Cheap phone sex whores like me have no limits ever. I was born in a trailer park in rural Vest Virginia. I just married well. I can look like a classy broad, but I don’t act like one, at least not for very long. I was having dinner with my wealthy, much older husband last night. We dined at this high end restaurant frequented by celebrities and the filthy rich. My menu had no prices on it. Before him, fine dining for me was a Happy Meal. I love my husband. He spoils me and encourages my very bad behavior with our offspring. Him encouraging me to get whatever I wanted made me wet. I could only imagine that the steak I was going to eat cost more than my parents lot fee for their crappy trailer. I acted like I dropped a spoon, but instead of waiting for the help to bring me a clean one, I crawled under the table. We were seated in a dark corner; pretty sure no one was paying us much attention. I crawled between his legs, unzipped his pants and blew his cock under the table in the town’s most lavish restaurant. He didn’t last long. I have some amazing cock sucking skills. He jokes that my maiden name is Hoover. I sat back up at the table just as the waiter came to take my order. I guess I had fresh jizz dripping from my chin. The waiter smiled, got out a napkin and dabbed the man crème off my face. The wink he gave me told me he knew exactly what that thick white substance was on my face. He was definitely going to get tipped well. My husband and I had a lovely dinner with many such little excursions under the table. You can take the whore out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the whore.
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