Maing Room for the Art

Over the years of I've enjoyed a number of Literotica stories in which a mother and son become sexually involved after circumstances force the former to sit on the latter's lap during a long car ride, Mom Takes A Ride by NakdSalr and Sitting on My Son's Lap by retired04 among them. (No slight is intended to the many other fine such stories I fail to mention here). This is my first contribution to the genre and my first aunt - nephew story, another story-line I've been wanting to try.

The women are based on two friends of mine, the events a complete invention.

As always, all story characters involved in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * *

"I didn't realize how small it was."

The "it" was my truck, a Toyota Tacoma. The speaker, my new bother-in-law, Patrick. He was wealthy and I guess when he'd heard I had a pick-up truck he'd assumed it would be top-of-the-line. But I was not wealthy. I was 26, a full time X-Ray technician, and a part time personal trainer. I preferred the latter, but I was just getting started and a girl needs to make a living.

My sister Jasmine, fourteen years older than me (there's an intervening brother and sister), has just escaped a bad marriage to a decided loser and swearing not to make the same mistake twice, traded on her looks and targeted Patrick, who was twenty years her elder, very conservative, quite well-off, and as far as I could tell a perfectly nice man. He had, however, either forgotten or never known how most of us lived.

The plan was for the five of us - me, Patrick, Jasmine, her son Andrew, and his live-in girl friend Magda - to spend a week at a house Patrick owned on a lake in Northern Arizona. It was a sort of get-to-know-you gathering; Patrick and Jasmine's courtship had been intense and short; we learned about the marriage by e-mail. However, Patrick and Jasmine's arrival had been delayed by last minute hic-ups in a subdivision deal he was closing. For this reason Andrew, Magda, and I, who had arrived at the cabin two days before, had driven back to Flagstaff to meet Patrick and Jasmine at the airport. What we hadn't counted on was that Patrick had shipped a number of items for the house, including several original works of art which could "most definitely not ride in the bed of a truck." And while we could fit them in the back seat, they left very little room.

* * * *

As I said, Patrick was a conservative man and had been adamant that Magda and Andrew would not sleep together while under his roof, explaining that I, as the adult, was responsible for making sure they did not until he arrived. Personally, I could give a shit; I had nothing against pre-marital sex and had just ended a three year relationship held together, at the end, only by the anticipation of the great make-up sex after each fight, but to my surprise Magda and Andrew did not put up a fuss. Madga agreed to share a ground floor bedroom with me; Andrew slept in another bedroom down the hall. The second floor master bedroom, the one with the porch overlooking the lake, was verboten to visitors.

On the first day at the lake there Magda and Andrew boarded a canoe to explore. I sat on the deck with my Kindle. Occasionally I'd look up, but they'd disappeared. After awhile, a little curious and a bit worried, I fetched some binoculars and scanned the lake, finally spying the canoe, obscured by a few trees, pulled ashore a small island. I also found Magda and Andrew, naked on a blanket, lying next to each other, looking very happy. Little doubt what they'd been doing and the rule was no sex in the house; Patrick has said nothing about islands. I put the binoculars down, but kept glancing at the island and curiosity finally got the best of me. I picked up the binoculars and found Magda sitting astride Andrew, happily bouncing up and done on his fully recovered penis. I knew I shouldn't spy, but it'd been awhile. Watching, I slipped a hand inside my shorts and brought myself off.

And the next morning, when they announced they were going exploring, I did it again, this time with a more powerful pair of binoculars.

* * * *

At my instigation we had left for Flagstaff several hours early; I wanted to hit a gym; there was no weight room on the lake. Magda and Andrew worked out on treadmills, Andrew jogging and Magda walking. When done I checked the flight schedules, Patrick and Jasmine's flight was going to be an hour late; we had time to kill. Magda suggested a steam. Sounded great.

* * * *

Madga and I stripped, grabbed some towels, and I followed her to the steam room, looking at her, thinking that two women could hardly look less alike. I'm petite; four feet ten inches tall and 93 nicely muscled pounds which include (I will immodestly add) quite a substantial pair of breasts. My skin is pale, my eyes blue, and my features, except for a long narrow nose that evenly divides my face, small. Madga was of Palestinian descent. While far from fat, she was a much bigger woman than I, five feet nine inches tall, curvy, with substantial arms, legs, and torso. Her eyes were a dark intense brown, her skin olive, and her facial features large and pronounced, big mouth, thick heavy lips, big eyes, and a flat wide nose. Her hair, unlike my neat bob, was thick and black and curvy and poured off her head like a waterfall. She was not a classic beauty, but there was something exotic and sexy about her.

