A little something different today.
These are some of my favorite pictures I’ve found browsing the web and exploring my smoking fetish. Male or Female, I can find a sexiness in either.
So we set a date and he came to town.
We had a nice dinner that night. Back then there were still smoking sections in restaurants, so he lit a cigarette after dinner. I had already explained my situation to him, where I wasn’t open with my smoking.
We continued seeing each other every weekend. It wasn’t until the third weekend that I went back to his hotel room with him. It was the first time I smoked in front of him and I could easily tell how much he was into it. We started making out. Before this night, I always felt sharing a cigarette was the most intimate thing one could do with another. I was wrong. As we were making out, he stopped to light a cigarette. When we continued making out, he took a puff and exhaled into my mouth as we resumed kissing. I couldn’t believe how turned on that made me. It was like we were sharing a part of each other.
He got me to smoke as we made love that night. It wasn’t something I was into, but he was, so I did it for him.
We continued seeing each other for almost a year. Each weekend he would drive to town. After about a month and a half, we stopped with the hotels and he stayed with me. He liked to bring different cigarettes with him each weekend for me to smoke. Most were okay, some were not that great. He really liked when I smoked the really long cigarettes. I wasn’t a fan. They were just too long and just didn’t really fit my personality.
One of the first ones he brought me was Virginia Slims 120’s. Honestly, they always remind me of an old lady cigarette, and I was a little offended when he brought them for me. That said, they weren’t bad. Again, just not a fan of the longer cigarettes.
One of the next ones he brought me were Marlboro Lights 100’s. These I enjoyed. I used to smoke the short Marlboro Lights when I was a teen.
Another he brought one weekend were these cigarettes. Capri. It looked like I was smoking a lollipop stick. I had to suck so damn hard on these things. I hated them.
Now, one of the last brands he bought for me I ended up falling in love with. Benson and Hedges. Holy shit were these good.
I almost switched to these full time. Not only did they taste wonderful, I absolutely loved the packaging. It just screamed “classy” to me. Well, I guess as classy as a cancer stick can get anyway.
It was around that time that my regular brand, Newport Stripes, were no longer being made. I still haven’t found a cigarette I liked as much.
I still love the pretty pastel colors on the pack. What can I say? I’m a sucked for great design.
Anyway, with the Newport Stripes gone, I had to find a new brand to call my own. I had tried a bunch thanks to my then boyfriend, but besides the Benson and Hedges, nothing really wowed me. Oddly enough, I bummed one of my neighbor’s Parliament Light 100’s, and it stuck. I really enjoy them. I love the recessed filter, and its much sturdier than the filters on other cigarettes. So with only a slight deviation which I’ll get to in another post, I’ve been smoking Parliament Light 100’s ever since. As I mentioned in an earlier post, other than my stint with the shorter Marlboro Lights as a teen, I’ve always smoked the 100’s.
Back to the original story though, sorry for the deviation.
We continued to see each other for almost a year. Towards the end, he started getting creepy. He kept wanting to do kinkier and kinkier stuff. Now I’m no prude, but there’s a limit to where I’ll go. I finally broke it off with him. He didn’t take it well. He told me he was going to post my pictures all over the internet, he was going to tell my family about my smoking, and other horrible threats. It kicked off my anxiety again. I was in a total panic about the whole situation. Thankfully he never carried through on any of his threats, but that didn’t curb the return of my anxiety.
It was the year 2000 when I finally caught up with the rest of the world and started using the internet.
I have always found smoking to be a sensual experience. I enjoyed watching other people smoke. Thanks to the internet, I discovered what I have is called a smoking fetish. I was actually very shocked to discover that there are lots of people out there like me. I was also very shocked to find out that it seems it’s mostly men who have this fetish. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why men like it. There is something very sexy and feminine about the way a woman smokes. There’s also something very sexy and masculine about the way a man smokes.
I’ve never considered myself anything but heterosexual, but almost all of the produced smoking fetish material on the internet is women smoking. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve had lots of experiences masturbating while watching these women smoke.
I started joining these online communities that were centered around the smoking fetish. I made the mistake early on of letting people know I was a woman. Most didn’t believe me, asking for proof, photos, etc. I was naive in those days. I posted some pictures of myself in my bathroom mirror while smoking. In those days there were no camera’s on cell phones. I did have an early digital camera. The thing was a Kodak and it was big and bulky. I didn’t think about it at the time, but those pictures are still out there on the internet somewhere, and that scares me.
Once the picture proof was shown, I became very popular in the small community. I kept getting requests for more pictures, which freaked me out. Thankfully I was smart enough not to post any more.
There’s different kinds of smoking fetishes. I prefer just watching people smoke. That’s all. Nothing more than that. There are others who like watching naked people smoke, or watching people smoke during sex or while giving oral sex. Then there’s the really dark shit. There are people out there into like this bondage thing, tying women up and forcing them to smoke. That stuff, and the people into it, are not my thing.
