Smoke and Silencebysaturswing©
I have always felt fortunate that as a man with a smoking fetish, my desires can be realized in public. I am always on the lookout for beautiful smoking women and for as long as I can remember I have been drawn to this erotic image. It often fills my fantasies and I am thankful that I have had the good fortune of exploring this powerful fetish with past girlfriends. With the seemingly endless stream of smoking fetish content, I have also been able to fulfill my desires in private. However, nothing prepared me for what took place about six weeks ago.
After finishing up a lunch meeting at a local restaurant, I stopped at a nearby café for a quick cup of coffee before heading back to the office. Grabbing a large Americano and a newspaper, I strolled outside, found an open table in the far corner of the patio and sat down.
Glancing around, the crowd was made up of predominantly business people on their lunch breaks; I noticed a table about 25 feet away with two attractive young women in their mid-twenties, one short-haired blonde and one long-haired brunette, holding a very loud and animated conversation. They seemed to be relishing in the attention they were receiving which is my signal to make sure to avoid giving them any more. Subtlety is what I find attractive. This changed quickly however, as I looked up from my paper just in time to see the brunette, a long, cork-tip held between her teeth, lean over to give her friend a light.
The blonde leaned into the lighter and cupped her friend's hands to block the non-existent wind. A strong, cheek-hollowing drag followed by a no-hands inhale as she leaned back into her chair. I actually thought I saw her shudder from the pleasure coursing through her. She struck me as a committed smoker who hadn't had a cigarette for way too long. She started laughing and mouthed something to her friend. In trying to read her lips I think she said, "Fuck, that felt good."
The brunette was a relatively new smoker, still a bit awkward on the light up. I have always found this especially attractive as there is certain earnestness in newer smokers. They tried smoking, they liked it and they want to look as if they are experienced. They are the ones you will see giggling with their friends, practicing French inhales and smoke rings. Once lit, she took a relatively small drag yet held the smoke in her mouth, as if to do a snap inhale. She tried but didn't quite have the timing down. Her friend noticed her attempt and very deliberately executed a perfect snap, letting the smoke linger longer than usual in her open mouth and then aggressively sucking it deep into her lungs. She looked pleased with herself and motioned for her friend to mimic her. The brunette did, and with a purposeful look, pulled off a very nice snap of her own.
Of course, all of this is going on while I am pretending to read my paper. I could have had it upside down for all I knew. I continued my sidelong glances, especially towards the short-haired blonde woman. If she didn't have the fetish, then she knew someone who did. Certain women enjoy their smoking in a way that goes way beyond just getting some nicotine into their bodies. This woman understood. Soon, they were down to the last drag and they quickly became uninteresting to me again. I can look past a lot of things if a woman smokes well.
I went back to enjoying my paper and coffee. The outside patio was now full as people came and went on the warm, California afternoon. As I was reading about yet another corrupt politician, I had the sense that someone was standing close by. I looked over the top of my paper to see the back of a petite woman, dressed in a nicely tailored suit. She had straight, black hair that fell well past her shoulders. She had a latte in one hand, a shopping bag in the other and a black briefcase on a leather strap draped over her shoulder. I could see that she was looking for somewhere to sit. As I was involved in the article I was reading and wouldn't feel the need to make small talk, as well as the fact that there was an extra chair close by, I half-stood and asked her if she needed a seat. She quickly turned to me with a thankful yet exasperated smile simply said, "Thank you."
She looked like she was in her early 30's. She was Asian and my immediate assumption was she was Japanese. She was petite, maybe 5'2" and slim. Her suit was a tailored, a dark grey, pinstripe number with a white shirt opened so the collar spread out over the lapel. She was a business woman no doubt, but with a creative flair. Maybe marketing or advertising. Cool, not stodgy. And very, very pretty.
I asked her if she needed a hand. She gave a short laugh and said she was OK. I gave a polite smile and went back to my paper. I am not the kind of guy to start hitting on a woman just because circumstances brought us together. She needed a place to sit...there was an extra chair. No big deal. But still...
She rustled around getting situated, carefully setting the shopping bag on the ground while letting her briefcase drop without much care. She started rummaging through the case and giving a quick glance her way, I saw her pulling out a paper as well. I then heard an audible sigh as she settled in to enjoy a little "downtime."
