I-40

I played for two hours, stopped when I saw a cop come sauntering up the street. He had seen me, made his way in our direction. I picked up the money from the guitar case as the crowd faded away, not because of the cop but because I'd stopped playing. Mom came over and I handed her the handful of change and notes and she shoved them in her bag, knelt beside me and scooped up the rest. Neither of us had washed properly in three days but to me she smelled wonderful, earthy and musky, and my head span because I wanted her in a way a son wasn't meant to want his Mom, but I couldn't help my feelings. I'd have to keep them well hidden was all.

The cop stopped, not looking too fierce.

"I don't guess you got a permit for playing, do you?"

I stood, shaking my head. "We were passing through. Needed some money to eat."

He looked from me to Mom, back at me.

"College kid?"

I nodded.

"Your girl?"

I was about to say no when Mom slipped her arm through mine and said, "Yeah, his girl. We're trying to get to California."

"You know I ought to take you in for playing this way, don't'cha?"

I nodded, used to the routine. If I tried to protest he'd get pissed and make an issue of it. If I played meek he'd probably grow bored and let me off with a warning. I had no intention of playing anymore in Memphis. We had enough for a motel room tonight, and that was all I needed.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Where I come from it's usually OK."

"Where's that then?" he said.

"Baltimore."

"College kid?" he said again, as though I hadn't already told him.

I nodded again.

"My kid too. Goes to NYU. Man, it costs an arm and a leg."

"You got it right there."

He sighed, scratched his neck, and I knew we were good.

"Scat," he said. "I never seen ya."

I laid the Martin in the case and closed it up. Mom slipped her arm through mine.

"And kid."

We stopped. I turned back.

"You play real good. I like that Robert Johnson song, you caught that great."

I smiled, nodded. "Thanks, man."

"Scoot. Have a great time in California. I only wish I was still young and free and in love like you two."

I lifted a hand and Mom blew him a kiss and we walked back to find the two gangsta's sitting on the low wall surrounding the lot playing chess on a battered board with a mix of pieces. As we drove back out and onto the interstate Mom emptied the money from her bag into her lap, counted it out. There was a lot of change, but a fair scattering of fives, tens, and even a twenty.

"How much did we get?" I asked, glancing over, admiring her legs and berating myself. I had to stop thinking about Mom this way.

"Hundred and sixty-five and a bit. There's a ton of small change here, probably another ten or twenty dollars." She lifted her skirt and emptied everything back into her bag, scooted across and kissed me on the side of the mouth. "You did well, boyfriend." She laughed and I joined in, excited to have pulled it off, excited that she'd kissed me the way she just had, not like a Mom kiss at all, more like a girlfriend-boyfriend kiss. She was a flake, I knew, always had been, but I didn't want her to be any other way.

We pulled off in Palestine, drove through to the far side, further from the interstate, drove a little further until we came to a motel opposite a cluster of edge of town facilities. I parked up and went into the tiny office. Mom refused to go in, not wanting them to know we were sharing a room.

"They might think it's weird, a Mom and her nineteen year old son sharing."

They might think it weird?

The desk guy gave me a key to a double, and when I asked if they had any twin rooms he raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "Doubles is all we ever get asked for, buddy."

Ah well, I thought, it would still be a whole lot more space than we had in the back of the station wagon.

As we carried a change of clothes in together with our dirty stuff I told Mom she could take first shower. I lay on the bed, surfing channels on the TV. I hadn't watched television for over a year but nothing much seemed to have changed. New faces on American Idol, but I wasn't sure I could tell them from last year's.

Mom was an age getting clean, and I guessed she was washing her underthings, same as I planned when it was my turn. When the bathroom door opened I glanced across and almost gasped. She came out wrapped in only a white towel, pulled tight and tucked into itself between her breasts. The towel was big, but even so it barely covered her ass when she walked to the dresser. When she sat, it didn't cover her ass.

"Shower's all yours, boyfriend." She shot me a glance over her shoulder.

"Careful what you say lady, dressed that way."

