The Easy Mark and The Old Maid

Clancy’s changed my life. I started going down this hallway towards backroom bliss about 3 years ago when I met this Buxom Brazilian Milf who graced us with her talents on Monday and Wednesday nights. She had the cans she had the yams she had it all. She wouldn’t waste any time on the dollar parade, no my friend this bad baby has her eyes on the prize, this yummy mummy has one goal in mind, to shoot you off into the atmosphere in a euphoria where life stands still. She would lead you into the back room, which is nothing more five Lay-Z-Boys, but don’t get me wrong, nothing that happens back there is lazy. You would both run through the normal dance routines, but after the 32 second mark she’d be on her knees licking your jeans, wrapping her Brazil Melons around your shaft, stroking away with an over-the-pants TF to whatever shitty Chris Brown song is being pumped through the speakers. She would give you an otp HJ while whispering in your ear “cum for me papi.” And after it was all over she would pull up your shirt, rub your belly, and tell you everything will be okay. I was younger, I was naive, I could have asked for more but I already couldn’t believe what I was getting, and couldn’t think of a world where I could get more, and I was happy. She never remembered my name, nor I hers, but I’ll never forget what we shared together.

She might not be there anymore, but don’t get me wrong, you can still go into Clancy’s with $68 and 23 minutes and leave with your rocks on the floor.