Tag: phone sex

pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had just gotten home from a long day at work, and as I settled into my favorite armchair, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. “Hello?” I answered, a bit hesitant. “Hi, is this Cory Dae?” a soft, timid voice inquired. “Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?” “This is Emily. We met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop near your office. You were kind enough to help me when I accidentally spilled my coffee.”

I vaguely remembered the incident, but I couldn’t recall much about her other than she was a sissy. “Oh, yes. Emily. How can I help you?” “Well, Miss, I need your help again. I’m afraid I had an accident today, and I’m embarrassed to say that I wet myself in public.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “That’s quite alright, Emily. It happens to the best of us. Are you okay now?”

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findom

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I reclined on my velvet chaise lounge, my ruby-red dress hugging my curves just right. My lips, painted the same shade of red as my dress, curled into a wicked grin as I watched Tobias. He stood before me, his eyes filled with desire and longing, his chiseled body tensed with anticipation. He thought I liked him, but oh, how wrong he was. I liked that he paid me. Tobias was a man of wealth, and I was a woman of power. He was my plaything, my puppet, my pet. Our one rule was that he could pump, he could stroke, but never ever would he be allowed to cum. He couldn’t touch me, but I could touch him. I was his goddess, his queen, his mistress. He was my submissive, my slave, my whore.

“Take off your clothes, Tobias,” I commanded, my voice as smooth as silk. He obeyed without question, shedding his designer suit piece by piece until he stood before me in all his naked glory. His cock was already hard, twitching with need. I

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pegging

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Daniel wasn’t my usual type. I usually went for the brooding artist, all messy hair and existential angst. Daniel was corporate. Crisp suit, perfectly coiffed hair, the kind of guy who probably knew the exact Dow Jones closing number. But he’d been clear in his profile – and even clearer in our messages. He wanted to be pegged. And honestly? After a string of disastrous dates with said brooding artists, the clarity was refreshing.

“So,” I said, as I opened the door to my apartment. He stood on my welcome mat, looking slightly awkward, holding a bottle. “You brought drinks. How traditional.” He blushed, a surprisingly endearing look on his meticulously groomed face. “Is that okay? I wasn’t sure…” “Perfectly fine,” I reassured him, taking the bottle. “Come on in. Drinks first, or straight to business?” I winked, trying to gauge his reaction. His blush deepened. “Maybe drinks first? Ease into things?”

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Sweet Tooth

Posted 1 week ago by Amber

ruined orgasm

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I’ve had my fair share of unusual requests, but none quite like Axel’s. He had a sweet tooth, a vivid imagination, and a love of ruin. Our conversations were never dull, but this one took an interesting turn. “Amber…Let’s put honey in the back of your pants and lay down,” he said, his voice low and sultry. I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his request. “And then what?” I asked, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

“Then, I want you to grab some caramel sauce and drizzle it down the front of your pants,” he replied. I bit my lip, considering his words. I followed his instructions, giggling the entire time. The honey was sticky and sweet against my skin, and the caramel sauce was warm and inviting. I could feel my heart racing as I laid down on my bed, waiting for Axel’s next command. “Now, Amber, I want you to rub your clit for me,” he said, his voice husky. I did as he asked, letting out a moan that I hoped would satisfy him. I could hear the pleasure in his voice as he told me not to cum…Not yet, anyway.

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abdlCory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I opened the door to find James standing on the porch, his shoulders slumped slightly. He was a regular, and I knew the signs. His red-rimmed eyes suggested a rough week, and the way he clutched his backpack to his chest told me he was feeling small and vulnerable. “Hey, James,” I said, offering a warm smile. “Come on in. I’ve got your favorite juice box chilling.” He shuffled inside, kicking off his sneakers near the door. The house was carefully curated to be a comforting space. Soft rugs, pastel colors, and a complete absence of sharp edges. It was designed to soothe.

“Rough week?” I asked gently, leading him to the oversized, plush armchair in the living room. He nodded, unable to meet my gaze. “Work’s been awful. My boss is breathing down my neck.” He finally looked up, his eyes filled with distress. “I just… I messed up and forgot a really important email.” “Everyone makes mistakes, James. It’s okay. That’s why we have second chances, and erasers, and…mamas.” I gently stroked his hair. It was soft and fine, not like a grown man’s hair at all. “Tell me about it.”

