A true psychological fetish is defined as an object or situation that is required in order for the participant to achieve arousal and orgasm during sexual encounters. So I probably don't have a true and honest smoking fetish, perse, because my husband and I don't smoke. But I do have an incurable and inexplicable attraction to it. In almost every single one of my sexual fantasies, the male aggressor (and he's always an aggressor) is a borderline chain smoker, with style and flair and a silver zippo lighter.
In my mind, a man who smokes is powerful and self assured, even though in reality it shows he is a slave to an addiction. In my twisted fantasy world he knows that what he does is wrong, and dirty, and taboo...but does it anyway, rebelling against authority. He holds the cigarette deftly between his fingers. It's natural, an extension of his hand. He doesn't hold it in a strange and trendy manner, not in stilted English style with thumb and forefinger. He holds it loosely between index and middle finger, and when not taking long drags off of it in a darkened bar, it just dangles and smolders at his side. A good smoker can deftly speak with his cigarette held tight between his lips, a thin stream of hot smoke squinting up his eyes like he's looking into the sun. He actually mutters his words at this point, out of the corner of his mouth, and sort of holds his head up, his chin cocked up to keep the smoke away from whoever he's talking to.
"You going to the party after?"
is the sort of thing he says.
A good smoker smokes Marlboros...red...in the box. He can flick a spent butt over ten feet without even trying. He ashes with a tight snap of his thumb, barely breaking stride in his speech or walking rhythm.
A good smoker knows I don't smoke but doesn't even ask if it's O.K. if he does. It's not his problem. He's a smoker, and I have to deal with it. A good smoker holds his 'smoke' and a beer bottle in one hand.
When he kisses me, I can taste whiskey and smoke on his tongue.
He doesn't do 'tricks'. He doesn't blow smoke rings or light matches on his teeth. A good smoker smokes cigarettes after sex, but not before breakfast. He doesn't smoke at baseball games, but always at bars. A good smoker keeps his teeth well brushed and white, his fingernails cut short and clean, and his hair a tousled, non-conformist mess. He's a rebel and he'll never ever be any good.
So you can see, a good smoker lives only in my mind. But he sure does a lot of damage while he's there.