Flashback: 23-May-2017 – Love and other bruises

Yes, the title is a reference to Air Supply. Shut up.

My Plane Guy was in rare form tonight. Rare. And yes, I said MY Plane Guy.

He asked me to show up looking like a total whore, per usual. I obliged by wearing glitter on my eyelids (because a ho loves glitter more than anyone!), the previously requested (and well received) black lipstick (after finding out his favorite color is black), a black lacy thong, and a black lacy bra with cups that exposed my nips. The bra was sort of a shelf bra, not the kind with keyhole nipple cutouts. The nips were on full display, which I think that the guy at the gas station noticed. Other than Plane Guy, the other thing I like about New Jersey is that every gas station pumps the gas for you!

I arrived at his house and walked up the dark stairs to his bedroom where he was lying on the bed. “Did someone order a whore?” I asked with a bad British accent. No, I’m not sure why I did the accent…it just came out of my mouth that way. With a big smile, he said, “I did” and he got up, pulled down his shorts to reveal his massive and delightfully engorged peen (he loves those camouflage shorts!), stepped over to me, and lifted off my dress. PG took a good look at my offering and was immediately fixated on my boobs. Remember that he is an aficionado of my fat ass. That is his jam fo’ sho, but tonight he seemed quite taken with the bra/boobs situation. I was surprised at his reaction since I had worn that bra once before.

I started our festivities by kneeling before him, worshiping the Majestic Peen™ and then properly servicing his ass. Fuck. I’m a salad tosser now, I guess. Then I got on the bed and he investigated my new vertical clitoral hood piercing. He was mesmerized. It is sparkly and pretty, after all. I asked him to take it a little easy so the piercing wouldn’t be harmed and the slow, deep dicking that I received was like no other. He kept asking if I was okay, concerned that he’d harm the piercing. I was more than okay.

And then it started.

“Daddy loves his princess.” “Daddy loves you.” “I love you.” OMG. Enough. I told him, “Stop fucking with me.” He didn’t miss a beat and replied (quite sincerely), “I’m not. I love you.” For reasons that I cannot be entirely sure of (or am denying), I said it back. Several times. Dammit to hell. Oh, yeah…he also kissed me…softly. It was surprising since we rarely kiss, but it was hot as hell, too!

Also during this more gentle encounter, he was all up in my boobs. Seriously. He could not get enough of the things! He played with them like a cat with a fresh catnip toy. He was intoxicated with me and VERY complimentary, which I absolutely enjoyed. While he was on top, I asked him if he liked my piercing and he said that he loved it. He examined it closely, almost lovingly. He said it “accentuates your exquisite sexuality.” Exquisite. This blue collar guy is not a writer, but he knows how to use his words to make this writer go all loopy.

Then I hopped on Pop (remember that Dr. Seuss book “Hop on Pop”??) and that is when he looked me right in my eyes and demanded, “Pin me down. Pin down your Daddy. Do it.” I mean. DAMN. That is my jam!!! As I was up there riding my perfect Daddy, he kept saying my name. Saying. My. Name. This is a new development. Usually I’m “Princess” or “Babe”. Hearing him almost pleading with me, saying my name over and over again…UGH. It was possibly the hottest thing ever. I never call him by his name – just “Daddy”…I try to keep him as Plane Guy, not Billy Joe Jim Bob (not his real name). (Honeytoes’ extra tip: Unless you’re only fucking one person [and who the shit would do that?!?!], never use his/her real name when during the actual fucking. You’ll just fuck up and call out the wrong name. Yes, you will. I promise you. I, myself, have and that is why I no longer use names during coital activities. It makes you looks stupid.)

He broke free (yeah, like it was a struggle, but I did my best to keep him immobile) and put his hands all over my ass and he let his love for my bubble butt be known. There was high praise indeed for my hiney as I proudly bounced and clapped my booty like the ho that I am. I cannot say this enough, people, but praise your partner about his/her body. It means so much and will likely lead to very good things.

