Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Mommy Anna was planning to have her lover over. She careful curated her plan so that Daddy Ron would end up taking Ronnie out somewhere on a day venture, then she planned to sneak her lover in and spend the day with him in her marital bed.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
The rain lashed against the windows of the hotel room, fracturing the city lights into a smattering constellation of refracted lights. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cedarwood and the tension that had been building between us for months.
I leaned lightly against the built-in desk, my pulse hammering in my throat. My son’s teacher didn’t move; he simply watched me, his gaze heavy and dark. His eyes tracing the way my breath hitched.
“You’re trembling,” he noted, his voice a low, gravelly hum that vibrated right through me.
“It’s cold,” I lied, shifting away from the desk.
He rose then, moving with a predatory grace that made the room feel suddenly too small. When he stopped, he was inches away. Close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, his thumb grazing the hollow of my throat, before sliding upward to tilt my head back.
“I don’t think it’s the cold,” Making eye contact, he murmured before leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.
I gasped as his other hand found the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. The contact was electrifying
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
“Let’s see just how loud you can get.” He winked and squeezed my throat tighter before shoving my pants to my knees. Most of the heat had leached from the engine after the drive up, but I could feel some of the warmth tingling against my ass and thighs. “Can you be still for Daddy?” I shook my head no with a mocking smirk, and he responded by pressing his thumb tighter along my windpipe. “Try again.” I nodded as I wheezed for my next breath. “Better.” He kissed my forehead and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
The idea of running bounced around in my brain. I could pull up my pants and take off into the cold. Making him track me down and wrestle me to the ground before having his fun, but it was too dark, and I didn’t know where the edge of the mesa was. Instead, I inhaled deeply and listened to him rustling around in the toolbox in the bed of the truck.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
My inbox looks like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July…if every firework were a marriage proposal from a loser who still thinks “pizza delivery” is a legitimate job. First there was Kevin, the “nice guy” from my yoga class. He offered me a ring and a guarantee that I’d never have to argue about the thermostat again (I’m almost always too cold!). I politely declined, telling him I “didn’t want to be tied down,” but the real reason is because his cock is too small.
Then came Derek. He showed up with a fresh‑baked batch of cookies and a Spotify playlist titled “Songs to Sweep Her Off Her Feet (and the Floor).” I laughed, because the only thing he’s ever swept me off my feet is when his Roomba bumps into me and I fall flat on my perfect little ass! He wasn’t impressed, to say the least.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
It started by accident…but now, it is the only way I can prove to myself that anyone is truly mine. I don’t want their words, and I certainly don’t want their affection. What I crave is the primitive, grounding sensation of being consumed by a man.
I like their tongue to trace the line of my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder, and the hollow of my throat, with a focus so intense it borders on reverence. I like the wet, rhythmic heat of their wet tongue against my skin, slowly and deliberately licking and treating my body like a melting confection. Like an ice cream cone.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
My feet beat out a steady rhythm on the treadmill as I began to wind down my cool down run. My gym trainer would be checking on me soon and I needed to be ready for the stretches he’d insist on. Slowing my pace further; I drink from my water bottle, spilling a little down my chin. I wipe my chin and come to a stop. Taking a few deep breaths, I shake one leg then the other before wiping down the controls.
I turn to find my trainer right behind me. “Good job. Now let’s get you stretched out.” He nodded over his shoulder to the yoga mat he’d already laid out. I rolled my head to relax my neck and assumed the first stretch. One knee almost touching the floor, my other leg in front of me at a ninety degree angle, lunging forward. My trainer counted down before I switched.
After switching sides, it was time to do the butterfly stretch. My trainer was never happy with my progress for this one. I sat and brought my feet together in front of me, bracing my elbows on my knees; I gently pulled on my feet. The
Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203
Mistress Anna had taken on a new lover. he was quite the bull and not only did he look the part but he fucked the part as well. He was tall muscular covered in tattoos and could intimidate any man or woman just with one look. They did everything together. Everything kinky, filthy or deviant that one could dream up or think of.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
The management at my apartment complex is terrible at making timely repairs. I generally take care of small things by myself, but I had no idea how to fix the hole in my bedroom wall. While rearranging my furniture, I dropped one end of my nightstand and now there was a hole in the wall. All the way through to my neighbor’s room. I was screwed. There was no way for me to fix it.
As I was examining the hole, my neighbor walked into his room, looking like he was fresh from a work out or shower. I knew I should look away, but the way the drops of water dripped down his skin was mesmerizing. I knelt down, getting closer to the hole to have a better look.
He stripped out of his baggy shorts and underwear. I’d always thought he was attractive, and I was silently kicking myself for not making a move sooner. He was packing, and I felt my pussy throb with want.
He laid out on the bed and pulled out his phone, scrolling through videos until he found something he liked; idly fondling himself before getting comfortable and focused fully on the screen.
Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449
A few weeks ago I was cleaning out my Uncle’s storage shed and came across a box of unlabeled VHS cassettes. Who still has cassettes? Luckily I found an old VCR, cords and all, buried halfway down a pile of miscellaneous clothes, electronics and photos. After wrapping up my cleaning for the day I made sure to bring home the cassettes and VCR.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
I flip the page. The paper makes a crisp sound against the silence. “Section 1: Manual Stimulation Protocol,” I recite, reading aloud as if plainly listing the maintenance steps for a failing engine. “Begin the rhythmic application of pressure in accordance with the provided metronome beat. Speed is currently set to sixty beats per minute. Any deviation in tempo will be noted as a failure in mechanical compliance.”
On my monitor, I watch him. He is trembling. Most men think this is about desire. They are wrong. It is about total hydraulic submission. It is about treating his body as an extension of my own apparatus. “Maintain grip,” I command. My tone is flat and clinical. “Apply lubricant to the friction points to ensure smooth operation of the interface. You are not permitted to deviate from the prescribed movement. If the system experiences an overload, you are to suppress the response. Stalling the mechanism is strictly prohibited.”