More from Traci_KNT

• CEI Phone Sex After Cheating

  October 8, 2026

  EXT. 636 · DAY SHIFT · PRIVATE

  CEI Phone Sex on the Day I Caught Him Cheating

  Traci · clipboard down, rules up

  CEI phone sex is what I scheduled the minute the cheating stopped being a theory.

  I am Traci. I run a shift for a living, so I notice when a man is late in a way that has nothing to do with traffic. His phone was face-up on the dresser. A girl’s name. A photo he should not have had. Cheating, neat as a calendar alert. I did not cry into a pillow. I locked the bedroom door, sat on the edge of the bed in a pale blue slip, and waited for him to come home and lie.

  He tried. I held the phone up and smiled the way I smile when a schedule breaks and I already know the fix. “You can keep cheating, or you can spend today doing exactly what I say. Clothes off. Hands where I can see them. You are going to masturbate, and you are going to eat it. All day.” His face went hot. His cock still got hard. Cheating had not made him loyal. It had made him easy to corner.

  First load was in the bedroom, before coffee. I sat with my knees together and told him to stroke slow. No porn. No her. Just my voice and the mess he had made of us. He pumped his fist and watched my mouth like I might forgive him. I did not. When he got close I said, “In your hand. Then on your tongue. CEI is the apology, and you do not get to waste it.” He came with a broken sound, thick stripes across his fingers, and I made him lick them clean while he looked at me. Swallow. Show me. Again.

  By late morning he was sore and still half hard. I had errands. That is when CEI phone sex took the shift. I sat in the car with the windows up and called him. Phone sex, but not the sweet girlfriend kind. I told him to get the lube, put me on speaker, and stroke until he was shaking. “You cheated. You can eat. Those are the only two facts that matter today.” He whimpered that he had already come. I laughed. “Then you will come smaller and nastier. I want to hear it.”

  CEI phone sex is intimate in a mean way. I could hear his fist. I could hear him get close and try to bargain. I did not bargain. I counted him down and made him describe the taste when he licked his palm. Salty. Bitter. His. He said he was sorry between swallows. I told him sorry was a word and cum was proof, so keep stroking. Phone sex let me run the house from a parking lot. Cheating had been his secret. This was mine, and it was on a timer.

  Noon, I came home and found him on the couch, cock flushed, a little pool already in his hand because he had been edging for me like a good ruined boyfriend. I took the phone away so he could not hide in a call. “Open.” He ate it while I watched, throat working, eyes wet. I kissed his forehead after, pretty and cruel, and told him the next one was before dinner. Cheating does not get a single dramatic scene in my house. It gets a schedule.

  Afternoon was slower. I made him kneel in the bathroom light, baby-blue towel under his knees, and jerk off while I leaned on the sink and talked about the girl on his phone. How she did not have to watch this. How I did, because I caught him, and catching him meant I owned the ending. He came weaker that time, panting, and still pushed his fingers into his mouth when I pointed. CEI until his stomach flipped. I rubbed his hair and called him sweet while he swallowed. The sweetness was not forgiveness. It was the girlfriend experience with the lock turned.

  Evening, I put him back on the phone even though I was in the next room. I wanted CEI phone sex in his ear while I listened through the door. My voice, low, telling him to stroke for the last load of the day and not to spill a drop on the sheets. He came groaning my name, not hers. I walked in while it was still on his tongue. “Show me.” He did. Empty mouth. Red face. Cock finally soft. I took the phone, ended the call with myself, and told him tomorrow we could talk about whether the cheating was over. Tonight the only meal he had earned was his own.

  I still use that day when a man wants to be managed. Phone sex is the clipboard. CEI phone sex is the rule written in the prettiest ink I own: stroke, catch it, eat it, say thank you. If you have ever needed someone calm to catch you cheating on your own pride, you already know how soft my voice can be while I make you swallow.

  ♡

  The rest of the shift is here:
  https://kinks-n-teasephonesex.com/traci_knt/

• Cocksucking: Traci’s Night of Cock Worship

  September 20, 2026

  traci // ext. 636 // after hours

  Cocksucking a Huge Dick

  Cocksucking was the only polite thing I could do when he pulled out a cock that thick.

  sloppy heavy worship

  I met him in a hotel bar that smelled like citrus and bad decisions. He had that quiet look men get when they already know they are packing something rude. Ten minutes of small talk later we were upstairs, and cocksucking stopped being a rumor in my mouth and turned into work I wanted.

  He dropped his pants and that thing hung there heavy, hot, already shiny at the tip. Huge. Vein-mapped. The kind of dick that makes your jaw calculate. Cock worship started before I even touched him. I stared. I told him I was going to ruin my lipstick for it. Then I got on my knees on the hotel carpet and put both hands around the base because one hand looked stupid.

  Cocksucking a cock that size is not cute. It is spit and patience and the wet sound of me failing on purpose so I can try again deeper. I licked a slow stripe from his balls to the head, then opened and took what I could. My lips stretched. My eyes watered. I hummed when the head punched the back of my throat and a thick string of spit fell onto my tits. He swore. I kept going. That is cock worship: treating a huge dick like it paid rent in my mouth.

  I pulled off just long enough to breathe and stroke him sloppy, spit-shiny, then dove back in. Cocksucking got nastier when I let him hold my hair and use my face. Not gentle. Not boyfriend-soft. He fucked my throat in short greedy strokes while I held his thighs and took it. Drool hit the floor. Mascara went south. I gagged, laughed, and put him back in because a mouth that empty felt wrong.

  “Don’t you dare stop. That throat was built for this.”

  When my jaw ached I worshipped lower. I sucked one ball into my mouth while I stroked that fat shaft, then the other, messy and devoted. Cock worship is the part where I look up with a ruined face and tell him how good he tastes, how heavy he feels on my tongue, how I want him to use my mouth until he cannot talk. He throbbed against my cheek. I painted my lips with the leak at his slit and went back to cocksucking like I had a shift to finish.

  He came the first time down my throat. I swallowed what I could and let the rest stripe my tongue so he could see it. Then I stayed there, licking him clean, because cock worship does not clock out at the first load. He hardened again while I was still tasting him. I took him slower the second time, deeper, wetter, the kind of cocksucking that sounds filthy even with the TV on mute.

  Later, alone in the hallway with my voice still rough, I got on a call. Phone sex is how I keep a night like that from ending. I told the man on the line exactly how that huge dick stretched my mouth, how cocksucking made my jaw shake, how cock worship left my chin shiny. Phone sex let me walk someone else through the same kneeling, the same gag, the same swallow, until he was panting like he had been in the room.

  I can still feel the weight of it. That is the whole story. A stranger. A heavy cock. My knees. Cocksucking until my voice changed. Cock worship until he emptied. Phone sex after, because some men only get the replay, and I tell it dirty enough that it counts.

  — Traci

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