Ben is to service Lisa

I wondered as well what this beautiful, but stern, forty-something woman wanted us to do in respect to her son's reckless behavior. I was about to find out.

She turned to look Lisa in the eye, saying, "I'd like him to learn that a woman is more than a receptacle for his raging hormones when they get out of control. That a woman has needs and desires that need to be fulfilled as well!" she said, casting Ben a cold glance. "I'd like him to learn from you how to service, to please, a woman orally."

I could have sworn I saw the raven-haired beauty rub the back of her hand against her left breast as she told my wife her plans for her son's further punishment and education. I then looked to my wife. Her eyes were wide as she listened to our backyard neighbor.

Lisa then turned to me, as if to question her role in this.

"Whatever you think best, honey," I softly expressed to her as she sat beside me. "Think of it as a service to the sisterhood," I added, trying to make light of the unusual request. "One more young man will go out in the world knowing how to eat pussy," I chuckled.

I noticed my lovely wife blushing a little. After the events of the last twenty-four hours, I didn't think that was possible. She whispered to me. "But my pussy is soaked with cum," she responded, lightly grazing the sparse crotch of the ragged cutoffs she still wore with her small hand.

"Well, it won't be for long," I answered with a little conspiratorial wink.

"Very well, Ms..." Lisa started, trying to sound business-like as she approached this odd offer.

"Ms. Franklin, but call me Martha," the woman said, with the beginnings of a smile when she realized Lisa was about to accept.

"I just feel odd doing this with you here, Martha," she admitted.

"I understand. Your husband and I could keep an eye on things from a discreet distance."

"Well, where shall we go, handsome?" Lisa asked Ben as she got up from her seat and approached him, smiling sexily to try and put the obviously uncomfortable nineteen-year-old at ease.

"Why don't we go back to the scene of the crime?" Martha interjected. "After all, the only people that can see into your backyard are already here!" she smiled as she looked at both of us.

The four of us headed for the backyard patio. Martha stopped me as she looked out the kitchen window. The chaise could be seen easily by the sparkling surface of the inground pool.

"This looks like a good place, Steve!" she smiled.

We each pulled up a stool from beside the kitchen's center island. Through the wide pane of glass, we watched my wife in her tiny crop top and cutoffs and her son in his calf-length shorts and sleeveless tee as they stepped into the late day sun, the back door closing behind them.

"This seems a little wicked," I said, "but, would you like a refreshment?" I asked, as if we were settling down for a movie or a show. Well, I guess it will be a show.

Martha laughed heartily, understanding my reference. "I could use a beer, if you don't mind, Steve," she said in answer as she turned to me as I headed for the refrigerator.

'Not as rigid as I thought,' I mused as I popped the caps off of a couple of cold brown bottles and brought over a couple of recently unpacked pilsner glasses.

"This may take a while," I informed Martha as I poured the amber liquid into the two glasses. "My wife isn't a quick one with the orgasm," I said, from previous experience. Though, I thought to myself , that hadn't been the case recently.

"More the better!" Martha responded, lifting the glass in a toast before she aimed it towards those sexy red lips.

I responded in kind, savoring the cold brew as I swirled it in my mouth before letting the **** slide down my throat. I sat and watched the odd couple outside.

Ben towered over my darling wife nearly a foot, but by the body language, it was easy to see who was in charge out there. My wife stood before him, her hands on her hips, her weight cocked to one side. Though I could not hear her, with the air conditioning running and the house sealed tight, it was easy to infer.

As they stood beside the chaise where my wife had Ben's girlfriend eat her, she prepared him to do the same. I saw her gesture to him, and he pulled off his shirt to reveal a smooth hairless torso, youthfully chiselled. She gestured more emphatically after that, finally nodding her head towards our house. After glancing quickly towards the window his mother and I sat behind, he quickly doffed the over-sized shorts and his checked boxers and stood before her nude.

I watched her stroke the neighbor boy's slowly rising hardon absently as she gestured to herself. He slowly, tentatively, lifted the flimsy cotton tank top up, my wife obligingly raising her arms in assistance. I could see Ben's eyes flutter as he looked at the perfect upturned teacups of my wife's tits. She really didn't have anything to fret about in that department. Though smallish, they showed no sag, looking like a college girl's.

Lisa gestured down to the vicinity of her flat little belly. He nervously fumbled with the metal stud at the fly. When he finally undid it, the material parted, and the scraps of thread-bare denim fluttered gently to her feet.

She stepped out of the cum-encrusted cutoffs and drew one sexy leg over the chaise lounger. Straddling it where the hinges allowed the back to recline, she slowly crouched into a sitting position on the soft cushion, her leg muscles showing sexily from her saucy stance.

Watching her ease her back against the cushion, I saw her motion for Ben to lie on the flat part below where she sat. As he proceeded to do so, his cock waggled beneath him. I could see Lisa issuing further instructions as he crawled forward, his lower body against the seat cushion.

The sight of this young college guy basically being **** into going down on my wife was causing me yet another spectacular woody. As I continued to be drawn into the erotic spectacle happening out under the sun before us, I hoped Martha wasn't aware of my 'appreciation'. I cast a quick glance over to her as I tried to adjust the big guy into a less noticable position. Her eyes had followed my hands.