Let's Find Out

Frank waltzed towards the stairs, folding the piece of paper neatly and sticking it behind a picture of his young kids at Disneyland. He smiled, but then frowned, remembering that he probably left the year or two before. He sighed, and pulled out a metal cigarette case, inspecting its contests before proceeding.

Frank slowly descended the stairs, whistling along the way, when he stopped and smiled after hearing a familiar voice.

"Oh, fuck. Oh God. Shit." cried the old woman as she was being buggered from behind.

"Well, well, well..." said Frank as he watched his mother being ass-fucked by her grandson. Everyone quieted down as John stopped for a moment. "Do continue," said Frank. "I love a good ass-****. Especially of that bitch."

"Frank!" shouted Jane Doe at her son. "I never..." she continued from her compromised position.

"Did I tell you all why I left when I was 13 years old? Diane knows. It's because your ass-slut there broke my arm in three places. Usually it's the father, but in our case, it was the mother who was the abuser." Frank leaned in close to Jane's annoyed face.

"Daddy was the big-time radio host, probably fucking floozies at KTLA, while Mother Dearest here took out her frustrations on me and Diane."

"He's lying!" shouted Diane.

John rolled his eyes. It was his father spinning stories again. "Shut the fuck up, Frank." Still, he spun his grandmother around, and looked her in the eyes as he shifted orifices, seeing if there was any evasion that might lead to truth about this statement.

John hadn't really fucked anyone as old as Grandma Jane yet, and while Grandma Helen helped out a bunch yesterday, with rimjobs and the like, Jane was the former beauty queen and model, and maintained much of that beauty even in a 64-year-old package. Helen was fat and flabby, saggy and soft. A politician's wife. Jane, though, while wrinkly to a certain extent, especially on view of her completely naked figure, was more attractive than some of the women half her age. She was even in a movie back in the early '70s, her only one, where she was topless, being **** by the Devil or something, and John smiled as he remembered masturbating to that clip and was now reenacting it.

But, she avoided his glares as he fucked into her. Was Frank telling the truth? No... maybe... it didn't matter. He was playing a game. John was getting ready to finish, maybe pull out and cum on the old bitch's chest, when Frank pushed his way into the frame.

"Hold on, son," he said, cordially, as John stopped for a moment and looked at his father annoyingly. "Take some of this," he grabbed his mother's tit and slid it to the side, expertly forming a line of powder from his cigarette holder on her chest.

"What?"

"It's cocaine. Believe me, it makes the sex 1000 times better. Especially the first time."

"Really, old man, you're giving your son cocaine?" A crowd of the men had shuffled in now, and were observing the scene. "Why did you even bring it to a family reunion?"

"I bring it everywhere," he smiled, displaying his misshapen teeth.

"Frank, no!" shouted Karen.

"Quiet! Believe you me, boy, she knows all about the effects of this ****. I believe it's why you exist in the first place." He snorted some off his hand.

John looked at the line of coke. He wasn't a DARE kid, but he was a bit of a shy nerd, and a lazy one at that, with little friends or opportunity to even think about hard ****. But no one was stopping him, his mother was biting her tongue. He realized he could snort it, and everyone would accept it, especially if it was true that it would help him ejaculate, as Frank claimed.

Maybe it was a good thing, maybe it would help his overactive libido. "Okay," said John as Frank handed him a straw. He snorted it as he saw his father do and felt a sudden rush of adrenaline or endorphins or something, as Frank looked on in pride.

"Wooh!" John shouted, as the blood rushed to his head and cum exploded onto Grandma Jane's stomach and tits.

"Now it's a party!," repeated Frank, who pulled in Karen for a kiss. Someone turned on the stereo, and dance music filled the air. Not your typical 11 AM breakfast meeting.