[ Post a Response | The Sublime Desire of Cigarette Smoking ]
Posted by satisfied_smoker on February 12, 2007, 10:27 am I got to thinking that the smoke fetish varies in strength from time to time. There are stretches of time where I hardly know I have it and some times where it really blossoms and I remember how strong and glorious it can be. That particularly happens when a hectic, busy life prevents one from "releasing" one's sexual tension for a long time (be it with one's lover/spouse or by one's self), then at a moment of respite at the end of your forced abstinence you're exposed to a stimulating trigger. It might be that you've finally gotten a chance to sit down at the computer and see what new smoke fetish material is out there or if you get into a situation in in which you see a beautiful smoking situation unfold before you in real life. The pent-up desire that results from a long drought really makes the passion we have for smoking very vivid and powerful. The most dramatic occurrence of this for me is usually on a long, hectic trip with the wife. It's often the case that we do so much walking, adventuring, museum-going and such each day that we (sometimes just she) is too tired to make love, so we put it off for a quite a while. Meanwhile, any place out of the United States tends to have much more smoking activity than here and I'm getting more and more stimulated as time goes on. A week drags on and a huge catalog of smoking imagery fills my minds - young pretty girls smoking as they read in the park, a sexy older woman who did a huge cheek-hollowing drag and exhaled right as we passed her so I could smell it, a woman I saw in front of a museum who held her smoke in her lungs for what must have been a minute before exhaling, and so on. I then make love with my wife, but I'm never able to properly dwell on what I've seen in such a way that I file it away. After a while my puffs become deeper, my holds become longer, and they're accompanied by a big smile on my face. It's at the quiet, restful times that I really start to simmer and think about smoking with passion. This is pretty much how it progresses and how my thoughts become full of passion and ecstacy: I may be sitting at a cafe having a cigarette and watching a beautiful girl smoking. I look through her beautiful exterior into what I think is a much greater, though dark, beauty emenating from within her. Her body is a smoker's body and she couldn't be happier about it. She chose to make it so and is continuing boldly on that path. At those times I just want to celebrate what's happening to her. and to myself as well. I look around at the other smokers and I feel the excitement of what we're all doing to ourselves. It's so wrong, but so incredibly erotic. Part of me wonders if all of them are feeling the excitement, though I doubt many are. They just think of the momentary pleasure the smoke gives them. The strange thing is, I'm a good person. I've never harmed anyone or myself and I have good positive feelings toward others and the world in general just like anyone else, but this one concept just brings out the devil in me. Perhaps true evil. We are given the opportunity to misuse crucial organs in our body that are vital to our lives and health - organs that we have to use very noticeably every second of every day. The wrongness of that is very exciting to me. Everything in the construction of our lungs is geared towards mitigating the damage that might be caused to them by impurities and obstructions in our atmosphere so that they can do their vital job of simply delivering oxygen to us. Millions of years of evolution have blessed us with a precious, complex breathing apparatus that seeks to filter out impurities and dust and all the dangers that could endanger our ability to live as air-breathing creatures, but we can just recklessly disregard that and sabotage it all. We can choose to deliberately breathe smoke. dirty air. pollution. What a strange turn of events that doing that feels SOOOO good to breathe smoke. Oh sure, it hurts at first, but once you get used to it, there's nothing as satisfying as a deep breath of sweet, dirty smoke. I love breathing smoke and I'm glad that so many others do too. I love that it's thick and dirty and filled with unspeakable chemicals. It feel so good and warm and satisfying to inhale it as deep as I can and feel it pour into my chest, following that soft burn at the back of my throat. I can imagine the fog that fills my the tracts of my lungs. I feel excited to know that so much of the smoke is literally absorbing into the tissues and inflaming them. It's doing what I know it's supposed to do and that's just what I want it to do. After 20 years of smoking I realize with great excitement that the dream I had when I was very young and just developing the fetish is truly coming to pass. I've truly transformed my body deep inside. It's gone on for a very long time and has come a long way. It's no longer a fantasy, but true reality. At times I thought I might not have the guts to truly keep it going for so long, but now I have and that apprehension is gone. I know that I'll have no problem continuing on the path and I very much want to. I really like what's happening to me and where it's taking me. When such thoughts come to me I just want to celebrate what I've done to myself. The thing that makes it so meaningful and precious is the very fact that I very much enjoy my life and my body and am very thankful for it, and am very passionate about life. That fact just makes it so much more meaningful and significant. It's a glorious thing to take the only body I'll ever have, along with the rare and mysterious gift of life and gladly throw it in the fire. What a strange and puzzling thing that I should want to do that, but I very much do. I want to celebrate the severe damage I've done to my precious lungs and my heart. I want to throw dirt into them and pollute them and burn them and throw them away. And when they fail, I will forever be gone with them. The gifts I've been given will be discarded like so much garbage. It brings a smile to my face to think about that. It also excites me to know that I'm compelled by addiction to continue what I'm doing. I'm so thankful that I've been addicted and feel as though I NEED to smoke. I've gladly taken the hand of a dark angel and held on, following it wherever it will lead me. I cherish the fact that I'm being led to a dark place by an evil force and I've chosen to cling excitedly to my untrustworthy escort. Though I know he's untrustworty, I'm unquestionably placing my full trust in him and will unquestionably follow wherever he guides me. well, that's my thoughts for the day. Oftentimes the fetish for me is just the excitement of seeing smoke pouring out of a beautiful set of lips, but sometimes I tap into the much deeper chasm of emotion belying that. Comments?
I got inspired by the previous post to come out of lurking, as others have. This is a terrific board and I love the subtlety and deep analysis of the darker side of the fetish that goes on here. Thanks Vesparae!
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