So we sat in silence together, reading our papers, sipping our coffees. Actually, there was something very nice about have her there. I had been married and had numerous long-term relationships and one of the things I most enjoyed sharing with my partners, was sitting in a café and relaxing. Being alone, together.
"You're FUCKING kidding me!" screeched the blonde at the nearby table, shattering our quiet and causing both my table guest and I to look up from our reading. The brunette responded with an equally loud and equally obnoxious, "Swear to fucking God!" And they both laughed that kind of laugh that was a little too loud and lasted a little too long. You know the kind. The laugh that says, "Look at me!" Well I'll tell you what. ..I will look at you as soon as you light up another smoke. In the meantime, settle down, huh?
My tablemate looked at me almost as apologizing for the behavior of girls who are in need of attention. It wasn't really judgmental but I could tell she had a certain opinion about how to behave in public. I gave a little laugh and said something benign like, "Too much coffee." She chuckled and said, "Good thing they're not drinking tea." Great response. She's quick with a sense of humor. She had a sweet voice too. Not girly and not curt. Just nice.
"Well..." I said, trying to think of something witty and charming when all I could concentrate on was how ridiculously attractive she was to me. "I've already had six martinis today and they're obnoxious even by my standards." OK, maybe not the best but she laughed.
We started chatting in a very relaxed, casual way. I found out she worked in creative development for a large company, moved to town about six months prior after living in Seattle. She asked me a few question about myself and we continued on in an unhurried and very relaxed way.
"Hey, you got a light," the blonde bellowed to the table next to her made up of a man, his wife and their 8 year old daughter, dressed as if they were from a European city on vacation and trying to enjoy the American café experience.
"Does anybody have a light," she yelled even louder, causing her brunette friend to break into laughter. I took this as my two-fold opportunity. I politely excused myself from my tablemate and reaching into my pocket for my lighter, walked to the girls table. Without saying a word, I flicked my lighter and held if in front of her, silently, looking directly into her eyes. Like something out of a Bogart film. I think my stillness affected her somehow as she immediately demurred and slowly moved into the flame while cupping my hand with hers. She took a very long and deep drag, not letting the smoke billow out of her mouth as she puffed, but rather aggressively sucking the smoke deep into her lungs. A deep inhale followed with an alluring, "Thank you," before she slowly executed the smoke above her head in a cloud.
"What about you," I said to the brunette. "Are you smoking?" She instantly reached for the pack of Marlboro Reds sitting on the table and quickly put one in her mouth. I gave a little sense that she needed to hurry up, (girls that demand attention always respond to this) and she did so, pulling hard on the cigarette like her friend until she too, blew out a rich cloud of smoke, some of which found its way toward my face. She too said, "Thank you."
"See, "I said. "Isn't it nice to be polite?" With that parting line, I gave each a smile and slowly turned back toward my table.
"That'll keep 'em quiet for a while," I said to my new friend. She laughed and told me that was a very nice gesture even though she knew that I really just wanted to shut them up. We laughed about that as I sat back down.
The girls were speaking to each other in much quieter tones. I think they needed to be reminded that there are still places that people frequent because of a tranquil and communal feeling. Even their smoking became more mature, more sensual. The brunette especially seemed to really focus on the techniques her friend had been teaching her lately. She took great care in dragging on the cigarette in a controlled and powerful manner before letting the smoke pop out of her mouth before inhaling it strongly back in. After letting the smoke fill her lungs deeply, she let out languid exhales, trying to appear nonchalant but still enjoying seeing the smoke move away from her mouth.
I must have been staring. My friend suddenly says to me, "Looks like they are really enjoying themselves aren't they?" I was shaken back to reality and hoped she didn't think I was some sort of freak who she caught staring at two young smoking women. "Uh,yeah." I stammered, trying to throw a little laugh in there to ease my embarrassment. She was quiet for a moment when I noticed her looking at them as well, almost with a king of longing. She then said, "Kind of makes me want one too."
That little "ping" in my stomach triggered a stirring in my loins as even the thought of this woman smoking was enough to allow my mind to drift into fantasy mode; despite the reality. I think that many with a certain proclivity towards more non-mainstream desires can probably relate.
