Neil Young was right. Welfare mothers do make better lovers. Divorcee!
So there I was doing my laundry when a young mother entered. She was pushing a shopping cart full of dirty clothes and her baby was in it too. Just then the music that was playing, started to play Neil Young’s song. Well that young mother let go of that shopping cart, lifted her arms up over her head and started gyrating her hips to the music…and then she started singing along with the song. She had a very nice voice. I watched her dancing around and singing for the entire song. When the next song came on she stopped and pushed her cart near me and then she started loading a washer.
I said, “You sing very well.”
She replied, “I love that fucking song. I am a welfare mother and I can assure you that I make a better lover.”
She looked like an angel, talked like a truck driver, and acted like a hooker. I just watched her as she loaded two more washers, put in the detergent, and then started searching for some quarters. Another song came on that she liked and she went back into her song and dance routine. That girl sure could move. Sometime during that song she squatted down causing her miniskirt to rise up high on her thighs. She turned giving me a rather nice view of her pussy. She was not wearing any panties. She stood, her hands went under her T-shirt, and she brought it up almost to her nipples showing off the smooth underside of her breasts. As she turned around I saw her tramp stamp. It was some sort of scrollwork with barbs or fishhooks at the points.
I had absolutely nothing to loose so I said, “Nice tramp stamp.”
She smiled at me and said, “It had better be. I let the guy fuck me three times as payment. Did you get to see the one on my pussy?”
Damn she knew that I had seen it so I said, “No. I didn’t get that good of a look. I was distracted by your bald pussy.”
She then walked right up to me and lifted the front of her miniskirt up to her waist and allowed me to look directly at her shaved pussy. Tattooed on her love mound were the words “Welfare Mothers.” She then pulled her pussy lips apart opening them up enough for me to read, “Make Better Lovers.”
Oh my God, she really did believe it.
I said, “Very nice tattoo and an even nicer pussy.”
She replied, “If you put the quarters in my washers and then in my dryers, I’ll let you fuck me.”
I knew very well that I could catch a sexually transmitted disease or AIDS and maybe even die, but God help me I wanted to fuck that young mother more than I had wanted anything in years. So I took a bunch of quarters out of my pocket and started putting them in her three washers, eight in each machine. Now I needed more quarters so I walked over to the machine on the wall and read the instructions, it took five-dollar bills and I had four of them in my pocket. I stuck them all in and wound up with a very heavy pocket full of quarters.
She sat near me and made small talk. Then when a good song came on she gyrated with the best of them. She could be a stripper if she wasn’t all ready. She flashed me her breasts, her pussy, and her ass on many occasions.
Our washers stopped, our dryers got filled, and I put in quarters, six for each machine. Eventually they stopped and we each folded our clothes.
She said, “Talk me to your house and I’ll let you fuck me.”
I said, “I’ve got a roommate.”
She laughed and said, “He can fuck me too.”
I replied, “I don’t think my wife would like that.”
She smiled and said, “You would be surprised at what a frustrated house wife will do.” She thought a moment and said, “Hey, I didn’t see any women’s clothing in you laundry.”
It was my turn to laugh and say, “They are my work clothes. My wife won’t let me put them in her washer.”
Again she laughed and asked, “What would she say to you putting your cock in my cunt?”
I whispered, “I won’t tell her.”
She said, “Okay, you can come home with me. I have a roommate too, but she won’t mind.”
She said that she didn’t need the shopping cart if I could give her a ride home. I did.
She carried her baby and I carried her laundry up three flights of stairs. There was no elevator.
Her roommate was as pretty as she was and asked, “Hey bitch, when did you start bringing your Johns home?”
She shouted back, “He’s not my John but I’m going to let him fuck me.”
The roommate shouted, “Bitch” then she went into her bedroom and slammed the door.
The young mother took me over to a couch and removed her T-shirt and miniskirt. After kicking off her shoes she sat on the edge of the couch, tossed me a condom, and leaned back.
She said, “Gloria doesn’t like it when I get cum in her food.”
I asked, “What.”
She giggled and said, “The bitch likes to eat my pussy but she hates the taste of cum. So use the fucking rubber.”
That condom was probably going to save my life and that of my wife because I was definitely going to fuck that beauty.
I undressed as she watched me, I rolled the condom over the length of my erection, and then I slipped it into her tattooed pussy. I was very happy that she had insisted on me wearing one because it helped prevent the spread of disease and it reduced the feeling enough for me to really enjoy fucking her. Otherwise I might have blown my load too early.
I pushed my cock into her several times trying to remember the last time that I had cheated on my wife. It had been many years. It was with a woman that I had worked with but she quit soon afterwards.
I was pretty sure that I wasn’t giving her much pleasure but she could sure put on a good act. Welfare mothers make better lovers. She was living up to her standards. She cooed, she moaned, and she told me what I wanted to hear, that I was the biggest that she had ever had, that I was the best that she had ever had, and that I was giving her orgasms, lots of orgasms. It was a crock of shit but I listened anyway. She was almost making me believe that I was the best lover in the whole world. Then I started filling the tip of the condom. That was when she started bucking up at me in what appeared to be a real orgasm…but who knows.
I pulled the condom off and got dressed as I watched her empty that condom into her mouth.
She giggled and said, “I’ll kiss her after you leave.”
I thanked her and said, “Welfare mothers do make better lovers.”
As the door closed she whispered, “I know.”
I walked down the three flights of stairs, got in my car, and drove home.
The house was dark and empty. My wife had died a year ago. I put my clothes away and then I took a shower. I washed my cock twice to make sure that it was clean. I didn’t want to die from sex even if it was the best sex that I had ever had.