I had liked her from the moment we'd met. Hands-on, she made pottery, cooked, kept an extensive and verdant vegetable garden; she was also uninhibited, funny, raunchy, smart, and had a laugh that occupied her entire body. This was the first time I'd gotten to talk to her alone and our conversation was free flowing, touching on our history, recent beaus, hopes for the future. Madga was studying child psychology with the ambition of becoming an expert in adoption. As to her history, while she was not all that specific, I was left with the impression that it was a bit wilder than mine. I'd seen her make love twice, I believed her.

After the steam room we showered. I put on a light blue dress - short, sleeveless, buttons up the front - perfect for the heat. Madga pulled some jeans over her shapely butt and donned a white tank top. We met Andrew, wearing baggy shorts and a tee-shirt, outside.

* * * *

So back to our story: we were at the airport and we had a problem. It was my truck and I knew I should drive, but my newly dignified sister and her fully dignified husband were not going to consent to be crammed in the back seat. I proposed that Patrick drive, he knew the way, and that Jasmine sit up front with him; that left the back seat for the three of us.

We stared at the narrow space. Finally, I said it, "I'll sit on Andrew's lap."

"I can do it," Madga said.

"No, it makes the most sense for me. I'm the smallest."

No one could argue with that logic.

Jasmine said, "If you get uncomfortable we can stop and you can stretch your legs."

Patrick did not seem entirely comfortable with that, he did not seem a stopping-kind-of-guy, but nodded his agreement and we took off. It was already late, the sky black.

As we pulled out of the small airport I moved around on Andrew's lap, found a comfortable position, turned to Andrew, "How ya doin'?"

"Fine, no problem."

I looked to my left, saw Madga and the bundles piled next to her.

"Patrick can you see well enough to drive?"

He checked the rear view mirror, adjusted it upwards so he could look over the art. "Not perfect, but we should be fine. How are you?"

I wiggled a bit, testing my perch. "Fine, your step-son is surprisingly comfortable."

He didn't laugh.

We drove along. Magda and Andrew held hands for awhile, then started playing footsie. He placed his hand atop her thigh. She ran a finger along the side of his. They smiled at each other, a covetous smile. I gave Madga my best "knock it off" look. She smiled back at me.

Up front Andrew was talking on his cell phone, something about the subdivision, occasionally complaining about the poor reception; Jasmine was texting. Andrew's hand drifted from atop to the inside of Madga's thigh. Madga sighed and lightly dragged her fingers along his leg.

I knew what it was to be young and in love, but was not comfortable sitting in Andrew's lap watching them start to paw each other.

"Jasmine, how 'bout..."

"Please Liz, keep it down, Patrick can barely hear now and these calls are important."

So much for my plan to derail Andrew and Magda by drawing Jasmine and Patrick's attention to the back seat.

Andrew's hand moved up Madga's leg; Madga's touch on Andrew's leg grew firmer. And then I felt it. Andrew was getting hard. I looked back at him; he looked at me and shrugged his shoulder, like there was nothing he could do about it. l repositioned my ass, trying to break the contact, but Andrew soon shifted his position and his penis was pressed to my butt, growing, getting harder. I looked to my left. Magda's eyes were closed, Andrew's hand had worked to within an inch of her sex. I poked her, wanting them to stop, but she only placed her hand atop my thigh in a calming gesture.

My nephew kept growing. I shifted again, now he was lodged in the crack of my ass, growing, getting bigger. How big was it going to get? I'd seen it through the binoculars; I'd thought it was impressive, but it seemed much larger now.

I looked down, tried to organize my thoughts. How do I get out of this? Madga's hand flexed and she dragged the tip of her index finger along the top of my thigh, moving my short dress a couple of inches up my leg. I twisted at the waist, involuntarily clenching my ass cheeks on my nephew's penis - he gasped - and covered her large hand with my own, trying to hold it in place. Madga, however, was surprisingly strong - there might be something to this gardening - and her fingertips continued to play on my skin. Now fully erect, Andrew's penis jumped a couple of times. Was he flexing it on purpose? Andrew shifted, pressed himself back into his seat, creating a gap between us, and reached inside his shorts, took hold of his penis and pulled it up so it lay flat against his stomach. Then he slid back into his original position, his dick lodged between our bodies.

