Tag: phone sex

sex therapy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

They call me Dr. Cory. I prefer just Cory, though. It feels more intimate. My patients, especially the men, seem to appreciate that. They usually walk in here carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, desperate for a listening ear, a compassionate gaze. What they don’t see, what they could never see, is the coiled viper beneath the serene exterior. A promise I made to myself years ago, after a man, a grown man, shattered my innocence. My revenge, you see, isn’t loud or violent. It’s surgical. Psychological. It’s how I remain in complete control.

Donald was my latest project. He shuffled into my office, a walking bundle of anxiety and vague dissatisfactions. His tie was too tight, his shoulders hunched, his voice a low monotone as he listed his woes: feelings of inadequacy, trouble sleeping, a general sense of being “stuck.” Typical. The moment he sat down, I knew his path. Regression therapy. The ultimate emasculation. We’re talking diapers, pacifier, babbling…the whole shebang. He was the perfect candidate.

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gangbang

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I decided to let my hair down and indulge in a fantasy I’d always harbored, but hadn’t yet tried. It began with booking a luxurious hotel room, slipping into my sexiest lingerie, and texting ten of my most attractive guy friends, inviting them to join me for a night of debauchery and sin. To my delight, each one of them eagerly accepted the invitation.

The room buzzed with excitement as my friends arrived, one by one, each more handsome than the last. The energy in the room was electric, and I knew that tonight was going to be unforgettable. I mean, ten cocks all to myself?! How could I ever not enjoy that?! Once everyone was there, I made my intentions clear. Each of them was to take a turn with me, to fulfill my deepest desires and then make me do anything they wanted. The room erupted in cheers, and I knew I had made the right choice.

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sex blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

As Billy stepped into the shower, I admired his lean, toned body, my gaze lingering on his uncut cock, already hard and ready for me. I couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, so I stepped in after him, as my hands explored every inch of his skin. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, his voice sounding shaky. I smiled up at him, as my fingers traced the length of his shaft. “That’s okay, Billy. I’ll show you everything you need to know.”

I started by lathering up his body with a lavender mint soap, my hands eagerly sliding over his chest and down to his cock as I washed him. I took my time, teasing him with soft touches and gentle strokes until he was moaning and bucking against my hand.

Continue reading “Billy’s Uncut Cock” →

anal blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

You might expect a French girl like me to be utterly obsessed with haute couture, fine beverages, or perhaps skiing at Mont Tremblant dans l’hiver. And yes, I appreciate a good Pinot Noir and a perfectly tailored jacket as much as the next Quebecquoise girl. But my true passion, my deepest, most fulfilling joie de vivre, lies in a rather unconventional area of human anatomy. Specifically, I’m talking about the magnificent and surprisingly expressive region known as the male butthole.

There’s a certain thrill in watching a man slowly melt into a puddle of delightful vulnerability. The initial surprise, the widening of eyes, the subtle shift in their posture – it’s all part of the butthole exploration dance. They rarely see it coming; my innocent, wide-eyed French charm is an excellent camouflage, masking the mischievous intent bubbling just beneath my surface. It’s like presenting them with a delicate macaron, only to reveal it’s filled with a tiny, exquisitely potent jalapeño. Magnifique!

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groupie

Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461

They call me Jamie. Or sometimes, just ‘hey you,’ or whatever name they remember from the last town over. It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to be remembered, not really. I’m here to be forgotten. Or, more accurately, to help them forget. My life is a constant hum of tour buses and hotel rooms, a carousel of tattooed arms and whispered insecurities after the lights go down.

I’m a professional groupie, a connoisseur of the rock ‘n’ roll world. These guys…They rip themselves open on stage, pouring their hearts out for a crowd, and when it’s over, when the adrenaline fizzles and the loneliness creeps in, that’s where I come in. I’m the quiet after the roar, the comfort before the crash. Their temporary distraction. Their Band-Aid.

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cousin sex blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“Jason, I want you to fuck me,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth as I stood there, facing my cousin Jason. We had always been close, but this was something entirely different. He looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “What? Are you serious? We’re cousins, Amber!”

I nodded, my resolve firm. “I know, but I can’t help how I feel. I’ve wanted this for so long.” He hesitated for a moment, but then I saw the desire in his eyes. He stepped closer to me, his hands reaching out to cup my face. “If we do this, there’s no going back,” he warned. I nodded again, my body trembling with anticipation. “My body is yours.”

Continue reading “I Fucked My Cousin, Jason” →

blowjob

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

A good blowjob is more than just an act; it’s a performance, a communion, a journey to be guided through. From the moment the decision is made, a subtle shift happens. My focus narrows, all senses sharpen. There’s a delicious anticipation that builds, a silent understanding passing between us.

I love the ritual of it. Dropping to my knees, the soft thud of fabric on the floor, the shift in power dynamics as I meet his gaze from below. Reaching out, my fingers are already tingling, ready to receive. The first touch is always ginger, a gentle coaxing as I carefully free his cock from the constraints of his pants…shorts…underwear. He’s usually warm, already eager, and the sight of that dick standing at attention, ready and waiting, sends a little pulse of excitement through me.

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phonesex blog
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I walked into the empty storefront, the echo of my heels clicking on the polished concrete floor. This was it—the future home of OnlyFucks, a place where anything goes and sex is always on the table. No taboo is too weird or wonderful. I could already see the shelves lined with books, toys, and other delights that would make even the most conservative of folks blush.

My best friend and business partner, Jake, stood by the window, sketching out a layout on a notepad. “You know, Amber, this is going to be a fucking hit,” he said, looking up with a grin. “People are going to love it.” I smiled back, feeling a rush of excitement. “Oh, I know. I can already see the lines out the door. But first, we need to make sure everything is perfect.” He raised an eyebrow. “Perfect? Or perfectly filthy?”

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masturbation blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

From the moment he appeared at my table, a subtle electric current had formed between us. He had kind eyes, the color of warm caramel, framed by lashes that were entirely too long for a man, and a smile that crinkled the corners of his mouth just so. His black uniform, crisp and impeccable, did nothing to hide the athletic grace of his build. He wasn’t just bringing water; he was bringing heat.

“Good evening,” he’d said, his voice a low, smooth baritone. “Can I start you off with a drink?” “You certainly can,” I’d purred, letting my gaze linger a fraction too long on his lips. “And you are…?” He’d offered his name, that easy smile spreading. “Liam. And you?” “Stella.” I held his gaze, a silent challenge in my eyes. “It’s lovely to meet you, Liam.”

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abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

When most folks hear “massage parlor,” they think hot stones and essential oils. And we have those, of course. My hands are good, trained to ease knots you didn’t even know you carried. But it was never quite enough, not for me, and certainly not for some of my more adventurous clients. I noticed a pattern. A look in their eyes, a certain aspect of their tension that a standard massage just couldn’t quite smooth away. They craved a different kind of release, a deeper surrender.

That’s where the “add-on” came in. It started subtly, a suggestion here, a whispered request there. Soon enough, it became my signature service, the one that keeps my regulars coming back, often with that eager, almost wonderous glint in their eyes. After a thorough, tension-melting massage, when their muscles are liquid and their minds are drifting, I offer it. “How about something truly liberating today?” I’d purr, my voice effortlessly reassuring. Many already know what I mean. For those who don’t, I explain: a comfortable, absorbent diaper, snugged just right, a return to a state of complete, unburdened freedom.

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