And now, for something completely different…

You. All.

PG blew my mind today.


In recent discussions with my trusted PG whisperer, CP, it was determined that this on-the-stairs fucking situation was apparently boring. While I think CP would likely disagree if she were on the receiving end of the Majestic Peen™ in person, she, herself, was not and she uttered the “boring” statement. I get it, though. Reading about PG fucking me on the stairs for a few weeks in a row might not tickle you, my dear readers, as much as it literally tickles me.

Of course, you’re free not to read my exploits, but I know some of you pervs can’t resist. To those pervs, I say THANK YOU. I am one of you.


So, I woke up this morning and noticed that one of my toenails had mysteriously shed the bright red polish that I had painted on it a few days ago. WTF? I have been unable to get a pedicure in over two months, so I have had to resort to the home pedi. Kids, this is a hot mess. I just can’t do it well. The polish goes on too thick and when that happens, it can be prone to peeling off in one fell swoop. BALLS. I had to shower and quickly repaint the errant nail. Done.

I also had to choose a wardrobe item that would cover the nasty, three-dimensional bruise on my left arm. I donated blood yesterday and that bitch fucked my shit up majorly. It looks slightly better today than it did yesterday, but it is still gross. See? So nasty. It’s three-dimensonalness is not appreciable in the photo, but TRUST ME, it is there. 😦


Anyhoo…I selected a black fishnet dress that goes down to my knees, with a black cotton thong underneath it. I waited.

PG texted 15 minutes out, so I took my towel and washcloth (CP!!!) to the stairs and assumed the position. I heard his big truck rounding the corner, tires a screechin’. Note that EVERY vehicle that drives on that curve, no matter how fast or slow, makes a screeching sound. I heard his door close and then another door close. I assumed he was getting the boxes of PPE out of  the truck. I heard him approach and he set down the boxes on my front porch. He slowly opened the front door to see my big ol’ ass on the stairs. “Oh, fuck yes,” he said.

I could hear him taking off his jacket and shirt as he continued praising my ass. His pants were either pulled down or removed. (I’d find out later.) He moved closer to me and cupped my ample butt cheeks with both hands as he reveled in its largeness. Bless him and his affinity for roundness/squishyness in a lady. (Yes, me! I’m the lady.)

I was on my knees on the stairs, with my knees together, to give him only the slightest of glances at my bits. PG pulled up my dress about halfway over my ass and he moved the g-string to the side. He spread my cheeks apart with his fingers and gasped, repeatedly whispering, “Fuck! Oh, fuck! So perfect!” as he inspected my pink bits thoroughly. He commented that he cannot believe that my pussy is always so wet for him and how hot that is. (No, I do not walk around with a sopping wet pussy all the time. It wakes up and does its thing when it is aware that a penile invasion is imminent.)

For a split second, I thought that I’d say something about doing something different than the stairs scenario, but then he plunged his cock into my ass and I forgot all about that.

Click here for how I envision an encounter with me and PG…except I cannot sing.

Ah, there’s nothing like some sweet anal lovin’ to start out the day, eh! (Yes, I had ridden the E train early this morning…all good to go!) Interestingly, the kitten was two steps above me and watched the entire proceedings, occasionally cooing at us for good measure. I have seen less than a cooing kitten make a man lose his hard-on, but PG remained unfazed.

The comments about my round, large ass (do you see a theme here?) were nonstop. Maybe me not going to the gym in so long is a good thing…?

PG was going deep and then he stopped and moved into my pussy without missing a beat. The man has skills. “Do you like Daddy in your whore pussy?” he questioned. I grunted out an enthusiastic YES. Then he stopped and stood up. WTF?! I turned around and he pointed to the bottom of the stairs. “Go there.” Um.

He turned around and sat on the stairs and then said, “Come here,” as he guided me to sit on his cock, facing away from him (for proper ass viewing, obvi). I suppose this is sort of a modified reverse cowgirl, ya? Well, whatever it was, it was AMAZING. The angle of entry perfectly hit the right spot. In this position, my ass clearly looked bigger and even more perfectly round and PG made certain to let me know this as he held it in his hands: “I just want to worship your perfect ass right now.” It was then that I noticed he was still wearing his underwear, pants, and boots…hilarious.

I was doing modified squats as I rode his perfect Daddy dick. Y’all. I haven’t been to the gym since March 13th because of the stay-at-home orders in my state. My thighs were burning. BURNING, I say! I pushed through the pain like a good slut would, but did I mention that my thighs were BURNING??


PG was enjoying the view of my jiggling ass while I was getting a proper thigh workout for the first time in 2 months. I finally had to dismount because I feared falling off of his cock, face-first into the floor with my thighs starting to quake. Not cool. I figured that we’d reposition on the stairs and continue. I was mistaken.

With a gleam in his eye, PG motioned to my living room, saying, “Over there.” He can be caveman-like sometimes. We walked down the hallway (I have to assume that he quickly removed his pants and/or boots, but I honestly cannot attest to that fact…) and he bent me over the side of the couch, entered my pussy, and pumped into me. Yes, of course there was a cat in the living room. She was displeased at the morning ruckus, but she stayed in her spot, silently judging me. I was thankful that my windows were still closed on this chilly morning because I was howling. The last time I fucked on that couch was with a dumb-as-fuck semi-professional hockey player a few years ago.

After a little while of couch fun, PG stopped, grabbed my hand, and took me to the kitchen. I thought he’d bend me down against the counter and go at me from behind. I was wrong again. He said, “Get up here!” and expected me to hoist myself up onto the counter. Um, that shit is high, y’all! There was no chance of that. Plane Guy was hearing none of my protests. He fucking PICKED ME UP and placed me on the counter. (I guess that antimicrobial quartz really was a smart choice!) I put my legs in the air (like I just don’t care), with my feet near his face and his cock was at the perfect height and angle to enter my pussy. A man of regular height could never have managed this, but our towering PG managed perfectly. Oh my fucking fucknipples……If I had thought that the modified-reverse-cowgirl-stairs situation hit the spot, MAN, this was 100 times better! This whole thing was beyond ridiculously pleasurable. Fuck, this might be the new fucking spot for us. Plus, it is easy to clean!

I could tell that PG was getting close to an orgasm. Having already cum a few times myself, I was ready to do what he needed to help him finish off. He helped me down to the floor. “On your knees,” he said. I dropped to my knees in my lovely kitchen, looked up at PG, and took every drop of his cum on my face, tongue, and tits. Happily, there was nary a spot of jizz on the floor or anywhere else that I could see.

He washed his dick off in my sink (again, most men could not manage this because of how high it is) as I mentioned that I had never fucked in my kitchen before. He said, “Well, now you can check it off your bucket list!” Then I offered that my basement has never been used for sex before and that we have to christen it one of these days. He gave me the side eye in disbelief. I explained that the basement was done just after he awakened my sleeping sexual beast and that he’d only started coming to my house late last year.

If I actually cooked in my kitchen, I might have been horrified at the events that had just occurred in there.

We walked to the front door and talked a little while he got redressed. He said he had to get “back home” and he bent down to kiss me goodbye – on my lips. I wonder: Does Orangina smell me on him (à la Miggs in “The Silence of the Lambs” – “I can smell your cunt!”) when he goes straight back home? Does she sense that something is…off? They always say that women just know, but do they really? Anyone out there have a comment to add here as a cheated-on individual who knew – or didn’t know??

Oh, and AGAIN, I did not suck his cock today. Weird. He was wearing his wedding ring.

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

Sluttily yours,
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

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