Flashback – August 1989 – And so it begins

Guys. Seriously. It has been a week since I had peen. A week!! I’m miserable. Twitchy. I’ll likely never have sex again. WHY HAVE ALL OF MY GO-TO PEENS FORSAKEN MEEEEE?????? I hate men. Blah, blah, blah… (Does that seem right to you, CP?)

When I have thoughts like that, I try to stay calm. All that does, though, is make my sex-obsessed brain think about sex even more. It is terribly frustrating and annoying. Worse yet? PG texted me today. Really? He asked if I “took lots of dick in the butt in Vegas”. As you know, he’s quite the romantic. Son of a butthole, though, PG. Don’t text me that kind of shit unless you have the time to pound my holes into oblivion. Ass. Anhyoo…

To try to take my mind off of sex (yeah, right), gather ’round and let me tell you about my first night at college – as best as I can remember it, that is…

Waaayyyyyy back in August of 1989, your girl Honeytoes was experiencing a little freedom on her first night at college. There were lots of boys and lots of alcohol. (I had never had a drink before.) I had made a few girl friends already and we all ended up walking around to a bunch of parties. It was a tiny school with 8 dorms. I mean, technically, it was a dry campus, but that didn’t stop us! We were young and resilient…and bored. There was little to do in our little college town. There was a traffic light, a pizza shop, three bars (none of my group had fake IDs), and a cemetery. Oh, and there was a train track right next to the dorms. Yep.

Onward.

I have to admit that the details of this night are somewhat fuzzy. It took nearly no time till my new friends and I were proper knackered (Hi, Nicola!) on cheap beer and all abuzz about our first night of our college careers. I had lived a somewhat sheltered life before college. My father was strict. I never went to parties, never saw many of the typical ’80s movies, and I certainly never drank alcohol! I made up for lost time within the first hour after my parents dropped me off at school, I can assure you.

My new friends and I wandered from dorm to dorm, chugging as much cheap beer as quickly as we could because it was the style at the time. If I remember correctly, we were on the third floor of one of the dorms. A really cute boy approached me (I’m easily distracted by cute boys, whether or not I am drunk.) and I followed him into one of the rooms. It was a fairly big room, with bunk beds in the far corner. We started to kiss and then…before I realized what was happening, there I was fucking…um…well, I don’t remember his name, but it doesn’t really matter. Whats-his-name and I were fucking on the bottom bunk and I looked to my right and noticed that there were at least 20 other guys there. They were watching. It seemed to me that they were waiting patiently in line to have their turn with the drunk (but still alert enough to consent, y’all!!) freshman.

After I noticed the lineup of boys, I decided that I would take all of them on and announced it to them. No one left. In fact, a few more heard the hullabaloo and decided to get in line. Each of the boys had a condom in his happy hands. There was a mighty HUZZAH and the #fuckery began. (No, there wasn’t really a HUZZAH, but this story is kind of dull…I’m taking some artistic license, okay?) What did happen, though, is that each of the boys lined up and had a go at this slut. I was super psyched because I had only had sex with 8 boys up till that night and I felt like I had to make up for lost time. (Here’s the list: the curly-haired blonde dude I lost my virginity to in May 1988; the now-dead guy from the night after I lost my virginity; Shane and Rob from Kansas while we were in Kiev, Ukraine; a guy I refer to as cumbubble; Coke Can Mike; the Navy Seal wannabe who tweaked his knee and ended up selling stereo equipment; and Chuck.)

I realize that some people have not had sex with that many people in their entire lives, much less in a year of high school, but I can’t help that those people are living dull, sexually unsatisfying lives. I know of a few couples who waited till marriage to have sex…both the male and female of the couples…and they are miserable. How can a person live knowing that there is only one #peen or one twat for the rest of their lives and that they’ll never have another? I, myself, would rather die. I’m not exaggerating. I’m sorry, y’all, but sex is a skill. One needs practice to become good at it, save for the extremely rare case of a natural sexual genius. One must hone one’s sexual skills. If you only have sex with one person and neither of you has ever been with anyone else, how skilled do you think either of you could possibly be???? At a minimum, one person in the couple should have to sleep with at least 30 other people before marrying. Ideally, both parties should have to have sex with multiple partners before marriage. Just my thoughts.

