All the better to bite you with, my dear

While sitting at the pool on a fine July 4th morning in the shade of my cabana (and basking in the day-after-you-got-fucked glow), I remembered that Man Bun told me the previous night that he’d be available again if I was interested. Dare I have him again two nights in a row? Yes, I dared. I texted his agent and asked if it would be possible to book Man Bun for 4 hours and pay the entire amount on my credit card. Typically, there is a 20% deposit to a credit card and the balance paid in cash to the gentleman caller at the time of the visit. My cash reserves were low and I had no ATM card with me. Within a few short minutes, the reply came back stating that this was possible and that Man Bun was indeed available. Booked! Oh, and is he okay with a sushi dinner? Yes, yes, he was. Keen! Honeytoes will once again get stuffed with Man Bun #peen.

I sat in the comfort of my cabana all day long thinking about the imminent perversion – and about my delicious sushi dinner. Each time I come to Las Vegas, I always make time for a meal at Osaka and my favorite sushi artist, Chef Kenji. Domo arigatou!

After a full 9 hours at the pool and some minor flirtation with one of the cabana boys (I see you, Daniel, you hot, bearded thing!), I left my cabana to retreat to my room for a little cooling off (108°F today in #Vegas) before the preparations were to begin. After a disco nap, the preparations were completed and there was some time to kill before going to the lobby. I watched Seinfeld. It is what I do. My phone chimed and it was his agent alerting me that Man Bun had parked his car and was on the way in – 15 minutes early! I bolted down to the lobby to see Man Bun leaning against a wall checking his phone. It was reminiscent of George Michael casually and seductively leaning against the jukebox in his video for “Faith” – a hotter than fuck image to me. He took my breath away – and later in the evening he’d do it literally.

First of all, HE was waiting for ME. Secondly, he looked incredibly sexy. Confident. He wore tight white (or maybe off-white?) distressed jeans, his red sneakers, and a khaki-colored sweater that was incredibly loosely knit. His perfect torso (abs, pecs, and those nipple rings) was on blatant display through the yarn that pretended to be a sweater. His black hair was slung over his right shoulder. Fuuuuuuuccckkkk. He saw me and smiled, walking over to kiss and hug me hello. Oh, that smile. THAT SMILE.

Let me kindly remind those of you who have been following my Plane Guy adventures that it was literally one year ago when I met and then fucked PG for the first time. Yep, it was July 4th. In Vegas. In the same hotel. At the exact same time of night. We even had drinks at the same bar…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I asked if he’d ever been to Osaka and he had not, but I assured him that it was fantastic. We grabbed an Uber and were there within 15 minutes. We took a seat at the sushi bar and checked out the menu. My goal there is always to have an order of the sweet shrimp (ama ebi) and I did so. Mmmmmm….deep-fried shrimp heads…

Yet again, Chef Kenji did not disappoint. The chef, Man Bun, and I had a great conversation about travel, Japan, politics, and even the July 4th (disgusting) tradition of the Nathan’s hot dog eating contest. (Ew, gross.) I must say that I was flattered that the chef remembered me from my multiple visits. He even remembered our conversation exactly one year ago about whether or not I should text back this random dude that I had just met on my flight to Vegas. Of course, that random dude was Plane Guy.

Man Bun and I discussed our menu options and he ordered several delights, some of which were salmon sashimi, bluefin tuna sashimi, butter salmon (not really salmon, but an ocean trout, I think), Chilean sea bass, yellowtail sashimi with jalapeño, miso soup, and a few other yummy things. He seemed impressed with the food and I was exited to show a Vegas resident something in his town that he didn’t already know about on his own. We finished with some dessert. He fed me the first bite of his cheesecake and I reciprocated with my green tea ice cream. It was vaguely reminiscent of “Lady and the Tramp,” but maybe more like “Ho and the Gigolo.” And yes, I paid for the meal…it’s how it goes when one hires a male companion.

I called for our Uber and we went out to the parking lot and saw some random (illegal?) fireworks going off around us. We saw several other fireworks displays on our drive back to the hotel. We looked at the moon through the moon roof of the car. It was lovely. Fireworks always make me happy, as if I could have been happier. Food, cats, and good peen – not necessarily in that order – always make me happy. As you may be aware, I love sparkly things. Fireworks are definitely sparkly!

When we arrived back at the hotel, we decided to grab a drink and let the food settle a bit. At his suggestion, we ended up at the same bar where Plane Guy and I had our first drink together the previous year. More good conversation. And…? Just like with Plane Guy, the bar started to close for the night, so I sucked down the rest of my margarita and we were on our way to Funkytown, walking the same steps as Plane Guy and I had done a year earlier.

As soon as we got into the room, Man Bun made himself at home and stripped down to his underwear. Holy shit nipples. I am not kidding, y’all. The man is a god. His body is simply unreal. I was slightly buzzed from sucking down my strong drink so quickly, so I plopped on the bed where he was lounging in his drawers and we talked some more. I know that the whole point of a male escort is usually sex, but I do enjoy talking with Man Bun. He had mentioned that he was trained in massage, so I asked for a little work on my shoulders and back. He obliged and sat on my butt and began working my back while I rested on my belly. He has strong hands and worked me over for 10 to 15 minutes, practically putting me into a coma. Man Bun dismounted and we talked some more.

Then we began kissing and things got drastic soon after that. He was above me. Hovering. As he looked into my eyes, he slapped my pussy. And again! Again! I needed more and I told him that. He slapped my pussy again. Since we had been together the night before, we were more animated and free. Fun fact/non sequitur: He was circumcised only two years ago. Onward.

