Chapter 3

My mother visited for Andrew’s fifteenth birthday. She had visited a couple times since my aborted trip, but this was for her grandson. Her medical treatments had ended. Her hair regrew to reach her narrow shoulders. Instead of cookies she brought advice. “You’re a man now, Andrew. Your mother and father have raised a fine son. I’m proud of you. They’re proud of you.” She held out her hand. I heard metal tinkle. “It’s not new, but it’s not a junker. I wanted to give you one you have to work for. It’ll need a lot of care and money, until you can afford to buy your own. If I hear that you’ve weaseled your parents into fixing it, I’ll take it back.”

“Mom!” I gasp, “You can’t give him a car. He can’t even drive for another year!”

“Wendy, that’s too much!” Garrick supported me.

“Hush.” My mother snapped. She smirked at her grandson. “I put the car in your name, Andrew, but I’m giving the key to your mother.” Her arm swung. A ring of matching keys dropped in my lap. “Andrew, this isn’t a gift as much as it is a test. If you can be responsible for a wonky car, you can be responsible for anything that motivates you.”

Andrew’s glee evaporated. “Ehh, thanks?”

Mother hugged him. She looked at me. “See that you don’t peek in the back seat when you take him and a girl to a movie.” Mom paused. She looked back at her grandson. “Did I assume wrong?” She grinned at him. “I’m good with whatever dating preference you have. Your parents never tell me anything.”

Andrew blushed. “Yeah, I um, like girls.”

Where my mother had found a classic, Audi Quattro, for a price she could afford was less baffling than one might think. She had a network of auto professionals she played like a full stage of puppets. We found out how true her warning was, about its maintenance, but it was a beautiful thing in motion and at rest.

We all hopped in for a ride in the hills. Mother paid for the tow back home. Her auto club was more like a clobbering club, given the price the tow-person’s boss told him to charge. My emergency service plan wouldn’t have provided a trip around a slight curve, for that price.

Crestfallen, in the short term, Andrew perked up back home, when Mother showed him the tool chest she’d stuck in the trunk. He spent several days figuring out what was wrong, ordering parts and correcting the problem. After failing twice, he said he hated his car. Grandma was long gone. I told him I could get the right manual through inter-library loan, but that’s where my auto expertise ended. He tried again and the car returned to disagreeable but sexy form.

“Mom, you can’t use my car.” He said after we’d road tested his repairs. “It’s too fragile. I don’t want it to break down when I’m not in it.”

I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. Work wasn’t very far away, but taking the bus was often inconvenient.

To pay for all the parts and fluids, Andrew found work at a parcel delivery service. He hauled cargo from conveyer to truck and from truck to conveyer. Garrick signed a waiver to let Andrew be hired at his age.

Less than a month later, he walked into the house, having finished a day at school. He told his father and I, “I’ve got a date for Thursday night. Who wants to drive?”

A suspicion caught up with me as I was falling to sleep that night. Andrew knew his dad went to bed early on nights before he drove to work. I was the only one who could have chaperoned him and his date.

Melinda was unremarkable, a nice but dull sort. Like mothers throughout history have claimed, I honestly couldn’t guess what my son saw in her. They sat in back. I drove them to a diner. I remained in the car and read a book on my tablet. We next saw a movie, at the town’s only drive in, a city landmark resurrected. It played kids movies and classic horror. We arrived mid first scream. I plunked the speaker box on the half recessed window. I left the car to buy popcorn, which I ate at the refreshments booth, staring at and smiling at the terrible film. My phone buzzed. I’d turned off the ringer. It was Andrew. “Andy?”

“Sorry, Mom. I made a mess of things-”

“I’ll be right there.” I hurried back to the car. Melinda was gone.

“She called for a Lyft, Mom.”

“What did you do?” The girl was too boring to have caused any trouble.

Andrew worried me by popping a grin. “Oh, a bit too much it seems.” He waggled his eyebrows. The edge of a shadow made the erection behind his pants look bigger.

“We’ll talk when we get home.” I took the keys out of my handbag and slid into the driver’s seat. After returning the speaker to its stand I started the car. Andrew got out and into the seat beside me. To be clear, I told him, “I’m sure your dad will have something to say when you tell him the details.”

Andrew reached over and turned off the engine before pulling out my keys. He sighed with accomplishment. “It’s time for you to abandon your responsibility, Mom.”

“Andrew, what are you talking about? Give me those keys.”

My son explained. “I didn’t know what you really meant at first. For a year, I replayed what you’d said in my head. Then Grandma brought this present. What she told me then, that I could be responsible for whatever motivated me, solved your riddle.” He tucked the keys into a creche in the shotgun door. His other hand grabbed mine from the wheel. “Mom, I need to use you.”

I huffed nervously, suddenly remembering what I had posed, two years ago to save my marriage. It had been a good, two years. Had they been enough? “You’re out of your teenage mind, Andrew!” I scolded him with indignation.”

“Look, Mom, I’m not kidding around. You used to jack me off whenever I could get you alone. You even seemed to like it, however much you protested.” Andrew moved my hand towards his bulging crotch panel. He stopped and let go. “It’s not your fault, Mom. I made you do it. You’ll never be responsible for what I make you do.” My son promised with cement conviction.

“Th-this is ridiculous, Andy. Give me those keys.”

“Give me your hand mother.” He countered. “I’m going to use it.”

