Category: fetish phonesex

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

“Dr. Julie, my Daddy looks at me like he’s having naughty thoughts. But I like it. I know it’s wrong. Why do I get excited when he looks at me like that? Lately I’ve been doing things to see what kind of reactions I can get. I’ve been wearing little t-shirts and panties around the house. Or shorts that are so little that my butt cheeks hang out. I’ve even worn my short little nightgown with no panties underneath. And I made sure to spread my legs so he could see. That time he went running into the bathroom to take a shower. Why does it make me so tingly and wet? When I lay in bed at night, I think about it. I touch myself. The more I do it, the better it feels. Then I get this tingly sensation all down there and in my tummy. It makes me feel so wrong having thoughts like that about my Daddy. Do other girls feel like this too? Or is it just me? I’m so ashamed to admit that I think about Daddy doing things to me.

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Legs Contest

Posted 1 day ago by Amber

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I stood center stage, as the hardwood beneath my heels vibrated with the roar of the crowd. My focus; however, remained entirely on the panel of judges. Specifically, after weeks of studying him in preparation for today, I was focused on Arthur Vane.

Vane may have been a leg contest connsoeur, but he didn’t care about muscle tone or athletic symmetry. It turned out, he had a singular, obsessive weakness…the tactile, liquid sheen of high denier hosiery. Here’s the thing, guys. The winner of the contest was to be awarded a 1 year contract with a top modeling agency, so of course I wanted to win. I needed it!

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A Boy's First Boob

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

 While everyone can agree that breastfeeding is the most beneficial form of feeding for little ones, not many can agree on how long it is best to breastfeed. Some say only a few months are needed. Others think that continuing breastfeeding for the first few years of life sets the baby up for healthy, strong bones, but what of the bond?

There is a magical connection that happens between Mother and baby during breastfeeding. A bond that I personally don’t think should end just because the baby is capable of eating solid foods. In fact, I think that grown men could see enormous benefits in still breastfeeding today.

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Black Lover

Avery 1-844-332-2639 ext. 228

I love knowing that my little, white boyfriend is watching me with my big black lover. At first he was too shy to be involved but now he can’t seem to get enough of seeing the real pleasure on my face that only comes from a big cock.

He often stands quietly in the doorway, hands resting in his pockets, as he watches us from across the room. My black lover has me bent over, perfectly in line with his cock, making me beg for him. You can see the faint lines of tension in my shoulders with the anticipation of it all. And I love that when he slides into me it takes my breath away. Every single time! My boyfriend knows this sexual build up in me well as it’s the same before every cuck session.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My collection of toys is a gallery of exquisite agony and, to be entirely honest with you, I love it. Each object holds its own place in my heart; however, there are two in particular that I love the most. There’s a heavy, weighted flogger constructed from braided leather that feels like a conversation with gravity every time I use it. I’ve also recently acquired a set of glass blown dilators that shimmer like trapped lightning under the dim glow of my crystal chandelier.

When I’m here in my dungeon, I’m not Stella the accountant, or Stella the daughter, or Stella the woman who worries about the passage of time. I’m only known as Mistress Stella, the creator of sensations. I love the way the room seems to inhale when I’m ready to play. There’s a specific kind of power in being the stillness at the heart of the storm, and I relish every moment of it. I pick up a single, slender crop, testing the weight of it against my palm. The leather is supple, worn smooth by years of practiced intent.

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

Here is the link to Macrame Obsession Part 1 https://phonesexcandy.com/macrame-obsession/#more-113988

The fan hitting my white sweat drenched dress was making my nipples hard. And the way it clung on to every curve of my body made it impossible to hide the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. To make things worse, I was so aroused by watching the instructor tie the knots, that I wasn’t learning how to do it. And now he was calling us up one at a time to test us on the different knots. I was mortified. My heart was racing. The only thing I could do was hope that I could see enough of the students do them that I learned how before my turn. I was trying so hard to pay attention but their backs were towards us so it was hard to see. And the knots were very confusing to me. I was so screwed. When he called my name, I knew everyone could see right through my dress. But at that point, it was my only hope. I thought maybe if I flirted with him, he would go easy on me. But I was wrong. He was not amused.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

He was between my thighs, exactly where he liked to be, with his face pressed into the fabric of my silk robe. I stared at the ceiling, as my eyes traced the cracks in the plaster. I felt nothing but a cold, clinical detachment. Jakob was a man of specific, diminishing appetites. He adored the feeling of being small, of being conquered, of being treated as nothing more than a footstool. For a while, the novelty had been enough. But novelty is a fleeting currency and…well…I had spent every last cent of it.

“Is that all you’ve got, Jakob?” I asked, not so innocently. He knew he couldn’t provide the raw, overwhelming friction I craved. He was a plaything, not a partner, and I was starving. “I’m going out,” I said, rising from the edge of the bed. Jakob stayed knelt on the floor, with his hands folded neatly in his lap, looking up at me with that signature blend of adoration and anxious eagerness. “Will you be late, Amber?” he asked.

Continue reading “I felt nothing, so I cucked him” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

If you haven’t guessed by now, I am entirely, unapologetically obsessed with dicks. There is something about a cock in my mouth that feels like a symphony to my senses. I like to take my time selecting the perfect specimen, then warm it up just enough so the precum begins to glisten. The weight of a thick juicy cock in my hand, and the smooth, firm texture in my mouth always promises pure satisfaction for both of us.

I remember the first time I realized how much I truly loved sucking on cocks. It wasn’t just the flavor of the cock itself, but the physicality of sucking one that really sold me on it. I met a guy at a small bistro in NYC and soon found myself slowly and seductively going down on him under the table, letting the taste of his precum linger on my tongue. That man’s thick creamy cum burst forth, coating my tongue with his salty goodness. I wasn’t just tasting it, I was intimately exploring every inch!

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Your Mouth Is a Cunt

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

My finger traces the outline of your lower lip. Drool cascades down your chin as the open-mouth gag keeps your hole stretched wide. There are tears of struggle leaking down your cheeks, and more blink free when I glide two of my fingers along the surface of your tongue and right down your throat. My fingers wiggle in the back of your throat, and I release an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

“You’re still gagging way too easily.” I snatch my fingers free and wipe your spittle on your cheek. Mixing it with your tears. “Fuck his cunt again.” I bark at the throat-training bull standing beside me.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He’s trembling on the cold linoleum floor, with his head bowed and rope coiled around his wrists. His eyes keep darting to the edge of the room where a single candle sputters. He was supposed to be silent, yet he laughed. I warned him, earlier. “Speak when I say.” He chose not to listen.

The candlelight dances across his features, painting them in shades of guilt and anticipation. “Come,” I command. He stands, but his gaze does not meet my eyes. I circle him, as the leather strap in my hand swallows the light. “Listen,” I say, as my fingertips brush the strap’s surface. His head snaps up, and his eyes are wide and pleading. I lay the strap across his chest. “Your mistake was not in the sound you made, but in the thought that you could speak without consequence.”

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