Smoke Fetish Torture

(by anonymous10, 19 November 2001)

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Paying the smiling waitress I sat down at my two seat table in the warm
sultry warmth of the "Cappuccino Stop" cafe in central town. Outside was an
intensely cold but bright and sunny November day. 

Indolently I raised my cup of steaming coffee to my lips and as I sipped,
surveyed the mildly busy coffee shop. There were only a handful of people all
doing their own business - eating or drinking just as I was. I couldn't see
any smokers and I was disappointed. Although I don't smoke myself, I have a
smoking fetish and I often go into this coffee shop to enjoy watching women

The cafe was small but cheerful. There were two couples and a trio of women
drinking coffee. To my left a vivacious brunette animatedly talking to a pale
tired looking man. Behind them, three women in their thirties were clearly
taking a rest from shopping and were laughing at some shared anecdote.
Straight ahead and next to the counter was a middle-aged lady of around 55
years looking sternly at all and sundry. Her blue-rinsed hair worn like an
armour. I smiled at the thought of battleaxes in full flow.

By the wide window and slightly to my left were what looked like a mother and
her daughter, who was attired in the local junior high-school girl`s
uniform.  My eyes stopped and savoured the vision as only a truly obsessive
smoke fixation can do and the mother was smoking. 

Boy, was she smoking.

The bright winter sunlight blazing through that large window produced a
wonderful backdrop, which emphasized the hazy blue smoke hanging over their
table. My insides boiled with pleasure. For the mother, a stunning looking
woman, had a smouldering quarter-smoked cigarette in her left hand and she
was talking through an awesome exhale. The shafting sunlight emphasized how
the solid smoke was punctuating each and every word she was saying to her
daughter: truly intensifying her thick voluminous stuttering smoke speech.

My heart soared and I pretended to examine my mobile phone to disguise my
visual absorption and mounting excitement she was giving me. Her obvious
pleasure and enjoyment she was receiving from her smoking filled me with a
deep and hot desire to masturbate.

I looked at the woman's young daughter. She was drinking a coke and absently
fiddling with her school bag laid before her on the table. Strangely, she
looked as if her thoughts were miles away. Not really listening to her
mother's animated chatting but otherwise engrossed. Moreover, and dare I say
it, looked irritable and definitely ill-at-ease. And I wondered why?

Perhaps she was missing an important lesson at school, Maybe she was poorly
and hoped not to attend, but mum was making her. 

Or more likely, I inspirationally thought, she actually disliked her mother
breathing out smoke so close to her. The young girl certainly looked agitated
and even more tense when her mother's smoke washed over her. 

I could just imagine the scenario. Young daughter hates the smell of smoke:
can't think why anyone could want to smoke. Yet her beautiful mother
continuously imbibes this disgusting and filthy pastime. The arguments would
be heated about her mother's smoking habit. 

Yes, she would be an angry agitated girl. Especially in times like this where
she is on the front line having to endure her mother breathing smoke all over
her. Oh god, I wished I could swap places with the daughter and have that
enchanting mother breath her smoke laden breath over me.  

Mind you and on the other hand, the daughter's agitation certainly didn't
detract from the her obvious beauty. 

Her hair was scraped back in the usual strict school requirement and ended in
two neat pigtails - obviously mummy's handiwork.  Framing her soft cherubic
pubescent face complimented by perfectly formed lips. Her flashing heavy
lashed eyes suggested hidden depths. Small budding breasts promised to become
full and heavy like her mother as puberty had obviously recently started.
Although four or five inches shorter than her five foot four mother was. That
same puberty rush would address that too. 

Such a pity though, I thought. Fancy hating smoke. It was erotic to think,
that perhaps she would like her mother, in time, become a smoker. She
certainly would look wonderful, languidly smoking although she was a little
young at the present. But give her a couple of years. And I imagined of that
time when she might try to copy her mother's stylish smoking proficiency. 

Such whimsical thoughts we smoke fetish people have!

