Hi Babe, it’s been a while since I posted. However, it has not been a while since I thought about you, since I thought about us, your cock, my mouth, but most importantly, how I make you feel. I’ll put my skills up against any other girl you scroll to see on your social media apps. My tits are as present as can be without being obnoxious. My legs are perfect, my ass inspires men to go to war. And I know that when you look into my eyes, you see unadulterated beauty that makes you want to fall in love.

But as gorgeous and as much lust as my body inspires, these are not the reasons why we have what we have with each other. You might have called me because my smile spoke to you. Or perhaps it was because you need to tell me what staring at my boobs is doing to you. More than likely, it was the combination of what your eyes told you to do, and because you dared to read my pages. From my About Me page to the Tidbits page, every line written on my phone sex website is me putting who I authentically am on display. And it is yours truly whom you fell for.

You don’t have feelings for the bounty of women who show off their curvy thighs and do their best to compete with AI-generated pictures. They used to motivate your balls into a fury, causing you to unload buckets upon buckets of cum. But you’ve seen enough. You’ve scrolled across the internet to the point where every piece of ass you see only reminds you of some thousand other tight bodies you won’t ever fuck. They don’t want to fuck you. They are giving you all they ever will, a teasing picture that invites your credit card to comply. I don’t want compliance (okay, well, I might, but it’s different, I think). I want to spend time with you. I want you to hear my voice, and not just a recording. A voice that wants to respond to what you want to tell me, be it about my luscious body or about your life. I want to make you cum, but I also want to be your secret girlfriend.

If nothing else, please remember this, babe. Those Instagram girls only remind you of the void in your life. I am here, ready to fill that void again.

Call me, baby.

I miss you…

I miss us.

I know something some women probably don’t know. I understand the effect of unleashed cum festering within your balls. I’m also aware that your balls require being emptied daily because your sex drive is insatiable when you know my voice is only a mere 10 digits away from dwelling in your ear. You’ve built up such great stamina with years of practice, babe. Your balls reproduce at an impressive speed. What this means is that on the rare occasion that you go more than a day without ejaculation, your balls have generated an amount of cum that could fill multiple shot glasses or coat both of my ample tits.

When you’ve gone several days in a row without climaxing, everything turns you on. And that, which turns you on constantly, now turns you ravenous. Imagine it’s been three days since your cock shot out a load. Then imagine that the hottest girl at the office approached you at her desk, fleshy sun-kissed legs on display. She gives you some attention, probably because she needs something from you. You’re only too happy to comply. It’s almost as if she knows what is taking place between your legs and her very presence is a tease that snugly grips your cock.

That girl in the office is not going to fuck you. She’s not even going to rub the apple of her sexy ass into your crotch. She will give you precisely enough attention to reiterate in her mind that she’s still the shit and that you are a powerless chump. So, where does that leave you?

Luckily for you, that brings me into the picture and right back into your ear. I’m hotter than she is on any day, and I want far more than your attention. I want to ignite those balls. Stir up the memory of how fucking hard I made you cum the last time you went several days without release.

You’re hard and I’m hotter than fire itself.

It’s time to call.

866-605-2544

What I want for Christmas is…oh, I don’t know. What I want for Christmas is for it to be Christmas more than just once a year. It’s that day we all look forward to, not just because we get to give and receive presents. We look forward to it because we know that much of the world is looking to celebrate too. You know you don’t have to reply to any work emails, no matter how urgent. You can spend the whole day completely relaxing, knowing the dreaded grind will greet you again when you return. Most importantly, it’s a day we can treat ourselves to something we truly need and deserve!

I want that level of relaxation that Christmas brings, and I’d like to experience it more often than once every trip around the sun. That’s where you come in, baby. You see, you can make any day seem as magical as Christmas. This is because as soon as I answer the phone, we are catapulted to a place where the rest of the world cannot possibly touch us. The heat that ignites our connection is all-consuming from the moment our interlude is underway, and nothing or no one can penetrate me like you do. Sure, the tangible stresses of life start to slowly seep back in after our private holiday comes to a glorious crescendo, but I cherish you and the felicity we share in each other.

