Alone In The Motorhome With My Son

"Linda, would you just leave me alone for once?" my husband snaps at me for the crime of suggesting we have a cozy night in our motorhome instead of drinking cheap, horrible beer at the cheap, horrible bar at the campsite. He zips his brown leather coat up, reaching for the door.

My cheeks flare up. "Are you joking?" I yell. "We come out here to spend time as a family. That's why we paid an arm and a leg for this fucking motorhome!" And no wonder, it's a beautiful machine. A kitchenette tucked neatly against the wall features a fold-out stove and sink combo, complemented by storage compartments for utensils and snacks. Opposite, a modern seating area doubles as a dining space by day, with cushions that convert into a snug sleeping area by night. Overhead we store our belongings in the cabinets, while a skylight above brightens the space in soft, natural light by day, and gives a dazzling view of the stars by night.

"Come to the bar then?" David won't even look at me, and a vein throbs at his temple. He clicks the door handle and opens the door, letting the cold night air flow into the van. My son, Jack, and his girlfriend, Sarah, both sit on the bed together at the back, pretending they can't hear nor see us arguing as they have their earphones in, watching videos on their phones. It makes me feel awkward, and ashamed that I let myself rage like this in full view of them. But my husband tests my patience like this a lot.

I shake my head, letting out an exasperated laugh. "Why? So I can sit with you and those pervs and watch you look at younger women all night?"

David just laughs, shaking his head, then steps outside, getting lost amidst the park of motorhomes lined up in neat lines, each twinkling with light from their windows. "Fine, I'll just spend the night alone, then!" I yell, now feeling tired from the stress flaring inside me. I hate arguing, yet it is such a frequent occurrence nowadays, especially when we go on holiday as a family.

Of course, I wouldn't have to spend the night alone if I didn't want to. I may be in my late thirties, but I've kept myself in good shape, my hips wide, my stomach toned, with a little bit of tiger stripes from delivering a child, but I always liked them. It reminds me of how far I've come as a woman, and the amazing son I produced. My legs are thick from squatting, and despite some weight loss, I've kept my big tits. Not as firm as they used to be, but bigger and my husband likes them better. I could easily go and sleep with another man around here if I really wanted to, men always hit on me when I'm out with my friends, asking if I'm married, and I just flash them my finger, wrapped in a golden band. I could find someone's husband, catch him alone in the night, or I could even flirt with one of the old perverts my husband drinks with all night in that bar, that would make for a round of entertainment.

But I won't. I'll stay in the motorhome and calm myself. "Sorry you guys had to hear that," I say to my son and his girlfriend lying on the bed, knowing they can hear me, knowing they listened to that entire exchange.

Jack acknowledges me with a curt nod, quickly returning his green eyes to his phone screen. He's handsome, stubble grows across his chin, sprinkling his sharp jawline with specs of black. He's been trying to grow it since he was 18. Just a foot taller than me, his muscles toned from doing calisthenics at home.

Sarah pulls her earphone out, taking her attention away from the phone. "It's okay, Linda. Don't worry about me. They have dancing on in the hall at the park center, I'm going with some of the girls we met earlier today if you'd like to come?" She's a pretty girl, slender with wavey ginger hair that cascades over her shoulders, held back by a beige headband that exposes her forehead, her eyes a crystal blue, matching with the little necklace she wears.

I smile, her consideration warming my heart. My son got lucky with her. "I appreciate the thought, sweetie, but I think I'll just have a glass of wine and watch a movie." I don't know if I'm in the mood for a horror or rom com, or maybe something about how shit husbands can be.

"We're just down the road if you change your mind." She gets up, her shorts rolling up her tanned, smooth legs. I can't help but compare them to mine, where mine are thicker and there's a bit of cellulite, but I've found some men enjoy that.

I know I still got it.

Sarah pulls on my son's shirt, prying his attention from his screen. "Are you coming, Jack? We have to get ready."