I entertained each of the boys in line and then along came the last one. I had heard about him earlier in the night. The rumor was that he had the biggest dick on campus. He was a senior. He came into the room to have a look, but by then, I was ready for some water and some sleep. (I had an 8:00 am biology class the next day, after all.) I turned him down, but only that one time. We’ll talk about him another time. I shall call him Mandingo…and I have been fucking him on and off since 1990. Oh, and? He did have the biggest dick on campus. Oh, I did make it to my bio class the next morning, but got there a little late. I had to sit in the front row. My professor was inches from me and he had that white sticky saliva in the corners of his mouth. I almost puked, but I held it together…even though I may still have been a little drunk from the night before.

A few notes…I’m SO GLAD there was no internet, YouTube, or smartphones back in the day. Mother of Christ…I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like had those things existed. It was an innocent time, technologically speaking. We didn’t have phones in our rooms…just the pay phone at the end of the hallway. It was not till my senior year that someone I knew had a computer. To write papers, we had to wait our turn to use the ancient computers and dot matrix printers. Jesus.

During my college years, I stayed in the same dorm room all four years. I’m a creature of habit…don’t like change at all.) I didn’t have a roommate. What I did have, though, was a loft, so I used to put a tick in my ceiling tile for each guy I fucked. By the time I graduated, I had moved onto the second tile. My best estimate of men I fucked during my college years is approximately 600, not that you asked. Yeah, that’s about 150 a year. Remember, though, there were lots of evenings where I’d fuck MULTIPLE men, sometimes sequentially, sometimes at the same time (spit roast, y’all). There were many orgies. I’m a slut, remember?

Next? When I’d walk by the dorms after a night of ho-ing, I’d hear calls of “slut!” out the windows. I’d smile and wave, though I knew that they were trying to embarrass me. Embarrass a slut by calling her a slut?! Please. Try again. Fuckwits. #iamslut

Every Monday night after Monday Night Football, I’d get a regular stream of “customers”. They’d be out and about and on their way back to their rooms and they’d inevitably end up standing outside of my dorm throwing pebbles against my window. I’d let them in the back door (No, not my ass – I didn’t start doing that till I was a more seasoned slut.) and we’d have some fun. Fun fact? One of the dudes who was a “regular” with me (and not only on football night) ended up marrying one of my sorority sisters. They’re still married and my best guess is that she still has no clue that I used to fuck her now-husband. I love secret sex.

I just remembered one night where one of my regular dicks had his friends visiting for the weekend. Yadda yadda yadda, I somehow ended up hooking up with all of his friends at a nearby party at a farmhouse. I don’t recall how I got there (I didn’t drive – someone else did.) or how I got home. Every single time I go back to the college for a visit, I drive by that farmhouse and laugh as I wonder if those farmers had any idea of the shenanigans that happened there one night in the early 1990s.

I gained the reputation of “slut” pretty quickly and it stuck with me throughout my time at college. Some of the fraternity pledges had to come see me as part of their hazing pledging activities. I took the virginity of quite a few boys (including one on his fraternity jacket in the middle of the muddy football field as his brothers hooted and hollered their approval), and I considered that a public service. Somebody had to do it, after all, and that somebody was ME.

Don’t forget to check back next week. I have a dick appointment – I mean date – with Man Bun and I think that I am also seeing Master (sorry, CP, but I dig him). I am hoping that I’ll be able to bring you some good content very soon…and not just these disappointing flashbacks. Hope Whore springs eternal.

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

Sluttily yours,
Honeytoes
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

 

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