Slippery Slope

"That's—I'm good now, Mom. Thanks."

She said, "I should try to dry out these wet clothes."

I made to sit up and help.

"No, you rest. I've got this," she insisted.

I laid on my back under the blanket as she slid out. Her body—in panties and a sports bra, only—was fully displayed. On all fours, she spun around toward the pile of wet clothes, presenting her ass to me.

Instantly I covered my face, silently mouthing, "Oh, fuck," at what I'd seen. She had an incredible body.

I rolled away from her, knowing I would miss out on more astounding views of her, particularly when she crawled over into the front seat.

Fuck it. I didn't want to see.

"Ah, shoot," Mom spat.

My mind replayed the image of her ass, over and again. I fought against it, responding, "What's wrong, Mom?"

"In my haste to rewarm you, I left my pants in the pile of snowy clothes, and now they're wet."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Never mind, honey."

When I felt her climb into the front, I turned over. She sat in the driver's seat, arranging clothes along the dashboard over the defroster.

"How's gas?" I asked.

She stopped, looking. "Right above one-quarter."

"Okay."

"Did the water bottle thaw?"

She picked it up and shook it. "Yes. Do you care if I drink it? I'm absolutely..." She didn't finish. She was going to say how starving she was, I knew it.

"Go ahead, Mom. I'll scoop some more snow when you're done."

She drained it in one pull. When her lips smacked off the nipple, she gasped and said, "Oh, my gosh, that was good. Oh!"

My erection having subsided, I climbed up beside her, took the bottle, and did another rapid snow scoop. When I handed it back to her, I glanced and saw her nipples bulging against the fabric of her sports bra. I turned away.

"Okay, now I'm freezing again. Come in back with me?" she asked.

"Sure."

She set the bottle on the dashboard, and then went first into the back. I stared straight ahead at the windshield, but in my peripheral vision, the smooth, tanned skin of her leg and hip passed inches from my face.

For a fleeting instant, I imagined what I would have seen had I just turned and watched—her beautiful ass, bent over and aimed at me, her sleek legs spreading wide as she threw one at a time over into the back.

Stop, dammit! Enough, I commanded myself.

"Come on, honey!"

I climbed back with her, and she let me under the blanket. Instantly she clung to me, her head just underneath mine, each of us with an arm around the other.

"Need me to do anything to warm you up, Mom?"

"Just be close." She pulled her body close to mine, nudging her leg against mine until I spread them apart so she could rest her thigh between mine. I gently rubbed her back. She fell asleep.

Flash images of me touching Mom while she slept—softly rolling my palm over her breasts, slipping my fingers under the elastic of her panties—zipped through my mind.

No.

The fuck was wrong with me?

What had changed?

Never in my life had visions like these entered my mind. Never. Sure, my friends kidded me about having a hot Mom or whatever. Sure, I had noticed that she was, in fact, lovely and fit—well proportioned.

So when did lovely become hot? How did fit become sexy?

Fuck that, I decided. I needed to treat her with respect and honor, and that included how I thought about her.

I looked at her face, focusing on repeating the words to myself: this is my Mom, this is my Mom...

She made a sound, a tiny moaning hum. Her body twitched.

Dreaming, I thought, as her breathing resumed a regular rhythm. Moments later, her body jerked, and she muttered, "Please." Her voice broke, and the words were filled with sadness. It wasn't but a few seconds after this utterance that Mom made a new sound.

At first, I thought it was the beginning of laughter. It was a series of low, almost coughing sounds—but softer, not with the hard edge of a cough. Then her face pinched together and she sobbed. She groaned something, and the only word that came across clearly was "food." Next thing, she drew her hand from my side, and shortly after, she resumed a peaceful sleep.

Very carefully, I crawled to the front. None of the clothes were dry, yet. The fuel needle was resting along the bottom of the one-quarter line. The water in Mom's bottle was half ice. I drank it down, munching on the snow, thinking.

***

She woke after 6:30pm. I warned her about the cold, opened the door, and scooped more snow for drinking water.

I had put my clothes back on; hers were now dry, too. I handed them back to her.

She climbed up to the driver's seat, the wad of clothes still in her fist. "Nothing happen?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No."

She stared at the dashboard.

"What is it, Mom?"

"I need to relieve myself."

"Oh."

"Have you gone, yet? When you were out there?"

"No."

