Tag: phonesex

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.”

Continue reading “lunch with cousin Paulie” →

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

I’ve had some pretty crazy experiences. But the appointment with the perverted acupuncturist was one of the craziest for sure. I have been to other acupuncturists in the past. So I thought I knew what to expect. But I would have never anticipated what happened. First, the office is a little old house. The little den is the waiting room. The kitchen is the receptionist’s area. The receptionist is the acupuncturist’s wife. There is a hall with three bedrooms that have been turned into treatment rooms. It was so cute and cozy. She showed me to a room and gave me a robe and a warm blanket. She told me that the acupuncturist would be in shortly. It was dark. The curtains were thick and blocked out most of the light. I took everything off except for my panties. Then I put the robe on and laid down on the bed. The warm blanket felt so good. I actually started to doze off. But I was awakened by a very muffled moaning. It was so quiet that I thought it was just my imagination. Finally the acupuncturist came in. He was very professional, serious, and straight to the point.

Continue reading “The Pervy Acupuncturist” →

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” →

sissy blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It felt flattering at first, this intense desire to know me, every corner of my journey. He’d lean in, eyes wide and earnest, asking about the names and faces that came before him. “What was your first boyfriend’s name?” he’d ask, genuinely curious. “How old were you when you lost your virginity? What was that like?” He wanted details, not just broad strokes.

He wasn’t just curious about my experiences; it felt like he was studying them, absorbing every confession. When I mentioned I do phone sex, his interest spiked. “Why did you get into that? What was the wildest thing you ever did with a guy on a call? Or in real life?” His questions were relentless.

Continue reading “my newest sissy girl” →

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.’

Continue reading “Caught Bangin’ On The Bathroom Floor” →

pegging

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I never thought I’d find myself in the position of managing a failing company, but there I was, ready to take on the challenge. The first order of business was to assess the staff, and it didn’t take long to realize that Chris was not pulling his weight. He had only been with the company a few weeks, but wow, he was bad at his job!

I called him into my office and told him that he was on thin ice. His eyes widened, and I could see the fear in them. But then, I had a change of heart. I told him that there was only one way to keep his job. He agreed that he wanted to stay, he liked his job and all. “Alright,” I said, “remove your clothes and get down on your knees.”

Continue reading “Challenge Accepted” →

giantess

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’m what they call an Amazon, a Giantess, towering over most men, especially my own father. Dad? He’s a ‘Little.’ Not just short, mind you, but actually, genuinely small. His head barely reaches my knee, his hands are so tiny they fit perfectly in the palm of my own. In our society, women like me aren’t just leaders; we’re the bedrock, the backbone. We build, we manage, we protect. Men, the Littles, often need assistance. So, when I got my acceptance to the Grand Citadel University, Dad went into a panic.

“Who will help me reach the top shelf, Cory? How will I get to work? Who will even get me into bed at night?” He looked so vulnerable, my tiny dad, perched on the edge of the sofa, his little feet dangling. He offered me the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. “Stay, my dear. You can control the house, the finances. I’ll keep working, of course, but you’ll be the woman of the house.” It was a tempting offer. A sizable allowance sealed the deal. College could wait. Power, and a fat bank account, were right here.

Continue reading “towering over most men” →

sph

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

It was a typical Friday evening, and I was lounging on my couch, scrolling through my phone when Max’s name popped up on my screen. I hadn’t heard from him in years, not since our ill-fated relationship ended abruptly. My curiosity piqued, I answered the call. “Hey, Max,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Hey, babe,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “I just wanted to apologize for what happened between us. I know I messed up, and I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” “Max, we both know why we broke up. I just couldn’t deal with your…” I paused for dramatic effect, “micro cock.” Max sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “I know, I know. But I’ve been working on myself, and I’ve been doing a lot of research on how to please a woman. I promise things will be different this time.”

Continue reading “The Tale of Max’s Minuscule Member” →

abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 et 407

It all started innocently enough. My friend, Gary – a man whose beard had a beard and whose idea of a challenging morning was deciding between two different artisanal coffee blends – casually asked if I could “help out” for a few weeks. He’d apparently aggravated an old sports injury, which sounded legitimate at the time. My visions were of fetching him an extra-large pizza and maybe a few remote controls. Never did I envision myself becoming, for lack of a better term, his “Mama.”

The first clue was the distinct odor of Johnson’s Baby Powder mixed with something vaguely earthy. Then came the sights. A crib, oversized bottles, a mountainous pile of what I initially mistook for industrial-grade pillow stuffing, but which quickly resolved into absurdly large, plastic-backed diapers. And there, nestled amidst a sea of plush toys and a particularly garish cartoon blanket, was Gary. Not the beard-having, coffee-snob Gary I knew, but a version clad in a pastel blue onesie, sucking on a pacifier the size of a teacup, gazing up at me with eyes that seemed far too innocent for a man who owed taxes.

Continue reading “Gary – a man whose beard had a beard” →

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.

Continue reading ““she’s…French.”” →