Backseat Mommy

And I did indeed take control. Although not as a parent, but as a horny s.l.u.t.

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 c.o.c.k 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 f.u.c.k.

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.

F.u.c.k, 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 c.o.c.k 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.

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:

I wanted to make my son happy.

I wanted to get him off.

I wanted to feel his c.u.m shooting inside my p.u.s.s.y.

So...

I began riding him faster, cautiously grabbing the back of my husband's seat for support.

I didn't bounce on his c.o.c.k 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 d.i.c.k.

And just like it always worked for my husband, it now worked for my son... like father, like son... as I felt his c.u.m filling my c.u.n.t.

I let out an uncontrollable m.o.a.n, 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.

"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 a.s.s up, really f.u.c.k.i.n.g 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 c.o.c.k, not super-fast, or hard enough to make slapping sounds, but actively enough to build my o.r.g.a.s.m.

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 o.r.g.a.s.m, my very life depended on this o.r.g.a.s.m! I leaned away from my husband, leaned back against my son's c.h.e.s.t and rode his c.o.c.k like a crazy woman as I moved my hand to my c.l.i.t and started strumming.

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 m.o.a.n.e.d 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 o.r.g.a.s.m was hitting me like a thunderstorm, my c.u.m gushing out of me and flooding onto my son's c.o.c.k and l.a.p. Again I grabbed the driver's seat and pulled myself up, my son's c.o.c.k finally exiting my overheated p.u.s.s.y.

Thankfully thoughts of i.n.c.e.s.tuous s.e.x 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 o.r.g.a.s.m continued ripping through me like a tornado.

I could feel my son fumbling underneath me, likely putting away his c.o.c.k, which I realized I still hadn't seen.

I just closed my eyes and allowed the tornado of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e to spin through me, an o.r.g.a.s.m as intense as any I'd ever experienced. Partly because my son's c.o.c.k was bigger than my husband's; partly because of the taboo fact I had just f.u.c.k.e.d my son; and partly because of the crazy reality I had just f.u.c.k.e.d my son in a car with my husband mere inches away.

When he pulled in and brought the car to a stop, my o.r.g.a.s.m 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, c.u.m 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 i.n.c.e.s.tuous act suddenly hitting me like the summer heat.

I... had... just... had... s.e.x... with... my... son!

With... my... apparently oblivious husband... inches... away!

Oh... my... God!

I... am... the... worst... mother... ever!

But worse yet?

It had been f.u.c.k.i.n.g 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 c.u.m off my legs. This time the c.u.m wasn't just mine.

What had come over me?

Why had I let my son do that to me?

F.u.c.k!

Then he texted me:

That was amazing, Mommy.

F.u.c.k!

I texted back, my o.r.g.a.s.m 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 l.a.p 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 p.u.s.s.y was out of range in this position. I had found the Fort Knox of p.u.s.s.y 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.

I just stared past my husband and through the windscreen for the next few minutes until we slowed down.

Once we'd stopped, I shifted around as my back was to the door. As I did, my n.a.k.e.d p.u.s.s.y again touched down briefly on Cory's c.o.c.k, which was again hard.

My first thought was, How long has he been hard?

My second thought was, Why is it hard?

My third thought was, How many times can he get it up?

My fourth thought was, What the hell is wrong with me?

I opened the door and got out.

I stretched, thankful to be out in the fresh air... even if it was still f.u.c.k.i.n.g hot and muggy.

Alex asked, "So do you guys want to go for a hike?"

"How long?" I asked.

He walked over to a map on display and reported, "There are two trails from here. One is a mile long; the other, three."

"A mile, sure; three in this heat, no way," I answered.

Cory offered , "I need to take a lengthy washroom break, wash off some of this sweat, why don't you two go off alone?"

"Sure," Alex said, taking my hand.

We began walking and I couldn't help but glance back at my son to see if he was watching us... and he wasn't. Oddly, that made me feel unloved, which was of course ludicrous.

As we were walking along the trail I had the sudden urge to show my husband I loved him. I needed to make up for my indiscretion even if he didn't know about it, by doing something for him.

Ten minutes or so into the hike I saw a small side path and invited him, "Follow me."

