The Rhythm of the Saints

Way, way back when Honeytoes was in college, she was a  super ho. I think that we all know that. During most of the next few years, one guy in particular was the go-to guy when a full-on, proper dicking down was required. Without going totally off the topic here, there were a few albums that were played on repeat for hours at a time. One was Maxi Priest’s Bonafide. The other was Paul Simon’s The Rhythm of the Saints. As soon as I hear the first drum of “Obvious Child”, that is enough to remind me of those days where I’d spend entire weekends in his apartment. We’d fuck for hours and then he’d cook African food for me. Then we’d fuck some more.

I really should write a blog about this guy…the West African cervix tickler…but that isn’t really a good name for him. Note that this guy is thrice married with kids, but we still communicate. (His oldest boy is now 18 and he is as hot as his father.) I’ve been to his home in Ghana, to his wedding to his current wife in Kenya, and I even attended his father’s 90th birthday party in Ghana in 2016. He is the one person that I absolutely know would do anything for me at any time…and he is hung.


For the last few weeks, PG has been texting. He’d told me weeks ago that he would come see me near the end of January since he is now working jobs in close proximity to my area (yay!). The date kept changing, though, so I assumed I’d get through the first month of 2020 without any peen. Happily, I was wrong.

I will say, however, I was not particularly in the mood for a PG visit when I was thinking about it yesterday. My day was total shit and I was not in any mood to have to prepare and whatnot. In fact, this morning I even tried to scare him away. I got another piercing on my nose the other day (total of 30 piercings for anyone who is curious) and said he couldn’t touch my face and that I couldn’t wear my typical whorish makeup. He didn’t care. I said that meetings had been booked up to 9:30 this morning. He said he’d be here at 9:40. I said I wouldn’t have time for the E Train. That kind of messed him up a bit.


I’m the queen of anal, apparently, and my butthole is his lighthouse or something. He’s lost without my ass and my anal game. Y’all! I have anal game!

There was simply no time for prep today and I made that clear. He acquiesced and asked me to be on my bed at 9:40, dressed and ready for him. I selected my FAVORITE body stocking, put on eyebrows, mascara, and lip gloss, and then waited. The bodystocking is black (of course), but the fishnetting is different than the ultra-cheap ones I got in bulk from China. The weave is thicker. I love it so.

Paul Simon was playing, a lavender-citrus candle was burning, and I had closed the bedroom door so that there were no cats involved in the encounter like last time. Right at 9:40, I heard the door downstairs open and the jingling bells of cats scattering. PG came into the bedroom and carefully closed the door behind him. He smiled and said that the cats were running around like maniacs.

PG wore dark blue jeans and a navy t-shirt with the name of his company on the back. He had taken his boots off downstairs at the front door. He removed his shirt and lowered his underwear (black boxer briefs) and jeans and I got onto the floor to work my oral magic on his Majestic Peen™. One thing about him that I like is that he is always very clean and odor-free in the area of his bits. I super appreciate that.

He was incredibly vocal this morning…lots of calling me his slut, a cunt, and so on. I, myself, was also vocal: loud sucking and gagging sounds seem to enhance his enjoyment.

I was happily occupied down there for a few minutes (at least 1.5 songs played). As I serviced my favorite peen, he bent down to grab, spank, and jiggle my bouncy ass. He, of course, commented on its roundness and bounciness. He always makes me feel better about how I look.

Now we were ready to go. I can’t honestly say why, but today my bits were ultra excited for PG. That is hilarious because, as I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t even in the mood for a jump at first. He told me to get on the bed on my back, with my ass at the end of the bed. PG moved closer, pulled me to the edge of the bed, put my feet up by his ears, and slowly plunged into my pussy. He groaned in satisfaction. It was about 6 weeks since we were together and it felt…different than before. It was…maybe more passionate/desperate than other times. Every now and then, a tryst with PG seems more intense than usual. Today was definitely one of those days. He seemed harder, I was wetter…I don’t know. It was just so good.

