Category: fetish phonesex

met gala

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Under the bright lights of the Met Gala, I stood, a vision in silver, my mermaid gown shimmering, my hair adorned with tiny silver flowers. Willie, my ABDL boyfriend, looked dashing in his silver suit, his eyes sparkling with excitement and nervousness. We were nobodies, but tonight, we were the stars, our futuristic attire capturing the attention of every photographer on the red carpet.

As we posed for the cameras, Willie leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. I thought he was going for a sexy nibble, but instead, he whispered, “I’ve had an accident.” Trying not to show my shock as my mind raced with the implications, I reassured him, my voice steady, “It’s okay, baby. We’ll handle it.” We made our way into the venue, our strides confident despite the situation. We bumped into an old friend, who, after a quick explanation, led us to the washroom.

Continue reading “Willie and Amber Go To The Met Gala” →

Mistress Gets What Mistress Wants

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

The day had been long and stressful, so I decided to prowl the bar near the office before going home. Frustration and anger were buzzing inside of me, scratching underneath my skin like an itch I couldn’t reach. I wanted to control someone, maybe even hurt them a little.

The tiny bar was busy as I scanned the crowd for my next lucky victim. I wasn’t in the mood for playing games; the boy would have to be obviously submissive and willing to skip the small talk. My gaze moved over my options until I found him. A businessman hunched over the bar, nursing a drink. Quickly i squeezed through the patrons until my tits bumps against my targets back. He shifted a bit and barely looked over his shoulder. My hand skimmed up his side, over his shoulder to the back of his neck, where I gripped him firmly in my little hand. His whole body seemed to relax with that one hold. I pressed my lips to his ear and made my offer.

Continue reading “Mistress Gets What Mistress Wants pt1” →

Wiener Party!

Posted 5 days ago by Diana

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

You ever go to a Memorial Day BBQ and it turns into a real WIENER PARTY? The smell of burgers and hotdogs wafting through the air. I was a little tipsy from rose and my sundress was clinging to my curves. “I’m going to grab another bottle for us,” I called out to my friends as I headed into the garage, desperate for a moment of shade.

The garage was cool and dim, the treadmill and weights lined up against the walls. I made my way to the fridge in the corner, bending down to rifle through for another cold one. Suddenly, I heard the door click shut behind me. I turned around and nearly dropped the bottle when I saw who it was.

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Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403

I don’t know if it’s so chilly where you are this weekend.  But it’s a very chilly and cold Memorial Day Weekend here.  It’s supposed to be the weekend where everyone opens up their pools for summer.  But there isn’t going to be any swimming at the pool this weekend.  Good thing I have lots of great pool memories about previous adventures at the pool.  Like last year I decided to spend some time at the community pool.  I fell asleep soaking up the sun and missed the call that the pool was closing.  The head lifeguard had been checking me out all summer and told the other lifeguards to let me sleep while they cleared everyone else out.

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Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

Aynsley was just a cute college girl, but she had a dirty little secret – she was absolutely addicted to anal sex. At only 20 years old, her tight little pink asshole had already seen more cock than most women experience in a lifetime.

It all started freshman year. Aynsley had been partying, giggling and gossiping until the room started to spin.

“Looks like somebody hit it too hard, huh?” drawled a familiar voice. It was Tyler, the star quarterback and notorious manwhore. He’d been eyeing Aynsley all week.

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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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roommate

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna took on a new roommate. He was very shy and quiet, but she always secretly had the hots for him. When night fell, she could swear she heard him stroking away in his room. She was so tempted to knock on the door and ask if she could lend a hand.

There was of course, one thing that really bothered her about him: Every time she went out and came home, she noticed that things from her room would be misplaced. Her shoes, her clothes. She confronted the roommate, asking him if he had guests over. He claimed that his girlfriend had been by and was fixated by her closet, to which Miss Anna stated she didn’t mind, so long as his girlfriend put everything back where she found it.

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Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403

Let me tell you about the time I had to save Amber (unknowingly) from a Manticore.

Amber called me and asked me if I could come over to her house to help her with an emergency situation.  Of course, being a good friend and all, I immediately headed over there.  She met me at the door and grabbed my arm yanking me into her house and slamming the door.  “Hurry, follow me to the basement.” Amber said frantically.  I followed her down the stairs and looked around.  I didn’t see anything serious immediately.  But I knew she wouldn’t call for nothing.  Amber led me over to one of the walls which strangly had manacles dangling from the wall.

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pinged

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The notification pinged, a shrill, digital cry slicing through the quiet hum of Mark’s cheap laptop. He knew what it was before he even glanced at the screen. A DM from me. Or, more accurately, the DM. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. It was Tuesday. Rinse day. The day his meager freelance earnings evaporated, funneled willingly into the digital abyss of my demands. He’d managed to tuck away a tiny bit extra this week, clinging to the hope of finally replacing his cracked phone screen. Now, that same phone mocked him from the corner of his desk, a constant reminder of his weakness.

Mark sighed, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. He knew the rules. He lived by them. Or, rather, he lived for them. The thrill of the chase, the delicious self-loathing as he emptied his digital wallet, the fleeting sense of purpose it gave him. It was pathetic, he knew. Utterly and completely pathetic. He clicked the DM.

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Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

The moment I walked out of my last final exam, I knew – it was time to party! No more studying, no more stress, no more responsibility. Just a wild summer of non-stop debauchery. And like any self-respecting co-ed slut, I planned to start by getting absolutely fucked silly by the hottest college hunks on campus.

I sauntered into the biggest party of the year, my tight little minidress leaving nothing to the imagination. Every pair of eyes turned my way as I made my entrance. The bass pulsed through my core, making my swollen pussy lips quiver with anticipation.

Continue reading “School’s Out!” →