Author's Note: all characters are 18+. This story contains dubious consent and taboo themes. If this is triggering for you, please click away now. This story is also inspired by the many others like it, I lay no claim to originating this idea, but I hope you enjoy my creative take on it. Enjoy!
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"I'm really hungry, can we stop soon?" Carly asked, her voice a little whiney as she leaned over the center console to pout at her father.
"Next rest stop is in five miles," my husband replied tiredly from the driver's seat.
Ethan, our son, groaned beneath me. "I don't want rest stop food! Can we eat at an actually restaurant, please?"
I patted his arm. "Can the princess wait that long?"
Carly glared at me in the rearview mirror. Because of all the boxes and suitcases of stuff piled high in the first row of seats of our SUV, she was only able to see her brother and I from the shoulders up where we sat in the third and last row.
"I'm not a princess," Carly snapped, her blue eyes hard and cold.
"Hey!" Bob clipped. "Don't talk to your mother in that tone."
"Sorry, Daddy." She pouted her lip and batted her eyelashes at him.
I rolled my eyes. Ever since becoming a teenager, Carly has been a hormonal mess. As high school went on, she distanced herself from me and became more of a daddy's girl. This surprised me, since it's usually the other way around. And if I'm completely honest, I was a little jealous over losing my baby girl's adoration to her father.
Carly's attitude got even worse now that she was eighteen because a feeling of entitlement came over her. Like just because she was legally an adult now, her behavior didn't matter and we couldn't discipline her. Bob and I were hoping that taking the twins on a road trip for the week leading up to taking them to their university would help bring us all closer.
Well, it wasn't really Ethan we needed closer. He was a good kid and kept to himself, following the rules and keeping his sister in check whenever he could. Sometimes I felt bad for him because our attention was mostly on Carly, making sure she wasn't getting herself into any trouble. Some days, it felt like I didn't even know my own son anymore. He'd grown up into a man right under my roof and I felt like I missed it!
"We'll wait till we find a good restaurant," Bob declared, his tone final. Carly made a disgruntled noise and looked out the window.
I squirmed in my son's lap, trying to get comfortable. Having both of their belongings shoved into the car hadn't been my best idea, but I didn't want to make the road trip adventure just to have to back track home to get their stuff before driving all the way back up to school.
No, we were doing this efficiently! Even if it meant having to relinquish the passenger seat to my whiny daughter and fold myself into the back row of seats on my eighteen year old son's lap.
Ethan's big, warm hands grabbed my hips, halting my movements. "Uh...how long do you think it'll take?" he asked.
"Not sure. If you see a sign for a restaurant, say something and we'll pull off."
"Okay." Ethan mumbled.
"I need to move," I told him, swatting at his hands. "I'm getting uncomfortable."
"Me too," he whispered, more to himself than me.
He let me go and I squirmed a bit more, trying to find a comfortable position. It was our fourth hour in the car like this with only one quick bathroom break. Although Ethan was warm, his hard and muscled body was getting to be uncomfortable to sit on.
The two seats in front of us were piled high with boxes and couldn't be moved forward, leaving little room for my 6'1" son's long legs. Because of this, his legs were bent right in front of him and I had to face forward, spread my legs, and straddle his legs. The boxes on the seat to our right and on the floor to the right of our feet made it impossible to switch up positions, so all I could do was squirm.
"Okay, seriously, Mom?" he hissed, grabbing my wide hips again.
"What?" It was then I felt it. Between the hard muscles of his thighs was something else. Something even harder. "Is that what I think it is?" I whispered harshly, accusingly.
"I can't help it," he murmured sheepishly. His breath puffed out against my neck, sending shivers up my spine. "You keep moving...and you're really soft..."
"What are you listening to?" I asked, yanking out one of his earbuds and hoping to change the subject or distract him. When I popped it in my ear, I gasped at the vulgar lyrics. "Well, no wonder you're so...so..."
"Hard?"
I blushed, smacking the side of his leg that was under mine. "Don't say that!"
"What? It's true." His hands tightened on my hips and he gave them a little pull, pulling my round, firm ass tighter against the cock hardening in his jeans.
A moment ago he was nervous, where did this bravado come from? Maybe it was the man in him sensing the womanly needs in me, mother or not.
"Ethan, stop it right now." I warned, my voice breathy and needy even to my own ears.
