Author: Francie

Queening

Posted 1 week ago by Francie

Queening

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As a powerful, witchy woman, I know my place. I belong on a pedestal or a fucking throne. And there is no better way to remind a man of my status than Queening. I’m not talking about the hesitant, careful face some women do when their man begs them to ride his face. No, I’m talking about perching on my rightful place and not caring how whoever under me is faring.

My whole weight pressing into his face as his jaw works to please me. Why should I tire my perfect thighs trying to ensure he can breathe? A man is always beneath me, and nothing reminds him more of that than letting him break his neck trying to please me.

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Franny Feeds You A Glory Hole Lunch

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Ray turned his face away, but my nails bit into his jaw to turn his lips back toward the hole. He wore a mask that covered the upper half of his face. His mouth was coated in slimy drool and ropes of precum. “I don’t want to swallow it.” He cried, but I tugged him by the jaw, closer to the throbbing cock poking out of the hole.

“It’s the only lunch you’ll get. Don’t be ungrateful.” I stood over him as he kneeled on the sticky floor of the glory hole. My thumb pressed into the indent in Ray’s chin, forcing his mouth back open. He may be begging for this to end, but his cock was rock hard between his legs as I forced him to be a big, gay, cocksucker.

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You Were Made To Be Mounted

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“Wait, I’m not sure.” The quiver in your voice makes my pussy wet. I love that you’re unsure and scared. My hand rubs over your back gently, and I moan. After you slipped that little secret curiosity about being pegged, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about fucking you. I’d convinced you to let me try, but still, you’re hesitant. “You’ll go slow?” You ask me over your shoulder, and I nod. It’s a lie. I have no intention of being gentle or slow once I break into your virgin asshole.

My hand slips over your ass cheeks, and I giggle when they clench. Then I cup your balls, kneading them in my hand as I purr, “You were made to be mounted, baby. Just relax.”

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As a beta male, there is just nothing you can do when he comes for what he wants. That lack of confidence and ability to tolerate confrontation is the reason he has my wrists tied over my head with me seated between his long legs. He stormed into the house and simply said he was going to show you what we’d been doing behind your back.

A small glimmer inside of me hoped you would stand up for our relationship and tell him no. I wanted you to get mad and stake your claim on me. Hoping you would tell him I’m your girl and that he couldn’t have me, but you didn’t.

Continue reading “Your Girl But His Slut” →

Cute Little Four Incher

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“Are you ready to meet him?” D asked when he walked out of the bathroom. I was sitting at the end of the bed with a smile. He’d told me his penis was smaller than average but still decent. My shoulders bobbed up and down with my excitement. He grinned, but there was a nervousness to his hands when he pushed down his pants.

D was wearing pink, bikini cut panties, and the outline of his cute little hard-on stretched against the fabric. There was a small darkened spot near the head where his little penis had been drooling, waiting to meet me. “Awe,” I cooed and reached out to rub the crotch of his panties. “You were right. He isn’t big enough for me.”

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Honestly, it’s fucking pathetic. You motion for me to sit on your lap and whisper foul things in your ear. With every degrading, humiliating word that spills from my pretty pouted lips, your dumb dick gets harder and harder. Oh, does the addicted loser wanna touch it? Rub it? It isn’t like it’s big enough for you to actually stroke it.

Handsex is the only kind of sex you’ll ever get, so I hope you’re good and used to it. It’s drizzle some lube over your pencil-thin nub and get to work. The longer you edge, the more money I make.

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You can’t call me because “she’s” there. It’s an excuse I’m growing tired of. When we’re together, you claim I know you better than her. That I give you the things she’d never even think to give you. You’ve said I take you places she’s too afraid to explore. Wifey-poo is terribly selfish and never thinks of your feelings, and yet…

Yet you refuse to leave her. Why do you stay when it’s clear she’ll never be me? Your lazy, uncouth wife will never come close to making you as happy and satisfied as I do. The choice is yours; after all, I’d never force you into something you didn’t want to do, but the longer you stay in your sad, little comfort zone, the better the chance is of you losing me.

Continue reading “She’ll Never Be Me” →

Tiny Little Pantie Pest

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You know the saying, “I’ve got ants in my panties?” Well, I have tiny little tic-tac-sized pests in my panties. It isn’t what you think, lol. No, I’ve been shrinking and collecting men to keep in my undies for my own pleasure. I have about six men in there now who’ve been blasted with my laser beam. They shrink before my eyes register the flash, and I must wear special glasses to find them afterward. Sometimes, they almost escape through the puddle of clothes left over from the sudden size change.

Once I’ve found the new little toy, I peel back my panties and add the little pest to my collection. I really love the way they squirm and crawl around on my pussy all day. The panties I keep them in are too tight for anyone to escape. The only way they are getting out of that hot, moist terrain is if I’d let them. And I’m never letting them out of my control!

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Girls Night

Posted 4 months ago by Francie

Girls Night

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“Do you have to go out again?” Charlie whined from where he sat at the end of the bed, watching me get dressed for another night out. I smiled softly at him, the lie that was about to come out of my mouth was already staining my cheeks pink.

“It’s just a girls’ night. Don’t worry so much.” I could see the gears in his head turning. He wanted to ask why I was wearing such sexy lingerie if it was only a girls’ night. Or why I’d fussed so much over my hair, but he knew he’d only upset me by asking. We both knew I’d been secretive lately. Hiding my phone from him and not showing up when I say I will. Or coming home much later than planned. Charlie knew another man was in the picture; he just hadn’t allowed himself to admit it yet.

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S.W.A.K

Posted 5 months ago by Francie

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Do you remember when you started writing your first love notes? How you’d spill your secrets with ink, confident no one but the intended eyes would read them. Did you scribble “S.W.A.K” on the back, or was that something just girls did? Do you remember what it stood for?

Sealed with a kiss. Your confession of love and lust may have been sealed with a press of your lips to the envelope, but I hate to tell you the girl you sent it with shared your words. Even then, you were nothing but a laughing stock to women.

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