Do you need a phone sex hotline this holiday season? I think we can agree that 2020 sucks. I can make anything better. I always say there is nothing some pussy and weed cannot cure. Sex and MaryJane are my coping skills. This year has been stressful, and I am ready to say good riddance. I have been celebrating the end of the year early. I went into the Bronx the other night. I slum on occasion because in comparison to the upper Manhattan crowd, the Bronx folks know how to have fun. There is this working-class bar I frequent because the bartender can get me the best weed in the state. I know he is over charging me, but I can afford it. Plus, it is an excuse to be in this bar where I have met some of the best lays of my life, outside my own family of course. It is not I am tired of fucking my sons or my stepsons. It is more that I can fuck their dicks raw because I have a voracious sexual appetite. It takes an army of lovers to keep this phone sex milf satisfied. And this working-class bar in the Bronx has lost of young hung working class heroes to make me a happy slut wife. I saw the bartender first to secure my weed, then the drinks were flowing. There were a few repeat customers there I have been intimate with before. A few shots of Jager and this New York housewife was getting gang banged on a pool table in the back. I entertained a few dozen working class Joes in the dark corners of that bar, then Ubered back home with a pussy and ass full of cum. My daughter cleaned up my fuck holes and my sons just dirtied them up again. I got fucked the way I needed; they got a bit of a reprieve. It was a good night.
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