The Best decision ever…

Posted in Uncategorized on April 13, 2009 by deviantdeb

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Wow, where do I begin? This is already turning out to be the best decision of my life — outside of having my kids. There’s nothing like being appreciated. All I want is to be appreciated for what I bring to the table. And you can take one look at me and see what I bring to the table: tits, hips and the mouth of the gods. Oh yeah, I said it. When I’m in the mood I can suck a golf ball through a hundred feet of garden hose. When am I in the mood? When there’s finally a man who will take the time to recognize what a bad, bad girl I am. Is that so much to ask? I mean, you know how it is boys. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here. Do you feel like your wife or your girlfriend takes you for granted? Do you feel like you’re a volcano waiting to explode? Do you feel like as hard as you work, as much time as you put in at the grindstone, it would be nice once in a while to not go home to somebody who can’t wait to nag about where you were, where’s the money for the mortgage, the rent, the bills, the kid? Do you ever think “Shit, just once I would like to get off work and go home and have some hot chick ready to fuck the living shit out of me?” Well, let me tell you something, baby. Sometimes those hot chicks are going through the same agony, and we wish we had a man to come home and give us the respect we deserve. My husband comes home and the first thing he does is turn on the goddamn television. I want someone to come home and the first thing he does is turn me on. See to it, big man. Pick up the phone…

Are you Man enough for ME???

Posted in Phone Sex with tags , , , , on April 10, 2009 by deviantdeb

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What are you waiting for? Are you going to make me beg? Is that what you want? Well, you’re not gonna get it. I’m through with begging, pleading, crying for some man to give me what I want. Now I give the orders, now I make the demands. You can take one look and tell that I’ve got the goods. I’m not shy about saying it and I’m not shy about putting them to the test. Maybe you think you’re the one? Really? You know, you’re not the first. Many a man has tried and failed to take me and make me his own. Right now, the man snoring behind me on the bed thinks I’m just his dutiful little housewife looking up recipes to surprise him with. He doesn’t know that I’m on here chomping at the bit, looking for a reason to be bad and a man to do it with. Trust me, if you’re looking for a wife, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for a girlfriend, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on, look elsewhere. I have needs baby, and I want them to be met. I’m through being patient, I’m through being sweet and taking care of everybody else. Now I want someone to be taking care of me. Paying my bills is not nearly enough. Paying my rent is not nearly enough. Frankly, one thing I’m realizing is that if push comes to shove I don’t need a man to do any of that. I just take that because I can. But he’s not nearly man enough for a woman like me. He doesn’t even want to be. Do you? Hm, I can’t tell from here. I’m a show me kind of girl, sugar. Sorry, that’s just the way I was raised. So come on, let’s play a little game of call and tell…

I want you… you know it!!

Posted in Phone Sex with tags , , , , on April 8, 2009 by deviantdeb

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I can feel your eyes on me. When I’m brushing my hair at my vanity I see you standing behind me in the mirror. I feel your hands on my neck. I feel your breath in my ear whispering to me. Just the tone of your voice alone tells me everything I need to know about your intentions. I’m blushing. You always make me blush when you sneak up on me like this, when all I’m wearing is a shear see-through nightie. It’s like the only thing between me and adultery is a whisper. Oh no, you can see my nipples grow hard through the thin fabric. You know my head shaking belies the truth the rest of my body is telling you. The goose bumps that appear on my skin at your touch make you laugh quietly with the knowledge of your power. Slowly, stealthily you curl your hand around my long, golden hair. Then, with a sudden show of force you yank my head and my mouth opens in a gasp. I try to scream, to protest but with your tongue down my throat, well, it’s difficult to say the least. Your hands take full liberties with my body, kneading my breasts, working my nipples, sliding down my belly. I try and hold my legs together but I don’t have the leverage with your tongue in my mouth. You are so, so strong. You yank my legs apart and before I can stop you your hand reaches me down there. You feel I’m moist and the truth you knew all along is revealed. I want you. You know it. And now I know you know it and there’s nothing for me to do but to be true to myself. We’re staring at each other through the mirror of my vanity as night gown slides to the floor. Downstairs we hear my husband come in through the front door…

