Smoking fetishism (also known as capnolagnia) is a sexual fetish based on the sight or image of a person smoking. For many the fetish appears to have had its roots in early childhood for man. The fetish is a classically conditioned behavior. The root for this behavior is often shaped by many variables.
White Sand Beach, Miami USA
by SNAKE for: Girls i met @
Our society tends to draw distinctions between pornography and erotica, art and sex. On GIM@ we allow them to intersect without exclusivity as we seek to cross the boundaries between these categories to create a one-of-a-kind visual experience. Our content meditates on the value of the explicit and the unseen, the realities of hidden sexual desires and the beauty of actually making them come true.
all work by christopher [SNAKE] cumingham
Question: Which three things would you take with you, if you were stranded on the swampy coastline of an equatorial island?
Ashlee: I would take my perfume (Angel by Thierry Mugler) because it would make it more bearable to be in a smelly swamp! And i would take my dad’s oversized jacket, because when i take off my pants, so they dont get wet, i am still well-covered….and….uhm… a balloon! ‘Cause it’s the most important thing of all, to have fun, even when the situation is dire!
Once again, Carmo finds another delicately different method of getting the fetish-lover’s mind to vibrate in anticipation! This exiting teaser film shows us with what skill and grace Nu Fetish methods push erotic boundaries! Feel that rubber snap! Feel that bubble squeeze! Let yourself drift off into associative thrill. That whipping felt good.
Time to let out my inner feline. I walk amongst the alleyways and find others of my kind, but none so bold as to drink in front of the passers by…
Why do i like the squeeziness of stockings and seams?
It’s simple: they make the firmness of flesh visually palpable.
I am real and soft and warm. I am a mess of cells and tissue and fluid.
A bag of sensual inebriation!
Time for a walk in the cool morning. I’m enjoying the view at the park and stop to watch the fish. I have always liked standing over this bridge and spitting into the water. I have done this since I was a girl and enjoy relishing in my unladylike memories. The fish don’t seem to mind and fancy my actions as nothing more than breakfast.
I’m making a hat. I’m making a hat… out of your safety. Covering my head to keep out your noise, but it permeates anyways. Through my pores, through my mouth, making my hat swell bigger and bigger until it can hold no more of your shit.
There is something about going to the theatre; is it the atmosphere of glamour, geared for the momentary experience or the air of expectation before a show? The careful setting of light and colour, the architecture fit to an idea of grandeur? Indeed, it is a place in which a dreamlike state can lay its blanket upon you, but only if you’re almost alone.
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