Category: fetish phonesex

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 453

Mr. Thomas had a foot fetish. It all makes sense now. But at the time, I always thought it was weird how he would just stare at our feet. Then one day he asked me to stay after class. At first, I thought I was in trouble. But I quickly realized that it wasn’t that at all. He asked me to take off my shoes. I thought that was weird. But I did as I was told. He let out an audible groan when he saw my feet emerge from my shoes. That’s when he motioned for me to come stand in front of him. He was sitting in his desk chair. As I walked over, he couldn’t take his eyes off my feet. When I got close enough for him to touch me, he reached down, picked up my foot and set it in his lap. He rubbed it for a few seconds. Then he set it on his cock. I could feel how hard he was through his pants. Then he picked me up and sat me on his desk. He caressed and admired both of me feet.

Continue reading “Mr. Thomas Had A Foot Fetish” →

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

Part Two 

“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.

Continue reading “On Top Of The Mesa Part Three” →

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.

Continue reading “loser proposals” →

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.

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Trampled Fuck Boy

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

Boys are basically doormats. Really, they are. Nothing but flesh bags begging to be trampled. Travis knows his place and always lies down on his back so I can break in my new stilettos. The sharp points crave puncturing his skin, and I shiver when he hollers from under my weight.

Last night, he was wearing jeans and no shirt. I guess he thought the denim would protect him from my Louboutins. I stood near his hip and gave a swift kick to his hip. He wheezed a “Thank you, Goddess, please step on me,” and I lifted my left foot to his thigh. I stepped up and pressed all my weight into the ball of my foot. Giving him a small taste of what was to come.

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Stuck In The Elevator

Trans Goddess Alexus 1844-332-2639 Ext 349

After a ten-hour workday, I was only a few floors from my bed. I rushed through the lobby of my building, “Hold the door!” I couldn’t miss the elevator. Everything had gone wrong, and if I didn’t melt into my bed in the next ten minutes, surely I would implode. It looked as if an implosion was imminent as the heavy metal doors continued to close. “Hold it!” I yelled again, pushing my high heels across the glossy marble. Just before the doors could close, a large hand gripped the door, and they backed up to let me in.

I almost fell into the box, panting embarrassingly with all of the day’s emotions becoming too difficult to contain any longer. “Th-thank you.” My hip leaned into the back corner, and I looked across the way to see who saved me. Of course, it was none other than my hunky ass neighbor, Chaz.

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My Kink

*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221

I can’t help that my kink happens to be cheating. You don’t choose your kinks after all, they choose you. That’s why it’s not my fault that I cheat. I literally can’t help it! It’s my kink and knowing that it’s wrong makes the orgasms even better!

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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.

Continue reading “Cuck by coincidence” →

mechanic roleplay

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As I stood at the grease-stained counter of Miller’s Auto, I knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go as planned. “Three hundred and forty dollars,” Dave said, not looking up from his ledger. He was a man composed entirely of callouses and indifference. “New alternator, labor, plus the diagnostic fee…tax…”

I looked at the counter, then at my hands. Three hundred and forty dollars was a fantasy. My bank account was a haunting echo of two-digit numbers and my rent was looming like a storm cloud. I thought about the rusted sedan in the bay behind him. It was my only tether to a job that was already dangling by a thread. Without that car, I was nothing. Without that car, I was back on the street.

Continue reading “Miller’s Auto Shop” →

Little Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

My neighbor asked me to babysit her little boy for the day. He was home from school because it was a school holiday. It worked out perfectly since I didn’t have class either. I thought it would be easy to watch a boy that age. He would probably just watch tv or play videogames the whole time. I mean, I was right about that. He did say he just wanted to play on the computer. So I let him sit at my desk on my computer while I studied for finals. I could tell he was acting kind of weird. But it took me a while to realize that his pants were soaking wet. I couldn’t believe a boy of his age wetting himself. When I asked him if he had an accident, he denied it. That made me even more mad. It wasn’t enough that he ruined my office chair but now he was lying to me. I’d had enough. I sternly told him to go into the restroom and take his wet clothes off. Meanwhile, I went to the closet and grabbed a diaper, some wipes, baby powder, and diaper rash cream.

Continue reading “Babysitting The Neighbor Boy” →