His face contorts with uncertainty, and he rests his hand against the back of his head. "I think I'm just going to stay in tonight, have an early one. Travelling wore me out."

Sarah sighs, giving him a blank look. I can tell she's restraining from snapping at him due to my presence, she doesn't want to cause a scene. I find it amusing, though I don't show it on my face. It's not too different from the confrontation I just had. I go to the kitchenette to try and give them a bit of privacy and wash some dishes.

They talk in hushed tones, with Sarah pressing him that he'd promised they'd do something tonight, and Jack just saying he's tired from a workout he did earlier. She eventually gives in and puts her coat on, bidding me goodbye for now.

"You didn't want to go dancing with your girlfriend?" I walk past the bed, going to sit in the chairs that come out of the walls.

Jack looks at me and shakes his head. "I hate dancing, and my back and legs are sore from a new workout I tried. I don't think I did it properly." His face tenses as he rubs a hand across his shoulder.

"Are you hurting?" I say.

"Yeah." His phone plays some annoying music as we talk.

I get up, walking by the bed, and I pinch his shoulder, the muscles hard, and I have to really work my fingers in. "It hurts here?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "And a bit lower."

I run my hand down, working my fingers into the muscle. I'm quite the armature masseuse. "Turn around. I can't get it all when you're lying on your back."

Jack throws his phone to the side and turns, lying across the bed on his belly. I work my hands across his muscular back, digging my thumbs deep into the tissue. He sighs with relief. "Yeah, that's the spot. A bit lower."

"Here?" I do as he says, but my motions are restricted. "Take your shirt off, it's getting in the way." He pushes himself up with his arms, ripping the shirt off, his back like a rugged landscape of tensing muscle. It doesn't really seem weird to us; not like I haven't seen him topless before. I raised him, I've bathed him, I dressed him, you name it.

"Yeah, that's the spot," he sighs, his eyes shut. I'm impressed with myself; he's genuinely enjoying it.

I work my hands down his lower back. "You said your legs hurt as well?"

"Yeah, they're really sore."

"I'll need oil for that. Take your jeans off and I'll get some from the cupboard." I go toward the cabinets, looking for some olive oil. Actual massage oil may have been better, but it works the same anyway.

"Uhm." He hesitates, glancing at me. "Sarah might think it's a bit weird."

I grab the olive oil, walking back towards the bed. "What, a mother taking care of her son? I used to massage you after your football games, remember? She should do it herself if she thinks it's so weird."

He shrugs. "I guess she isn't as close with her parents as we are."

I open the olive oil. "Would she think you getting a sports massage is weird too? At least this way you don't pay for it."

"No, I guess not," he says nonchalantly, and turns around to unbutton his jeans.

Weird, I think to myself. It's not like I'm stripping him naked, I just want my son to be comfortable and not in pain.

Jack kicks his jeans off and lies face down again, his legs are hairy, and the skin tone whiter the more it goes up his thighs, compared to the tanned brown of his calves. I rub some olive oil into my hand, working it into his legs. I rub it into the muscles of his calves, they feel like steel, and work slowly up to the softer upper leg, going along his thighs. "That better?"

He sighs, breathing slowly. "Tons better. Go down a bit, it feels twisted there."

I go towards his inner thigh as instructed, trying to avoid his bulge. It's not like I can't see it through his underwear, my finger brushes against the tip of his cock on accident a few times. I feel a little awkward for brushing it, but he told me to go lower, what can I do? We both ignore it.

Once done with that leg, I switch to the next, massaging the calf and upper leg, then working to the thigh. "Just a little lower," he says again, so I do as he bids. Again, my finger brushes past his bulge, just ever so slightly. There's no way he hasn't felt that, either the first or the other times. A small part of me wonders if he asked me to do that on purpose... A strange thought, yet surprisingly, not one I'm entirely repulsed by. I would have already assumed it now of any other man were he getting massaged by me, but not my son.