I’m a real women

Posted in Phone Sex with tags , , , , on April 6, 2009 by deviantdeb

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Okay, here we go. I’m nervous I have to admit. Bear with me. I don’t consider myself a writer. But shit, this is my site, right? I can just be myself. That’s all you boys want, right? Is me to be me? Lord knows, I don’t have to fake it. I’ve done waaaaaayy too much of that in my life. No, this is the real me: real tits, real curves, real wants, needs and desires. I’m a real woman.

And god, I like to fuck.

Yeah, I guess that’s one I should add. I’m real bad. As in, I’m a really, really bad girl. I’m oh so naughty. I’m worse nowadays because I’ve been good for way too long. It’s tough, you know? You feel like you have duties, responsibilities. And you do! There’s no denying that. But at some point isn’t your most important duty or responsibility to yourself? If that makes me a bad girl, so be it. The moment has arrived for some quality Me Time.

And that – oh my god, I can’t believe I’m writing this – brings me to you. Yes, you, you reading this right now, I’m talking about you. Don’t you see this is not an accident? You were meant to find me right here, at this moment in time, waiting for you. Don’t you see how your desire led you through all of your life, through work, through family, through distractions, through everything…to find me here? Let’s not talk about families, let’s not talk about responsibilities. I am so done with that right now. Look at me. Look at these lips, these full and heavy breasts, these real-woman curves. You know what a body like this is built for. I know what a man like you needs. There’s no reason to wait. There’s nothing here but fear…and atmosphere. Pick up the phone…

The Need

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on March 12, 2009 by deviantdeb

deviant-deb1I need.

Hi boys. My name is Deb. Don’t take me for just another girl on-line. I may not look it but I’m shy. This is not me in real life. Or maybe it is. Maybe the other me is the fake and this is my true self. I don’t know. All I know is I could never do this kind of thing if anyone found out. I mean, you know, anyone out here or whatever you call it. Anyone I would meet on the streets. So, keep my secret, okay? Let’s just keep this between me and you. Private. Secret. I like secrets. They make me wet.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m new to this whole internet business. Excuse me if I’m clumsy or a little forward. I’m still finding my way. But see, I had to do something. There comes a time, you know, when you have to take control of your own life and if you don’t, well, whatever happens then is your fault. Well, I’ve decided to take control. You see, I’m thirty nine, I’m married, and I have kids who are for the most part out of the house. Sometimes I look around and I realize that a lot of this world feels like I’m done. I’ve already finished what I came here to do. The rest of the world may feel that way, my husband may feel that way, even my children, lovely though they are, don’t necessarily want there to be more to me than just their mom. I even understand that.

It’s just not the way it is.

I’m thirty-nine, not ninety-nine. I’m not ready to be put out to pasture. I still have my looks. I take care of my body. When I go to the supermarket I feel eyes searching, probing, my cleavage, my ass, my neck, my legs. I might be a mom but I think they’d all fuck me anyway. I would be a liar if I were to say it didn’t give me a little bit of a thrill…and I’m not a liar. Well, maybe sometimes. Just a little. Like when I let my husband believe that I’m happy, that I’m fulfilled, that there’s no more to me. I let the town believe all there is to me is a great wife, an excellent homemaker and a good girl. Trust me. I am good. I’m very, very good. Just not so much in the way they think. No, not so much at all.

See, I’m a bad girl really. It’s not my fault. Or I don’t blame myself anyway, I don’t punish myself. I have needs, that’s all. My husband might be ready for his rocking chair and his pipe but my breasts are aching to be touched, to be kneaded, bitten, fucked. When a man bumps into me “accidentally” in the post office and I feel that tell-tale hard bulge in his crotch as our eyes meet and he mumbles “excuse me” I can feel myself soaking with want. I’m always bordering on embarrassed whenever that happens. I always think somebody must see, surely they can tell. That possibility only makes things worse. I’ve literally, had to fight myself to keep from running to the car and finger-fucking myself into oblivion. I, uh, don’t run, anyway.

