Gloria’s Free Love Revival: Hippie Retreat Orgy Unleashed

Gloria rolled up to the secluded mountain retreat in her beat-up VW van, gray dreads swinging like pendulums, patchouli and cannabis clinging to her skin. The sign read “Harmony Tantric Gathering: Connect, Breathe, Release.” She laughed—loud, throaty, unapologetic. These kids thought they invented free love? She’d lived it in Haight-Ashbury when they were still in diapers. At 68, her body carried decades of sun-kissed stretch marks, heavy tits that still swayed with purpose, and a silver bush that glistened when she got wet. Which was often.

The first night was all breathing circles and eye-gazing under string lights. Gloria stripped naked the second the facilitator mentioned “clothing optional.” Her fat ass jiggled as she sauntered to the center mat, legs spread wide, silver pubes catching the firelight. “Come on, babies,” she growled. “Mama Gloria’s here to teach you what real tantra feels like—no bullshit, no holding back.”

It started slow. A young couple—tattooed, dreadlocked—approached hesitantly. Gloria pulled the girl down first, guiding her face between her thick thighs. “Lick it like you mean it, sweetheart. Tongue my old hippie cunt deep.” The girl obeyed, slurping noisily at the slick folds while Gloria moaned, fingers tangled in dreads. The boyfriend watched, cock hardening in his loose pants. Gloria beckoned him over. “Your turn, pup. Fuck Grandma while she rides this pretty mouth.”

He slid into her from behind—wet, loose, greedy hole swallowing him whole. Gloria rocked back hard, heavy tits slapping her ribs, growling, “Deeper, baby. Pound this vintage pussy like it owes you money.” She squirted first wave across the girl’s face, hot gush soaking her chin and dripping onto the mat. The girl came too, grinding against Gloria’s thigh, leaving a wet smear.

Word spread fast. By midnight the fire pit was surrounded. Bodies tangled—men, women, all ages, all hungry. Gloria was the center. One cock in her mouth, thick and throbbing; she sucked sloppily, drool running down her chin while another railed her from behind. A petite blonde straddled her face, grinding her smooth pussy against Gloria’s eager tongue. “That’s it, grind on Grandma’s mouth. Drown me in that sweet juice.”

Hands everywhere—fingers in her ass, pinching her nipples, slapping her fat cheeks red. She took three at once: one pounding her cunt, one stretching her ass with two fingers while she jerked him, and the blonde riding her face reverse. Cum sprayed—thick ropes across her heavy tits, dripping down her belly, mixing with sweat and squirt. Gloria laughed through it all, voice hoarse: “More! Fill every hole, you beautiful freaks!”

She flipped positions, riding a muscular guy reverse cowgirl while another knelt to eat her out mid-thrust. Her silver bush matted with fluids, pussy clenching as she came again—squirting arcs that hit nearby bodies. A circle formed; she beckoned them closer, jerking cocks, fingering pussies, directing the chaos like a filthy conductor. “Line up, darlings. Grandma wants to milk you dry—one after another.”

By dawn the retreat grounds reeked of sex—cum, sweat, cannabis, earth. Gloria lay sprawled on a blanket, legs wide, silver bush glistening with multiple loads leaking from her well-fucked holes. Bodies curled around her—exhausted, satisfied, ruined for vanilla forever. She lit a joint, exhaled slow, and grinned at the rising sun. “Peace, love, and filth, motherfuckers. Who’s ready for round two?”

The retreat was never the same. Gloria had revived the old ways—raw, dirty, shameless. And she wasn’t leaving until every last drop of free love was wrung out.