The year was 2001, and the air hung thick and heavy with summer humidity. Forty-five wasn’t old, not really, but the way I felt trying to navigate this chaotic packing job, I could’ve sworn I was pushing seventy. I glanced at our beat-up station wagon, affectionately nicknamed “The Whale,” crammed to the gills with Mike’s worldly possessions. Boxes teetered precariously, bags overflowed, and his ancient TV – a relic from the Stone Age – hogged the front passenger seat.
“Seriously, George,” I said, crossing my arms and pushing my chest out, partly from annoyance, partly because, well, why not? “Where in the ever-loving hell am I supposed to sit? I feel like I’m about to be buried alive in college textbooks!”
George, bless his heart, was wedged behind the wheel, looking about as thrilled as a dog at a cat convention. “Well, honey,” he said, peering at me through the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. “Mike’s stuff kinda took over. Maybe you can squeeze in back with him? Or, you know,” he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye, “you could always sit on his lap.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was secretly pleased he still found me attractive after all these years. “Oh, ha-ha, very funny, George. I’m sure Mike would just love that. I bet he’s just itching to have his old mother sit on him for hours.”
Mike, who was attempting to Tetris a box of band posters into the remaining space, groaned. “Mom, please don’t even joke about that. This is already a level of awkward I wasn’t prepared for.”
“Aw come on, Michael, I’m not that bad am I? And it’s been a long time since you heard it, but I still got it.” I teased. “You always were my little man, but you gotta deal with grown up problems sometimes.”
I surveyed the backseat situation again. It was like an archeological dig gone wrong. Sighing dramatically, I decided to bite the bullet. “Alright, alright, I’ll squeeze back there. But if I get a crick in my neck, George, you’re paying for a massage.”
I carefully maneuvered myself around boxes of comic books and vintage action figures, finally managing to perch myself, somewhat ungracefully, on Mike’s lap. “Okay, kiddo, try not to breathe too deeply. I don’t want to suffocate you.”
He chuckled nervously. “No promises, Mom. This is… cozy.”
Cozy was an understatement. My summer dress, a little shorter than I usually wore, had ridden up a bit, and I could feel the warmth radiating off him. The road was predictably bumpy, and every pothole sent a little jolt through the car, causing me to shift uncomfortably. I tried to keep my weight centered, but it was like trying to balance on a greased pig.
After about an hour of this, I twisted around to check on Mike. “You okay back there, honey? You look a little… flushed.”
He was beet red. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He was avoiding eye contact pretty hardcore. “Y-yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Just… a little warm, maybe?”
“Well, roll down the window, for crying out loud! We don’t want you getting heatstroke back there.” I reached to crank down my window, but he stopped me.
“No, no! It’s okay, I’m good. Really.” His voice was a little strained.
I studied him for a moment, my mom-radar tingling. Something was definitely up. Then another particularly nasty bump in the road happened, and I felt it. A definite… something pressing against my backside.
My eyes widened. Oh. Oh dear.
He cleared his throat, his voice barely a whisper. “Mom… I… uh…”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Mike? Is everything… alright?”
He stammered, looking anywhere but at me. “Y-yeah, Mom, it’s just… the road is bumpy, and… well, you’re kinda… you know…”
I fought back a smile. The poor kid was mortified. I feigned ignorance for a moment longer, just to savour the look on his face.
“Mike,” I said gently, turning to face him fully, my voice low. “Honey, you can talk to me. What’s going on?”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. “Mom, with all due respect, and this is as awkward for me as it is for you, and I assure you it’s a lot, but your butt is kinda grinding on my…” he trailed off, mortified.
I was trying so hard not to laugh that my cheeks hurt. “Oh my!” I said, doing my best to sound shocked. I had to sell this. “Oh dear, Mike, I am so sorry. I had no idea!” I turned back to face forward so he could not see me trying not to laugh.
He could see my hands though, gripping the side of the chairs. “Mom? Are you laughing?”
“No!” I said. “I would never laugh at my son in this situation.”
“But you are. I know you are.”
“Alright, alright, maybe a little, but only because it’s so very very awkward. And also a little bit funny. But mostly awkward. Also flattered.” I said as I felt him throb under me, he really is a big boy now and a man, I started to feel wet, what the fuck is wrong with me.
