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!

I don’t know what it is about wearing less than a yard of fabric that makes men wildly enthusiastic about seeing me. I could stroll around stark naked and while I’d attract your constant attention, it wouldn’t be with quite the same degree of wonderment that it is if I’m donning a skimpy outfit. I suppose seeing me so scantily clad is a bit like an unspoken invitation to undress me with your eyes. And once my clothes come off, well, that’s when the fun begins.

With the weather getting warmer, one of the perks is that I can wear the same lazy Sunday attire out and about as I do inside when I’m just lounging around watching television or sunning by the pool. During the winter, I can’t just jump off the couch and take my pup for walks the way I can in the spring and summer. Being stuck inside comes with its set of benefits, (a very buxom set, I might add) but it denies me the chance to tease and torment you the way strutting with less on my body does.

But today when you arrive at my house, I answer the door in an outfit that seems more like a series of black strips tied around me rather than clothing. Black straps were crisscrossing my torso, and my hips, dangling down onto my leg. It was like a movie scene where I just escaped captivity as a sex slave. Being the one who takes orders has never been my thing, but you can’t help but admit that I look beyond fuckable. “Ashlee,” you say with your mouth hanging open, “you look incredible!”

I smile at you, rewarding you for your timely compliment. I know the greatest thrill you can experience is knowing you’ve pleased me, so I let you soak in the moment of seeing me happy. “Baby, let me grab my sarong and bag and we can head out. I can’t wait to see the lake and get in the water!

I grab you by the hand and we drive as fast as we can to the lake. As we arrive, the sky looks overcast, and the water is a bit murky, but I’m determined to get wet and so are you (even if you don’t get in the ahem…water). Once we are on the beach my hands are tugging at your belt as I lead you down closer to the water. Once I pull your belt open, I get it off your waist in one movement. Seconds later, you are completely naked, and suddenly my skimpy black suit makes me seem overdressed. I bend over to let you imagine heaven for a moment, then stand back up. I push you backward. A fly could’ve knocked you over. You lose your balance and fall into the water.

Moments later my legs are wrapped around your waist, your cock inside me as you hold my back. The water makes our rhythm easier to achieve, and bouncing on your cock is even more pleasurable. “I love you, Ashlee,” you whisper and grunt at the same time. With goosebumps covering your naked wet flesh, you cry out in ecstasy.

I’m just a girl wearing a black sex-slave-looking bathing suit, but once you push the tiny piece of fabric covering my crotch to the side, you realize that I’m the best fuck you will ever experience!

Just call and find out for yourself.

After all, No Man Calls Only Once!

They say the sun will come out tomorrow, but during winter it’s easy to forget that. Spotting a girl in a pair of skin-tight denim jeans is about the best you can hope to take in when you’re out and about when it’s chilly. The fleshy thighs have been covered up since Thanksgiving. Fortunately for us both, the season is changing and so is my wardrobe. And you know what they also say? Suns out, buns out!

I didn’t do much for St. Patrick’s Day this year. I didn’t feel the need to relive my college days when how fast you drink cheap beer tinted with green food coloring was regarded as a talent. I like catching a buzz as much as anyone, but I found more pleasure in watching the college basketball conference tournaments leading up to Selection Sunday. I spent the weekend trying on my spring and summer attire with hoops on in the background.

As I tried on my clothes, I imagined how you and your cock would react if you saw me showcasing my beautiful ass after months of viewing bulky puffer jackets and denim-draped legs. My go-to seems to be tight-fitted up top, but equally as influencing down below; that’s My favorite little flavor of March Madness.
I know my boobs usually steal the show. But sometimes I like to feature my backside too. And while I’m quite aware of the power my chest wields, my ass, on the other hand, is pretty proactive too. I am indeed grateful to possess much more than one magical weapon!

Drink in the photo that accompanies this blog entry because you are about to experience just what my framed bottom can do…

I lead you to a couch, nudging you to be seated. When your back hits the cushion I spread your legs apart and turn around. While looking over my shoulder as I’m biting my bottom lip, I begin to softly grind my silky thong-laden ass into your face. You reach out to squeeze it, but I pull forward. Watching my ass cheeks gently jiggle and twerk right there in front of your face fuels you with a lust-filled agony that is permeating your body. You can feel the urgency of pressure in your balls. They are near full capacity.