As I keep working his thigh, my suspicions are confirmed. His bulge is growing, his dick getting thicker the more my hands work. And yet, I find myself not stopping. My heart rate goes up, the fire of excitement tingling through my veins. This time, my fingers brush past his dick again.

On purpose.

The tip is stiffer, the shaft longer. I'm making him hard.

I sort of hope he will be more direct, just ask me to brush over it, fondle it a bit, but I don't think even he is that brave, and my son is a bit of a ladies' man. But I can be direct, I have the experience, and I know how to hack a man's mind. I've done it many times before.

When I bring my hands up past his thigh, I keep climbing, massaging his glutes. I give his ass a nice squeeze, and he moans, but says nothing. Does nothing. His dick looks erect under there now, and a lusty grin stretches on my lips.

My husband wants to go out and perv on younger women? Fine, I have plans of my own.

"You like that?" I say to him, giving his toned ass another squeeze, its quite firm and a nice handful. Then I smack it.

"Yeah," he says, still with his eyes shut, not looking up at me. I can't believe this is happening. The naughty feel of it, the thrill, it's making my pussy soak through into my panties.

After rubbing my hands across his ass, I slip my fingers over his underwear and peel them off, revealing his hard, veiny dick and balls, struggling to stand as it's pressed between his legs. It's big and meaty though. His girlfriend is a lucky girl, but now I'm going to have my share. I walk around the bed, shutting the blinds on the windows. Can't have anyone peeping in.

I turn him around so that he's on his back, the lights overhead highlighting his toned abs and the sharp V line leading down to his dick, which is now standing erect like a tower. "Didn't think you'd be getting a happy ending from your mother tonight, did you?"

He just laughs, shutting his eyes and letting himself get carried away in the moment. I don't blame him; I don't think I'd know what to say either.

I rub some more olive oil on my hands, then take his shaft, massaging it as I twist back and forth. "Ohhhh," he groans. I let him enjoy that for a bit, watching the clear pre-cum leak from the tip.

Then, I stop, taking a bobble from my wrist and trying my brown hair back into a ponytail. He sees me doing this and smiles, the way his eyes light up with lust turns me on so much. I kneel down and glaze my tongue over his tip, savouring that bitter taste of pre-cum. I swirl my tongue over it a little more before taking the shaft in my mouth, letting his cock go all the way to the back of my throat, drizzling into my mouth as it moves. I look up, directly into my son's eyes as I do it.

He makes eye contact sometimes, then closes them again, letting his head roll back. The thrill of it, the silent fear that we may get caught makes my pussy drip, the heat rushes between my legs in lush tingles. What if my husband were to come back now and see this, or my son's girlfriend? What would they say? I can only imagine the shock on their faces.

But it doesn't stop me. I bob my head up and down faster, gripping the base of his shaft harder and stroke it gently. "Oh, mom," he moans.

I let his hard cock fall out of my mouth, saliva still clinging from the tip to my lips in a curvy string. "That's not all you're getting." I roll my top up and throw my shirt off, revealing my huge tits still held in my laced bra. His eyes fall on them immediately. I crawl on top of him and bend over, touching my lips to his as my tongue goes down his throat.

I moan lightly as his strong hand grabs my neck, my pussy throbbing with heat and excitement. His hands reach over my shoulders and unclip my bra. I get back up, throwing it off and letting my massive tits fall out. "My god," he sighs, staring at them. My big, dark brown nipples get harder by the second.

He rubs his hands over my breasts, squeezing them hard. I gasp, moaning with a high pitch. He arches up and sucks my tits, getting my nipples in his mouth. The motion of his tongue swirling over my sensitive nipples sends tingles racing through me. I pant, throwing my head back and enjoying the moment, then I press his head into my soft tits, letting his face get lost amidst them.

Now that I'm so horny, I can't wait anymore. I push my son back onto the bed, unbutton my jeans, and slip them off along with my panties, throwing them onto the vinyl floor. He lets his fingers glaze across my stomach as I reach behind me and grab his throbbing cock, slowly backing down onto it until I guide it into my entrance.

