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.
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.”
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.
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.
Kara 1-844-332-2639 ext 306
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.