I can't imagine writing a proper diary, like Samuel Pepys or like politicians do, you know, "Lunch with the PM. He seems concerned about the colonies. Afternoon tea with Lord Muchtoorich and Ffylkington-Smythe. Will these wretched workers ever learn?" My diary would get repetitive, very quickly. Mostly I just jot down interesting things when they happen, then go back and fill in the details later, hopefully not too much later else I find I've forgotten. I thought it would be fun though to keep a proper diary of just about everything I did for a few days, people keep asking me about my life and what I do and what I eat and how I dress and all sorts of stuff. So here it is, starting on one Monday when things were a bit quiet and I didn't have much else to do. I thought it was going to be a quiet week, and that I'd manage to write a couple of pages for each day at most. It turned out to be a pretty exciting time, and my diary did grow to Pepysian proportions, which is why I decided to publish each day separately. And also why it has taken me weeks to get to where I can publish it.
Woke up late, after a party on Sunday with a few friends that got really wild. It takes me a little while to work out where I am and all that kind of thing. My head hurts. I'm thirsty, and I'm bursting to pee. I'm in bed. I think it's my own bed, in my own flat. I open my eyes very carefully. Yes, it's my own bed. I'm still dressed, in my favourite kinky rubber nurse outfit, which means I'm also slithering around in my own sweat inside it. I must have been pretty drunk when I got home. There's a smell of stale piss, and I remember now some of the wild things that happened. My pillow is damp, and so is my hair. I try sitting up, but my head hurts. I go back to sleep for a while. When I wake up again, I really am bursting. I think about just letting it flow where I am. But it seems like a waste, when I'm so thirsty. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. My head hurts. I sink back onto the bed and doze off again. After several more attempts, I finally give up and relieve a little of the pressure in my bladder while prone. My hot smelly pee is held inside my rubber dress and runs back down my bottom, running through the crack and then spreading in a puddle under the small of my back. Delicious. But I stop myself since I don't want to waste it all, and anyway I like the feel of my swollen bladder. Eventually it is thirst that gets the better of me. I manage to sit up on the side of the bed and grope around to find the chamber pot at my feet. The flow goes on and on, the best kind of piss, rich and deep yellow where I am dehydrated, with a really rich smell. When the last few drops have left me, I lift the pot to my mouth and drink it all down, savouring its strong morning taste. This is piss at its finest. It's selfish of me, but I really like to have it to myself rather than giving it to a slave or lover. I settle back down, relishing the strong, bitter after-taste. My head still hurts. I go back to sleep for a while. My bowels are full too, but I decide to save that for later. I realise I am hungry. Time for breakfast.
I pad out to my kitchen. I'm still wearing the white stockings that go with my kinky nurse dress, although it seems I did manage to take my shoes off. What to eat? I look in the fridge and find a bowl of kitchen slops that I liberated from the pub a few nights ago, some rotting vegetables from the market, and a half-eaten burger that I salvaged from a bin. I pour some sour milk over the slops and eat a few spoonfuls. The sour milk will add flavour to the rest for later. There are a few bits of inedible gristle and bone in the slops, but the rest is quite tasty. A little pocket of chocolate something contrasts nicely with the general greasiness. Feeling pleasantly full I pad back to bed and curl up again. By the time I'm finally awake it's early afternoon. I need to pee again and this time I let flow completely inside my dress, feeling the warm liquid spread under me. What to do today? I don't really have any plans. I don't have any slaves visiting, nor any special reason to go out anywhere. But I do need a shit, so I decide to make the most of that. I slip on a pair of long rubber bloomers, with tight elastic at the waist and legs. They're just about loose enough to go on without talc and fuss, but still quite cosy against my skin. Then a little push, and suddenly they're full of warm, oozy shit, squeezing around my bottom and cunt. It feels good. I start to rub myself, but after last night even I am too exhausted to take it any further. I lay there, basking in the pleasure and the smell which is starting to escape despite the tight elastic. Reluctantly, I decide it is time to get out of bed. The rubber dress is beginning to make my skin itch. I take it off, releasing a burst of smell, a mixture of sweat and piss and talc. My skin is sticky with sweat and stale piss. I caress my belly and my heavy breasts. I can't take my stockings off now, without disturbing my panties. Discoloured piss is dribbling down them, leaving brownish trails on the white nylon. My bare skin feels cold, so I slip on a sweatshirt. This one has been lying round my bedroom for some time, and has a satisfying smell of mixed body fluids which nicely complements everything else. Now it's time to give some serious thought to what I'm going to do today. That's when I decide to do what people have been asking me for some time, and write a diary.
I make myself a big pot of tea, then sit in front of my computer and start writing. The hard chair forces the shit which fills my panties up into my crotch. From time to time I give myself a little caress through the rubber. Once I've got the diary under way, I switch to another story I've been working on for a while. Empty afternoons like this are the perfect time for writing. Out of the grubby window I can watch the great view of the semi-derelict area that surrounds my flat. Nothing much happens, though a factory is going up along the road so there's some building traffic. The window really does need cleaning. I push a finger into my pants and write a cross onto the glass, to remind me to get a slave to lick it clean sometime soon. Of course one thing leads to another. Don't know what I ate last night, but it has given things a funny taste. It's quite interesting, so I take some more and savour it.
