MILF on Fire

The Hussy, spiders, and more.

Renee Robbins. Writes.

I’m typing this one handed.

Because I have my left hand twisted behind my back, jammed up under my bra strap clawing at the imaginary spiders. Get your mind to curb level.

My neighbors are trying to sell their house. I know because when I drove by they were showing it. Well. Also there is a sign in the front yard that says “For Sale” but if I didn’t see that I would know because the realtor is walking around on the front lawn in 12-inch spike heels trying to maintain her dignity as she has to extract each foot from the turf with some semblance of grace, which is impossible, unless you are a well-coiffed giraffe, which she is not. And the people with her, who are also not giraffes, have the “buying a house” look about them, and as I drove by singing they looked fearfully at me so…

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