Everyone has their own private fantasy world...
The entries I write for you are an expansion of mine!
Make Valentine’s Day about You (for a change)
Not every Valentine’s Day is some incredibly magical experience where two people who are head over heels in love come together to indulge in a Cupid-inspired honeymoon episode. In fact, I’ll bet that the allure of all that we regard as special on this holiday originated as a way to sell greeting cards and get men to appreciate their wives before eventually evolving into a ploy to sell jewelry, expensive dinners, flowers, chocolate, and greeting cards.
All of the pressure is on you. Girls have pressure on them too, but it’s a different flavor of pressure. For us, it’s more about showing the other girls that we’re capable of having a good man on February 14th, one eager to shower you with diamonds and nights at the Ritz Carlton. Most girls know by Christmas time if they’re going to have a man who qualifies in the eyes of their social circle. That gives them ample time to mentally prepare for the excuses they tell their friends. If, however, they have a boyfriend or husband, then they have the luxury of just sitting back, making demands, and critiquing all of your efforts.
I’d like to change things around a bit for you this year. I’m not able to relieve you of the responsibility you were sentenced to of getting a dozen red roses for your wife just when the market sees prices increase, but what I can do is ensure that Valentine’s Day is not such a one-way street. Or perhaps the better way to think about it is that I will keep it a one-way street, but I can make it so that there will be two one-way streets, with the second being from me to you. I’m not asking you to take me to dinner. I’m not asking you to send me an overpriced, heart-shaped cardboard box of exotic chocolates (“fat pills” as I like to call them). The only thing I’m asking you to do is jerk that cock of yours for me.
It can work in any number of ways, so don’t take this next suggested vision as the only way we can make our experience happen. Imagine you wake up on Valentine’s Day morning. You kiss your wife and press your morning wood up against her. She issues a snore but then greets you, followed by pulling her leg away from your erection. “What are you doing,” she says. “You have to go to work.” You relent. “Remember, it’s Valentine’s Day,” she follows with.
Inside of all but 2-3 seconds she enjoyed your morning kiss, rejected you sexually, shooed you off to work, and then reminded you that you owe her gifts, adoration, and romance later. You go off to work, calling me on your commute. “Ashlee, I, um, uh— “
But I cut you off. “Happy Valentine’s Day babe,” I say with pleasure in my voice. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered. We conversed pleasantly for several minutes, and eventually, I asked if you want to do a call, but I understand the timing doesn’t work right now. I also understand you have dinner plans and are expected to perform afterward. “Might you want to call me after she’s been serviced and put to bed? Perhaps a little Valentine’s rendezvous of our own?”
Logistics are a challenge, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. You spend much of the morning thinking about me. When you get to the office you pull out your phone and read my latest blog again. Then you leave a comment both here and on my Guestbook. Then you check out my gallery and find yourself massaging your cock through your pants. With your hard cock in hand, you peruse the other pages on my site, your eyes drinking in the new hot photographs sprinkled around on the sidebar and below. You find yourself hard as a brick when you dial me again. “Ashlee, I’ll find a quiet place. My basement, my car, hell I’ll come to the office if I must.” I tell you that you’re being a very good boy, which sends you over the edge. “Ashlee, to hell with all that. I mean, I still want to have a nightcap with you, but I’m going home right now while no one will be around and then call you right back.”
As I said, it doesn’t have to happen like this. It doesn’t even have to happen exactly on the 14th. But what I do want to happen—for your sake—is for you to be treated this Valentine’s Day for a change.
Call me, my love.
This is Cupid shooting you with an array of arrows. And I know the target has been hit!
What are you going to do about it…866-605-2544
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Your Personal Heat Source
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it is about me that has such a strong hold over you. My voice is quite an experience in itself. But it’s more. I thought about us, our relationship, why it works, and how it could be even better. And that’s when it occurred to me that it’s less about me and more about you and your desires. You need to feel the heat. You know exactly what I mean (even if I could never quite articulate it in a single blog entry).
Once upon a time, before she devolved, your girl made you hot. She brought the fire that inspired your balls. It was amazing. So amazing that you made her yours. It also gave her mastery over your balls. That was okay at the time. But when was the last time she kissed you on the neck and whispered in your ear that she wants to make love to your balls with her wet mouth? When was the last time you even hoped she would say something like that to you?