He kept asking me what I wanted and how I wanted it. He has always done that, but tonight it was different somehow. He was so…not sure what word to use…deliberate? He absolutely cares about me and I do believe that he loves me, but not the “I’m gonna wife you up and impregnate you with my spawn” kind of love – thank the baby Jesus. THAT kind of love I think I can deal with. I get to have the mind-blowing sex and someone who has love for me with no expectations of anything going further (like that brunch and all that mundane stuff). I lucked out in meeting him.

I feel like his reaction to me as more than just a big butt there for his pleasure is part of us getting to know one another more intimately. Each time we are together, things seem more intense.

I also asked him why he keeps asking me to promise him that I’ll never stop fucking him. He brushed it off with a non-answer. It was so much of a non-answer that I don’t even remember specifically what he said. So it seems clear that he is NOT trying to wife me up…he just wants to make sure that I have no intention of not seeing him anymore. Let it be noted for the official record that I have no intention whatsoever of stopping seeing him. Ever.

A few non sequiturs: I showed him a video that I posted on Instagram of a robin taking a bath in the birdbath on my deck. He was so excited – like a little kid. He loves animals and he was all smiles, watching the clip three times. He excitedly told me that there is a “perfect” bird nest under his deck and that he checks it every day.

I also learned that I apparently have a very pretty set of pink bits. Guys always say that (especially Plane Guy – all the time), but it is what one does, ya know? I have seen at least 600 sets of girl parts in my lifetime (remember that I was involved in the adult entertainment industry…and still am to a smaller extent) and there are some NASTY snatches out there. Hideous, roast-beef-looking, curtainous (is that a word? of or like curtains) pussy lips. Nightmare-inducing, even! In my quest to find out whether my bits actually are pretty, I sent a pic to a few girlfriends. The consensus is that my bits are pretty and that my piercings are most excellent and shiny and lovely and that they compliment my bits perfectly.

Hmmm…Let’s see how many of you read all the way to the end of my posts…I am going to see Master. Flights are booked. It is happening. Stay tuned, kids!

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

Sluttily yours,
Honeytoes
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

5 thoughts on “Flashback: 23-May-2017 – Love and other bruises”

  1. So wish you were playing with Man Bun and not that asshole who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about your safety. Very upsetting.

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  2. Man Bun was supposed to be next, but plans changed. Man Bun is already booked for the end of August, though, so that is still happening. 🙂

    I understand that some are worried about my safety, but y’all haven’t been talking with him. I have. We have discussed and agreed to our hard limits (yes, both players have them). I engage in risky behaviors…meeting random dudes from dating sites, bungy jumping (5 times!), edge play, aggressive driving, various cosmetic procedures that could leave me dead. It is what I do. No one says “boo” about those things, but when BDSM is brought into the picture, everyone freaks out. It is as safe as, if not more so, any of the other things I do in my life.

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    1. It is not because of the BDSM. It is because you have put all of your trust and faith in a complete stranger. It doesn’t matter how much you have been talking to him. Talk is cheap. I could go on the internet and convince some guy that I am a supermodel and I need him to send me $10,000. Nigerian prince scammers are notorious for this. Of course he will say ANYTHING to get you there & promise you that he will follow the rules but there is nothing to hold him to that. Nothing. Once you walk in that door & it closes behind you he can do anything he wants to you whether you like it or not. He has no incentive to honor your boundaries because you are captive. If he were truly legit and honest then he would not leave you without a safety net. He doesn’t give a shit about your safety—words don’t matter. Actions do and his actions are very suspicious. I pray that nothing bad happens to you.
      You haven’t said what PG says about this. It seems that you trust this stranger as much or maybe more than PG. I really wonder what PG would think of your decision.

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  3. I have more of a safety net than any of you know, believe me. There are quite a lot of things that I have not included on this blog in order to keep it as anonymous as possible. I am the only one who knows all the details of my trip and the safety lines that I have.

    All PG knows is that I am going to see Master on a certain date and that I will be used hard by him like a proper slut. The only thing PG said is “Um. You better have photos. Multiple men?” and that was that.

    I trust few people, but I trust Master…I trust PG. I can’t say exactly why I trust them, but I do. It is just a feeling and that’s all I can say about that.

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