And I did indeed take control. Although not as a parent, but as a horny slut.
I resumed the slow-motion riding that previously my son had been controlling.
Suddenly it wasn’t my son forcing me to ride him, it was my riding him of my own volition… because I wanted to… because I wanted him… although slowly, which only compounded my frustration as I knew I could never get off like this.
I needed to bounce on his cock and do it hard.
I needed to ride it fast.
I needed it slamming into me. I didn’t need to make love, I needed to fuck.
Yet I couldn’t do any of those things without completely giving away to my husband the shocking truth of what we were doing.
Suddenly my phone, which I had by now put on vibrate, buzzed in my hand.
I looked at it.
Fuck, I love you, Mommy.
Reading those five words… reading the most sweet, endearing… innocent even… term for being a mother… and I was a quivering, needy mess.
I couldn’t deny that I felt something powerful even as his cock slowly moved within me, even as I stared at those tender words. Talk about your mixed signals!
I loved him too. No question.
And this… this… whatever this was… only enhanced my love for him.
I convinced myself that this wasn’t wrong!
How could something wrong feel so right?
I was making my son happy, which is the goal of every mother… of every Mommy.
I struggled to control my trembling hands so I could text him too.
I love you too, son.
Another text.
I’m going to come in you Mommy.
Another text:
Just ride me a teeny bit faster Mommy.
Another text:
Please, Mommy!
I wanted to make my son happy.
I wanted to get him off.
I wanted to feel his cum shooting inside my pussy.
So…
I began riding him faster, cautiously grabbing the back of my husband’s seat for support.
I didn’t bounce on his cock like I desperately wanted to do, but I did move faster and performed my expert move that always got my husband off, as I tightened my Kegel muscles around his stiff dick.
And just like it always worked for my husband, it now worked for my son… like father, like son… as I felt his cum filling my cunt.
I let out an uncontrollable moan, made worse by the fact that my head was resting on the side of the seatback just inches from my husband’s left ear.
“You okay?” Alex asked again.
“I just really need to pee,” I replied, desperately grabbing any old excuse as my son continued spewing inside me and I continued milking him for all I could get.
“A couple more minutes,” he promised.
“Okay,” I replied, leaning up, then adding the double entendre, “much longer and I may explode.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” he said, knowing from years of travelling that when I say I have to pee… I have to pee.
My son began bucking his ass up, really fucking me now, making me tremble and gasp, “Oh, God.”
“There’s a truck stop in two miles,” Alex said, pointing out a sign.
“So close,” I replied, again a double meaning, now completely unable to hide my desperation to come, grateful he was misinterpreting what my urgency was about, as I desperately tried to come at least without screaming, and before we reached the truck stop.
Cory kept pumping his cock, not super-fast, or hard enough to make slapping sounds, but actively enough to build my orgasm.
I could feel the tide rising in me, knowing the inevitable eruption was close, when I saw the one-mile sign.
Urgency overwhelming me, I had to have this orgasm, my very life depended on this orgasm! I leaned away from my husband, leaned back against my son’s chest and rode his cock like a crazy woman as I moved my hand to my clit and started strumming.
I was thankful the music was too loud for my husband to hear the wet sounds of sex right behind him as I bounced on Cory’s cock, desperate to orgasm.
I could see the truck stop and a restaurant in the near distance, fast approaching even as I was doing the same, and I closed my eyes and rode and rode and rubbed… and rubbed and finally erupted.
“God,” I moaned loudly, allowing the word out, certain that my husband would still think I was desperate to pee, not knowing that immediately behind him I was unable to restrain my vocalisations not because of hydraulic pressure, but because my orgasm was hitting me like a thunderstorm, my cum gushing out of me and flooding onto my son’s cock and lap. Again I grabbed the driver’s seat and pulled myself up, my son’s cock finally exiting my overheated pussy.
Thankfully thoughts of incestuous sex never occurred to him. Why would it? I was in the backseat with my son as Alex reassured me, clearly concerned only about my bladder, “Thirty seconds, honey.”
“Okay, thanks,” I replied weakly, as my now unstoppable orgasm continued ripping through me like a tornado.
