For Her Gay Son She Gets Sweet Hell

Things are getting dangerous out there. I refer, of course, to the passions of political correctness. Like about sex.

This is not about me. A guy I see occasionally told me.

It is a warm, inviting June evening in East Hampton, where I live, and my friend is at a small party on his private terrace over the bay (costs less than over the ocean).

Not super comfortable, for him, right now-except wine and martinis, your choice, and evening settling in peacefully...

He and his wife, Selena, have guests: Selena's friend, Karen, her husband, Michael, and their big, strapping gay son in his twenties, Peter. Comfortable chairs, chaises if desired, drinks and snacks all around. Some perfect pink and orange clouds over the far reaches of Peconic Bay.

Why not super comfortable? Well, Karen is woman in her early fifties, strikingly attractive in a fashionably skinny way. Her dirty blond hair is clipped short. Though small and slender, she has failed to suppress her full boobs, still firm hillocks with nipples pressing for attention under her blouse. But about that she gives not a poop, right now.

My friend, Bill, is in his early forties. Good-looking, athletic. He does not approve of gays. He has reasons he claims come from his experience as editor of a journal on brain science. He does not dislike gays; but he thinks that clearly they have a "disability" (missing a piece of the brain that motivates reproductive behavior) but deserve no prejudice or discrimination, at all. Imagine how pleased gays are to hear that.

Unfortunately, Karen has heard from Selena, who has known Karen since summer camp in the seventh grade, when they first got together to sneak into the woods to meet guys from a boy's camp.

Karen, who never dreamed of having a gay son, is like a lioness about Peter, over-the-moon with indignation at Bill's view of gays. She could kill this less-than-human bigoted jerk.

And now, this enticing evening, lifting the Chardonnay, she is going on and on—in her charming, lightly humorous, viciously castrating way—about how she LOVES Bill, of course, but he is SO homophobic, full of fears, deeply insecure about his manhood. She laughs, jokes about the size of his dick, and says Bill, a benighted male supremacist—would rather DIE than suck Peter's cock-just to take a silly example.

Bill's wife, Selena, nods. She is with Karen. Yes, Bill has "nice qualities," but enlightenment about LGBTQIA is not one of them.

She listens sympathetically as Karen stomps all over Bill's masculinity. Peter, the young gay guy, is twice as mature as anyone else. His mother is raving on, talking as though Peter gives a shit about a blowjob from Bill, and Peter is still able to enjoy the evening. His "disability" is limited to inclination to reproduction.

Suddenly, Bill is saying, in keeping with the evening's banter, "I would be intrigued to suck a man's dick."

"Oh, yeah!" snorts Karen with a horse laugh.

Bill says, "If Peter takes it out and orders me to go down, I go down."

Karen's lovely, refined face, with the cute blond pixie cut, is now flushed bright red. Before she can say anything, Bill says, "It's a boner fide offer."

"Karen's little body is now animated. She rises to her feet, "Don't make a joke out of this Bill!"

"Getting me hot," says Peter, with a grin. He must be the most lad-back guy on the planet.

As I said, Bill is a shapely guy, good-looking—and not all straight guys offer a gay guy a blowjob.

Karen is recovering. Regaining her footing. She says, her voice trembling a little: "Sure, if it's okay with Selena. You are excused! Go and do it!"

"No," says Bill, shaking is head. "Nope. This was a public challenge. I must do it here. Show no embarrassment. Right where you can watch and see I'm doing it right."

For the first time, we hear from Karen's husband, Michael, a kindly country doctor with a practice in Newport, Rhode Island. He is chuckling with appreciation of what life brings. He says: "It's a boner fide offer, Karen. It's a challenge." (One has a sneaking suspicion that Michael has had it up to here, or even higher, with Karen's preaching.)

"I'm okay with it," says Selena, rolling her eyes as she looks at Bill.

Karen is going berserk: "So I have to watch, while..."

Her son, Peter, who should be freaking out, says calmly, "You don't have to watch it, Mom. We'll forget. Points for Bill."

Karen is lowering herself into her chair, reaching for the wine. It is a climactic moment.

Bill says, "While do it, I want to be able to look at Karen's tits. That's what turns me on. Just like sucking Peter's dick turns him on. It's all natural and okay."

"Oh, fuck off!" Karen yells.

"Well, Mom," says Peter, "you asked Bill to drop all his inhibitions. I mean this is a first time, for him, but not the first you've been nude with guys..."