Thankfully, I was still cognizant enough to understand that if I were to lunge at my pack of cigarettes, rip one of the pack, shove it in her mouth, light it with shaking hands and then ask her to exhale in my face, I could just say "Goodnight Everyone. Drive Safely and don't forget to tip your waiter." I'd be toast.
"You don't really look like a smoker,"
"Oh really," she replied. "What exactly does a smoker look like?"
"Good point," I admitted. "I guess everyone has their vices, huh?"
"Yeah," she said almost whimsically. A silence fell between us. Not awkward. Just quiet. It was nice. I watched her sip her coffee and casually flip through the pages of an interior architecture magazine.
Sensing the timing was right, I casually reached down towards my briefcase, discreetly opened it and pulled out a pack of Camel Lights. There were two left.
With an over-the top, Humphrey Bogart impression I asked, "Cigarette?"
Thank God she laughed. Good. I was being a nice, fun goofball but also a bit of the adventurous bad boy. Have to stay balanced.
"Now there's a surprise," she said. "Looking at you, I wouldn't have thought that you were a smoker either," she said.
"Oh really," I teased, "And what exactly does a smoker look like?"
She laughed again. I'm on a roll.
In all truth, I'm glad she didn't look like a "smoker." The most erotic smokers to me are those nice girls that look like they would never touch a cigarette. And when you see them take a hard, cheek-hollowing drag, a delicate snap and a smooth exhale, their purity becomes tinged with a hint of the rebel. I like that. I guess the Madonna/Whore Syndrome comes in many shades.
I took the remaining two cigarettes out of the pack and handed her one. She took it gingerly and actually gave a quick glance around to see if anyone she knew was nearby. Ah, she's also a closet smoker. Perfect. I find it most attractive when a woman views smoking as a special treat, not just as an addiction. I fished around in my pocket for my lighter and after taking a subtle deep breath to calm my excitement, I flicked on the lighter.
She lifted the cigarette to the full lips of her small mouth, set it in place and reached up to touch my hand as the flame moved closer. So classy. She took a hard pull on the cigarette and ever so slowly drew the smoke into her lungs. I tried not to stare as I too lit my cigarette, put my lighter back in my pocket and leaned back into the chair.
The sun was positioned behind her in such a way that the smoke curling off her cigarette took on a bluish glow. I could see every wisp of smoke dancing in the soft breeze. It was mesmerizing.
As it seemed that smoking had kind of drawn us together, I had to ask the logical question.
"So, how long have you been smoking," Not particularly profound I admit. But I still felt the jolt that comes from asking a stranger a personal question.
"I've only been smoking for about a year, actually," she said, slowly putting the cigarette back into her perfect mouth and giving it a relatively hard drag, hard enough to create a that soft, cheek-hollowing effect that I find so inexplicably erotic. She held her lips together as the smoke danced in her mouth, gave a short yet deep inhale and after holding the smoke in her lungs for a short time, deliberately exhaled it in a tight stream to the side so as not to blow it in my face. I could tell she was being polite. I sure wish she wasn't as I would have loved to see that stream heading right at my face.
"Really," I said. "You took it up this late in life? What made you start?
"Well," she said, "I don't really know." I think she wanted to tell me but may have felt a little awkward sharing such details with a stranger.
"Oh, come on," I joked. "I promise I won't tell anyone and if I see your Mom, I'll tell her you were just holding it for me."
She laughed. "OK, OK, I'll tell you." She took another drag and this time held the smoke a bit longer in her lungs as she contemplated her response. She hadn't yet exhaled as she began talking which allowed some of the smoke to be forced out with her words. She paused before powerfully exhaling the rest. "A lot of my friends smoke. I work in a pretty high-pressure work environment and I always thought it just came with the territory. I never started because I have always tried to take care of my body and I knew it was bad for me. But there was always something about it that I found..." she hesitated as she searched for the right word, "...interesting."
"Really," I replied. "I know what you mean."
"I do." I wanted to come out and tell her what I really thought about a beautiful woman smoking. I wanted to tell her that the image has fueled a certain part of my sexuality since I was a boy and that I often masturbate while viewing images of hot smoking women. I held my tongue. Needless to say I was surprised when she leaned in a bit and said, "To tell you the truth, I find smoking very sexy."
