Chapter 11
Back Seat Adventure
For the next couple months nothing unusual happened worth passing on. I slept with Mora a couple times while her boyfriend was out of town for a football game. I didn't ask why she didn't go with him. The fact that she called me before he left was enough of an answer for me.
Brittany and Kassi still kept up with me, despite going steady with Artie and Will respectively; separately, of course. It seems while both knew of the other's involvement with me, they wanted a form of plausible deniability in the event either boy confronted them about seeing me. I didn't care. Both were good fucks, and that's all they were to me.
There was one interesting development that occurred when my mother and her lover arranged to meet at a summer camp for a weekend rendezvous. But his wife got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. My mother was stuck, having agreed in advance to pick up the daughter of a mutual friend; i.e., her excuse for going in the first place. I was to come along - as company - but I was also to get an opportunity to drive a new Camaro, so I went without protesting ... too much. And I did enjoy tooling around the countryside in the Camaro, top down, looking and feeling soooo cool.
The weekend was uneventful other than another woman - a Mrs. Genero, who experienced some car trouble on arriving at the camp. Her problems manifested when the local garage had to send away for parts to complete the repairs. Mrs. Genero asked my mother for a lift back, and my mother invited her and her nineteen-year-old daughter, Heather to join us.
My Mother drove, with Mrs. Genero sitting up front beside her. Heather joined me in the back. She was a reasonably pretty girl, great legs and ass although her breasts were still in what I thought might be early stages of development. She was in her freshman year at college, and thoroughly mortified at being forced to ride with me, a mere high school student, although only a couple months younger than she.
As a consequence she thought she would dominate me through superior conversational gambits.
"I'm on the Wesleyan debating team. Are you going out for the debating team next year, Aubrey?"
"I kind of doubt it. I'm on the baseball team and take dance, although the dance is outside of school activities."
"She's only on the debating team because she loves to talk," her mother said, without turning around.
"Oh, Mom, c'mon, you know that's not true!"
Heather said, as if worried that I would take her mother's joke seriously.
"Aubrey ... do you have a car?"
"Well ...."
My mother rescued me, saying: "We share the family car. So long as I have no urgent need of transportation, Aubrey has use of it."
Turning to face me, Heather said, "man, that's kind of a bummer."
I detected a bit of sympathy in her tone. I had expected her to come back with some sarcastic remark, and her stock went up in my eyes.
We were quiet for a while and I started to doze off, only to realize that her cheek was now pressed against mine. I had a fleeting thought that she wanted me to kiss her, but with our mothers up front, I decided not to try. I might have misjudged her and didn't want the repercussions that a clumsy kiss might bring.
Time passed in silence except for the sound of the tires on the pavement. But Heather's leg was moving. First it was just an occasional extra bit of pressure against mine but soon it was different, a sliding motion, almost a caress.
Once I'd convinced myself that it wasn't just the effect of the car's swaying and bouncing, I began to reciprocate. It was enjoyable, frustrating, but exciting, especially with our parents in the front seat.
And then it happened. I felt Heather's hand on my thigh, and I looked anxiously at the front seat. My mother was concentrating on the highway and it looked like Mrs. Genero had dozed off. It was dark in the car, the only light coming from the occasional light pole as we flashed past.
I reciprocated, placing a hand on Heather's thigh. Under the woolen skirt she wore, her thigh felt full and firm, just like it had looked in daylight. When I did that, she snuggled closer.
Gradually her hand moved higher, and I shifted position to allow my bulging erection some freedom under my pants, which fortunately with the style of the time, were loose at the crotch.
I also had slowly moved my hand higher but the wool skirt was too thick to allow more than a feel of the shape of her legs.
Heather's head was on my shoulder but, even if my mother could see anything in the rear view mirror, I knew it would look innocent enough. And then Heather's other hand was on mine.
'Was she going to move it away?' I considered the possibilities, my brain racing through them, working as fast as it ever had before. I concluded that it was unlikely, she was moving my hand ... but steered it under her skirt and onto her bare skin.
'How far should I go?' I wondered.
The answer was not long in coming. Her legs opened, and she slumped lower on the seat and moved her hips forward.
Using the tips of my fingers, I stroked the silky flesh of her inner thigh. I used a series of, little circular caresses that moved inexorably higher.
I still couldn't believe that she was inviting what she appeared to be. I kept glancing into the rearview mirror to make sure my mother wasn't watching us. My testicles felt like balloons, achingly swollen, as Heather's hand slowly closed around the tented fabric.
I glanced sideways at her. There was enough light on her face that I could see that her eyes were closed. Was she awake? Of course she was. She had to be.
My arm was half-buried now under her skirt and my fingers felt the fringe of soft hair where her panties met the juncture of thigh and hip. I slipped my hand under the elastic and felt the softness; the moist, oily squishiness of her cunt. Her eyes opened then, briefly, and she slid further forward on the seat, tilting her pelvis upward, and opening her legs wider by lifting one over my thigh. I was both lust-crazed and terrified.
