A Mom, Her Son, and His Lap

God, I thought as his cock pressed harder against me. Fine, grind me on your dick, Colt; I won't fight you.

But my fucking son had other plans.

His hands left me, and I felt him try to push down his shorts a little at a time. I shook my head and pulled the blanket further up my body as if that could protect me. Colt gave his shorts a shove, but he couldn't get them down.

Again, my husband switched to the left lane so he could pass a car on the right, and as he did, Colt humped his hips upward, bouncing me on his lap as he pushed his shorts down his thighs. By the time his father looked left, I had sat back down on my son's bare cock. His swollen meat lay horizontally between us like a balance beam made of iron that my pussy was now straddling.

Oh my god, I thought, feeling the thickness of that pole pushing upwards against my muffin folds. This wasn't happening—but it was, and my pussy was kissing the topside of my son's cock and leaving it soaked. Looking down, I saw our blanket dissolve into nothing, and the image of my son's knob sitting between my thighs as his shaft pressed into my slutty crevice filled my mind with pornographic glee.

I shook my head again, then looked around as the world seemed to brighten. I felt . . . funny, lightheaded, like I was floating. Was I going to faint? I had never fainted before. I had never—

Oh, oh—oh, no!

Colt had slid me forward and his ass back as far as it could go. His knob touched my backdoor, then slid forward into the bottom of my pussy lips. What was happening? This couldn't be happening. My pussy throbbed, my clitty tingled, and my nipples ached. Oh boy, oh fucking boy, my son was not about to fuck me. No way. No fucking way.

Why not; you've fucked your sister, I thought. And she's fucked you to please your husband and each other.

I pushed myself down on Colt's lap hard. I wouldn't let him do this. Even though his glans against my lips made my cunny hum and my juices run. A sexual heat ran through me, warming my core. I slid backward, pressing my bare ass against my son's waist and getting his mushroom tip back between my thighs. With my right hand, I reached down and squeezed the outside of his thigh, then I slid my hand between my legs, moving the blanket as little as possible. I took a deep breath, then I reached between us and grabbed my son's knob, giving it a hard squeeze.

Colt sighed and squirted a messy wad of precum into my palm.

I looked at his father, who had his eyes on the road as our car flew down the highway. The faster my husband drove, the more I felt the engine's power surging through my son and into my pussy, making me tingle all over. What would his cock feel like with that power reverberating through him?

No, don't think about that! But it was too late. Like every sexual adventure I had ever been on, by the time I came to my senses, it was already too late, and I wasn't even close to regaining my senses.

I squeezed my son's knob again, then ran my cum-slick thumb over the head of his cock. He shook beneath me. His big hands found my waist, and he grabbed onto me, pushing me forward and pulling me back, using slow movements as I tried to keep my upper body still while my pussy played Slip 'N Slide on my son's juicy dick.

You're going to do this, I thought, or my pussy thought for me, I didn't know. If men could think with their little heads, then I could think with my twat. You've got to, just this once, and you'll never talk about it. Never ever. Never ever ever.

I stretched my left hand from under the blanket, careful not to reveal too much, and I turned the music up a little bit more. Dex said nothing, staying focused on the road. I pulled my hand back, reached down, and squeezed my son's right thigh, then I turned to my left and looked into the backseat, lifting my ass as I did. My son's cock sprang up as much as it could, finding the bottom of my slit as if guided by God.

"You feeling okay, Lana?" I said, trying to keep the tremors of pleasure from my voice.

Lana lay still against the door, sleeping; I hadn't spoken that loud to her.

As I went to sit back down, I felt the head of my son's cock between my pussy folds. He had his fist around his shaft, holding his magic wand straight up. With his eyes on the road, my husband never noticed how I lifted my body higher than I needed to or how I slid my pussy onto my son's knob then sank down upon his dick. My husband, Colt's father, didn't see me bite my lip or look at him with an, I'm so sorry expression, nor did he see my eyes widen as I slowly lowered myself down the meatiest cock shaft I had ever felt in my life.

"Uh," I moaned, unable to stop myself, but I held most of the emotion back within my chest, then I clenched my teeth as I slid down my son's hard pole.

Oh, oh, oh, I moaned within my head as that wonderful, almost painful stretch spread my pussy lips wide. Even with my thighs spread beneath the blanket, getting that cock up my cunny tunnel was a tight fit. The tingling in my pussy spread outward, from my lips to my clit to my asshole to my stomach and down my thighs, unrelenting in the pleasure it brought me. My face burned hot, and I looked at myself in the side view mirror, seeing the pink flush in my cheeks and nose—I had the expression of a woman taking a cock for the first time.

