Tag: phonesex

Aynsley 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 459

It’s almost Halloween, and I’m feeling especially naughty. My perfect, pink 20-year-old pussy is just begging to be devoured like a decadent treat. And tonight, I’m granting that wish.

I strut around the dorm in a sultry black pussycat costume, my curves accentuated by the tight, form-fitting fabric. My bright red lipstick is smeared, giving me a wicked, come-hither look. I can practically hear the whispers of desire trailing in my wake.

But it’s not until I slip into my room that the real party begins. I shed the costume, revealing my naked body in all its glory. I take a moment to admire my reflection in the mirror. Pert breasts, toned legs, and of course, that flawless, pink slit between my thighs.

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vampire domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

Stalking me through the dim labyrinth of the old city, the vampire had likely intended to make me his next meal. His kind always did—arrogant, immortal creatures who thought they were untouchable. But I knew his type well. Desire coiled beneath the surface of his insidious grace, an itch beyond the thirst for my veins.

I let him follow me into the shadows of an abandoned theater, the scent of dust and decay clinging to the velvet seats. Then I turned to face him, arms crossed beneath my chest, the curve of my corset pressing my body in ways I knew would taunt him. “You’ve been watching me,” I murmured, tilting my head. “Do I fascinate you?”

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spooky abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Leo was a gentle giant, and seeing him in his Halloween costume always brought a fond smile to my face. “All ready, my little T-Rex?” I cooed, adjusting the scales on his neck. He rumbled, a sound that was more purr than roar, and nodded. Decked out in my own witch costume and looking a bit more gothic than glittery, I grabbed his oversized candy bucket.

Our first few houses were normal enough. Leo showed off his stomping gait, polite “trick-or-treats,” and handfuls of candy. But, as we ventured further into the older part of town, the houses became more isolated and the decorations became more…well, authentic. Cobwebs hung thick and real from unkept bushes, and the air grew colder with each step.

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succubus

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

My Succubus costume was cheap red vinyl and was slutty enough that I felt the wind lift the hem with every step. I’d spent an hour applying black as night liquid eyeliner and slicking on the perfect shade of red lip gloss that tasted like artificial cherry and bad decisions. I wanted every eye on me. The kind of attention that made lesser girls blush, the kind that promised chaos.

I moved through the crush of masked students like I owned the ground, thriving on the whistles and the lingering stares. Every glance felt like a currency, and I was rolling in it. That’s when I saw him. He was standing alone, leaning against the wrought-iron fence of an old, unused cemetery that bordered the sidewalk—a classic mistake, I realized later.

Continue reading “The Succubus” →

findom blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The worst color in the world is the pale yellow bubble hovering over my chat box. It means they are typing. They are pouring out their sad feelings, treating the glowing screen like a confessional booth, all for free. They know I trade attention for currency. Simple, brutal, and utterly true. I’m Quebecoise, which means I’m precise about my costs, and the cost of having me pretend to care about your awful Tuesday is non-negotiable.

Right now, it’s Edgar. He’s forty-something, lives somewhere humid, and sends me paragraphs about his failing marriage and his collection of vintage model trains. He keeps sending me these long, dense messages, hoping that sheer volume of misery will somehow earn him a response. But he’s not getting one unless he pays.

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cheating

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It was time to put my loser boyfriend’s cock-sucking, ego-swallowing needs where his mouth was. So, I set the wheels in motion to have some fun without him, flirting shamelessly with a handsome stranger at the bar. The way he looked at me, hung up on every word, made my pussy clench. I took his hand, leading him to the hotel room I’d booked.

As the door clicked shut, I undressed slowly, turning to give him a full view of my body – firm breasts, toned legs, the glistening pussy juice gathering between my legs. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I loved the hunger in his gaze, the desperation. It only fueled my own arousal. I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, and ground my wet pussy against that bulge in his pants.

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ghost sex

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

As soon as I finished uttering the words of my spell, the shadows in the corners of my basement didn’t just deepen; they coalesced. A figure rose from the center of the pentagram. He was transparent, tall and lean. He wasn’t monstrous, but terrifyingly perfect; his form was defined by the absence of light with eyes like distant, hungry stars. I was instantly mesmerized. “You called,” his voice hissed, a static whisper that vibrated in my teeth. “What payment do you offer, little witch?”

My breath hitched. I felt a cold knot in my stomach, but the heat of reckless desire was raging in my desperate pussy. I had aimed high; summoning not a man but a ghost from the Underworld, a creature whose touch could corrupt or worse. But still, I had to have him.

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Addicted To My Exconvicts Cock

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

“Come on, Kay, you have to come to Nick’s coming home party,” Tiffany begged. “He really wants to see you, and I know you miss him. It’s been what? Two years?”

I chewed at my lower lip as I nodded. It’d been a long time since my ex got locked up. Of course, I missed him, I was addicted to him but it was something I tried never to admit to myself. The man is toxic, dangerous, and so fucking sexy it hurts. I can’t say no when I’m around him. No matter how dumb the thing he’s asking me to do is, I always agree just to see him smile at me. I literally CAN’T go to his welcoming home party. It’d be better for me if I just pretended he was never, ever getting out of prison.

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breeding

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My hand trembled slightly as I pulled it back from Mr. Thorne’s firm grip. This was the biggest deal of my career, and it was done. “To celebrate, Stella,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you must join me for dinner.” I accepted. The restaurant was upscale, the drinks flowed, and his eyes, dark and intense, seemed to see through me, past the business woman, to something deeper.

Dinner ended, but the night was young. “One more drink?” he asked, his hand lightly on my arm as we stepped out into the cool city air. The ‘one more drink’ became two, then three, in a dimly lit bar where the music was soft and the world outside faded. He leaned closer, his scent, a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely masculine, filling my senses. My usual discipline, my careful boundaries, began to dissolve.

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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” →