Mustang Sammie Pt. 04

As night fell, and it got chilly, he said he would call it a night and return tomorrow evening to see if he could get it finished. There was now one week to go.

That night, as I lay on my bed and just my lengthy nightie, I listened as he had a shower. Thankfully, I wasn't playing with myself whenever he opened the door to my bedroom, and I immediately thought -- maybe hoped -- he was coming in to help himself to me. This was not to be the case, he merely just leaned in the door and said, "Thank you, I really wouldn't be doing this without you."

"Don't mention it, I know it won't be as much fun on your own, but I think it will be worth it in the end. Your grandad would be very proud."

He maintained a lengthy eye contact with me and told me goodnight, as he

slowly backed out the door, closing it behind him. He was holding the handle down for about 20 seconds, as he stood outside in the landing. I was willing him to come back in, to come and join me in bed and love me all night long. As the handle resumed to its closed position, I sighed, knowing that it actually appeared to be over.

####

Waking the Dead

It was to be two nights later that my son came running in the house from the garage. " I've finished, it's good to go," he beamed. As I clasped my hands over my chest with pride, "I just need your help with one other thing," he said, go get changed into your TellyTubby outfit and join me in the garage.

Again, some may say, inappropriately, I stripped to my underwear and donned my coverall type jumpsuit. I left the top two buttons open, put the hood up and went downstairs and opened the garage door to see my son checking a few things underneath the bonnet, and I leaned in and asked, "What ya doin'?"

He glanced over at me and smiled, as I leaned on the front wing of the car, daring....no, begging him to look down to see my bra covered boobs.

He did, just a fleeting glance and then he stood, and I went over to hug him and told him how proud I was of what he had achieved. The car still had no bonnet/hood, but other than that it looked immaculate, with its sleek Fastback, in a midnight blue colour.

As we parted, I'm quite sure that I caught a slight glimpse of him looking down my open buttons again, and I smiled when he rejoined my eyes in a stare. Then, he surprised me by dangling a set of keys in front of me and saying, "I only think it's fair that you should be the one to start it for the first time," and dropped the keys into my waiting hands.

At this point I got strangely emotional, and tears started rolling down my face. He asked me if I was okay and I nodded, as I put the keys in the ignition for the first time. I had never driven this car before, and although I had had sex in it and, did other things in it, I had never ever started or driven it. I turned the ignition at his instruction, before he told me to hang on a minute.

"Try now," he said, and I turned the key as the starter motor began to turn the engine over.

Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy, of course it didn't start, and we tried again, but still the big V8 would not fire into life. He phoned Ben, still recuperating from his accident, but was always a good source of knowledge and Ben gave him some ideas on how to fix it, as I listened to the conversation through the speaker-phone.

Upon hanging up he tried again, and I got back into my position in the driver seat, and as my son made some adjustments under the bonnet, he told me again to turn the Key.

It turned, and again the slow churning of the starter motor tried to raise the big engine from the dead. It coughed, spluttered and Thomas told me to stop. The excitement was something I can't explain, as every part of my being was willing this machine to fire up.

"Try now," he said, and I turned the key once more. It churned, spluttered and turned and then, the thunderous rip of a big V8 flooded the garage with noise, as the fumes blew out the open doors.

I jumped out and ran to Thomas, engulfing him in my arms as he squeezed me tightly to his chest. I thought, 'This is it, he's going to kiss me,' as we gazed into each other's souls. He opened his mouth, I held my breath and he said, "Better switch it off, for now," and went to the drivers side and the noise ceased.

Later that night, he came to the my bedroom again and sat on the edge of the bed. "Everything alright?" I asked, as he went to say something, before he stopped. Naturally, all sorts of things crossed my mind, as I placed my book beside me and reached out my hand, and he reached to meet it with his. "What's up, you can tell your old Mum anything," I said, and he cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"I need a co-driver, it's in the rules......can you come?" he asked, looking up to my eyes from where he held my hand.

I beamed in happiness, having not even considered this as a possibility. I asked him, "Are you sure? Do you need me to come.....or want me to?

He lowered his eyes again, rubbing his thumb into my palm and breathed, "I really, really want you to."

