I was looking forward to Mik coming home; he had been away at university for 2 months with not even a single visit home. It had been the final term of the year, and it had been full-on studying and examinations and presentations to tutors. It was now the end of the term and the end of the university year. Between term years, the university hired out the halls of residence to external organisations for their residential events, and so students had to remove all their belongings from their rooms, and that meant Mik coming back home to us.

Paul, Mik’s dad, and I had to drive up to Durham to pick him up and load all his stuff in the car and bring it home; it would have been a tight squeeze, and so we took Paul’s estate. My small hatchback would have been utterly useless. We had a one-hour slot allocated when we were permitted to park on campus by the dorm and arrived just as our slot started.

Mik met us, and after hugs and cheek kisses, we went up to his room. It was a mover’s nightmare, stuff everywhere. There were some big boxes and an awful lot of blue Ikea bags stuffed with clothes and other less bulky things. Paul and Mik took the bigger and heavier stuff, and I started down with the blue bags. After a few journeys up and down the stairs to the car, it was obvious it was not going to be an easy fit. Paul and Mik started moving stuff around, and then Paul said.

“It won’t fit, not and the three of us.”

“How about”, I said, “if we fill the front seat and front footwell, and then fold the small half of the rear seat and fill the boot and half the back, Mik and I can squash together in the back seat?”

“Could work,” Paul replied.

Much reworking, putting stuff in, taking it out, and moving it, and we came to the conclusion that it would only fit in if we only saved the smaller seat in the back and folded down the bigger one. It would only leave one seat in the back.

“Well, I shall have to sit on Mik’s lap,” I said. “No other option.” I’m not that heavy, only a size 10 in clothes, so it shouldn’t be too bad for Mik.

And so, we set off. Paul was driving, Mik was sat on the back seat behind Paul, and I was sat on Mik’s lap. Not the most comfortable, but it was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. I was sure I could deal with it; I hoped Mik could too. If not, then we would have to stop for a comfort break in the literal sense.

“Alright, Mik?” I asked as we left campus.

“Yes, Mum,” he answered.

I knew it couldn’t be that comfortable; I was pretty sure I was pressing into his crotch. I was fairly sure that wasn’t a rolled-up handkerchief I could feel. I tried to lean forward a little to ease the pressure on him, but it wasn’t easy to maintain, and when I tried to get comfortable, what I had felt before was even more noticeable.

Paul had the radio on so he could get any traffic news; therefore, we weren’t really chatting much. “All alright back there?” Paul called.

“Yes, Dad,” Mik answered back.

“Mum”, Mik whispered to me, “you’re kind of pressing my zip into me; it hurts a bit.”

I imagined it would. “What can we do?” I asked him.

“Try and sit up a bit, and I will try and undo my zip; that should make it easier.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but I pushed my arms down where I could and lifted myself up off his lap. I could feel him fumbling beneath me, and then I heard the zip being pulled. He fiddled about a bit more and then whispered, “Okay, Mum, that should do it.”

I settled down. “Oh no, Mik, no,” I said softly. “No.” I could feel Mik’s cock sticking between my thighs, rubbing against me. I was wearing loose cami knickers, and somehow he had managed to get his cock inside and rubbing directly against my sex.

“Nothing I can do, Mum, sorry,” he whispered back.

I tried not to think of it, where he was, or what he was rubbing against, but that wasn’t easy; every time Paul drove over a bump or a pothole, the rubbing was more intense. I was getting cross with myself for getting aroused, and I knew I was getting wet. Mik was obviously hard; I hoped he was not getting turned on by me, I’m his mum, for goodness’ sake.

There was a big bump that jolted me in the air. “Sorry about that,” Paul called from the front, and at that point things became worse, much, much worse. As I landed from the jolt Mik’s cock pushed inside me, I was now being penetrated by my son.

“Fuck, Mum,” Mik said. “I can’t move, sorry.”

“Just sit still, and whatever you do, Mik, don’t move; this is bad enough.” I must have been a lot wetter than I thought; his cock had gone straight in. Had I really been that aroused by the feel of my son’s cock? I tried to evaluate what I was feeling. His cock felt the same as his dad’s, a good, thick and long size; he would have had no difficulties with girlfriends.