abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I should have known better than to trust a mischievous ABDL boy like Vincent, but mom guilt got the best of me. After all, he did look so pitiful with those big, round eyes, promising to behave if I let him play with my cloth diaper stash. Yeah, right. As soon as my back was turned, that little ABDL troublemaker sniffed out my most precious pieces and went to town. I caught him cheek-to-cheek in my baby powder, giggling like a lunatic and making a mess I’d have to clean up by myself – after I punished his bare bottom for his transgressions, that is!

I called him over to the changing table, where he immediately eyed the spanking bench, knowing exactly what was coming. But he didn’t even flinch when I positioned him, his bottom up and ready for mom’s discipline. “Vincent, you naughty boy! I should put you in time-out for life after this stunt,” I scolded, the words falling flat as he just smirked at me, his diaper-clad crotch wiggling with excitement.

Continue reading “Vincent is a naughty ABDL!”

Brandi 1-844-332-2639 ext 417

The waitress was cute so you gave her a hefty tip. There’s a moment when the air shifts—when the waitress bends just a little too close, when her hand brushes yours on the table, when her smile looks more like a dare than politeness. When she clearly wants more!

That’s when you know this isn’t just dinner.

She’s serving you drinks, yes, but she’s also serving you possibilities. She sees the way you watch her. She notices how your eyes follow her hips when she walks away. And she likes it. She wants you to know that dessert isn’t on the menu—but she’s more than willing to offer it anyway.

Continue reading “When the Waitress Wants More Than a Tip”

cock witch

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Men come to me, drawn by the currents of rumor and raw, aching need. They know my reputation, whispers of the witchy domme whose pleasure is a consuming flame, and whose displeasure…well, that’s where the real magic happens. I don’t suffer fools, nor do I suffer inadequacy. My appetites are vast, a cavernous hunger that few men can truly fill.

They always approach me the same way, these eager, trembling submissives, offering themselves, their bodies, their very essence, hoping to be the one to finally quench my thirst. These men, they know the risks. They sign an invisible pact with their hopeful eyes and bated breath: absolute surrender, absolute consent to my judgment.

Continue reading “The Whispers Are True”

Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

Holy fuck I missed this job. Being a phone sex operator is no joke, and it takes skill, seduction, and a whole lot of dirty talk. But hey, that’s exactly why I’m here, isn’t it? Aren’t you glad I’m back?

After a couple of months abroad, I’m back and raring to go, ready to unleash my inner seductress once more. As I slip into my comfiest, most provocative loungewear, I can already feel the familiar heat of anticipation building within me. It’s like my body is saying, “Alright, Aynsley, let’s get this sexy party started!”

I settle into my cozy little lair, the one adorned with plush throw pillows, soft candlelight, and the faint scent of lavender, all designed to set the mood for the torrid tales I’m about to weave. I fire up the old reliable headset and let my fingers dance across the keyboard, typing out greetings and teasing opening lines for the eager clients who’ll soon be on the other end.

Continue reading “I’m Baaackkk!”

CBT With Puppet

cbt

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Puppet, a man I barely knew, was insisting I watch him as he pleasured himself. The audacity! I had only met him a few days prior at a mutual friend’s dinner party. But there he was, undressing in front of me, his lustful eyes pleading for me to stay.

“What’s gotten into you, Puppet?” I asked, trying to sound firm despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “We just met. This isn’t appropriate.” But he was relentless. “Just this once, Stella. I promise I won’t ask again,” he whispered, his hands already working to free his erection. “Please, I need to cum. My wife will be home any minute and…and I can’t help myself.”

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Rent’s Due!

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

I squirmed beneath Mitchell’s looming figure, the absurdity of the situation only heightening the searing heat pooling between my thighs. My rent was overdue, and now he stood over me, his rugged features twisted into a snarl of displeasure. A spark of apprehension and raw, primal excitement raced through me as I realized he intended to collect the debt in the most carnal of ways.

“Get on your knees,” Mitchell growled, his roughened tone sending shivers down my spine.

As I complied, his calloused hand grasped the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. The thick bulge of his arousal pressed insistently against my cheek, an unspoken demand. I parted my lips, and he ruthlessly shoved himself past them, the head of his cock nudging the back of my throat.

Continue reading “Rent’s Due!”

family fun

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Jorge was an older gentleman, well into his twilight years, with a certain gravelly charm that always preceded the unexpected. Our conversations, though infrequent, consistently veered into territory most people would never even acknowledge, let alone openly discuss. When he stated that he has a “relationship” with his mother, it wasn’t simply a matter of familial affection or even the typical complexities that often tie adults to their aging parents.

No, the truth, as Jorge once laid out in a matter-of-fact tone, was that their bond had long transcended conventional boundaries. Jorge, as it turns out, liked to fuck his mother. It was a consensual arrangement, he emphasized, a shared intimacy that, while undeniably taboo for all the obvious societal and biological reasons, formed an undeniable, secret world known only to a precious few, myself included.

Continue reading “Jorge Has A Secret Girlfriend”

cuckold

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a type. Specifically, I have two types. There’s Type A: The distinguished gentleman, preferably with a full head of silver hair, a penchant for single malt scotch, and a portfolio that could rival a small nation’s GDP. These men are wonderful conversationalists, masters of the five-star reservation, and possess a certain gravitas that only comes with decades of accrued wisdom (and even more accrued wealth). They also, almost without exception, have the libido of a particularly sluggish snail.

Then there’s Type B: The strapping twenty-something, all rippling abs, boundless energy, and an unshakeable belief that life is one long montage from a sports drink commercial. These men are less interested in discussing the nuances of global economics and more interested in, well, nuances. And by nuances, I mean anything that involves their cock.

Continue reading “Richard, The Silver Haired Cuck”

glory hole blog

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

“You won’t believe the night I had, Jamie,” Randy’s voice crackled, already a little hoarse, buzzing with the afterglow of his nocturnal adventures. He was a creature of the shadows, and his stories were stained with the same grime. I sat at my kitchen table, the half-eaten remains of a microwave meal cooling in front of me. Randy, on the other hand, was sitting in his car, still slick with the memory of anonymous mouths and urgent hands.

“Got a new spot,” he continued, excitedly. “Back of the old cinema, you know the one? Dark. Perfect. There was this big guy, hairy hands. Didn’t even say a word, just went for it.” He launched into the details, the hot breath, the rough stubble, the frantic rhythm against the plywood partition. He painted the scene with such visceral honesty, I could almost smell the stale sex and the cheap cleaner.

Continue reading ““You won’t believe the night I had, Jamie””

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

“I love pussy hair Julie. It’s such a turn on. I love how it looks, how it feels, how it smells, how it tastes. It’s an addiction, a fetish. I just can’t get enough. But the problem is that these days so many women wax or shave their pussy hair. Or they get permanent hair removal. I don’t understand it. I know. To each their own. But I just don’t get this modern trend. I would love to go back to the seventies. Everyone had big, thick, musky bushes. I miss those good old days.” He confessed.

So I decided to give him what he had been needing and longing for. He told me that he hadn’t been able to enjoy pussy hair in so many years. His wife had gotten permanent hair removal several years ago, even though he had asked her not to. And his mistress gets waxed regularly. She wasn’t open to allowing it to grow out either. The poor guy just wanted to bury his face in a bush. I had a plan. I was going to grow some out for him. But it was going to be a surprise. So I didn’t tell him.

Continue reading ““I Love Pussy Hair Julie””