The final straw came not too long ago when I left the gym after a particularly intense work out. My imagination, all on its own, had started to run wild while I was on the tread mill. Looking at myself with my hair sticking to my neck and the sweat running down and catching on my clavicle and then tipping over the brim and sliding between my breasts…I started thinking about a cock following that same path from the other direction. I started thinking about my legs being drawn up and another cock impaling me without a care or concern for my husband or my life and just taking what it wanted. I could feel my vulva becoming swollen with the image. I looked around and I saw all these men, big men, small men, cute boys and rugged rogues – even the ugly guys – all stealing glances here and there, like shadows at the corners of my eyes. I could swear they all knew what I was thinking! Embarrassed I stopped running and quickly got off the treadmill. In the women’s locker room I wasn’t much better off. I went into the sauna to escape and seeing all these gorgeous, sweating, taut female bodies almost made me moan audibly. By the time I made it out of the gym I thought I was about to spontaneously combust. I went into the passenger seat, tore off my sweat pants, put my arm behind my head and just went with it. When I was about ten seconds away from reaching the point of no return I heard a tap on my window. I almost jumped through the roof. It was a police officer.

He smiled down at me. I was consumed with more embarrassment than I thought I could possibly bear. He motioned for me to roll down the window. I wanted to die. When I had complied he leaned for it and almost whispered, “Now listen, miss, I could and probably should cite you for indecent exposure, public lewdness, pornography…public display of affection,” he laughed at his own joke, “I don’t know, a host of things. But I’m a nice guy see, so I’m going to offer you an out. You can take a flurry of really embarrassing tickets which, judging by that rock on your finger, might take some work explaining to your husband, or….you can take off your top, spread your legs as far as they can go, and keep going. See my car up there on the side of that on ramp? I’ll be >ahem< looking for people to speed. Make it good, okay?” What could I do? Honestly, I thought I would be far too embarrassed and ashamed. I never would have expected what happened next. The shame and humiliation only got me going that much more. If I thought I was hot before I was absolute wild fire now. The thought of that police officer watching me and jacking off made me lose complete control. I felt myself gushing around my hand as I shuddered to an explosion that seemed to last for half an hour and I heard a voice come out of me that I had never heard before. My god. After it was over, I dressed myself and drove by him and got his card. We have an appointment for next week.

It’s not enough. Frankly, I’m still in my prime. I’m a natural woman. I’m not complicated. Sometimes I just want to fuck. If that makes me bad, then so be it—I’m fucking wicked. My body rages, absolutely rages. If I have a drink at all I’m this close to becoming a shameless hussy. I’m just not meant to be a “kept” woman. That might be okay for some but it’s not okay for me. I long for a clandestine meeting with a stranger in a discreet hotel room. I want – need to be courted and chased and showered with gifts by a man who hasn’t forgotten how to treat a beautiful woman. I need somebody to come and take this MILF in heat by the hair and teach me a valuable lesson. He won’t be sorry. I can guarantee that I will make him feel like a man and he will know that he is getting fucked by a real woman. I need to be left spent and sweaty, down and dirty, shameful but unashamed. I need my mouth, my cunt, my ass to be filled to overflowing. I need cum on my breasts, my face, in my hair, running down the insides of my soft and shapely thighs. I need to be signed, sealed and delivered to ecstasy’s doorstep… and then I want to step inside. I need to be used and abused until I’ve forgotten my job, my home, my responsibilities, and my name. I want the only name I remember is the one I keep repeating over and over and over because he is giving me everything I could ever want…will ever need. I want that name to be yours. I want you. I need you now, right now, goddamnit. But the only way I can have you, is if you pick up the phone and call…