blowjob blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It all started when I was in college, exploring my sexuality and figuring out what I liked. I was always fascinated by the idea of giving head, and I wanted to be the best at it. So, I took it upon myself to learn everything I could about blowjobs. I started by reading (well, looking at) Hustler magazines, watching porn, and even talking to friends who had experience in the matter. Learning about the importance of teasing, using the right amount of pressure, and the power of eye contact. I practiced on a few willing partners and got better with each encounter.

One day, I met a guy at a party who was known for being quite the ladies’ man. He had a reputation for being good in bed, and I was eager to see if the rumors were true. We hit it off immediately and decided to go back to his place. As soon as we were alone, he wasted no time in getting undressed. He lay back on the bed, and I dropped to my knees, pulled his pants down, and took his fat cock in my mouth like a good little slut.

Continue reading “College Blowjobs Phonesex”

abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

They call my place “The Sanctuary,” though some regulars lovingly whisper “Cory’s Corner of Bliss.” This isn’t your typical chain spa with weird music and generic oils. My space is more intimate, filled with the scent of sandalwood and a quiet hum of understanding. My clients, mostly men in their late 30s and beyond, come here for something more specific. Something they can’t find just anywhere.

My standard massage is good, really good. I’ve got hands that can melt knots you didn’t even know you had. But what truly sets me apart, what brings them back, is the “Comfort Care” add-on. It’s my little secret, a unique service that caters to a very particular kind of release. When a client opts for Comfort Care, I see their eyes light up a little, a mix of apprehension and quiet longing. That’s when I bring out the softest, thickest of adult diapers. It’s never forced, always an offered choice, explained delicately as a way to fully surrender, to shed the burdens of adulthood, even just for an hour.

Continue reading “Cory’s Corner of Bliss”

findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was already kneeling when I walked into the living room, a soft, almost imperceptible tremor running through his body. He was dressed precisely as I’d instructed: an old, faded t-shirt that was clearly too small for him, barely covering the lacy bra I’d made him wear underneath. His hair, usually neatly styled, was a mess, indicating he’d spent the morning cleaning my apartment, just as I’d ordered.

“Good morning, little piggy,” I purred, settling onto the plush velvet armchair opposite him. He swallowed hard, his eyes – wide and pleading – fixed on my designer slippers. “Good morning, Mistress.” His voice was raspy, laced with a familiar mix of shame and fervent eagerness. It was a sound I’d grown to enjoy, the sound of a man willingly surrendering his power, his dignity, his very livelihood. “Such a compliant sissyboy, aren’t you?” I let the words hang in the air, watching him flinch slightly, then visibly melt into the humiliation. “Have you been a good little finsub and followed my instructions to the letter?”

Continue reading “Corey Is Such a Good Sissyboy Finsub”

gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was on the laptop in lingerie, as usual. Today’s appointment had just logged on. He wasn’t anything special, not like some of the others who tried to project an air of mystery or charm. This one was just average. Beige. The kind of man you’d pass on the street and forget instantly. He called himself “Braveheart’ in the chat, which felt ironic given how timid his actual keystrokes felt. He wasn’t a high roller, but consistent. Enough to make the time worthwhile. He didn’t want much in terms of conversation, and the pictures he requested were merely a precursor, an hors d’oeuvre to the real meal.

What he truly craved, what he paid for, were the words. Not just any words, but those specific phrases, strung together just so, meticulously crafted and delivered with a precise cadence. The ones that unlocked something in him, a sort of mental key turning in a lock. “Get worse, loser.” I’d type them out because I didn’t need to see his face to know what was happening on his end. The slight delays in his replies,

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pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had just gotten home from a long day at work, and as I settled into my favorite armchair, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. “Hello?” I answered, a bit hesitant. “Hi, is this Cory Dae?” a soft, timid voice inquired. “Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?” “This is Emily. We met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop near your office. You were kind enough to help me when I accidentally spilled my coffee.”

I vaguely remembered the incident, but I couldn’t recall much about her other than she was a sissy. “Oh, yes. Emily. How can I help you?” “Well, Miss, I need your help again. I’m afraid I had an accident today, and I’m embarrassed to say that I wet myself in public.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “That’s quite alright, Emily. It happens to the best of us. Are you okay now?”

