Category: fetish phonesex

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” →

Sissy Mistress Janine 1-844-332-2639 ext 462

I identified him for what he truly was the moment I laid eyes upon him.  It existed in the sway of his hips, the delicate manner in which he held his hand out, and the soft, effeminate tone of his voice.  First, I let him know that I knew his secret even if he wasn’t aware of it himself.  Then I tucked his hand into the crook of my arm, patting it reassuringly.  I told him to put himself in my very capable hands.  His sissy training started right then and there.  When he didn’t put up even a little bit of resistance, I knew he was truly ready.

Continue reading “Sissy Training with Mistress Janine” →

glory hole blog

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

“You won’t believe the night I had, Jamie,” Randy’s voice crackled, already a little hoarse, buzzing with the afterglow of his nocturnal adventures. He was a creature of the shadows, and his stories were stained with the same grime. I sat at my kitchen table, the half-eaten remains of a microwave meal cooling in front of me. Randy, on the other hand, was sitting in his car, still slick with the memory of anonymous mouths and urgent hands.

“Got a new spot,” he continued, excitedly. “Back of the old cinema, you know the one? Dark. Perfect. There was this big guy, hairy hands. Didn’t even say a word, just went for it.” He launched into the details, the hot breath, the rough stubble, the frantic rhythm against the plywood partition. He painted the scene with such visceral honesty, I could almost smell the stale sex and the cheap cleaner.

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

“I love pussy hair Julie. It’s such a turn on. I love how it looks, how it feels, how it smells, how it tastes. It’s an addiction, a fetish. I just can’t get enough. But the problem is that these days so many women wax or shave their pussy hair. Or they get permanent hair removal. I don’t understand it. I know. To each their own. But I just don’t get this modern trend. I would love to go back to the seventies. Everyone had big, thick, musky bushes. I miss those good old days.” He confessed.

So I decided to give him what he had been needing and longing for. He told me that he hadn’t been able to enjoy pussy hair in so many years. His wife had gotten permanent hair removal several years ago, even though he had asked her not to. And his mistress gets waxed regularly. She wasn’t open to allowing it to grow out either. The poor guy just wanted to bury his face in a bush. I had a plan. I was going to grow some out for him. But it was going to be a surprise. So I didn’t tell him.

Continue reading ““I Love Pussy Hair Julie”” →

extra-terrestrial blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

They say the oldest profession adapts to anything. Mon Dieu, they were not wrong. Here I am, French as a baguette, running my little ’boutique sensuelle’ on Rue St. Dennis in beautiful Montreal (sweet bebe, you thought I was Parisienne French, didn’t you?). The clients? Well, that’s where it gets…interesting. You see, most of them aren’t human. They’re not even from planet earth.

Take tonight. My appointment, a Xylorian (pronounced “Sy-lor-ee-anne”) named Gleep, looked like a particularly disgruntled pile of amethyst-colored jello. Four eye-stalks, all twitching. He’s from a species that primarily communicates via bioluminescent mucus, which, let me tell you, makes for some truly messy pillow talk. And the smell! Like fermented algae and existential dread, even with the station’s advanced atmospheric scrubbers. But, c’est la vie, Gleep pays in rare crystals, which are currently trending on the galactic market. He also (naturally) leave quite the trail of slime after he cums.

Continue reading ““the oldest profession adapts to anything”” →

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

I want to smother my lover with my big, luscious titties. Yes, you heard that right, and I know you’re already getting turned on just by reading this. I’m not ashamed of my desires, and I’m here to embrace them fully.

Today is the day he’s coming over. He’s been anticipating this moment, and so have I. We’ve been texting all day, exchanging naughty messages about what we’re going to do to each other.

As soon as he walks through the door, I pull him close and wrap my arms around him. I can feel his excitement as he presses his body against mine. We kiss passionately, our tongues intertwining, and I can’t help but grind my hips against him.

“Smother you with my titties?” I whisper seductively in his ear.

Continue reading “Big, Luscious Titties!” →

sexy stepmom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My new husband was away on business, so it was just his son Johnny and I in the house for the next 2 weeks. I was looking for something to do, something that would help us feel closer, when it dawned on me. I should teach him how to sexually please a woman! So, I went to my bedroom and put on the sexiest pair of red lace panties and a matching bra, and then added a sheer red robe and black stripper heels. I put my hair up in a messy bun, as I didn’t want to tangle it. This could get wild.

Johnny gulped as I made my way down the stairs. He had been playing video games and was not expecting me to appear in such an outfit. I sat in front of him, on the coffee table, blocking his view of the television. Johnny sat up, looking me up and down as I crossed my legs. “You like what you see, Johnny?” I asked, looking him in the eye. He nodded eagerly as I slipped off my robe, revealing my lacy red bra. I could see the outline of his hard dick

Continue reading “Teaching My Stepson Johnny How To Please Me” →

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”” →

Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403

Last week I snooped though Mommy Anna’s room and found her special gummies.  She caught me and told me they weren’t for little girls.  Mommy told me to stay out of her special gummies or I’d end up over her knee.  My naughty mind developed a plan to get my little brother Ronnie in trouble.  I told him to follow me into Mommy’s room.  Then I showed him the special gummies she had hidden in her drawer.  I convinced him to eat one.  As he chewed, I giggled and asked him if he wanted another one.  He took another one out of the bottle and chewed it all up.

Continue reading “Zoey Finds Mommy Anna’s Special Gummies” →

whore

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Ah, the whispers. They follow me, rustling through the market stalls, fluttering down cobbled streets. “La Française,” they hiss, as if my origin were a mark of evil itself. “That tramp. She’s a lady of the night, you know.” And then the little tittering laughs, like dry leaves moving across the pavement.

Me? I just tuck a rogue curl behind my ear, adjust the scarf I found near the canal – a surprisingly chic silk, mind you – and flash them a smile. A wide, toothy grin that usually makes them flinch. Because, mon chéri, they’re right. Every last word of it. They call me Stella. Or sometimes, if they’re feeling particularly brave and convinced of their own moral superiority, “that hussy.” I don’t mind. A name is a name, and a hussy, well, a hussy knows how to live.

Continue reading ““La Whore Française”” →