Chapter 04: Pit Stop

“Does anybody want anything?” Dex asked as my daughter said, “I need to use the restroom,” and exited the car with her little backpack in hand.

“A large bottle of water,” my son said.

I looked at my daughter’s empty seat. I watched my husband throw open his door and slide his seat backward until he could exit the car comfortably. I felt my son’s rock-hard cock throbbing beneath me, and a lightning bolt zigzagged through my mind.

“I want one of those small blankets,” I said, trying to control my breathing.

“A blanket?” Dex asked, turning his head as far as he could. “I can turn on the heater.”

I pushed my door open and exited the car, my legs trembling when I tried to stand up straight. Dex followed my lead, leaving his keys in the ignition as always. I closed my door and stepped up to my husband, pushing my tits against his polo-shirt-covered chest. The friction made my nipples tingle.

“I’m practically naked,” I said, looking into my husband’s eyes and grabbing onto his shoulders. “I’m sitting in our son’s lap with nothing but my thong protecting me from his lap.” I had lost control. “You got me so wet upstairs before we left”—did I see a glint of humor in my husband’s eyes—”and I can feel the power in that car right between my legs.” Why was I saying this to my husband? “You know how horny I get. Get me a damn blanket.”

“Okay,” Dex said, smiling. “One thin, piece-of-shit gas station blanket coming up.”

“Thank you.”

As my husband headed inside with visions of his pit crew working on his Porsche in his head, I looked through the car at my daughter’s empty seat.

“Top her off and clean off the windows,” my husband called to the full-service attendant as he headed into the station. “Quickly though, I got to get back on the road; there’s a big tip in it for you.”

I ignored the odd looks my nun’s habit got me as I walked around the car—Halloween was a day away—and opened the passenger door. “We’re sitting in front,” I said, my eyes focusing on the tent lifting my son’s cotton shorts, and what a fucking tent it was. A little bit bigger than his father ... in every way.

“Something wrong?” Colt asked.

I looked up from his shorts, where his knob pressed against the cotton. Was he wearing his boxer briefs? I didn’t think he was. I met my son’s eyes, and I could see he knew where I was looking. Is something wrong? Was he fucking with me?

“I want more legroom,” I said. “Lana can sit in the back.” I look at my son’s cock again, not saying anything about his hard-on, and when I look back into his eyes, knowing that he knew where I had been looking, a tremor ran through my shoulders. “Your sister can’t sit in your lap with ... with how she’s feeling.”

“She won’t mind,” Colt said.

I glared at my son.

“Okay,” Colt said, and maybe I saw a smile crept onto his lips. It was hard to say. My son always had this happy-go-lucky air about him and a wicked sense of humor.

He didn’t get out of the car. Instead, he lifted his feet, thrust them between the two front seats, and pulled himself over the center console with an athlete’s ease and sense of body control. He settled in the passenger seat—which Lana had already pushed as far back as it could go—and said, “Climb aboard, Mom.”

I looked over the Porsche’s roof, giving the attendant a quick look as he cleaned the rear windshield, then I turned forward, lowered my butt, which caused my gown’s hem to rise, and I slid into the car—right atop my son’s cock with my skirt around the middle of my ass.

“Uhhh,” I moaned as his knob pressed between my cheeks, tickling my asshole before slipping forward and grinding into the lace of my panties right where my pussyhole lay. I had needed to release that moan.

“Mmm,” Colt moan-grunted, keeping his lips closed, the sound coming from his throat. His hands found my hips as I pulled the door shut.

“Just need to get comfortable,” I said, moving my panty-clad pussy against my son’s rigid cock.

“Sounds—mmm—good,” Colt whispered.

What was I doing? I was supposed to be putting an end to this.

“When your—mmm—father gets back,” I huffed, “we’ll have to have to have—oh—found our spots.”

“I know,” Colt moaned. “I know, Mom, trust me—I, uh—I know.” She thrust hard against me. “I’m just looking for your spot right now.”