Patrick said to my sister. "I can barely hear on this thing. Can you connect the head phones?"

Jasmine did, then turned in our direction. "I'm going to watch a movie, if that's okay with you guys."

Andrew said, "That's fine Mom," laid his right hand on my thigh, doodled his fingertips on my skin. Startled, I let Magda's hand slip from my grip and she moved it to my inner thigh.

I watched my sister put on her headphones.

Well, it was clear that I was not going to stop Madga and Andrew. I took some deep breaths, relaxed, there was no reason to panic.

Magda stroked the skin of my inner thigh. Her skin, that of someone who worked with her hands, was rough and calloused, and her touch sent chills though my body. I looked back to the front seat, checking to make sure no one could see what was going on, and decided there was no point in fighting. Let them play their game; what could happen in a car? I closed my eyes and leaned back against my nephew; his erection, trapped between us, jerked.

I thought about how I'd spied on the two of them making love on the island. Maybe I was getting just what I deserved.

I replayed their love-making in my mind's eye. God they'd been hot.

I was getting turned-on, definitely tuned-on.

Well, I could play this game too. I rested a hand on Andrew's, ran my fingertips along his fingers. My phone pinged. Magda grabbed my purse and held it up to me; I reached inside for my phone - as I did Andrew's hand replaced Madga's on my left leg - and found a message from Madga: "It so turned us on when you watched us on the island. I'm a bit of an exhibitionist."

They knew.

I stared at her; she blew a kiss and slid her arm over my thigh to massage Andrew's inner thigh. His erection, still lodged against me, jumped, and he slid his hands up my legs, pushing my short dress aside. I looked down; I could see my flimsy pink panties and his fingers, now caressing my inner thighs, inches away. Goose bumps erupted over my body. When I looked to his co-conspirator Madga for help, he cupped my sex with his hand, pressed it to my panties; they were infused with moisture. I let out a low moan, instantly losing all credibility. Neither would believe my protests now.

He moved his hand to the top of my panties and a fingertip moved down to my swollen pussy lips, thick and engorged and increasingly warm as blood poured into them. The finger moved back up, running through my pubic hair, which I kept trimmed, then on the bare skin surrounding it. When he stroked my clit, I jerked. He went lower, grazing over my vulva, reaching my pussy, pushing a single finger inside me. I took a deep breath, found myself wanting him to go deeper, but his finger, covered in my juice, moved back up to my clit, drew circles around it.

Hands on my knees, I dropped my head forward, thinking about my sex, his finger.

His hand returned to my vagina, tricked over the opening, then thrust into my hole. I shook, hummed to myself. His fingertip curled inside me, ran along the roof of my vagina, hit my g-spot. I curled my toes and gasped. He placed the heel of his hand on my clit, worked another finger inside my sex, kissed my neck.

Then Madga's hand was between my legs. She took hold of my panties, motioned with her head for me to rise. When I picked myself up she hooked a finger around them and pulled my panties down, past my thighs to my knees, then leaning forward, worked them around my ankles and, after taking a whiff, stuffed them between her breasts.

Patrick noticed her movement and said, "Everything okay?"

Matthew pushed a second finger inside and said, "Doin' fine, everything is real smooth."

I leaned back against Andrew as he worked a third finger inside me. I was sodden with lust; he encountered no resistance. I moaned, soft and low; there was no reaction from the front seat.

Andrew sank his fingers deep inside me, wiggled them around, moved them in and out. I rocked my hips, matching his rhythm. I pressed my hand to his, showing him the motions I liked. Andrew was a quick learner; I murmured in delight, my entire body centered on those fingers.

Magda's hand was on my inner thigh, her rough fingertips expertly stimulating my skin.

I lost track of time, not knowing if we'd driven ten miles or thirty, my happy reverie interrupted only when I felt a tongue drag across my ear and Andrew whisper, "I need to move around." His hands on my hips, he raised me and directed me forward. My mind elsewhere, my movement was clumsy; I bumped the front seat. My sister paused her computer and said, "You guys okay back there?"

Andrew, his voice unruffled while his hands moved furiously behind me, said, "Just fine Mom. We're just shifting positions, trying to get a better angle. No need to stop."

"Andrew's right, there's no need to stop at all," I added.

