The August morning was already a humid beast, the kind that makes your skin slick just standing still. Sweat dripped down my back as Chad, Steve, and I wrestled with the last of Chad’s college belongings. The car was packed to the gills—every inch of the trunk and backseat was claimed. Chad, our son, then disappeared inside only to re-emerge with a goddamn 42-inch flat-screen TV.
“Where are you putting that?” Steve asked, exasperated.
“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving it. Maybe we can move some stuff around in the back?”
I surveyed the impossible mess. “I doubt it, Chad.” He considered the car, then grinned. “What about in the middle of the front seat?”
“Okay, college man,” I replied, a smirk on my face. “Where do I sit?”
He had a moment of pure focus, then the answer hit him. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, opening the passenger door. He slid the TV into the center, then squeezed himself in. “See? Plenty of room. Come on, Mom, sit next to me.” I tried to slide in, but the door wouldn’t close. I’m not a big woman, but Chad, a solid six-foot, two-hundred-pound man, took up every inch of space. “It’s not me, it’s you. This won’t work. Leave the TV.”
“No way,” he countered.
“Make up your mind, it’s so hot out here.”
His eyes met mine, a heat I hadn’t seen before. “Okay,” he said, the words a low rumble. “You can sit on my lap.”
“Chad, it’s a five-hour drive,” Steve cut in.
“I know, but Mom’s light. What do you say, Mom? Would you mind sitting on my lap?”
I considered the long hours ahead, the sweat, the confinement. “Fine, but if it gets uncomfortable, we stop.” Steve agreed with a nod. “Alright, let’s get showered and hit the road.”
***
My shower was quick, but purposeful. I knew I’d be riding Chad’s lap, and I wanted to be ready. Jeans were a no-go—too tight and too hot. I found a flimsy summer dress, sleeveless and short. I buttoned it, then realized my bra showed. I took it off. I didn’t need one; even at thirty-seven, my tits were still perky. The dress ended at my mid-thigh, a teasing length. I slipped on my white panties and took one last look in the mirror. For a mother of an eighteen-year-old son, I still looked damn good. I knew my husband thought so—he was always trying to get me to spread my legs for him. The car horn broke my thoughts, and I hurried outside.
Chad was already in place. I sank down onto his lap, my bare thighs settling on his. I saw my dress had ridden up, a perfect view of my white panties. He was in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. I closed the door, a tiny, thrilling secret now contained within the car.
I could feel the contact, my skin against his. “How are you doing?” I whispered.
“Fine, Mom, you barely weigh a thing.”
I leaned around the TV to look at Steve. “Enough room to drive?”
“Sure.” He laughed. “Can you even see me?”
“Just your head, honey. Are you comfortable?”
I wiggled on Chad’s lap, adjusting my weight. “Yeah, I don’t mind this at all.”
***
The radio played, and a new sensation began. A hard, throbbing pressure against the crack of my ass. I shifted, but it only pressed harder. Chad was silent, his breathing heavy. I knew what I was feeling. His dick was getting hard, and the thought of it thrilled me. I looked down, my dress now a mere wisp of fabric. Chad’s hands were on the seat, palms down. I wondered if he could see my panties. A thrill shot through me, knowing I was making him want me. We had four more hours of this. Steve was oblivious, the TV a perfect shield.
Chad shifted, and his erection settled against the base of my spine. I wished he would just reach for me.
“How are you back there, son?” I asked, my voice a low purr.
“I’m okay, Mom. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling great,” I replied, the words dripping with double meaning. “Are your arms getting tired?”
“A little uncomfortable.”
“Here, try this,” I said, taking his hands and placing them on my bare thighs. “Is that better?”
“Yeah, a lot.”
His palms were on my skin, thumbs resting on the inside of my thighs. So close to what I wanted. I placed my hands on top of his, a feigned innocence. I started rubbing his hands, but my mind was on fire. I pushed his hands higher, feeling no resistance. He moved them with my dress as I lifted it, his fingers now on my bare skin and so close to my panties.
I moved his right hand and placed it directly on my panties. He left it there. I spread my legs slightly, and his hand slipped between them. I grabbed his hand and pressed it hard against my panties. I was wet, so wet. I wanted him to move, to do something, but he just left his hand there.
I took his hand again, moving it to the top of my panties. I pushed his fingers between the fabric and my skin, sliding his fingertips down until they grazed the top of my pussy lips. I pushed his hand lower, but my panties were too tight for him to go deeper. Finally, he got the message and moved his hand himself, finding my entrance. When I took my hand away, he left his. I raised my hips and, with my thumbs, pulled my panties down to my knees. As soon as I did this, he moved his hand and slipped his fingers in. The panties still restricted me, so he used his other hand to pull them down to my ankles. I lifted my leg to help, then spread them wide.
He sunk two fingers inside me at once. I let out a moan, deep and guttural.