Anyway, I continued avidly watching the classy mother's smoking style. It
was poetry in motion. Seductive and full bodied exhales were the order of the
day all enhancing the utter femininity of that gloriously sophisticated
woman. Her daughter continued to look uptight and I noticed that she looked
stressed out. looking elsewhere whenever she could. A few times her gaze
would fall on me and  puzzled look would pass her face. Obviously wondering
why I was so engrossed watching her mother.

Then all to soon, the mother glanced hurriedly at her watch. Clearly late she
took a last drag on her cigarette, arched her elegant neck upwards and
released a graceful plume high above her child's head. She then stood up,
simultaneously extinguishing her cigarette quickly into a small ashtray in
front of her.

Too quickly, for I noted for the cigarette was still burning in the ashtray.
Leaning forwards she kissed her daughter on the cheek and with a wonderful
carriage, she hastily left the cafe.

Cursing myself for not arriving earlier at the cafe and missing watching that
gorgeous woman lighting up and smoking. I looked away to some women being
served at the counter. 

I looked anxiously for more scenes of female's smoking but sadly nothing
doing and disappointed I started to replace my mobile phone in my jacket
pocket. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the middle-aged woman looking
highly shocked and grimly staring towards the table that had been vacated by
the smoking mother, now only occupied by the absent mother's young schoolgirl

I looked to see what the problem was and my heart stopped. The young
schoolgirl was sitting absent mindedly at the table and sipping her coke.
staring at the smoke spiralling from her mother's botched extinguishing and
I saw her lick her lips edgily. Then with heart-stopping stupefaction I
realised what was wrong. The young daughter had her mother's burning
cigarette between her fingers.

For a moment the young schoolgirl held her mother's burning cigarette
thoughtfully and a look of temptation illuminated her sweet intense face.
"Take a puff "my mind screamed silently. Hesitantly the schoolgirls small
hand brought the smoking cigarette close to her mouth and her lips pursed in
anticipation. Just before her lips fastened round the smoke drifting filter
the girl looked over to me  and suddenly looked worried as she realised I was
staring. She then rapidly and expertly extinguished the cigarette that her
mother had failed to do. 

I cursed to myself and looked away. I had ruined the girls intention of
having a sly drag on her mother's cigarette. 

Shit! Shit! I could tell by her expression that the schoolgirl had fully
intended to have a go at smoking and the way she was holding that cigarette
had screamed familiarity to me. I had unwittingly spoiled her chances. Shit!
Shit again. I could have had some wonderful wanking dreams if I had not
scared her off.

I looked around at her again and my heart did somersaults. A rush of heady
adrenalin hurtled round my body. Obviously, she had thought again about
trying to smoke. With sweet hot sensuous arousal I immersed myself in the new
vision the sly child presented to me.

Amazingly, that fresh faced innocent looking child now was nervously holding
a fresh unlit cigarette between her right-hand fingers. My breathing became
stilted. Surely this child couldn't be a accomplished smoker. 

Oh my god.  

She has her own cigarettes and she is going to have a cigarette all by
herself and I`m going to witness it all. Debauched smoke thoughts like these
hurtled through my aroused mind.

Her other hand was sneakily returning a cigarette packet back into her school
bag. Jesus God, I tried to take stock. My penis was aroused tantalised that
the young child before me had her very own cigarettes. My eyes burned into
the revelation before me. I couldn't blink. I was totally captivated. 

Even though the fresh faced schoolgirl had pushed her illicit cigarette
packet into her schoolbag, her hand still remained deep inside rummaging for
something else. A delicate frown played on the girl's pretty forehead as she
hunted through her textbooks and other scholastic paraphernalia. The frown
was replaced by a look of pure relief when her hand surfaced from her bag
holding a bright pink disposable lighter. 

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, I fully understood the young child's
apparent agitation in her mother's company. She was tormented by her mother's
smoke not because she disliked it, but because she wanted to smoke herself.
The young girl's mother smoking was probably torturing the pure child. The
schoolgirl before me was obviously an addicted smoker and her mother didn't
even know.  My penis irresistibly twitched at this fresh evidence.

Looking secretly around as if to see if her mother was truly gone, the young
girl assessed whether she could dare to light up her adult plaything in this
cafe. In public. She broodingly examined and played with her lighter. Her
desire for nicotine was tormenting her. 

