Category: erotic phonesex

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains; casting a warm, dappled pattern across the rumpled sheets of our bed. It was one of those rare, quiet Sundays where the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us wrapped in the lazy haze of midday.

I leaned against the headboard, watching him sleep. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only sound in the room, save for the soft rustle of the linen every time you shifted. A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and I reached across the small distance between us.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, my fingertips barely brushed his cheek; tracing the line of his jaw with a featherlight touch. Trailing my fingers up, I gently brushed the hair off of his forehead. His skin was warm, radiating a comforting heat that seemed to draw me closer. He let out a contented sigh, shifting toward my touch as a faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

I watched as his eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep and dark with a quiet affection that always makes my heart skip. He didn’t speak; instead, he

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blowjob

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I was walking through the park when I saw him. He was leaning against a black iron lamp post, looking like he’d been dragged out of a noir film. Trench coat, brooding features, and eyes like shards of obsidian. As I moved past him, he tracked me with his gaze. “You’re going to get soaked,” he said. “I like the rain,” I replied, slowing my pace.

“So do I,” he said with a smirk. The first drop hit, then a dozen more, followed by a sudden, heavy downpour. We both retreated into an empty alcove just as the downpour turned torrential. He gave me a cheeky grin, but wasted no time. When he kissed me, it wasn’t gentle. It was more like a collision of teeth and heat that tasted like impending ruin. His hands found my waist, pulling me so hard against him that I felt the solid line of his cock hardening through his pants.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The late afternoon sun blazed over the back yard, turning the pool into a shimmering sheet of glass. In the room off the patio, the air conditioner did little to cut through the mounting humidity of the afternoon. Nor did it do anything to cut down on the tension that was building between my son’s college tutor and me.

He was a brilliant and focused grad student. He was sitting hunched over a stack of textbooks, reviewing my son’s latest essay. The man was the picture of academic discipline; but today, his focus was fraying. From across the kitchen counter, I watched the way he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time, and the way his eyes darted toward the sliding glass door led to the patio.

“You look like you’re losing the war with… Hamlet?” I said, leaning forward to try and read the paper upside down. My blouse hung low, showing ample cleavage. I looked up in time to see his eyes dart away from the show I’d inadvertently given him.

I smirked and walked behind him, lightly pressing against his back to look over his shoulder at the scrawled papers beneath him. The scent of citrus and musk enveloped me.

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The moment he stepped across the threshold of my apartment, his gaze fixed firmly on the floorboards as if they held the secrets to his inevitable surrender. I sat reclined in my leather chair, watching him with a calculated stillness that seemed to draw the breath right out of his lungs. It’s always fun, being hired to ruin a powerful man. I knew full well that he craved the structure I provided more than he craved his own autonomy.

His movements were awkward and hesitant, like a silent plea for acknowledgement written across his flushed features. I tapped my fingers against the arm of my chair and demanded he look me in the eye. As his chin slowly tilted upward, I saw the raw, exposed vulnerability that flickered behind his tired eyes. He was mine in every sense of the word. A polished instrument of devotion that required my constant, firm guidance to function at peace.

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lover

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Mistress Anna was seeing a business man. At first, he spoiled her rotten with gifts, and flowers and attention like no one had ever before. He was a filthy degenerate of a fetishist, and she fulfilled his every single need.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

 

Do you have a go-to snack in the kitchen? Something a little sweet, that can be grabbed out of a jar, and eaten quickly as you do other things. Mine is marshmallows or chocolate chips. Both are easy to eat on the go, and satisfy, albeit temporarily, a sweet tooth. Imagine my surprise when a friend came over who had never indulged in a sweet snack from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” My friend asked as I popped a handful of marshmallows in my mouth.

“Having a snack?” I responded, glancing over at my friend across the island countertop. “Would you like some?” I stretched my hand out, offering a handful of nearly gooey marshmallows to him.

“I’ve never had these. What are they?” He gingerly picks one up and gives it an experimental squeeze.

“You’ve never had marshmallows before?” I was dumbfounded.

“No. Growing up we ate mostly rice and vegetables. Occasionally we’d get to have meat. What is a marshmallow?” He responded, continuing to squish the malleable treat in his fingers.

“It’s kind of sweet? Sort of chewy and gooey. It’s very sticky when it melts.” I tried to describe it. I had no clue what…

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On Top Of The Mesa

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

The truck rumbled to a stop at the top of the Mesa, and he reached over to touch my cheek. I was looking out the windshield, in awe of the landscape under the setting sun. “It’ll be cold once the sun goes down.” His fingers trailed down my throat and tugged the collar of the jacket I wore. “Zip this up.” I nodded, and my fingers deftly tugged the zipper from my hips to my throat without ever looking away from the view before me.

I heard him chuckle and finally pulled my gaze away from the burning sky to focus on his face. “Ready, baby girl?” He slipped out of the truck when I nodded, but left the driver’s side door wide open. I watched him move around to the passenger side, then he pulled my door open. I turned my body to melt into his chest and slink down his front until my feet hit the dust-covered rock surface of the Mesa. His long fingers curled around my wrist and pulled my fingers to his mouth. “Be careful of the edge.” The look in his eyes was serious before he released me to explore.

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a ritual

Posted 1 month ago by Stella

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I’d met him in an underground club where the bass rattled your teeth and the air tasted of ozone and cedar. He was a creature of sharp angles, layers of charcoal linen, and eyes that held the flat, impenetrable darkness of an abyss. When he touched me, it felt like an invitation to a ritual I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy.

Tonight, the room was lit only by a cluster of wax candles that wept long, distorted trails of onto the floorboards. I stood in the center of the room, feeling my heart beat frantically drum against my ribs. Silas moved behind me. His hands felt cold against my skin, sending a jolt of ice-cold electricity down my spine.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

I promised to help a friend with his studies and agreed to meet him at a nearby cafe. I got out of my car and checked my phone to see if he had already snagged a booth. A message popped up; clicking it open, I read.

‘I’m in a booth straight back, to the right.’ I smiled at his perfect timing and made my way through the parking lot, following his directions to the booth once I was inside. Walking up to the table, my pace slowed. His bag, laptop and several books were spread across the whole table; leaving me nowhere to sit. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this.” I smiled walking closer, “Where am I supposed to sit?

He looked up and smiled back. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Why don’t you sit here?” He brought his hands out from under the table to gesture to his side of the table. I quirked an eyebrow at him and put my purse on the chair opposite him before turning to sit next to him. I felt one of his hands slide up my skirt and pull my panties to the side, and the other on my hip guiding me to sit in 

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The house was finally silent after I had spent almost two hours wrangling my ABDL babies into their cribs and onesies. I stood in the doorway of the nursery, listening to the soft, rhythmic sound of paci’s clicking against their teeth and the gentle crinkle of diapers under cozy pajamas. My Mama responsibilities had been satisfied for the night, but as I smoothed the blankets over my slumbering boys, a different, more adult kind of restlessness began to creep into my veins.

I retreated to my bedroom and caught my reflection in the vanity mirror, noting the faint traces of baby powder on my sleeve and the slight exhaustion crinkling the corners of my eyes. A wicked, mischievous smile spread across my face as I peeled off my clothes. The “Mommy” persona was effectively off-duty and in its place, the woman who craved a bit of high-octane, grown-up attention was screaming for a release that had absolutely nothing to do with lullabies.

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