I told him,"Come here," and pulled his hand to drag him closer. We tightly embraced and, soon, his arms were around my back, his hands rubbing up and down my back. "I'm so proud of you....it's not been an easy few months," I said into his ear, and he broke away.

"I wouldn't have finished it without you, my favourite little TellyTubby."

"Hey!" I laughed as I slapped his shoulder, and he separated us, gazing longingly into my eyes.

"You know I love you more than anyone else in the world, Mum," he breathed, as my heart swelled.

"I love you, I'll be so proud to be with you on this journey....in that car too!"

"You really love that car, don't you?" He asked and I nodded and told him, "I might tell him about it sometime."

####

Rally Of The Lochs

The big day arrived, the car had been detailed and fine tuned, and we had packed our small bags to clothe us for the two nights it would take to drive from loch Lomond, heading east around the Cairngorms, stopping at Various checkpoints at all of the lochs dotted along the way, then back across to Loch Ness. Each section would be timed, but not necessarily in terms of speed, as all cars had to adhere to the speed limit of the roads with each driver being penalised, should they be deemed to have completed a section too quickly.

I knew I had a problem the moment we pulled out onto the main road from our road, as with Thomas putting his foot down, a long lost fluttering,

that was generated by the burble of that engine going through the exhaust, made my lonely vagina tingle. He noticed, asking me was the seat unconformable, before I assured him that I was fine.

As the miles passed, I gripped the door handle with my right hand, pushing myself up on the central divide with my left, as he went up through the gears and, each time the revs got to that certain sweet spot, I got closer and closer to having an incident. And by incident, I meant orgasm.

As for the way the seat belt rested between my 36DDs breasts, with my nipples poking through my white top, just Google, "Chubby Milf Porn," as the obscenity even made me stare.

Thankfully, the roads straightened out and the twisting roads changing to motorway, the car rumbled along at an acceptable tone for my now slightly moist pussy and soon, Glasgow passed, and we arrived on time at Loch Lomond. Thomas looked right at me, unaware of my plight by his focus on driving for the first time, as we stood beside the car and his eyes immediately went to my nipples that were refusing to be restrained by my bra or top.

I turned away, raised the front seat and leaned into the back to get my fleecy coat, not to shield myself from the cold, it was a lovely, sunny day, and as I turned and swung my coat around me, he homed his gaze in on the reasons for the coat, looking straight at my round, bulging boobs, and those troublesome, stiff and tingling nipples.

My mind screamed, 'Take me, put me over the bonnet and fuck me,' but I settled, feebly, on, "Chilly enough," knowing fully that it was far from cold.

We got our time cards from the desk, and as we signed in and introduced ourselves, we were unaware of the crowd that had gathered round the Mustang, with at least 15 people swarming over it when we walked back out. One man gave Thomas his phone number, telling him to call him if he ever decided to sell it.

####

A Gear Change

As the miles passed by, my little problem had reared its ugly head/erect clit, again. Worse still, I was now quite certain that Thomas was aware of it, as after our third time trial of the day's eight, he started holding the car at my, "Sweet Spot," between third and fourth gear. I writhed, braced myself again and tried to raise my pussy off the seat, but I couldn't hold myself up for long.

Between time checkpoints 6-7, a particularly long stint, I finally succumbed to what was inevitable. I put the seat back as far as it would go so Thomas could not so easily see me. I put the back of the seat upright, telling him that my back was getting sore, and ground my vagina into the seat.

It started again, fourth gear this time, on a straight stretch of road where he was doing about 80 miles per hour - too fast, but perfect for my stimulation. The speed, the noise, and my son in control, I already was wet, then I started to pulse as the vibrations resonated through my core.

I saw a bend coming up and, 'Thank God,' I thought, as he changed the manual shift into third, but to my pleasure, and horror, he held it mostly at 'That' spot, as he negotiated the tightly sweeping bends.

I looked at his hands on the wooden steering wheel, as he feathered the powerful V8 with his foot. Being left hand drive, he rested his right hand over the gear shift, just inches from my knee and I willed him to just reach over, and run his hand up my thigh.

My body shuddered as he changed into fourth, and the throaty burble from low in the rev-band, brought new waves resonating through my pussy until, again, he changed back to third, holding it, torturing me, feathering the car up and down through that spot.

