I’ve got a smoking fetish, and I’m not at all ashamed of it.
Why wouldn’t I have a smoking fetish? I’ve got a panty fetish. I’ve got a lot of fetishes, really.
Smoking and sex go hand in hand. It’s there at the end, a nice way to calm yourself from the shaky orgasm you had earlier. It’s there at the beginning, catching your eye as a stranger wraps their plush lips around the tiny cylinder.
I mean, that’s how I find my women, anyway. Or the strapping John Wayne figure at the bar who has a whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other. Guess I’m just lucky I’m in a state that hasn’t totally banned smoking in bars, because damn, seeing that smoke on the exhale gets my motor running.
And when I’m doing it, I love that feeling. My lips wrap around the filter and I suck, deep, getting all that nicotine deep in my lungs. It charges me up like foreplay, a kiss from a long-lost lover. When it’s really good, I can feel my eyes start to roll in the back of my head.
Up here in Alaska, there are other things to smoke, too. It’s a different form of foreplay, less formal than a cigarette. The two of us sit on the couch while we take a hit. Maybe you’ll breathe in, and on your exhale, you’ll shoot it straight into my mouth. I love it. We’re not only pressing lips together but sharing air.
Easy enough to do with cigarette smoke, but somehow, weed makes it a little more relaxing. It’s easy just to melt into the other person, smoke between us. Mouths meet and explode with clove flavor as he and I take our time with the sex, building up to how good it feels while my partner is inside me. I throw my head back while I ride him, taking another hit.
He gasps for me to give it to him.
How can I say no to a face flushed like that? I lean down and exhale into his mouth, letting him shotgun my smoke. My pussy squeezes on his dick as he cums inside me, my breath inside him.
Nothing’s more sensual than a smoke.
Want to play with my smoking fetish, and have both of us smoke?
Call me for some of that sweet phone sex!
