Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Dale was a man of quiet competence, held together by starched collars and a stoic demeanor that begged to be dismantled. I didn’t just want his attention, I wanted his surrender. We’d been flirting (well, he had been anyway) for months and he finally broke the stalemate one evening as everyone else was getting ready to leave for the day.

“Still working, Stella?” he asked. His voice sounded a little more vulnerable than usual. “No, actually,” I replied, standing slowly. “I was waiting for you.” He gave me a puzzled look, but I didn’t fill in the gap. Instead, I let the silence stretch until the air between us felt heavy and electric. “I think you’ve been looking for things you aren’t allowed to find, Dale.”

Continue reading “Competence”

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

“It’s going to pour,” he said. His voice was gravelly, like a low rumble that settled deep in my chest. “I don’t mind the rain,” I replied, with a wink. The sky opened up a second later and turned the street into a blur of grey and flashing light. I didn’t run. Neither did he. Instead, he reached out, wrapping his hand firmly around mine, and pulling me into the shadows of the alley.

His movements were frantic, as he pressed me against the cold, damp brick. His hands roamed over my tits, while I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer into a kiss. I reached down and he let out a sharp, ragged breath against my throat as I unzipped his pants and found his cock.

Continue reading “I don’t mind the rain”

Permission

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

“What if I don’t want to?” The moment those words left his lips, they shattered the careful dynamic of our session. My gaze became icy and fixed, watching the way he instinctively shrank as his eyes widened in fear. He knew better than to speak without my permission, yet his tongue had proven unruly.

I circled him, savoring the onset of a hunt, with my hands clasped firmly behind my back as I surveyed the pathetic tension radiating from his naked body. When I finally stopped directly in front of him, I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. I simply tilted my head, looking down at his bowed crown with a mixture of disappointment and calculated authority. “Do you truly think your opinion is something I require, especially when it is offered so carelessly?” I asked, calmly.

Continue reading “Permission”

phone sex

(844)-332-2639 ext 398

Even before I started doing phone sex my cunny would get wet if the wind blowed the right way.  Now, all I think and talk about is the next cock inside of me. And I just can’t help myself.

Yesterday, it happened while I was driving. I got a flashback to last night’s fun and the pulsing between my thighs was unbearable. Suddenly my thong felt too tight against my clit and was starting to get wet. I grabbed the cold soda can from the center console and pressed it to my neck. But the fire was coming from my purring pussy. The can slid lower until I was squeezing it between my thighs. Doing anything I can to relieve the heat between them. 

Continue reading “Phone Sex is Turning Me Into an Addict”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

He arrived at ten sharp, wearing an expensive suit and a Rolex that could’ve funded a small country. He smiled in a fake and predacious way when he saw me. “Stella,” he said, “I hear you’re an experience worth every penny.” He placed his leather briefcase on the mahogany desk and opened it, revealing a thick envelope full of cash, a stack of credit cards, and a signed contract. The initial request was that he wanted a session, but I wanted his ego. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Take a seat,” I said, gesturing to the leather chair across from me. The leather squeaked as he obliged, as his posture already flattened under his own weight. I let him linger a moment, watching his eyes dart to the sleek Manhattan skyline through the floor‑to‑ceiling windows. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that he thought he owned everything that lay beyond that glass.

Continue reading “worth every penny”

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 453

Mr. Thomas had a foot fetish. It all makes sense now. But at the time, I always thought it was weird how he would just stare at our feet. Then one day he asked me to stay after class. At first, I thought I was in trouble. But I quickly realized that it wasn’t that at all. He asked me to take off my shoes. I thought that was weird. But I did as I was told. He let out an audible groan when he saw my feet emerge from my shoes. That’s when he motioned for me to come stand in front of him. He was sitting in his desk chair. As I walked over, he couldn’t take his eyes off my feet. When I got close enough for him to touch me, he reached down, picked up my foot and set it in his lap. He rubbed it for a few seconds. Then he set it on his cock. I could feel how hard he was through his pants. Then he picked me up and sat me on his desk. He caressed and admired both of me feet.

Continue reading “Mr. Thomas Had A Foot Fetish”

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My inbox looks like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July…if every firework were a marriage proposal from a loser who still thinks “pizza delivery” is a legitimate job. First there was Kevin, the “nice guy” from my yoga class. He offered me a ring and a guarantee that I’d never have to argue about the thermostat again (I’m almost always too cold!). I politely declined, telling him I “didn’t want to be tied down,” but the real reason is because his cock is too small.

Then came Derek. He showed up with a fresh‑baked batch of cookies and a Spotify playlist titled “Songs to Sweep Her Off Her Feet (and the Floor).” I laughed, because the only thing he’s ever swept me off my feet is when his Roomba bumps into me and I fall flat on my perfect little ass! He wasn’t impressed, to say the least.

Continue reading “loser proposals”

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

It started by accident…but now, it is the only way I can prove to myself that anyone is truly mine. I don’t want their words, and I certainly don’t want their affection. What I crave is the primitive, grounding sensation of being consumed by a man.

I like their tongue to trace the line of my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder, and the hollow of my throat, with a focus so intense it borders on reverence. I like the wet, rhythmic heat of their wet tongue against my skin, slowly and deliberately licking and treating my body like a melting confection. Like an ice cream cone.

Continue reading “being consumed”

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My duties as the resident “Mama” were officially on pause. Upstairs, my ABDL boys were safely tucked into their cribs, safely swaddled with their paci’s. I kicked off my slippers with a sigh of relief as the clock struck ten. Being a caretaker for my ABDL boys was a full-time passion, but my internal thermostat was currently screaming for something entirely different. Something definitely not nursery-rhyme approved.

A wicked grin spread across my face as I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through my contacts with a wet pussy. I wasn’t looking for another playdate or a diaper-changing partner tonight, I wanted someone who didn’t know the first thing about baby powder. A hot, rugged guy who would look at me not as a caregiver, but as the woman I kept hidden behind all those bedtime stories and soft lullabies.

Continue reading “not nursery-rhyme approved”

mechanic roleplay

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As I stood at the grease-stained counter of Miller’s Auto, I knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go as planned. “Three hundred and forty dollars,” Dave said, not looking up from his ledger. He was a man composed entirely of callouses and indifference. “New alternator, labor, plus the diagnostic fee…tax…”

I looked at the counter, then at my hands. Three hundred and forty dollars was a fantasy. My bank account was a haunting echo of two-digit numbers and my rent was looming like a storm cloud. I thought about the rusted sedan in the bay behind him. It was my only tether to a job that was already dangling by a thread. Without that car, I was nothing. Without that car, I was back on the street.

Continue reading “Miller’s Auto Shop”