Tag: phonesex

short dick

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I adore my boy. He’s the sweetest, most adorable ABDL munchkin you ever did see, all wrapped up in a crinkly diaper. But there’s just one tiny, rather small secret I’ve been keeping under wraps, quite literally. When my fellow Mamas would gather for their notorious “bragging brunches,” regaling us with tales of their boys’ magnificent, awe-inspiring, frankly colossal dick sizes (yes, we do compare), I’d just sip my mimosa and plaster on a smile.

“Oh, my Aiden’s a real handful,” Brenda would gush, “eight glorious inches, and thick as a soda can! Such a big boy!” Meanwhile, my own sweet boy was, well, more of a charming four. A secret that felt as heavy as a lead diaper, even though it was in reality so impossibly light (and small…oh, so very small!).

Continue reading “All Wrapped Up, In More Ways Than One!” →

Roxy 1(844) 332-2639 Ext 414

There’s just somethin’ ‘bout a cowboy that I can’t resist. Most of the gentlemen members at the club are older, successful men in designer suits. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for a sexy, silver haired sugar daddy. But there’s just somethin’ ‘bout a cowboy that makes my pussy pitter patter. So when my friends invited me to the rodeo, I just couldn’t say no. Some women get off to the smell of leather designer shoes and bags. But I get off to the smell of leather cowboy boots and chaps.

It had to be so obvious that I was walking around on the verge of cumming in my panties. All of those cowboy hats and tight asses in wranglers made me so weak in the knees. Watching them riding while roping the bulls at the same time was such a turn on. One of them especially caught my eye. He was the epitome of masculinity. His body was that of a perfectly chiseled hard working cowboy. And his honey colored curls naturally highlighted by hours out in the sun. That boy was HOT!

Continue reading “There’s Somethin’ ‘Bout A Cowboy” →

Nadia 1-844-332-2639 ext. 377

The textbook lay open between us, its glossy pages filled with some diagrams of the renal system. Neither of us was even merely looking at it, let alone studying. ‘What if she isn’t bisexual like me?’ I thought to myself, as Maya’s leg was pressed against mine under the small library table, a point of searing contact that sent a jolt straight up my spine with every slight shift she made. We were supposed to be quizzing each other on nephrons and glomeruli, but all I could focus on was the scent of her girly strawberry shampoo. Noticeably, the way her lower lip was caught between her teeth in concentration had me in awe of her.

She finally broke the silence, and her voice was a low murmur that was meant for my ears alone. “Fuck this,” she whispered, her eyes dark and locked on mine. “I can’t think about anything else but us fucking.” She didn’t wait for an answer. In one fluid motion, Maya pushed her chair back, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up from the table.

Continue reading “Study fun with Maya” →

cock

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I love weiners. Cocks, penises, la queue. Whatever the polite name is, or the dirty one, the object remains the same. For me, it is the center of the world. It’s not just a casual interest; it is an obsession. I remember once, walking through the grocery store. List in hand, I paused in front of the thick packaged sausages. My friend, Élise, was with me. She asked, “Stella, why are you staring at the food?”

I didn’t answer right away because I was too busy looking at the weiners. It sounds silly, I know. A girl obsessed with hot dogs. But they remind me of big, fat, juicy cocks. My stomach was hungry, but that had nothing to do with lunch. This need is so intense! When I see a man, really see him, my eyes skip the face and I ignore the clothes. They go straight to the center of his pants, imagining the veins, the rough heat under there just waiting to fill up a girl like me. It’s an instant turn on!

Continue reading “I love weiners and weiners love me!” →

orgy

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The invitation arrived via a text message that simply read: “My place in the woods, massive shower. Five slots open. Thoughts?” I showed the message to Rita, who was admiring how cute the penis cookies she had just baked turned out. Rita didn’t even look up from her phone. “Julian’s place. Tonight. All of us. He wants a sexy shower,” she said with a smile as she handed a BBC cookie to Kayla.

