Author: Amber

feet

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I knew what Daddy wanted. There’s only one thing that always brought that soft, knowing smile to his lips. Especially because Mommy hated it more than anything else in the world! No shoes, never shoes for this. Daddy told me I had to go to my closet and throw all of my shoes in the trash. I walked barefoot through the garden, deliberately, slowly. Across the freshly turned earth where Daddy had planted his roses, so that my soles were black and soil hid between my toes.

When I stepped back into the kitchen, I walked directly to Daddy, standing between his spread knees as he sat in his worn armchair. I extended my feet, crusted with garden debris. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, picked up my ankle and lowered his head. His tongue was warm, sweeping away the grit, the soil, the evidence of my outdoor adventure.

Continue reading “I knew what Daddy wanted.” →

military man

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My friend Heather cornered me the moment she heard her brother, Henry, was back in the city. “Amber,” she’d whispered, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m throwing him a welcome home party and need you to be there! He’s been gone for so long, and you know…you know how I feel about you and him. Just…take care of him for me, okay?”

Henry was a ruggedly handsome military man, fresh from some top-secret Pentagon assignment. He was the kind of man who made you forget your own name, especially when he was wearing that crisp uniform. I wandered into Heather’s living room and there he was, looking as fine as ever, surrounded by friends and relatives. The air crackled when he looked in my direction. Heather had given me the go-ahead, a playful shove towards destiny, and my heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

Continue reading “Henry’s Welcome Home Party” →

hallowe'en blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I spotted her immediately – a woman sitting at a table in my favorite coffee shop, engrossed in a book with a covetous title: “Dark Arts for the Desperate Soul.” Her eyes darted up, catching mine, and she quickly looked away, a flush creeping up her neck.

I approached her table with a confident stride, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help noticing your book. Are you interested in witchcraft?” She stammered, her gaze flickering between me and the cover. “Y-yes, I am. But I’ve never…I don’t know much about it.”

Continue reading “the devil woman at my favorite coffee shop” →

witch sex

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was Hallowe’en night. Outside, the mortal world celebrated with plastic masks and cheap candy. But I craved a real thrill, a true terror. I had spent seven Hallowe’ens trying to communicate with spirits, but to no avail. Tonight, I wasn’t summoning a familiar; I was calling something hungry from the deepest trench of the underworld.

My voice, raw and aching, delivered the final incantation: “Come, Shade of the Forgotten. Taste me, for I am willing.” The candles—tallow dipped in fat—did not flicker. They simply vanished, plunging the room into absolute, freezing darkness. Then, almost instantly, he materialized. He wasn’t a sheet or a spectral mist. He was the perfect, sculpted embodiment of shadow, a man stitched together from cosmic cold and palpable malevolence.

Continue reading “Sex Witch Hallowe’en” →

witches

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Our potent little jar of moon-kissed herbs and dewdrop essence sat between us on the worn oak table. The “magic salve,” as we called it, was a concoction born of generations of hedgewitch wisdom, designed not just to heal the skin, but to awaken the spirit. Beside it, our broomsticks lay ready. Not the bristly kind for sweeping the hearth, mind you, but slender, polished hazel branches, each one unique, chosen and carefully prepared for this very purpose.

With a shared, knowing smile, Kayla and I began the ritual. Dipping the tips of our broomsticks into the shimmering, emerald green salve, we coated them generously. The scent was earthy patchouli, sweet jasmine, and something wilder, like fresh rain on ancient moss. Then, with a slow, deliberate grace, we inserted our broomsticks into our dripping wet pussies, pulling and pushing them in and out of our fuck holes as we moaned with pleasure, ensuring all of the salve

Continue reading “Magic Salve and Broomsticks” →

big dick

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

We’d been flirting for weeks. I pulled open the door, a smile already playing on my lips. Evan stood there, shorter than me by a few inches, his dark hair a little rumpled, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was cute, undeniably, with an effortless charm that hid a surprising intensity. I always had a soft spot for guys I could look down on, literally. There was a confidence in him that transcended stature, and it was utterly captivating.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble that always sent a shiver down my spine. “Hey yourself,” I replied, stepping back to let him in. We didn’t bother with small talk. His gaze locked onto mine, a silent conversation passing between us that rendered words obsolete. His hands found my waist, warm and firm, pulling me closer until my body was flush against his. A soft gasp escaped my lips as his mouth descended, hungry and urgent. It was everything I’d imagined, and more.

Continue reading “Evan Has a Big Dick” →

slut blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was just another Friday afternoon when my phone started buzzing with an urgent message from Grandpa’s life alert system. My heart pounded as I ran to his house, fearful of what condition he would be in once I arrived. By the time I burst through the door, Kayla, the life alert dispatcher, was already on the phone. “Amber, can you see your grandfather?” she asked, her voice steady yet concerned.

There, on the floor, was my elderly grandpa, clutching his penis and writhing in discomfort. “Yep, I’ve got him in sight,” I replied, scanning the scene with a mix of horror and curiosity. Kayla instructed me to wet the tip of his penis with my saliva, explaining that it would make the process easier. I leaned in and gently moistened the affected area by spitting on it. Grandpa let out a pained groan but relaxed his grip slightly.

Continue reading “Grandpa’s Fallen…And He Can’t Cum!” →

cock witch

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Men come to me, drawn by the currents of rumor and raw, aching need. They know my reputation, whispers of the witchy domme whose pleasure is a consuming flame, and whose displeasure…well, that’s where the real magic happens. I don’t suffer fools, nor do I suffer inadequacy. My appetites are vast, a cavernous hunger that few men can truly fill.

They always approach me the same way, these eager, trembling submissives, offering themselves, their bodies, their very essence, hoping to be the one to finally quench my thirst. These men, they know the risks. They sign an invisible pact with their hopeful eyes and bated breath: absolute surrender, absolute consent to my judgment.

Continue reading “The Whispers Are True” →

cuckold

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a type. Specifically, I have two types. There’s Type A: The distinguished gentleman, preferably with a full head of silver hair, a penchant for single malt scotch, and a portfolio that could rival a small nation’s GDP. These men are wonderful conversationalists, masters of the five-star reservation, and possess a certain gravitas that only comes with decades of accrued wisdom (and even more accrued wealth). They also, almost without exception, have the libido of a particularly sluggish snail.

Then there’s Type B: The strapping twenty-something, all rippling abs, boundless energy, and an unshakeable belief that life is one long montage from a sports drink commercial. These men are less interested in discussing the nuances of global economics and more interested in, well, nuances. And by nuances, I mean anything that involves their cock.

Continue reading “Richard, The Silver Haired Cuck” →

voyeur ********* play story

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Jackson, you’ve been a very bad boy…” I purred into the microphone, my voice a low, seductive whisper. Jackson’s eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of my voice. He knew I was watching, but he didn’t know how. I could see the panic in his eyes. The fear of being caught! What a fantastic way to keep him in line, I thought to myself. No one likes a confident sub!

“On your knees, Jackson,” I commanded. He hesitated for a moment before looking towards the door where his wife was busy in the kitchen. “Now,” I added, my tone leaving no room for argument. He dropped to his knees, as his heart pounded in his chest. I could see it, the way his shirt moved with each beat, the way his breath hitched in his throat. I watched as he reached for his belt, his hands shaking as he undid the buckle.

Continue reading ““You’ve Been a Very Bad Boy, Jackson”” →