I Love Females Who Smoke

Isn’t it wonderful that pretty women and girls smoke cigarettes?  I love

women, and I really put beautiful women on a pedestal.  I want them to always

be happy, and always feel good.  That’s why it makes me feel good that a

woman or girl can get so much pleasure from smoking a cigarette.

Thinking about the pleasure that a female is getting from smoking is equal in

impact for me with the incredible beauty of watching her confidently inhaling

and exhaling cigarette smoke.

To me, each moment, each step as a woman smokes a cigarette has its own

special appeal.  To me, smoking is the most sensuous act that a female can

perform, because of its beauty, and because smoking is something that can

completely transform a woman’s image.  As smoking has recently received less

social acceptance than in years past, to see a female happily defying others’

expectations and smoking, simply because she wants to, gives me great

satisfaction.  The more a female seems to be enjoying smoking a cigarette,

the more beautiful and sensuous it is for me to watch her smoke.

I will never get over the adrenaline rush I feel when an attractive woman or

girl first reveals herself to me as a smoker; when for the first time I see

her walking from a store with a pack of cigarettes, a flip-top box stuffed

proudly in her jeans pocket, or an ash tray near her.  I wonder if I’ll be

fortunate enough to observe her smoking.

I want to know everything!  What tempted her to try smoking?  When she smoked

a cigarette for the very first time, and how she liked it.  How she felt when

for the first time she saw a burning cigarette between her fingertips, and

smoke coming from her mouth.  What about her first cigarette encouraged her

to light and smoke her second cigarette?  How she felt about her image the

first time she smoked a cigarette in front of friends and family members.

After smoking a few cigarettes, how she felt as she first realized that she

would need to go beyond puffs, and breathe smoke into her lungs to satisfy

the newfound dependency that she so happily was developing in her body.  How

I wish I could have witnessed that first, deep “have-to” inhalation, and the

look of surprise and joy on her face as the effect of the smoke she breathed

was not the discomfort she slightly feared, but real satisfaction instead.

How I wish I could have hugged her when she silently told herself, “I’m going

to smoke again soon.  Smoking makes me feel good.  I’ve never felt this way

before.  I feel so good, so alive when I smoke.  And cigarette smoke tastes

so good.  Mmmm.”

I think about her feeling a combined sense of pride, self-consciousness and

commitment, as for the first time she walks up to a counter and asks a clerk

for a pack of cigarettes.  She feels herself blushing as the clerk asks,

“Soft pack or box?  King size or 100’s?  On the way from the store, she tells

herself, “I won’t smoke too many cigarettes…I’ll keep it under control, but

it really would be nice to have my own cigarettes, so I can smoke a cigarette

whenever I feel like it.”  She makes the decision that the feelings available

to her from a cigarette are worth paying for, and worth the

self-consciousness that comes from buying them.  What a great moment!

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall the first time she stepped

privately in front of a mirror and watched herself as she lights up and

smokes a cigarette, taking pride in her new image, and feeling secretly

impressed with her appearance as she exhales smooth streams of smoke from her

lips.  She experiences a revelation, “I look nice smoking.  It’s not

unattractive at all, now that I inhale my smoke.”  She studies her technique,

striving to look casual and ladylike as she smokes.  She wants to continue to

smoke, and she wonders if males will react favorably.  She looks forward to

beginning to smoke in public, and hopes to be prepared as well as possible.

But…back to the present fantasy.  My adrenaline overcomes me as I watch my

friend, a tall, slender, pretty young woman of eighteen, sit down beside me

and slide a Marlboro Light 100 from her pack.  “Would you mind if I smoke?”,

she asks sweetly, as I smile at her.  She knows that I love to hear her ask

that question, and she knows the answer will be, “Go ahead.”  She happily

holds the filter of her long, white Marlboro Light to her soft lips, between

two long, slender, delicate fingers, as she positions the flame from her

lighter near the tip of her cigarette.  Her anticipation is high.  She is

about to smoke tobacco.  She knows the satisfaction of the smoke she is about

to breathe into her thin, womanly body.

Her tanned, slender forearm presses against a nipple as she holds her

cigarette to her lips with her fingertips.

She seals her sensuous lips around the filter, creating suction to draw a

heavy stream of smoke into her throat and lungs, for no other purpose than to

experience pure physical pleasure.  Her beautiful cheekbones are highlighted

as her cheeks curve in.  The tip of her cigarette glows red hot, a sure sign

that cigarette smoke is now flowing into her body.  She disregards the

objections of non-smokers, the possible health risks, the moralizing of some,

and draws smoke from her cigarette simply to enjoy the pleasant taste and

sensations that cigarette smoke and nicotine provide her.

She releases her cigarette from her lips.  A wisp of smoke near the filter

disappears into her mouth.  She leisurely inhales, absorbing the chemicals

from the smoke, to take full advantage of the sensations her cigarette will

deliver.  Her lungs fill with cigarette smoke.  She is helpless to resist

tobacco smoke, and has no reason to want to.  She has made a commitment.  She

is a woman who satisfies her urges.  She is a smoker.

