Tag: phonesex

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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pantyhose fetish

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I leaned against the wall, crossing my legs seductively. “You like what you see, Mike?” I asked, running my hand up my thigh. His eyes followed my every movement, and I could see his dick straining against his pants. “OH…MY…GOD…YES,” he breathed, taking a step closer. I smiled, standing up and walking towards him. “Well, you’re in luck. I have a special surprise for you today.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of fresh, unopened pantyhose. His eyes widened, and I could see his dick twitch in anticipation.

“Do you want to see me put them on?” I asked, holding up the delicate fabric. He nodded eagerly, and I slowly began to slide the pantyhose up my legs, taking my time to make sure every inch of skin was covered. Once I had them on, I turned around and bent over, giving Mike a full view of my ass. I could hear him groan behind me, and I knew he was aching to touch me. But I wasn’t done teasing him yet.

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domme blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

I’m a domme who loves to punish men who drool over me. I don’t like them, I like that they pay me. Today, I’ve got a new client, a man named Jack. He’s a regular caller, but this is our first time talking. I answer the call with a sultry “Oui Bonjour, Jack.” He stammers, “H-hi, Stella.” I can hear the nervousness in his voice, and it makes my pussy tingle. I love the power I have over these men. “So, Jack, tell me, what do you want to talk about today?” I ask, my voice dripping with seduction. He hesitates then says, “I…I want to talk about…you.”

I laugh, a deep, throaty sound. “Oh, Jack, you’re a naughty boy, aren’t you? You want to talk about me? Well, let’s talk about my body, then.” I describe my curves, my small but full breasts, my tight ass, and my wet pussy. I can hear his breathing quicken, and I know he’s touching his cock. They all sound the same when they touch it. I smile, knowing I have him under my control. “Imagine my hands on your dick, Jack.

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TS Alexus 844-332-2639 EXT 349

Abusive throat fucking isn’t just for brainless bimbos. I’ve concluded that every homophobic, closed-minded boy bitch needs to have his throat stretched open by this TS Goddess and my perfect shecock. Sissy whores and thirsty females jump on my cock all day long, but I’m itching for a challenge.

That’s right; I’m talking about you. The macho man always takes what he wants and demands nothing short of perfection. Your time on top is over; now you’ll kneel before me and gargle my hot spunk like a good boy.

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Stand There and Take It, For Me

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

“Please, Mama.” He whined as his cock bobbed pathetically. “I can’t take it anymore!” The snivingly bitch wasn’t even crying real tears. My hand swatted out again. Striking the head of his erect penis and sending it flying.

Precum splattered at our feet and over his naked tummy. Thankfully, his arms were tied above his head, or he might do something stupid like try to stroke himself to orgasm. “I’ll slap it as many times as I like. It amuses me. Stand there, and take it for me.”

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

It was a four hour road trip to my friend’s ranch. The weather was beautiful. It was a sunny spring day. So I decided to put the top down, turn the music up, and enjoy the long drive. About an hour and a half in, I found myself on a desolate highway. Suddenly I had what I thought at the time was a brilliant idea. I could sunbathe while driving. First, I took off my t-shirt. Then somehow, I managed to get my jean shorts off. So I was driving along in my lacy turquoise bra and panty set. But then I decided that I really didn’t want tan lines. And no one was around. So I thought I might as well take my bra and panties off. I threw them into the passenger seat with my clothes. And there I was driving down the highway naked with the top down and my hair flying in the wind. When all of a sudden, a big gust of wind swooped in. And all of my clothes started flying out. Then I realized that I was going to have to go retrieve my clothes while completely naked. I was mortified.

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findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was always so eager. It was almost endearing. But then, softness wasn’t what he paid for, was it? He paid for the sharpest edge of my expectations, the cold precision of my demands, and the delicious humiliation that bloomed in his chest with every transaction. “Are you ready, sissy?” I typed, watching the ‘typing…’ indicator flicker on our private chat. A beat of silence, then his reply: “Yes, Mistress. Always ready.”

I smiled, a slow, controlled thing. He called himself a finsub, but to me, he was just Corey, my little piggy bank dressed in a perpetually apologetic expression, even through text. And a sissyboy, of course. That was the real fun of it. “Good. My new Louboutins are calling to me. They’re a rather fetching shade of scarlet, don’t you think?” I sent him a picture I’d pulled from the designer’s website – the most impractical, yet undeniably beautiful, pair of stilettos. “I think they would look perfect on me. Don’t you agree?”

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ass

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

His deep blue eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and fervent admiration, were locked onto me. A villainess doesn’t beg. She commands. That primal scent, a mix of leather and something else entirely, intensified. His earlier indignation had vanished, replaced by an unmistakable hunger. He was no longer the man about to call the authorities; he was merely a man. A man caught in the web I had so carefully, so deliberately, spun.

I straightened slowly, the motion deliberate, the ripped catsuit revealing just enough, yet leaving the rest to his imagination – or perhaps, his memory. The stiletto heels clicked again as I turned, a slow pivot that allowed the light to glide across the gleaming patent leather, across the exposed curve. I didn’t need to speak. The silence was louder than any words. It was filled with the thrum of his heartbeat, the rapid, shallow breaths he couldn’t quite control.

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