They’re banning smoking in bars and restaurants all over the world it seems, and that’s too bad. I mean, it’s probably a good thing as far as health goes (although who goes into a bar for their health?), but from an erotic standpoint, it’s a real tragedy.

Cigarettes are erotic, plain and simple. You can show me all the pictures of blackened lungs you like, but when a woman puts that white tube to her lips and sucks on it, then lets the white smoke trail from her nose and mouth, she’s making a serious erotic statement. The symbolic connection between fire, smoke, and sex is too obvious to comment on, and the messages you can send with a cigarette and the way you smoke it are amazing. I’m going to miss all that.

The best use of a cigarette I ever saw didn’t take place in a bar, though, but in a girl’s living room. She wasn’t exactly a Domme, but let’s just say she liked being in charge and making men work for it, and there was a definite submissive edge to the pleasure I felt with her. We were in her place, and she’d taken off her jeans and panties but left her boots and top on and was sitting in a chair with her legs spread as I knelt in front of her and ate her like a hungry slave.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job. She was starting to move a little and sigh in pleasure, and then she reached over and lit a cigarette and took a drag. She started smoking as I ate her.

I felt positively wormlike, like I was groveling at her feet as she slowly pumped against me and leisurely blew smoke at the ceiling. The smoking was turning us both on—the arrogance, the contempt she showed me. She started to quiver. At the last minute she offered me the cigarette and said, “Blow the smoke on my pussy. Right on my clit.”

I grabbed a quick puff and did as she did, plowing a milky white cloud onto her writhing cunt, and she arched her back and came hard, the tendrils of smoke catching in her pubic hair.

I’m going to miss stuff like that.