We started to drive along a coble road, oh no. The car lurched violently, each bump sending a fresh wave of mortification – and something else entirely, a strange, unsettling flutter in my stomach – through the car. Mike groaned again, a sound that was definitely not entirely discomfort. It wasn’t just Mike feeling it I could feel my pussy rub against him. I let out a little whimper god it felt good, to which Mike heard, “oh fuck.”
“You’re both ok back there,” he said turning the radio slightly up.
“Yeah.. we…” car hit a bump, “umm… we fine… turn the music up.” I had a plan to get rid of his boner, I looked over my shoulder and saw his eyes glazed like he was turned on. “Sweetie, want me to help with… it.”
His eyes widened, like a kid on Christmas morning excited, “What do you mean.”
My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think you know what I mean, you have had a girlfriend before.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Mom, that’s… I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Dad is right there.” He gestured vaguely towards the front of the car.
I smirked. “Your Dad is oblivious, bless his heart. Besides,” I leaned in even closer, my breath tickling his ear, “who’s going to know? It’ll be our little secret.”
“Are you sure, Mom?” he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of apprehension and arousal.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, the gravity of what I was suggesting hitting me like a ton of bricks. This was insane. This was wrong. This was… exciting? I tamped down the burgeoning guilt, focusing instead on the flush on his cheeks, the desire burning in his eyes.
“Positive,” I breathed, my own voice trembling slightly. “Just… try to be discreet.”
I discreetly adjusted my position, subtly lifting myself a fraction to give him some room. I lifted my summer dress ever so slightly and I felt him get his cock out, and I lift my knickers down a little and he lowers me down on it. The fit was snug and he let out a little grunt as I lowered myself. I could feel him hard and hot and a little sticky and I was wet now, very wet and I wanted more. I could feel him get hard under me. The relief on his face was evident.
I adjusted again, trying to find a more comfortable position without making any sudden movements that would alert George. I was still facing forward so reverse cowgirl on my son’s cock as my back was to him. I slowly ground him as his cock slid in and out of my pussy.
Mike’s hands gripped my hips tightly. His breath was hot against my neck. Every little road trip brought me a little more to the edge. “Mom, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice thick.
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a moan. The sensation was overwhelming, a strange mix of taboo and raw pleasure. I knew this was wrong, so very wrong, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My body was on fire, responding to him in a way it hadn’t responded to George in years.
“Careful, honey,” I murmured, my voice shaky as I let out quiet moans. “Keep it.. down, let mommy look after you.”
The car hit another bump, a particularly violent one, and I gasped. I felt Mike tense beneath me, his grip tightening even further.
I tried to slowly ride his cock and felt weird that it was Mike’s dick inside my fanny. My bum touches his balls as I ride his thick cock.
As I continued to move slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements that would alert George, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. There was a sense of excitement and thrill, but also a deep-seated guilt and unease. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, that it was taboo and could have severe consequences.
But as I looked over my shoulder at Mike, I saw the desire and need in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but want to fulfil that need. I felt a sense of responsibility as his mother, to take care of him and make him happy. And in that moment, I felt like I was doing just that.
As we drove on, the bumps in the road became more frequent, and I found myself moving more and more in rhythm with the car. Mike’s hands were still gripped tightly on my hips, and I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I was getting closer and closer to the edge, and I knew that I couldn’t hold on for much longer.
Suddenly, Mike’s body tensed beneath me, and I felt a surge of pleasure as he came inside me. I bit my lip, trying to suppress a moan, as I felt his warm seed fill me up. I slowed my movements, letting him ride out the waves of pleasure, and then finally came to a stop.
As we sat there, catching our breath, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealness. What had just happened? Had I really just had sex with my son? It felt like a dream, a crazy, twisted dream that I couldn’t wake up from.
But as I looked at Mike, I saw the look of satisfaction and pleasure on his face, and I knew that it was real. And in that moment, I felt a sense of shame and guilt wash over me. What had I done? What had I just done to my son, and to our relationship?
As the car continued to drive on, I knew that I had to face the consequences of my actions. I had to figure out how to process what had just happened, and how to move forward. But for now, I just sat there, frozen in shock and uncertainty, as the miles flew by outside.
He whispered in my ear as he was still inside me as I sat down on his balls, “Thanks Mom, wow that was good.”
I slowly lifted myself off of Mike, trying not to make any sudden movements that would alert George. I pulled up my knickers and waited until he tucked himself away before sitting back on his knees.
