Category: fetish phonesex

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I never expected to be attracted to my stepson, but I suppose stranger things have happened. It all started one evening when it was just the two of us at home. I decided to open a bottle of red and gave him a few sips as a treat, while we sat on the patio in our yard. Every time he leaned in to say something to me, his cologne made my pulse jump in a way that felt entirely forbidden and wildly addictive. Thankfully, my husband had no idea I was lusting after his son.

There was a thrill in the air that made my skin prickle with anticipation, as if I were a character in a movie who had finally decided to ignore the script and improvise the most scandalous scene in the entire film. He seemed to get the hint and flirted with me a little, which only made things feel more intense. He looked at me with a mixture of raw curiosity and unabashed admiration, and for a fleeting moment, I forgot about things like mortgages, career stress, and the boring weight of parental responsibility.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My roster of submissive men is long. Most thrive under the weight of my boot. Most find peace in the surrender. But then there is Elias. He’s…a bit of a glitch in my system. He doesn’t want simple obedience, he wants to see how far he can push me. Elias is the type of guy who treats my boundaries like suggestions and my commands like challenges to his own crumbling ego.

Last night, for example, he smirked when I told him to kneel. Just as I was about to correct him, his eyes darted to my face with that infuriating, inquisitive glimmer. He wasn’t looking for release, he was looking for a crack in my composure. Instead, he found the cold, clinical end of my patience.

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Pathetic Puppet

Posted 4 weeks ago by Amber

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Puppet is here, just as he always is. He is kneeling on the bare hardwood with his spine straight and his hands tucked neatly behind his back. He doesn’t speak unless I grant him permission and he doesn’t move unless I tell him to. His name really does suit him.

“Look up,” I say, quietly. My voice barely rises above the hum of the air conditioner. Instantly, his head tilts back. His eyes are wide and glassy with a desperate, frantic devotion that borders on worship. He is a masterpiece of my own making, stripped of his autonomy until he is nothing more than a vessel for my whims.

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That Time I Fucked A Cop

Lea 1844-332-2639 Ext. 244

Yesterday, in a call, a guy asked me what the craziest thing I’d ever done was. My mind went blank. How do you pick the craziest thing when you’ve always been a wild girl? It took a second to sort through my memories, and then I remembered that time I suck off a cop. That was pretty wild, I guess. Let me tell you about it.

At the time, I lived in a real small town—the kind where everyone knows everyone and their business. The crime rate was really low, and the local police had nothing better to do than sit in a tree line by the only stop sign in town. Of course, I hadn’t seen him sitting there when I blew past the sign in a hurry. He hit me with the blue lights, and I really didn’t have time or money for a ticket.

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accidents

Anna 1-844-332-2639 EXT 203

Mommy returned Tami to the nursery, she was overdue. Overdue for punishment, for Sissy training and for being taken care of by Mommy Anna.  Mommy unlocked the door and approached the crib, but was surprised to find Tami completely soaked.

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diaper slut

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.

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Massage Bliss

Posted 1 month ago by Molly

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…

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Your Pleasure Is Mine

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.

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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.

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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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