Tag: phonesex

sexy stepmom

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My new husband was away on business, so it was just his son Johnny and I in the house for the next 2 weeks. I was looking for something to do, something that would help us feel closer, when it dawned on me. I should teach him how to sexually please a woman! So, I went to my bedroom and put on the sexiest pair of red lace panties and a matching bra, and then added a sheer red robe and black stripper heels. I put my hair up in a messy bun, as I didn’t want to tangle it. This could get wild.

Johnny gulped as I made my way down the stairs. He had been playing video games and was not expecting me to appear in such an outfit. I sat in front of him, on the coffee table, blocking his view of the television. Johnny sat up, looking me up and down as I crossed my legs. “You like what you see, Johnny?” I asked, looking him in the eye. He nodded eagerly as I slipped off my robe, revealing my lacy red bra. I could see the outline of his hard dick

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voyeur ********* play story

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Jackson, you’ve been a very bad boy…” I purred into the microphone, my voice a low, seductive whisper. Jackson’s eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of my voice. He knew I was watching, but he didn’t know how. I could see the panic in his eyes. The fear of being caught! What a fantastic way to keep him in line, I thought to myself. No one likes a confident sub!

“On your knees, Jackson,” I commanded. He hesitated for a moment before looking towards the door where his wife was busy in the kitchen. “Now,” I added, my tone leaving no room for argument. He dropped to his knees, as his heart pounded in his chest. I could see it, the way his shirt moved with each beat, the way his breath hitched in his throat. I watched as he reached for his belt, his hands shaking as he undid the buckle.

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whore

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Ah, the whispers. They follow me, rustling through the market stalls, fluttering down cobbled streets. “La Française,” they hiss, as if my origin were a mark of evil itself. “That tramp. She’s a lady of the night, you know.” And then the little tittering laughs, like dry leaves moving across the pavement.

Me? I just tuck a rogue curl behind my ear, adjust the scarf I found near the canal – a surprisingly chic silk, mind you – and flash them a smile. A wide, toothy grin that usually makes them flinch. Because, mon chéri, they’re right. Every last word of it. They call me Stella. Or sometimes, if they’re feeling particularly brave and convinced of their own moral superiority, “that hussy.” I don’t mind. A name is a name, and a hussy, well, a hussy knows how to live.

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xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208

I posed, alone on stage in the darkness, waiting for the music to build. My heartbeat was pounding in my chest as the steps of my routine played over and over in my head. I’d practiced a thousand times, but this would be my first performance. I could hear the gravelly tones of men talking in hushed voices until the spotlight flicked over my body, making me the only thing visible in the room. Then, a hush fell over the crowd as the bright light above highlighted my luscious curves. The music swelled, and my hips swayed to the beat. Rhythmically. Hypnotically.

I faced the crowd expecting… I don’t know what. Horny men jerking off? Piles of cash being flung at my feet? I’m not sure what I expected, but darkness wasn’t it. My head bowed, chin tucked to my shoulder as I reached behind me to pull the strings of my top. The bodice floated to the floor, and cheers reached my ears. I wasn’t alone at all.

Continue reading “Alone On Stage” →

sissy

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

In the early days, before we truly peeled back the layers of each other, his fascination with my past was almost insatiable. It wasn’t a judgmental interrogation, but a soft, probing quest for intimacy, as if understanding my pussy’s history was the key to understanding me.

“Your First boyfriend. What was his name?” he’d ask, his voice a low hum against my ear as we lay tangled in sheets, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. I told him, a name I hadn’t thought of in years. He listened, rapt. Then, “How old were you when you fucked him for the first time?” His eyes searched mine, not for shock value, but for the story behind the number.

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

“Dr. Julie, what should I do?” Those words just kept playing over and over again, through my head. We had fallen hard for each other. I had known each him for quite some time. But after his wife broke his heart, one thing led to another. And our professional relationship crossed the line. I was in deep. He had invited me to a luxury beachfront resort for the weekend. I couldn’t believe that he had gotten us a private cabana! We were having the most amazing evening. Dinner at the rooftop restaurant was so romantic. Then we took a quick dip in the private pool. We had to quickly retreat back into our cabana and our personal hot tub because of his raging boner. And before I knew it, the hot tub jets were sending me into complete ecstasy. That’s when all of a sudden, he asked if we could talk about his fetish. I had completely forgotten about his fetish! It’s as if my brain was on rewind and I saw it all over again. Our whirlwind romance had clouded my mind with too much dopamine. But he had indeed mentioned a fetish.

Continue reading ““Dr. Julie, What Should I do?” Part 4″ →

Casual Kevin

Posted 3 weeks ago by Cory

cheating blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Kevin and I, we’d been “casual” for a few weeks, which in the real world meant “hooking up whenever his girlfriend, Honey, was out of town or at her pottery class.” My apartment was literally next door, so the commute was minimal, the discretion even less so. We both knew it was a terrible idea, but his charm was a potent, morally bankrupt force, and my willpower was…well, let’s just say it was on sabbatical.

This particular Tuesday, Honey was supposedly at a weekend-long retreat for artisanal candle makers. Kevin, ever the opportunist, had texted me at 10 AM. By 10:30, I was letting myself into his place, the familiar scent of his expensive coffee and my own impending bad decisions hanging in the air. We’d started in the kitchen, migrated to the sofa, and eventually, in a moment of utter, ill-advised passion, found ourselves butt naked, fucking on the bathroom floor.

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Under-the-Desk Toe Sucker

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

I tapped the ball of my left shoe impatiently into my under-the-desk toe suckers’ crotch. The soft surface was stiffening with every anxious tap. My legs were crossed, and my right high heel was dangling from my toes just in front of his face. I knew he could feel my anxiety; that’s why he is here. To destress me when work makes me want to pull my hair out.

“For fucks sake.” I huffed as my email pinged, and the reply I’d been waiting on was being taken in a different direction than it needed to go. “How stupid can you be?” I asked my screen and felt my under-the-desk toe suckers’ hands grip my right ankle. He slipped off my shoe and kissed the bottoms of my nylon toes. The slight tickle pulled me back into my seat, and I closed my eyes.

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anal

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I had been hired to take over the management of a failing company, and the first person on the chopping block was Chris. He had only been there for a few weeks, but wow, he was bad at his job! I called him into my office, and he stood there nervously as I told him he was on thin ice. But then, I had a change of heart. Perhaps I could fix him.

“Chris,” I began, “I’m going to give you one chance to keep your job.” He looked at me with wide eyes, hopeful that I wasn’t going to fire him. “I want to stay here,” he said, “I like my job and all. What do you need me to do to make things right?” I leaned back in my chair with a smirk playing on my lips. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised. Famous last words, I thought to myself.

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giantess

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

They say I’m an Amazon, a Giantess, and they’re not wrong. At six-foot-seven, I literally tower over most people in our world, especially the ‘Littles’ like my Dad. He’s not just short; he’s perfectly proportioned, just small. Like a doll-sized person. And in our world, women like me? We run the show. We always have.

I was supposed to be packing for university, dreaming of dorm life and lecture halls. But Dad was panicking. “Who’ll help me reach the top shelf, darling? Or drive me to the market? Or even get me up onto my bed?” He meant it. He really can’t manage those things alone. His little hands struggle with the steering wheel, and a standard bed frame is like a mountain. So, he made me an offer: stay home, and I’d be in charge. The house, the finances, everything. For an allowance, of course. A sizeable one. That clinched it. College could wait.

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