Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

I couldn’t believe my eyes! I had never seen a plumber in panties before. He was checking out the pipes under my sink. I had a leak. He bent down to take a peek. And there they were, clear as day. But oh so frayed. The light pink lace trim had separated from the silky bottoms. I couldn’t help but stare. He quickly turned and caught me looking. Automatically reaching back, he felt the exposed lace band. He turned a bright shade of red. I flashed a reassuring smile. He began to stutter as he felt the need to explain. I could tell he was so embarrassed. There’s no need to explain, I assured him. But he continued. “It’s the only pair I have. I managed to steal them from my wife a long time ago. I have to wash them by hand late every night while she’s asleep. I’m too embarrassed to buy any myself. Nobody knows about my fetish. Well, I guess you do now. I’m so ashamed” he confessed.

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asmr

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Okay, Zoey, are you sure about this?” I asked, fiddling with my headset. Zoey, perched on the edge of my desk amidst a chaotic pile of chips bags and candy wrappers, grinned. “Absolutely, Amber,” she winked. You see, we’d recently stumbled upon the ASMR fetish community somewhat accidentally, after both of our TikTok FYP’s were filled with videos of whispering voices and the strangely compelling sounds of people eating. Zoey, ever the entrepreneur, had the brilliant idea that we should use this to our advantage – you know, being PSO’s and all. “Food-focused ASMR calls,” she’d declared, eyes gleaming. “We’ll be the queens of the crunch!”

And so, here we were. The first video call came through Teams, after a quick DM with “CrunchKing69.” “Hello?” I said, my voice a little too excited. Zoey was already unwrapping a bag of spicy ramen noodles. “H-hello,” a nervous voice replied. “Is…is this the, uh, ASMR call?” “Youuuuu betcha,” Zoey purred, before chomping hard on the crunchy noods. The sound filled the room, and we could see CrunchKing69 drooling on the other end while stroking his dick. Next, it was my turn. I grabbed a

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Stephanie 844-332-2639 Ext 454

Outcalls were rare for me but when I did I was picky on mileage and location. With google maps I could clearly see his property was in a desolate area quite far from the city. He described himself as an introvert and he just didn’t “care for certain folk” as he put it.

We exchanged pics, spoke on the phone twice when we finally agreed on a Sunday evening. He didn’t want me to dress up. He specifically asked that I wear something I would wear to bed on a normal night. I chose my velvet two piece pajama shorts set. It was summer and the weather was perfect on this particular night.

His home was cozy, I immediately felt comfortable but I could definitely tell he lived alone. We sat in the middle of a large sectional sofa facing a large glass coffee table.

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Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

It was supposed to be a routine trip home during my summer internship. A quick visit with the family, some home-cooked meals, and then back to campus. But I had an ulterior motive – seeing Nate, my high school boyfriend. We’d kept in touch over the years and he knew I’d be in town.

When I pulled up in his driveway, my heart raced. He came out and greeted me with a passionate kiss. “I missed you so much,” he murmured into my hair. I smiled, knowing we’d pick up right where we left off.

“Let’s go to the movies,” he suggested. But as we sat in his car, a different idea took hold. Our hands roamed each other’s bodies as we kissed. I straddled him in the driver’s seat, grinding on his growing erection. He reached up my skirt, fingers gliding through my slick folds.

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Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

By the time I slide into the office at 8:59am, pulse racing and out of breath, I know I’ve got this in the bag. The tight burgundy pencil skirt hugs my curves in all the right places, the clingy black blouse cut low enough to show the perfect amount of cleavage. I’m dressed to impress, determined to wow the most important man in the building. Because I do whatever it takes to make it in this world.

“Good morning, Mr. Jameson,” I purr as I saunter past his office, swaying my hips just so. Innocent yet flirty, a wink in my voice.

“Diana, you look ravishing as always,” he replies smoothly, blue eyes drinking me in hungrily behind his polished oak desk. “Come in a moment, would you?”