“You okay?” Steve asked.
I smiled at him. “I’m fine. I thought sitting on my son’s lap would be a problem, but it’s not at all. This ride isn’t going to be so bad.”
I was talking to my husband, my son’s fingers buried inside me. “How much farther until we stop?”
“I don’t want to stop until I go a little farther,” Steve said.
“How about you, Chad, can you go a little bit farther?”
“Yeah, Mom. I can go a lot farther.”
“Good,” I answered. “The further we go, the better I like it.”
“That’s okay with you, isn’t it, honey?” I asked Steve.
“Yeah, I like the idea of not stopping.”
I turned to Chad, my eyes burning with lust. “Me too. I don’t want you to stop.”
“Chad?” Steve asked. “How are you doing with your mom on your lap?”
“No problem, Dad. Mom keeps moving around to get comfortable. She raises up to relieve the pressure.” As he spoke, he thrust his fingers deeper.
Chad’s fingers were a rhythmic blur. I pressed my hand against his, pushing him to go deeper. He got the message, sinking his fingers as far as they would go. My hips began to move to the rhythm of his fingers. I looked at Steve; if he could only see his son with his fingers buried in his wife’s pussy. My body was on the verge. Without warning, he pulled his fingers out. The disappointment was fleeting. I felt him unbutton my dress.
***
He worked his way down, and each button’s pop gave way to the cool AC air on my skin. My nipples hardened. He undid the final button and opened the dress, exposing my naked body to him. His hands roamed, cupping my tits, teasing my nipples. I arched my back, pushing my breasts into his hands.
I lifted my hips and pulled the dress from under me. He unzipped his shorts, and I raised my hips higher to give him room. I heard the zipper and felt his cock, still trapped, release. As I sat back down, his dick pressed against my bare ass.
“Everything okay, honey?” Steve asked. “Are you getting uncomfortable? Want me to stop?”
“No, that’s alright, dear. If I move just right, I think I’m going to get really comfortable. What about you, Chad? Anything you need me to do?”
He placed his hands on my hips. “Mom, if you could just raise up a bit so I can position myself better.” I knew what he meant.
I lifted my ass high. He moved one of his hands, and I started to lower myself. The head of his cock found my entrance. I lowered myself more, and he slid easily inside. As I settled onto him, his shaft stretched my pussy walls wide. I moaned.
Steve looked over. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”
As I felt Chad’s cock bottom out, I gasped, “No, no, don’t stop, I want you to keep going. I’m good for the next half hour or so. What about you, Chad?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m good. I need to lift up for a minute. Is that okay?”
“You want me to rise up with you?”
“No. Just stay on my lap, and I’ll raise you with me.” He thrust his hips, driving his cock deeper. I almost came right then.
I started riding his cock, my hips moving back and forth as I looked at my husband. “How soon do you think we can visit Chad after he gets settled?”
“Well, my work’s going to make it hard to get away, but it’s not that long of a drive. You can visit him without me.”
Talking to Steve with Chad’s dick inside me made me even more insatiable. “I understand. Don’t feel bad not coming each time I do. I’ll come as much as I can. Is that okay with you, Chad?”
“Mom, you can come as much as you want to. In fact, the more you come, the better I’ll like it.” He pushed hard into me. “How soon do you think you will come?”
“Soon, Chad. Real soon,” I whispered.
I began to ride his cock furiously. The only part of me moving was my ass. My head stayed still so Steve wouldn’t notice. I felt an orgasm building. I took Chad’s hands and pressed them to my tits. His cock deep inside me, his hands on my tits—it was too much. Wave after wave of pleasure hit me. My body went rigid. It lasted a good thirty seconds. Exhausted, I laid back against him. He wasn’t finished. He kept thrusting, and I felt him shoot his hot cum deep inside me.
“There’s a sign for a place to eat about ten miles up the road. Are you guys hungry?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, Dad, I could eat,” Chad said, a smile on his face as he looked at me. “What about you, Mom? Think you could eat something?”
“I’m pretty full, but I could eat a hot dog or something.”
I bent over to pick up my panties, and as I did, I felt Chad’s dick slip out. I pulled them up, and just before they covered me, he reached over and slipped a finger in. I gave him a playful slap on the hand. He pulled his finger out, and I finished dressing. I felt him zip his shorts.
“After we eat, how long of a drive do we have left?” I asked Steve.
“About two hours. Do you think you guys can manage that?”
“I know I don’t mind,” I told Steve. “If Chad can handle it, I can sit on his lap for another two hours. What about you, Chad?”
“Well, the first two hours went pretty fast. I imagine the next two will go just as fast, or even faster.”
“I thought at least one of you would be complaining by now.”
“I don’t have any complaints. Do you, son?”
“Mom, I wouldn’t complain even if the ride lasted longer.”
“Thank you, son. I’ll try to make the next two hours good for you.”