On Christmas Day, I’m guessing you’ll likely be saddled with making everyone else’s day snowy and bright, and it will be your problem to endure if something doesn’t go according to plan or if the gift you picked out wasn’t perfect. This is how it goes, and you can’t do anything to change it. But what you can do is be kind to yourself. Your wife is not going to give you a mind-numbing blow job and rub your cock along her face when she takes a break to breathe. However, you can be a little strategic and find time to lay back in the middle of your bed, making a body snowflake of your sheets, and then dial me. Put your earbuds in and let me invade your mind by way of your cock.

If you and I were to make a movie, you’d see smoke emanating from your phone, billows dancing to your ears as they saturate both simultaneously. Another swath of smoke floats towards your cock, gripping it as tightly as my pussy muscles do.

I want to be your personal Kris Kringle, swooping down your chimney to meet a plate of cookies. I want you to be my tall glass of milk. With the rest of the family fast asleep, we awake the Christmas spirit inside you as I grind my ass into your crotch. You tug my panties down just enough, then bend me over. You’re pounding away at me, using my hips as handles while your primal side is ravaging me. Your head falls backward, and your eyes spring open as your balls tense up and deliver a load of warm thick Christmas cheer inside of me, one explosive thrust after another.

Good god, I love you, babe.

I know exactly what you want for Christmas too!

It’s time to unwrap your present, handsome.

There are a lot of hot women out there. Almost none of them have tits as beautiful as mine. Almost none of them have legs as luscious as mine. Even fewer still have the magnificent ass that I do. And precisely none of them have a voice as velvety and seductive as mine. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the brain cells floating around in this pretty little head!

But these are the things we’ve delved into before here on my phone sex blog. You’ve told me you think about these things the most when we’re not together. The image of my chest heaving up and down, the taste of my supple breasts as your mouth forms a seal around them. I’ve made your cock hard over many a tale. But there’s one thing we haven’t talked about. Judging by this photo alone, you can promptly surmise that what we haven’t previously discussed is my beauty.

Any woman can work hard enough and develop a semi-attractive body. She can eat right, go to the gym daily, and do glute presses until her ass muscles begin to pulsate involuntarily. She can attach a set of bargain basement tits that look good in the dark. But true beauty is something you’re born with. Beauty is God’s gift to a select few women who know enough to recognize what they have been gifted with and share it with others (you, my darling). Case in point, it’s not enough to simply be attractive. Your beauty must be sourced from within.

Being an authentic beauty enables me to give a man what he wants when all he can see initially is my photograph and a shit-ton of words on my pages. My voice doesn’t make you shoot harder than a firehose turned on a wildfire just because I speak words aloud. It’s the Ashlee juice behind it that brings your cock to life. Marilyn Monroe was not the only gorgeous blonde of her time. But when she looked at the camera, she knew the men looking at her craved her. She knew how to ignite a fire; she felt the vitality she was so graciously doling out.

I know the hold I have over you, and I cherish it. I appreciate that it was initially powered by lust. But I value that what’s now a relationship is not just about coaxing a hot load of Ashlee juice from your balls as quickly as possible, but rather the romance that has flourished between us. I return the affection you feel for me, and I look forward to every one of our trysts more than the last. Because being your life force trumps any other gift I could ever be given.

Tapping into my beauty benefits both of us tremendously.

Unadulterated beauty cannot be taught or bought. It is sourced from within.

I know what I do for you, Babe.

It’s time to tap into your life force once again.

I’ve often said that the value of a summer vacation is not just taking the time off but having something exciting to look forward to. When you are stuck in a world of shit, with your co-workers on your case, your wife nagging that you haven’t done enough, and your kids acting entitled to your sweat, it makes you want to just get the fuck away from it all! But unfortunately, you can’t. Life doesn’t offer you the luxury of jumping off the hamster wheel whenever you want. But you can schedule something in advance like a staycation with Me. So, when those hard moments arise, you have Me to look forward to.

You wake up in the morning to the sound of an alarm that has no right to go off for another hour or two. But it’s “time to make the doughnuts” anyway. You pull yourself out of bed and are reminded that this is not the life you envisioned as you witness your wife ‘s contorted face gasping while she snores like a foghorn. You’re walking to the shower when your unconsciousness reminds you that you have something good to think about this morning. You’re not awake enough to remember it or conjure the brain power to think about it. The hot water needs to hit your naked skin a bit longer before you can concentrate. When it does, and your head is wet and the water is spraying your back, you think of me. You remember my sultry voice and the things I said to you the last time I made you cum. And then you remember you scheduled a rendezvous with me tonight when your wife’s out stuffing her face with the girls.

