Category: horny phone sex

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

“Dr. Julie, she says I’m a perv that can never be satisfied. Over the years she has caught me several times, with all kinds of different things. It started out with toys. First a masturbator, then anal toys, and kinkier things. Then she found fetish porn on my computer. I tried really hard to stop but I can’t stop thinking about really kinky things. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so ashamed and embarrassed to admit this. But when I have sex with her, I fantasize about some very taboo fetishes. It makes me feel so guilty. She once found a suitcase I hid in the attic. It was full of lingerie, teddies, panties, bras, socks, garter belts, stockings, and even a pair of red heels. Then there was the time she found makeup. She even found diapers once. It’s really bad Dr. Julie. She tells me that there is something wrong with me. She says this isn’t normal. I feel like such a loser. She told me that I have to get therapy. That’s why I’m here.”

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Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna was dating an educated professional. Little did he know, he was just the flavor of the week. He was smart, successful, he had everything going for him. But Miss Anna absolutely hated him. She couldn’t stand him. And the more she avoided him and treated him like the dirt, the more he would pursue her, insisting of his likeness to her.

Continue reading “Another Cuck Another Day” →

butthole blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

So, you know how everyone has that one quirky thing that makes them unique? Like, maybe they organize their socks by color, or they insist on buttering their toast in a specific way? Yeah, well, my Daddy, he’s got a thing. A very specific thing. And frankly, I’ll tell you…it’s my butt. Or, more precisely, my slightly used, fresh-from-a-long-day, let’s-be-real-it’s-a-bit-“dirty” butthole. Daddy loves a dirty butthole! Especially mine.

It’s not like he’s a hygiene menace, and I’m definitely not walking around un-wiped. No, no, no. But for some reason, the moment I’ve been out all day…rushing around, hitting the gym, maybe even just living…and I finally collapse onto the sofa, he gets this twinkle in his eye. It’s like he can smell adventure. Or, you know, just me.

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boss

Anna 844-332-2639 EXT. 203

Miss Anna had been assigned a new boss at work. She immediately couldn’t stand him at first sight. He seemed like a real prude. He would correct everything she did, and make her even re-do assignments over and over.

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Roxy 1(844) 332-2639 Ext 414

One of the members at the gentlemen’s club hired me to dance at his son’s bachelor party. Those are always fun gigs and an easy way to make a good amount of quick cash. But this one wasn’t like most. They had something different in mind. As I took the elevator up to his swanky bachelor pad, I had no idea what I was in for. It all started out like any other bachelor party. We had some drinks and mingled. Then we turned on the music and I started dancing. I gave each of the guys individual attention but focused mostly on the bachelor. He was sitting in a chair right in the middle of everyone. I decided to tease him and drive him wild by rubbing my ass in his lap and my tits in his face. Then I would go do the same to one of his friends. Every time I went back over to him, his cock was harder than before. By the time I went through all of his friends, all of their cocks were pitching tents in their pants. But the bachelor didn’t know that I had a surprise for him.

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slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The message from Puppet always started the same way: a desperate plea. He called it a “hang out,” but I knew what he really meant. “She’s in the other room,” he whispered, his voice thin and shaky as he called. “Just…just come. Please, Stella. I need you to see me.”

See him. He always wanted me to see him. It was a game, a twisted reflection of his own pathetic cravings. I felt nothing but a cold amusement. He was a puppet, all right, and I held the strings. The back door creaked as he let me in, his eyes darting to the hallway, then back to me, wide with a mixture of fear and desperate excitement.

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family fun

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Jorge emerged into my life every so often, bringing with him a fetish that most would consider very taboo: his mother. You see, theirs is a relationship that simply doesn’t fit into any of the neat boxes society has constructed. It was during one of these calls that Jorge first spoke of the attic discovery, a trove of old photographs. He described finding pictures of his mother from a time long before he was even a twinkle in her eye.

These weren’t just any old family snapshots; they were stunning, provocative images of a woman in various states of alluring undress, capturing a bygone era’s essence of beauty and sensuality. I remembered the thrill of seeing them for the first time, a genuine appreciation for the artistry and the raw, uninhibited glamour she exuded, making her truly a regular pinup girl, a testament to timeless allure preserved on faded paper.

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gang bang blog

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

I love weiners. It’s not a secret, not really. It’s more of an operating principle. A hunger. Tonight, the hunger felt particularly strong, mixed with something colder. It wasn’t about pleasure, not exactly, not tonight. Tonight it was about filling a void, a hollow place that echoed with every breath. Three of them were already there, sprawled on the floor, passing a bottle of something cheap and smelling of regret. Two more were on their way, or so I’d been told. Good. The more, the better. More bodies, more heat, more noise to block out the silence inside my own head.

I watched them roll their eyes over me, appraising. A part of me, a small, shriveled part, recoiled. But the larger part, the hungry one, just felt a numb sort of anticipation. It wasn’t about being wanted, it was about being consumed. About letting go of the reins and letting the current take me. The first one, a burly guy named Mick or Mark, I forget, pulled me down. His breath was sour with whatever he had been drinking. There was no tenderness, no soft words.

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alien sex blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My little boudoir, tucked away in the shadows of the Neo-Quebecois arcologies, is more of an intergalactic pit stop than a massage parlour. Earthlings? Pah! They are so predictable. Most prefer vanilla sex, some maybe throw in an interesting fetish or two every so often. But the extra-terrestrials? Give me a multi-limbed sentient cloud anytime. They know how to live!

It wasn’t always like this, of course. Back on old Earth, it was all just…well, skinflute city. I can’t count how many boring blowjobs I’ve dolled out over the years. Then the galactic gates opened, the tourists arrived, and suddenly, there was a whole new world of anatomy to explore. And let me tell you, when a Tralfamadorian senator offers triple credits just to have you gently hum while they regenerate their epidermal layer, you don’t say no. Especially when their epidermal layer looks like a shimmering, bioluminescent silk cocoon. It’s surprisingly peaceful, a bit like watching a very slow, very expensive lava lamp.

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Labor Day BBQ Welcomes New Neighbor

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

Every Labor Day, John and I host the neighborhood BBQ. This year, the pool was pristine and the grill was hot. I was putting out the last of the bits for the salad buffet when a stranger caught my eye. John was welcoming him through the back gate.

Now, I know everyone in the neighborhood, that’s what good Southern wives do, but this man had escaped me. “Who’s that?” I elbowed Sharon. She looked over, then swooned a little and said, “Oh, that’s Nick. He just moved in across the street. Isn’t he hunky?”

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