Every woman can ignite a fire. The power of a pussy, the magical ability to take over your mind through your cock is something even your significant other once possessed. The beguiling scent of a woman is arousing, to say the least. However, any scent that escapes her body these days is more likely to extinguish any lust-filled spark you may still have. That’s where I come in.
The circumstance of your situation is that unfortunately, it’s not enough for you to be willing to roll up your sleeves and decide to improve things. She must be on board too. You cannot shed pounds from her lumpy body for her. You certainly can’t wish away her frown lines or eliminate the smells emanating from her less-than-enchanting body. She’s steadily become less attractive each year. Meanwhile, the passion you’ve felt for me has grown steadily, likely in direct correspondence with her descent into perpetual doom. The further you get away from remembering what it felt like when things were hot, the more you need to find another source of heat. I am that for you.
You deserve to feel some wildfire burning in your loins. I’ll bet you work way harder today versus back in the day when she rewarded you like a king. Perhaps she was just front-loading her end of the bargain? Regardless, as someone who cares about you and enjoys being intimate with you, I am asking you not to condemn yourself to any sort of guilt over feeling unfulfilled. She represented a promise that I am now keeping.
Each time you decide today is going to be a day in which you call me, everything else around you will become different. You now have something exciting and explosive to look forward to, because in the scheme of things, everything except your upcoming call with me means less. You know that once you hear my voice, all your cares will melt away. When your cock is out, the sounds of me, of us, ringing out, will take you to a euphoric place that you’ll never want to leave. This makes your workday just a tad more tolerable.
I like that the moments when I realize that you had been stressed, tired, and overwhelmed, but I’ve been able to breathe new life into you. Nothing turns me on more than knowing I’m the one you want. You grip that powerful erection with your right hand. Squeeze it tight and feel a sensation that makes you thrilled to be alive. You stroke that cock like it’s your job. I conjure images of me straddling you, my legs resting on your hips as I bounce up and down on you, riding you until we are just losing our will and answering to instinct.
I squeeze my thighs together, then my pussy muscles follow. You moan loudly that you want me, that you need me, that, that, that—but you don’t need to say anything more. I know where you are now because I brought you there. Your mind is on fire, your cock is fucking me, and then “Oh God, Ashlee, oh God!!”
By now, whether you know it or not, your balls are working for me.
Call me, my love.
Let’s gather some kindling, build a fire in your balls, and then empty them.
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The Best Things in Life Cum…
“Dinner was delicious. Thank you, babe. I really love this place. Thank you for taking me here.” I know my gratitude was bittersweet because as much you like being out to dinner with me and seen with me around your arm when you’re out and about, leaving your home felt like an excursion.
When I arrived at your house, sporting sunglasses, a string bikini top, and denim shorts that showcased the curve of my right ass cheek, you didn’t want to go anywhere except upstairs to your bedroom. I saw how crazed you had become just by how your eyes were glued to my chest. I enjoy teasing you, which is why I pretended to beg you to take me out after our swim. “Come on babe. Let’s go out for sushi.”
Early on at the restaurant, when I ordered a drink and told the waiter we needed a few minutes I could see the frustration in your face. You were hoping for us to be just in and out (pun very much intended). Alas, the best things in life cum to those good boys who wait. An hour later, dinner has concluded when I requested a dessert menu. I reach for your leg and grip your hard cock through your pants, pressing it between my hand and your thigh. I figure playing with you like this will serve to keep you at bay a while longer while also further working you into a lustful and ravenous frenzy. I know you and I know my powers over you!
All throughout dessert, I can see you staring at my matcha green tea ice cream, silently cheering for me to finish it faster. I take my time, knowing full well what it’s doing to you. Finally, I take the last bite and announce that I need to visit the Ladies’ Room. You sigh, thinking to yourself “Of course she does.”
On the car ride home, I pretend not to notice how fast you’re driving when I ask, “Hey babe. Why don’t we stop over at—” but you cut me off, apologizing for doing so, then pleading with me to have mercy on you.
“Oh, are you anxious to get home? I thought we might enjoy each other’s company a bit longer before you drop me off.” Suddenly the prospect of not getting to fuck me at all tonight hits you like a ton of bricks. You sit there in stunned silence as you try to focus on the road.
