The Smoking Fetish
I know that, for me, the fetish is a multi-part thing... It is the allure of such a fine pleasure in itself.. It is knowing that I hold a power over men and some women when I am smoking a cigar.. Even those who don't have an actual smoking fetish invariably seem to find it extremely provocative when I smoke my cigars, and I exploit that to the hilt by teasing, making eye contact on the inhale or exhale, and any number of other things designed to make them squirm in pleasurable torment! Just knowing that I am having that effect is a pleasure for me.
Then, there is my enjoyment of watching others smoke.. It is very sensual to watch a knowledgeable attractive cigar smoker light up and savour a stick for a couple of reasons. I often equate how one handles, lights and smokes a cigar with what sort of lover they will be...
Does she examine the cigar to see that it is not too dry or damp?
Does he take care to make sure that the tip is soft and pliant before cutting it, so it doesn't crack?
Is the cigar handled lovingly, reverently, slowly and carefully removing the cellophane, tissue, paper, cedar, or what have you, revelling in the "undressing" of it as part of the anticipation of its enjoyment...as part of the enjoyment itself... or is it simply unceremoniously divested of its packaging - stripped like a common whore to be put to use?
Does she pause to appreciate the feel, the aroma, the taste of the unlit cigar before rushing ahead to the task of lighting it?
Does he take the time to slowly toast the foot, turning his treasure to ensure even lighting curtailing his eagerness and enjoying this preparation... Or does he plunge it, unheated, into the flame in his haste?
And then, the actual smoking...
Is it hurried, something to be done with quickly, simply an idle pastime, something to be used up and discarded as just another commodity or perhaps a status symbol?
...Or, can you tell by watching that it is truly a joy, something to be revered and enjoyed to the fullest; every sensation noticed and adored, each wisp of smoke probed for it's intricacies of flavour before the sensuous exhale, and then the scent appreciated again in the air, the very texture of the veining of the wrapper leaf luxuriated in against the lips, tongue and teeth? Slow, even, deep draws that fill the senses with pleasure, down to the last; bliss and satiation at the sumptuousness of the experience mingled with disappointment that it is finished yet tinged with eager anticipation for the next round.
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