Franny Feeds You A Glory Hole Lunch

xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208

Ray turned his face away, but my nails bit into his jaw to turn his lips back toward the hole. He wore a mask that covered the upper half of his face. His mouth was coated in slimy drool and ropes of precum. “I don’t want to swallow it.” He cried, but I tugged him by the jaw, closer to the throbbing cock poking out of the hole.

“It’s the only lunch you’ll get. Don’t be ungrateful.” I stood over him as he kneeled on the sticky floor of the glory hole. My thumb pressed into the indent in Ray’s chin, forcing his mouth back open. He may be begging for this to end, but his cock was rock hard between his legs as I forced him to be a big, gay, cocksucker.

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Sploshing Party

Posted 1 day ago by Cory

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I honestly wasn’t sure what I’d gotten myself into when I signed up for this “sploshing” party, but I figured it was worth indulging my curiosity for an evening. The room was already a chaotic masterpiece of beige sludge and vibrant neon jelly, and I felt like a suburban explorer stepping into a very sticky jungle.

I was just about to start contemplating my life choices when a hot guy wandered over to where I was standing. He didn’t even say hello! He just held up a bucket of chocolate pudding like it was an offering to a goddess (I mean, technically he wasn’t wrong) and dumped it right over both of our heads.

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Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

Part One Part Two 

Oh, what a sight he was. My Sissy Slut Bob! Standing near the edge of the park with the water hose in his hand. Bob’s tall heels were set hip width apart, his ass pushed back with his fake tit’s lifted toward the sun. The cool water splashed out, soaking his bikini top and dripping water down his thighs. The pale pink bikini bottoms sucked tight to the too-big cage he was wearing. The whole reason behind our little fundraising car wash was so Bob could afford a tighter, smaller cage.

The cars honked as they drove by, and Bob shook his ass. “Pull the bottoms up,” I instructed while filming a little TikTok for Bob’s fans. Social media was how I set up most of Bob’s slutty events. The views, likes, and comments often bring in enough cash to fuel Bob’s video gaming addiction. He knows this, and every time the carema comes out, it’s like Bob knows he needs to perform.

Continue reading “Sissy Car Wash Part Three” →

Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 ext 457

I went in to talk to the admissions counselor at the cosmetology school the other day. 

“Mr. Steel will see you now Rachel,” his assistant smiled and led me to his office. Suddenly I was getting so nervous. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like it was a job interview or anything. When she opened the door for me, he stood up behind his massive desk. My heart skipped a beat. He was uncomfortably good looking. I blushed fifty shades of red and could barely look him in the eyes. It must have amused him judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that intimidated in my life. Something about him made me feel so tingly inside. Sitting across that massive desk from him made me feel so small. He walked over to his computer and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. I couldn’t believe what popped up. He had a video of the day that I squirted in the instructor’s face when I was Brandy’s model for her waxing exam.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Mark sat with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes fixed on the floor. Kayla sat to my left. She held Mark’s gold card between two of her perfectly manicured fingers, while admiring it like a trophy. “Stella, darling, shall we see how much he’s willing to sacrifice for our entertainment?” she asked, with a wink.

“Let’s!” I said, while watching the subtle tremor in his shoulders. “You know the rules, Mark. Four digits. If we guess correctly, the balance is ours. If we miss…well, the penalty for wasting our time is exactly the same.”

Continue reading “The PIN to Mark’s Gold Card” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The heat of Hanoi at midnight was a living thing, thick with the scent of roasted coffee, exhaust, and blooming jasmine. I had returned to my boutique hotel room in the Old Quarter, eager to peel off my damp clothes and wash away the grime of the day.

I stripped down to a pair of black lacy underwear, tossing them onto the unmade bed, before slipping into the bathroom for a cold shower.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, towel wrapped tight around my chest, the air felt different. Thicker. Charged with a sudden, wild electricity.

Standing by the balcony doors, was my private guide from the afternoon. The polite, buttoned-up man who had navigated the bustling streets had vanished. He stood in the shadows, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing a broad, golden chest that gleamed in the ambient streetlights. Across his skin, faint, dark tiger stripes beneath the surface, pulsing with a life of their own.

But it was what he held in his hand that made my breath catch.

He was holding my discarded lacy underwear.

His eyes, now a brilliant, glowing amber with slit pupils, locked onto mine. He didn’t look ashamed; his gaze was fierce, predatory… Continue reading “Panty Sniffing Weretiger” →

Trans Goddess Alexus 1844-332-2639 Ext 349

David has the cutest little pink sissy dress. The kind with lots of frills and tulle under the skirt to make it poof out! So short it shows off the saggy cloth diaper he’s forced to wear underneath. It even has a handy little lock at the top of the zipper, but it broke. (Probably because of how much he struggles to get out of it when he’s embarrassed.) Taking the initiative, David knew it would need to be repaired by a professional, so he called me to ask if I’d write a letter for him to print out when he visits the seamstress. A letter that would instruct her in how to fix the zipper, and if there were other alterations I wanted made, I could add them.

I thought this was a brilliant idea and wrote up a little something so that she could get the job done exactly as I expected.

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

Welcome to the Sissy Wives Club where you will learn how to sissify your husband for fun and profit! You are all here today because you found your sissy husbands snooping around in your lingerie drawers, or maybe even your daughter’s sock and panty drawers. I’m here to tell you that the only thing you can do is embrace it. That urge is permanent so make the most of it ladies. You will soon realize how lucky you truly are. I have everything you need to turn your life around. Before you know it, your sissy husband will be doing all of the laundry and hanging the delicates out on the clothesline to dry. You will not believe how meticulously they will take care of all of the clothing and house work. I even have these French maid uniforms if you’d like to purchase them for your sissy husband. Don’t worry, I have everything you could possibly need to transform your life. You will need a whole new sissy wardrobe for them. And they need their own sissy boudoir. They will be so happy that they will be willing to do absolutely anything for you. Even slutting themselves out.

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Gabrielle 1-844-332-2639 ext 469

I called up my friend Mike one night. I was feeling adventurous and wanted to try something new. Mike always had amazing and erotic ideas. I told him I didn’t want the idea over the phone, for him to just come over and surprise me. An hour later I heard my doorbell, and it was him, so I invited him inside.

We hung out in the living room because I wanted to see what twisted idea he could come up with. He just said one word, “Anal!” I was always interested in trying it but scared. He told me all about rim jobs, licking deep inside the asshole, smelling the ass, and lastly, fucking me with his huge nine-inch cock!

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I was waiting for my date to show up, when I heard the rumble of an engine in the distance. As soon as he pulled into my driveway, I barely registered the man in the helmet as someone I actually knew. My attention was elsewhere. My eyes were locked on his motorcycle. It was a matte-black cafe racer, with silver accents that caught the fading light in all the right places.

I found myself walking toward it before I realized what I was doing, as I reached out with my fingers hovered just inches from the tank. The surface was warm from the residual heat of the engine. It felt like touching something alive. I traced the line of the steel frame and sighed. It was a masterpiece, meant for speed and dominance, but I felt a strange, heady rush of desire. Not for the man who rode it, but for the machine itself.

Continue reading “Can I Fuck A Motorcycle?” →