"I don't want to put these on just to take them off again," she said, touching her pile of clothes.

"You should put something on, Mom. It's freezing."

"Why, though? They'll just get snowy and wet, and I'll have to take them off."

She had a point. "Shoes, though. You've got to."

"I'll put on shoes," she said. "Do you need to go?"

"Not really. I could, I suppose."

"Then you should. The fewer times we open the door, the better."

I said, "You're right. We should plan this, as much as we can."

She nodded.

I went on. "When you go, I could go, too, and then check on our triangles up there, make sure they're still visible."

"When do we shut off the car?" she asked.

"When we go to sleep for the night, I think."

Mom nodded and then suddenly turned away from me, sniffing. Her hand went up to her mouth.

"Mom?"

She shook her head.

She was hungry. Really hungry.

I knew enough about hunger to understand that it's relative. People who snack every couple of hours, if put in a position where they miss an eating period, get hungry. If they miss a couple of eating periods, they get pissy and hungry. Miss more, and they're starving.

Mom hadn't eaten since last night, but she was used to it. She did it every Friday. The problem was she had crossed over the time when she would usually have her crazy-huge Friday dinner. So, not only had she missed her regular mealtime, but she also hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours.

It surprised me to think how long she kept herself together. Hell, I was hungry and pissy, and I ate breakfast.

Mom grabbed her water bottle, unscrewed the lid, and tilted it up to her face. If there was water in there, it was only a few drops. She was going for the snow.

"Mom, that'll only make you colder, eating snow."

She turned the bottle up again, going for more. When she finished, she set the bottle down. She said, "I don't care, honey, if it makes me cold." Her eyes were flat and sullen. "Tell me when you're ready to go." She grabbed her shoes and slid them on.

I bundled up.

Ready, I turned to her. I was covered, head to toe, she was in panties, a bra, and shoes. She grabbed the handle.

"Wait," I said. "The door won't lock, will it?"

She shook her head.

"Go," I said.

Peripherally, I saw Mom take three big steps, yank her panties to her knees, and squat. Turning away, I dropped my sweatpants and peed. Wind blew the stream sideways. I shook it and drew up my pants. Turning, I saw Mom, still bent low, her butt grazed the top of the drift.

I looked up the slope and started moving.

The world had gotten colder and windier. Snow wasn't falling as intensely, but powerful gusts swept up the powder, spun it into a vortex, and hurled streams of icy flakes into my face.

I swore.

At the top, I swore again. The triangles were scattered about, and I only saw three of them.

I walked to pick one of them up, and I stopped.

Tracks.

Fresh tracks. Someone had driven by here, and it couldn't have been long ago. It was hard to tell what direction the car had been going; the tracks were in the middle of the road. I hustled to pick up the three markers and find the fourth.

It had blown several yards down the hill, so I went after it.

Each triangle had a spike that could be used to sink it into the ground, but the earth was too rocky, and I knew the plastic spike would just break off.

Snow hadn't yet completely obscured the area I had established the first time, but there was work to be done to clear it again. Plus, I needed to find some rocks big enough to weigh down the triangles.

It was not, however, the kind of weather a person wanted to spend any amount of time searching for something.

And that deep, icy chill had already set in all over my body. My muscles didn't react quickly to the things I was asking them to do. Everywhere I shivered. I needed to quit.

But, fuck it; this was too important. A car had come by. If it had gone out, it may be coming back. If it had gone in, it may have been a cop or something checking out our road before heading back to town.

I had been out for near five minutes, but it felt like longer. I would remain out there for another five. I found three decent rocks that would hold the markers up. For the last one, I had four small stones; they would have to do.

"Fuck this," I muttered, and I trudged down the slope.

Climbing into the front seat, I sat, unmoving. I didn't look or listen for Mom; I was an ice statue. After ten minutes, I felt thawed enough to move again. Very slowly, I began stripping everything off down to my underwear.

After setting my clothes on the dashboard, I looked in the back. Mom laid under the blanket.

"Mom, can I...?"

"Please, yes."

Once under the blanket, she climbed on top of me, hugging with her arms and legs.

"I saw tracks. A car had come by," I said.

She didn't speak or move.

"But, the markers had blown over. I had to reset them, weigh them down."

Still, she didn't respond.

"There's a chance, maybe," I offered.

