Tag: phonesex

Pretty Little Candy Girl Part Three

Trans Goddess Alexus 1844-332-2639 Ext 349

Amber didn’t sniffle or cry as I pushed her into the house—my brave little candy girl. The cabin was a single dusty room with a bathroom off to one side—a small kitchenette tucked under a small window. The twin-size bed had no sheets or pillows. “Get naked.” I barked, which made Amber flinch.

I couldn’t decide if I was happy or annoyed that she wasn’t fighting me more. Adrenaline had built up in my veins, waiting for this moment, and I was buzzing off the possibilities. Her being compliant hadn’t been a situation I considered.

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Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

It was most definitely the test drive of my life. The sexy, young salesman gave me a hands on tutorial of the car, from the passenger’s side. It was quite the experience, so sensual. Every time his hand would graze me, it was electrical. It made my whole body tingle. To be honest, I was a little nervous to be driving under his influence. I literally felt weak in the knees. But I tried to play it calm, cool, and collected. We pulled out of the dealership. I hit the throttle and we were off. The way it took off when I barely tapped the gas peddle shot a rush of adrenaline through my body. My whole body was tingling, especially my pussy. I looked over at him. There was no way I could ignore his hard cock protruding through his pants. I think the speed gave him a thrill as well. He kept looking over at my legs, or between them. I hadn’t planned on test driving anything. So I didn’t really think about the fact that I was wearing a very short dress. And it had ridden up, practically exposing my pussy. He obviously noticed.

Continue reading “Test Drive Of My Life Part 2” →

gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Across the digital ether, I was spending my day with a loser. We all know the type. He wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary, just your average gooner who’d found my corner of the internet. He paid me for my time, of course. What he bought, primarily, was attention. Curated, commodified attention. Sometimes a few pics—nothing too wild, just enough to keep the illusion alive. But what he really wanted, what he truly craved above all else, were those trigger words.

You know the ones I mean. Those exact phrases, spoken or typed, that would unravel some tightly wound spring inside him. Words that would trigger him to stroke and edge himself stupid, lost in his own private loop of self-abasement and gratification. I, the puppeteer, tugging on invisible strings with carefully chosen syllables. He, the puppet, dancing to a rhythm only he could hear.

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Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

Danny has been so bad. He’s too young to be masturbating but you and I both know, once a boy finds his penis, he’ll never leave it alone. I discovered some of his dad’s old dirty magazines under his bed and knew I had to confront him.

I came into his room last night and sat on his bed. I laid the dirty magazine between us, and his face turned so red. He was embarrassed and humiliated, but I touched his thigh and told him that, because he was too young to be touching himself the way he had been, from now on, I would be supervising his masturbation as punishment. He was clearly confused and asked what I meant.

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blog

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I glanced at the screen, and a name I hadn’t seen in over a year popped up: Scott. My ex-boyfriend, Scott. I stared for a second, wondering if it was some kind of mistake. Then the text itself loaded: ‘Hey, it’s Scott. Got a new phone, wanted to make sure you had my number.’ Um, why? Seriously. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but a reply felt unnecessary. What could he possibly want? And why now, after all this time? It’s been a full year since we spoke, since he walked in on me and Greg, since our whole world imploded.

I mean, ‘imploded’ sounds dramatic, but for me, it was more like a necessary demolition. Scott had become a lump. When he lost his job, I tried to be supportive, I really did. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and he just moped around the apartment, expecting me to pick up all the slack. Rent, groceries, bills – it all fell on my shoulders. It was overwhelming, frustrating, and frankly, I was drowning. I just needed an escape, you know? Something, anything, to make me feel alive again.

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sissy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It started a few months ago when Violet, my beautiful, curvy sissy, had a little accident in public. She had been holding it in for hours, but the pressure became too much, and she couldn’t help but let go. She called me in a panic, ashamed and embarrassed, and I could hear the tears in her voice. I knew exactly what she needed. I calmly instructed her to go to the nearest public restroom and wait for me.

When I arrived, I saw her standing there, red-faced and trembling, her eyes filled with fear and anticipation. I didn’t waste any time. As punishment, I made her get on her knees, pull up her skirt, and lick my feet clean. The humiliation of the situation sent shivers down her spine, and I could see her body trembling with a mixture of shame and excitement.

Continue reading “Violet had an accident…again” →

Body Envy

Robotic Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413

Oh, you have a bad case of body envy! I mean, it reeks. Most men look me over with sexual desire, but the green-eyed monster shines through your gaze. You don’t want to fuck my face or impregnate me. No, you want to be me. It’s obvious; I don’t understand how you’ve managed to hide your secrets from your wife for so long.

Is she just stupid, or does she not care about you at all? All the signs are there. Why can’t she see how badly you want to be a woman?

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findom

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Mark, bless his heart, shifted nervously on the edge of my worn velvet chaise lounge. His eyes, usually bright with a hopeful glint, were now clouded with a desperate hunger. He thought I liked him. He truly did. And maybe, in some twisted way, I did. But mostly, I liked the way the crisp hundred-dollar bills felt between my fingers after our sessions.

I moved with a practiced grace, as my many years of dance lessons finally started to pay off. I circled him slowly, my fingertips trailing lightly over the fabric of his neatly pressed shirt. He flinched at my touch, a tremor running through his body. He was so easy to control, a marionette dancing to the tune of my whispered commands. The rules were clear, etched in unspoken agreement between us. He could pump. He could stroke. But he could never, ever cum. He couldn’t touch me, but I could touch him. I was the conductor of this bizarre symphony of frustration, and he was my willing, albeit tormented, instrument. Nothing more than a plaything…A pet.

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Mommy's New Toilet

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

I had Dan’s ankles held up in the web of my hand and his fresh diaper was tucked right under his bare butt when it hit me like a train. I had to go and badly! My knees bumped against each other and rubbed as I started to bounce a little. The tinkle dance was taking over me, but I wasn’t finished changing Dan.

“Ohh, I have to go. I have to go so, so bad.” I whined and shook the powder over Dan’s penis. He was semi-hard, and watching Mommy dance around was making his little dock grow harder. “Fuck,” I crossed my legs, thinking Id never make it all the way downstairs and to the restroom. The open diaper under me was dry as a bone, and Dan wets so fast anyway! I climbed up to straddle his lap and pulled my panties to the side. He looked at me with lustful eyes, watching where my crotch hovered over his. “You don’t mind wearing Mommy’s new toilet for a little while, do you?”

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Belle 1844-332-2639 X 444

Prom is supposed to be a magical experience! Dressing up like a Princess to dance all night with my friends until my feet hurt. Then my handsome Prince is supposed to whisk me off to a lookout somewhere and deflower me in his Daddy’s car. Only that isn’t what happened!

My fucking Prince got wasted on spiked punch and passed out in the boys bathroom. His teammates drove us home, and I was left to end my Prom night with mascara tear streaks down my face and my virginity still intact. I wobbled into the house, carrying my high heels in one hand and wiping my eyes with the other. Tears blurred my vision so much that I walked right into my Daddy’s chest.

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