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.
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.
Wow! Pardon me while I wipe the drool from my chin. I wish I had a similar high school story to relate, but unfortunately, all through my impressionable years, 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 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 smooth olive cheeks in a sort of quizzical look. The full, always lipstick-painted look of her lips—and the way her mouth was generally set—spelled "trouble" no matter what she was doing with them...whether she was smoking or not. 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 appearance, to one of anguish and complete astonishment, as she realizes what is happening to her.