I did hit it off with one guy from the small community. We started talking privately for a while. In those days we used the AOL Instant Messenger.
After a few months, we decided to meet. He lived a few hours away, but decided to drive down for a weekend.
With only so much money to live on, I had to start looking for a job.
I started working at a big retail chain store, doing the overnight shift. It mostly consisted of just stocking and restocking shelves all night. It wasn’t a hard job, just tedious. The first night there we went through the training. I actually started about two weeks before the store was to open. It was brand new, and a few towns away.
I worked from 10 pm until 6 am. We had a 15 minute break at midnight, a half hour “lunch” at 2 am, and then another 15 minute break at 4 am.
That first night I was nervous as anything. I didn’t know anyone. Most of the people didn’t even speak English. We had two supervisors. One was a man who was probably in his 40’s or 50’s, his name was Manuel and spoke both English and Spanish. The other was a woman in her late 20’s or early 30’s. She was a southern woman named Tammy (cliche eh?), apparently she went around the country helping to open up new stores, so she wasn’t going to be there more than a month or two.
Midnight rolled around and it was time for our first break. I watched as Tammy went outside with the two older women who were working, and a few of the spanish guys, to go smoke. None of the spanish girls smoked, so they and the other non-smokers stayed in the break area.
I debated in my head about going out to have a cigarette. I rationalized that nobody here knew me, and it was the middle of the night, so nobody I knew would be coming by. I walked outside and up to Tammy.
I asked her if I could go to my car to get my cigarettes. I liked to smoke while driving, and I didn’t expect to smoke at work, so I left them in the car. She told me it was against policy for workers to go to their car during the night shift. Something about theft possibilities. She did offer me one of her cigarettes. I accepted.
She smoked Marlboro Menthols. They’re basically the regular “cowboy killer” Marlboro’s, just in menthol. That night was the first and last time I smoked menthol. While they did the job, I just hated the taste. I smoked four that night. One at the midnight break, two at the 2 am lunch break, and one more at the 4 am break. We sat there on the benches and smoked. I had some nice conversations with Tammy and the other two women.
It was the first time in a long time that I really felt good and comfortable. I didn’t feel like people were judging me, and for the first time in my life, I was smoking with a group of people, and they just accepted me for who I was.
I was a little sad when Tammy left to move on to another new store. She was a really cool person. This was before the days of social media, so the only way to keep in contact was through the phone or mail.
I was 20 when my world started to crumble.
My mother was diagnosed with a rare terminal cancer. It was aggressive, and there wasn’t any hope other than chemo to try to slow its growth. It wasn’t lung cancer, and she knew she didn’t have a lot of time left, so she kept smoking. I guess her thinking was, why go through the hell and discomfort of trying to quit smoking when she was already going through a different hell with the pain the cancer brought about?
It was just the two of us in our place. We lived in a duplex, so there was another family living in the other “half” of the duplex. Being that it was just the two of us, I spent most of my time helping care for her. Bathing, using the bathroom, preparing meals, medicine, doing all the cleaning, laundry, shopping, etc.
It was a good excuse for me not to go out with friends. She couldn’t walk very well, so she stayed in her room most of the time. That gave me the freedom to smoke pretty much anywhere in the house without worry of being caught. I’d smoke down in the basement while doing the laundry, or just lounging on the couch at night watching TV while my mom slept upstairs. Of course my cigarette consumption increased quite a bit during that time.
Mom lasted just over six months after she was diagnosed. I’ll never forget the absolute fear and terror I felt when I watched the ambulance take her away. I had no idea what to do. My relatives all lived quite a distance away.
My neighbor was outside with me as we watched my mother being taken away. She was great. She consoled me. Her husband was at work, and her kids were at school. She brought me into her side of the duplex and fed me.
We talked for a while. She too was a smoker. She asked if it would be okay if she smoked. Instead of telling her it was her house and okay with me, I asked if I could have one. She seemed a little surprised by the request, but didn’t question me. We sat and talked, and I smoked three or four cigarettes with her over an hour and a half.
She smoked Parliament Light 100’s. Which oddly enough is the brand I’ve currently been smoking for the last 10 years or so.
The next few days were just a whirlwind. I had to take care of making funeral arrangements, getting a death certificate, dealing with credit card companies, the estate. It was all a long nightmare.
My relatives started showing up. My grandparents stayed with me for the funeral and a few days after. It was the longest I’d gone in 5 years without smoking, and it was just utter hell on top of all the emotions I was feeling. I was able to sneak off a couple of times to smoke, but it wasn’t near enough.