Her craving won. The child stealthily and furtively placed the long white
cigarette she was holding in her hand in-between her lips. Her lighter
clicked several times then flamed. 

Dipping her cigarette into the pool of flame the child's cheeks hollowed as
she drew in smoke. A look of deep expectant pleasure manifested itself in her
countenance.  Removing her cigarette, she inhaled deeply and her body visibly
lost it former agitation as smoke swarmed into her child lungs. 

Holding her lungful of smoke deep inside her, the schoolgirl carefully put
her lighter back in her school bag. Only after she had done this did she
allowed herself to luxuriously exhale. 

My breath caught as I saw her vent from her petite mouth, a smooth warm flood
of cascading smoke over her smouldering cigarette. That same smoke billowed
softly cascading its way over to where I was sitting enveloping me with its
sweet unmistakable smell. I was in bliss and my manhood throbbed wildly at
the sheer stimulation. 

Then the perverse child shrewdly looked around the room and became aware of
the middle-aged woman looking on disapprovingly at her smoking activity. Then
she noticed me avidly watching her with total absorption. The child was
uncomfortably ill at ease. Embarrassment flushed her young cheeks a deep red.

I smiled to the girl trying to show her that I accepted young adolescent
women smoking publicly as totally normal. She smiled back at me but it was
with uncertainty. Self consciously the child lifted her long smouldering
cigarette to her lips My manhood got hotter and more turgid with my

Nervous of the exhibition she clearly realised that she was presenting to the
watching middle-aged woman and myself, in other words, the spectacle of young
schoolgirl addicted to and needing her cigarettes and smoke. It was clearly
discomforting for the fresh faced young girl in her school uniform intending
to get pleasure from her cigarette . 

Nonetheless, pleasure still suffused the child's face as she drew anxiously
on her freshly lit cigarette. Her cigarette jutted jauntily as it glowed from
her new intake of smoke. Cheeks slightly hollowed, her mouth hungrily sucked
in the smoke. Then with a hurried movement, her hand came up to her face and
her cigarette twitched as she guardedly removed the long white burning tube
from her young lips. She knew the irregularity in smoking so openly in public
so young. 

Although troubled with being watched, her eyes still closed gratifyingly as
she breathed in the heavy nicotine elixir that she had just taken into her
child-like mouth. 

Opening her eyes the young girl stared across to me and shyly smiled. My
heart was pounding with craving. I could hear my blood roaring past my ears
and my bladder felt weak.  She couldn't be much more than fourteen- years old
and I wondered.  Did this young female know what she was doing to me? 

With a mind of its own, my penis, heavily threatening to burst, pounded me
with its messages of masturbatory liberation.  I desperately thought of dog
shit and other associated crap in order to stop the almost inevitable
impending ejaculation that was burning into my groin. I tried to avert my
eyes from this licentious vision of adolescent smoking. But I couldn't. 

Then the sweet smoke came. First it teasingly drifted through the girl's
sweet pert little nostrils then thickening into glorious mature columns of
pure smoke. A look of rapture passed across her countenance and her shy smile
changed into an assertive pursing of lips directing her funnel of decadence
towards me. Her cloudy exhale clawed its twisting tumbling relentless path
towards me. Ecstatically I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose
to savour this forbidden elixir. 

As the child's heady exhalation fogged over me and her diffused smoke
permeated into my nostrils. My mind went into overdrive. The fragrance of her
smoke seemed directly connected to my manhood. And as my nasal passages
wanted so much to be overrun and saturated with the sweet acrid smell of that
schoolgirl smoke that was to me, the ultimate bouquet. My penis strained my
trousers to ripping point.

The delicious smell, tangible and so pure drenched my senses as I thought how
delicious it was sharing smoke that had only an instant ago been deep inside
that wonderfully corrupt child sitting only a few feet away from me.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw that she had replaced her cigarette to her
lips and was again deeply drawing upon it. Her eyes locked on to mine as she
continued to drag. 

She knew. 

This woman-child smiled with amusement at my predicament. She had discovered
my secret. My secret of covetously watching smoking female's.

