Category: horny phone sex

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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family fun

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I walk into the kitchen, where you’re making lunch. Watching you, I can see the sweat on your back, the way your shirt clings to your skin. I walk up behind you, pressing my body against yours. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you all day, Paulie,” I announce. “The way your muscles flex as you move around the house, the way your jeans hug your ass. I’ve been wanting to fuck you for years, thinking about how good it would feel to have you inside me.”

You turn around, a smirk on your face. “Is that so?” you ask, your hands finding my hips. “And what makes you think I want to fuck you, Amber?” I grin, my hands moving to your chest. “Because I know you do,” I say, my fingers tracing the lines of your muscles. “I know you’ve been wanting to fuck me for years, just like I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

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Warned

I’m the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. The one your Mama warned you about. I am every Mother’s worst fear for her precious little boy. When she thinks about him growing up and finding a wife, she prays it isn’t me.

She gets on her knees and begs that he’ll find a good, wholesome woman. Not a chain-smoking, cuss word-spewing, promiscuous bitch from the trailer park. However, you don’t want a wholesome woman, do you? Aching for me is just something you can’t help! Wanting the one your Mama warned you about, but are you man enough to keep me?

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tramp

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I am a tramp. Or, as some like to say, une femme de la rue. I wake up wherever I fall asleep – sometimes under a bridge, sometimes in a park, sometimes with a very confused gentleman next to me. Life is an adventure, no?

I hear the whispers. “She sells herself for a few coins, you know.” “A lady of the night, that one.” They say it with a little shudder, a little sniff of disgust. They think I do not hear, but my ears, they are sharp like claws.

Continue reading “une femme de la rue of sluts” →

Experienced Men

Avery 1-844-332-2639 ext. 228

Experienced men will ALWAYS fuck you better then someone your own age. It’s a scientific fact!!

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had a thing for sexy, experienced men. I don’t care what anyone says, experience in bed is worth more than anything and older men will never let you down in that department. Trust me on this.
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cheater blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The bathroom floor wasn’t exactly my usual five-star accommodation, but with Mark, you took what you could get. We were mid-whatever-it-was when the silence shattered. Not with a shout, but with the soft, deliberate click of a key in the front door, followed by an equally soft, yet ominous, closing. “Honey?” I whispered, because honestly, who else has an extra key to his ‘villa’? Mark froze. He panicked.

Then she was there, framed in the doorway, clutching a grocery bag. Honey, sweet Honey. Her eyes, usually warm and crinkly from years of smiling politely at my questionable garden gnome collection, were now like laser pointers, fixed squarely on me. Not him. Me. It was as if I was the primary exhibit in a very unscheduled, very nude art installation titled ‘Caught Red-Handed: A Neighborly Disaster.’

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Julie 1-844-332-2629 Ext 453

It was a scorching hot summer day. My air conditioner had gone out. So I called a friend that owns an air conditioning repair business. He sent one of his guys over that evening. Usually they call or text prior to give me a heads up. But he didn’t. So I was in some skimpy little shorts and an almost see through little tank top. Too hot for bra or panties. But that’s not everything. I was sucking on a popcycle because it was so hot! But to top it all off, he was one of my stepson’s high school friends. He had been over to the house several times years ago. I was like a mother figure to him. Now he was all grown up. And very strikingly handsome. I felt so naked, standing before him, so scantily clad. He was nervous. I could tell. His eyes were huge as he looked me up and down. And I saw his cock grow as hard as a rock under his pants. I tried not to stare. But it was difficult to hide my arousal. I was so wet. And it was impossible to hide my hard nipples under that top.

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You Still Wear Your Mom's Pantyhose

Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

I know your secret. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s true. After a fantastic night of lovemaking, with my head resting against your chest as you slept, I heard you mumble. I listened more carefully, and what you said was, “Please, Mommy. I won’t wear them again. Don’t spank me.”

Wear them? I thought. What had my naughty boy stolen from his Mommy that caused him to get punished? “What did you wear?” I asked softly, while noting how your cock pulsed to life under the blankets.

“Your pantyhose again.” You tossed your head side to side in your slumber as if you could escape Mommy’s wrath.

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slut

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

They call me many things. “That Stella,” they’ll say, “she’s…French.” As if that one word explains it all. They see the confident stride, the red lipstick, the way my eyes meet theirs without apology. They see a woman comfortable in her skin, undeniably so, and they fill in the blanks with their own assumptions. A certain kind of woman, they think…A slut…A whore.

It’s true, I don’t shy away from desire. And yes, a man who knows how to truly hold a woman, how to make her pulse quicken, is a rare and beautiful thing. But for all the gossip, for all the whispered judgments, they miss the crucial detail: I am impossibly, ruthlessly, agonizingly selective. Most men? They don’t even get a second glance.

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