Not only can I see why they like this, I can empathise. The world of smoking fetishes A while ago I watched a documentary about cam girls — one of whom explained that some of her regular clients go to her for the smoking. Guys who smoke are hot to me in a way that I struggle to explain. In the same way as quick typing or wearing a good, chunky watch , smoking highlights the movement of his hands, and hands are sexy as fuck. I should, as I remind myself once every month, quit. They liked to see her play with the cigarette, rolling it back and forth in her fingers before she took a drag. Or smoking is bad? Beyond the visuals, the smell of someone lighting up reminds me of evenings spent laughing, touching, fucking in between post-coital cigarettes. They liked to watch as she put a cigarette between her lips, inhaled, exhaled slowly so they could watch the tendrils of smoke slowly escape her mouth. I fancy guys who offer me a light — holding it out to me and looking hard into my eyes, as I touch the end of the cigarette to the flame. Smoking gets you laid? The sight of a dude rolling, smoking, cupping his hand round a cigarette in just the right way, draws attention to his hands — a visual cue that points to a part of his body that I obsess over. Once a guy I loved told me I tasted nice when I kissed him. Smoking is Bad, OK? I can hold my phone like a talisman against looking alone, in the same way I used to slowly extract, tap, and light a cigarette. I fancy guys who roll their own cigarettes — the delicate, precise movements of their fingers and the gentle licks as they moisten the paper. Both of these traits, along with many others, have caused me to miss out on opportunities to get laid.