The morning sun spilled through the bathroom window, casting a golden glow across the tiles. Sarah, 38, stood under the shower, steam curling around her. Water cascaded over her smooth, tanned skin, tracing the curves of her full breasts and down her toned stomach. Her dark hair, wet and slick, clung to her shoulders. She tilted her head back, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles from days of packing. Today was moving day—a fresh start in a new town, four hours away.
She reached for the body wash, squeezing a dollop into her palm. The scent of lavender filled the air as she lathered her skin, her hands gliding over her arms, then her breasts. Her nipples, pink and sensitive, hardened under her touch. She let out a soft, pleased hum, enjoying the quiet moment. Her fingers trailed lower, brushing the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair above her fanny. She lingered there, a faint flush creeping up her chest, but shook her head. No time for that now.
Stepping out, she grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her dripping body. The mirror was fogged, but she wiped it clear, studying her reflection. Her green eyes sparkled with nervous excitement. She dried off, her movements slow and deliberate, savouring the softness of the towel against her skin. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she bent to dry her legs, the towel grazing her thighs. She felt alive, ready for the day, despite the chaos awaiting her.
In the bedroom, Sarah opened her dresser, picking out fresh knickers—a lacy black pair with delicate embroidery. She stepped into them, the fabric hugging her hips and clinging to the curve of her arse. The lace teased her skin, a subtle reminder of her femininity. She chose a short navy skirt, just above the knee, that flared slightly, showing off her shapely legs. A white blouse, crisp and fitted, completed the look, its top button left undone to reveal a hint of cleavage. She twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt swishing against her thighs. “Not bad,” she muttered, a cheeky smile playing on her lips.
Downstairs, the house was a mess of boxes and tape. Her husband, Tom, was loading the last of their belongings into the car. Their son, Marcus, 19, lounged on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. Sarah glanced at him, noting his broad shoulders and messy dark hair. He’d grown into a man, but to her, he’d always be her boy. “Marcus, love, help your dad, yeah?” she called, her voice warm but firm.
Marcus groaned, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Alright, Mum.” He trudged outside, his trainers scuffing the floor. Sarah followed, her heels clicking on the pavement. The car was stuffed to the brim—boxes, bags, even a lamp wedged in the back. Tom slammed the boot shut, wiping sweat from his brow. “That’s everything,” he said, glancing at Sarah. “Ready, love?”
She nodded, but her eyes scanned the car. The passenger seat was piled high with bags. The back seat was no better—boxes crammed against the windows, leaving just enough room for Marcus, squished against the door. Sarah frowned, her hands on her hips. “Tom, where the hell am I meant to sit?”
Tom scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Bugger. Didn’t think this through. You’ll have to sit on Marcus’s lap, Sarah. No other way.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. “On his lap? For four bloody hours?” Her voice was sharp, but a flush crept up her neck. She glanced at Marcus, who was already climbing into the back, his face unreadable. “Tom, that’s ridiculous. Can’t we move something?”
“No chance,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Everything’s tetris’d in there. It’s just one drive, love. You’ll manage.” He gave her a wink, oblivious to her discomfort.
Sarah sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. But this is daft.” She turned to Marcus, who was now wedged against the car door, his long legs bent awkwardly. “You alright with this, love? It’s a bit… weird.”
Marcus shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “S’fine, Mum. Just… don’t wiggle too much.” His attempt at a joke fell flat, and he looked away, fiddling with his phone.
Sarah forced a laugh, her stomach twisting. “Right, no wiggling. Got it.” She climbed into the car, her skirt riding up slightly as she manoeuvred onto Marcus’s lap. The car door slammed shut, and she settled against him, her arse pressed against his thighs. His body was warm, solid, and she could feel the faint rhythm of his breathing. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot, but every movement made her hyper-aware of their closeness.
Tom started the engine, and the car lurched forward. “Here we go!” he said, oblivious to the tension in the back. Sarah gripped the seat in front of her, her knuckles white. The road was rough, full of potholes, and every bump sent her bouncing slightly on Marcus’s lap. She bit her lip, trying to stay still, but it was impossible.
The first pothole hit hard, jolting her backwards. Her arse slid against Marcus, and she froze. Something firm pressed against her knickers, unmistakable even through his jeans. Her breath caught, a needy gasp escaping before she could stop it. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Marcus’s. His face was flushed, his jaw tight. “You okay, love?” she whispered, her voice shaky.
“Yeah,” Marcus muttered, his voice low, rough. “Just… bumpy road.” He shifted beneath her, but it only made things worse. His cock, straining against his jeans, rubbed against her fanny, the lace of her knickers doing little to dull the sensation. Sarah’s heart raced, a mix of embarrassment and something darker swirling in her chest.
Another bump. Her skirt rode up slightly, and she felt the heat of his jeans against her bare thighs. The friction was unbearable, each jolt sending a spark through her core. Her fanny clenched, a slick warmth spreading between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to focus on anything else—the hum of the engine, Tom’s off-key humming—but it was no use.
“Sorry, Marcus,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “This road’s a nightmare.” She shifted again, hoping to ease the pressure, but it only pressed her harder against him. His cock twitched, and she bit back a moan, her lips parting in a desperate, filthy noise.
Marcus’s hands, resting awkwardly on the seat, clenched into fists. “S’okay, Mum,” he said, his voice strained. “Just… try to stay still.” But his words were hollow. She could feel him hardening beneath her, his erection unmistakable now. Every bump made her grind against him, her fanny rubbing against the rough denim. Her knickers were soaked, clinging to her swollen lips.