No one comes to poor Karen's defense. She always needs to come out on top. She stands still for moment, upright, hands on her hips, the unruly boobs pressing indignantly against her mauve T-shirt. She is one cute women, but now beaten. She shrugs and says, "Sure, I'm in all the way."

She adds, weakly, "I take if all off, now?"

Bill stands up, shrugs off his shirt, pushes down his pants and briefs with one shove. Kicks them off. He is standing naked. Karen's jokes about his dick were off the mark. Peter looks over with a slight smile. It is impressive equipment.

Bill walks over to Karen. Without a word, he strips her as she steels herself not to resist. Karen has been stripped countless times. And the result has been adoration. She knows what she has.

Bill is leisurely inspecting her, now. The long slender legs rising to her flat belly with a thicket of blondish curls over a demure dark slit, the contours of her rising torso, and then the tits as firm as big scoops cold ice cream. And by now, her pink-orange nipples are stiff. Nothing she can do about that. Bill gives her a slow kiss, squeezes one statuesque boob, and says, "So brave!" He adds, "Now lie back on the chaise lounge and dangle one leg over each arms so you show everything to us.

Selena has been watching. She gets what her husband is doing. She remembers summer camp and some variety on those nights in the woods. She says, "I can do Karen's puss."

Karen's legs are giving away. She flops back on the chaise. Slowly, as though they are lead, she lifts her legs over the arms, and gives a long sigh. "You want to eat me, Selena?"

"Sure," says Selena.

Closes her eyes. Goes limp.

Right with the program, not saying much, Peter has shoved down his trousers and briefs. He has a long pecker, thick, standing up.

Karen opens her eyes. She glance at him, glances away. Then back. She probably never has seen him hard. She begins to say, "Wow," but gets a grip. Because now her best girlfriend, Selena, is half-lying at the other end of the chaise lounge, leaning on her elbows, facing Karen's wrenched open breach. She says, "Just pull your pussy lips as far apart as you can, sweetie." Peter is watching her; Karen turns to look at him, and their eyes meet. As her fingers go into the fur and tentatively pull aside the curtains, Peter is examining her pink petals with a frown of interest.

Bill looks up from where he is kneeling between Peter's thighs, and smiles conspiratorily. He says, "Never done, this." He has taken the hefty flesh in his hand, gazing down at it, shaking it. Experimentally, he drags down Peter's foreskin to look at his swollen strawberry.

"Okay," Bill sighs. His head comes forward and the long dick slowly slides into his mouth. He is looking up at Peter because he knows from porn sites what you are supposed to do: Look, I'm down on my knees with your prick in my mouth.

Karen has turned again to watch. The thing is huge! How has Bill taken almost it, his lips stretched around it, head bobbing. He turns his head slightly to grin at Karen. His long, lingering, rude stare makes Karen turn red, pout, cross her hands over her cunt.

Peter cries out, "Look, Mom!"

Karen looks, but Selena has attacked with an all-out licking and flicking Karen's super-sensitive wet labia. "Beautiful, Petie," is all Karen can manage to croak. Her head flops back, eyes shut, panting. She uses her thighs over the arms of the chaise to lever up her loins, the tanned belly lifted with the perfect belly button in the center, pushed harder at Selena's face.

Selena is a thoughtful girl. She becomes aware, even with her face burrowing into Karen's womanhood, that nobody is paying any attention to Karen's hubby, Michael. She pauses, turns her slimed face to grin at Michael, and jerks her head to summon him. When he is standing next to the chaise, she attacks his belt and zipper, although he says in his mellow way, "Not necessary, Selena!"

But he does not resist. Selena has his pecker out, manipulating it like crazy even as she goes back gobbling Karen. Then, she switches, taking Michael's hard shaft in her mouth, bobbing up and down on it, again and again, and teasing under the underside of his penis with the tip of her tongue. He gives a moan, puts the palm of his hand on Selena's head as though to steady himself.

"No," Karen whines, "don't stop for heaven's sake!" Selena swivels back to her pussy. Her hand still jerks Michael. This girl has seen a few porn videos and learns fast. Might have a future, there. Sweat is all over Karen's taut, tense body, running down to her belly.

No one knows how long has passed. Probably only a minute.

But Peter is standing at one side of the chaise, Bill at the other, both with dicks brushing back against their navels. Bill says, "Okay, we'll take over, now."

Michael turns, glances down at his wife's body. Karen opens her eyes. Her nipples are as stiff as half-hammered nails. "What?" she asks, half dazed.

Peter looks down, his fingers dandling his stiff prick. "Mom," he says, "Mom, Bill did me. He did me like crazy! But I couldn't come. Mom, you are so beautiful! So perfect..."

