Daddy’s Toy

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

There are different types of men, and it makes sense that they would have different hobbies. Some men come home from a long day and plop down on the couch to watch sports. Others spend their time playing video games. Daddy likes to play with his toy.

He came home from a long day of work looking beat down. By the sun and by the hard labor of his blue-collar job. “Come here, girl.” He huffed as he sat down to kick off his boots. I watched the way his shoulders sagged into the couch, and how his eyes devoured me. I was wearing black lace panties and a loose tank top. No bra, just to tease him with the way the tips of my erect nipples drew up the thin fabric. His big hand patted his thigh, and I took a seat in his lap.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I need cock and I need it now. Thick, veiny, pulsing. I need to feel the sweet film of a fresh load of cum on the roof of my mouth, as it slides down my throat and into my starving belly. Whenever I close my eyes, I can taste it. The sweetness, the saltiness, the hot cream against my tongue. My jaw aches with the involuntary clenching of a woman who hasn’t sucked a cock in weeks, despite being a slut who sucks cock all day long. I just can’t get enough!

If I open my mouth to speak, I’m terrified that the longing will spill out as a a desperate, raspy confession. I visualize them constantly, thinking about the weight of a big one as I pull it out of a sexy man’s pants and start licking it, teasing it, before I shove it all the way into my mouth and down my throat. I think about the slow, deliberate glide of salty pre-cum hitting my taste buds and the way it makes my vision blur, just for a millisecond, as I bounce my entire face up and down the shaft.

Continue reading “Amber Tomsin: Cock Hunter”

bbl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

As I walked around my neighborhood the other day, I caught a glimpse of a man near the corner café. His coffee cup was practically suspended mid-air as his gaze drifted downward, completely forgetting the conversation he was having with his companion. It was a look I had grown accustomed to ever since I had my BBL last summer.

I didn’t feel like a victim of unwanted attention or anything. Rather, I felt like a masterpiece on display. Some only wanted to admire it, while others longed to touch it…taste it…fuck it…some even wanted to smell it! Which was fine by me, as I’d spent years living as a flat booty babe who could only dream of the day when I’d strut through the city and watch the world tilt on its axis just to get a better look at my fat ass!

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Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

I knew it was coming sooner or later. It’s no secret that I don’t do well in his class. I knew I was failing, again. So I decided to take things into my own hands and be proactive. The only way he’s going to pass me is if I do sexual favors for him. I didn’t want to wait for him to start demanding. I was surprised that he hadn’t already. But when class was over, he just stepped out of the room. So I got under his desk and waited for him to return. It’s a thing we do. I get under his desk and give him a blow job while he sits there. But students started pouring in for the next class before he did. Then I finally heard the door close. A woman’s voice began explaining that she would be teaching the class because Mr. Beckett had an appointment. I couldn’t believe it. It was Mrs. Beckett, his wife. How was I going to explain this? She had already caught us in the past. So of course she was going to know exactly what was going on. But the three of us have also done things together.

Continue reading “I Knew It Was Coming”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The webcam light flickered to life, bathing my room in a cool, clinical blue glow. On the screen, Mark sat in his dimly lit office. A half-empty glass of liquid glinting beside his keyboard. He was a new acquisition, one who had paid a premium for my undivided attention, but he was already failing the test.

“Good evening, Mark,” I said. He looked at the screen. His pupils were dilated and his face flushed with the telltale heat of a drinking problem. “Stella,” he slurred. “You look…um, I…I want you to dominate me.” I didn’t smile. Instead, I let the silence stretch until the air in his room felt heavy enough to scare him a little. “Stop,” I commanded, as I watched him jack his cock under his desk.

Continue reading “Mark learned the hard way”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The first one caught my eye at 2 am. A tweet that read, “I’m lost. Need a hand to hold.” The author’s thin‑lined profile picture was of a man with a half‑smile, signed with his handle @MourningMoth. I replied, not with a greeting but with a command. “Close your eyes. Breathe. Count to three, then type ‘ready’.” The reply came instantly. They usually do.

From there, the dance began. I instructed him to write down his limits, his safe words, and the things that made the darkness feel comfortable. He obeyed and explained that each line he typed was a confession he could not make to anyone else. Of course it was! lol

Continue reading “Lost Subs on X”

Kara 1-844-332-2639 ext 306

There is just something about dressing up a sissy boy that delights me. I guess all girls loved to play dress up, but dressing up as sissies is so much more fun. Surely I could play in my closet, trying on all the sexy dresses and heels I’ve acquired, but I’d rather dress up my sissy boy. He gets so excited when I call him over because he already knows what to expect. Today was slightly different, but I’ve decided to surprise him once I’ve dressed him all up.

 

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I stood at the grease-stained counter, twisting my purse strap until my knuckles turned white. Across from me stood Elias Miller. He looked as though he was carved out of rusted scrap metal and bad intentions, as he tapped a thick, calloused finger against the invoice for my car service.

“That’ll be eight hundred and forty, Amber,” he said. He didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The silence in the shop was heavy, filled only by the smell of burnt rubber and motor oil. I swallowed hard, as the sudden dryness in my throat made it difficult to breathe. “Elias, I…I don’t have it. Not today. I thought I had another week before payment was due.”

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Danika * (844) 332-2639 x 466

There is something inherently sexy about spring. The sun revives us, the earth itself working to become fertile; plants and birds alike come to life. There are numerous texts throughout history that speak of fertility rituals across every culture. I would like to focus on a particular work that is fueling my current fantasies. The Histories by Herodotus speaks of Sacred Sex Temples in Mesopotamia. At the start of spring, it is said that women would go to these sacred temples and wait until a man offered her money in exchange for access to her body. He would then fuck her in the sacred temples as an offering to the goddess Inanna.

I can’t even begin to tell you how wet it makes my panties, how much I want to touch myself at the thought of offering myself to a stranger in a Sacred Sex Temple.

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Puppet Master

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The only light in my apartment is a single bulb swinging from a loose cord. Puppet, my nickname for the man who walks the line between devotion and dread, is already waiting in my living room with his shoulders hunched as if he’s bracing for a storm he cannot see. His eyes remain fixed on the floorboards and I can hear his breath. It sounds shallow, like the rhythm of a heart that beats faster when it knows it is being watched.

“Stella,” he whispers, trembling. I smile and he flinches. The movement is tiny, but enough to tell me he is listening. The rules between us are more of a contract that’s etched in ink and fear. Obey, or the consequences will be more than a bruised ego. He knows the price of disobedience. Exile, humiliation, the kind of silence that follows you into the night.

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