Come on, y’all. I’m joking. I was not being held captive, as one of my friends joked in her slightly panicked texts to me. Sheesh. I was not joking about the “face down, ass up” bit, though.
I started this post on my flight home (the LAS-ORD leg) and I am happy to report that all my organs are intact. It was an eventful 2 days. Clearly, I am not dead. I am, in fact, very much alive. I’d go so far to say that I am invigorated. Cleansed. A good number of my online friends and my IRL friends were against me making the trip to Las Vegas to meet and stay with Master, a man I have now known just about one month. I believe that I booked the trip out to Vegas sometime around the second week I knew him, though. Perhaps I should have been concerned as well. I, myself, was not. (I still heart you, CP.)
I trust relatively few people, but sometimes one is almost compelled to trust someone new right from the beginning. This is what I think happened with Master. No, I cannot explain it. It. Just. Is. I’m tired of defending my choices. They’re MY choices and MY consequences to deal with afterward.
Now that y’all know I am safe and sound, let me tell you about my Saturday with Master. With my body on East coast time, I was awake EARLY. I was antsy as he slept on his abnormally tall (and comfortable) bed. I put on my makeup. I updated my blog. I played Candy Crush on my phone. I texted some people to let them know I had survived the night. When he finally got out of bed, I made it clear what I wanted…what I needed…and that was for him to fuck his dirty slut.
See, the thing is, when I am getting some good D (and Master certainly provided that this weekend), it makes me want even more. I am fairly certain that I have an addiction to #peen – and I wanted every inch of Master’s cock inside of me RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Because I am writing this running on practically no sleep and a day after it happened, the whole sequence and many details of our morning constitutional are blurry. Please let me assure you, however, that the carpet marks on my knees, torso, and face are now fully resolved. #slutproblems #slutlife
I greedily took Master’s cock into my mouth and as far down my throat as it could possibly go. I felt like I needed him to go deeper into me – as if he were fucking my soul. Each of my holes were tended to with an aggression that I now crave. (Honeytoes’ extra tip: Guys, if you ever end up meeting me and things get to critical mass, please – for the love of crumb cake – do NOT try to “make sweet love” to me. You don’t love me. I don’t love you. We’re not trying to make a baby or any such nonsense. I need you to fuck me like the slut I am. Get me wet by getting into my mind and make me need to fuck you. Make me feel like your cock is the only one in the universe and show me just how much you need to make me your #slut, if only for a short time. Own my pussy…don’t be one.)
We finished off our morning encounter with a little anal action, hence the “face down, ass up” bit of today’s blog title. Y’all know I’m a fan of that…Remember #buttstuffthursday and In your colander? – among others? Ah, yes, good times. Now, if I remember correctly, he came inside my ass. I’m uninterested in any comments or judgment about that, so don’t bother. We’re both clean and I’m over it. #bonafide
You may remember that the most horrifying part of my trip to see Master is not that he might make me into a skin suit (Say, are you about a size 14?), harvest my kidneys and corneas, or drug me and sell me into white slavery. Nope. It was that I’d have to eat vegan food while with him. We ate at two vegan restaurants – one for lunch and one for a late meal and I tried my very first vegan donut. YUM. I hate being wrong and admitting I’m wrong, but holy crap, man…The food was delicious! I’m pretty sure that hardcore veganism is not going to be where I end up, but I’m going to look into it. Anyhoo…
After lunch, we hung out at his house and then he went to the gym, despite my slightly lame attempt at a temper tantrum. While he was gone, I tried to nap. I woke up a bit later and I was totally stiff. Yeah, y’all remember Master’s rule that I cannot be on the furniture without his permission, right? Even when he was not home, I followed his house rule. Perhaps I am a little too old and out of shape to be sleeping on the floor, but I managed. Today I am sore, but I’m pretty sure I’ll live. Please note that I always had the option to ask if I could sit on the couch. Would he have granted my request? Who knows…but I really wanted to make an effort to stick to house rules…and I did.
Master showered and then I got what I so desperately craved: quality time with Master’s thick cock. Even though I felt like a zombie (because I was so utterly exhausted), tending to Master’s sexual needs (and mine) woke me up enough that our trip to downtown Las Vegas for a little something to eat and a trip to Fremont Street was something that I was excited to do, even though before the deep dicking I was ultra sleepy. In all of my visits to Las Vegas, I had never been to Fremont Street before, so it was fun going there with someone who knew where to go.
The place was teeming with a zillion (more or less) people. Negotiating our way through the mass of humanity was a feat, to be sure. Master took my hand so that he could lead me through the crowd. A few times he lead me with his finger through the loop of my collar. I felt like he was protecting his property and it did not offend me. I even liked it, I think. (Remember Stretch? Yeah, when he held my hand, I stiffened up and then pulled away.) It was completely different with Master. The light show above our heads was breathtaking. As you may know, I do love shiny things and Las Vegas is definitely shiny.
Having had our fill of Fremont Street, Master drove us to the “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign down at the South end of The Strip. I have been coming to Vegas since 2003, but I had never stopped there to take a photo. He snapped a few pictures of me and we headed back to his house. I got barely 2 hours of sleep before having to leave for the airport for my 7:00 a.m. fight home. He kindly offered to drive me there. I accepted. It was the first time since 1988 that someone dropped me off at the airport. I got hugs and kisses and I was on my way.
Now, then. Gather ‘round and let me tell you about PG for a moment. He always wants photos of me with any guy I fuck. Not all men agree to this. Master did agree and he took photos of a few of our escapades. After the first day, I sent a batch to PG. His reply irked the living fuck out of me. It irked me so much that I didn’t even bother asking Master to take any additional photos the rest of the time. PG said that all I was doing was sucking his dick and he wanted to see my “asshole raped hard”. Idiot. Of course there are lots of cocksucking photos…THEY’RE THE EASIEST TO MANAGE! There were many penetration shots (vag and ass) as well various and sundry other gems. I guess PG wanted my pink bits to be a literal bloody mess for his masturbatory pleasure. It just irked me. I have decided that I won’t reply until the next day (or 2) the next time he texts me. Ingrate. How many girls would go to the lengths that I have gone to for PG? I’ll tell you how many: NONE. I’m tired.
(Bonus! Honeytoes’ extra tip: If you are a cocksucker like this slut is, may I kindly recommend sucking off a #vegan? I mean, my experience is really just an N of 1, so perhaps I need to suck off a few more vegans for statistical purposes. Master has the sweetest #vegancum. Not being a fan of jizz, I was not particularly keen on having his seed spilling over my tongue and down my gullet, but I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. I didn’t have that “I think I’m gonna barf” moment. I just thought you should know. #sharingiscaring)
One more thing of potential interest to my FT peeps: I got VDB’d at ORD!! $500 voucher and a $12 food voucher – and re-booked into my F seat for a flight home 2 hours later. I overheard the GA on the phone and I distinctly heard “volunteers” and my ears perked up. I was being a gate louse (obvi), so I was the first to pounce as soon as she made the official announcement. (If you don’t know what those things mean, you are not my people.) JOY! Is the universe telling me that I should go back to Vegas for another visit with Master? Ancient astronaut theorists say YES.
Yes, it was truly a wonderful weekend…and even though I broke a fingernail (DAMMIT!!!), I couldn’t be more appreciative of the time spent with Master. Truly. So don’t harsh my fucking mellow, people. All is well.
…and always remember: Ho is life, y’all!
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife