Phonesex with Felicity 1844-332-2639 x 270

Now and then, when her husband acts up, she calls me to rectify the problem. Of course, I’m happy to come over and put her husband back into his place with my diaper bag of tricks. She had said they’d be on their way to a Halloween party, but that wouldn’t be true when I showed up.

She was dressed in a skin-tight catsuit when I rang the doorbell, and he was wearing some Star Wars get-up. Such a geek. “Oh, Felicity.” She giggled. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve got to go.” I waved her out the door and waited for Baby to see me. His eyes widened, and he began to back up. Oh, baby’s first Halloween with Mommy was going to be so much fun.

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findom

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Attention is currency, and mine is priced high for a reason. Don’t confuse this with being a kind soul, mon chéri. I don’t waste time on ghosts who confuse feelings with transactions. My only rule is etched in the ice of a Montreal winter: I only talk to losers who send me money.

And they are, universally, losers. Not in the theatrical sense, but in the sad, damp reality of their lives. They are the men who linger on the edges of crowds, who treat their pathetic lives like a tragedy requiring an audience. They try to send poems, long screeds about their mothers, or worse, unsolicited pictures of their sad little faces or their sad little neglected cocks.

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Melanie 1-844-332-2639 ext. 463

What’s the best thing about being a sissy? That’s hard to say because there are different types of sissies, and each of them are individuals! But today, we are going to talk about teasing and denying.

I love teasing daddy a lot. Just the other day I tried on a bunch of sexy Halloween costumes for him. I couldn’t figure out which one to wear to the neighbor’s Halloween party, and who knows better than daddy! He never lies to me, and he always tells me how sexy I look.

I had four costumes to try out, and I did a sexy little fashion show for him. I was a sexy witch, a sexy feline, a catholic school uniform and lastly, a sexy nurse in latex uniforms. Daddy chose the nurse uniform, of course.

Each time I stepped out, I flaunted my goodies in his face and his lap a few times. I did some twirls and bent over, so he could see my panties, but I wasn’t wearing panties in my last try-out. That really got daddy’s engine going.

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Cum Vampire

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

I never imagined my life would take such a drastic turn when that mysterious, brooding stranger bit my neck under the moonlit alleyway. As his fangs pierced my skin, an extraordinary sensation coursed through my veins, awakening a primal desire I had never known existed. That was the night I became a cum vampire.

From that fateful night forward, I was consumed by an insatiable hunger, not for the crimson elixir of the undead, but for something far more… human. Sometimes I wondered if the biting was more than just a feeding, if it was an erotic gift from beyond the grave, a curse and a blessing all in one.

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Cuck Conquests

cuck blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I carefully orchestrated opportunities for my new boyfriend to witness my infidelity. I’d invite my conquests over for dinner, making sure he caught a glimpse of them walking up our driveway or lingering in our backyard. The look of anguish on his face was music to my ears, fueling my desire to push him further into despair.

I’d take my lovers to intimate gatherings he’d planned, savoring the jealous glares he sent my way. Our sex life became a battleground, with me alternating between tenderness and cruelty, keeping him perpetually off balance. I reveled in the power I held, knowing that beneath his bravado, he was slowly losing his grip on the relationship.

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witch sex

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was Hallowe’en night. Outside, the mortal world celebrated with plastic masks and cheap candy. But I craved a real thrill, a true terror. I had spent seven Hallowe’ens trying to communicate with spirits, but to no avail. Tonight, I wasn’t summoning a familiar; I was calling something hungry from the deepest trench of the underworld.

My voice, raw and aching, delivered the final incantation: “Come, Shade of the Forgotten. Taste me, for I am willing.” The candles—tallow dipped in fat—did not flicker. They simply vanished, plunging the room into absolute, freezing darkness. Then, almost instantly, he materialized. He wasn’t a sheet or a spectral mist. He was the perfect, sculpted embodiment of shadow, a man stitched together from cosmic cold and palpable malevolence.

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Yoga Bitch Beat Down

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

My phone went off a few times during yoga, and she kept looking back at me with a stink eye. Rolling her eyes and huffing without actually saying anything. When we got into the locker room, she shoved past me and mumbled, “Rude.”

I  chuckled a little to my friends and cocked my head. “Um, excuse me, BITCH, did you have something to say to my face?”

She looked me up and down dismissively, obviously thinking she’s better than me. That’s when I started to twist my long hair up into a messy bun, knowing where this was going, and she snarks off that she can’t relax if rude people keep their phone volume on during class. I didn’t intend to beat your wife’s ass after Yoga class, but honestly, she asked for it.

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Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

I first laid eyes on him at that trendy art bar downtown. He was standing across the room, his sculpted features illuminated by the urban glow, and I felt an instant jolt to my core.

“Hi there, I’m Diana,” I purred, extending a hand adorned with a sapphire ring that flashed under the strobe lights. His warm, calloused palm enveloped mine, sending a thrill up my arm.

“I’m Ryder,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down my spine. We stood there, locked in a charged gaze, as the room around us melted away.

Without another word, we made our way to the coat check, fingers intertwining the whole time. In the dim, cramped space, he crowded me against the wall, hands roaming over my curves with a newfound hunger. “I want you,” he growled, claiming my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss.

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breeding kink

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Mr. Sterling was from out of town, his accent a low, rumbling melody that hinted at old money and even older secrets. I’d been working on the Harrington merger for months, flying back and forth, enduring endless conference calls with Mr. Sterling and his team. And, today, we’d finally sealed the deal.

“Stella,” he’d said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “a deal this significant deserves a proper celebration. I’d be honored if you’d join me for dinner.” I hesitated for a split second, the professional in me battling the flicker of intrigue. But the thrill of closing such a massive deal, coupled with his undeniable charisma, won out. “I’d love to, Mr. Sterling.”

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wetting in public

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was just minding my own business, while trying to navigate the bustling aisles of the local superstore. Which, let’s be honest, is already a comedic goldmine on any given day. My basket was precariously stacked with various impulse buys when I noticed a dude a few feet ahead of me acting a little…uh…shifty.

He was wearing these beige cargo shorts. In hindsight, they didn’t exactly help camouflage the emerging situation. He kept adjusting his stance, almost like he was doing a subtle, internal dance battle with himself. I initially just thought he had a really itchy butt. Or was perhaps auditioning for a very niche interpretive dance troupe in the cereal aisle. But then I spotted a distinct, darkening patch at the front of his shorts.

Continue reading “Cleanup In Aisle 7”