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.
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.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
“Amber,” Kevin had whispered. His hands trembled as he knelt on my bistro rug. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll quit my job, I’ll learn to braid your hair, I’ll even stop complaining about the thermostat.” I simply stared at him, with a deep, existential exhaustion. Kevin was a lovely guy. He was a “picker-upper” of dropped grocery bags and a “text-you-back-in-thirty-seconds” kind of soul. But he was also essentially the guy who looked to me for validation every time he successfully navigated a social interaction.
My dating life had become a parade of men who treated me like a fragile porcelain doll placed on a mantle. They were terrified of upsetting me, terrified of taking the lead, and frankly, terrified of the very thing that made a woman’s pulse actually race. Last week, a beta named Marcus had tried to “ask for consent” to hold my hand while we were mid-kiss. My response was to ask if he wanted me to fill out a consent form. He left, feeling insulted. lol
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
I promised to help a friend with his studies and agreed to meet him at a nearby cafe. I got out of my car and checked my phone to see if he had already snagged a booth. A message popped up; clicking it open, I read.
‘I’m in a booth straight back, to the right.’ I smiled at his perfect timing and made my way through the parking lot, following his directions to the booth once I was inside. Walking up to the table, my pace slowed. His bag, laptop and several books were spread across the whole table; leaving me nowhere to sit. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this.” I smiled walking closer, “Where am I supposed to sit?
He looked up and smiled back. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Why don’t you sit here?” He brought his hands out from under the table to gesture to his side of the table. I quirked an eyebrow at him and put my purse on the chair opposite him before turning to sit next to him. I felt one of his hands slide up my skirt and pull my panties to the side, and the other on my hip guiding me to sit in
Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457
Cinco de Mayo is always a big party at the breastaurant. And Taco Tuesday is always a good time. But combine the two, and all chaos ensued. As the lunch hour approached, I saw the line beginning to form. We were fully staffed. Everyone was scheduled and no one called in. I think we were all anticipating that the fifty percent off tacos, beer, and margaritas was going to bring a big crowd along with big tips. But I had never anticipated the number of people that were waiting at the door when we opened. No one was. I saw the owner’s eyes grow wide. Beads of sweat began to form across his forehead. Then he called a quick meeting in the hall. It was basically a pep talk. He told us that we really needed to hold on tight, step it up and bust some ass. The tips were going to be pouring in, and it was all going to be worth it when it was over. We all agreed and were pumped up to make some big bucks. So we tied up our little tops to expose as much cleavage and midriff as possible.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
I went to a dinner function for work a few weeks back. The function was mostly awards being handed out to various colleagues of mine for their efforts over the last year. My department was a little under represented, with only me and one intern able to make the event. Which wasn’t the worst thing ever, he was great company; if a little young and unsure of himself. Well into the third glass of wine when my name was called to receive an award.
I made my way up to the podium to accept my award, and was struck by the fact that out of all my co-workers, only the intern was present. Plastering a smile on my face, I accepted my award and blinked back bittersweet tears at the thought that I really only had one companion to share this with, and made my way back to the table I shared with my intern.
“Congratulations! You really deserve it.” He smiled at me and patted my shoulder, fingers lingering just a moment longer than was necessary.
“Thanks.” I smiled back and tossed back the last of my wine.
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, who looked as though he was carved out of rusted scrap metal and bad intentions. He tapped a thick, calloused finger against the invoice for my recent car service.
“That’ll be eight hundred and forty dollars, 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.”
Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453
It was girl scout cookie season. And I was a very determined little girl scout. I was determined to sell the most cookies in my troop. So I put on my little girl scout uniform, hunter green cable knee socks, mary janes, and my lucky pink panties with little cookies on them. Then I packed my wagon full of cookies. And I was on my way. I went door to door all the way down my street. But I was approaching the end, and I still had a lot of cookies left. I was beginning to grow discouraged. I guess it showed on my face. Because the next gentleman that opened the door asked me why I looked so down. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. So I just went on with my little spiel. Afterwards he asked me if I wanted him to buy every last box. I couldn’t contain my excitement. My smile must have answered his question. He just chuckled and told me to come in so that we could take care of the details. I started taking all the boxes of cookies out of the wagon and putting them on the counter.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
I have a problem. I’m hot for my son’s teacher. I’ve broken more than one vibe thinking about him. When I first met him at the Open House in the beginning of the school year I knew I was in trouble. The way he commanded attention at the front of the room. The way he walked around the classroom handing out the syllabus. All I could think of was seeing if I could get him alone. Listening to his voice as he explained his expectations of his students; all I could do was imagine what he’d sound like while he worked me over.
Kinky Kara 1-844-332-2639 ext 306