I need you.

I’m pretty sure that this post will make many (all?) of you uncomfortable and that you might never talk to me or read my blog ever again. If so, that’s a shame, but I’m already over it. If not, then let me know…we should totes hang out in real life!! You must be as sick a fuck as I am. Now, to the business at hand…

On July 17th, I arrived a little early at Plane Guy’s house. I let myself in, locking the door behind me and then walking to his bedroom, halfway hoping he’d jump out from the darkness and take me by surprise. I got to his bedroom door and walked in. “There’s my cunt,” he said with a sincere, sexy smile, as he was messing around with his phone on the bed. All 6’6″ of him stood up and I dropped my bags on the floor. He stood in front of me and lifted my dress off over my head. He pulled me close to him in an embrace, though not exactly a hug. My hands were still up from the dress removal and I pressed my palms against his chest, my arms bent. PG held me closely to his naked chest as he unhooked and removed my bright pink bra. I breathed his scent into the deepest part of my lungs, wanting to keep it with me, inside of me. He was looking at my ass from above as he grabbed it and let it jiggle a few times, still in his embrace. He got in a few light slaps, too. Things were already quite intense. He kissed my lips lightly, oddly conscious of my lipstick. We stood like that for at least a full minute and then I dropped to my knees when his hand gently moved to my shoulders to guide me downward.

I looked up at him and he slapped my face a few times. The force surprised me and my eyes teared up immediately. (He’d actually slapped the blush off of my cheeks, as I noted afterwards.) I tried to reach for his cock, but he refused to let me use my hands, so I rested them on my upper thighs.

PG moved close to my face and slapped my face with his cock, and I knew my red lipstick would not survive this encounter. I put out my tongue and let his cock slap against my tongue and mouth. He dragged his cock across my lips and I could tell that my red lips were no longer perfectly filled in, but instead streaked across my cheeks.  He put his hands on the back of my head and he face fucked me. Hard. He wanted me to gag and I certainly did. He commanded, “Look at me” as his cock slid into and out of my mouth. My eyes were watering already from the face slaps, and I knew my perfectly applied, whorish eye makeup would soon be dripping down my cheeks, mixed with my tears. There went my beautiful winged eyeliner! No, Kat Von D, your Tattoo Liner is not waterproof – or at least it isn’t tearproof. He did heed my warning not to touch my left ear, since I had just gotten it pierced again in the last week or so. (left rook, if you care)

I sucked on that cock like it was my lifeline – my saliva, tears, and makeup everywhere. I did it for my Daddy. Please believe that had anyone else done this to me, I’d have…well, I’d not have been there in the first place, but I would definitely have left. Even though I knew how brutal he was, I still felt safe. I trust him beyond words. Because I felt so cared for, I really let the tears flow and he fed off of that. I cannot explain how I knew that I was safe, but I knew. We’ve been fucking for a year now and it is something that I just know in my innards.

When had had gotten his fill, he pushed me to the floor quite roughly, calling me a whore…asking if I liked being used hard like a whore. I had never seen him in such a state before and I rather liked it. I’m all about pushing my limits with PG and he with me. This is something that we made clear from the very beginning. Below is an excerpt of a text exchange from 18-July-2016, just two weeks after we met. (Little did I know just how much he’d end up worshiping my ass over the coming year…)


I was on my stomach and PG was on top of me and the dirty talk coming out of his mouth was like I’d never experienced with him before. His hand wrapped around my throat and his mouth was against my left ear, whispering exquisite dirty talk to me as he grinded against me. He roughly flipped me over onto my back and he pulled my g-string up tightly (like a frontal wedgie) so that it smushed my two piercings. I could scarcely squeak out a request for him to be careful with my genital piercings. He laughed and took off the g-string and he gave me a few more slaps to my face. PG looked at the g-string thoughtfully as I sobbed softly on the floor and then he placed it between my lips like a gag, pinning each side to the floor with his hands so that I was unable to move my head.

He looked down at me and said that he was going to fuck me like a whore and tear my pussy with his cock. “Open your legs, Princess.” I complied and he stuffed me with his cock. I was so turned on at this point (didn’t exactly realize exactly how much). He slid into me so deeply that we both gasped. *sigh* “Is that what you wanted, whore?” Um, hello? YES! I just now realized that this was the first time we had sex on the floor. (Honeytoes’ extra tip: Always carpet your bedroom floor because one never knows when one will fuck or be fucked on the floor. Few enjoy the sensation of one’s hip bones being ground into hardwood floors, no matter how lovely said floors might look.)

I know it sounds cliché, but his cock seems like it was made to be inside of me. We’ve both said this to one another on many occasions. We kept eye contact even as he slapped me a few more times. He unexpectedly came on me from my abdomen to my thighs with a load that any porn star would envy, but his still-erect cock (praise baby Jeebus) was not done with me yet. Looking at his face, it was clear to me that PG was in bliss. So was I. It was #otherworldly.

