Anna 1-844-332-2639 EXT 203
Late one Friday Night, a pretty little blonde was sitting at home. He was contemplating going out,
but instead he called his Auntie Anna. She told him not to go out, that it was too late, and it
would only result in him being tired and drained the next day, instead Auntie Anna insisted she come over and keep him company.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
I’d been very stressed recently and had decided to treat myself. I decided to book an appointment with a masseuse. When I made it to the massage parlor. I was greeted by the smell of cedar and eucalyptus, and I felt myself start to relax a little. Laying face down on the heated table, the crisp linen draped loosely over my back, I waited. My mind was still racing with the chaotic noise of the day, but the ambient drone of a singing bowl in the background was already calming the jumbled mess in my head.
Then, the air shifted. I heard the faint, metallic click of a bottle, followed by the soft, friction-warmed sound of palms rubbing together.
The first touch was wonderful. Two broad, oil-slicked hands descended onto my bare shoulders. They weren’t timid; the pressure was firm, heavy, and amazingly warm. A sigh escaped my lips before I could stop it, the sound swallowed by the padded headrest. The hands moved in slow, deliberate movement, gliding down the long muscles of my spine, dragging a trail of liquid heat in their wake.
Every stroke was focused, as if the masseuse could read the map of my…
Rita 844-33-CANDY Ext 413
Jake sat with his back bowed against the bench. His long arms were tied out to his sides, stretching his well-defined pecs out for me. I stood behind him with my lips traveling along his neck and nipping against his earlobe. My hand was tucked into his straining boxers. Lightly stroking his hard cock. His chest inflated and his biceps flexed against the restraints when my thumb drew over his throbbing cock head.
My sweet boy had been enduring my torment for hours, and I had no desire to end it any time soon. His heavy head rolled from one side to the other as his breath panted from him. “Please!” His barely whispered need went unanswered in the space around us.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
Victor was the golden boy of the firm, wearing perfectly tailored suits, a charming, self-assured smile, and a professional mask that I itched to dismantle. Our flirting had become a ritual of microscopic transgressions. A lingering touch when I handed him a file, a double-entendre whispered during a budget meeting, the way he would lean in just a fraction too close, and how his pupils would dilate when I caught his eye. He thought he was the hunter, but he had no idea he was walking straight into a web.
Last Friday, I finally dropped the bait. I left a small, cream-colored envelope on his desk with nothing but my home address, a time (9:00 PM) and a lipstick print in my signature shade of red. He had commented on it the week before, saying it was “Beautiful,” so I knew he would recognize that the note was from me.
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
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.
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.
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.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
I don’t even look up from my laptop as I hear the hesitation in his footsteps. I know exactly the type of man who is standing on the other side of my mahogany door. It’s a man of stature, probably a CEO or a surgeon. Someone who spends his days forcing the world to bend to his will. Here; however, he is anything but.
“Come in,” I say, calmly. His posture is already collapsing into the familiar slouch of a man desperate to be relieved of his own authority. He is shaking, just slightly. I love that tremor. It’s the sound of a man discovering that the weight of the world is too heavy and he’s finally found someone who can crush him under it. And, boy, do I love crushing a man.
xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208
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.