I can see the bulge in your pants pulsate a few times before starting to contract. I let you stew for about thirty seconds before I reach over and massage it back to life. “I’m just kidding you, babe. I do want to enjoy your company a bit longer tonight. Just the three of us.” You look at me pleased but perplexed, then realize that the third person I was referring to was your third leg. I instruct you to slow down. You do as you are told. I turn on some smooth jazz and we spend the rest of the drive with my hand squeezing your achingly hard cock through your slacks.
When we step inside of your house you tear open your shirt, the buttons flying off in all sorts of directions. I reach down and find your cock stabbing through your pants. You begin to unbuckle your belt when I tell you in an authoritative tone that you are to do nothing of the sort. “The pants stay on my dear.” Before you can protest, I continue “If you think this is going to work any way other than as directed by me and at my pace, then I’ll just leave now”.
“That’s not necessary, Ashlee. Whatever you say. I’ll do anything you say. Just please don’t leave,” you plead. But you know that I love it when you show your vulnerability to me. Your rightful place is under my thumb.
I sit you down on the couch, your pants still on as I step to my knees and spread your legs. I squeeze your cock through the fabric and can feel that it’s harder than metal. Instead of taking it out and plunging it down my throat, I press on it with my wrist, pitting it up against your inner thigh. I continue that for a couple of minutes, edging you closer and closer to climax with just my small wrist. “Ashlee, please. You’re killing me. I need to cum. I need to cum badly!”
“Okay, babe. I’ll make you cum now. You can pull your pants down.” You scurry to pull your pants to your ankles. I scoop up your balls with one hand and stare at how huge they are. “Oh, babe. Are these full for me? Did you get all filled up just for me?”
“Please, Ashlee! I’m begging you.”
Seeing how horny I made you, how hard your cock is, how ravenous you are to cum, I hoist myself on top of you and slide down on you, your cock penetrating my pussy like a knife through lukewarm butter. I bounce up and down on you for about ten seconds when “Holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiiiiii…”
The best things in life cum to he who waits.
I think you’ve waited long enough.
Time for you to cum!
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I get a lot of love sent my way from men about how incredibly hot my tits are. I have eyes, I can appreciate why. They are big, but not obnoxiously big where they become entities separate from me. My breasts are shaped flawlessly; tear drops from Heaven with nipples that are just the right size and stand at attention when attention is earned. They’re firm, yet soft and feel wonderful in your mouth, your hand, or as pillows for your cock to snuggle between. I press them together to bring you to a glorious orgasm when you’re a good boy (and you usually are).
My voice gets a ton of attention. Peruse my site and you’ll see me referring to it a lot. There’s even an Ode to My Voice https://www.youronlydesire.com/ where I explicitly write about my self-awareness of the powers, I hold over you merely utilizing the sound of my voice alone. I enter your ear, the gateway to your mind. It stimulates your cock and motorizes your forearm as you fingers wrap tightly around your raging erection. I can do this because my voice does to you over the phone what my tits do when they’re inches away from your watering mouth: takes you over.
These are my most prominent weapons of seduction. But I have more for you to play with. I’ve written about my delicious apple bottom more than a few times. The way I ready myself on all fours, I hoist it in the air when your balls are aching to unload into me. You take me from behind, squeezing my hips to steady yourself. You pound away, slapping God a high five in your head all the while.
But now I’d like to turn your erection, um, I mean, your attention to another part of my body that I think is equally as hot as my tits, voice, and my ass. Let’s talk about my legs. Let’s talk about my feet. My creamy suntan thighs are the perfect place to rest your cock. I imagine us lying together in bed, the alluring scent of recent hot sex still in our mist. Your stiff cock is resting between my inner thighs. “Life is good this way,” you think to yourself, realizing that every time you’re with me a moment like this is tangible. My legs do this to you. You see them in competition with my tits and you’re ready to pass out before you can thoroughly appreciate all of my assets. But my legs, those beautiful supple thighs that form just perfectly, they make a nice surface for you to rub your cock against.
But there’s more to cum, babe. Let’s spend a moment on my feet. Is that where you prefer to blow your load? You’ve unloaded on my tits, my back, in my hair. How about my feet next? Wouldn’t they look great drenched with what’s inside your balls right now?
I am the total package. It’s not arrogance when you can back it up. I’ll take the Pepsi challenge against any phone sex operator in any category, anytime!