He objected, "I don't think this is part of the trail."

"I certainly hope not," I purred, trying to look s.e.xy and with improper intent.

A couple of minutes later, deep enough in the woods that we couldn't be seen, I dropped to my knees and fished out his c.o.c.k. I'd considered letting him f.u.c.k me, but I didn't want him to see I wasn't wearing any p.a.n.t.i.e.s.

He gasped, "Sarah, really? Here?"

"You always say you wish I was more spontaneous," I quipped, although if he knew how spontaneous I'd already been today he would likely keel over. Plus, although we had a reasonable amount of s.e.x together and I was willing to try almost anything for him in the bedroom, anywhere else I wasn't much of a risk taker. Normally.

But today my typical insecurity, or the idea that s.e.x was only for the bedroom, seemed to be shattered after the exhilarating, taboo s.e.x I'd enjoyed in the backseat of our car. I now wanted to take risks.

Before he could say a single word I took his flaccid c.o.c.k in my mouth. I love s.u.c.k.i.n.g c.o.c.k... always have. I was a bit of a c.o.c.k s.u.c.k.i.n.g s.l.u.t in high school, figuring it was a good way to save my v.i.r.g.i.n.i.t.y for marriage. Plus, I was good at it and even enjoyed the unique taste and texture of c.u.m. Of course I ended up not saving my v.i.r.g.i.n.i.t.y after all, getting f.u.c.k.e.d by an upperclassman at the first college party I went to.

"Oh shit," Alex g.r.o.a.n.e.d, "what's gotten into you, Sarah?"

The answer to that question was 'your son,' but that didn't seem like a prudent response.

I pulled his c.o.c.k out of my mouth and asked, "Can't a wife show her husband she loves him by giving him a little surprise? Like spontaneously s.u.c.k.i.n.g his c.o.c.k and swallowing his load?"

"Yes, she can," he laughed.

"Plus I'm hungry, and your c.u.m can provide a lot of healthy nutrients for a girl's body," I quipped, taking his organic whole-grain-fed c.o.c.k back in my mouth.

"And it's good for your complexion, too," he added, having read somewhere that c.u.m was good for a woman's skin and had used the argument to give me the first of his many facials years ago.

While I'd rather swallow a load than take it on my face, since I was rather submissive I always just allowed Alex to shoot his load wherever he chose.

I protested, for the first time since my first-ever facial, "Don't you dare. Not here."

"What? You think Cory would be shocked?" he teased, sliding his c.o.c.k back in my mouth.

I thought to myself, If you only knew. Yet I kept bobbing, feeling exhilarated to be doing it in such a public place.

"I won't last long," he m.o.a.n.e.d, as I s.u.c.k.e.d his c.o.c.k hungrily.

I kept bobbing and was rewarded with a full load of his c.u.m... in my mouth thank God... although he pulled out partway through and rocketed a small amount onto my face.

I gasped, "Really?"

"I couldn't resist," he shrugged, as he slid his c.o.c.k back in my mouth.

I milked the last remnants of his c.u.m from his c.o.c.k before standing up and kissing him hard, giving him a taste of his own medicine so to speak. He didn't appear to mind which surprised me slightly.

When the kiss ended, he said, "Well, that was unexpected."

"I was hungry," I shrugged.

"Well, I'm always willing to feed you," he smiled as he tucked his c.o.c.k away.

We returned to the marked trail and resumed the hike, hand in hand.

I don't know how long it took, but eventually we returned to the starting point, and Alex whispered to me, "You should probably go to the washroom before we head out."

"Good call," I nodded, "I really have to pee."

"And maybe clean the c.u.m off your face," he added.

"F.u.c.k, you let me keep wearing it for that whole hike," I blamed him, since I'd forgotten it was there.

"Well, you didn't seem too concerned, and we don't know anyone here," he shrugged.

"Except for our son," I pointed out.

"Which is why I mentioned it," he said.

"Asshole," I said playfully, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Sounds good. Maybe tonight," he countered, since he occasionally f.u.c.k.e.d my a.s.s.

"You wish," I quipped back, even though I assumed we would indeed be f.u.c.k.i.n.g tonight, and given how submissive I was, I knew I wouldn't keep him away from my a.s.s, if that's what he wanted.

