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From all outward appearances, suburbia maintains the strait-laced middle-class look that belles the social ferment behind closed doors.
There is the secret use of drugs, fed by the marijuana syndrome. There is the river of alcohol flooding from door to door under the euphemism of social drinking. Then, of cause, there is the advent of swinging and illicit sex. All in the spirit of good clean fun… But where does the fun stop and the degradation begin? When one excess leads to another and another to what? When the children set as a pattern for their own lifestyle what already is the norm at home?
This is the story of a young mother, Donna Winters and her son, Tommy. It is startling as a mirror of a way of life behind closed doors. No facade. No regrets. Indeed, for them it is the norm.
The norm… For the Winters, yes. And how many other families like them?
A novel of fiction for entertainment. A page of our restless society as food for serious thought.
Riding ahead of her son, Donna Winters felt her nylon jogging shorts creeping into the split of her ass again. Ignoring it, she pedaled along the tree-shaded path, her ten-speed gliding smoothly. Ahead of her was a man and his daughter, both of them on ten-speeds, too. There was just something about him that attracted her. It was a sexual attraction, no doubt.
But because of her son, she felt she had to control her hungers, at least as much as she could. What made that difficult to do was her exceptionally long clit.
Donna’s clit was almost a full inch long, and as expected, very sensitive. When hard, she could jack on it as if it was a small cock. Her ex-husband had found it repulsive, but she gave him credit for trying. He told her it was like sucking on a tiny cock, and he refused to lick or suck her pussy, something Donna loved dearly.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.