Penny’s Thoughts

Hi, I'm Penny for YourDesires... Call me @ 360.412.8211 (ask for Penny) or E-Mail me @ ""
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Age: 26
Cup Size: 34a.24.34
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Likes: Roleplay and playing dress-up, Dom/submissive (I switch if you ask nicely), body worship, sensory deprivation, girl-on-girl and threesomes, spanking and punishment, wet and sloppy oral, and a good solid length of rope.
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Penny’s Thoughts

Listen to how excited you are! How many days has it been since you called?
Three? Four? Eight?
No wonder you’re so eager, I can practically hear that tension building in
your balls through the phone line.
I’ll bet you were already unzipping, weren’t you? And what if I told you
that you had to keep your pants on?
That I expect to hear you strain as I whisper all the filthy, luscious
things I could do with this phone sex tongue?
Would you tense to hear my proper mouth moan? Feel that zipper bulge and
bite so tight while fingers itched to disobey.
But you know that click bites harder, that hang-up when you’re naughty
worse that this burning build-up now.
“Stroke” your fingers plead as my groans grow deeper, “she’ll never know!”
But breath betrays you, bad boy, and click! Bereft.
But you dial again, don’t you? To hear that little lilt that tells how
taut I am already.
Tricky fingers creep again, pushing my patience, but when I hear you press
and gasp again your ears empty. Aching, aware of that frustrating
fullness, every second earning agony.
“Another day?” my husky voice heats you again and you beg no no no,
please! You can hardly hold a second longer, heaving, begging, “Anything!”
Each coil of that cord, each kink, winds you tighter. A loop for anything,
anything to relieve to release. Anything!
So let’s see if there’s anything left of you shall we, once I take to free
you from this waiting weight?
I’ve taken away all of your toys. They’re all locked up tight, away from
your eager fingers. Let’s see how creative you can be for me…
I see you rifling through the fridge, picking up squash and condiment
bottles. You stand there with the door open, the wafts of cold air
hardening your nipples as you weight in your hands the zucchini squash,
the condiment bottles, the salami.
You unconsciously wrap cords around your wrists and fingers. You fidget.
You lean a little harder against me, parts of you growing harder still. I
brush my fingers against you once, in a crowded room, and you can barely
stifle your moan. You are instantly erect. There is nothing you can do
about it, not with all these eyes around you. Just a single stroke,
hidden, and I nearly have you sobbing.
Three days without your playthings to fill you, tease you, and you’re a
ball of hot tension. I catch you rubbing against table edges, the backs of
couches and chairs. Wet spots on every pair of pants you own. A soggy bed
each morning, your nightly lapse forgiven knowing your fingers will itch
throughout the day and repay nocturnal slights with agony.
So when you finally come begging and sobbing, on hands and knees. So hard
that you hurt. So hard that to walk into my presence is penance enough. I
pity you, poor empty thing, and slide my fingers into your sodden shorts
to empty you even more.
Sex has such a distinct smell, doesn’t it?
You know the instant you walk into the room exactly what has happened
there. A tell-tale stain in the air, a hot little scent burns right
through the membrane of your skin and stirs your inner animal awake.
Even under the dabs of perfume it lingers, a cloud of every filthy act
clinging like a film. Heads turn, nostrils flare, and I know if anyone
were to lean in close they’d smell the warm glow of the freshly-fucked
glistening on my skin. Pupils dilate with the first inhale. The second
prickles hairs at the nape of the neck, little goosebumps of the pleasure
to come. My body’s scent spills all my secrets and suddenly I’m wet,
again. My pulse racing only spreads the smell of my need, pulling the
crowd in closer to the source of that sex. The flesh already knows what
the brain’s still slow to sense: that somewhere in this room there’s a
bitch in heat.
“What a precious little doll,” the grown-ups would often say
And even when I grew a little, a doll I always seemed to stay.
Hands could pick me up or pull me, wrap around my little waist
But always so, so very careful. Lips would touch but rarely taste.
And even dolls get hungry for a little rougher touch
So when I’d pin those big boys under me, they didn’t squirm too much.
They would laugh and feign a struggle, think my little grin so cute
When I whispered they were mine now, my control absolute.
I couldn’t really hold him..could I? Pressing down with just my thumbs…
How Dolly shivers with delight. Three words, “I own you.”
And he comes.
It’s amazing what you can get away with in a long dress.
Little loops and knots pinching so tight, a web of rope binding black lace
and blushing skin. A maze of woven red wrapping beneath the innocent sweep
of a skirt.
All it would take is a hand brushed across my hip, a careless press in a
crowded room, to feel my dirty secret. A little gasp of shock, perhaps,
when they feel that little knot nestled at the base of my neck. Would
those fingers tug to take a peek, a glimpse at naughty lace under that
sweet floral pink? “How tight!” they’d think, feeling how red and raw the
skin burned under rope’s friction. A little twist and the fabric pulls
close, caressing a contour of squeezed-tight skin.
Just a little tug and I’m wet. A shift of my hips and I’m pressed tight
through my panties. I can rub against the rope and who’s to know? There’s
just the thin veil of my dress between the world and my throbbing pussy,
bound so deliciously tight.
“Pay no attention to the cunt behind the curtain,” says the sweet pink
dress as my cum drips down my leg. A little shuddering sigh and the color
in my cheeks is all you can see of my dirty little secret.
I can’t remember how you got me into this state. How long have I been on
this phone line? My body feels frozen, with a voice warm and low in my ear
whispering, “Penny…Penny…Penny…” My arms are so heavy and I’m dizzy
with my name in your mouth. It rushes through my paralyzed body, making my
skin bead with sweat and soaking through my panties and skirt. My fingers
twitch with the need to bury them in my pussy, to release this building
fire that leaks out of my onto the fabric of my clothes.