If her mother woke and turned her head, she would see us, even in the dark. But I couldn't resist the opportunity. I explored the succulent softness of her slippery folds of flesh and found the hard bump of her clit.
I heard her utter a faint gasp when I touched her there and almost pulled my hand away in fright.
But no one else seemed to hear it. My mother's eyes were still fixed on the road and Mrs. Genero didn't stir.
Suddenly, my mother called out to us, "Are you guys warm enough?"
I quickly withdrew my hand, and not as quickly, Heather did to.
"Uh ... yeah, it's a bit chilly, Mom. But there's a blanket here." I said and bit my lower lip so hard it started to bleed.
Heather reached down between the front and rear seat and got the lap robe that was there, and spread it over our laps.
"Is it true?" she asked in a whisper so low I barely heard her.
"Is what true?" I said, worried that my harsher voice would carry to the women in the front seat.
"That you've done all those girls at your high school?"
"No," I said and left it at that.
"Not what I heard."
"What have you heard?"
"That you're a stud, and that you did it with all those girls in your class."
"Where'd you here that?"
"Are you denying it?"
"You tell me first."
"Mora told me you were doing everyone."
"She did, huh?"
"I believe her."
"Why?"
"Why ... why would she make something like that up?"
"Could be she wanted to put you in an embarrassing position like this," I said.
That stopped her. But I realized I was going to miss out on a terrific opportunity if I didn't confess the truth.
"Nah, that's not right," I said. "I have been with some girls, but not all of them. Mora's talking through her..."
"So you have been with a lot of girls," she said.
"A few," I admitted.
"Who?"
"See, now there you go. I'm not saying who I was with. You want to know that bad ask Mora, she seems to know everything."
"I don't know if I can believe her," Heather admitted.
"I don't kiss and tell. Never have, and never will," I said.
"Good," she replied and shifted position under the blanket. For a moment, I wondered what she was doing. I wondered until I saw her put something into her purse. She'd taken off her panties!
Emboldened by both her actions and the protection offered by the blanket, I slipped my hand through the opening of her skirt and cupped the furry softness of Heather's desire dampened sex.
I felt her fumbling with the front of my pants and I froze on hearing the sound of my zipper being opened. But, just as when she'd gasped at the first clit touch, the sound hadn't been heard in the front seat. Now, at least, if her mother awakened and glanced back, she wouldn't be able to see anything.
"You're big!" Heather whispered, as her warm hand closed around my dick. I shuddered as her tongue flicked into my ear.
"I want you," she said, and her words brought me to the edge of coming then and there. "You know what to do, right?"
Evidently she did too, for she started jerking me off, using a fairly rapid pace and even though I was stroking the juicy folds of her cunt, I was still shocked by what she'd said.
I twisted away from her touch, thinking it wouldn't do to leave a big cum stain on the blanket or on my pants either, for that matter. And I was awfully close to that point. But I underestimated my horny companion's ingenuity.
She was fumbling in her purse and she brought out her panties. Then she wrapped my tool in the silky softness of her underwear and I relaxed.
Well, relaxed is not quite the word. But at least I knew that if I went off, it would be contained, and there was a salacious novelty in being, literally, in Heather's pants.
Her hand was squeezing my dick, virtually strangling it, but fortunately not pumping it. I had her hips squirming as I circled her clit with my thumb, and the rustling sound of her skirt against the seat sounded too loud to my ears, but I didn't stop.
"Harder..." she panted into my ear.
"Hurry ... hurry," she grunted moments later. "I'm gonna cum!"
And then her thighs locked on my wrist, and she uttered an audible gasp as I felt her cunt tighten its grip on my finger.
"You guys Okay?" my mother asked. I saw her eyes looking our way in the rear-view mirror.
"Huh? Oh, guess I was dreaming," Heather said after an intake of breath.
Heather's answer seemed to satisfy my mother and Mrs. Genero appeared to still be sleeping.
But the brief conversation had awoken her. She yawned and said, "Oh, I guess I nodded off. Where are we?"
"We're about forty minutes away," my mother said. "Go back to sleep everyone, I'll wake you when we arrive."
Heather's hand was still wrapped around my cock. Only now she was pumping it. Slowly, but the blanket was moving. I didn't know what to do.
Could her mother see if she really looked? I lifted my leg and got my foot on the seat. This made a tent of the blanket and the movement of Heather's hand was no longer evident. Not to a casual observer, but very much so to me. She was stroking my dick in a loose grip, her panties sliding up and down, the smooth silk rubbing against my sensitive foreskin. My climax was imminent, and I did not have the willpower to interrupt the delightful caress.
"Cum, Aubrey," Heather whispered in my ear. "I want you to cum in my panties."
The invitation was too much. I stifled a groan, and her hand tightened its grip. She pumped me, still slowly, and I exploded, my load gushing into the silken enclosure, its wetness surrounding my tool.
Heather uttered a throaty sigh, and continued jerking me off; tightening her grip on the upstroke, loosening it on the down stroke. She was reaching down to the base of my cock and handling me like a milkmaid handles a cow's teat, milking all of my pent-up semen into her panties.