Continue reading “Consequences For James” →

asmr

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Okay, Zoey, are you sure about this?” I asked, fiddling with my headset. Zoey, perched on the edge of my desk amidst a chaotic pile of chips bags and candy wrappers, grinned. “Absolutely, Amber,” she winked. You see, we’d recently stumbled upon the ASMR fetish community somewhat accidentally, after both of our TikTok FYP’s were filled with videos of whispering voices and the strangely compelling sounds of people eating. Zoey, ever the entrepreneur, had the brilliant idea that we should use this to our advantage – you know, being PSO’s and all. “Food-focused ASMR calls,” she’d declared, eyes gleaming. “We’ll be the queens of the crunch!”

And so, here we were. The first video call came through Teams, after a quick DM with “CrunchKing69.” “Hello?” I said, my voice a little too excited. Zoey was already unwrapping a bag of spicy ramen noodles. “H-hello,” a nervous voice replied. “Is…is this the, uh, ASMR call?” “Youuuuu betcha,” Zoey purred, before chomping hard on the crunchy noods. The sound filled the room, and we could see CrunchKing69 drooling on the other end while stroking his dick. Next, it was my turn. I grabbed a

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mom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s a confession I never expected to hear, not even from Julio. We’ve been friends since college, seen each other through bad breakups, questionable fashion choices, and career crises. We’re the kind of friends who can sit in comfortable silence for hours, knowing the other is just there. But this? This was uncharted territory.

“I know it sounds wrong,” Julio mumbled, swirling the ice in his drink. We were at O’Malley’s, our usual haunt, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses providing a thin veil of normalcy around the confessional booth we’d inadvertently created. Julio, with his easy smile and genuine concern for others, was suddenly someone I barely recognized. He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It started a few weeks ago. I was helping Mom clean out the attic. You know how she is, holding onto everything.”

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met gala

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Under the bright lights of the Met Gala, I stood, a vision in silver, my mermaid gown shimmering, my hair adorned with tiny silver flowers. Willie, my ABDL boyfriend, looked dashing in his silver suit, his eyes sparkling with excitement and nervousness. We were nobodies, but tonight, we were the stars, our futuristic attire capturing the attention of every photographer on the red carpet.

As we posed for the cameras, Willie leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. I thought he was going for a sexy nibble, but instead, he whispered, “I’ve had an accident.” Trying not to show my shock as my mind raced with the implications, I reassured him, my voice steady, “It’s okay, baby. We’ll handle it.” We made our way into the venue, our strides confident despite the situation. We bumped into an old friend, who, after a quick explanation, led us to the washroom.

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blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Mr. Davenport was different. He wasn’t aggressive or demanding, just quietly eccentric, with a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. This was my first session with him, and already, I felt a knot of nervous anticipation in my stomach. “First things first,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble. “The pantyhose.”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. Black pantyhose were hardly the strangest request I’d received. I slipped them on in the small, cluttered bathroom, the nylon cool against my skin. When I emerged, he was sitting in a plush armchair, a stopwatch in his hand. “And now, my dear, something sticky. From your pantry, anything will do.” My pantry was a chaotic testament to my haphazard cooking habits. I rummaged through jars and cans, finally grabbing a bottle of honey. It felt cliché, but undeniably, honey reeked of stickiness.

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soldier

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

He was standing on the corner, bathed in the warm glow spilling from O’Malley’s Pub. He was a soldier, I could tell from the crisp cut of his hair and the easy confidence in his stance, surrounded by a boisterous group of his comrades. His eyes met mine, and the noise of the pub seemed to fade into a dull hum. He simply stared, a magnetic pull drawing me in.

He broke away from his friends, a sheepish grin on his face. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “I couldn’t help but notice you. Are you headed home? Mind if I walk with you?” I hesitated. The walk was short, only a few blocks. But the man exuded a raw energy that both intrigued and frightened me. “That’s kind of you,” I said. “But it’s really not necessary.”

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