Category: erotic story

Driving Jon Home

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

As most of you know, my schedule is a mess. It can be so difficult to nail down some Kayla Cumsalot time. Now, ideally, when I’m stroking you off, I’d like you to be at home. Comfortable and alone. Somewhere, where there are no distractions, and you can focus solely on me. However, we don’t live in an ideal world, do we? Work and family can keep you from putting your hands in your pants for me, and we have to be flexible and adjust.

That’s why Jon calls me while he is driving home from work. A fifteen-minute drive with lots of traffic lights. And because I’m kind of a bitch and want my dumb sub toy to be safe, he is only allowed to stroke when stopped at a red light.

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I slipped the silk camisole over my head, feeling the buttery fabric glide against my skin. My heart fluttered when I felt the delicate lace trimmed the edges of the garment. Each tiny stitch promised a day of exquisite self‑indulgence. I twirled before the full‑length mirror, watching the soft ivory cascade over my curves. The scent of fresh laundry mingled with a faint trace of vanilla from the candle on my dresser and I laughed, savoring the simple, almost reckless joy of dressing for no one but myself.

The afternoon stretched lazily and I decided to venture out for coffee. I paired my lacy underlayer with a loose, button‑down shirt that fluttered just enough to hint at the hidden treasure beneath. As I stepped onto the bustling sidewalk, a breeze lifted the hem of my skirt, teasing a flash of blush‑pink satin that made my cheeks warm with delighted embarrassment.

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Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

A leprechaun, of all things. He was no taller than my forearm, with a mischievous glint in his eyes and hair the color of a freshly sprouted leaf. His beard smelled faintly of earth after rain. My first reaction was an involuntary chuckle, then a shiver of something else. He introduced himself simply as Finn and his voice was a low trill that seemed to echo from the hollow of a forest.

We met in my basement. A room I’d painstakingly transformed into a sanctuary of shadows. Blackened velvet draped the walls, iron chains lay coiled on the table and a single, dim bulb hung from the ceiling, throwing a jaundiced glow over the concrete floor. I wore my usual leather corset, with the buckle fastened just tight enough that my breathing hitched with each inhale. My eyes, dark with anticipation, met his. Bright emeralds flickering with hunger.

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Girls are curious

Shemale Alexus 844-332-2639 EXT 349

Girls can be so curious. Curious and bold. I was at a sleepover as a young adult, one of my first and last, actually. There were three other girls and I. Somehow, the topic of porn came up, and a few of the girls said they’d never watched one before. Now, this was back in the day when you could drive to a movie rental place and pick up a DVD for a few dollars. The apartment we were staying at happened to be across the street from one of those places.

We ran across the street with giddy laughter and bravely showed our IDs to get into “the back room.” There were a few creepy, pot-bellied older men looking at dirty movie covers as we browsed. They seemed less than impressed with our high-pitched squeals and embarrassed chuckles.

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Cheating housewife

Milan 844-33CANDY Ext. 398

A cheating housewife getting cock on the side is one thing, but it takes an extra dirty mommy to let her daughter have a little fun too. My mom loved to bring her ‘friends’ over late at night when she thought I was sleeping. I could hear her moaning while they fucked her, and I started to get curious. My little cunny would get so wet imaging what they were doing. I just had to peek.

Continue reading “Cheating Housewife Gets Caught by Her Daughter” →

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I signed up for a certification in hypnotherapy because I liked the idea of it. But then it turned into something more…something powerful. The first time a client walked into my little office on the third floor of an aging building, his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite name. Curiosity? Fear? Something darker?

He introduced himself as Julian and said he was a “high‑functioning” executive who’d “just needed a little help to relax.” I began the session as I’d practiced a hundred times, using a gentle voice, a slow cadence, and a suggestion to focus on the rhythm of my breathing. “Follow the pendulum with your eyes and allow yourself to relax…” He seemed happy and booked another appointment. Success!

Continue reading “Not Your Grandmother’s hypnotherapy” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I still remember the exact moment I first saw HeyZeus across the desert. Being a whore, especially back then, I could feel the magnetic pull of his curiosity. Despite the general consensus that girls like me were dirty. There was something deeply attractive about the way his eyes flickered between intrigue and caution whenever he looked at me. I knew that it would be nearly impossible for him to ignore the growing, inevitable need to explore his desires. It was springtime in the desert, after all.

HeyZeus spoke in hushed tones of the towering expectations his father. More specifically, the insistence that HeyZeus (and everyone else in his village)’s first sexual experience should be sealed within the sanctity of marriage. His father was mighty and powerful, among other things, and had a very strong pull on the entire world’s day to day thoughts and behaviors.

Continue reading “The Whore of Nazareth” →

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I pause at the entrance of the little bar I keep for my “sessions.” It’s a dimly lit back room behind a row of forgotten bottles. Inside, the air smells of cheap drinks and old carpet, and the low hum of a jukebox plays a blues riff that feels like a warning. Not for me, of course. For him.

He’s already there, perched on a cracked leather chair, with his eyes fixed on the floor. He’s a regular. We’ll call him Aaron, though we never use names that aren’t given. Tonight, his limits are a blank page and our job is to write the story together. “Stella,” he says, as his voice trembles with a mixture of anticipation and fear. I offer him a smile that’s half invitation, half challenge. I step closer, as the click of my stilettos punctuate the silence.

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fallout roleplay

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Amber?” he asks. His voice is a little hoarse, as if he’s been rehearsing his lines in the mirror. “Come in,” I say, stepping aside and letting him cross the threshold into my apartment. The hallway is lined with photographs of old, cracked cityscapes. I lead him to the living room, where a single lamp casts a glow.

“I have a role for you,” I begin. “Tonight we’re not just two people. We’re the last two survivors in a fallout bunker and the world above is a radioactive wasteland. The air is thin, the lights flicker, and the only thing keeping us sane is a game of…imagination.”

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Mary – 1844-332-2639 x 350 

Although I was a hardheaded kid growing up, I always remembered that what daddy says goes. That was something that helped me as a live-in nanny. I never disappointed Mr. Cox; he always loved that about me. He would come home, and I would be there waiting with my heels on, kids tucked away in bed, and his dinner nice and hot. I was getting older and more mature. He was teaching me how to become the best Domme, and I was teaching him patience. I enjoyed our time together and felt like I never wanted it to end. My birthday was coming up, and he had promised to buy me a new pair of heels I had been eyeing. He told me that if I learned how to tie him up properly, I could get them for my 19th birthday.

Continue reading “What Daddy Says Goes” →