She raised an eyebrow and winked. Impressive. Her grin though was pure Mom, wicked and willful and I got up and went into the bathroom. It was hot and steamy and smelled of shampoo and soap and Mom. When I stripped out my clothes my did and I stroked it once, shivering. There was no lock on the bathroom door. No way was I going to risk Mom catching me jacking off. I piled dirty underwear into the sink and ran it full of hot water, shook one of the little bottles of shampoo in there and gave everything a swirl around, left it to soak. I turned the shower on and stepped under. The water felt wonderful. I soaped up, washed my hair, soaped the stubble on my cheeks and stepped out to get the razor from my bathroom bag but it wasn't there. When I looked around I saw it resting on the little shelf stuck to the tiles in the shower. Mom must have been shaving her pits. I stepped back under and used the wet, misted mirror inside the shower and shaved myself.

When I was clean I stayed under the water a while longer enjoying the luxury. I saw why Mom had been so long in here. Finally I turned the water off and stepped out, dried myself and rinsed my underwear and hung it over the towel rain. Mom's panties were already strung up, tiny slips of pink and blue and red edged with lace. Just standing there looking at them my cock started to fill again and I turned away, angry with myself.

I pulled on my last clean pair of shorts and went into the bedroom to find Mom asleep on the bed. The towel had pulled loose revealing her breasts. I stared at her, taking in her beauty, entranced. She might be thirty-five, but I saw how people might take us as for couple because she didn't look it. She could be in her twenties, and the way she acted often made her seem way younger than her true age.

Mom scissored her legs in her sleep and I watched, waiting for her to reveal her pussy, but instead she made a groan and woke, fuzzy, smiling to find me stood at the foot of the bed in only my white boxer shorts. For a moment she didn't move, then slowly she drew the towel back over her breasts.

"Oops. Sorry, Joe. Guess I gave you a little burlesque show there didn't I? Sorry if I embarrassed you." She didn't appear in the least concerned.

"It's okay, Mom, I enjoyed the view."

She grinned and rolled off the bed, slapped me on my belly as she went past into the bathroom to dress. As she passed through the door she deliberately let the towel drop and I stared at her naked back and ass. She gave a little wiggle and looked back at me, grinning.

"There you go, you get see the other side as well." She laughed loudly, voice husky, and closed the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed, worrying about how I was starting to feel about her. She had always been Mom. Just Mom. Sure, as I got older I started looking at her as a woman, copping the odd glance when I had a chance. She was an attractive woman. A very attractive woman, and she deserved a whole lot better than to have a perverted son harboring illegal fantasies about her when he jacked off. I knew she deserved better, but lived with the guilt, incapable of not thinking of her that way.

When she came out I'd dressed in a clean white shirt and black jeans. Mom looked stunning in a short skirt and satin top. She had done something to her hair, putting it up so her neckline and jaw were on show, applied a little makeup and lipstick. She saw me looking and gave a strange smile, came across. She reached up and put her hands on my face, holding me, lifted up on her toes and kissed me full on the mouth. Not for long, but it sure as hell didn't feel much like a Mom kind of kiss.

"Come on boyfriend, let's go eat. I'm ready to kill a burger and fries."

We walked to the diner on the other side of the road, ate junk food and drank milkshake and I laughed at Mom's milk mustache. Walking back she put her arm through mine and I saw our reflection in a shop front. She could be in her twenties, not her thirties, long slim legs and those big boobs with hardly any sag in them -- even without a bra, I know that now -- and we looked like we really could be a couple.

Back in the room I let Mom use the bathroom first then get ready for bed while I went to brush my teeth. When I came out she was sitting up watching TV with the covers pulled over her breasts, but it was obvious she'd taken her bra off again. I was in shorts. I slipped under the covers and we both watched a show.

"God, but TV's so... boring these days." I'd nearly said so fucking boring, stopped myself in time. I knew Mom cussed with the best, but it would have felt odd to swear in front of her.

Mom laughed, said, "If we could afford it we could watch some porn."

"Mom!" I sounded shocked and she laughed even more. The cover slipped down and showed a nipple and she pulled it up only slowly.

"What, you telling me you've never watched porn? Never ever ever?"

"Well..."

She laughed again. "Go on, tell me what you watched."

"Mom," I said again.

"I'll tell if you will." She was in a strange mood, high on life or the journey, her eyes sparkling and a flush on her cheeks. I could feel the heat emanating from her, smell the scent of soap and shampoo and... something else, something I recognized and chose to ignore.

"Go on then. Dare you," I said.

"Don't dare me, Joe. You don't know I might do it."

"Tell me then, Mom, when did you first watch porn?" I was hard again, the thin cover barely hiding my arousal.