I was ashamed that I wasn't fighting him harder, being louder about my rejection so that maybe his father would get involved. But a little part of me-namely, my clit-didn't want him to stop. I wanted to see how far he was willing to ride this-pun intended.
It was so hot today that I had stupidly worn a thin dress. The fabric did nothing to shield my panty-clad pussy from the hardness of his young cock between my cheeks. Ethan made little grunting sounds as his hands on my hips ground my ass against his lap.
"Fuck, Mom!" he whispered in my ear.
"Watch your mouth," I scolded, pinching his wrist. It was hard to be stern with him when my breasts felt heavy and heat was pooling in my womb-the exact place he once came out of.
I felt something warm and wet against the shell of my ear-his tongue! I jerked my head away, hissing, "Don't do that! Your father and Carly can see!"
He scoffed. "They're not looking."
"If they do..."
"What? All they'll see is you blushing. They'll see you looking ahead. They'll see me looking down, thinking it's at my phone."
His hands started trailing up my sides, dragging my dress up with it until it bunched at my waist. To my horror, my hips kept up the slow, circular grind against his cock without his forced guidance. My creamy thighs and white cotton panties were on display for his hungry eyes to see.
Ethan went on, "But really, I'll be looking down at your tits."
With that, he pulled the cups of my yellow dress and bra down so that my full breasts could spill out. I let out a soft gasp as the air conditioning hit my already hard and sensitive nipples. It horrified me how sexually aggressive and presumptuous my son was being towards me-his own mother! But what horrified me even more was that I liked it. Not only did I like it, I was wet and wanting more of his attention. Lord knows Bob hadn't given me any lately.
"Just keep looking forward," Ethan ordered softly, his fingers tweaking my little pink nubs. "Do you like your nipples played with?"
"Yes," I whispered, switching my grind to a slow rock. I pressed down and dragged the cotton covered lips of my pussy over the long, hard ridge of his jean covered dick. The friction of our clothing made it burn even sweeter. "It makes me feel dirty," I admitted.
"You are dirty, dry humping your own son." He gave my nipples one final tug, one that was so hard it had me moaning.
"You okay back there?" Bob asked, lowering the music and flicking his concerned gaze to me in the mirror.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, my voice a little too high. My face looked flushed in the mirror, so I used that to my advantage. "Just a little hot back here. Could you turn up the air? I think some of the boxes are blocking the vents."
"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "Mom runs hot, too." Bob chuckled at that, completely oblivious to the double meaning, and turned up the air.
"What would you do if Dad caught us?" Ethan asked. He rubbed his hands over my taunt belly, the same one he'd grown in. "Would you apologize for being a dirty whore?"
"Hey..." I scolded, no real offense in my tone. My hands circled his wrists, holding him firmly, but I didn't stop his downward motion.
"What? You aren't a whore?" He slid his hand under my panties, his fingers skimming over my shaved mound. When his long, thick fingers spread my pussy lips, he was met with my embarrassing wetness. "Then why are you so wet?"
"I can't..." I trailed off as he started rubbing slow and hard circles on my clit. "I can't help it."
His fingers played with me for a little while, my hips rotating and grinding against him slowly and discretely as he did. That hard cock pressing against my ass and his fingers feverishly circling my clit had me biting my lip to keep my orgasm at bay.
Ever so often, as my son molested my willing and aching body, my husband would glance at me in the rearview mirror. A couple times, his brows would be drawn down tight, but I assumed it was either from deep concentration on the road or discomfort from driving so long. Each time we made eye contact, I sent him a hesitant but tender smile of reassurance. He didn't suspect a thing.
Ethan's fingers slid down through my labia and dipped into my entrance, making me gasp and rock forward. He made a tsk-ing sound in my ear, grazing his nose along the slope of my neck.
"Not so fast, Mom." He took his fingers out of my pussy, making me stifle a whimper, and then removed his hand from my panties altogether. "If you wanna cum, you're gonna have to do it on my cock."
I gasped softly, my entire body flushing. "Where in the hell did you learn to talk like that?"
He shrugged. "The guys on the team." Ah, his football buddies.
"Well, I'm your mother. You can't talk to me like that."
"You're not my mom right now."
He grabbed my panties and slid them down my thighs, letting them rest around my knees. Ethan reached between my legs with one hand, pulling me tight against his chest with the other.