Continue reading “my phone buzzed…it was Emily.”

pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Daniel wasn’t my usual type. I usually went for the brooding artist, all messy hair and existential angst. Daniel was corporate. Crisp suit, perfectly coiffed hair, the kind of guy who probably knew the exact Dow Jones closing number. But he’d been clear in his profile – and even clearer in our messages. He wanted to be pegged. And honestly? After a string of disastrous dates with said brooding artists, the clarity was refreshing.

“So,” I said, as I opened the door to my apartment. He stood on my welcome mat, looking slightly awkward, holding a bottle. “You brought drinks. How traditional.” He blushed, a surprisingly endearing look on his meticulously groomed face. “Is that okay? I wasn’t sure…” “Perfectly fine,” I reassured him, taking the bottle. “Come on in. Drinks first, or straight to business?” I winked, trying to gauge his reaction. His blush deepened. “Maybe drinks first? Ease into things?”

Continue reading “Daniel wasn’t my usual type”

abdlCory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I opened the door to find James standing on the porch, his shoulders slumped slightly. He was a regular, and I knew the signs. His red-rimmed eyes suggested a rough week, and the way he clutched his backpack to his chest told me he was feeling small and vulnerable. “Hey, James,” I said, offering a warm smile. “Come on in. I’ve got your favorite juice box chilling.” He shuffled inside, kicking off his sneakers near the door. The house was carefully curated to be a comforting space. Soft rugs, pastel colors, and a complete absence of sharp edges. It was designed to soothe.

“Rough week?” I asked gently, leading him to the oversized, plush armchair in the living room. He nodded, unable to meet my gaze. “Work’s been awful. My boss is breathing down my neck.” He finally looked up, his eyes filled with distress. “I just… I messed up and forgot a really important email.” “Everyone makes mistakes, James. It’s okay. That’s why we have second chances, and erasers, and…mamas.” I gently stroked his hair. It was soft and fine, not like a grown man’s hair at all. “Tell me about it.”

Continue reading “Consequences For James”

mom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s a confession I never expected to hear, not even from Julio. We’ve been friends since college, seen each other through bad breakups, questionable fashion choices, and career crises. We’re the kind of friends who can sit in comfortable silence for hours, knowing the other is just there. But this? This was uncharted territory.

“I know it sounds wrong,” Julio mumbled, swirling the ice in his drink. We were at O’Malley’s, our usual haunt, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses providing a thin veil of normalcy around the confessional booth we’d inadvertently created. Julio, with his easy smile and genuine concern for others, was suddenly someone I barely recognized. He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It started a few weeks ago. I was helping Mom clean out the attic. You know how she is, holding onto everything.”

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blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Mr. Davenport was different. He wasn’t aggressive or demanding, just quietly eccentric, with a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. This was my first session with him, and already, I felt a knot of nervous anticipation in my stomach. “First things first,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble. “The pantyhose.”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. Black pantyhose were hardly the strangest request I’d received. I slipped them on in the small, cluttered bathroom, the nylon cool against my skin. When I emerged, he was sitting in a plush armchair, a stopwatch in his hand. “And now, my dear, something sticky. From your pantry, anything will do.” My pantry was a chaotic testament to my haphazard cooking habits. I rummaged through jars and cans, finally grabbing a bottle of honey. It felt cliché, but undeniably, honey reeked of stickiness.

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bukake

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve seen a lot in this line of work, regularly catering to all kinds of desires, but Reed was a new experience. He wasn’t looking for the usual. He had this fantasy, he explained, a very specific tableau he wanted to create for years before we met. And honestly, I’m a sucker for helping people explore their passions! He seemed genuine, a little nervous, and the money was good, so I was in.

The hotel room was generic, beige on beige, but clean enough. I got Reed settled in a chair in his underpants, with a slightly bewildered look on his face. “Just relax,” I told him, smoothing down my tight little halter dress so my tits didn’t pop out. “I promise, Reed. Everything’s going to happen exactly as you imagined.”

Continue reading “I’ve seen a lot in this line of work”