When she said it, her face expressed both shyness and the childlike joy that comes with being "naughty." She instantly dropped her eyes, shocked I believe in her uttering these words to a stranger. I sensed her feelings and in a playful, confidential way I asked, "Can I tell you something?"
"Yes," she said.
I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed about what I was going to say. I am not sure why as she had just admitted to me that she found smoking sexy. I guess it was from years of keeping my fetish to myself, except with lovers that I knew and trusted.
"Well, I really find smoking sexy too. It's something that has always kind of, well, you know..." I let the sentence trail off, unable to come out and say what I really wanted to say which is very unusual for me.
While she was listening to me and looking me right in the eye, she brought the cigarette to her lips and placing it in the far corner, took another beautiful cheek-hollowing drag followed by a very deep inhale and this time, she held the smoke for a very long time, seeming to make me wait for what turned out to be a perfect, slow exhale, this time aimed just to the side of my face.
"Are you trying to say it turns you on?" she asked in very kind, understanding way without a touch of embarrassment or guardedness as if she needed to protect herself with me. I gave a kind of bashful smile and a nod of my head.
"Oh good," she said with relief. "I guess I am not the only one after all. I have to be honest with you. Watching those girls smoke was really exciting for me. I was watching them do their smoking tricks and it really did something to me. When I saw you get up to light their cigarettes, I have to admit, it was kind of exciting."
"Where the hell did you come from!" I questioned in a joking manner. Half jokingly I said, "You are the woman of my dreams." Believe me, I was only half joking. We both laughed.
She had stubbed her cigarette out in the unused ashtray on the table and I did the same. There was almost a look of disappointment in her eyes as she did so, knowing that I didn't have anymore cigarettes. And she has a casual smoker, obviously wasn't carrying any herself. Just then the blonde and brunette light yet another round of smokes, continuing their smoking session with both snap and French inhales.
"I wish I could do that," she said to me, now completely comfortable with the idea of talking about smoking.
"Do what," I asked.
"You know, where the smoke kind of comes out of your mouth like a little ball and pops right back in. I think that looks so great. I actually tried in the mirror a few nights ago and I just couldn't get it,"
"Stick with it," I said. "It just takes a little practice and I agree with you, it is a very sexy smoking style." I then proceeded to casually let her know a bit of what I find sexy about smoking, my history with it. I mentioned that there was a large smoking fetish presence on the web and some sites even gave "lessons" to help new smokers learn. Just as casually she asked which one I would recommend. She was very cool.
"So how bad would I be if I admitted I wanted another one?" she asked with a smile.
"Bad," I said. "You would be very, very bad. Actually, you'd probably lose your drivers license and your right to vote." I kept teasing her, "So I guess the real question is, would it feel good or bad to smoke right now?"
Our eyes met. It was nice. Quietly she said, "It would feel good."
"So let me get this straight," I said. "You know have the choice of feeling good or bad. Seems pretty logical to me."
"Me too," she said with conviction. "I want to feel good being bad."
That cracked me up and was music to my ears. "Well," I said. "I am here to encourage your badness. I don't have anymore on me but I think there may be a few in my car which is right around the corner." I stood up from the table. "Want to take a walk"
"Let me see. I am about to walk to a total strangers car so we can have another cigarette, huh? Can I trust you?"
"I'd say the odds are 2 to 1," I said grinning.
There was only one problem amidst this unfolding fantasy. I wasn't sure if I actually had any cigarettes in the car. Not good. Kind of like bringing a girl home in high school and having your Mom barge in turn on the TV when you're getting ready to enjoy one of those mind blowing, teen-aged dry-humps. Lustus Interruptus. Can't really play that one off.
My car was parked about a block and a half away from the café. It was a warm, late afternoon and we chatted as we walked into the setting sun. I even liked the way she walked. Shoulders back with a little spring in her gait. We made small talk as we walked. She said her office was close by and she had left work a little early to pick up a gift for a friends birthday. I told her I had stopped for a coffee after a meeting and intended to head back to the office but was now thinking I might call it a day as well. While we chatted, we both knew of the unstated purpose for our stroll. We both found smoking erotic....and we were going to smoke together.