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Roxy 1 (844) 332-2639 Ext 414

I love a boy that can handle me. Can you handle me?  Sometimes I get the feeling that boys are intimidated and don’t know if they can handle a “stripper”. But I’m here to tell you that I don’t want some egotistical bastard. I want someone that’s real. Dad bods get extra credit, lol. I have been dealing with men all of my life. Many think they know what I want. But they are usually wrong. I just want a sweet, genuine person. It doesn’t really matter if they are male or female. Age doesn’t matter either. All that matters is that we click in every way.

I was invited to a huge fiesta. It was so freaking amazing. There was a mariachi band. Everyone was dancing and having a great time. Some guys were trying to flirt with me and my friends. They were the machismo types. Lots of muscles, chiseled features, perfect hair… you know, the typical “tall, dark, and handsome”. But they just weren’t doing it for me. They think they’re so sexy, suave, and debonair. But that’s actually such a turn off to me. The sweet, quiet guy sitting in the corner is more my style.

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Small Cock Boys

*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221

Why do you small cock boys always try to pass yourselves off as real men? As if that’s even possible. It boggles my mind that someone with two inches thinks he’s even in the same category as someone with 10 inches. Clearly your little dick is also making you delusional. I will never understand how you get it in your head that you’d be someone I want to fuck when we both know all I want to do is humiliate you.

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Trinity 1-844-332-2639 ext 285

When I say The Interview: Breaking In My New Sissy was unforgettable, I mean it started the moment he knocked on my door—nervous, dressed like the desperate little toy he is, and already dripping through his cage. He wanted this. Begged for it. Said he needed to be broken in properly, to be humiliated, used, trained. I just smiled and set the stage.

“Let’s pretend you’re applying for a position,” I told him. “Personal assistant. Required skills: obedience, silence, and taking it like a good little sissy.” He showed up wearing a tight button-down barely covering his lacy pink bra, a black mini skirt, and kitten heels he could barely stand in. His lips were glossy, cheeks flushed, thighs trembling from the plug I’d told him to keep in all morning.

I let him stand there like a fool while I looked him up and down. “This is what you wear to an interview? Pathetic.” He tried to answer, but I cut him off. “Strip. Now.” He did, shaking the whole time, until he was standing in front of the mirror in nothing but his cage and his shame. I circled him like prey, tugging the leash I’d clipped to Continue reading “The Interview: Breaking In My New Sissy” →

Stephanie 844-332-2639 Ext 454

He was no doubt the embodiment of the Alpha male. He always took care of me. His slutty little whore. We always hooked up at my place, it was the norm for us. This time would be different. He made a shocking request.

He wanted me to meet him at his place of business. I was shocked but I didn’t make a fuss or bomb him with a lot of questions. But the questions stayed with me, he was very private and, like most clients, they don’t allow their worlds to collide.

I dressed appropriately, y’know for a fuckdoll whore? He was really into stockings, thongs, lingerie in general. Luckily, stepping out would be no issue. I had a sexy black down fur coat. Dressed in my purple thigh high stockings with garter belt to match, complete with a black leather corset and purple stilettos I was ready to entice, drain his balls and leave gracefully with a wad of cash.

Continue reading “Escort Excerpts : A General Contractor’s Request” →

mom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s a confession I never expected to hear, not even from Julio. We’ve been friends since college, seen each other through bad breakups, questionable fashion choices, and career crises. We’re the kind of friends who can sit in comfortable silence for hours, knowing the other is just there. But this? This was uncharted territory.

“I know it sounds wrong,” Julio mumbled, swirling the ice in his drink. We were at O’Malley’s, our usual haunt, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses providing a thin veil of normalcy around the confessional booth we’d inadvertently created. Julio, with his easy smile and genuine concern for others, was suddenly someone I barely recognized. He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It started a few weeks ago. I was helping Mom clean out the attic. You know how she is, holding onto everything.”

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