I could see the car stop in the distance, closed my eyes and rode and rubbed… and erupted.
“God,” I moaned loudly, holding onto the word long enough that I assumed my husband would know I was coming right behind him as I was unable to not open my mouth as my orgasm hit me like a thunderstorm, my cum gushing out of me and onto my son’s cock and lap as I again grabbed the driver’s seat and pulled up, my son’s cock finally exiting my overheated pussy.
Thankfully, such a thought never occurred to him. Why would it? I was in the backseat with my son, as he said, clearly worried about my bladder, “Thirty seconds, honey.”
“Okay,” I weakly replied, as my orgasm ripped through me like a tornado.
I could feel my son fumbling underneath me, likely putting his cock, which I just realized I still hadn’t actually seen, away.
I just closed my eyes and allowed the tornado of pleasure to spin through me, an orgasm as intense as any I had ever experienced. Partly because my son’s cock was bigger than my husband’s; partly because of the taboo fact I had just fucked my son; and partly because of the crazy reality I had just fucked my son in a car with my husband inches away.
When he pulled in and stopped, my orgasm wasn’t complete. Yet, I had to look urgent, like I could pee myself at any moment, so I opened the door, more of my cum leaking down my leg, and got out of the car, glancing back to see my son smiling at me, his package safe and sound in his shorts… although a very clear stain of evidence visible if CSI was to investigate.
I scurried into the washroom, the guilt and shame of my indiscretion and incestuous act suddenly hitting me like the summer heat.
I… had… just… had… sex… with… my… son!
In… our… car!
With… my… apparently oblivious husband… inches… away!
Oh… my… God!
I… am… the… worst… mother… ever!
Worse yet!
It was amazing!
I may have been a bad mother, but I was a very good Mommy!
I got to the washroom and for the second time today I wiped my cum off my legs.
What had come over me?
Why did I let my son do that to me?
I could blame the confined space, but truthfully nothing stopped me from pushing him out of me.
Fuck!
Suddenly, he texted me:
That was amazing, Mommy.
Fuck!
I texted back, my orgasm finally subsiding, as a mother:
That can’t happen again!!!
He didn’t respond.
So as I finished cleaning up, I texted again:
I’m serious!
He again ignored the text.
I calmed down physically and suddenly realized I was feeling completely dehydrated after the work out.
I left the washroom and saw my husband and son chatting as they waited for me at a booth.
We ate lunch and although I was anxiety riddled the entire time, my son apparently had a poker face as he showed no inkling of what had transpired. I, on the other hand, had the guilt written all over my face.
Twice Alex asked if I was okay.
I just feigned hunger.
After lunch, and a lot of water, we prepared to continue the drive.
Alex had gassed up while I was in the washroom, so we were ready to go.
Again, my trepidation overwhelmed me.
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