…pation!
After my July 4th sexual reawakening by Plane Guy (PG), my thoughts were absolutely frantic. The only thing I thought of was him and the next time I might see him. We exchanged a few texts while he was still in Vegas and I was back home trying to work. (I work from home doing a job that most would find dull. I, however, love it quite a lot for many reasons, not the least of which is that it affords me the opportunity to be very flexible with my schedule.) I say “trying to work” here because it seems that every thought I had had something to do with HIM.
I tend to be obsessive. I mean, I’m not diagnosed with OCD, but I must be somewhere on that spectrum. That obsessive nature of mine makes me very good at my job, but it also means that once I get a thought in my head, I must act on it. My brain won’t rest and I am consumed with thoughts of, in this case, sex with PG.
So anyhoozles…the Monday after I got home from Vegas, I got a text from PG in the afternoon. His beautiful, naked body was laid out there for me to behold and his hand was wrapped firmly around his cock. He’s a lefty. I replied, “Oh fuck” because what the hell else could I say? Texts were exchanged in which he made it very clear that he wanted to see me and my big ass again. (See = fuck. Obvi.) I was happy for the photo since I was going to meet up with some of my sorority sisters the following Sunday. They’re all married with spawn…and then there’s me: 46 years old, single, screamingly red hair, and randomly fucking whichever penis I choose…and happy to share photos of said penises. Peni? My sorority sisters were not disappointed to hear that I’m still a ho. Proudly a ho. Yes, I’ll put some college antics in here eventually.
Without going into all of the minutia of the texts between me and PG (though we will in the future for a few things), over the next few weeks, there were a few times (2 or 3? I think 3.) when PG said he’d come see me. He did not. Balls. Not only did he not come see me the few times we had discussed, but he also didn’t let me know that he wasn’t coming. Fucking balls. I was disappointed. No, I was PISSED – and horny. A bad combination. (I think I joined match.com around that time in an effort to expand my penile options.) I figured that he just needed some dirty-talk texts so that he could rub a quick one out. I get that, but DAMN. Why ya gotta tease a girl like that?!
PG has always been enamored of my skills since the first time we got together, so I had to believe he wanted to see me again. “I love fucking you.” “You fuck incredible and your head game is amazing. And I could really get into worshiping your ass.” “So many things I want to do with you.” “The thought of fucking you makes me rock hard.”
So here we are at August 27th and we had only texted one another a few times in the last few weeks. An old fuckbuddy (broken waterbed Hockey Boy) asked me over to his cabin for dinner and then we were going to beat his submissive. (Hold up, people…It is a consensual BDSM thing. Calm your giblets. That’s a whole other story, though…stay tuned.) PG and I were texting during the day. He asked me when was the last time I had been fucked and it had been about 4 weeks earlier with the dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks hockey boy and said that it was disappointing. Before I knew it, PG was asking me to come see him that night. Since I already had plans, it would have to be a late-night rendezvous.
He texted me his address and said he’d text me by 6:00 to confirm. (Of course as soon as I had his address, I Googled it so that I could see his house. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t walking pantyless into his neighbor’s house, after all. That might have been awkward.) At around 4:00, however, he texted me saying that we’d have to reschedule because he’d be home really late and he had to work early the next morning. SONOFABITCHISWEARIWILLFUCKINGKILLYOU. My dinner and BDSM evening had also been canceled. I was striking out every which way. “Can’t a ho get some dick?!” I texted and I asked for a picture of him for masturbatory fodder. He obliged and the photo was perfection. I texted, “You should always be naked. Always. That cock belongs in my mouth.” He asked me how badly I wanted it and I said that I was willing to drive to him at midnight for a booty call. I may have added, “It makes my cunt ache.”
I guess that did the trick. He said I should be at his place at 11:00 and that I should not wear panties. I’d have to leave my house around 9:30 and so I began the preparations for the evening’s festivities. Showering, shaving my legs, doing my hair and makeup…all that stuff. At 9:12, he texted me as I sat nervously on my couch watching Forensic Files to pass the time. “You leave yet?” My heart sank. YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!! That asshat was canceling on me…again! “No” was my response, expecting the cancellation, trying not to barf. He texted back, “Ok. You can.” AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! It was going to happen!!!
He instructed me to park behind his work van. “Come in, find me, and start sucking. Lock door behind you.” I was so excited on the drive there that I almost couldn’t breathe. I was practically trembling. My body was working overtime – juices flowing and what not – and I don’t remember being so excited to fuck a guy since…well, since the last time I fucked PG in Vegas.
Finally, I arrived. I did as PG asked. I opened his front door, locked it behind me, walked up the stairs, and turned left to where I figured the bedroom was. (Kitchen in front of me, living room to the right – he must be to the left!) Within 30 seconds of me entering his home, I found him lying on his bed and started to suck his cock like it was the last time I’d ever do it. (Honeytoes’ extra tip: Always fuck and suck like it is the last time. It might not be the last time, but you should act like it is. After all, one day it will be the last time. It always works for me. You’re welcome.)
His magnificent cock felt as if it had been made specifically for my mouth – for all of my holes, frankly. Yes, all of them. There’s no judgement here, y’all. The details of our second time together are not entirely clear to me, but I remember seeing candles burning in his living room. His house was immaculately clean. I remember being so aroused that my entire body was shaking. I was shivering like I was going through detox. I remember holding onto the headboard as he slowly and deeply slid in and out of me. Each of my holes received proper attention, orally and peenally.
When I met him on the plane in July, he was bald and clean-shaven. This time, he had let his hair grow a bit and his face was scruffy. I’d been following him on Instagram, liking every blessed thing he posted, so his scruff was not a surprise to me. He did the same with me. He even liked my cat pictures. Never had I been a fan of facial hair. Until now, that is.
We talked afterward, though I cannot for the life of me remember what we said. It was a blur. I was high on PG. He walked me to the door and gave me a kiss and a strong hug. He said, “Be careful driving. Text me as soon as you get home. Please.” He always says that now.
I almost tripped walking to my car because I am a klutz, but I managed to get to my car unscathed. The moment I got home, I texted him:
Hmmmm…and when would I see PG again…?
…and always remember: Ho is life, y’all!
Sluttily yours,
Honeytoes
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife
Notes From A Slut 