“Penny…Penny…” you rumble, vibrating through all my nerves down to the
hot bed of pleasure you’ve been building. How long has this gone on?
“Don’t move until I say, Penny. Be a good, good, good girl.” I want to be
good for you but it’s hard, so hard. My brain is a fog, with hot little
sparks of “good, good” sending shivers through me. I want to be good, let
me show you how good I can be. Through parted lips I pant, “Please…” so
soft I think you haven’t heard. You chuckle.

“Oh Penny, Penny, Penny,” and I shiver again, “can you not wait? Does my
little phone sex slut want release?” I whimper, at your mercy. You have
ordered me not to move and in obeying I have brought myself to the brink.
“Answer me,” you say and I free my tongue to gasp YES! My eyes are so
heavy, my mouth wet and panting and begging you yes yes YES YES! Let me
say my word of release, let me say your name and come.

How long will you make me wait?
I never get tired of “please:” the wet pop of lips separating, the little
whine through gritted teeth, the hiss becoming a gasp becoming a
shuddering groan. Sweet mouths were made to plead, wet with a quick tongue
and already opening to beg again, “Please please please.”

An order, “Please me!” that sends eager hands rushing to obey. Please me
with that warm mouth, that hot tongue. Purr that “please” into “pleasure”
and hum it against my pussy so I can feel your lips part as you ask so
nicely to enter me.

I love a cry for mercy that becomes a cry for more, harder, deeper! Let me
fuck some manners into you and with every thrust force my favorite word
from your moaning lips, “Please!”
First Day Shivers!

I could hardly sleep last night. My body was so tense with nerves and
excitement and I could hear the shuffle of my neighbors’ feet above me.
I should’ve been good and waited… I knew I should’ve saved myself for
sex on the phone, but I could hardly keep my fingers from creeping under
the covers and exploring on their own. Just the thought of a voice moaning
in my ear, saying my name, filling my head up with dirty talk, had me so
knotted up that I couldn’t stand it! I know I heard my upstairs neighbors
were still awake and I tried my best to be quiet. Why don’t you call and
help me work out my first day frustration?