Ass Play Phone Sex: Fisting Style.

866-448-6293

I want to see just how much you can take!! There are sooooo many naughty things I want to do and to make you do to that nasty little fuck hole of yours!! I want to see how big we can make that little asshole, I want to stretch it as wide as we can get it!!

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Morgan’s Sissy Blue Balls Phone Sex

blueballs

MORGAN 1-844-332-2639, extension 236

Oh, you silly sissy slut. You really want to go out and get fucked, don’t you? But, you know that this little teen bitch calls the shots, not you. I will determine when you get off or even if you get off. Until then, you just need to learn patience and obedience. Be a good little slut and wait for my direction.

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Mistress Jasmine’s Fucking the Sissy Strap On Phonesex

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

The bimbo sissy Katie was on her knees before Mistress Jasmine. She was professing her undying devotion and servitude to the Eastern European Goddess and Mistress Jasmine intended to make certain that this little sissy truly meant the words coming from her slutty mouth.

Mistress Jasmine was possessed of not only a dark, exotic beauty but, more importantly, an almost preternatural charisma and feminine power. It had been this way for almost as long as she could remember and while it served her purposes, it also set her apart in a way that she did not always like. She was isolated by her own exceptionalism. Nevertheless, she was far from averse to using her charm and feminine wiles to get exactly what she wanted from everybody she ever encountered.Every man wanted her to take him to her bed and every woman and sissy wanted to be her. 

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Mistress Jasmine’s Alluring Pantyhose and Heels Phonesex

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext 262

I so adore seeing you doing exactly as I demand! I love dressing you up in so much more than just a pair of panties. You NEED the ultimate in forced feminization phone sex.

Let us get your legs waxed! Feel how delightfully smooth they are now without all that nasty man hair on them! You are so turned on right just thinking about it, aren’t you? Now let us get that lacy push up bra and these satin panties and oh darling–just slip on these soft silky pantyhose and high heels. And now we must go on a fun girlie shopping spree and I will help you pick out the prettiest, most stylish outfits. The sales girls may laugh at you but what do I care? In fact, I find your humiliation gives me a little added thrill. Do not fight me. You cannot win, you know. I am a very knowing woman and I use my considerable feminine wiles so that I always get what I want. I am told by my exasperated but addicted lovers that this is part of my charm. 😉

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Mistress Jasmine’s Cherchez La Femme Sissy Phonesex

 

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

I know that when you look at me, sissy–at my perfect breasts and hips my immaculate makeup, my long legs clad in soft, silky stockings, you feel conflicting emotions. On the one hand, you think you might like to get into my pretty panties, Your silly little cocklette gets hard when you behold my beauty and you wonder what it might be like if I spread you wide open upon my bed and fucked you while wearing my favourite strap-on.

But on the other hand, you want to be me, don’t you? You want to wear my panties, to have me guide you through the feminization process, teach you how to do your makeup, how to walk in the highest  heels, how to move gracefully and perhaps, even assist you in finding hot lovers like mine. I believe I am the woman who can bring out the very best woman from you and for this reason I think of the phrase in French  “Cherchez la femme”. In French, the verb “chercher” means “to look to” or “to look for”. It’s ideal for you to“look to” a woman like me for guidance and “look for” the woman inside of you.

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Milking Phone Sex: I own your secrets.

Anything Goes Phone Sex

866-448-6293

Milking Phone Sex can be so fickle. You come to me, and you just assume you know what the fuck you’re doing. Assuming that you can figure all this out on your own. Like you know how things should be.
You know nothing. Only what I choose to allow you to know. When in all reality, I am the one controlling your life. Controlling what happens to you.

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The Feminization of Todd Stanwick Phonesex-Part 5

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

It was the day before the end of summer vacation and Todd Stanwick was elated. His summer job would end tomorrow and along with it the mad charade that he had maintained for the last two and a half months–the charade that he was a girl named Tara. He could barely contain himself when he thought of tomorrow and how he would then be able to leave the office, go home and finally and forever wash off the makeup, remove the pantyhose and heels and dispose forever of all the feminine accoutrements that had been part of his disguise and return to some semblance of normalcy, to try to recover from the humiliating mindfuck of this summer, to attempt to mend his masculinity which, after his mother’s efforts to feminize him, had been left in shreds.

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The Feminization of Todd Stanwick-Part 4

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

“I just love the way you do your makeup, Tara. And your lipstick!” said the girl at the delicatessen where Todd Stanwick had been dispatched yet again to get the office lunch orders. “What colour and brand is it?” He wasn’t sure whether that was mockery in her eyes or not. Did she recognize him from school and know that he was not a girl but a boy dressed as one? He couldn’t tell but he was desperate that she not discover his secret. He had often admired her from afar, riding on her bicycle, her blonde hair shining, whipping behind her in the wind, her high cheekbones magnets for the sun. He had had a crush on her in what seemed like a previous lifetime, before his mother had started this mad game which was forcing him to play. The Tara Stanwick game, where he was forced to feminize, forced to pretend he was a girl.

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The Feminization of Todd Stanwick Phonesex Part 3

JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

Todd could hardly believe that he was standing in his father’s office, made up to perfection, with acrylic nails glued to his fingertips, flowing long hair extensions glued to his scalp and a padded bra and matching lace panties beneath a short skirt and a blouse which was unbuttoned just a hint so that the bodice of that white lacy bra showed. And the pantyhose of course. And the high heels that his mother had insisted he wear. His mother, who was looking triumphantly at his father, whom he had not seen in months and saying, “You no longer have a son! Meet your daughter, darling. Meet–TARA! She is transgender!”

She spat the word out with contempt. Through the mad blur Todd was able to perceive the look of shock and horror on his father’s face as he looked at him. “That,” said his mother, waving her elegant, perfectly French manicured hand toward Todd, “is what comes of you having the temerity to leave ME. ME of all women! And then you didn’t bother do be around for your son, did you? This is what comes from being absent from our lives. You have done this. Are you happy?”

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The Feminization of Todd Stanwick

JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext 262

It began casually enough. Todd was sitting with his mother, yes, his beautiful mother….  Her features were patrician and perfect with just that touch of strangeness about the slant of her eyes that changes mere prettiness to beauty. Her hair was long and lush, her makeup exquisite. Even lounging on the divan, watching television with her son, she wore a designer dress that clung to her slim but luscious bodysoft, silky pantyhose and high heels. Beneath this, though Todd could not, of course see,  he knew from his furtive searches of her lingerie drawer, that she wore one of her many gorgeous matching bra and pantie sets. His mother always dressed to perfection, from the top of her head to the tips of her pedicured toes.

When the commercial for pantyhose came on the television, Todd didn’t realize the intensity of his gaze until he noticed his mother watching him with raised eyebrows and the vague disdain which was almost always part of her expression deepened into something very closely resembling contempt. “Son,” she said sternly, “why are you watching that commercial that way? It almost seems as though you want to wear pantyhose.”

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