"I was a few years older than you are now. Late starter, I guess. Not with Hank or Ricky. Me and Sarah. I used to go stay with her when Hank was on tour and we'd go down to the store and rent a dirty movie and-" Mom stopped suddenly, and I wondered what she had been about to say.

"Aunt Sarah's into porn as well?"

Mom slapped me back handed, dislodging the sheet. She didn't seem to notice her right nipple was revealed. "What d'you mean, as well? I'll have you know I was an upstanding married woman. It was that slutty young sister of mine led me astray. Your turn now."

"Not yet. You haven't told me what you watched." I tried hard not to look at her breast. I wondered how her nipple would feel against my tongue, how hard it would grow, guilt warring with want.

"Sarah watched all kinds."

"But not you, huh? Did you keep your eyes closed then?"

She laughed. "No, I didn't."

"Did you enjoy it, Mom?"

She was quiet a moment, noticed her display and pulled the cover back. Damn.

"I guess I did."

"Aunt Sarah too?"

Mom chuckled. "Oh, Sarah loved it. Really loved it. She's got a whole shelf of hard-core. Maybe if you ask nice when we get there she'll let you watch some. All kinds of porn, she's got."

I couldn't believe it. Mom's sister was four years her junior and always looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. My imagination was running riot, picturing Mom and Aunt Sarah sitting together watching porn, probably getting worked up, maybe even jilling off side by side. My cock was aching like it had never ached before, the heat of Mom's body next to mine not helping one little bit.

She said, "Look away a minute, Joe?"

I turned my head, watched in the mirror above the dresser as she sat up straight and arranged the pillows behind her. The cover fell to her waist, breasts swaying as she arranged the bedding. Then she sat up and pulled the covers over herself.

"You can turn back now. Okay, your turn. When did you watch porn?"

"At college. In the dorm. There's plenty stuff floating around."

"Did it turn you on?"

"Sure, some of it."

"Some of it?" She smiled. "What kind of things turn you on, Joe?"

"Is this an appropriate conversation to be having with your son, Mom?"

Her smiled turned into a grin and she shook her head. "Probably not, but I feel a liberated woman. That bastard's finally gone and I'm on the road with the man I love most in the whole world and I don't care about appropriate anymore." She slid across and hugged herself against me and the cover went again and her breasts pressed into my side and I sat there rigid and waited for her to move back but she didn't. Mom said, "Am I freaking you out talking like this?"

I shook my head, neck muscles tense. "You're not freaking me, Mom. It's just... a little weird is all."

"We've always been best friends haven't we?"

"Sure."

"I wouldn't want to make this trip with anyone else. I'm loving every single minute of it." She snuggled closer. "Give your Mom a hug, why don't'cha."

I lifted my arm and she came in close, leaning against me and I hesitated, not sure where to put my hand, finally resting it on her shoulder. She smelled good from the shower, her body pressed tight against my side, left arm wrapped over my bare stomach, skin to skin everywhere and she half turned and her belly pressed against my hip and a leg came over my thigh and I realized she wasn't wearing any panties either, and that the junction of her thighs was smooth and hairless. Oh shit, I thought, oh double to God shit.

"You wanna watch some porn? I'm sure you got enough cash left to pay for a film if you want."

"Don't, Mom."

"You can if you want. I won't mind. I'd like to watch some myself. Go on, do it, let's watch people having sex."

"This is wrong, Mom."

She wriggled against me. "I know. But I don't really care. Do you?"

I didn't say anything, not knowing what to say, then weakly came out with, "I don't think we should."

She sighed. "No, I guess you're right. I am your Mom after all, and I'd only traumatize you if I started frigging myself." She giggled, sounding like a teenager. Hell, feeling like a teenager under my arm.

"No you wouldn't," I said.

"I wouldn't? You sure you don't wanna watch some?"

"I'm sure."

She chuckled, not sounding like a teenager anymore. "Does it shock you knowing your Mom brings herself off?"

"No," I said, and she laughed again, hearing the stiffness in my voice.

"I bet you jack off all the time. I know I couldn't get enough of doing myself when I was your age. I guess that's where you came from. I never could say no to a good lookin' fella."

I honestly couldn't think of a single answer for her that wouldn't make me feel bad so instead I reached for the remote and turned the TV off.