As if to emphasize her knowing my fetish she confidently and continued to
brazenly fix my eyes with hers. Then she opened her lovely little lips. My
eyes dropped to the heavy curtain of smoke hanging there. Oh sweet Jesus

 Mesmerized I look closer. I see the blue opaque partition of slowly tumbling
smoke hanging between her young parted lips. Then the child gently tilts her
head allowing me see it sweep down her divine throat as she breathes it in. 

I saw with my very own eyes that huge mass of cigarette smoke hurtle
majestically down that young girls throat creating a wonderful paradox of
adulthood and maturity from a fraudulently mature adolescent child. 

 For a few seconds this scheming child tantalisingly holds that warm smoke
deep down inside her young lungs. She knows me and a small soft assertive
smile slowly curls the corners of her mouth. 

Then just for me, she opened her mouth and I looked to see nothing but
perfect pearly teeth and a cute pink tongue. I see not one trace or strand of
smoke in sight. Undoubtedly, to prove to me how the huge ball of smoke was
deeply inside her young lungs. Probably still tumbling and twisting giving up
its nicotine load to her warm pink bodily tissues.

Like a conjurer satisfied that their trick has been checked out before the
Grande Finale. She then breathes out slowly. At first there is nothing. Then
pursing her lips with an anticipatory smirk she continues to gently exhale.
In admiration, I witness a faint misty funnel of smoke transform into a deep
creamy exhale pouring smoothly tripping and dancing past her small pink lips
inexorably pushing its way towards me again. 

In this cascading atmosphere of intense sweet/blue girl-created smoke. My
breathing becomes laboured with the tobacco headiness of her smoke-drenched
air.  My penis is at the point of no return through the unholy decadence of
it all.

Yet again I try to consolidate my thoughts. I close my eyes fervently hoping
my throbbing manhood will subside without the visual input of that awesome
spectacle of that fraudulently mature cigarette smoking child.

My eyes are closed now and her smoke feels even thicker. Deep in my reverie I
feel a gentle tap on my arm. I open my eyes and I see her intensely pretty
young face only six or so inches from mine. She had left her table and with
her school bag over her shoulder was leaning over me.

One hand has her smoking cigarette. The other is holding one of her pigtails
away from my face because she is so close to me. I can just smell her
perfume.  She is whispering something to me. Her words are interlaced with
her smoke punctuating her every syllable. Her smoky breath deliciously
touches and teases my face and my penis squirms in deep rapture. 

She actually said 

"Is my smoking OK for you?"

I nodded madly and as I wantonly breathe in her smoke-laden breath and I
swear she directs some of her inhale into my mouth.  Then events overtake me.
With a groan I come hotly and wetly inside my trousers.

Still remaining close to me the child places her half smoked cigarette back
to her perfect lips and draws in deeply making the glowing end hiss in
urgency of her demand. 

Then with a flirtatious grin, she smoothly inhales her cargo of nicotine. She
is enjoying my situation of dominance by her and she is playing to my need.
She is delighting in my watching her. 

I observe faint blue smoke trickle naughtily from her lips as she
meditatively assesses me. Her smiling eyes survey the widening damp patch on
my trousers. The trickle inexorably gains opacity and again I smell her smoky
bouquet. A delicious finger of intensifying smoke drifts and suffuses over
me, adding its child owner's corrupt aroma to the very fabric of my attire.
Then bending her head over my face the mischievous child exhales the smoky
leftovers of her lungs into my open mouth. 

She leans back. She is drawing on her cigarette again. The end is glowing
brightly. Another curtain of smoke hangs with authority between adolescent
lips. Then the thick smoke swarms up over her sweet little upper lip hurtling
into her lovely little nostrils. I had just witnessed the must incredibly
perfect French inhale ever and it was from a school kid. A school child that
knew her power over me.  

Quick as a flash the child stood upright, pivots and walks away to the door
and on outside. She is leaving. Probably lessons call. 

In the stark winter sunlight I make out a torrential plume of smoke drift
solidly from her hidden face to be plucked away by the autumn breeze. 

I am aroused again.  

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