She watched me for several minutes as I turned lights off and closed, and I wondered what she was thinking."Would you like to have coffee with me?" she finally said."Of course, where would you like to go?" thinking we'd go down the street to a local place."How about my place?" she asked. Why was this young woman asking this? I'm seventy-one, an old man twice her age with long, pure-white hair and a beard. A couple of dirty thoughts crossed my mind, but I stopped myself."OK, I'll follow you." And she got her son and herself belted in. I hurried to get my car and, as she pulled away, I followed her to this cute little house with a big yard.Dale was asleep so I carried him in for her. As we walked through to his room she kicked off her shoes and I did too. She took him and sent me to the living room. She was back out soon, closing the door softly."He's asleep," she explained walking through to the kitchen, and started making coffee. I went out to help but just stood watching her.She. It was absolute bliss, of course, to have my head absolutely surrounded by her fat thighs, thick ass, and hairy cunt, and to hear her small sounds of satisfaction as my tongue circled her asshole, delighting in the taboo taste of her anus – though I was thankful for the bidet she had recently had installed.This was also a normal occurrence in my house. I usually spent at least an hour serving my mother, my sister, and Shandy their breakfasts, and each of them would almost always use my face for their pleasure as they ate. Often, I doubled as their cleaner from the wild excesses of the night before, and this morning was no different. My body throbbed with desperate, humiliated arousal as I lapped half-dried black cum out of mother’s pussy – and the presence of the in-built dildo of the bench slowly pistoning in and out of my ass (another of those fiendishly clever innovations the bondage furniture designer we contracted came up with – each movement my mother made on the stool.
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