"I guess you're tired," she said. "And I'm being wicked teasing you. Ready for sleep?"

I nodded. "I guess." Not ready at all. Ready to get my raging cock out in front of Mom and stroke myself more like. Ready to watch her finger her shaved pussy in front of me. Ready for... well, ready for whatever she offered. Three days on the road and I was lost, smitten, besotted, infatuated and obsessed.

"G'night Joe" she said, turning my face to hers and kissing me on the mouth again, longer than before, with more heat and passion. I resisted the urge to raise my hand and cup her breast, knowing that wasn't what she wanted. I didn't think that was what she wanted. That couldn't be what she wanted. This was only Mom free after sixteen years to be herself, reveling in the chance to be young again.

I broke the clinch before she did, rolled over and turned off the lamp. Mom rolled the other way, putting space between us and I felt myself relax. What the fuck?

Sleep eluded me. The clock radio on the nightstand showed the wrong time but I'd worked out it was three and a half hours slow, so at ten-thirty I was still awake. At eleven I was starting to doze when I felt the bed shiver. I lay on my back, trying to ignore the ache in my cock. I was starting to get used to it now, achieving some kind of accommodation with my constant arousal. The bed shivered again, shaking a little more, a rhythmic movement as Mom started to jill herself.

She must have thought I was asleep. God, sure she must have thought I was asleep.

The bed shook gently, Mom trying to keep her movement to a minimum, but her breathing came faster and after a minute she kicked the covers down on her side to let air touch her skin. Orange light came in through the thin drapes and in its glow I saw her breasts shimmer and shake. Her hand was down beneath her thighs, barely masked by the covers gathered there. Sounds came now, wet liquid sounds as her fingers dipped into herself. Her free hand rolled her breasts, pulled at her nipples. Her eyes were closed, offering me permission to view her without fear of discovery. I ached to stroke my cock and couldn't, knowing I would erupt instantly. Mom might want to make herself come, but I bet she sure as hell didn't want her son soaking the bed with his ejaculate. I dreaded to think how much cum I might deposit. My balls felt huge and potent, my cock a steel rod lying flat against my belly, poking up above the waist of my shorts. Mom had come to bed naked but I couldn't do that. The scent of her came to me, rich and redolent, promising a taste I wanted to experience on my tongue. I pretended to move in my sleep, kicking my legs so the sheet slid down further and she lay revealed, one long leg lying clear, the junction of her thighs exposed, her hand cupped there, fingers disappearing inside, and I saw she truly had shaved herself there, not her armpits but between her legs, and I wondered what in hell that meant.

Mom stopped when I moved the covers, waiting to see if I was waking. I snuffled and rolled onto my side, eyes heavily lidded. Mom's were wide open now, staring at me, and I breathed heavily and mumbled. Three minutes passed while I tried to keep my breathing even, then she started moving her fingers again. Her eyes closed once more and I opened mine wider. She was beautiful. Her breasts were large and mobile, the nipples now hard as bullets and almost as long. Her belly pinched in at the waist as she clenched her muscles. Her left leg rose, bent at the knee, and her fingers dipped in and out of her soaking pussy, the scent and sound making it hard for me to lie still. The bed shook, shook harder as she sped up, her climax getting close.

Her breath came in gasps, and I think even if she knew I was awake she couldn't have stopped now. She muttered, head rocking slowly from side to side, words gradually emerging, a barely coherent stream of consciousness.

"Yes... there, do it there... uh... oh fuck yes, like that... no, use your tongue... no, you can't, oh god no you can't fuck me, you can't... oh god yes, like that, fuck me like that... oh god no, you can't... you can't..." Her voice rose in pitch and the bed shook violently. How she thought I could sleep through it I had no idea. Maybe she didn't care, beyond caring now.

She lifted her knees, arching her back as the pleasure took her, hand pushed deep between her legs as though she was trying to force an entire fist inside. She gave a whimpering cry, another, then slowly her knees dropped and she straightened her legs. Her breathing stayed heavy for a minute and then she rolled onto her side. I lidded my eyes, feigning sleep. Mom gazed at me, reached out and touched my chest with her fingers, still wet from where they had been inside her. She ran her hand down my belly, stopped and looked. My cock still jutted free of my shorts and I realized she would see how hard I was, how wet my glans had become. She moved her hand down, almost touching the head of my cock, stopped.