I spend the afternoon at my computer in my stockings, my latex bloomers and my sweatshirt. I piss a couple more times, but there's no way my panties can hold liquid so I stand in the bath and let myself go. The warm liquid floods into them, swilling round me and adding to the mixture already there. Then it gradually flows out around the elastic, soaking my stockings. I bask in the sensation then insert a finger into the elastic, creating a torrent of filthy liquid into the bath that soaks my feet. What remains inside my panties has an even sexier feeling to it, semi-liquid and perfect for a little caress. Then I step back to my desk, leaving delicate footprints of the scented mixture. One of my slaves will clean that up when the time comes.
By seven or so, I feel like I've had enough of writing. I've finished up an article for a magazine and made a good start on a couple of other pieces. Sometimes I just write and write and don't notice the time go by until it's way past time to go to bed. Tonight though, as the light fades, I start to feel sorry for myself. I don't want to spend the evening on my own. I don't feel like cleaning myself up so I can go out. And I fancy eating some proper food. I decide to call my friend Mike and tell him he's in for a treat if he brings some food round. Luckily he's not doing anything else. I use the time while I'm waiting to get things ready for my planned session with a slave on Tuesday. An hour later I hear his bike outside. I've known Mike for ages, since soon after I moved to London. He's one of the first people I met who is into messy sex as much as I am - well, nearly anyway. We've had some great fun together over the years. He works as a dispatch rider which gives him plenty of opportunity for a messy lifestyle. He comes in carrying an Indian takeaway and a bag from the supermarket with various other odds and ends I asked him to bring. As soon as he walks in he says,
"Phew, Pauline, what a stink! What've you been up to?" He drops the bags on the floor and looks at me, then grabs my panties and starts feeling me through the slosh that fills them.
"You've been a dirty girl, haven't you? I bet you've been pissing and shitting yourself all day long, you slut". He slides a hand down inside the latex and starts rubbing me, his skin rough even through the almost-liquid mess. Then he pushes his dirty hand up my sweatshirt and grabs my tit, roughly, smearing it with the filth, tweaking my erect nipple. I pull the sweatshirt over my head and press my face to his, giving him a long tongue kiss, feeling the roughness of his beard and moustache. He has a strong smell of unwashed man, with a hint at messier things for later. I drop to my knees and unzip his leathers, taking his big cock into my mouth, tasting his unwashed taste of sweat and smegma and old piss. I make him hard and suck him until I taste the first hint of his cum. Then I take off his biker jacket and the grubby shirt he is wearing underneath, running my tongue over his hairy chest and round under his armpits, tasting the strong sourness there. Wow! I love it, my mouth full of his tastes, and we haven't even started yet. I go back to his nipples, both pierced, and suck and nibble on them until they are as hard as his cock. He pushes me back into the bedroom and onto the bed, then strips off his boots and leather pants in front of me. He's quite thin and wiry, with a sexy body and - thanks to my earlier attention - a rock-hard cock pointing to the ceiling. He drops to his knees and hungrily starts to kiss and suck my toes through my damp, soiled stockings. I love it. Then his tongue runs up my legs until he is teasing at the elastic of my panties, then pressing his mouth against the rubber that covers my cunt, teasing me through the mess that fills them. Finally he snatches them down from my waist, releasing a pungent bouquet a hundred times stronger than the smell that already fills the room. As the semi-liquid runs out he spreads it with his hands over my belly and tits. He takes one tit in each hand and massages the ooze around them, squeezing and caressing them. Then he licks a pink heart shape out of the yellow-brown that covers my belly. What a romantic! His rock hard cock thrusts into my waiting cunt, his chest and belly pressing down on mine, spreading the mixture further. Within seconds we have both come, screaming and grabbing at each other, sending splashes everywhere. I throw him off me and jump up onto my knees so I can take him in my mouth again, hungrily slurping from him the mixture of shit and piss and cum until he starts to harden up again. Then I roll over, my bottom thrusting upwards. He knows what to do, and pulling my panties down further he thrusts himself into my ass. As he thrusts into me I feel the liquid oozing down my belly and I start to slither around on the sheets, his hands gripping my shoulders but slipping around also. It takes a lot longer this time before I feel him start to convulse then cry out. I've been rubbing myself all along and now I give it a little extra and join him in his pleasure. The bed is like a skating rink and we slide around together until we finish, then collapse exhaustedly side by side. We are both completely covered from head to toe in the stinking, wonderful mixture of body fluids. After a while he kneels up. I see what he wants and close my lips around his cock, greedily swallowing his rich piss, then take my lips away so he can shower my face and body with it. I have one final treat when he has finished. I turn around on the bed and lick his long-unwashed feet, savouring their unique, sweet-sour taste. I feel a tingling in my cunt but for now she is exhausted.
Time to clean up. The place is a terrible mess. I scrape up as much of the slush from the bed as I can into a ziploc bag, and slip my stockings in there as well. I'll have a good use for this tomorrow. We bundle the sheet into a bin-bag - I will have a slave take care of that too. Thank goodness for rubber under-sheets! A quick wipe and the bed is as good as new. With some reluctance, we shower together, and now we are ready for our dinner. Luckily one of my concessions to normal life is a microwave, so we heat everything up and sit there like any normal couple, staring dreamily into each others' eyes (OK, I made that bit up) as we eat our Indian takeaway. We chat about friends and stuff we've done and all that kind of thing. I remember reading once something written by a dom along the lines of "I can't imagine making someone eat shit, then going out to dinner with them". Well, I can. It seems perfectly natural to me. Why ever not? After dinner and a few more beers, we decide to spend the night together - in a clean bed. We grope and suck each other a bit but we're too exhausted from our earlier session to really get it going, and we end up falling asleep.