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Maybe it began when I was much younger, and easily influenced by adults. Perhaps it began at 18 after watching Sharon Stone during the film Basic Instinct, admiring the way she seductively smoked in the police interview room. But I guess it doesn't matter how or when it started, the fact was I had the smoking fetish.

Of course I didn't know what a smoking fetish was at the time, or what my feelings meant. But I did know that the thought of smoking a cigarette had me reaching deep between my legs.

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich one day when I opened a draw to grab a knife. There next to the cutlery tray was a packet of Marlboro menthol cigarettes. It wasn't uncommon for my mother to leave spare packets of cigarettes around the house, and then complain she could never find them. But this time when I saw them my heart began thumbing against my chest and my nipples grew stiff, protruding through my thin t-shirt.

I stared down at the packet for a moment before reaching inside the draw and clutching them nervously in my tiny hand. Amazed at how light the packet felt I flicked the top open and counted fourteen white filtered cigarettes. I suddenly felt weak with excitement and my stomach tightened.

At this point I had no intention of lighting one of the cigarettes, but I was curiously aroused and wanted to know how one would feel and look between my fingers.

Before pulling out a cigarette I raised the packet to my nose and inhaled deeply. My pussy began twitching between my legs as the sweet aroma of unlit tobacco and mint filled my nostrils. I couldn't understand why I felt so hot and horny, but right at that moment I didn't care. I reached into the packet with my thumb and forefinger and carefully pulled out a cigarette...

Your pleasure is our business - House of Phone Sex! Call one of our smokin' hot fantasy makers and hare your wet dreams 415-621-6334 Maybe it began when I was much younger, and easily influenced by adults. Perhaps it began at 18 after watching Sharon Stone during the film Basic Instinct, admiring the way she seductively smoked in the police interview room. But I guess it doesn't matter how or when it started, the fact was I had the smoking fetish. Of course I didn't know what a smoking fetish was at the time, or what my feelings meant. But I did know that the thought of smoking a cigarette had me reaching deep between my legs. I was in the kitchen making a sandwich one day when I opened a draw to grab a knife. There next to the cutlery tray was a packet of Marlboro menthol cigarettes. It wasn't uncommon for my mother to leave spare packets of cigarettes around the house, and then complain she could never find them. But this time when I saw them my heart began thumbing against my chest and my nipples grew stiff, protruding through my thin t-shirt. I stared down at the packet for a moment before reaching inside the draw and clutching them nervously in my tiny hand. Amazed at how light the packet felt I flicked the top open and counted fourteen white filtered cigarettes. I suddenly felt weak with excitement and my stomach tightened. At this point I had no intention of lighting one of the cigarettes, but I was curiously aroused and wanted to know how one would feel and look between my fingers. Before pulling out a cigarette I raised the packet to my nose and inhaled deeply. My pussy began twitching between my legs as the sweet aroma of unlit tobacco and mint filled my nostrils. I couldn't understand why I felt so hot and horny, but right at that moment I didn't care. I reached into the packet with my thumb and forefinger and carefully pulled out a cigarette...
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