Tag: phone sex

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The ambient hum of the warehouse’s cooling fans did nothing to cut the heavy, stifling heat of the late-night shift. Everyone else had clocked out hours ago, leaving me entirely alone amidst the towering rows of steel shelving and monolithic wooden pallets. The vastness of the empty space usually felt industrial and cold, but tonight, shielded in the deep shadows, it felt intensely private. Secretive.

I leaned back against a stack of heavy canvas cargo sacks, the rough fabric contrasting with the thin cotton of my shirt. My breath came a little faster, echoing softly in the cavernous silence. There was something undeniably exciting about the risk. Being so incredibly vulnerable in a place where anyone could theoretically walk in was thrilling. Though I knew the security gates were locked tight until dawn.

My fingers trembled slightly as they moved down, slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans. The contrast of the cool warehouse air against my wet warmth made me gasp, a small sound that seemed to vibrate through the high rafters. I closed my eyes, letting my imagination fill the empty spaces of the room. Every touch was deliberate, slow, and agonizingly focused.

The rhythm of the distant automated…

Continue reading “Late Night Pleasure” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He’s trembling on the cold linoleum floor, with his head bowed and rope coiled around his wrists. His eyes keep darting to the edge of the room where a single candle sputters. He was supposed to be silent, yet he laughed. I warned him, earlier. “Speak when I say.” He chose not to listen.

The candlelight dances across his features, painting them in shades of guilt and anticipation. “Come,” I command. He stands, but his gaze does not meet my eyes. I circle him, as the leather strap in my hand swallows the light. “Listen,” I say, as my fingertips brush the strap’s surface. His head snaps up, and his eyes are wide and pleading. I lay the strap across his chest. “Your mistake was not in the sound you made, but in the thought that you could speak without consequence.”

Continue reading ““Speak when I say.”” →

Handful

TS Alexus 844-332-2639 EXT 349

So you are looking for a girl you can bring home to your Mom? I’m not her, but you are too stupid to realize that until it’s far too late. I’m more than a handful in more ways than one. Starting with the obvious, does your Mom know how much you love TS cock? I’d bet she doesn’t. Should you bring me home to meet her, I can guarantee to fill her in.

Fill her in and fill her up with this big, beautiful shecock. Continue reading “I’m More Than a Handful” →

Pamper Fucked

Posted 6 days ago by Amber

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mikey struggle with the tabs on his extra thick pamper. “You’re doing it too tight again,” I teased, sliding off the duvet to help him. Mikey looked up, just in time for me to see his cheeks flushing pink. “I just want it to stay put, Amber. We don’t want a repeat of the accident I had at the grocery store last week.”

I reached out, taking the tabs from his clumsy hands. Once his diaper was secured with a satisfying crinkle-snap, I stood back to inspect my handiwork. “Perfect,” I whispered, ruffling his hair.

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had spent the afternoon lounging among the mountain peaks, plucking clouds like tufts of cotton, until the tiny, frantic motions of a particularly spirited little man caught my roving eye. He looked like a teeny, tiny spec scurrying across a dinner plate. His frantic gestures only served to heighten my amusement as I reached down with fingers the size of redwood trunks to pluck him from his futile sanctuary.

Cupping my hands around him, I brought him closer to my face. My breath was like a gale-force wind that sent his hair whipping wildly. I couldn’t help but let out a soft, throaty chuckle at the sheer absurdity of his plight. He looked so insignificantly precious, knowing full well that he was entirely at the mercy of my whims.

Continue reading “Eating A Teeny, Tiny Man” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I stepped out of the alleyway, with my heels clicking against the concrete. It sounded almost like a siren song for the broken. I wasn’t looking for conversation, I was looking for the magnetic pull of a submissive spirit. You can smell them, really. There’s a specific scent to a man who is tired of his own self-governance. It’s a faint, metallic tang of repressed desperation.

I spotted what appeared to be a perfect specimen near the corner of 4th Street. He standing under the flickering orange glow of a streetlight. Tall, well-dressed in a suit that looked slightly too heavy for his frame, and was clutching a briefcase like a shield. He was trembling, though there was no breeze to speak of. As I approached, I didn’t bother with the softness of a smile. I let my presence be the only thing that mattered.

Continue reading “a siren song for the broken” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I recently met a guy named Mark at the local amusement park. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely too tense. He was trying his best to chat me up in line, but as soon as we were suspended at the top of the roller coaster, he became strangely quiet. “You’re trembling, Mark,” I murmured, slightly amused by how timid he suddenly appeared. He swallowed hard. “It’s just…it’s a long drop, Amber.”

“Is it?” I turned my head slowly, looking him in the eye entirely unbothered. “Look at me.” He hesitated, then slowly turned his head. His eyes were wide and darting from side to side, probably looking for the type of reassurance that I wasn’t going to provide. My fingers traced the line of his jaw before settling firmly on his chin. I didn’t pull him close, I just held his head in place, forcing him to keep his gaze locked with mine.

Continue reading “Finger fucked on the roller coaster” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I never expected to be attracted to my stepson, but I suppose stranger things have happened. It all started one evening when it was just the two of us at home. I decided to open a bottle of red and gave him a few sips as a treat, while we sat on the patio in our yard. Every time he leaned in to say something to me, his cologne made my pulse jump in a way that felt entirely forbidden and wildly addictive. Thankfully, my husband had no idea I was lusting after his son.

There was a thrill in the air that made my skin prickle with anticipation, as if I were a character in a movie who had finally decided to ignore the script and improvise the most scandalous scene in the entire film. He seemed to get the hint and flirted with me a little, which only made things feel more intense. He looked at me with a mixture of raw curiosity and unabashed admiration, and for a fleeting moment, I forgot about things like mortgages, career stress, and the boring weight of parental responsibility.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My roster of submissive men is long. Most thrive under the weight of my boot. Most find peace in the surrender. But then there is Elias. He’s…a bit of a glitch in my system. He doesn’t want simple obedience, he wants to see how far he can push me. Elias is the type of guy who treats my boundaries like suggestions and my commands like challenges to his own crumbling ego.

Last night, for example, he smirked when I told him to kneel. Just as I was about to correct him, his eyes darted to my face with that infuriating, inquisitive glimmer. He wasn’t looking for release, he was looking for a crack in my composure. Instead, he found the cold, clinical end of my patience.

Continue reading “Breaking Elias’ Ego” →

Pathetic Puppet

Posted 3 weeks ago by Amber

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Puppet is here, just as he always is. He is kneeling on the bare hardwood with his spine straight and his hands tucked neatly behind his back. He doesn’t speak unless I grant him permission and he doesn’t move unless I tell him to. His name really does suit him.

“Look up,” I say, quietly. My voice barely rises above the hum of the air conditioner. Instantly, his head tilts back. His eyes are wide and glassy with a desperate, frantic devotion that borders on worship. He is a masterpiece of my own making, stripped of his autonomy until he is nothing more than a vessel for my whims.

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