But you need me for so much more than I’ve touched on.
Well, it’s all right here.
Call Me, baby.
Find out for yourself what perfection exemplified feels like.
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Even in July, I bring the heat
With my hands on your knees, I look up at you and smile. It’s a perfect July summer day. The sun is beaming to the tune of 95 degrees, giving every attractive girl an excuse to wear her tits. Yours truly is not sporting anything slutty. I don’t need to do that to make a man’s cock raging hard. But raging hard is what you are for me right now. You are as hard as the sun is hot.
We’re outside, making ourselves comfortable in a beautiful backyard. One of my girlfriends—the one who struck the marriage lottery—is away for the month and asked me to stop in once in a while. I told her I’d have no problem ensuring her pool was well kept! The lawn is as green as the grass at Wrigley Field, a fire stirring in the fire pit behind me. Birds are chirping and smooth jazz can be faintly heard in the background. The smell of the fresh air made everything about this scene almost perfect, until I decided to go for complete perfection. That’s when I fell to my knees…
My hands slowly slide up your leg. Not your inner thigh (yet), rather atop your quads. Feeling my fingers and the warmth of my hands gliding over you, your cock awakens. I scratch you lightly with my nails, keeping my hands where they’re at. The anticipation of where they could travel next has ignited the engine in your balls. I’ve set a powerful machine into motion, fueled to work faster and harder when my eyes lock with yours and I give you a seductive wink.
“Baby,” I start, “would you like me to suck you off?” I ask. But who are we kidding? That wasn’t really a question. You stumble all over yourself to find your tongue before finally uttering verbal affirmation. “Oh, my bad, I know you want a blow job morning, noon, and night. But what I guess what I’m really asking is how much do you want me to give you head right now?” You look puzzled until you finally realize that I was in the mood to make you beg.
“Please, Ashlee,” you begin complying. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to feel your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock right now. There’s no price I wouldn’t pay.” You realize I’ve got you right where I want you. My hands are not fondling your balls yet, but you’re reacting precisely as if they were. My hold over you is stronger than iron and chains. I know what buttons to press, how to get you to the point of no return, and I’m also attentive enough to know when you’ve arrived there.
But on this summer day I don’t need any price to be paid beyond the confirmation of knowing that your cock is mine. Even though you’ve bound yourself till death do you part to someone else, our connection is even stronger.
Call me, babe.
Even in July, I bring the heat and I make it hotter than she ever could.
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Suns Out, Guns Out
I find it so much easier to stay active when the weather is hot. When it’s 8:00 pm and the sun is still out, it makes me want to be outside engaging in some sort of activity that causes the heart to pump faster and make a person humid and sweaty, if it’s done properly. Perhaps you and I could put our heads together and come up with something…
Last weekend, I dove into the bag of summer clothes beneath my bed; it’s easy to store tiny, revealing clothes because they take up far less room than big coats, sweaters, and jeans. For summertime and the warmer spring days leading up to it, I generally don’t wear much more than something that covers my nipples and ass. There’s nothing like the feeling of showing off a little side or under boob to announce the change of seasons! When I think about the sun shining brightly, nothing comes to mind faster than donning a string bikini at the beach.
But here’s the crazy thing about my scantily clad summer attire: I like it best when it’s strewn about on the ground. When there’s such a beautiful view outside, why would any man want to be at home with his bitchy wife and unruly kids? Simply put, when it’s warm, you’re outside. And that means you’re guaranteed to see more hot girls like Yours Truly.
Hot season also means that after ogling me, you’ll pretend you’re fucking me when your cock is actually inside your chubby wife. As the saying goes, “Sun’s out, guns out.” Well, triple down on that for me because I come equipped with some breathtaking breasts. And I love putting them on display for you!
However, I don’t want you to simply gawk at them. I want you to taste them. Touch them. Feel my fingers course through the hair on the back of your head as your lips meet my bosom, forming a suction seal on them. Suck away, babe. These tits are here to please you. I’ve kept them cooped up for too long behind winter doors. The time for hibernation is over.
I promise you’ll be like a kid in a candy store, not able to take in both of my succulent melons fast enough. You’ll bury your face in my bosom, showing me how badly you want me. I know how much of a boob guy you are. You can caress and worship my tits all you want.
But let me remind you…my backside is just as enticing!
Call me. The sun is out.
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