Tag: phonesex

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

He loves my feet! I mean, I always knew he thought they were cute. And I knew he had a little bit of an obsession with my shoes and toenail polish. The first thing he would do when I saw him was look down at my feet. He was so curious about the shoes I was wearing and what color of toenail polish I had on. But I thought that he just thought my feet were cute. I didn’t realize he had a full on foot fetish, specifically with my feet. Until the day he confessed to me. He told me that the very first day he met me and saw my feet, he knew he had to have them. Not “me”, “them!” He told me that he had never seen feet that cute, perfect, and sexy in his entire life. I was beginning to feel a little self conscious at this point. Especially because of the way he was acting. He couldn’t take his eyes off my feet while he was telling me about his addiction to them. His eyes turned feral and he started to salivate.

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Roxy 1(844) 332-2639 Ext 414

I knew he was a cigar aficionado, but I had no idea how deep his smoking fetish went. He was never without a cigar in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other. Even during long private dances. But then one night he asked me to go home with him. That’s when I learned the truth and so much more. He had me dance and strip for him. Then we sat and he began tickling my pussy with his cigar, then dipped it inside. All while it was burning.  Then he licked and sucked all of my juices off before taking a huge puff off of it. He told me we were ready for the next step. This is when it got really crazy. He stuck it in my pussy like it was a mouth. Then he told me to clench my pussy tight. He took it out and put his lips on my pussy and his tongue inside it. He told me to push as he sucked the smoke out. We kept practicing until I was able to suck a lot of smoke into my pussy and blow it out into his mouth.

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xXx Francie xXx 844-332-2639 x 208

Winter is at our doorstep, and we won’t have much more time to play in the piled-up leaves that fall leaves behind! Don’t you just love the sound of crunching foliage under our feet when we stroll together? Our evening walks together make me feel so close to you.

The crisp air whipping at our faces keeps me snuggling into you to steal your warmth. The way you hold me against your body makes me want to be naughty right here on the lawn of this park.

Continue reading “Fall For Francie’s Fall Foliage Fucking Weather” →

domme

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

“Why, Stella? Why do you insist on being the one holding the leash?” They look at the high polish on my boots, or maybe they see the faint marks on my neck left by a tightly fitted collar, wondering what I’ll say. It’s tempting to give them a chic answer about power dynamics or the beautiful theater of kink. But tonight, I will be honest. I don’t love power in the abstract. I love taking it.

The moment it happens—the shift—is a quiet, terrifying thing, even after all this time. You’re watching a person who handles boardroom negotiations or complicated machinery every day suddenly relinquish the single most burdensome thing we all carry: the right to decide. When they kneel, they aren’t just kneeling to me. They are kneeling to the absence of consequence. They are begging to hand over their anxiety, their morality, their burdensome free will, and place it directly in my hands.

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spanking

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

We were in the artisanal coffee shop downtown. Michael was staring intensely at a pastry tower, when his lower lip starting to tremble. “No, Michael,” I whispered, grabbing his arm so tightly I risked interrupting his circulatory system. “We are having a pleasant afternoon. We agreed on no more sweets because they make you too hyper.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he decided to stomp and scream as he always does whenever he doesn’t get his own way. Especially when we’re surrounded by people who might judge my parenting skills—or lack thereof. And then, like clockwork, he did it. There was a faint, yet unmistakable, shhhht sound, followed by the specific, horrible squish that only a fully saturated, cotton adult diaper can produce.

Continue reading ““Michael, we’ve discussed this at length!”” →

cock size

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It was another one of our infamous “Mama Meet-Ups,” a glorious gathering of us doting ABDL Mamas, where the coffee flowed, the gossip swirled, and, inevitably, the “boys” became the star of every conversation. I always looked forward to seeing my dear friends, Sarah and Jessica, knowing full well what delightful (and slightly competitive) chatter lay ahead. Our living rooms, usually adorned with adult-sized baby gear and pastel colors, transformed into arenas where we’d playfully boast about our boys, their latest achievements, their prodigious appetites, and, well, their more personal “assets.”

No sooner had the kettle whistled its last tune and the first round of cocoa been served, than Sarah, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, leaned forward and whispered “Oh, you guys simply wouldn’t believe what my Big Max did this morning! He filled out his special ‘super-duper-absorbent’ diaper like it was tailor-made, bulging in all the right places, of course. He’s just getting so robust, you know!”

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cock

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

When I say fill me up, I mean it. For me, the greatest thrill, the purest joy, comes in the shape of a man’s penis. Call them what you want – weiners, cocks – for me, they are nothing more than hard pleasure. The sight of one, firm and eager, makes my breath catch.

I love the feeling of putting a big juicy cock in my mouth. Thick and warm, sliding over my tongue, filling my cheeks, pressing against the back of my throat. It’s a delicious test of how much I can take and how deep I can go. The way it stretches my jaw, pushing, pulsing, making me gasp for air even as I crave more.

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pantyhose

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I have a serious thing for pantyhose. Not just an ‘Oh, these look nice with my skirt’ kind of thing. More like ‘If I could wallpaper my apartment with nude sheers, I absolutely would’ kind of thing. It’s an obsession, a fixation, a silky, glorious addiction. It started innocently enough. I had a preference for smooth legs under dresses. But then it escalated.

Now, the mere sight of a freshly opened packet of control tops sends a little shiver down my spine. The satisfying rustle as I pull them up, the way they hug every curve, the subtle sheen catching the light…it’s pure, unadulterated joy. I have an entire chest of drawers dedicated to my collection. Fishnets, opaques, sheers, shinies, matte, reinforced toe, open toe…you name it, I’ve got it, probably in three different colors.

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boobs

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Oh, Bryan. From the moment he walked into the room, my internal “boob-dar” (a finely tuned instrument I’ve developed over many years of living with these glorious twin peaks) started pinging like crazy. He had that particular glint in his eye, the one that said, “Yes, I see the whole woman standing before me, but also…have you seen those things?” I like to think of myself as having a reasonably charming personality, a witty repartee, and eyes that sparkle with mischief, but Bryan? His gaze, bless his heart, seemed to have been surgically realigned to a precise latitude just below my chin.

Our conversation was punctuated by an almost comical pattern. He’d start a sentence while his eyes valiantly attempted to meet mine, only for them to drift south with an almost gravitational pull before he’d catch himself. He’d blush slightly and restart with renewed (but fleeting) determination. I’m used to it, of course; being a woman of ample tittage means you develop a certain resilience, but with Bryan, it was less about objectification and more about an endearing, almost scientific fascination. He simply couldn’t help himself. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.

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masturbation

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

My shift has been long. The music is loud, the men are loud. On this stage, I am a queen, even if the crown is just a spotlight and the throne is a brass pole. They watch me, hands gripping their drinks, their eyes hungry. I give them a show. But inside, I feel empty. A machine on repeat. I need something real.

My set ends. The applause is sloppy. I grab my towel and head quickly toward the back hall. “Five minutes, Stella,” the DJ calls out. Five minutes. That’s enough time. I push open the door to the small storage closet near the ice machine. It smells like bleach and desperation. I lock the bolt quietly. No one ever comes back here. This dark, hidden place is mine.

Continue reading “My shift has been long and I need a break” →