"Hmmmm," slipped out of my closed mouth, as the next wave rattled through me.

Bracing myself again, but not lifting up to stop the sensations, I was slightly annoyed when he braked, and pulled in at our penultimate stop for the day.

Thomas went and deposited our time card, collecting the one for stage 7-8, and off we went. This time, all sense of it being a coincidental freak that he held it at those pulsing, burbling revs, was thrown out the window. On straight stretches, fourth gear and 80mph made me feel that familiar twitch and tingle, before the bends slowed him to third gear, sometimes second, which seemed too slow, made him feather the throttle up through, and hold it at my euphoric crest.

With my arms, I wedged myself between the central consol and the door, as my insides started to pulse. I was sweating, biting my lips to keep them closed with my teeth, as my eyes closed and my body surrendered to my now imminent, inevitable orgasm.

I tried to keep quiet, embarrassed that it was happening, and I opened my eyes to see if he was focused on the road, when I saw that he had moved the rear view mirror just enough that his eyes were locked onto mine. I gripped his arm, he didn't speak but looked between me and the road, as I rode out spasm after pulse, before a crashing wave made me cry out, "Uuuhhhhh!"

I fell back against the seat, riding out the dying embers of orgasm as Thomas changed gear, driving normally. The atmosphere in the car was thick with tension, and the faint smell of female arousal. Thomas didn't look at me again, just focused on the road ahead as my breathing returned to something near normal.

I pushed myself forward again, moving the seat on its rails made me feel the wetness in my crotch against the leather seat. The remaining 10 minute journey in the dusk light seemed like a million miles, as we drove along in silence.

####

Fawlty Towers

We've all seen the sitcom featuring John Cleese, as the hapless hotelier who's customer service is akin to me entering Mother of the Year. We had email confirmation of the booking - a twin room, booked through the organisers of the car rally - and rather awkwardly in silence, we walked up to the reception.

The dark haired, young female receptionist looked at our booking confirmation and said, "Sorry, that's not valid and we're full," and went back to the typing that we had interrupted.

We asked to speak with the manager, who was somehow even more rude, offering the advice that we could sleep in his car park, just like the other 4 drivers he had already turned away. We were not alone.

Thomas wasn't having it, telling him that he had 80,000 followers on YouTube, blogging his restoration of the car and showing him the channel on his phone and pointed out the bad publicity he might get. Glaring at us both, he swished and slapped the mouse of his computer around, before he miraculously found a vacant room on his system.

Looking at us with disdain, he then added to his already high standards of rudeness when he sarcastically smiled, "Same surname I see. What is it then.....mother and son? Or is he your toy-boy, reaching very highly?"

Thomas spoke for us, lifting the key cards from the desk and said, "She's my Mother. I'd put in a good word for you but......you know."

"Enjoy your sleep in on the sofa then, my friend," he smirked,"You're in the honeymoon suite. Call it a complimentary upgrade for any inconvenience caused.....sleep well."

For any normal mother and son, sharing a honeymoon suite is uncomfortable. For us.....it certainly raised many different levels of issues and, as we went up to the top floor of the not too swanky hotel, the silence spoke loudly of all kinds of awkwardness.

Thomas opened the door and looked inside. The audible smirk told me that it wasn't going to be the Ritz, but when we stepped inside, I too was slightly tickled, as the room looked like something from the set of Barbie and Ken. Pail-pink painted walls framed a hot-pink bedspread, with light-pink hearts on a heart shaped bed and matching curtains met us.....even the carpet was (slightly faded) pink.

The toilet and bath were in a room directly behind the bed, with the sink x 2 down an alcove in the main room, down the left hand side of the bed. Thomas' proposed bed for the night, which was love-seat and the same shade of pink as the walls, was at the side of the bed, beside the door.

I immediately told him he wasn't sleeping in that, and he cast me a questioning look, before I told him I was going to shower before bed as the both of us were completely shattered.

I didn't play with myself in the shower, just a wash, taking particular care of my intimate areas. I hadn't gone as far as shaving my vagina, I only did that when regularly being serviced by the young man in the room just a thin wall away. It's not like I had been in demand since everything had blown up at Christmas.