When I finally sat my naked ass against my son's lap, a low groan left my lungs, but my husband never turned his head—he was in the middle of passing a car.

God, I thought, I can feel my baby boy in my guts.

Just a little bigger than his father? Maybe, but that extra bit of thickness and half-a-head more of cock was big enough to make me feel like a virgin again. Thank God I was wet. Thank God I was so juicy down there. Thank God my cunny had creamed itself for the last forty minutes, turning me into a gushing well of ready-to-be-fucked pussyhole.

God, I'm a slut, I thought, but I wasn't a slut for just anyone. I was a slut for my husband. I loved being a slut for Dex, and now I was a slut for my son and his big, juicy dick. I want to suck it. I hung my head, looking down through the blanket, trying to picture that big mean dick inside of my poor little pussy, bullying my lips open right before it rode me like an animal all night long.

My son flexed his cock inside of me.

My nipples tightened—Jesus, that swelling of his fuck-trunk had sent a spasm of ecstasy through me that left my toes shaking in my tennis shoes. I wanted to turn around, lift my legs, and put those shoes on either side of my son's head as he split me in half.

Do it, baby, just tear my pussy up, I thought, but we couldn't fuck like that in the car. Even my speed-obsessed husband would notice that kind of fucking.

Colt swelled his cock again. I moaned in silence. My boy gripped my waist with his left hand, pushed his right under my right ass cheek, laying his little finger in my crack, and he gave my bun a hot squeeze, then he moved me on his cock.

Oh, fuck!

He moved me slowly, slightly, but move me on his dick he did, swelling his cock as he used my pussy as his own personal fuck-slot. He turned his hips, rubbing his spongy, yet oh-so-firm, head against my soft insides, making me feel his dick up there—letting me know what kind of fucking I could expect when we were alone.

When? my mind shouted at me. When? We can't do this again.

But we're gonna, I thought, lost in the tide of bliss that was my son's cock. We're gonna. We're gonna get this cock again. Yes, we are. Yes, we fucking are.

What the hell was wrong with me?

It didn't matter because I started moving my butt in tiny circles while trying to keep my upper body still. Not that it mattered, my husband had his eyes on the road, focused behind his sunglasses, while his son fucked me in the seat next to him. It felt so good, but I wanted more. I wanted a nice, long cock-pump up my tight pussy.

As if reading my mind, the next time my husband passed a car, my son bounced me on his cock. Up I went, shaking, and down I came, losing my breath when his dick filled me up again. His knob hit something soft, sending a wave of pleasure through my body and a stream of light through my vision. Again, the next time my husband passed a car, up my cunny went, down it came, making me grunt behind my closed lips. That's what I needed. Fuck, just give me a good pounding half a dozen times, and I'd come. But we didn't have that kind of freedom, did we?

No, fuck, we didn't.

Instead, I leaned back against my son and turned my hips in a circle, grinding my pussy on my son's teen meat. I lowered my right hand to his wrist and pulled his hand upward over my thigh and garter suspenders and between my legs where I was the hottest. My boy got the idea, and he ran his hands down my wet muff, playing with my pubic hair cross, then going lower as a surge of body-shaking pleasure filled my body. When his middle finger touched my clit, I came, clenching my teeth and looking to the left, outside of my window, as my lower body humped my son's cock back and forth.

Oh, holy shit, I moaned on the inside as my body trembled and my face tightened. Oh, oh, oh, oh god, mmm, fuck, yeah.

I grabbed my son's hand, trying to get his finger off my buzzing jewel, but there was no fighting his strength. He ground me against his dick, flexed his shaft inside of me, and fingered my pearl without giving me a break.

Oh, shit—no! I thought as I came again. No, no, no!

This time, I lowered the window a few inches, doing the same for the back window. I think my husband glanced at us, but he said nothing as the wind tore through the car, cooling my sweating body as another mini orgasm rolled through me.

Fuck, my son was going to get us caught.

I grabbed his soaking wet fingers again. I pulled up, and the little bastard slid his hand up and under my dress, over my slender tummy, and grabbed onto my right breast. My nipple throbbed beneath his palm, bending as he rubbed my tit in a circle. Electric pulses shot through me, and I arched my back, forcing my ass harder into his lap and my pussy lower onto his cock. His knob pushed through me, searching for the closest thing I had to virgin pussy meat. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out as I came again. This time, my son only swelled his cock within me as I bathed his incest dick in my golden honey.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, I thought. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't.

"No more," I begged, sounding helpless and beat and on the verge of tears. "No more."

"We're almost there," my husband said. "I can't slow down now."

