Category: erotic story

Danika * (844) 332-2639 x 466

Today was an exciting day that my sweet little one had been waiting on for ages. Today Princess Tami Goes Shopping with mommy. With spring time here, and warm weather wanting us to get out of the house, we set off to get Princess Tami a few new dresses. This time of year brings out all of the pastels, and there were plenty of pink and purple frilly dresses to try on. The magic baby shop I found also has the most adorable designs for their diaper covers, as well as adorable cloth diapers! I just knew my Princess Tami was going to have so much fun today!

With mountains of dresses to try on, I held her cute little hand as I led the way to the fitting rooms. I was in awe of how spacious the dressing room was. Downy pink carpet covered the floor, the walls were lined with gilded mirrors, and the bench cushions were plush and velvety. It was the perfect place for Princess Tami to try on all of her beautiful dresses!

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Oops I cheated on You

Phonesex with Felicity 1844-332-2639 x 270

Oops, I cheated on you again. I wish I could say how sorry I am. Unfortunately, I’m not actually sorry at all. See, I was doing the grocery shopping, and this tall drink of water whispered in my ear that my sundress was making his cock uncomfortably hard. How could I just walk away with a cock in need like that?

I licked my red lips and told him to meet me in the family bathroom in ten minutes. Those bathrooms are just perfect for a little midday fuck with a stranger.

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spanked

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Daddy Ron had begun to suspect that Mommy Anna was up to something. She was still well behaved, cooked and cleaned, but she wasn’t putting out much these days. Daddy Ron decided that he would interrogate Little Ronnie, to see if he could find any clues.

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

When I first saw Chrissy, she was perched on a cracked vinyl chair in a downtown laundromat. Just a thin silhouette hunched over her laundry basket, waiting for the dryer to cycle. The dim fluorescent lights flickered above her, casting a sickly glow that made her skin look sickly and almost translucent.

“Hey,” I said, sliding onto the bench opposite her. “Are you okay?” She lifted her head, looking sad. “I’m Chrissy,” she whispered. “I’m just tired of being the joke everyone laughs at.” I studied her for a moment. “Why do you think you’re a joke, babe?” She sighed, as if she had explained this at least a hundred times before. “I know I’m not the kind of girl anyone wants. I’m so tired of being the ugly neighborhood sissy who only gets hit on during last call…But if someone could make me beautiful, like a girl that rich and successful men actually want…I’ll do anything.”

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Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

The silky robe slid off Melanie’s shoulders into a puddle at her feet. I leaned back against the porcelain tub and felt the bubbles bursting against the underside of my breasts. The warm water wrapped around me, and when I spread my legs to make room for her, I felt the rush of sensations licking at my core. She lifted a leg over the edge, and her pointed toes dipped into the surface. I reached my hand up to help her balance herself as she lowered into the bubble bath. She turned slowly until her back met my tits and then melted into my body.

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Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I had just left the coffee shop where I’d been nursing a latte, thinking about the cute guy I saw ordering coffee while I was there. He was in and out in a flash, but the scent of his cologne lingered just enough for me to daydream. I turned the corner onto Maple Avenue, my favorite shortcut, and there he was, leaning against the brick wall of the alley. It started to rain almost as soon as we made eye-contact.

I laughed in disbelief and he reached out, brushing a stray droplet of water from my cheek. The feeling of his fingertip on my face sent a delightful shiver down my spine. “You look like you belong in a movie,” he whispered. I answered with a cheeky “Only if you’re the director,” and we both giggled.

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Kara 1-844-332-2639 ext 306

Let me tell you about my caramel cream pie lover. He loved filling me with his load. The night we met, I could feel his eyes drinking in every inch of my hot, young, caramel-toned body. My movements were slow and deliberate as I strutted from the bar past him to an empty table near the corner of the crowded club.  The lights were dim, and the music was blaring sensual tunes that stirred the imagination.  My long-toned legs crossed as I made myself comfortable, rocking softly as the tall, handsome stranger grew nearer. His voice was low and deep as he leaned down to speak, “Is this seat taken?”
He pointed to the empty chair beside me.  I flashed a flirty smile as I extended my hand towards the chair, “It is now. Join me.” He sat and introduced himself, maintaining eye contact while giving me a brief rundown of his name, age, and dating status.  I returned my information, and he grew even more intrigued. “What is a hot, young, sexy girl like you doing single?” he chuckled in disbelief. “Maybe I have more fun this way.” I teased, twirling the tiny straw around in my half-empty drink slowly before bringing it to my lips, sucking away the liquid, giving him a show.

 

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Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a reputation for turning ordinary holidays into theatrical catastrophes. St. Patrick’s Day was no exception. The idea sprang from a brainstorming session with my best friend, Tayla, who declared, “You should do a striptease, Amber! Call it the Shamrock Shake!” I laughed, I blushed, and then I Googled “how to make a striptease sound Irish.” The results were…well…unhelpful, which only made the plan more appealing.

The venue was O’Malley’s, a dive bar that smelled like fried onions, stale pretzels, and optimism. The owners, two Irish twins with beards that could double as mop heads, had a St. Pat’s special. A free “Irish coffee” for anyone who could “out‑shine the leprechauns.” Tayla, ever the opportunist, whispered that the bar was desperate for a headline act that night. The twins thankfully agreed to let me headline.

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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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