Sarah’s mind was a mess. This was wrong, so wrong, but her body didn’t care. The heat, the friction, the forbidden thrill—it was intoxicating. She glanced at Tom, who was focused on the road, oblivious. Another pothole hit, and she gasped, her back arching slightly. Marcus let out a low, rough grunt, his hands twitching as if he wanted to grab her.
“You alright back there?” Tom called, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Fine!” Sarah said, too quickly. Her voice was high, panicked. She forced a smile, but her body was on fire. Marcus’s cock was rock-hard now, pressing insistently against her fanny. She could feel every ridge through his jeans, and her clit throbbed with need. She shifted, pretending to adjust her skirt, but really, she was chasing that pressure, that delicious ache.
The car hit a series of bumps, each one worse than the last. Sarah’s arse bounced on Marcus’s lap, her fanny grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. She couldn’t stop the soft, needy moans spilling from her lips. Marcus’s breathing was ragged, his chest heaving against her back. “Mum…” he whispered, his voice a plea.
“Shh,” she hissed, her heart pounding. “Just… hold on.” But she was losing control. Her fanny was drenched, her knickers useless. The lace teased her clit with every movement, and she was dizzy with want. She glanced over her shoulder again, her eyes locking with Marcus’s. His gaze was dark, hungry, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
The road smoothed out for a moment, giving her a chance to catch her breath. But the damage was done. Her body was screaming for release, and Marcus was no better. His hands had crept to her hips, gripping her lightly, as if he couldn’t help himself. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t want to.
“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We can’t…” But her words lacked conviction. Another bump hit, and she ground against him, a sudden scream escaping her throat. Her fanny pulsed, her clit begging for more. Marcus’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into her hips.
“Mum, I…” Marcus’s voice was hoarse, desperate. “I can’t help it.” His cock throbbed against her, and she felt a slickness that wasn’t just her own. His jeans were damp, his precum soaking through. The realisation made her head spin.
The car slowed as Tom pulled into a service station. “Need a piss,” he announced, oblivious to the scene in the back. He parked and hopped out, leaving them alone. The silence was deafening, broken only by their heavy breathing.
Sarah didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her fanny was pressed against Marcus’s cock, her body trembling with need. She turned her head, her lips inches from his. “Marcus…” she whispered, her voice a mix of guilt and desire.
He didn’t speak. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. Her knickers were exposed now, the black lace stark against her pale skin. His fingers brushed the damp fabric, and she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice raw. “You’re so wet.”
“Marcus, we shouldn’t…” But her protest was weak. His fingers slipped beneath her knickers, finding her swollen fanny. Her lips were slick, her clit pulsing under his touch. He groaned, a low, filthy sound, as he explored her, his fingers sliding through her wetness.
Her head fell back against his shoulder, a sweet little cry escaping her. “Ohh God… right there…” His fingers circled her clit, slow at first, then faster. Her fanny clenched, her juices coating his hand. The car smelled of sex, of her arousal, and it drove her wild.
Marcus’s other hand cupped her breast through her blouse, squeezing her tit. Her nipple was hard, straining against the fabric. He pinched it, and she moaned, loud and desperate. “Mmm… don’t stop… yes, there… ohhh.” Her hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure.
He pushed her knickers aside, his fingers sliding into her fanny. She was tight, hot, her walls gripping him. “Fuck, Mum,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You feel so good.” He pumped his fingers, curling them to hit that spot inside her. Her juices squelched, dripping onto his jeans.
Sarah was lost. Her body was his, her shame forgotten. She reached behind her, fumbling with his zip. His cock sprang free, thick and throbbing. It was bigger than she’d expected, the head slick with precum. She stroked him, her hand trembling, and he groaned, a deep, needy sound. “Ungh, ah yes…”
She lifted her hips, guiding his cock to her fanny. The tip brushed her lips, and she shuddered, a desperate, filthy noise spilling from her throat. Slowly, she sank down, taking him inch by inch. Her fanny stretched around him, the sensation overwhelming. “Oh my god—faster! Yes! Ohhh yesss!” she cried, her voice breaking.
Marcus gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her. His cock filled her, hitting every nerve. Her fanny was soaked, squelching with every thrust. Her tits bounced, her blouse straining. She brought her arms together, squeezing her breasts, her cleavage spilling out. “Ahhhhh,” she moaned, her head thrown back.
He fucked her harder, his cock slamming into her cervix. Her fanny clenched, her orgasm building. His balls slapped against her, the sound obscene. “Mmm… you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice raw. His fingers dug into her arse, spreading her cheeks.
Sarah’s climax hit like a wave. Her fanny spasmed, her juices gushing over his cock. “A-Ah! Mmmm…” she screamed, her body shaking. Marcus groaned, his thrusts erratic. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he gasped, his voice desperate.
“Do it,” she panted, her voice a command. “Cum inside me.” His cock pulsed, and he exploded, his semen flooding her fanny. It was hot, thick, spilling out around his shaft. Her fanny milked him, every spurt sending shivers through her. The excess dripped onto his jeans, pooling between her thighs.
They collapsed, panting, their bodies slick with sweat. Her fanny throbbed, still gripping his softening cock. The car reeked of sex, the air heavy with their sin. Sarah’s heart pounded, guilt creeping in, but her body was sated, humming with aftershocks.
Tom’s footsteps approached, and she scrambled to fix her skirt, her knickers still soaked. Marcus zipped up, his face flushed. They sat in silence, the weight of what they’d done settling over them.
Tom climbed in, oblivious. “Right, let’s get moving!” he said, starting the engine. Sarah forced a smile, her fanny still tingling, Marcus’s cum leaking into her knickers.