Chapter 3: I Find Sandra

An hour later, Mom knocked on my door.

“Hey, what are you up to?” she asked.

“Not much,” I said, not turning away from the computer. “Just playing a game.”

“You must have something better to do than that on such a beautiful Sunday afternoon.”

I shrugged. “Nope.”

“I thought you were going out for drive?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll go with you if that girl isn’t going,” Mom offered. “That is, if you don’t mind riding around with your old Mom.”

I turned to look at Mom. Had she forgotten it was her who suggested I was going for a drive with ‘Sandy’? That thought left my mind when I saw Mom. She was leaning halfway in my room, hanging onto the doorjamb, wearing a fashionable summery print dress that with a loose skirt that fell from her hips in a way that hinted strongly at the fine shape of her legs. An open bodice showcased the tops of her heat swollen breasts and a zipper down the front kept the dress legal. Mom’s eyes twinkled with secret mirth.

“I made us a picnic,” Mom sweetened the pot.

“That’s the ticket,” I cried, rolling my chair back and leaping to my feet.

“Always the stomach,” Mom laughed. “Men,” she said with disgust.

I followed Mom downstairs. There was a large picnic basket waiting in the hallway by the front door.

Mom opened the door. “Bring the basket,” she said.

Mom drove. She headed straight toward Dad’s work and parked at the same vantage point we had used before. Sure enough, the same two cars were there. Mom waited for several minutes, her face growing grimmer and grimmer, before she finally threw the car into drive and peeled out.

I was disappointed when Mom steered the car past Connaught Hill. I turned and looked back with a forlorn glance as it fell behind us.

“Where are we going Mom?”

“You’ll see”.

As we drove, I glanced more often at Mom. Eventually, I ignored the passing countryside in favor of Mom’s figure, the slender thighs under the summer skirt and sculptured calves operating the pedals. I even loved the sexiness of her bare arms with the ultra-fine tiny blond hairs waving in the breeze blowing over her forearms through the open window.

“Is it far?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it, trust me. It’s a beautiful spot.”

“A secret place?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go there with Duke?”

“That’s a probing question to ask your mother.”

“I was asking Sandy.”

There was a subtle change in Mom’s demeanor, something about her posture indicated that a transformation had been initiated. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was different but there was a palpable change in the air.

I slipped my sandals off and unhooked my seatbelt. That alone would have brought a sharp rebuke from Mom but none came. I twisted my back to the door and swung my feet onto the seat, bringing them to rest against Mom’s hip and thigh. I watched Mom intently as she drove, trying to figure out what is was about her that made me so certain a metamorphosis was underway. I saw nothing.

Mom was aware of my scrutiny but said nothing to dissuade it. I shifted my right foot along Mom’s right thigh and pressed against it.

“So answer the question.”

“What question?”

“Did you go there with your Duke?”

I slid my foot back toward Mom’s hip, dragging her skirt with it.

“Yes,” Mom replied.

“Dad too?”

I winced as I said that, thinking it was a mistake to mention my father.

“Just once, when you were born.”

When I was born? She was taking me to the place I was conceived?

I quickly changed the subject back to Duke.

“What was this Duke like?”

“Oh, he was tall and muscular but that wasn’t what attracted all the girls to him. It was more the way he had about him.”

“What way?”

“He had a easy way about him. He wasn’t controlling but somehow you always ended up doing what he wanted to do.” Mom paused. “You remind me of him, actually.”

That was music to my ears. Mom seemed to have a thing for this guy from her past so the similarity couldn’t hurt me.

“Did he tell you about this secret place?”

“No. It was my idea. My father had taken to cruising through Connaught Hill to see if we were there. He didn’t like the Duke. Told me to stay way from him.”

“The Duke?”

Mom laughed. “That’s what the kids called him. The Duke.”

“Like John Wayne?”

“He was no John Wayne.”

I had been playing with Mom’s skirt with my foot during this exchange and had pushed it back as far as I could, then used my other foot to drag it further onto Mom’s hip. Mom looked down at her pushed-up skirt, and shook her head.

“Men. One track mind.”

Mom dropped a hand from the wheel and pulled the hem of her skirt way up, exposing the panties that had only been peeking out.

“There, is that what you wanted to see?”

Yes, I thought, but I barely nodded. When she looked back at the road, my neck craned so I could see as much as possible.

“Sit closer, then,” Mom said, “before you break your neck.”

My face flushed at getting caught being so obvious but I responded immediately to the invitation. Shifting into the middle of the seat, I was happy to see that Mom’s hand still held her skirt up, exposing the entire front of her panties.

“Hold this,” Mom shook the hand holding her skirt, “while I drive.”