Francie, stretching her legs and arching her back on the plush carpet, sighed dreamily. “Oh, sweet Julian. He’s always so ambitious. Obviously we’re going. But Kayla, you drive. I refuse to get pine needles in my new Mercedes.” Kayla laughed and rolled her eyes as I replied to Julian’s text with a “See you there!” and five wink emojis. One from each of us.

Continue reading “Sexy Shower Orgy Invitation” →

tits

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’m currently waiting for my date, Bryan, at this dimly lit, slightly too-loud bar, strategically wearing a top that says, “Yes, these are real, and yes, they require their own zip code,” because why hide the goods? Especially when I’m dealing with a titty connoisseur who specifically requested I wear something “supportive but revealing.” If there is one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I am not subtle.

Bryan finally walks in, and let me tell you, this guy doesn’t even bother with eye contact first! Which usually would be a giant red flag for me, but in his case, it’s more like a giant green, flashing signal advertising mutual appreciation for my, uh, “generous” proportions. I knew he was a dedicated breast man from our first phone call when he subtly (or perhaps not so subtly lol) kept dropping hints about “support systems” and his admiration for “natural architecture.” Seeing him now confirms every delightful, slightly unhinged rumor about his specific interests and the inevitable focus of our evening together.

Continue reading “Bryan Is A Breast Man” →

masturbation

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

It smells in here, like cheap drinks and a lot of dreams. I walked fast through the backstage hall and pushed open the door to my small dressing room. I needed privacy and quiet. But I needed something else, too.

On stage, I am bright lights and fast moves. My smile is for the money. But in this quiet room, the smile is just for me. I looked at the mirror. Glitter was everywhere. I started taking off my outfit. The velvet, the straps, the tight little things. Slowly. I like this part. Peeling off the layers and the feeling of myself, it comes back.

Continue reading “Backstage Masturbation Fun” →

diaper boy

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I still remember the day I met Mark. Tall, dark, and diaper-clad. His pants were noticeably puffy in the crotch, and a wry smile played on his face as he introduced himself. As we struck up a conversation, the puff in his pants grew, revealing a telltale outline. Mark casually mentioned his “accidents” and how they’d been an issue his whole life. He explained that he wears diapers when he’s away from home as a “safety net” in case he wets himself. I was taken aback, but his charming self-assurance put me at ease.

Fast forward a few months, and there I was, the girl who carried diapers in her purse, because you never know when Mark might have an “oops” moment. We’d become quite the pair, giggling through public mishaps and turning nighttime wetting into a playful routine. After Mark’s morning shower, we’d drape him in a fresh diaper, then I’d stroke his cock as he came to the crinkly sound of my hand moving up and down his shaft inside his clean pampers.

Continue reading “Tall, dark, and diaper-clad.” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He was kneeling before me with his head bowed. Fear is a sound I understand intimately. It’s a language universally welcomed and accepted here. My gaze drifted down the line of my black pencil skirt, lingering on the whip on table beside me. “Look at me,” I commanded.

The sound of my voice broke the tension like a glass shattering. He flinched, then lifted his chin slowly and reluctantly. His eyes were a deep, unsettling blue, swimming with an emotion I recognized instantly. It was the terrifying beauty of surrender. He wasn’t looking at a person; he was looking at the weight of his own submission.

Continue reading “Fear is a sound I understand intimately” →

groupie

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

I leaned back against the peeling faux-leather sofa, nursing a flat ginger ale. My eyes weren’t fixed on any one person; they were sweeping, taking inventory of the faces that mattered. The ones leaning over the mixing board, the ones holding the actual contracts. My gaze skipped past the girlfriends, the wives, the stable ones. They were wallpaper.

I live for the proximity. I don’t care about the music, not really. When you’re standing next to someone who is currently being applauded, some of that heat spills onto you. I care about the glow. For a few hours, I’m not just so-and-so from nowhere; I’m Jamie who was with HIM. It’s a borrowed shine, and I’m addicted to the reflection.

Continue reading “I Only Have Eyes For Him…Until I Don’t.” →