For twenty minutes my V@?i?@ rested on his erection, which never shrank, while chatting with my husband as much as possible to distract myself from the awkward situation I was in.
Finally I saw an upcoming rest stop and suggested we stop.
Just as Alex was slowing down, I felt the insistent flinching of Cory’s penis. It flinched three times, each time pressing itself up ever so slightly but still noticeably against my labia.
I Mõ@ned, unintentionally.
Alex asked, “You okay, Sarah?”
“I just need to stretch for a bit,” I answered, my face burning red at getting aroused from sitting on my son.
“I could grab a drink,” my husband nodded, as he pulled into the stop.
“Me too,” I agreed, feeling a bit dehydrated.
Once we rolled to a stop I joked to Cory, “I imagine you’re dying for a break, too.”
“No, I’ve been enjoying the ride,” my son answered without implying any sort of sëxual innuendo. Truth be told, except for my frustration and guilt, part of me had been enjoying the ride too, but if I dared to mention it, there would be a definite sëxual charge to my words, so I remained silent.
My face, which was already quite flushed, went a shade darker as I opened the door and climbed out. I’m not sure if my face could get any redder than it already was, but as my son climbed out and stood up, two things were apparent:
1. His erection was poking out against his Adidas shorts.
2. The shorts had a prominent wet spot that undoubtedly had come from me.
I turned away and headed for the washroom, mortified that my fluids had soaked into my son’s shorts. Once inside, I pulled my P@ntiës down and couldn’t believe how wet they were.
Now I should note I’ve always gotten wet easily, and I was quite a flooder when I got off. I also had a ferocious sëxual appetite that my husband could seldom satisfy… thus I had a variety of sëx toys on hand to finish the job he usually couldn’t complete. I had a we-vibe, a couple of vibrators, anal beads, a butterfly toy I could wear while I was away from the bedroom, which was currently in my purse, and my newest acquisition, a massage vibe… which was literally 0rg@zmic.
Deciding I needed to quell my burning Çüñt (Fuçk the niceties, I was so horny I could hardly stand), I leaned against the wall in a stall and began pleasuring myself. Not surprisingly, the half-hour-plus of Cory’s unintentional teasing (I hoped it was unintentional, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask) had me already revved up, and I came in no time at all. My pu$$¥ juice had spilled down my leg when I came, so I awkwardly cleaned myself up with toilet paper.
Once I was recovered more or less, I also wrung out my P@ntiës while they were wrapped in toilet paper to try and make them less damp, but after putting them on, I could still feel their humiliating wetness. Usually I loved sëx. I loved coming; but the constant reminder by these wet P@ntiës that my son’s ÇOçk had gotten me horny was too much to bear, so I took them back off.
Instead, I hid the sëxy wet thong in my purse and went to the sink to wash my hands and legs. Unfortunately, a mother with her child came in, so all I could do was wash my hands thoroughly, hoping that would be enough to hide the scent of my own cvm.
Leaving the washroom, I decided there was no way I would sit back on my son’s lap. I figured that instead, we would have to persevere squished side by side. I purchased a coke and a bag of chips from a vending machine and headed back to the car.
Fuçk, I thought as I left the shaded area of the rest stop and the summer sun pounded into me. It was a Fuçking sauna out here. I wanted to get a change of P@ntiës from my suitcase, but decided not to: how would I be able to explain that? ‘Oh, I just feel like a change’ would sound really stupid and inevitably lead to further questions. No thanks.
My husband and son were leaning against the car chatting when I walked up to them.
“So, less than fourteen hours left,” Alex quipped, with a playful smile. “Piece of cake.”
Cory replied, “I don’t know about the cake, I think it’s going to be a tight ride.”
I couldn’t tell for sure, maybe it was just the self-conscious part of me, but he seemed to stress the word ‘tight’.
I joked, realizing only after the words had left my mouth that they only added to the innuendo if he was implying one, “Yes, it will likely result in some unavoidable mom and son bonding.”
“Well, it’s you two back there for the whole drive,” my husband added. “No way can I fit back there with anybody.”
That was true. My husband was a big man, and there was no way my son or I would be able to fit either side by side with him or on his lap.
Nope, I still had just under fourteen hours to spend with my son in the backseat. The next stretch without any underwear.
Fuçk.
My son climbed back into the car first and patted his lap.
I’d intended to get in first and suggested, “Shouldn’t we try side by side again?”
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, patting his lap once again.
“You sure?” I asked, knowing it could get awkward without my wearing any P@ntiës and my pu$$¥ still damp… the aftermath dribble of a strong 0rg@zm.
“Side by side will be too tight,” he replied. “We already learned that the hard way.”
There’s that word ‘tight’ again, I thought. Is he saying that on purpose?
“But I’ll crush your legs,” I pointed out, desperate to avoid sitting on his ÇOçk again… having enjoyed it too much the first time.
He shrugged dismissively, “Oh Mom, you’re not heavy at all.”
“You sure?” I asked again, still tentative, as I looked down and could still see the shading of a pu$$¥ juice stain on his shorts, as well as the clear outline of his ÇOçk… which at least no longer looked to be completely erect.
“Mom, it’s not hard at all,” he answered, now repeating the word ‘hard’ .
The naughty side of me wanted to respond, ‘but it likely will be hard quite soon’, but the good mom in me responded, “If you’re sure I won’t smother you?”
He shrugged, “I can handle wh@tëver you give me.”
So I sat back down on his lap, his words again possibly dripping with innuendo, this time adjusting myself sideways to sit more onto his leg to avoid his crotch.
For half an hour I sat precariously but reasonably virtuously in that spot as we continued driving. Then I felt his hands on my hips as he informed me, not asking for my opinion, while he lifted me up slightly, “Mom, we need to change positions.”
When he lowered me back down, my pu$$¥ was again directly seated on his ÇOçk, which was again stiff and prominent. I couldn’t help but let out a slight Mõ@n as my naked pu$$¥ once again responded to its pressure. (I realize that the last time I was sitting in this position I was calling it a penis, but anything that could get me this horny was no clinical penis, it was a d@mn ÇOçk.)
