Tag: phone sex

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

Continue reading “The Queens of Crunch” →

Julio and His Mom

Posted 6 days ago by Cory

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.”

Continue reading “Julio and His Mom” →

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.

Continue reading “Willie and Amber Go To The Met Gala” →

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.

Continue reading “Mr. Davenport was different” →

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.”

Continue reading “He was a soldier” →

bukake

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve seen a lot in this line of work, regularly catering to all kinds of desires, but Reed was a new experience. He wasn’t looking for the usual. He had this fantasy, he explained, a very specific tableau he wanted to create for years before we met. And honestly, I’m a sucker for helping people explore their passions! He seemed genuine, a little nervous, and the money was good, so I was in.

The hotel room was generic, beige on beige, but clean enough. I got Reed settled in a chair in his underpants, with a slightly bewildered look on his face. “Just relax,” I told him, smoothing down my tight little halter dress so my tits didn’t pop out. “I promise, Reed. Everything’s going to happen exactly as you imagined.”

Continue reading “I’ve seen a lot in this line of work” →

pinged

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The notification pinged, a shrill, digital cry slicing through the quiet hum of Mark’s cheap laptop. He knew what it was before he even glanced at the screen. A DM from me. Or, more accurately, the DM. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. It was Tuesday. Rinse day. The day his meager freelance earnings evaporated, funneled willingly into the digital abyss of my demands. He’d managed to tuck away a tiny bit extra this week, clinging to the hope of finally replacing his cracked phone screen. Now, that same phone mocked him from the corner of his desk, a constant reminder of his weakness.

Mark sighed, a sound like air leaking from a punctured tire. He knew the rules. He lived by them. Or, rather, he lived for them. The thrill of the chase, the delicious self-loathing as he emptied his digital wallet, the fleeting sense of purpose it gave him. It was pathetic, he knew. Utterly and completely pathetic. He clicked the DM.

Continue reading “The notification pinged” →

Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

The moment I walked out of my last final exam, I knew – it was time to party! No more studying, no more stress, no more responsibility. Just a wild summer of non-stop debauchery. And like any self-respecting co-ed slut, I planned to start by getting absolutely fucked silly by the hottest college hunks on campus.

I sauntered into the biggest party of the year, my tight little minidress leaving nothing to the imagination. Every pair of eyes turned my way as I made my entrance. The bass pulsed through my core, making my swollen pussy lips quiver with anticipation.

Continue reading “School’s Out!” →

Last Sunday

Posted 4 weeks ago by Cory

Sunday

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Last Sunday started like any other. I woke up early, made breakfast for Ronnie and his sister, and got them ready for church. “Here,” I said, handing Ronnie a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “This is for the church donation. Make sure you put it in the collection plate, okay?” “Yes, Mama Cory,” he chirped, grabbing the money. His sister, always the responsible one, nodded solemnly. Off they went, all sunshine and smiles. I trusted them implicitly, or so I thought.

A few hours later, they returned. His sister, bless her honest heart, pulled me aside as soon as we were in the kitchen. “Mama Cory,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “I saw Ronnie at the candy shop across the street from the church after Sunday school! He was buying a whole bag of jawbreakers!” My heart sank. The donation money! I felt a surge of disappointment and a familiar maternal irritation bubbling inside me. Guiding an Abie to do the right thing can be incredibly hard, y’all! “Ronnie!” I called out, trying to keep my voice even. “Come here, please.”

Continue reading “Last Sunday” →

participant

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Liam is a willing participant in our little game of power and control. His bedroom was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation and a hint of nervous sweat. Liam was strapped to a plush velvet chair, his eyes wide and pleading. Miss Anna, a vision in a tight black dress and sky-high heels, circled him as if she had found her prey. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on my lips.

“Now, Liam,” Anna purred, her voice dripping with mock concern. “We had a deal, didn’t we? Hands behind your head. Or else…” Liam whimpered, his gaze darting between Anna and me. “But… but it’s been so long,” he stammered, his voice laced with desperation. “Please, just a little…” “A little what, Liam?” I interjected, pushing myself off the doorframe and strolling closer. “A little touch? Perhaps a little relief? You know the rules. Obedience is rewarded, disobedience is punished.”

Continue reading “a willing participant” →