I looked up through the windshield. I recognized the hills around us. Mansions appeared on my left every quarter-mile with short roads leading to their courtyards. We were almost to my in-laws' home. Thank God. My son squeezed my tit again, but he didn't grind me on his cock, so I let him have my breast and my nipple as I sat as still as I could with his prick buried deep inside me. Still, without him moving, I felt every little surge of power the Porsche's engine had, and by the time we pulled into my in-laws' driveway, I had come one more time. It had been so tiny . . . but oh-so-good.

Finally, the road trip was over . . . but wait, my son hadn't come yet.

"Holy shit," Dex said, looking at his watch. "That's a new record, baby." He turned to me, then leaned toward me, smiling. "And you know why? Because you let me drive fast."

He pursed his lips, leaning closer to me, and I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his while his son's dick stretched my pussy from top to bottom.

"And," he said when we broke the kiss, "I didn't use the restroom at the pit stop."

I uttered a breathy laugh as my son swelled his prick inside of me.

Dex opened the door, calling, "I'll send someone for the bags," as he raced toward his parents' home.

"Mom," Colt whispered in my ear, pushing his lips against my nun's veil. "I need to come."

"But," I gasped as my son grabbed my ass and raised me up his cock, "your sister."

He dropped me on his dick, knocking the air out of me. He lifted me again, emptying my pussy, then dropped me again, making me gasp. Lana made a noise. I threw my blanket off my body, looking down at my stockings, at my garters, at my nearly bald mound, and my son's big balls beneath my vanilla pie. Holy shit, this was hot! Then my son bounced me on his lap while jackhammering his rock-hard dick into my pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" I gasped in surprise at the sudden ramming.

"What," Lana said, yawning, "what's going—Colt! Mom too!"

Mom too?

Lana opened her door, exiting as my son bounced me on his lap. She turned around and said, "You asshole!"

She stamped her foot and slammed the door, walking off toward the house.

"She'll—mmm—get over it," Colt moaned. "We're allowed to—oh, fuck, Mom, that pussy's good—fuck other women."

How could I be so—oh, oh, oh, fuck—stupid!

"Hurry, Colt," I gasped, looking through the windshield at my in-law's backdoor. "Hurry before someone comes."

"Help me come, Mom," Colt said, sliding his ass down the seat and holding me by my ass cheeks. "Work that pussy on my dick."

I huffed, I puffed, I moaned as his dick hit me deep. I drew my knees back, closing my thighs and puffing out my pussy, then I placed my feet on the dashboard and held myself up, giving my son's long prick some room to thrust. Colt moaned, picked up his pace, and soon the sexy sounds of his lap smacking my ass filled the car.

I squeezed my pussy muscles as my insides spasmed. My son stretched me so much, and now that he was piston-fucking my soaking wet snatch, my entire body wanted to burst in ecstasy. Colt jackhammered me, fuck, he fucked me like a thoroughbred sprinting for its life. My clitty swirled with unreleased pleasure as my son's fuck-stick plunged the cum out of my body. I reached down with my left hand, sliding my fingers over my mound, getting the tips on my clit between my thighs. With my right hand, I reached around my ass cheek, found my son's balls, and massaged them.

"Oh, oh, oh, fuck—Mom!" Colt shouted, burying his bone to the balls inside of my cunt.

"Colt!" I screamed as the pleasure building within me exploded, sending wave after wave of orgasmic bliss through my body. I had never felt so wet between my legs. I had never drenched my husband's balls with this much cum. I had never in my life came so hard. . . . This was something every mother should experience with her son, or sons, however many she had. . . .

I stood in my son's room, having changed out of my nun's costume and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a proper bra cupping my tits and a pair of lacy, boy short panties protecting my tender twat.

Colt was sitting on his bed, with the gas station blanket around his waist and his half-filled bottle of water in his right hand. He had poured it on his lap to explain why he was so wet. His sister, my daughter—his sister!—sat next to him on his bed, in her sweats. She didn't look so mad now as I stared down at her. My maternal gaze had knocked them back into their childhoods.

I had a speech prepared to throttle them with, but then I saw their costume lying on the bed next to them. It was a tandem costume of a hotdog bun and a wiener. My son would wear the hotdog bun, and connected to him from the front, his sister would wear the wiener. I ignored my children as I checked their costumes and found what I knew I'd find: A hole that would allow them to secretly fuck in the middle of everyone: friends, family, guests, and the catering staff—everyone!

I looked at my adult children, and they shrank back from me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked, and after a harsh mother-to-her-children scolding, I went back to my room and washed the cum out of my nun's costume in secret.

Later that night, I dressed as a nun once again for my in-laws' Halloween party, but this time I wore my come-fuck-me heels, and I left my panties in the drawer.

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