In Karen's eyes is panic, confusion. She is obscenely exposed. The splayed thighs, her pink pussy architecture on display, the abrupt fur over her mound, the long torso, and then the shameless thrusting hillocks. And over that final mountain range is glimpsed the inexpressibly cute face.

Selena has got Karen's cunt throbbing. Bill puts his hand on Selena's shoulder, pushes her aside. She shrugs, rises, takes Michael's prick like a handle, leads him to the other chaise lounge.

Karen is panting. She can't keep her loins still. "What the fuck are you guys fucking doing!"

She glances at Peter, his hard-on now so close she could reach out and grab it. She realizes suddenly: "You didn't come, Petey?"

He shakes his head, sadly. Just then, Bill is grabbing Karen's thighs, dragging her off the chaise. Stepping back, he is dragging her. She yelps, "What are you doing?" As if she doesn't know.

Bill doesn't stop till he has lifted her wide-open pussy and pressed it against his belly. Her slender legs are around his waist. Actually, her head is about to flop off the chaise. No problem. She has done yoga for decades. Her hands go down to the ground, her body makes a smooth arc up toward Bill. Her tits are pulling slightly to each side. Her belly is rounded, pressing up, the belly button the highest point.

Bill adjusts her weight, yanking her, flexing his own body, and then she abruptly cries out: "Oh, oh, oh!"

She is being bounced, now, Bill's prick shoved in and pulled out. Once he gets the rhythm, he can do it harder and he does.

"Kill it!" Karen sobs. "Kill my cunt! Hurry, Billy! Do it! Fuck me!" This woman can't stop talking even when she is coming toward a monster orgasm.

She hears the chaise scape back. Her face upside down, she looks back, orienting herself. Peter is kneeling there, now, his prick inches from her helpless face. She moans, "Oh, shit!:

Peter just flexes his hips. All of it-pecker, thick hair, thighs, belly—buries her face. Her shrill cries are muffled, but "up there" somewhere her loins are frantically beating on Bill's cock.

At that moment, at the other chaise, Selena is glancing up at Michael with a wild grin, her sweet lips engulfing him. She lifts her face for a moment to laugh. She orders: "Come on, Michael! Pay attention!" No use. Her hand reaches up to lock on his balls and mash them together in his bag without mercy.

She knows he needs this so he can focus, stop obsessing about the mad violation of his wife. With her fist rolling his balls, even as her sweet, grinning lips suck him, he loses it. Selena feels it happening and releases his prick. She lifts her sweet, perfect face to him. Gout after hot gout fires into her mouth, which is wide-open, inviting it..

Michael is half-groaning, half-growling as he jerks himself.

At the other chaise lounge, Peter has drawn back, unburying his Mom's poor face. She gasps for air. but, a second later, is crying out, "No, no, no" as though she is being stabbed in the cunt. Her eyes have gone round, her mouth an "O," as she comes.

At the same moment, the gouts of Peter's hot cum start hitting her face, one across her lips, one over her eye, and a horseshoe shaped one drooping over her cute nose.

"Yes, yes, yes," she babbles. She's crazy. One hand whips off the ground, as she nicely supports herself with the other, and grabs Peter's package. She is masturbating him for the last drops of cum. But it feels like she's tear everything off.

"Mom, no!" Peter pleads.

But Bill is still working on coming, his hips battering Karen's delicate flower of flesh. Her slender body is bouncing, thrown arching outward and away, falling back.

"Oh, stop! Pleeaase!" Karen is crying. She is groping up with one hand, fingers spread. "Please! My pussy! Oh, please!"

Hanging upside down, helpless, her stinging, aching twat somewhere she can't even see, she begins to weep, her head rocking back and forth in disbelief this is happening.

Peter pulls her wet face toward him, tenderly cradling her, her lips squashed against his dick, which already is getting hard, again.

He looks up at Bill: "When you're done, let me take her like that, too. I never fucked her." He adds, "Don't worry about all this bitching and moaning. Just give it to her."

"Right," says Bill with a grin. Karen's long slender body is abruptly arched like a bow as she is flung forward as though hit in the small of the back with a sledge hammer.

"Please!" she shrieks.

And then, she lets go an utterly unidentifable noise, an animal sound of eviscertation. Suddenly, her luscious legs are pumping in wild protest.

What did you do, to her" asks Peter, looking up, startled.

Bill holds up four glistening wet fingers. "She needed it in her asshole, too. I tried to see how far down I could go."

"Oh, sure!" says Peter, with a grin. "Keep doing it."