I drop to my knees and grab your belt. Your pants are soon down to your ankles, leaving only your boxer briefs between me and your cock. I rub your erection through the fabric until a huge wet spot forms on your briefs from your leaking dick. You’re breathing heavily and trying to grab at me. I reach beneath the waistband of your briefs and your wet bulging head meets my hand instantly. I aim your cock up towards your face and press the top of your shaft firmly against your flesh, removing my hand from your briefs. I caress the soft underbelly of your manhood and stare into your longing eyes. “Please, Ashlee.”

“Please what, baby?” But you don’t need to answer. You can’t answer. I stand up and show you my perfect bottom again and then lay down against your cock, lining it up with my ass crack. Pressing up against you, I rock up and down. As I continue to move back and forth, I can tell that you can’t take much more. I continue dry-humping you for a few seconds more until you frantically explode with a frenzied sense of pure pleasure and relief.

Want to experience my magical weapons for yourself?

Call me. 866-605-2544

You’re sitting at a high-top table enjoying your drink. A lot of guys come to strip clubs alone looking for a much-needed dose of rapturous distraction. One after another the scantily clad money-whores saunter over to you. They rub your shoulders and pretend that they find you as attractive as you initially find them. “Hey sexy,” they say. But you’ve grown numb to any attempts at flirtation that will not burn a hole in your pocket in two seconds flat! You crave all of them, and yet none of them. You’re on the cusp of throwing yourself a pity party and ordering another drink when suddenly the hottest set of tits you’ve ever laid eyes on appears from across the room. Her face is gorgeous, her legs go on for days. But her boobs take center stage. They are exploding out of her glittering white tasseled bikini top and bounce with a firmness that defies gravity.

The way she walks embodies the utmost confidence. It’s me, and in this fantasy, we’ve never met. I haven’t yet rocked your cock, you’ve never cum to the sound of my flawless voice, and you’re about to be hit in the face with a ton of bricks.

You see at least 6 other men are sitting comfortably between where you’re sitting and where I’m standing. You know you must have me, but unlike every other female in the joint, you cannot just simply wait for me to meander over and ask you if you want a lap dance. You know that the first guy I slightly smirk at will gladly hand me his ATM card and passcode. The entire place is enamored by the most succulent melons your mouth could ever taste. But will it be your mouth that tastes them?

But to the disappointment of the first man in front of me, I didn’t smile or try to pitch him. He was expecting me to eagerly flirt with him and eventually ask for the opportunity to grind my ass into his crotch, but I just kept on walking. It may be a strip club, and I may be a dancer, but I’m a triple threat and my brain, beauty, and body allow me to be as discerning as I wish.

Your heart started beating dare I say ahem…(hard) when you wondered if you should make a play for me. Should you walk across the club and approach me? You were stoned still in a painstaking deliberation when suddenly my eyes looked over and met yours. Involuntarily you started to get up and come towards me. You hadn’t even realized that your body had begun to move when I was no longer in view. A large and rather wide man stood up and blocked me from your sight like clouds hiding the sun. He’s another ambitious customer and another one I don’t want. You see him sulk as I push past him and find your eyes again (they were surveying my body).

Finally, I’m upon you. You’re struggling to find the right words to greet me with when I reach down and grab your cock. Your entire body convulses with pleasure. “Babe, I want to skip the niceties and the silly lap dance and take you straight to the Champagne Room.” You’re finding it hard (quite literally) to breathe, let alone, speak. But you do summon the words after a few moments…

“How much?”

“One paycheck. One paycheck and I’ll grind on your cock through the tight fabric of your jeans, cradle your head between my beautiful breasts and jack your erection until you see stars.”

* I love writing stories about us, babe. But the reality is that you do not need to go anywhere near a strip club or hand over a paycheck to experience how it feels to be the chosen one.

The truth is…

I’d chose You every time.