A few seconds after I had finished, Mom said, "When you're warmed up, will you help me look for something to eat in here? I don't care what it is."

"Sure, Mom."

"We'll have to raise the seats in the back."

"Okay."

"Under seats, in pockets, everywhere. I don't care what it is. I need to eat."

I nodded from under her.

"And you're right about eating snow. We need to let it melt first."

"Yeah."

"Let's get you warm again," she said. She began sliding her smooth body up and down mine.

Fuck, it felt good. I never wanted it to stop. She was warm, and her body had a perfect balance between downy softness and healthy firmness.

I stopped her before my body started to respond. "I'm good. Let's look."

"Okay."

She took the front seat. I lifted the back seats up and searched. Under the passenger side front seat, I found an empty styrofoam drink cup. I kept it so that we could have two cups of snow melting. There was an unopened 12-ounce bottle of water in the seat pocket behind the driver's side. I handed it to her.

"Do you care?" she asked.

I shook my head. She downed it in two pulls, gasping with relish when she finished.

Under her console, I found the biggest treasure: a little box of orange Tic Tacs. When I showed it to her, she seized it. Her eyes were like saucers of dark fire. She opened the lid and upturned the container into her gaping mouth, shaking the contents free.

Half of them fell out, and she uprighted the little box and began munching. When she swallowed, she moaned, "Oh, that's good."

She pushed the container to me.

I shook my head. "All yours."

She finished the rest, devouring them and vocalizing her satisfaction lustily before tossing the container to the floor. She reclined the driver's seat and rested, her hands on her tummy.

Ten minutes later, she began weeping quietly.

I touched her shoulder gently from the back seats.

Her voice broke when she said, "I'm just so hungry it hurts."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry."

I rubbed her shoulders and arms.

"I feel like I'm losing control," she cried, sniffing and wiping her nose. "I can't stop having these—these crazy notions."

"How can I help, Mom? I'll do anything."

I felt her kiss my hand. Afterward, she moaned sadly.

I said, "I'll run for it, Mom. I'll run for home. I can make it, and I'll come back with my car."

She wiped her eyes, saying, "Honey, no. It's—it's gentlemanly of you to offer, but you mustn't. I couldn't bear the thought of you getting frostbite or—or worse."

I continued massaging her shoulders.

She checked her water bottle and drank the water that had melted.

I said, "When that's empty, I'll fill this one, too." I pointed at the cup I'd found.

Mom nodded. "Will you lower the second-row seats again? I need to lay down."

She climbed in back and slid under the blanket when I finished.

"Hold me," she said.

On our sides, she backed into me, and I draped my arm over her stomach.

Outside the windows, the darkness of night fell around the car.

We talked. I held her, and she starting asking me questions. We talked about my classes. We talked about Dee. We talked about past Christmases and old vacations.

I asked her about Pete, about Grandma and Grandpa, about what she was like when she was a kid. She told me stories from school.

It was, maybe, the first time I had ever gotten her telling stories about her much younger self. She had been a rowdy one. She told me about skipping classes, smoking, and partying. She told me about her friends all sneaking out together one snowy winter night—a school night.

It was going to be a light dusting of snow, maybe 2-3 inches. Mom and her friends summoned all the boys they knew who drove trucks. Together, they filled them with snow and then dumped it all on the school superintendent's front porch and driveway. School got canceled the next morning.

At one point, when we were both laughing, she turned and kissed me on the cheek. I took the moment to reflect on the idea that, despite us being sandwiched together, I had not thought about sex or even gotten the whisper of an erection.

That's fucking more like it.

I checked the clock. It was almost 9:00pm.

"I should shut off the car," I said.

"We ought to relieve ourselves before you do—and fill the snow cups."

"Yeah," I said. "Ready?"

She nodded.

We climbed into the front. She finished the water bottle. We both put on our shoes. I grabbed the styrofoam cup.

"One. Two. Three!"

We were out. I didn't really have to go, not having drunk very much water since our ordeal began. I pissed anyways, not wanting to have to leave the car in the middle of the night.

Just putting myself away, I heard a scream.

Turning, I ran over to the driver's side. Mom had fallen backward. Her knees were in the air, panties stretched between them. The snow was so deep that the rest of her body was buried.

I dug her free. Her hand grasped mine, and I pulled. Halfway up, her feet slipped. We both plummeted into the frigid powder.

