smoke Dreams-A Peek into the Tortured Soul and Twisted Mind of a Smoke Fetishist