Category: horny phone sex

fucking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The first man I truly “noticed” was Mr. Harrow, the 58‑year‑old owner of the corner bakery. I would watch him knead dough with a rhythm that reminded me of a heartbeat, with his forehead creasing in concentration and his eyes flickering over the pastries as if he were measuring the stories they could tell.

I didn’t understand at the time, but the way he laughed made me feel that I was in the presence of someone who could teach me a few things. My infatuation grew, not in the shallow way of a teen crush, but more like a slow, deliberate ache. I started to linger at the bakery after school, pretending to need a croissant while really just wanting to hear the soft rustle of his cardigan as he moved. I’d catch his eye, and for a heartbeat he’d smile.

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Women's Clothing

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639

Skirts, bras, panties, stockings… high heels. It’s time you stopped thinking of these things as “Women’s clothing.” They are for you, too. I mean, they come in your size and look so good on your body. If wearing panties under your work clothing makes you happy, why shouldn’t you wear them?

Don’t you feel more confident when soft, nylon stockings hug your every curve under a pair of your boring jeans?

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fantasy roleplay

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

There was a time when I spent my mornings sipping coffee on the pier while the rope‑clad sailors shouted orders and hauled nets. Every time a burly deckhand looked in my direction, I felt a flutter in my already dripping wet pussy. I began to wonder whether I was simply attracted to the smell of tar and brine or to the swagger that comes with a life spent battling waves.

One breezy afternoon I decided to test my theory. I slipped into a striped nautical tee (my version of a sailor’s uniform, though I lacked the appropriate boots) and strutted down to the pier, pretending I could read the tide charts. Almost instantly, I caught the eye of one young seafarer, a lanky fellow with a tattoo of an anchor on his bicep, pretending to mend a net. I tipped my hat and said, “Mind if I borrow a rope? I’m feeling a little tangled up in my own fantasies.” He chuckled and offered me a spare coil. His fingers brushed my palm in a way that felt like a secret handshake between the tides and my imagination.

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My Big Tits

*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221

In my opinion, it’s almost impossible to find a man nowadays that isn’t into big tits. Of course, small ones are nice too. But nothing beats a sexy woman with bouncy, big tits.

I’ve been a DD since I was a teen, and I’ve pampered them and kept them firm and perfect. I treat them like gold. All of my men love licking them, sucking them and very often, fucking them.

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slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

His name is Mark. He is tall, dark‑haired, and he wears a suit that looks like it was made for him. I felt a strange heat in my chest when I saw him. I told myself it was just nerves because I really needed the merger to go through.

We sat across a long table. Papers were spread out, charts on the screen, coffee steaming in the corners. I asked about his company’s goals. He answered with a calm voice that made my thoughts drift. I could see his eyes flicker to my lips when I spoke.

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cuck

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna recently was getting harassed by one of her many Ex boyfriends. Every time he texted her, she would roll her eyes and toss her phone to do something more important.

Things began getting out of hand. He began calling her at work, writing her letters and even stalking her. He couldn’t seem to get over her and all of the filth that she addicted him to.

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Under The Snow Moon

Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208

Arm in arm, Anna and I trudged through the freshly fallen powder. Several feet of perfectly unique frozen flakes had drifted from the heavens for days on end, but not tonight. Under the bright light of the Snow Moon, nothing shifted. Only the sounds of our boots shuffling through the pure white layer, which was constantly swallowing up our feet as we moved, and the huff of condensation misting from our mouths could be heard.

The woods were eerily silent under the heavy moon. As if every creature and being were hiding from its exposure. Anna squeezed my elbow tight against her side as she looked up at the face of the moon staring back at us. “This one is powerful.” She turned her gaze on me, and my body trembled, not from fear or cold but from the excitement of the coming ritual.

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vegas

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Derek knew I wanted to go to Las Vegas. As soon as I answered his video call, he panned the camera outward. The Bellagio fountains erupted behind him, with water arcing under the cold platinum glare of floodlights. “Surprise, my little New York raindrop,” he said. His voice rumbled so low I could feel in my bones. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Think of how you looked when you came the last time I touched you.”

I didn’t close my eyes. Instead, I let the image of him fade as the fountains crescendoed, their mechanical thrum syncing with the pulse in my dripping wet pussy. When I looked back, the screen showed not his face, but his body. Drenched in sweat, naked except for the sheen of the Vegas night. His hands slowly traced the curve of his ribs, as if he were sculpting himself out of muscle and clay.

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Ignore Chat

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

Abby knelt beside my desk. Dressed in red lingerie with her eight-inch dildo shoved up her pussy. Her panties clung tight to the embarrassingly small sissy clit, so I didn’t have to look at it if I happened to catch a glimpse from my peripherals.

My fingers danced over the keys, entertaining a thrilling roleplay with a real man as Abby panted and hugged onto my ankle. Being ignored turned her on so much.

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Isabelle 1844-33-CANDY Ext 464

The wooden screen between us felt like a joke as I pressed my thighs together, my bare folds sticking against the smooth of the kneeler. ” Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” I began, my voice deliberately breathy .” I have been touching myself in the chapel, imagining your hands on my body instead of god’s, a true confessional desecration.”

Father Micheal”s sharp intake was audible even through the lattice. I could almost hear his heartbeat as I continued. “Last night, as I lay in my cot with my habit pushed up in my waist, my fingers circling my clit until I was dripping. I imagine you walking in, catching me, your cassock tented with arousal.”

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