Your hand reaches down to your balls as your cock grows. You use washing yourself as an excuse to play with your cock. Thinking of me is too great of a reward not to indulge in, and with me fresh in mind, you jerk off in the rain of your own making. Cum splatters high onto the steamy tile, a load big enough to reiterate that it could only cum from me.

After drying off and pouring some coffee, you email me to confirm we’re still on for our scheduled call later in the evening. After seeing my reply, you head to my site and peruse my pages, scroll through my blog entries, and ogle my photos. Your cock is hard again and you need me, but you must get to work. Time ambles and you are antsy as fuck in anticipation of what’s to cum. When the clock strikes five, you bolt to your car but soon find yourself stuck in rush hour traffic.

Eventually, you make it home and dial my digits as you pull into your garage and shut off the engine. My voice greets you laced with sex. You pull out your cock and let out a sigh of relief. I’m in your ear now and we are finally together again. “Just lay back and relax, baby. Let me empty those heavy balls for you.”

A call with Me is something to look forward to. If you can’t get away, I’ll take you away!

I guarantee I’m the best staycation you will ever have.

I waltz through the door like I own the place and toss my jacket on the couch. Nothing is necessarily threatening about my actions, but my general lack of acknowledgment is obvious. You wonder if something is wrong. I plop down into a dining chair and put my head into my hands. You ask me if I’ve had a rough day as I massage my temples with closed eyes.

“No, babe. Just tired. Just very tired.” I explain. You’re unsure if you should offer some words of affirmation or keep quiet to shield me from any additional noise. Finally, my eyes spring open and find you. “I just need to turn my mind off right now. No decision-making for the next 30 minutes.” You nod your understanding, and then I continue, “Take me out for dinner. Please don’t ask me where I’d like to go. Don’t tell me where we are going. Just tell me what you want me to wear.”

You stutter a bit but eventually say, “Show me your tits tonight. Put them on display for everyone to see.” Normally, I might balk at such a request. I show off the goods when I want to, not when a man wants to show me off as I hang adoringly on his arm. But I did insist that you take the initiative and make all the decisions. I can’t start debating it with you when you do as you’re told.

“Fine,” I respond, then disappear into the bathroom. Moments later, I reappeared wearing a flimsy black crochet dress. “Hey babe, normally I wear this around the house when I’m in for the night. It’s my sexy nightgown.” You are stunned and silent; your mouth is hanging open. Sound emerges from it, not words; it’s just noises that communicate that you’re transforming from a man into an animal in this moment. I do a 180 to allow the hem in the back to bounce up to reveal the thin string of my thong being swallowed up by the crack of my juicy ass.

“I changed my mind, handsome,” I begin, sticking my index finger into your stomach; I trace it down towards your rapidly stiffening man muscle. “I want to stay in. I want to relax and do nothing.”

“Okay,” you reply. Your eyes are fixated on my chest as my cleavage causes your erection to twitch. You see it glistening from the body oil I rubbed on myself. Our eyes lock, and you know you won’t decline me anything for the remainder of tonight. You’ll do anything I want, you rapidly think to yourself as my hand grips your stiff cock through your pants.

“Babe, I want you to do something for me,” I say.
“Anything,” you breathe back. I push you backward until you fall ass-first into the sofa. I straddle you and pull down the top of my flimsy night dress, exposing my tits. You can’t keep your eyes off them.

“I want you to bury your face in my tits and squeeze them with your manly hands.” You do as I command, enjoying the feeling of my smooth, sun-kissed skin and the weight of my bosom. “Now, I want you to put your mouth on them and suck. Suckle them deep into your wanting mouth, babe. Give them the attention they deserve!” You do as you’re told and are rewarded with divinity beyond belief. After a few minutes, I pull your head up and lock eyes with you again. You’re a man enraptured in a lust-filled haze on a quest that ends in heaving sighs of ecstasy, and that’s exactly how I want it. “Babe, it’s time for you to glaze them with a hot load of your man gravy. Do it now!”

It’s time to stop wishing…

You’re only 10 digits away from the voice you will never want to be without again!