Tag: phone sex

wetting pants

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I was standing impatiently in the endless line for the artisanal coffee stand when my attention drifted to a man near the condiment station. He looked utterly normal, mid-forties, sporting the kind of practical, slightly too-long khaki shorts that scream “I own a reliable minivan and believe strongly in SPF 50.” He was fiddling intently with a massive travel mug, his brow furrowed in concentration, which made him a captivating, if mildly mundane, subject for my habitual people-watching session. Which is essentially my only viable defense against the soul-crushing boredom of waiting for overpriced caffeine.

Then it happened, with a swift, silent efficiency that defied the laws of polite public existence. My eye, tracking the slight shuffle of his feet as he adjusted his weight, caught a dark spot blooming rapidly on the front of those sensible khaki shorts, right where the pocket met the thigh, and it was spreading with an alarming, undeniable velocity. Initially, my brain tried to categorize the event as a catastrophic coffee spill—perhaps a sudden rupture in the travel mug’s sealing mechanism.

Continue reading “The Man In The Khaki Shorts” →

********* blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My current curiosity belonged to Elias. He was the perfect, arrogant prince of his small, modern kingdom. A penthouse suite protected by layers of steel and, most deliciously, a web of high-definition security cameras. He was a man who believed in control, which meant he feared observation most of all.

I was the only one who truly saw the fissures in his flawless exterior, the things he typed only when he thought the Wi-Fi was off, the desires he locked away when the moon turned cold. This information was my leverage, far more potent than any rotten apple or ill-gotten jewel. I knew what I wanted and would stop at nothing to get it.

Continue reading “Milking Information From My Arrogant Prince” →

Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

“Sir,” I purred, my voice low and husky just as instructed. “I’ve been bad, haven’t I?” I arched my back in exaggerated submission, the crimson skirt riding up to expose my bare thighs.

My “master,” an imposing figure in his sixties with a greying beard sprinkled with stubble, chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Indeed, my little good girl. But fear not, for a stern discipline is just what you need.”

Continue reading “I’ve Been Bad” →

sissy bitch

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I checked my watch. Exactly 8:00 PM. No need for rushing. That is the first rule of control. A Domme never rushes. The air was cool. I like it that way; it makes the submissive shiver a little, even without fear. He was already kneeling on the thick, dark rug, waiting. He never looked up until I told him to.

Today, he was wearing the pale pink satin nightie I had selected, the cheap lace scratching his skin. His face was painted heavy, the makeup slightly smudged around the eyes from nervous anticipation. He was not a man now; he was my project. He was my sissy bitch.

Continue reading “The Rules of Control” →

abdl mommy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I know that silence is never a good sign when Timmy is supposed to be playing with his blocks. When I take a peek in his room, there he is, huddled awkwardly against the beanbag chair. His face is flushed scarlet, avoiding my gaze. I’ve only seen him do this when he’s deliberately done something he knows he shouldn’t have.

As I approach, and the air around him begins to change. The usual scent of baby powder is replaced with a humid, musky heaviness that confirms my deepest suspicion. My naughty boy didn’t hold it, and he certainly didn’t ask Mommy for help. Which now creates a significant problem we have no choice but to address.

Continue reading “Timmy Has A Messy Diaper” →

Melanie 1-844-332-2639 ext 463

I want to mesmerize you with my gorgeous feet and my sexy nude stockings. Start by taking off my stilettos. I’ll wiggle my toes through my stockings because they are free. Hold my feet in your hands and show them some love. Yes, indeed. Kiss my beautiful feet through the sheer stockings.

Next, it’s time to shed my skin. Gently grab my stockings and pull them down, one leg at a time. I would love for you to do it slowly and passionately. Once they are both off, I wiggle my toes again. I’m free, I’m free! Don’t you just love my fresh pedicure and red toes?

I sit back further on the couch as you get some body lotion. You rub it in your hands to warm it up and then start to rub your hands all over my feet. You start with my left foot and then on to the right. It feels so silky and smooth as you rub it in fully and now you’ve made my feet silky; perfect for my next activity.

Continue reading “Stocking and Foot Love” →

cuckold

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It’s not that I want Liam to suffer. Not really. It’s just that his suffering is so intensely performative that I can’t help it. He really is the sweetest guy, loyal to a fault, but he’s also fiercely territorial. And nothing gets him more dramatically worked up than the mere suggestion that another man exists in my orbit. Example? Once, he genuinely thought our elderly mailman was trying to woo me with junk coupons.

I call this dynamic “emotional seasoning.” He definitely calls it “a breach of sacred trust.” Either way, it’s wildly entertaining…for me anyway. lol Last Friday, we were out at our friend Sarah’s housewarming party. We’d been there about an hour, and Liam was settled into his usual routine – explaining the complex history of artisanal brewing while simultaneously keeping a nervous tally of everyone who crossed my line of sight.

Continue reading “I love cuckolding Liam” →

Jackie 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 330

I ain’t one to gossip, but Lord have mercy, I got myself into a right ol’ pickle last night! Name’s Jackie, y’all, and I’m a cup-a-coffee-over-a-size-10 kinda gal, blessed with curves that could rival a ripe peach basket. After knockin’ back a few too many margaritas at Sue Ellen’s, I decided it was high time to mosey on home. Called up that Uber ride-share thangy, and before I knew it, I was sittin’ in the backseat of a sleek sedan, my skirt ride-high and my panties drenched with anticipation.

Now, this driver, bless his heart, was built like a Greek god – chiseled jaw, smolderin’ eyes, and arms that could snap a two-by-four in half. I ain’t proud, but when that man’s hands brushed against my thigh, I felt my lady parts throb like a honky-tonk on a Friday night. Next thing I know, we’re pullin’ over on some deserted road, the headlights castin’ shadows on his chiseled features.

Continue reading “Ain’t One To Gossip” →

Melanie 1-844-332-2639 x463

I was hanging out with some friends one night and I completely lost track of time. I walked into the house trying to be as quiet as a mouse. As I walked into the kitchen, I was quickly surprised by the light coming on and my dad standing there with a devious look on his face.

Daddy was disappointed in me and told me how late past curfew I was. I told him how sorry I was and that I hate making daddy upset. I asked him what I could do to make things up to him.

That’s when a huge smile crept up on his face. He told me there was only one thing I could do, I would have to take the spanking of my life. Spanking always turns me on and makes my pussy wet, but I didn’t want him to know that. I started fake crying and said okay daddy.

He told me I needed to bend over his knees on the couch. That’s when he lifted up my skirt, but my panties were still up. He started by lightly groping my left ass cheek and before I could prepare myself, gave me three hard spanks.

Continue reading “Daddy Spanks Me” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My basement isn’t for old boxes. It’s for pleasure. And this week, it held Jacques. The chains were thick but soft. Not to hurt him, just to hold him. He was stretched out on the cold stone floor, a thick mat beneath him, with his arms and legs secured. On the first day, he looked excited, but a little nervous too. I just smiled. “Welcome,” I whispered, and his whole body tensed.

I started slow. Just walking around him, my bare feet silent on the floor. I wore a thin robe, the silk brushing my skin. His eyes, usually so confident, were wide and fixed only on me. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch. I bent down, just out of his reach, letting my robe open a little, showing the curve of my thigh. He made a low sound, a guttural groan.

Continue reading “My Basement” →