I groan as the tip slips into my pussy, then I slowly ease onto it, relishing the feeling of my son's shaft being inside me. I move slow at first, shifting my hips back and forth, the wetness of my pussy drips down his cock, and I feel how moist it is between my thighs as our skin rubs together.

"Oh, mom," he groans, his face alight with pleasure. My son grips my hips, squeezing them tight as I shift back and forth on his dick. Then I pick up the pace, bouncing up and down with more vigour. My tits bounce with me, the bed creaks with the weight our bodies, and my son frequently squeezes them as his hands move across my chest.

It feels incredible, and it only makes me want to bounce faster. "Jack!" I yelp, throwing my head back as I run a hand through my hair. If I keep going like this, I'll have an orgasm soon. It all feels amazing, the length of his dick, the thrill of it, the fact that it's Jack.

His phone rings, the screen lighting up, and the vibrations creating a dull buzz on the bed. I see the name Sarah, and my heart drops into my stomach. Jack picks it up and he must feel the same, as his eyes widen with shock. I stop bouncing, but don't get off his dick. He answers the phone, putting it on speaker. "Hello?"

"Jack," Sarah says through the speaker. "I forgot my lip balm in the van, is it by the bedside table?"

We both look over to see a small stick of lip balm is indeed on the table, and my blood freezes. My heart drums in my chest.

He looks behind him. "Yeah, it is."

"Oh, okay," she says. "I'm coming to get it, will be two minutes."

Me and my son both look awkwardly at one another, sitting here as I'm naked on top of him with his cock still inside me. I have to think fast. "Sarah, sweetie," I shout so she can hear me.

"Oh, hi, Linda."

"I was just about to head out," I say, panting for breath. "I'll bring your lip balm out for you."

"Oh, there's really no need--"

"No, I insist." I put my mother voice on for that one, the one that carries a sense of authority in its commanding tone. "I'm coming now." I wink at my son when I say this, and he smirks.

"Okay," she says with a tone of defeat. "Thanks a bunch, Linda."

"No problem, sweetie." I heave a sigh of relief, and Jacks says his goodbyes to her and hangs up the phone.

"Now throw that thing away," I tell him, which he does, and get back to riding him. He's still hard.

Now I lean over, planting my hands beside his head, they sink into the mattress, my huge tits waving like wrecking balls over his face, and I fuck his goddamn brains out. My abdomen moves back and forth, slapping against his pelvis, my wet cunt massaging that hard cock with more intensity with each passing stroke. I'm riding him like a goddamn rodeo. He lifts his head up to try and catch my tits in his mouth as they wave over him, sucking the nipple when he manages to catch one.

"Mom, I'm gonna come." He smacks my ass, the dull throb on my glute only making me wetter, then clutches my hips with an iron grip.

I lean down, still riding him as hard as I can, but I work out for this. I'm not that tired, and only a bit of sweat beads on my back. "I'm coming too."

And we both pick it up, reaching our climax. He goes stiff first, letting out a loud, deep groan, and I feel the warm cum ooze inside me. His legs raised slightly off the bed, straight as metal poles with his toes curled. His fingers clutch me tighter as he comes, and he breathes heavily.

Just as he does this, I come too. The warm, ecstatic tingles racing through every inch of my body as my cunt tightens around his cock in short bursts. I scream with pleasure, almost sure it can be heard from outside the walls of our camper, but I don't care. I let it wash over me like a gorgeous burst of heat, letting out deep breaths as I relish in the feeling of an orgasmic high. I get off my son's cock. White gluey droplets leak from the tip, and it drips from my pussy too, running down my thighs.

"Go clean up," I tell him as I stand up. He grabs my ass as he playfully smiles, giving it a small smack. I giggle, hitting him on the shoulder. "Enough of that now."

I clean myself and quickly put my clothes on, wrapping a coat over myself. "Where are you going?" Jack says.

"To give your girlfriend her lip balm." And while I'm at it, I might just go and check on my husband, I'm in a much better mood now.