“I’ll get out of the car. I’ll walk home if necessary.” I tried.

“No, Mom. You’ll stay right here. It’s warm and safe. Now roll up the window.

My hand reacted before I could think. A whirr lifted the glass barrier. Why couldn’t the damn car break down for my sake? Soon, our hot breath would steam the windows like half of the cars around us.

“Take your hand and unzip me.” He spoke unwavering.

“Please, Andrew, I’m sure you’ll find a girl to experiment with. I remember how guys found willing girls at my high school. You’re good looking and popular.” His pals remarked about girls who wanted my son. I lent them but half an ear, as a proper mother should.

“You don’t get it, Mom.” His head shook slightly. “I brought Melinda here to dump her. I’ve only wanted you since I first rubbed out an orgasm against you. Now get your hand busy here, Mom.”

I fell back from his insistance, but my arms obeyed. Looking away from their betrayal, I popped the top button and unzipped my son’s jeans. An eye curled back. My boy’s nice, hard cock spilled out with more than a little hair. He wasn’t wearing underpants. The truth sank in. I had been his target from the moment he asked his father and I to drive him.

“Ahh, that’s much better.” He closed his eyes and opened them.

“It’s terrible, what you’re doing! Don’t you realize that?” I pleaded.

“No, Mom, it’s just Nature. She wants strong men to win mates. I love Dad, but he doesn’t really get how incredible you are. You’re life is half wasted. You need me as much as I need you.”

“I’ll never betray your father.” I managed to bring my hands back to me.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m betraying him. You don’t have a choice.” He snapped. “Put your hand around my dick and make me cum!”

I willed my hand to stay, but it obeyed my son. It reached out and grasp the firm, blood filled flesh of my flesh and blood. The shadow I thought had magnified his size had not lied. My son was very much a man. Heat radiated through my engulfing fingers. I clenched it, hand quivering.

“That’s feels really great, Mom. Now pull on it. I bet you remember how fast I like it.

I hoped the darkness hid my red face. He liked to start slow.

“Andrew, don’t you care about me?” My hand moved on its own. He closed his eyes and sighed happily when I finally succumbed to his wicked ambition. “Sure I do, Mom. See it from my point of view. You never really fight about it. You complain and fuss but your hand won’t stop. Ghhh, ummm. I love how you milk it.

“Sure, those old pornos were crap stories, all wrong about women, but they got one thing right about us.” He reached fingers into my hair and turned my face to him. “I can use you.”

I winced at the phrase. It wasn’t true! My mind revolted! My hand paused, but he gave it a push with his, and I resumed jacking off my son. “This is so degrading. I hate you.”

He kissed me, right on the lips. “I know better. Mmmm. You’re so good. You must practice on Dad, a lot.”

I’m not sure I could have blushed harder. His father liked me to get him hard with my hand, when he wasn’t already. I’d been fluffing my husband more frequently in the last few months. His work had become more demanding after landing a lead position at his company. He never complained at my daily attempt to ball. In fact he started keeping track of how many days we could go before he had to beg off. “This is what you’re good for, Ingrid.” I heard the voice in my head more clearly than ever. “You don’t deserve your husband’s love.”

“It’s okay, Mom. You can cry.” Andrew kissed my tears. “Just. Don’t. Stop.” He hummed from stimulation increasing in his manipulated prick.

I didn’t. My hand slowly sped up.

“That’s right. Oohh, perfect.” My son encouraged.

“Please don’t make me make you cum, Son.” I begged. “I can’t bear to think, what you make me do.”

“Accept it, Mom.” He kissed my trembling lips. His tongue sought to penetrate. I put up a barrier of teeth. I had to resist where I could, but that only made my hand jerk my child’s bulging cock, faster. “Aaaahhh, you are going make me cum, Mom.” He pulled his lips free from my oral defense.

A part of me, deep inside wanted my son to cum hard. “If you’re only good for pulling on your boy’s dick, you might as well do it as well as you can.” The wicked voice returned.

The sixty foot movie screen presented the monster raging through a swarm of innocent people. The hero was down for the count. I pulled on my son’s big dick, in his small Audi, while the monster outside roared and slashed. Andrew grunted and groaned as I built up tension in his churning balls. “Ohhh, that’s good. You do remember. You enjoyed doing it even, didn’t you mom?” His voice didn’t command, but I answered.”

“I-I don’t like you making me do this.”

“Heh,” my son grinned at me, “That’s not what I asked.” He kissed me. “I know the answer. The day you admit it, will be the day you become mine. Every stroke brings you closer to me, Mom.”

I looked away, to hide the flush that overtook my face. Even in the dark car, I couldn’t risk that. My hand continued to speed up, jacking his hard cock, trying to make it cum stronger than he ever cum before.

“OHHH! Momma, it’s gooood!” He closed his eyes. The feeling from his mother stroked dick turned his mind inward, to relish every spark of pleasure. His zipper grated against my dancing hand. It rasping didn’t slow me. If it cut me, my hand would continue. I whacked his prick harder and harder.

I held my breath, but my mind seethed. Cum, damn you! Squirt your boy juice over my fucking hand. Coat your momma’s fuck arm with hot spunk.

“I-I’m gonna-” He cried out, “Yaaahhh! Cumming, Mom!” His dick leaped in my hand. Its piss hole opened and flung thick, white goo up in the air. It fell on my hand and arm and his pants. I turned to watch in horror, but I didn’t stop.