I took a shaky breath, trying to regulate my breathing before George glanced back again. My legs felt weak and wobbly, and a strange ache pulsed between my thighs, a disconcerting reminder of what had just transpired. I smoothed down my summer dress, trying to appear nonchalant as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the back seat of our family car.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the hum of the engine and the distant music from the radio, which suddenly seemed too loud. I risked a glance at Mike. He was looking out the window, his profile tense, his jaw clenched. He looked… different. Older, somehow, and definitely more complicated. The boyish innocence I always saw was gone, replaced by something I couldn’t quite name, a shadow of adult experience.
George, bless his oblivious heart, remained humming along to the radio, apparently none the wiser. I forced a casual tone, “So, uh, how much further, honey?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Not too much longer. Maybe another hour, an hour and a half. Are you two okay back there? You’re awfully quiet.”
Mike shifted slightly in his seat, a small, almost imperceptible movement, before turning to face the front again. He cleared his throat, and replied, his voice a little too loud, a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, Dad, we’re… good. Just getting a little… worn out back here, all this… activity.” He shot a quick, almost imperceptible glance towards me in the rearview mirror, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else… triumph?
My stomach lurched again, this time not with desire, but with a cold, sinking dread. Worn out? Activity? Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. The little shit. But a thrill, sharp and undeniable, shot through me at his audacity. I met his gaze in the mirror for just a fraction of a second, letting a hint of a smile play on my lips, a silent acknowledgment. He grinned back, wider this time, then quickly returned his gaze to the window, feigning adolescent boredom.
George, in the front, chuckled, oblivious. “Yeah, these back roads are a killer, aren’t they? All that bouncing around can really take it out of you. You young’uns still got it though, eh? Plenty of energy for… activity.” He winked at Mike in the rearview mirror, completely missing the loaded meaning of his own words.
My breath hitched. He was unknowingly echoing Mike’s double entendre, and the irony was almost unbearable. I had to bite back a laugh that threatened to bubble up, hysterical and inappropriate. This was insane. Utterly, gloriously, terrifyingly insane.
“Yeah, Dad, totally,” Mike mumbled, still looking out the window, a small smirk playing on his lips, “Tons of… energy.”
George, still humming, adjusted the air conditioning vents. “Well, just hang in there, champ. Almost there. Then you can… relax.” He stressed the word ‘relax’ just slightly, as if imagining Mike collapsing onto a sofa after their journey. The innocent, everyday connotations of the word felt suddenly obscene in the current context.
I stared straight ahead, my hands clenched in my lap beneath the loose fabric of my dress. Relax? I wouldn’t be relaxing for a long time. My mind was racing, a chaotic jumble of guilt, arousal, and disbelief. Had this really just happened? Was this our new reality? A reality where I had just made love to my son in the back of our family car, while his father drove us along, blissfully unaware?
The ache between my legs throbbed, a persistent, physical reminder of the intimacy we’d just shared. And it wasn’t just physical. There was a connection now, a secret we held together, a dark, forbidden bond forged in the confines of that backseat. A shudder ran through me, a mixture of disgust and… something else. Excitement? Yes, undeniably, a terrifying, illicit thrill.
I risked another glance at Mike, his profile still turned towards the window. But something had shifted. He seemed… different, somehow. More self-assured, perhaps. The awkward, stammering boy from moments ago had vanished, replaced by something closer to a man. And that man had just been inside me. The thought sent another shiver down my spine.
“Mom?” Mike’s voice was softer now, a low murmur, breaking the thick silence. He hadn’t turned to look at me, but I knew he was speaking to me, addressing me as something more than just ‘Mom’ now. Something… shared.
“Yes, honey?” I managed, my voice still a little shaky, betraying the carefully constructed facade of normalcy.
“You… okay?” He finally turned his head, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror once more. This time, there was no mischief, no triumph. Just… concern? And something else, something deeper, almost… intimate.
“I…” I swallowed, struggling to find the right words, the right lie. “Yes, honey. Just… a bit tired, I think. All these bumps.” A weak excuse, even to my own ears.
He studied me for a moment longer, his gaze intense, searching. Then, a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
And in that moment, in that shared, loaded silence, in that unspoken understanding passing between us in the rearview mirror, I knew. This wasn’t over. This was just the beginning. And I had no idea, absolutely no idea, what we had unleashed. But a terrifying, thrilling part of me, deep down, was eager to find out.