HOW WE SERVE MASTER

In Aunt Lillian’s defense, it’s hard to be yourself when you’re routinely getting your brains fucked out by a hung, always-hard stud.

Especially one almost 50 years younger than you.

Not that she really needs a defense.

Lesbian sex is only shameful when you want it to be. (Ahh, shameful sex. I could use some o’ that right now. Where’s Bunbun?)

But before the first time Tyler got her panties around her ankles, Lillian was a proper Old Money dowager, in whose social class lesbian sex is frowned upon or, at best, giggled at.

But then came the day Tyler said he’d so love to see Lillian fuck his old girlfriend.

Would so love it. Would so appreciate it. For me? Please. Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to make me happy?

“I make you cum so hard so often. You won’t do this one thing for me?”

You know how it goes.

And when I say “old girlfriend” I don’t mean just an ex — she was nearly Aunt Lillian’s age.

Tyler the grandmotherfucker. That bowel movement of a human being was regular, if nothing else.

After much weeping alone and more Tyler guilt tripping …

She said yes.

And fucked Agnes. Or most likely let Agnes fuck her.

Several times.

For Tyler.

Agnes eventually remembered why she hated Tyler so much and broke it off.

But for a while, my traditionalistic, old-line aunt ate some pussy and partook of all the other awful awful awfully fuckintastic joys of girl on girl.

When she told me the story last month, I asked her how she felt about her romp in the sheets with Agnes.

“It felt disgusting back then,” she said.

And now, I asked. How’s it feel looking back?

She said …

“Erotic.”

And giggled.