I thought, for fun, I’d torture Kaya with a story from when Antonio was here. I was hoping to make her giggle. She then informed me it’s Totally Against Blogging Law not to share these things publicly…

So… This post is her fault. All her fault. BLAME KAYA!

*smirk*

As I’ve mentioned a million billion times, Antonio was just here at the end of March.  I was so excited to see him; I could barely function above the level of an oxygen-deprived turtle.  (Or, at least, that’s what I’m blaming my idiocy on…)

I was exhausted come bedtime the first night, but I was still so keyed up that OMG HE WAS RIGHT THERE, I couldn’t fall asleep.  He fell asleep, though, and I just lay there, watching him breathe.  It was lovely. 

(Side note:  Long distance is good for only a handful of things.  One of those things is bringing a deeper appreciation for small things.  For instance, I was GLOWING from the fact that I could experience him with all my senses.  You don’t realize this sort of sensory deprivation with constant contact.  Here, away from him, alone, I can hear his voice… I can have him send me things that smell like him… I can look at pictures of him… But together?  I can touch him, smell him, taste him, see him, and hear him – all at once!  I don’t appreciate that fully unless I’m deprived it.)

Anyway,  ‘round about 4:30am, I was just dying of tired, and wanting to shoot myself and every chemical in my brain and body that was not allowing me rest.  Also ‘round about that time, Antonio woke up.  He saw me staring at him and muttered “You still awake?” and I said “Yes… I’m SO tired, though. *whine*“

At that moment, it came to my attention Antonio has the incredibly odd idea that I speak in code.  I do not, for the record, speak in code.  He, however, thinks when I say pretty much anything it’s code for “Master, can I please please please suck your cock?  Like, omg, please-right-now-please?”  Again, I repeat, there is NO CODE.  He just thinks there is, God love him.

So, with his imaginary-code-breaking skillz, he decides 4:30am is a good time to haul me off the bed so he can perform some sort of perverted examination of the contents of my stomach.  With his cock, of course.  After roughly nine thousand years of having my face and mouth just brimming with dick, my lips were numb, my eyes were tearing up and (because at one point he’d said, “Put your hand in front of your mouth, now”) my upper lip was cut from my fingers crushing my lip against my teeth over and over.

And I was getting incredibly frustrated. 

I ended up sort of crying from pain and exhaustion and frustration and he laughed at me and asked what was wrong.  I said, in a VERY slave-like manner, “You are doing this on PURPOSE, dammit.  Why aren’t you COMING?” 

(I will admit the effect of my badassery with those comments was slightly marred by the fact that, thanks to aforementioned activities, I was talking like I had taken several shots of novocain straight to my face.)

My badassery was also slightly marred because then he had made me gag until I threw up on myself.  (GOD.  Totally embarrassing, totally disgusting, and I swear he was almost pleased, the bastard.) But he STILL hadn’t come. 

Looking back, I REALLY should have realized the issue. I mean, why do people usually wake up at 4:30am? To pee, right? Right.

(I’m a moron.)

Confirming both the peeing theory and the moron-for-not-realizing theory, he said, “I have to piss and it’s making it hard as hell to come.  It’s also going to make it hard to piss, because it feels like there is a wad of cum blocking it.”

At that point, I knew exactly what was coming.  I KNEW IT, and my feeble little brain could not think of a way out of it.

He said, “Open your mouth, don’t move, and don’t touch me.”

I sat there, mouth open, eyes desperately rolling in my head, praying he’d be unable to piss…. And then, ACK! I felt the urine start trickling and spraying into my mouth – and dear GOD is it a messy affair when he has a hard-on.  It was all I could do to stay still with my mouth open, clenching my fists and making little half-moon marks in my palm with my fingernails. 

I concentrated the whole of my mental capacity on the debate of: “Keep waiting?  Or swallow some now?  He’ll be mad it you let any out, so maybe swallow some now, then again, it’d be easier to just do it all at once… God this is taking forever and….  Ew, God, ew, should I swallow now?  I hate everything in the entire world, ever ever ever, OH GOD, EW.”

Finally, I swallowed, and he decided to finish up in the bathroom.  I got dragged in with him, by the hair, so I could clean him off when he was through. 

So, picture this: I’m kneeling there, on the bathroom floor, sleep-deprived to the point of delirium, with my head frighteningly close to the toilet, feeling drops of urine hit my hair and face, with puke dripping down my chin and PJs, tears and mascara running down my cheeks, the taste of piss in my mouth, and all of a sudden Antonio farts.

And then he says, “Excuse me.”

And I totally lose my head. 

LOSE IT.

I honestly don’t think anything else on Earth will ever be as funny as that. It was this “Oh God, can’t breathe, going to hyperventilate” moment of comedy. 

He’s SO polite that he always says excuse me if he so much as burps, even in front of just me. It’s habit for him. But… The man had just gotten through doing things that most would consider utterly depraved in my presence and to my person, and the thing he excuses himself for is a FART?

I just couldn’t hold it together. Couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think, couldn’t see – couldn’t do ANYTHING but attempt not to laugh so hard I woke people up in the hotel.  

Even right now, the image of him standing there, (and my memory of it is just a waist-to-knees image) naked and trying to piss with a hard-on, with a filthy, messy, crying, bloody-lipped girl kneeling by the toilet, and then the fart, and then the “Excuse me” just… Oh God, I’m going to start laughing again.

(One day, I promise I’m going to have classy, kinky, fabulous stories for you guys. For now, you get me giggling at excusing farts.  I deeply apologize, and would like to remind you to Blame Tess, plzkthnx. )