I came out again, not dressed in a hotel robe, as our surprise usage of the room at the last minute had meant that it had not the usual "Luxuries" one would expect. Also, as I stepped out of the steamy bathroom, the fact that they had literally just put the heating on, before we took residence, was made clear by the chill in the air, and the feeling of my nipples getting tight, against the material of that old Family Guy T-shirt. I quickly dove under the bedsheets, pulling them up against my chin and, in case you're wondering, I wasn't wearing underwear.

I could tell that Thomas was nervous about us sharing a bed for the night. He had literally shown no interest in me since he had almost forced himself on me, but I was expecting him to at least check me out as I dashed to the bed with my arms up against myself, stopping my tits from wobbling. Instead, he fumbled to get his pyjama bottoms, only turning as he walked to the shower and saying, "I'll only be a minute."

While he was in, I put out all the lights, bar the one above the bed that was, of course, reddish pink. He laughed when he came back out, "Barbie with a hint of a hooker's boudoir," he said.

"And how would my baby boy know what one of those looks like?" I teased, with an easy, relaxing smile.

"I watch a lot of TV," he said, looking at me and raising his eyebrows while setting his clothes on the sofa.

As he climbed into bed in his pyjama bottoms and bare chest, his mention of TV had reminded me of what he had said to the hotel manager. "I didn't know you were a big famous YouTube star," I beamed with pride.

He laughed, picked up his phone and opening the channel said, "I could never be bothered with all that crap. But this dude has did a lovely job with his Mustang!"

I had been leaning in to see his screen when he had made the revelation that the channel he practically blackmailed the manager with, wasn't his. As he finished talking, I had started laughing and rolled away, then rolled back and slapped him on his naked chest, as his arm went around my back, cupping my left shoulder.

He gripped my hand, restraining it between his modest pecs as I realised that, in rolling around laughing, my t-shirt had ridden up to my waist, my naked, hairy pussy was now against his pyjama clad hip, and my covered left breast was over his torso. As semi-erotic as it was, the fact that my right tit was being squashed between us was both uncomfortable, and sore. I had to either make it obvious and heft it up, setting it between us properly, or as it turned out I did, I broke away with a lengthy gaze and said, "We should probably turn out the light."

As I reached up to turn the light out, I pondered two things.

The significance of being in the dark with him

He was looking at my breasts.

We lay in the dark in silence, just his breathing could be heard over the sounds of cars on the road. Being in the very top, attic room in the building, we had no other rooms on either side, so it was pretty quiet. "Glad it's warmed up a bit," I said, wanting to break the silence.

"Yeah, still not exactly sub-tropical though. I think they've switched the heat off again."

"Probably do at night," I replied, now a apparently an expert on hotels.

There was silence again, I think we both had run out if small talk, then I felt him turning and he breathed, "Are we alright, Mum?"

"What do you mean?" I almost moaned, not wanting to go to the subject I fully knew he meant.

"You know when I.....did what I did."

I thought for what seemed like ages, probably only seconds however and I breathed, "You weren't you, it was an emotionally tough night and.....it's ok."

He exhaled, suggesting he had been holding his breath. I needed to say more but, not knowing how far to go with airing my thoughts, I hesitated a few times and he sensed it. "What's on your mind?" He enquired.

"I was a bit nervous when the light went out. You.....you can't keep just doing it to me, Thomas. Tom can't be in my bed anymore."

"Ok," I heard, and he sounded ashamed.

"Thomas," I said, reaching for his hand.

"Yes, Mum?"

"Will you hold me?"

He moved with hesitance as I turned my back to him, and he spooned up behind me while I still held his hand, and brought it round to the, (I'll call my stomach relaxed,) curve of my tummy. Then, he nuzzled his face in behind my head, and I'm sure he took a long inhalation and sniffed my hair, as he relaxed behind me with his body up behind mine.

I could feel his penis, whilst covered and flaccid, was clearly pressed against my shamelessly bare butt, and I make no apologies for grinding against him. I knew what I wanted.

"I really enjoyed our drive today," I said in a low tone.

"Me too, I love driving that car," he replied.

"That's good, I have a lot of memories in it you know......today will be another that I keep.......No one has ever made that happen to me before."