Finally everyone went home after a few days and I was able to get back to my life. One afternoon I was sitting on the couch going through some paperwork when someone knocked on my back door. I got up and saw my neighbor. She asked if I wanted to come out and smoke with her. I grabbed my pack of Newport Stripes and walked out onto the back deck that the duplex shared.
When she saw my cigarettes she joked that apparently I didn’t bum her cigarettes the last time because of stress. I admitted I had been smoking secretly for quite a few years. We had some good times and good conversations on that back porch before her kids came home from school.
I was 19 when my anxiety came back with a vengeance.
I really couldn’t tell you what triggered it, but it was debilitating. I shut myself in my room for days at a time. I couldn’t leave my room. Everything seemed daunting and bigger than life.
Adam and Debbie kept me supplied with cigarettes. It was about the only thing that kept me sane. At the same time, I also started to shut them out. The two of them, along with my best friend, would stop by on varying days. It got to the point where I shut out my best friend completely, and the only reason I kept seeing Adam and Debbie was to feed my nicotine addiction.
At this point, the only time I left the house was to see my old therapist. He was again a big help. I went on some medication for a while, which got me functioning, though it took a while to really take effect.
In that time I lost the love of my life. I really can’t blame him. I couldn’t deal with me, how could I expect him to? Especially when I kept pushing him away. It’s still the biggest regret in my life.
It took almost a year to get me out of my funk. Just when I thought life was about to get better, it threw me another curve.
I met the one.
He was a cute guy. Really cute. We had a class together in my first semester. He caught my eye after our first class. He walked out the door of the building in front of me, and lit a cigarette. That boy could smoke, and he was sexy as hell doing it. The way he looked, the way he stood, the way he would exhale, everything about his body language just oozed sexy to me.
He caught me staring. I’m sure I must have turned a bright shade of red. He walked over and introduced himself. We’ll call him Adam. We sat there and talked for a few minutes while he finished his cigarette. He told me he’d see me the following week. The class was only once a week.
The next week he was waiting for me before class. We gabbed for a short while before we had to go inside for class, but we met up again afterwards. He asked me if he could get my number, which I gave him.
We went on our first date that weekend. He picked me up and as we got into the car, he apologized to me if it smelt like smoke. I told him I didn’t mind and that I was used to it living with my mother.
We had a really nice dinner and some great conversation. I hung on his every word, and it seemed to me, he hung on to my every word. We had our first kiss that night when he dropped me off. Let me tell you, he could kiss.
We continued dating for a couple of weeks. I was getting pretty nervous though, as I knew that sex would be coming. I wanted it for sure, but I was also frightened. I’d masturbated a lot, but I was still a virgin at that point. Sure enough, the question came when we were sitting in his car one night. I admitted to him that I was nervous about it and that I was a virgin. He couldn’t have been any sweeter. He told me I was special and that he would wait until I was ready. That lasted all of about five minutes. We were making out and the desire just came over me. I told him I was ready, and we moved into the back seat.
I know a lot of girls say their first time wasn’t great, but mine was magical. It wasn’t in some romantic room like I had always fantasized, but it was still wonderful. I never brought it up, but I assumed he had been with some other girls before, because he made sure I finished.
He lit a cigarette when we were done. I was on such a high from the experience, I did something even I was shocked about. I grabbed the cigarette from his lips and took a couple of drags.
To say he was a little shocked would be an understatement. I was in love with this guy, so I spilled the beans. We shared that cigarette as I told him mostly everything. I explained how i had been smoking for a few years and hiding it from everyone. He was so amazing. He promised he’d never tell another soul my secret and that he was honored that I would share that with him.
Things with him were good, really good. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more comfortable with another person.
We had been dating a few months when I took him with me to visit my grandparents. When we arrived, my grandmother said I reeked of smoke. I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully Adam jumped right in and took the blame, telling her it was his fault. Grandma made a comment to me that she hoped I never started smoking. He again jumped right in and assured her she didn’t have to worry. He told her I was constantly on his case to quit. That made my grandmother happy, and I was just falling more and more in love with this boy.
That was still a difficult trip. My grandparents made us stay in separate rooms. I had to wait until they were asleep to sneak out and smoke.
All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better guy. He was always calling me, sending me little notes, buying my flowers, and generally was the greatest thing to happen to my life.
Sadly that would all change when I was 19.
When I turned 18, my smoking really picked up.
I finally had to ability to buy cigarettes myself. Of course I drove twenty minutes away, three towns over, to buy them. I didn’t want anyone I knew seeing me buy cigarettes.
I switched fully to Newport Stripes at that time. I know I’ve mentioned this a few times, but it’s a god damn crime that they stopped making those. They were the absolute best cigarettes. They only came in the 100’s length, which means they’re a bit longer than regular cigarettes. Oddly enough I only ever smoked the shorter ones when I smoked Marlboro Lights. My mother always smoked the 100’s, and she was my unknowing supply for a long time.
