Bus Ride

Well, how it happened really was a complete accident. Let me explain.

Dad was retiring from the army after nearly 25 years of service. He had been honourably discharged at the rank of staff Sergeant with a full military pension, including wounding in action benefits, a bullet through the upper arm. Not to mention, a former colleague, who had retired years previously, had started up a successful security firm and had offered my father a position at an excellent salary and benefits package. Because of this, my parents decided to take a long overdue holiday in the Caribbean. Not that I knew that the time, but apparently there was an agreement between them for this trip.

Our first night on the island, dad had too much to drink and the heat didn't help. The next day, mum told me that dad was going to stay behind to sleep it off. On the other hand, we would go to a beach on the far side of the island recommended by the staff. The bus took a long scenic route that wound up into the central mountains that formed the bulk of the island and down to the beach in question.

As we were early, our seats were at the front, so the state of the roads was not as noticeable to us. The view of the island and ocean was too beautiful to ignore.

We spent our day sunbathing on a beautiful white sand beach, swimming in the warm blue sea, exploring the small nearby town and enjoying an excellent seafood lunch cooked over hot coals on the dock. My mum is a beautiful confident woman, 11 years younger than my dad. For her day at the beach, she had chosen the skimpiest of her collection of skimpy bikinis and she was enjoying the admiring looks she got from every man.

We were so enthralled by the slow peaceful pace of life we almost missed the bus back. It was my own fault. I misread the time for the last bus printed on a board at the stop.

Because of my mistake, there was only one seat left. Located right at the back beside the toilet. For some never explained reason, no one was allowed to stand. This meant Mum had to sit in my lap for the entire drive back to the hotel.

The moment bus started its long winding climb into mountains, I knew this was going to be a problem. I was oblivious to the screensaver views out of the right-hand windows for the first time, being entirely focused on the state of the roads. By the feel of it, something was seriously wrong with the suspension back here too.

With every bump, I was getting a face full of mum's thick Auburn hair along with a nose full of the spicy scent she wore. A further complication was that the seat belt didn't reach around both of us. The only thing holding mum in place was my arms wrapped around her trim waist. It was either that or she would be thrown off my lap. This also meant the soft fullness of her breasts was bouncing on my forearms. My forearms were rapidly becoming the second most sensitive part of my body. All I could do was hold on.

What I couldn't know was my grip on her waist was also pulling her cotton wrap tight over her bikini top and visibly stiff nipples. The friction on her sensitive nipples was making her horny. At the same time, my cock was being ground by her firm bum. As I was wearing speedos, the movement of her bum with every bump was gently unrolling them down my thighs.

By 20 minutes into our hour-long bus ride, my speedos were completely off my cock. This meant the cleft of her firm bum was being moved back and forth on top of my ever-ready cock. What was happening to us was hidden from view by her wrap and her bag sitting on her lap. Right now, the only thing between my rapidly hardening cock and her increasingly wet vagina was basically a piece of anal floss.

Looking back, I can't help but wonder how mom didn't notice. The only thing I can come up with was the potholes had claimed all of her attention. The idea of an accident must have so consumed her mind, she wasn't aware of externals. At least, that was I hoping! All it would take is one bad stretch of road and it wasn't long in appearing!

The bus, bad suspension and all, bounced through a deep pothole and the rear of the bus being lighter than the front, rose into the air. For a second or two, everyone was in mid-air crying out in delight or surprise.

Mum left my lap bringing my arms to their full length, freeing my rigid cock to spring up and when gravity returned, her sopping wet pussy came right down on top of it. It was over before we knew it!

Unsurprisingly, she stiffened at the unexpected intrusion. This was precisely the wrong thing to do! My inexperienced cock was now inside a seductively warm wet sleeve which had snapped shut like a rippling, flexible vice. I was barely able to stifle a moan at how good it felt.

Flushing under her tan, mum had felt what was happening under her, how could she not? But what could be done about it? There was no way to undo it without somebody noticing.

She was staring at two rows of double seats full of people who would make our holiday a living Hell through gossip! Most of them shared our hotel, but worst of all, they were turned in their seats to chat. We were caught.

Three seats away were Laura and James Gardener, a couple we had met at dinner the previous evening. They were laughing and joking with another couple she didn't know. The Gardeners were well aware of who we were and there was no way to explain this away. Thankfully, no one seemed to have realised.

Annoyed at her lack of options, mum leaned back to speak to me. Yet, before she could say a thing, the bus hit another bad patch. Not just one pothole this time, but a series of them.

Since I was securely seatbelted and the only thing holding mum down was still my arms wrapped around her waist. I could do nothing to stop her rapidly bouncing on my rigid cock for what felt like minutes.

