Bowled over…or Oh! de toilet

Yes, I know. It is “eau de toilette”. Stay with me here. *sigh*

“You up?” was the text from PG this morning, right before 6:00 am. Of course I was up, and I figured he was going to cancel. He did not cancel, but he did want to come at 7:00 instead of our previously agreed time of 9:30-ish. I said he could come early, but then that would mean pussy-only sex. He was okay with that and I got myself ready. My thong of choice today was a bright yellow, lacy thong from the fine people at Walmart.

Oh, and can we please take a moment to appreciate that he didn’t text “u up” like the kids do. I find joy in writing full words and it brings me joy when others do as well.

I had done my hair yesterday in anticipation of his visit. He likes my crazy hair and since I have worn it in a bun rather a lot lately, I thought I’d go for the curls. One of the benefits of having curly hair is that – with careful daily refreshing of the curls – I can go for upwards of 7 to 10 days without having to do my hair again. I have to sleep on a silk pillowcase and do all sorts of maneuvers while I sleep so that it doesn’t get crushed while I sleep.

Doing my hair involves a complex hair washing and conditioning, a confusing (and ever-changing) array of hair care products getting smooshed into my hair in just the right amounts and in the right order (with the exact right amount of wetness in the hair), and then a good 30 to 45 minutes of sitting with my head upside down as I dry it with a diffuser. It is exhausting. The worst part of all of this is that it doesn’t always turn out the way I want. Potentially (usually) over an hour of toiling can still lead to fuzzy, unruly curls and an annoyed Honeytoes. When I decide to “do” my hair, it is a whole procedure. I dislike having to do my hair again before at least 5 days have elapsed. Remember that for later.

Did I mention that he requested stair sex again? The “stair sex” towel was laid out on the steps and the wet and dry washcloths were prepared. I waited. I heard his truck and assumed the position – my ass on display when he’d open the door.

Not a word was spoken when he came inside, which is stupid hot. He took off his shirt and admired my ass, holding it in his hands. PG squeezed my ass, then he pulled aside the thong and played with my pussy before taking a few photos. PG couldn’t resist playing with my asshole, too. Then I heard the sounds of him removing his belt, undoing his zipper, and taking down his pants. (It’s a veritable symphony to me!) He moved closer and gently began fucking my pussy while holding my hips, moving us in unison, all while holding the thong out of his way with his left hand. I don’t know if his dick was hard as soon as he walked through my front door, but if he wasn’t, it took practically no time for him to get hard enough to enter my pussy. Plane Guy is a fucking sexual miracle.

There had been no dick sucking, so when he stopped fucking me and told me to come to the bottom of the steps, I figured that I’d be on my knees sucking his dick. Nope. PG pushed me down the hallway (his hand holding onto my arm) and I turned around and said, “Couch?” Nope. He opened the powder room door and turned on the light. PG lifted up the lid and pushed me down onto the seat, facing the toilet tank. For a minute there, I thought that he was going to pee on me. From behind me, he wiggled and adjusted my butt so that my pussy would be available to him, sort of hanging off the front of the toilet – backwards. I leaned against the back of the toilet and felt his cock entering my pussy roughly. (Or “wuffly” for those out there who are “Life of Brian” fans…I tried to find the perfect gif, but I failed.)

I don’t think I have actually been fucked like this on a toilet before. I know that I rode a guy once on a toilet, but that was many years ago while in college. Good times. In any case, I suppose a light bulb went off in PG’s head for his next move. If you are sensitive, just stop reading and go away. If you are twisted (like me) or interested in reading about me being “humiliated”, then keep reading. You have been warned.

PG pulled me up and pushed me to my knees. I thought for a split second that I’d be sucking his cock, but I was wrong again. He moved me so that I was on my knees with my face in (yes, in) the toilet bowl. You all. I mean…what can I say?

My face was not in the water of the bowl like a proper swirly, but MY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL HAIR WAS. No, not all of it was in there, but enough that I was thankful that (1) this was a new toilet (2) said toilet was immaculately cleaned just yesterday, and (3) it is not often used. As he was holding my head in the bowl, he was fucking me like a man possessed. It was both disturbing and a turn on. It was twisted AF. It smelled strongly of bleach (thank FSM!). It was wrong and gross…and there would be no man other than PG that I would ever allow to get away with that move. Ever.

I was thinking how sick he is – what an absolute degenerate this man is. Then, of course, I thought that I must be even more of a degenerate than PG because I allowed him to do this to me. I think that most of my regular readers are aware that PG and I have played with no limits in the past. Recently, our sex has become less perverse, but now that he just celebrated his first wedding anniversary, I guess he needs what I give him more now than ever.

He stopped fucking me and told me to get up. As I rose, I quickly squeezed the toilet water (Gah! WTF!?) out of my hair and wiped off my hands on a towel that was hanging in the powder room. I was rather stunned. Again, I could NOT find a proper Monty Python “stunned” parrot gif, so here’s the part of the script that seems relevant:

Screen Shot 2020-06-08 at 11.00.03 AM

He pushed me over to the couch and told me to get on my back. I got onto my back and then he started fucking my pussy again. He smiled broadly and asked, “You liked that, didn’t you?” “Yes,” I squeaked with a smile. “My dirty girl!” He was clearly amused, as was I.

When I got onto the couch, I pulled my yellow thong to the side and held it there so PG had unrestricted access to my pink bits. I spread my legs as wide as I could and this signaled him to go deeper. I yelped. It was not a yelp of surprise because I knew exactly how it would feel. Perhaps it was a yelp of surrender…or something. In any case, I yelped. PG stopped and then removed my thong. He looked my in my eyes and said, “Turn over.”

I did as he asked – I pretty much always do. PG again entered my pussy and fucked me with those long, deep strokes that I love as I moved my ass with him. Aaaahhhhh….yes. I do like that PG changes things up, even within the same fuck session. We go from pounding to grinding to whatever….and it keeps things fun. A few minutes later, PG told me he was going to cum and he did so all over my back. He does love to see that money shot.

I was warned not to move and he grabbed the washcloths and cleaned up both of us. I stood up and we looked at each other and laughed. “Where the hell did THAT come from?!” I asked. He smiled and said, “I have no idea!” There were no bad feelings or awkwardness…just happiness that we are both open-minded and quite sexually deviant.

Had this Honeytoes’-head-in-the-toilet scenario been presented to me prior to it happening, I’m not sure that I would have been okay with it…not that I wouldn’t have agreed, mind you…just that I’m not sure I’d have been super keen on it. This July will be 4 years that I have been fucking PG and even from the first time we were together, it feels like he has always somehow known exactly how to push me.

Before you ask, I FLEW up the stairs and got into the shower as soon as the front door closed. I did my hair. AGAIN. Twice in two days is just too much for me, but I’ll do it for PG. I, Honeytoes, hereby vow to clean all of the toilets in my house every fucking day for the rest of my life.

I have a meeting to join right now…maybe I’ll add more to this post after I have had some time to think…

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

Sluttily yours,
Honeytoes
#notesfromaslut #honeytoes #hoislife

1 thought on “Bowled over…or Oh! de toilet”

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