"No, I don't wish, I know," he said, slapping my a.s.s.

I went to the washroom, washed my face and went pee.

I grabbed a Gatorade and a chocolate bar and returned to the car.

My son and husband were leaning against the car, chatting. I wondered how weird it would be if they were chatting about s.e.x.

I joined them and asked, "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Cory said, before adding, "ready to endure sitting on my l.a.p for a couple more hours?"

"Ready to have your mother squishing you for a couple more hours?" I countered.

"It's been a tight squeeze, all right," he countered, smiling at me for the first time since our shocking act.

I laughed, trying to act casual, worrying that my husband might somehow sense the s.e.x.u.a.l tension between his wife and son, "Yes, it's like a hot box back there."

Cory laughed, "Yes, it's a sure-fire weight loss program."

Alex apologized to us both, "I'm sorry we didn't plan this better."

Cory joked, repeating an earlier statement I'd made, "It's enabled some special mom and son bonding."

"Well, get ready to bond some more then," Alex said, "It'll be a good two or three hours until our late supper stop."

I couldn't help but laugh, but also to feel mortified at the sordid bonding activities my husband was tacitly approving, especially when my eyes wandered to my son, who was gazing hungrily at me with a big smile on his face.

We were back in the car, I was back on Cory's l.a.p, this time perched on his right leg, leaning against the boxes.

Like the last time, he just read and ignored me for the first hour. We could have talked about anything with each other since Alex had the radio blaring again, but we didn't.

But as I began to fidget, again feeling antsy, he asked, "Uncomfortable?"

I nodded.

He nodded, "Me too," and promptly pulled his c.o.c.k out of his shorts. "There, that's a lot better."

I stared at his semi-erect c.o.c.k.

This was the first time I'd seen it since he was a little boy.

I couldn't take my eyes off it.

He pointed to my p.u.s.s.y.

I looked back at him, confused.

He moved his hand onto my leg and reached under my dress, going directly to my wet, n.a.k.e.d p.u.s.s.y.

I m.o.a.n.e.d softly, but thankfully the music covered it.

I just sat on his knee allowing my son to finger my p.u.s.s.y... which he did for a good five minutes... getting me all hot and riled. I was back in the zone again, and I knew I'd do whatever he wanted of me short of outing ourselves to his father.

He then pulled his finger out and stuck it directly in his mouth.

"Delicious," he said, loud enough that my husband heard him.

"What's delicious?" Alex asked.

"The snack Mom just shared with me," Cory replied brazenly.

"Is there any left?" Alex asked.

"No, sorry, I ate it all," Cory responded, as I remained silent, motionless and feeling I should be ashamed, but wasn't.

"I could use a snack," my oblivious husband commented, continuing our surreal conversation.

"Me too," I added, staring at my son's c.o.c.k and l.i.c.k.i.n.g my lips with wanton intent.

"Maybe at the next stop," Cory suggested.

"I'm definitely stopping soon," Alex said. "I could use a bathroom break anyway."

"God, it's hot back here," Cory complained, taking his shirt off, showcasing his rock-hard abs... an attraction my husband had lost years ago.

He then took hold of my hand and guided it to his c.o.c.k.

I should have resisted, but his magnetic pull was too much, and I didn't hesitate at all.

I took his tool in my hand and stroked it, knowing that although by now it had gotten dark, my husband could still stare at me in the rear-view mirror anytime he wished... although he would only see my hungry face through the gloom.

I wished I could suck my son's beautiful, slightly-curved c.o.c.k, but that was literally impossible within the confined space.

By this time I had fully accepted, as I stroked and stared at Cory's majestic c.o.c.k, that I was willing to allow my son to f.u.c.k me again.

I wanted that c.o.c.k inside me. I needed it.

I was ready to climb on top and go for a ride when Alex announced unexpectedly, "Pulling over."

His words and the slowing car brought me back to reality like a cold shower. A reality where I was stroking my son's c.o.c.k and about to willingly ride him.

I released Cory's c.o.c.k and to my surprise he didn't put it away as we rolled to a stop at a small-town gas station.