A poem for the working mother

If I were a stay at home mother, I’d give BJs like no other.

The house would be clean, dinner cooked. “Here Schnookums, sit down, relax with a book.”

If I stayed home, the kids would be sweet. They’d fight over nothing. Their rooms would be neat.

I’d dress them in clothes you’d know I’d made by hand. Each little collar would have stitched a “domestic” brand.

The things I would do if I were home all day long!

I’d bake pies and cookies and have weekly meal plans. We’d have HBO, Netflix and of course, On-Demand.

I’d wait for your paycheck on bated breath. The thought of your cock would always make me wet.

If I were a housewife your life would be great! You’d be adored and respected. For sex- you’d never wait.

But sadly for you, I’m a working mother. I clock out of one job and start in on another.

No BJs for you ’til everything’s done. And who am I kidding? Sometimes, you take forever to cum.

The dishes are stacked high, the dog peed on the rug.  You want your dick sucked? Well, I need a hug.

I work all day and I hate every minute. But the kids need shoes and clothes and food. So I’m in it to win it.

When we were first dating, I promised the world but having a job has jaded this down home girl.

I’m sorry my darling,

Most days you’re forgotten and saved until last.  “Tonight if you wash the dishes, you can put it in my ass.”

*ding

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