When it ended, to her utter shock, she was taken by a fierce orgasm. It took all her willpower not to cry out at the sheer intensity of it. Gritting her teeth, holding on to me was all she could do.

All I knew was that once again that warm wet vise was writhing around my cock in a crazed but very pleasurable way. Once it was over, she collapsed back against me, breathing heavily. She whispered to me, as I blew her disarrayed hair out of the way.

'That was so wrong, but it felt so right. Thank you, luv.'

Her lips found mine in a brief but surprising thank you, hidden behind the folds of her hair as the road curved around the central mountain's flank to descend towards the main resort, it happened again.

Please understand, I had no clue that her sex life was going through what was effectively a long drought and the effect of a young hard cock on her sex-starved body was magnified. I had no idea that these were even orgasms she was experiencing! Our situation, not to mention, the very real fear of being caught had the effect of one of those little blue pills I'd heard about, that only added an extra element to her excitement.

There was nothing to she could do but endure as her inner muscles continued to spasm on her son's cock. Later, she explained to me that it had been years since she had been made love to like this. Dad's constant deployments around the world had taken an awful toll on their love life.

As the road finally levelled out and smoothed in the last mile before the white rise of the hotel in its picturesque surrounds, I had to speak. My straining whisper reached her ear. 'Mum...I...I...I can't hold it anymore.'

Her feelings towards me in that moment were very tender, she simply couldn't deny me. 'Do it, luv.' She whispered back, caressing the quivering thigh beneath her own.

My cum exploded from me, I sighed in deepest relief against her neck, burying my face in her hair to disguise my expression.

To her delight, she could feel my cock pulsing strongly and imagined the cum travelling into her womb. She relaxed, welcoming it and almost as a reward for her generosity, another fierce orgasm took her breath away.

In the confusion of people gathering their bags and clothes to leave the bus, no one thought anything of her standing in front of me shaking out her wrinkled wrap. I was able to pull up my Speedo's and then, it was my turn to distract as she turned her wrap into a sarong to disguise what would soon be leaving her. We made quick use of the rear exit.

It took a couple of minutes waiting behind the bus in order to avoid the Gardeners, so we could follow at a distance. As they passed the open-air bar on the terrace above the pool, dad's drill Sergeant voice called out to invite them for a drink.

We could see him through the various leafy plants that dotting the seating area, standing straight-backed against the bright sunshine in his almost uniform of white linen slacks and polo shirt. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard perfectly groomed, and of course, the ever-present glass of good Scotch in hand. They accepted his invitation and joined in the cloud of boozy jokes and tall stories.

We slipped past heading straight for the lifts and into our adjoining rooms.

For the remainder of our two weeks on that beautiful island, it was almost like mum and I were different people, discovering one another. She even asked me to use her given name, Quiva, when we were alone. As dad preferred the post-colonial charm of the hotel and its surrounding gardens, where his carefully maintained soldiers image stood him in good stead.

As it turns out, he was glad of our absence during the day on various excursions to isolated beauty spots also recommended by the hotel staff. It seemed Laura Gardner had a thing about men in, or more likely, out of uniform.

About to leave on another of these mini adventures to some isolated point on the island, returning to collect a mini-cam I'd left behind. On my way back to meet Quiva, I saw dad and Mrs Gardener sneaking into a storeroom of the pool area. They had no idea of me recording not just what they did, but what was said through the window slats.

Checking the camera later, the footage was crystal-clear of them both indulging in vigorous sex among the pool equipment though the audio wasn't good due to pumping equipment just inside the window.

It was a fairly sure bet this was going to come in handy at some point in the future, when, through no fault of our own, we were discovered. But then, wasn't he who told me many times in that gruff old-school soldier's voice of his: 'Insurance is a God-send, m'boy.'

Of course, this wasn't reality. Our return home to drizzling grey skies and bitingly cold weather made that clear to us more than anything else. Without a secluded island to roam with work and school, shopping and friends to occupy our time, Quiva and I couldn't continue our affair.

Luckily for us, I didn't get mum pregnant but neither did dad. That broken promise was the last straw for her and while I was away in college next year, a mile deep my chemistry courses, she divorced dad. Much of the settlement was made out of court thanks to a certain mini-disc.

He left her the paid-for house, his cashed-in military pension and his savings. Mum found out later he was living in a flat near his job with regular visits from Laura Gardener. She began dating for the first time in two decades and was enjoying herself hugely with all the attention.

So, over time our island getaway faded into memory, but that bus ride is still something I masturbate over even years later.