Category: roleplay phone sex

At The Concert

Posted 1 month ago by Molly

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The bass was so loud I could feel it in my ribs long before the headliner walked onstage. Lights swept across the crowd in restless colors while thousands of people pressed shoulder to shoulder, sweaty and buzzing with anticipation. I’d barely found space near the middle when he appeared beside me like he’d always been there.

He was tall and good looking. I smiled at him, leaning in close to be heard over the music. “You’re tall.”

He raised his eyebrow and leaned into me further. “Is that a complaint?”

Laughing, I shook my head. “It’s a good thing!” I touched his arm and leaned to see the stage better. I was trying to be casual, but lingered long enough to let him wonder just how casual the evening could be.

The main act started, guitars and drums thrumming through the arena, and the crowd surged forward. I caught herself against his chest, laughing and watching him through my lashes.

“Dangerous spot,” he said.

“You planning to protect me?” I asked, moving to stand directly in front of him. I kept eye contact for a moment before turning back to the stage, moving in time with the music.

As the…

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I suppose it started as a small, harmless obsession. But, after many years of adding to it, my panty collection now spans every hue and fabric known to man (or even sissy lol). We’re talking neon pinks, gorgeous greens, deep indigos, and scandalous scarlets! All of which make me feel like I’m starring in my own noir film. Cotton is perfectly comfortable I’m sure, but it lacks the decadent glide that silk offers when it first touches my skin.

People talk about “finding your passion” and while some choose stamp collecting or marathons, I’ve decided that curating a drawer full of silky, vibrant panties is a far more rewarding pursuit for a woman like me. Every purchase is a mission that I greatly enjoy. I love spending the day roaming the mall with an iced coffee, while hunting down the perfect pair of emerald bikini cut briefs or finding a rare, dusty rose thong that feels just right. It’s a quest that I take very (VERY) seriously.

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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.

Continue reading “Femdom Vs the golden boy” →

blowjob

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.

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lover

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.

Continue reading “Mistress Anna had enough” →

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

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a ritual

Posted 2 months ago by Stella

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I’d met him in an underground club where the bass rattled your teeth and the air tasted of ozone and cedar. He was a creature of sharp angles, layers of charcoal linen, and eyes that held the flat, impenetrable darkness of an abyss. When he touched me, it felt like an invitation to a ritual I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy.

Tonight, the room was lit only by a cluster of wax candles that wept long, distorted trails of onto the floorboards. I stood in the center of the room, feeling my heart beat frantically drum against my ribs. Silas moved behind me. His hands felt cold against my skin, sending a jolt of ice-cold electricity down my spine.

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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 

Continue reading “Cock-warming My Friend” →

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.

Continue reading “Celebrating with the Intern” →

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.”

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