Age Play With Elli Mae: First-Time Anal That Ain’t First-Time
Age play is how I get Daddy to treat me like I still startle at a zipper. I am a grown country woman with a porch and a filthy streak, but I bat my lashes and talk like I have never had anything behind the denim except nerves. That is the game. Anal phone sex is where the game gets honest. I gasp like a beginner and grind back like a liar.
“Daddy, wait—” I said it into the phone with my fingers already slick and two knuckles teasing my ass like I had not done this a hundred times. Age play loves a shaky voice. I gave him one. I told him I was just a hick girl on her quilt, jeans shoved to my boots, pretending the idea of taking him there made me blush down to my belly. Phone sex does not show the way I was already pushing back onto my own hand.
“I ain’t never… I mean, I thought about it, but you gotta go slow, Daddy. I’m scared it’s gonna feel too good.”
He bought the scare. They always do when the drawl gets small. I walked him through spit, then one finger, then the filthy sound of a second, moaning like I might tap out. Anal phone sex is just theater if you do not get nasty with the details. I got nasty. I told him how tight I felt. I told him how I clenched on purpose. I did not tell him I had a plug in my nightstand that already knew my name.
Age play let me ask permission for things I was going to take anyway. “Can I keep goin’? It burns. It burns sweet.” I added more spit and fucked myself deeper while I kept the innocent act pinned to the line. First-time roleplay. Daddy kink. Ass play. Supporting heat stacked under the quilt. I described my hole opening around the idea of him and I sounded shocked at my own mouth.
When I put the toy against myself I whimpered like it was brand new. Then I sat on it in one slow drop and had to bite the pillow so I would not laugh. Grown woman. Soaked. Full. Still sayin’ “be gentle” while I rolled my hips like I was tryin’ to milk him through the speaker. Anal phone sex with a fake virgin is the best kind of mean, because he thinks he is teaching and I am already ruined.
I told him I could feel every inch in my belly. I told him I wanted it sloppy. I told him if he talked dirtier I might come just from the stretch. Phone sex filled the room with his groan and my fake-startled little “oh God, Daddy, it’s in, it’s all the way in,” while I bounced and got louder and stopped pretendin’ I wanted him to pull out.
I came on the toy with my face in the quilt, still half in the age play voice and half in the whore I actually am. I did not let him finish right away. I made him listen to me stay full, twitching, talking sweet and filthy in the same breath. “I can’t believe I let you… I want you to do it again. Don’t you dare stop callin’ me that.” Then I laughed, low, country, caught. “Alright. Maybe I ain’t as new as I sound. Maybe I just like you thinkin’ you popped somethin’ that was already wide open for it.”
That is the call I sell without sellin’. Age play for the head. Anal phone sex for the mess. If you want a Southern girl who will swear she has never taken it there and then soak the line proving otherwise, you know where I keep the porch light on.
Elli Mae
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