I could feel my son fumbling underneath me, likely putting away his cock, which I realized I still hadn’t seen.
I just closed my eyes and allowed the tornado of pleasure to spin through me, an orgasm as intense as any I’d ever experienced. Partly because my son’s cock was bigger than my husband’s; partly because of the taboo fact I had just fucked my son; and partly because of the crazy reality I had just fucked my son in a car with my husband mere inches away.
When he pulled in and brought the car to a stop, my orgasm still wasn’t complete. Yet I had to appear urgent, desperate even, like I could pee myself at any moment, so I slammed open the door, cum running down my legs, and jumped out of the car, glancing back as I began running to see my son grinning at me, his package safe and sound in his shorts… although a very clear wet patch providing visible evidence of our wrongdoing should CSI show up to investigate.
I scurried through a rustic restaurant and into the washroom, the guilt and shame of my indiscretion and incestuous act suddenly hitting me like the summer heat.
I… had… just… had… sex… with… my… son!
In… our… car!
With… my… apparently oblivious husband… inches… away!
Oh… my… God!
I… am… the… worst… mother… ever!
But worse yet?
It had been fucking amazing!
I may have been a bad mother, but I was a very good Mommy!
I got to the washroom, and for the second time today I wiped cum off my legs. This time the cum wasn’t just mine.
What had come over me?
Why had I let my son do that to me?
I could blame the confined space, but truthfully nothing had prevented me from pushing him out of me. Nothing except my own willingness to fuck him.
Fuck!
Then he texted me:
That was amazing, Mommy.
Fuck!
I texted back, my orgasm finally subsiding, finally responding to him as a mother:
That can’t happen again!!!
He didn’t respond.
So as I finished cleaning up, I texted again:
I’m serious!
He again ignored the text.
I calmed down at least physically, and realized I was feeling completely dehydrated after my workout.
I left the washroom and saw my husband and son chatting as they waited for me at a booth.
We ate lunch, and although I was anxiety-riddled the entire time, my son had a poker face as he gave away no sign of what had transpired. I, on the other hand, had guilt written all over my face.
Twice Alex asked if I was okay.
I just feigned hunger and exhaustion from needing to hold my pee for so long.
After lunch, and a lot of water, we prepared to continue the drive.
Alex had gassed up while I was in the washroom, so we were ready to go.
Again, my trepidation overwhelmed me.
Now what? How could I sit on Cory’s lap again?
Yet, I couldn’t say anything; there was literally no alternative.
So, I sat. Although this time, once the door was closed, I positioned myself leaning against the door and stretching my legs between the two front seats. My pussy was out of range in this position. I had found the Fort Knox of pussy protection.
And for an hour it worked. Cory read the new James Patterson book and I read the other new James Patterson book (he apparently puts out a new book more often than the Red Sox lose another game). Interestingly, Cory and I had a lot of common interests, including being avid readers and both having the same favourite author in James Patterson.
Sit in any single position for a straight hour though, and the rear becomes a mutineer. Yet, even though I was very uncomfortable, I refused to reposition myself, although I did begin to squirm a bit.
Suddenly my son’s hand was resting on my knee, my dress hiked up enough to show him a fair amount of leg.
His hand didn’t move up my leg, it just rested there as a constant tease… a constant reminder.
He did move his hand away to flip a page every couple of minutes, although he didn’t replace it any higher when he returned it.
He seemed oblivious to the impact it was having on me, a constant distraction, even though it wouldn’t have fazed me at all a few hours ago.
“How you guys doing back there?” Alex asked a few minutes later.
“My bum is numb,” I joked, although it was the truth.
“There’s a scenic stop in three miles,” he said, “let’s pull over and take a little hike.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Yeah, I could use a stretch,” Cory agreed, looking at my face almost for the first time during the entire drive.
I quickly looked away, like I was in seventh grade and waiting for a boy to check yes or no on a love note I’d just passed him.
What had come over me?
Even though I had told him it couldn’t happen again.
Even though he seemed to be respecting my decision.
I now felt insecure and annoyed that he was ignoring me… I felt like I was fifteen again.