Christmas Cookies in July

 

“Ah, Mom, what are you doing baking christmas cookies? Its July and like 125 degrees outside. Given that, I won't ask why you're naked,” you asked your stepmom. She was clearly drunk and high, leaning against the kitchen island, swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane, a lit joint hanging from her lips.

“Welll, ihwuzz relaxin' by the pool, smokin' summ weed ann zzzrinkin' margaritas wenn the radio starred playin' chrissmas music.  Sooo i got oud the canny cane weed yoo got me fer chrissmas,” she explained, stumbling about and setting the tray down and stopping for a toke and drink.

“Ok, but what does that have to do with Christmas cookies?”, you asked, as she used both arms to support herself and let out a cloud of smoke.

“Im genn t' thad.  Sooo thad gave me the munshies, juzz nod any munshies-i wanned chrissmas cookies,” she told you.

“Ah, and now they're ready for icing?” you asked, dropping your shorts, letting your hard candy cain spring free.

“Welll, yer fazzer is outa town, ann im zzzrunk, high ann horrnny. Wee juzz wo'nn stell sanna” she decided, dropping to her knees, and began to suck your candy cane.

“Fffuck it, few promise t' save yer load fer the cookies, i'll led yoo fffuck me.”

Naturally, you helped her up onto the counter and began plowing her wet pussy. 

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