Some seconds later, she holds her lips close together to enhance her

appearance as she exhales the smoke that was held beneath her small, firm

breasts.  The smoke, flowing over her tongue, tantalizes her taste buds with

the rich, satisfying taste that is only available from a cigarette.  Her

exhale is heavy, long and smooth.  Now there is cigarette smoke several feet

in front of her lips; smoke that so recently was one with her womanly body.

“So good,” she thinks to herself, “I really need this cigarette.”  She is

disappointed as the exhale ends, but she takes comfort in knowing that her

cigarette is long and fresh, and she is able to draw smoke into her body

whenever she pleases, as deeply as she pleases.  With her cigarette between

her fingertips, she moves her long, wavy light brown hair back behind her

shoulders.  Then, as an afterthought, she places her long, white cigarette in

her mouth, takes the ruffled elastic band from her wrist, and pulls her hair

into a ponytail.  I see her lips seal on the filter of her cigarette as she

takes her second drag while fussing with her silky hair, and in as ladylike

way as possible, exhales smoke past the cigarette in her lips.

As she finishes with her pretty hair, she brings two long fingers near her

mouth, on either side of her cigarette, and holds them in a V.   Her

cigarette glows red hot, and moves slightly up and down in her lips as she

applies suction to the filter.  Smoke flows into her body.  After a vigorous

draw, she captures her cigarette between her fingertips and removes it from

her lips.  Her lips pout open.  Watching closely, I see her breasts rising as

she draws cigarette smoke into her lungs.  She smiles slightly as smoke flows

from her lips.  A tiny stream of smoke flows from each nostril, mixing with

the heavy stream of smoke smoothly flowing from her mouth.  At my

encouragement, she speaks often about her smoking.  “I couldn’t wait for this

cigarette.  I just finished a tough mid-term.  Whenever I’m in a place where

I can’t smoke, I want it even more.”

She looks down at the long, burning cigarette between her slender fingers.

She switched recently from king size to 100’s.  The longer cigarette looks so

nice in her hand, and she has noticed that her first drags are milder.  For a

moment, she idly watches the little wisp of smoke still coming from the

filter, then looks up at me and smiles.  She is happy to be a young woman, is

excited to be a college freshman, and secretly is pleased with the way that

smoking calls attention to her beauty.  Today she is wearing a halter top and

short, black shorts.  I have complimented her quite often on her long, firm,

slender legs.    Her hand, holding her cigarette, now rests on her silky,

slender thigh, her cigarette awaiting its next contact with her lips.

When I first met her, and she smoked for the first time in front of me, she

mentioned that sometimes people gave her a hard time about her smoking.  I

told her, “I think it’s nice that you smoke.” “And,” I added, “You look very

attractive smoking a cigarette.  You have so much style in the way you

smoke.”  She blushed and rolled her brown eyes when I told her, but her huge

smile revealed how flattered she was.  She said, “I’m glad, because smoking

is something I totally enjoy.  Several guys have said they like watching me

smoke.  It makes me feel good to know that, because I have to smoke, and I

certainly don’t want to stop.”

She looks directly at me with her big brown eyes when she takes her next

drag, and when she smoothly exhales smoke.  As the last smoke leaves her

lips, she smiles in amusement at my attention.  She says, “I don’t mind if

you watch me exhale.  It makes me feel sexy to know you like watching me

smoke.”

As she continues to smoke, her body comes alive with pleasure and

relaxation.  She is no longer a novice.  She has smoked cigarettes for five

years.  Her body and soul welcome cigarette smoke as an old friend.  She

takes joy in the intensely personal pleasure of smoking tobacco.  As a young

woman, she is constantly thankful that she made the decision to smoke as a

girl, and had a satisfying smoking habit to rely on through the normal stress

of her teenage years.

I asked her once about starting to smoke.  She said she had never been so

nervous as when, as a twelve-year-old, she asked her parents for permission

to begin smoking occasionally, to see if she liked it.  Her parents, both

smokers, asked her to wait until her teenage years.  A few weeks later, on a

summer day and her thirteenth birthday, to her complete surprise, she

received a carton of Marlboro Lights, and permission to smoke cigarettes.

She related how thrilled she was that her dad spent many hours with her,

gradually introducing her to smoking, seeing to it that she never felt ill,

never went too fast, until she was deeply addicted to nicotine, and delighted

with her newfound habit.

She has never regretted a choice that made cigarettes a wonderful part of her

life.  Over the years, she has become completely comfortable with her image

as a smoker.  As her cigarette grows short, she takes a long, last drag,

inhales, and proudly exhales smoke as she taps out her cigarette in an ash

tray nearby.  She offhandedly mentions, “I really like these 100’s.  I’m

going to stay with them.”

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A woman or girl who has chosen to smoke has made a commitment to her physical

pleasure.  What could be more sexy than that?

Imagine a world in which every pretty woman and every pretty girl wants to

smoke cigarettes, and does so…free of legal restrictions, health risks or

moral objections.  A world where every girl receives cigarettes on her

twelfth birthday as a rite of passage, is taught to smoke with the support of

her family, and enjoys a happy, healthy lifetime of smoking pleasure.  Would

we men get any work done whatsoever?!

I love women and girls who smoke.  I love seeing them with a long, white

cigarette between their fingertips, and leisurely inhaling and exhaling smoke

from their pretty lips.  I only hope their pleasure equals the sensuous

beauty of the act.

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