Unfortunately, my favorite bodystocking did not escape intact. When I was on my back, PG reached down and just freakin’ ripped it down the center, from chest to crotch. GAH!!!! I was displeased, but since he had his dick inside of me at the time, I decided to let it go. Of course, this meant that for the rest of our bedroom adventure, the arm, half the torso, and the leg were still on my body in two separate pieces. Please refer to my most excellent pencil sketch (not drawn to scale) below to understand what I looked like.


While I hadn’t done my full prep on my hiney, I didn’t get the feeling that there would be any…um…problem if he wanted to give it a go. When PG pulled out of my pussy and gently put the head of his dick on my asshole, he stopped and said, “Yes?” I nodded and he ever so gently entered my ass with just the head of his dick. #justthetip Again, I don’t particularly understand the reason why, but HOLY CRAP…that drove me crazy. He exercised impressive penile control and I was in bliss.

There were many changes of position: on my back, on my stomach, ass up in the air, laying on my side, legs together, legs apart, legs all over the place. With each of these, there was both vaginal and anal sex. Don’t tell me that going back and forth between holes is not ideal. I am quite well aware of that. It also is not ideal to be fucking a married guy bareback, but I’m doing that as well. Sue me.

Another note is that my very tall bed seems to suit PG just perfectly. My box spring on this new bed is three inches taller than the previous one. I need a step stool to get in comfortably, but it puts my pink bits at the perfect height for PG’s Majestic Peen™. No short guys will do in the future. Oh, who are we kidding? I’m not even looking for new peen right now anyway, but if I ever do, I will require someone tall AF.

During our rendezvous, the Paul Simon album started over again.

When he came, it took him by surprise and he blew a fat load all over my stomach and tits. “Do not move. Where’s your towel?”

Um, turn the fuck around and you can see it hanging on the towel rack – just like before. (Boys can be dumb, y’all.) He got the towel and brought it over to me, warning me not to get off the bed because the step stool had tipped over. He was concerned that I’d trip. (He can be sweet for an adulterous pervert.) I cleaned myself off and went into the bathroom as he washed off his still-erect cock in my beautiful sink to ask him about HIS WEDDING RING. I had noticed his ring as he was ripping off my bodystocking earlier. I thought it best to wait to mention it.

“Um, so, what’s THIS? Of course you understand that I don’t care if you are married or not,” as I pointed to his ring. He sheepishly grinned and said, “Yeah…” “So, you’re married? Is it that girl from before?” I asked. “Yeah, the psycho!” said he. I asked if he is happy and he said he is (I don’t believe him.), so I congratulated him. I asked when it happened and he said “recently”. He is an odd man.

Then he started getting chatty about her crazy cousins who killed some dude in a mob hit or whatever (he told me this once before). Then he started bitching about work and the guy who owns his company. We’ll call him M. There is some shady AF financial shit happening at M’s hands. The workers likely won’t be paid because M is partying like a rock star in Florida, not answering PG’s calls, and generally being shady. There is a HUGE (and I mean FUCKING HUGE) client with HELLA FUCKING CASH at hand for all the work that PG does, and M isn’t even going to fly up to meet with him. PG is going there on his own. I can’t say who the client is, but it is SO FUCKING BIG.

Did I mention the offshore accounts that PG’s office gal found? Did I mention that the dude is high up in the Scientology cult? There is some bad, bad stuff happening. I hope PG steers clear of all of that because there are no conjugal visits for mistresses or hos in prison. He kvetched to me for at least three songs. He truly seems affected by this stuff, saying his health is beginning to suffer – both mental health and physical health.

Right before he left, he mentioned coming back next week and he kissed me and said, “See ya soon, doll. Be safe.” and he was on his way. I love when he calls me “doll”. It is cute.

**UPDATE** I was just about to publish this blog post and PG texted once again…that poor bastard. I wonder how much he talks with Orangina about this stuff.


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

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

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