Before the Magnum appeared again, there was some teasing. Come on…You know the game…we’ve all played it: just the tip. There is nothing quite so stimulating as hot flesh against hot flesh. It truly gets one’s juices flowing. It was all I could do not to pull him inside of me right then and there, but then that’s the whole point, eh? I restrained myself as he sheathed his fat peen with a Magnum (again, thank you baby Jeebus) before finally plunging into my aching, desperate pink bits.

Our congress was more…what’s the word…I don’t know…It seemed far more intense (not really the word I think I want here…) than the previous night. We grinded (ground? grounded? Whatever…you know what I mean.) against one another. We kissed. He bit my lip. I told him to bite it harder. That’s when I saw that gleam in his eyes.

As he was thrusting into me, he slapped my face. “Harder!” I hissed. I am becoming a fan of that and I am not sure why. It seems to me that each sexual encounter I have gets a little more extreme. Am I bored with “regular” sex? I don’t know. We all love a little of the in-out, but I find myself craving more. I need my limits to be pushed. I am starting to wonder whether I even have limits any more? Whoops…got a little distracted there. Sorry ’bout that. Onward.

Man Bun then reached down and firmly placed his hand around my throat, putting his full weight on that hand as he continued fucking me. Edge play is not for everyone. I get that. When done with experience and care, however, this kind of added dimension to the sexual buffet is perfection. It was obvious that this was not his first time choking a girl. As the seconds ticked by, my breath was scarce. My eyes watered. I tried to resist – to fight him off of me, but my efforts only left me weak. For me, when I do something extreme during sex play, in the back of my head is always the thought that this could kill me and I find that quite stimulating. I must be far, far more twisted than I ever realized.

I can’t say for certain just how long he restricted my breathing, but the first gulp of air after he removed his hand was the sweetest breath. Bliss. I wanted more. He lowered his head to mine and we kissed. It was rough and still tender…but also animal-like. Man Bun bit my lip. Hard. Again? Bliss. My chest aches from where his hand was resting as he choked me, although I don’t see a bruise.

He started to kiss my neck (the sure way to win me over – not that he hadn’t already done so) and he gently bit me. More kissing. He bit me again. From the depths of my depravity, I commanded him: “Bite me harder. Mark me.” He obliged. I think I may have used the term “sweet pain” before in referring to getting a piercing…or maybe referring to anal DP…or maybe just in my imagination, but I have to use it again here. His teeth clenched into my skin and it stung so sweetly, so perfectly. Did he just growl? Fuck…maybe it was me! He was latched onto me like a pit bull. Man Bun had transformed from his sweet, soulful self to the very essence of sex in that moment.

Now, this next part I didn’t think I should post. I’m vacillating on my decision to post it as I am typing this, but I’m all about sharing my life as a slut, so I’ll just do it. Yes, it is risky. Stupid, even…but it was mutually consensual, so #STFU and keep reading. At one point, Man Bun was fiddling with the condom and we made eye contact. I growled, “Fuck it. Take it off.” The condom was unceremoniously tossed aside and then shit got real.

I never had sex without a condom until about 25 years into my slutdom. I just didn’t do it. On rare occasion I do now do this. I know more than anyone the risks of doing so, so spare me the lecture and judgement. I used to do AIDS research, people. I’m a scientist. I get it. Note that I get tested regularly for all those nasties and I have always come up clean. To be honest, other than Plane Guy (only occasionally) and Man Bun, the only other non-condom dude was a steady, monogamous (I know, WTF, Honeytoes?) boyfriend I had back in 2003-2005. I guess that’s just three guys. Okay…not as bad as I thought. We had actually discussed sex without condoms.  I mentioned that I regularly donate blood (and your blood has to be pristine for that) and that I also get tested regularly, so I suppose he was comfortable with that. He also gets tested regularly. I mean, the dude is a gigolo, so it just makes sense. Anyhoo…

I find that when fucking with a condom, the natural lubrication seems not to be as profuse. I guess maybe it has to do with the friction? Or maybe the lack of the male’s precum to add to the woman’s natural lube? Hmmm…my geeky brain is wondering whether I could get an R01 grant to study this. Regardless, the moment his naked cock touched my pink bits, the stakes were raised. Flesh against flesh and maybe the taboo nature of the interaction was almost too much to comprehend. It was remarkable and so very wet. By this point, we were drenched in sweat.

I knew I would end up with a visual memento of my trip to Vegas. Today, your #proudslut is sporting TWO. I have his bite marks on my neck. I made sure to wear my hair up so that it is on display. It aches mildly and it pleases me greatly each time I feel that twinge. The other memento surprised me as I was talking on the phone this morning with a fellow ho at heart. I was chatting while looking into the mirror before me and that is when I noticed the bruise on my top lip! “My lip is bruised!” I squealed. Nice work, Man Bun. Lest ye think I am not speaking the truth, see below for evidence. So. Fucking. Hot.

Wait just a fucking second. I just noticed that you can see Man Bun’s finger marks on my neck! Holy. Fucking. Fuckballs. I think I just came again. Three visual mementos from Man Bun…sweet, screaming Christ.


I already know for sure that I am going to be here in Vegas over Thanksgiving and possibly again in October. I fully anticipate epic #fuckery with Man Bun unless another gigolo catches my eye. Maybe I should start a Go Fund Me page to support my carnal needs for gigolos…

I’m already thinking about the next July 4th and what sexual deviance might occur…

…and always remember: Ho is life, y’all!

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife



2 thoughts on “All the better to bite you with, my dear”

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