"Okay."

Andrew pulled me back to him. His shorts was at his ankles; he was wearing no underwear. His dick was stiff and warm. I raised my body and Madga reached under us, took hold of his penis, rubbed the crown on my clit, then dragged it along my vulva to my sex. I rolled my hips slightly, centered it on my vagina, licked my dry lips, and lowered myself; he was inside me. He was big, bigger than I'd anticipated, and spread wide the walls of my pussy. I moaned.

Jasmine, engrossed in her movie, didn't notice; Patrick, on hold, did.

"Do you want to stop?"

I said in a breathless voice, a detail happily undetected by a man whose focus was already on his next phone call, "No, no, no need to stop. I'm doing just fine back here. We definitely should keep going."

Madga ran her hand along my back, expertly unhooked my bra. Andrew undid the bottom three buttons of my dress, slipped his hands inside, cupping the firm hot tit-flesh, squeezing and kneading.

I closed my eyes, focused, and keeping my head and shoulders still, wiggled my ass back and forward, rocking on his cock; his dick slid around inside me. I felt two fingers on my clit. My first thought was that it was Andrew, but he was busy rolling my small erect nipples between his fingers. Deeply aroused, through half-closed eyes, I looked down. Madga was working my clit. Then I noticed something else; her jeans were pulled down to her knees. Andrew let go of my left breast, pulled the hand from under my dress, pushed two fingers into her cunt.

We developed a happy rhythm. I jittered my hips in a short fast jerky motion. Andrew's hand on my breasts, focused on my nipples; Madga's fingers rolled my clit against my body; Andrew's dick in me, moved in short hard jabs. It was intense and wonderful and I felt an orgasm coming. Breathing in short strong gasps, I grabbed Andrew's left arm, pulled it from Madga's sex and across my face, and buried my mouth on it as the orgasm hit me, pulsating through me in a series of small focused waves. I squirmed and shook on his cock.

As it passed through me I fell back, oblivious to that fact that my full weight was on Andrew, drifting in a vague post-orgasmic miasma. I'm not sure how long this went on, but it ended with a sudden jolt. My eyes popped open. We were on the dirt road leading to the house; we had twenty miles to go. Andrew was still inside me, hard as ever. His hand was on Madga's sex, but the pace of the finger-fuck had slowed. I reached for his balls, held them, signaling I'd come back to the world. Andrew kissed my neck and began driving his fingers hard and deep into his girlfriend's sex.

Patrick hit a bump. Andrew's cock vibrated and jumped inside me. No man had used exactly that motion on me before; it was heaven.

Jasmine said to her husband, "Take you time dear, don't go too fast, we're not in a hurry.

Good advice I thought.

Andrew, in a carefully modulated voice, said, "Aunt Liz and I are doing a little bouncy-bouncy with this road, but its gonna end just fine."

When no one in the front seat reacted, Madga returned her hand to my clit and we caromed down the dirt road. Andrew's cock swirled and ground inside me, moving in an intense exquisite random series of jolts and bumps that neither of us could have duplicated and which visited places inside my cunt I didn't know existed. My pussy was flooded with moisture and as the road grew rougher, the motion of the truck greater, less predictable; it was ever more perfect. Then Madga took hold of my hand, pulled it to her sex; she was soaking wet. She placed the pad of my index finger on her clit, guided its motion. Magda was soaking wet. While I couldn't see what I was doing, but although I'd never touched another woman's sex, I quickly discovered what she preferred and was soon working her clit with confidence, settling my hand on her thick tangled thatch of pussy hair, so different from my neatly trimmed pubes.

Andrew licked my ear, tugged on my ear lobe, pulled his hand from under my dress, replaced Magda's on my clit. I slid my right hand inside my dress and pulled on my throbbing distended nipples.

In the front seat were two people, one yacking on his cell phone, the other watching a movie, wholly unaware of the carnal circus behind them.

The three of us went on and on, thrumming with concupiscent joy, until the house came into view and we had to let go. Madga pulled my head to hers and brought her lips to mine; we shared a kiss that would help muffle the sound of our orgasms. Andrew came first, pouring his cum into my pussy; then I came, my pussy spasming and shaking on his hard fat cock; then Magda, under the combined influences of my and Andrew's fingers, orgasmed. She squirted all over my seat, leaving behind what would become a stain that would be a happy souvenir of the evening.