Tag: phone sex

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.” →

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.” →

diaper sissy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I adjusted my camera, ensuring my background was just as comforting and ‘mama-like’ as I hoped my presence was for her, eagerly anticipating the flood of color and giggles that was sure to follow as soon as the connection solidified between us across the miles.

As the screen flickered to life, she appeared, a vibrant burst of color against her soft pastel bedroom wall. “Mama! Look!” she squealed, twirling clumsily to show off her latest carefully curated ensemble. It was a concoction of pure joy and imagination. She wore a rainbow-striped onesie, complete with little ruffles on the shoulders and a convenient snap crotch, layered over a soft, slightly bulky pull-up.

Continue reading “Diaper Sissy On Camera” →

feet

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I knew what Daddy wanted. There’s only one thing that always brought that soft, knowing smile to his lips. Especially because Mommy hated it more than anything else in the world! No shoes, never shoes for this. Daddy told me I had to go to my closet and throw all of my shoes in the trash. I walked barefoot through the garden, deliberately, slowly. Across the freshly turned earth where Daddy had planted his roses, so that my soles were black and soil hid between my toes.

When I stepped back into the kitchen, I walked directly to Daddy, standing between his spread knees as he sat in his worn armchair. I extended my feet, crusted with garden debris. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, picked up my ankle and lowered his head. His tongue was warm, sweeping away the grit, the soil, the evidence of my outdoor adventure.

Continue reading “I knew what Daddy wanted.” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

They come to my apartment, crawling with their money and their sad, empty eyes. They want to be nothing. And I am good at making them nothing. When my heels click on the polished floor, it is a quick, clean sound. Like a tiny whip. I wear black, always. Black is serious. Black is power. My red lipstick is the only color. It is like a stain, a mark, on a clean sheet.

Today, it is a man named Mark. He sits on my velvet couch. This man is too big for it, so his shoulders are hunched. He looks like a little lost, but he is old. Pathetic. He avoids my gaze. Good. He knows his place. “You are early,” I say. My voice is not loud, but it is like ice. “Did I say you could be early? No.”

Continue reading “crawling with their money” →

abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Alright, sweet pea, let’s get you all fresh and clean,” I cooed. My voice dripped with a syrupy sweetness that would put a pancake house to shame. The moment I’d unsnapped his onesie, the undeniable evidence of my ABDL’s recent ‘accomplishment’ announced itself with a potent, aromatic cloud that could have wilted a plastic plant. I fanned the air dramatically, making a big show of it. “Whoa there, partner! Since when is my special little stinker REALLY a stinker?” I asked, as my eyes watered slightly. I fought back a gag that was equal parts disgust and laughter.

With the practiced efficiency of a seasoned pit crew chief, I gathered my arsenal: a fresh, crinkly diaper adorned with cartoon characters that seemed to mock my current situation, a mountain of wipes that felt chillingly inadequate, and a tub of cream that promised to create a barrier more impenetrable than a bank vault. I took a deep, fortifying breath—through my mouth, obviously—and got to work. The tabs gave way with their familiar ripping sound, a prelude to the grand unveiling. “And now, for the main event,” I whispered, my tone that of a nature documentary host

Continue reading ““let’s get you all fresh and clean”” →

military man

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My friend Heather cornered me the moment she heard her brother, Henry, was back in the city. “Amber,” she’d whispered, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m throwing him a welcome home party and need you to be there! He’s been gone for so long, and you know…you know how I feel about you and him. Just…take care of him for me, okay?”

Henry was a ruggedly handsome military man, fresh from some top-secret Pentagon assignment. He was the kind of man who made you forget your own name, especially when he was wearing that crisp uniform. I wandered into Heather’s living room and there he was, looking as fine as ever, surrounded by friends and relatives. The air crackled when he looked in my direction. Heather had given me the go-ahead, a playful shove towards destiny, and my heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

Continue reading “Henry’s Welcome Home Party” →

spanking blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Brian knew. He’d forgotten himself, let a task slip in a moment of defiance, and now…now he would have no choice but to remember his place. My place. A slow, predacious smile touched my lips, unseen by him, but surely felt in the sudden tension that stiffened his spine.

“Brian,” I purred. “Did you truly believe, even for a moment, that I would tolerate such…well…nonsense?” He remained silent. Good. Fear, respect, anticipation – all blended into a potent melange. My gaze swept over him, from the dark hair falling into his eyes to the vulnerable curve of his neck. This was where he belonged: at my mercy, awaiting my command.

Continue reading “Brian Must Be Punished” →

Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

As the moon cast an eerie glow on my dorm room, I couldn’t shake the thrill that coursed through my veins. It was the weekend before Halloween, and I found myself craving a certain type of excitement. The kind that only and older man could bring me.

I spent hours getting ready, my heart racing with anticipation. My brown eyes sparked as I painted my lips a deep, crimson red. I slipped into a black lace bra and thong, the fabric barely containing my perky breasts and pert ass. A sheer, ruffly skirt hugged my hips, and I added a pair of thigh-high stockings and stiletto heels to complete the sultry look.

Continue reading “A Certain Type of Excitement” →