Trolley pushing with Stella; squeaking wheels and crash, bang, wallops; her urchin brood running riot. No cash and very little credit. It’s a buy one, secrete one operation, with the offspring-from-hell as diversionary tactics.
Hubby is hung like a horse and not shy about stuffing her fuck-holes with man-meat and sperm cream. After four kids, she’s well stretched out.
Buy one, secrete one. Buy one, secrete one. She’s got enough root vegetables to feed a family of six.
I’m making pavlova; raspberries and meringues. Every time the security guard looks my way, I cream my knickers. I’m an Eton Mess.
