Smoky kisses

She sits back, cigarette held just right between two fingers. A blonde, still young, with smooth skin and a body that moves slow on purpose. She watches the smoke curl, then leans forward, lips parted. Her eyes say come closer. One drag, slow and deep. The smoke slides out warm, brushing your face before her mouth finds yours. She exhales again, this time right into the kiss, and the heat mixes with her tongue. Her free hand slips down between her thighs, fingers working in time with the smoke. Every pull she takes, every curl she lets out, pulls you in deeper. She tastes like ash and skin, and her breath keeps coming thick and sweet while her wrist stays bent, cigarette glowing. She presses closer, exhales again, and keeps touching herself, lips never far from yours.