I pushed to my knees, feeling snow inside my underwear. "Shit!" I yelled. I pulled Mom to her bottom, and then we both stood.

She was gasping when she emerged.

There was no hair on her pussy. I couldn't stop myself from looking.

"Hold—Hold me while I finish, honey!"

She gasped and shivered, but I held her. Finished, I picked her up and carried her back to the car.

Opening the door with one hand was a bitch, but I did it. I set her in the seat and closed the door.

Racing to the other side, I climbed in, myself.

"Fuck!" I yelled.

Mom turned to me. Her face was pale.

"The cups," I explained. So, I went back out, picked them up, filled them, and leaped in the car.

Without a second thought, I yanked off my snow-packed underwear.

Turning to Mom, I watched her eyes dart from my groin to my face. She was shaking uncontrollably. "Help m-me t-t-take off these things!"

On my knees and leaning over her, I pulled her bra up and over her head.

Her nipples are perfect, I thought.

Shaking off the vision, I tugged her panties from either side of her knees and pulled them over her feet.

"In back, " I ordered.

"Don't—don't make me move."

"No! Under the blanket. Come on."

"H-help me, honey."

As best I could, I helped her up and into the back. I climbed in beside her and lifted the blanket over us both.

"No. Please. Please, just—just lay on top of me."

I did. Her breasts pushed against my chest, and I could feel the gentle nudge of her nipples. My package rested in the gap where her thighs were pinched tightly together, just beneath her vagina.

"Move," she urged.

With my hands and knees on the floor, I rocked my body against hers. Despite my own cold, my cock reacted almost instantly. As it expanded, I raised my hips to lift it off her.

"Honey," she said.

I kept rocking.

"Honey."

I stopped.

"It's okay."

I stared at her.

"Don't be embarrassed."

I opened my mouth to talk, but nothing came out.

"Relax yourself. Just please make me warm."

I nodded, and I lowered my erection onto her. Then I began to slide over her, back and forth. The heat and friction sent waves of warmth through me. There were times when the entire length slid right over her small mound. Once, the rigid tip butted against her., between her legs

She gasped.

I adjusted myself and continued.

It was feeling too good.

The fuck was I doing? I stopped and lifted my body up, drawing deep draughts of air. I needed to stop this.

But, underneath me, Mom took this as a signal to roll to her stomach. She said, "Do my back now."

I hesitated.

"Please, honey."

I lowered myself, feeling the shaft of my cock nestle along the crease between the fleshy pillows of her ass. Then, I slid, slowly, back and forth.

Mom hummed underneath me. She told me how good it felt.

Not long after, I stopped. I had to.

"Keep going, honey."

I didn't speak.

She rolled over to face me. "Honey?"

"I can't Mom, I'll..." Too ashamed, I couldn't finish.

She nodded. "I understand." She cupped my face in her hands, and I thought she was about to speak.

But, her expression grew distant, like she was looking through me, not at me.

"What?" I asked.

She didn't reply.

"Mom, what?"

Then, her eyes came back to mine. "It's—it's nothing."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"Don't be."

I looked at the dashboard. "I'll shut off the car. We should try to sleep." I sat up and leaned to the front. "Ready," I asked, glancing back.

Oh, shit. Mom was on her back, looking up.

She was looking up at my cock, hard and hovering inches over her face. Her voice was airy when she said, "Ready." Her breasts rose and fell.

I shifted my lower body over and away from her.

She turned her face toward mine, and we stared at each other for a moment.

I broke away and shut down the engine.

When I slid back under the blanket, I turned away from her.

She inched closer. Touching my back, she said, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm not myself right now."

"No, I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered. "I lost control. Forgot where I was."

Mom began weeping again. "I'm just so...so fucking hungry!"

I rolled to her and held her, not even thinking about her swear. My boner began to relax and fall away. She sobbed. Eventually, she whispered, "I love you, honey."

"I love you, too, Mom."

She sniffed again, and with a clearer voice, she whispered, "It just hurts."

I hugged her, and she cried herself to sleep.

***

I woke several times during the night as the inside first grew chilly and then downright cold. On one of my awakening, Mom and I had squashed ourselves together, her back to my front.

On the next, I woke with a start from a dream I couldn't remember. I was certain that my sudden, jerky movement had wakened her, but she didn't stir.

I laid back down, trying to remember the dream, but I was drifting away.