“Where are the condoms?” he questioned. I crawled over to my bag on the floor and handed him a Magnum. He told me to get onto my back on the bed, even as I was still crying and sniffling. With his Majestic Peen™ now sheathed in latex, he asked if I liked being hit. I sniffled as I tried to get the words out to let him know that I kind of liked it, that I wanted to like it…but mostly just said yes to him because I fear losing him and that I let him use me so hard because I want him to be happy. I said I’m afraid that he’d find someone else or that he’d get tired of “just” fucking me and that is when he said he could “never find another whore” like me and “I need you.” O, ye naysayers (me included!) who think that your faithful slut Honeytoes is the one desperately in need of PG, let it be known that HE. NEEDS. ME. The desperation is mutual. And did I mention that he also said to me: “As long as I’m inside you, I’m happy.” These are the things I’ll focus on the next time my brain starts taking me to the unhappy place when PG doesn’t reply to a text within 15 seconds.

He was deep inside of me when he asked me about Man Bun. Looking into my eyes, he asked, “Did he have a long cock?” I said that it was thick, but not long like him. He smiled, loving hearing about another man fucking his precious Princess. “Did he cum inside of you?” “Yes, on the second night,” I said…to which he responded, “I’ll bet his cum is still inside of your pussy.” The look on his face made it clear that even though Man Bun’s liquid essence was obviously not still inside of me, he loved knowing that it had been. PG thrust himself even deeper into me. I cannot accurately explain the look of sheer glee on his face, but trust me, he was extremely turned on by this thought. Seeing how turned on he was further fueled me. His lust for me is my lifeblood.

I know that I say every encounter with PG is more intense than the last, but it is true. He flipped me over onto my stomach and I knew my cue. I moved to the edge of the bed and presented my ass to him, high in the air – exactly as he likes. As he entered me, he hit that deep, beautiful spot and I bounced against him to a chorus of expertly crafted dirty talk about my ass, to which I responded. PG pushed me down on my stomach and as we gyrated against one another, he said, “Cum for me, Princess.” Fuck. I did and then he grunted that he was cumming, too. Note that I do not typically cum during vaginal penetration, not even with Plane Guy, but tonight was next-level fucking. I can cum from anal quite easily, contrary to most women.

As he was cumming, my pussy was twitching uncontrollably around his cock – a rather long orgasm on my part. He was overwhelmed and said that he loved that my pussy twitched like that for him. I’m not sure if he’d ever noticed it before, though.

After the encounter, he said, “I really like hurting you, but we’re done with this now. I wanted to see how much you could take.” He was referring to the extreme stuff we’ve done the last few times…the #rapey stuff. PG said that he wants to move on, but to what? I have no idea, but sign me up!

We also talked a bit about Man Bun afterward and I showed PG his photo. I mentioned that I’m going to the gym now and working out with a trainer and he was excited…since I’ll presumably become even hotter than I am now. I said that I was glad we didn’t get together last week (passive aggressive? me??) because I was too sore from working out to have been useful to him anyway. I swear that the look on his face was that of confusion…like, “Were we supposed to get together last week?” Bless his heart.

My hair was in a bun today because when I showered after my early training session at the gym (5:00 a.m., kids…I’m not fucking around here.), I could not have known that PG would want to see me later in the day. As I was getting dressed afterwards, I mentioned to PG that I didn’t do my hair because I thought it made sense to have my hair in a tight bun so that there would be less of a chance of one of my long, curly, pink-red hairs ending up on the floor or a pillow for his “other half” to stumble across. There’d be no talking himself out of that mess. He seemed impressed with my efforts to keep me his dirty little secret. I do wonder, though, why he’s totally okay with me coming to his house…my car is parked in front of his house where it is there for anyone to see. Hell, his neighbors have said hello to me a few times as I was leaving his house, my hair and makeup looking like I had been dragged through the dirt. Does he want to get caught? Does he just not give a snot if his neighbors see me? I don’t know and likely never will.

He also commented on my hair color. It hasn’t changed since February, but he was particularly struck with it this night, saying that he really loves the pinkish-red color. I mentioned I was thinking of changing it and he said, “no”. I (oddly) found it pleasing that he’d even give a crap about my hair. He does.

Also, for the first time since the first time we had sex, there was no anal. <insert confused face here> It was weird. All the crazy things he texted to me about violating my ass over the last week? Nope, didn’t happen. None of it. Remember, y’all, I’m a fan of backdoor violations, but last night was just perfect even without it.

Finally, lest ye think that all this crying, slapping, and verbal nastiness equated to non-consensual sex (i.e., rape), please know that it was mutually consensual. I still had my #safeword, guys, and I always have it, even when we say that there’s no safe word. Edge play necessitates one. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Plane Guy will always honor that.

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

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

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