It’s funny though, turning 18, I thought I was getting the freedom to smoke whenever I wanted to, but that wasn’t the case. I was still hiding my smoking from everyone except Debbie. I was still smoking by myself, in my bedroom. It’s just that now I could get cigarettes easier, and you know what that means? Yep, I started smoking more.
It was getting tougher and tougher to hide the habit, but I did. My best friend was pissed at me for a while. We made plans to go on a road trip after our senior year. I chickened out at the last minute. I started panicking. As much as I wanted to go on that trip, I knew I wouldn’t be able to smoke, and that scared me.
That was the first time I thought about quitting. That thought didn’t last long. I still had this sexual/sensual fascination with smoking. I was sixteen the first time I masturbated while smoking. I haven’t masturbated without a cigarette since. There’s just something so sensual about it. I can’t really explain it. I mean, I like what I like, right?
My best friend went off to college at the end of that summer, and I stayed at home. I tried a couple of semesters at the local community college. It wasn’t really for me, but I met the perfect guy there.
It’s funny how things in your life unfold.
My best friend was anti-smoking. She always has been. I love her to death. I continued hiding my smoking from her, and started seeing her less frequently.
I started hanging out with Debbie more often. She’d pick me up and we’d go to the movies, the mall, or just pick a place to hang out somewhere. It was great having a friend who not only smoked, but who knew I smoked and was willing to help me. When we were going somewhere, she drive around a little longer to let me finish my cigarette, or if we were at the mall she’d let me sneak a few puffs on her cigarette when I was sure nobody was looking.
She also bought me cigarettes when I needed them. I paid for them of course, but she would be the one to go into the store and buy them. I continued smoking the Marlboro Lights I’d buy at the market on the weekends, but now that I was smoking about half a pack a day, they didn’t last long, so I ended up smoking Newport Stripes the rest of the week. I know I said this already, but those Newport Stripes really were the best cigarette ever.
I ended up being miserable on nights I would hang out with my best friend, simply because I couldn’t smoke. Actually, I could smoke, I just wouldn’t let myself. I couldn’t tell her about my smoking. She has always been against smoking. I’d think of scenario’s in my head about telling her, but I never could.
I had started dating around this time. Nothing more than a date or two with a few different guys. One guy picked me up and the moment I got into his car, he asked if I smoked. I of course lied, and asked him why he was asking. He told me the smell was really strong. I blamed it on my mother. I had been nervous about the date, and had a cigarette right before he showed up.
The date went horribly. My anxiety got the better of me. All through dinner I kept thinking he knew I was a smoker and that he’d tell everyone at school. He could tell I was not having a good time, and we ended the date early.
That was the last date I went on in high school.
I started getting bolder the more I smoked. I would use a plastic cup with water each night as an ashtray in my room, and empty it down the toilet before bed. With my mother constantly smoking in the house, I didn’t have to worry about her smelling my smoke.
I became really good friends with Debbie, the girl I worked with at the market. In the late summer, she took me to a concert we had both been talking about. It was at this big outdoor venue about an hour and a half away. My mom wasn’t sure about me going on such a long drive with Debbie, but I finally convinced her.
Debbie of course smoked during the ride to the concert, and there were a couple of times I almost asked her for one.
We got to the venue and walked around for a bit on the lawn. Everyone it seemed was smoking. It was driving me crazy. At one point when Debbie lit a cigarette, I couldn’t take it anymore. As we were walking, I asked her for her cigarette. She didn’t look at me funny, or say anything, she just handed it to me. I took two or three big drags then handed it back to her, thanking her.
I started to continue walking, but she didn’t. I turned around and she was pulling her pack out of her purse. She asked if I wanted one of my own.
We were an hour and a half away from home. I wasn’t going to run into anyone I knew, yet I was still hesitant. However my desire to smoke won out. I accepted her offer and we just stood there while we smoked. She asked how long I had been smoking and stuff.
The brand she smoked was called Newport Stripes. They don’t make these anymore and that is a fucking shame. They were the best cigarettes I ever smoked. They had a bit of a cinnamon taste to them that was amazing.
We had a blast at the concert. We danced all night long. It was so much fun. She gave me a couple of more cigarettes during the concert, and I smoked a few with her on the ride home.
The following weekend when we were working, she asked if I needed a cigarette break. I told her I’d love one, but I couldn’t risk someone seeing me smoke. She suggested I smoke in the ladies room. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest bathroom. It was its own separate building outside, with an attendant, who was constantly smoking in there. Other women walked in with lit cigarettes all the time. So I took her up on that suggestion. I’d get into a stall and light up and feel so much better. Nobody ever said anything or noticed.
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smoking and anxiety 