I took the skirt. Mom’s panties were plain white but they were made of a very thin fabric that outlined her pussy in pleasing detail. When I sighted the notch running down the middle, my guy instantly sprang into life.

“You better get an eyeful, because we’re almost there.”

This had to be Sandy talking now. Was adopting the Sandy persona Mom’s way of closing her eyes in broad daylight?

Mom dropped her hand from the wheel again, this time grasping the zipper on the front of her dress. She tugged it down a couple of inches, loosening the dress sufficiently that her breasts sagged down her chest instead of sticking almost straight out. The effect was marvelous, opening and separating her tits, making them appear far sexier. I wanted to grab them right away.

“Here we are.” Mom turned off the country road onto a farming road that twisted away in the distance over low, rolling hills. She sped up and we bumped our way down the road, Mom laughing as we crested hills and sunk like a roller coaster down the far sides. I was less interested in the countryside, preferring to watch Mom’s loosened tits tumble around on her chest. My hand was unable to keep her skirt bunched up by her waist. It dropped to the seat with my hand as I tried to brace myself to resist the jolting ride, providing me with an excuse to rub that skirt up and down the front of Mom’s panties as we bounced along.

After suffering several miles of this, Mom pulled off onto the tall, rough grass and drove about 100 feet off the road. She jolted to a stop just as I realized we were nearing the edge of a small bluff overlooking the fields below and the highway we had exited far away in the distance. The car lurched to a stop as Mom braked hard stopping must before the edge of the bluff. She threw the car into park and shut the engine off. Silence descended on us. Mom gazed out the windshield and I looked down at my hand firmly cupping Mom’s panties.

Mom followed my gaze down. Looking at my hand, she said, “You’ve been a very naughty boy lately, Jason.”

This didn’t sound like Sandy talking. I nodded and kept very still, not knowing what to expect.

I was thrilled when I felt Mom’s panties press onto my hand and squeezed it in acknowledgement.

“Did you think if you came out here today, you’d be able to nail ‘Sandy’?”

Mom twisted her hips, bumping her panties harder against my hand to emphasize her query.

Caught flat-footed, I was tongue-tied. Why do guys think we’re so clever when we’re really quite clumsy? We should leave the subtlety game to women.

“Ahhh Mom,” Mom nodded knowingly. “You were hoping for Sandy but ended up with Sandra?”

Mom laughed and I was relieved that she didn’t seem angry.

“Don’t look so shocked. At least you’re smarter than your father. Like most men, he thinks a woman is one or the other: a Sandy or a Sandra. With all his years he still doesn’t know that every woman has some of both inside, even if they don’t show it. They’re just not there at the same time.”

Mom bumped me with her panties again.

“Don’t have to look so scared. I’m not going to take your little toy away from you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mom pushed her panties up and rubbed them in my hand.

“See. You can still play. You’re just not going to get what you were hoping for, what you thought you were going to get on the hill. So just take your time and be happy with what you do get. You’re not going to have it all.”

Mom bumped her panties against my hand several times.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, putting her hand on my cheek, then curling it around behind my neck “play with it if you want.”

I moved slightly, rubbing Mom’s mound.

“That’s it,” Mom cried, sucking in her breath. “I like it when you play,” she whispered.

As my hand rubbed, Mom pulled my head toward hers. She covered my lips with hers and sucked my face. When we broke for air, my hand was frigging her more rapidly.

“Take your time,” Mom said. “We have all afternoon and you’re not getting much more than this.”

I slowed my hand down.

“That’s it. I like it when you go slow, and push way in.”

I was surprised by Mom’s second acknowledgement of my naughty activities at home. She was panting. Not as much as I was, but she was still quite excited. Maybe there was a chance she would get carried away, despite what she said.

“What kind of sandwich do you want?”

“What?” I cried.

“Do you want tomato with ham, or tuna with pickles?”

My hand stopped. I was stunned. How could she...

“I’m kidding,” Mom said, laughing out loud. “Christ, the look on your face.” She laughed hysterically.

Obviously, it was going to take a superhuman effort to get Mom carried away. I started working her panties while she laughed, manipulating her puss with independent action from each finger rather than just rubbing her with my hand. Mom’s laughter faded away and was replaced by heavy breathing. Her hand pulled my neck closer but I skinned past her mouth to bury my face in her neck, latching on with my mouth.

“Don’t give me a hickey,” she cautioned.

I ignored her and sucked on her throat. My fingers had pushed her panties into her slit and were stroking her pubes on each side. I dug my Pathfinder inside, hooked the panties and pulled them out and to the side, baring her pussy. The Pathfinder plunged inside.

Mom gasped loudly.

“You can call me Sandy if it helps you,” she whispered.