Tag: phone sex

naughty neighbor

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My new neighbor moved in the other day. I watched him struggle with a massive sectional sofa for an embarrassing amount of time before approaching him. I wanted him sweaty and a little out of breath. My initial move was classic because it’s always effective: the overly dramatic “lost valuable” scam. For the purposes of “research” (research, being specifically for my wet, throbbing pussy of course), I dramatically misplaced my favorite, irreplaceable, and currently non-existent diamond earring somewhere near his threshold.

“Oh, sir! I’m so dreadfully sorry, but I think the heirloom my great-grandmother gifted me has rolled under your welcome mat!” He immediately stopped struggling with the sofa and scrambled to help me search, completely missing the fact that my entire body language was screaming, “Forget the the diamond, let’s just make poor choices immediately with our clothes off.”

Continue reading “My new neighbor moved in the other day” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

People ask me, constantly, why I do this. It is about understanding the fundamental truth of the human psyche: how much they desire the total absence of responsibility. For me, being a Domme—la Déesse, if you prefer the proper terminology—is the only way I can truly breathe. Everything else is noise. But when someone kneels before me, the world outside vanishes. There is only the weighted silence of utter obligation.

I love the control, of course. Who wouldn’t love the knowledge that a single, slow lift of my eyebrow can shatter a man’s composure? But that’s just the starting point. The real allure is what comes after the initial submission: the raw trust. They put themselves and their entire emotional landscape into my hands. They need me to be sharper, wiser, and crueler than they are capable of being themselves.

Continue reading “the fundamental truth of the human psyche” →

Spanksgiving

Posted 6 days ago by Amber

spanking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

This is the story about the origin of Spanksgiving. The kitchen was thick with steam that smelled overwhelmingly of simmering basil and crushed tomatoes. Thanksgiving wasn’t complete without Mommy Anna’s infamous Neapolitan sugo, and Ronnie was slumped over the heavy cast iron pot.

“Don’t stop stirring, Ronnie,” Mommy Anna had warned. “We have company coming and this sugo cannot stick. Keep that heat low and that spoon moving!” I slipped into the kitchen hoping for a leftover cookie, but stopped in my tracks when I saw my brother. “Ronnie, you won’t believe it,” I whispered, leaning close to the stove.

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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!” →

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.” →

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.” →