The Car Ride

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Merhaba sex hikayeleri okuyucuları, derlediğimiz en büyük hikaye arşivini sizlerin beğenisine sunuyoruz.okuyup keyif almak ve sırılsıklam olmak işte tüm mesele bu.


Author’s Note: This is a quick one. One of the often-used tropes in incest erotica is the old “Mom sits on son’s lap” set-ups. In case you haven’t come across one of these stories, here’s the run-down. Because of a move, often related to college, a packed vehicle leads to a bit of a problem. Dad’s driving, but there’s not enough room for Mom and the son. As a result, an idea of Mom sitting on the son’s lap is put forth. The father, often frustrated with traffic, is oblivious to the predicament in the other seat as Sonny gets hard due to the vibrations of the road and a sexy mother in his lap. Even as her panties are pushed to the floor or pulled to the side so that her son’s cock can push inside her waiting cunt, Dad is completely clueless.

In this story – he’s not so clueless.


“The train is leaving the station in fifteen minutes,” I called out from the open front door. “Be a damn shame if I arrived at Ferrum without the actual kid who is going to the college.”

My call to action seemed unheard, though I knew my booming voice couldn’t be denied. I slowly walked toward the truck, occasionally looking back to see if anyone finally got their ass in gear. A few minutes later, my wife of just over twenty years, Jenny, appeared at the front door. Like a fine wine, she continues to age all kinds of well. When I met her – also at Ferrum – all those years ago, the idea that this woman who handled a keg stand like a champ would someday give me two amazing children and a never-ending love would have been a ridiculous premise. I just wanted to fuck her at the time. Back then, she had large C-cup breasts, legs that never quit, and a nice little booty that screamed for a slap.

She still has those legs and the booty has only thickened over the years. Still looks amazing when she wears a thong for a date night. And those tits? Pregnancy only increased their size and while she gets frustrated that they don’t sit quite as high on her chest as they once did, they are one hell of a sight. She turns heads – both from guys my age and boys half my age. She’s a 5’4″ sexual dynamo that despite the fact we’re now in our 40’s, I still can’t get enough of touching, licking, and fucking.

I won the lottery the day she said “I do.” And don’t think I’m not quite aware of that fact.

The last nineteen years have been spent raising our two children – Christopher and his slightly younger daughter Michelle. It was Jenny’s plan to get pregnant so soon after Chris was born. She wanted them close together in age. We’ve occasionally considered having a third child or even more, but ultimately, we felt our perfect little life didn’t need more chaos added to the equation. Chris graduated high school over a year ago, but spent a year working and attending community college as he tried to figure out what he wanted to do. We didn’t push him to attend Ferrum like we did. Quite frankly, I was hoping he’d fall in love with a state school like Michelle did. A little less of a hit on the old wallet. But he fell in love with the criminal justice department at my old alma mater.

Ferrum started a week before Michelle’s college did so we would be doing this big move again next week for her. At first, she was on board with the road trip down to rural southern Virginia, but as we packed the truck, we quickly figured out that there would be no room for her. There barely was enough room for Jenny and Chris. The latter’s decision to bring his TV since his roommate wouldn’t be bringing his led us to have a partition in the middle of the truck, which largely unnerved me. I could still see over the TV for a full-view as a driver, but it was still very aggravating and damn claustrophobic.

Chris would be sitting in the back seat on the passenger side while Jenny would be riding shotgun.

“Come on, Chris!” I hollered after patting Jenny on the butt. She grinned at me and licked her lips, causing blood to run to my cock. She can still very much get it. Turning my attention back to the house, I again tried to get my son to get his ass moving. “Shake a leg!”

I didn’t expect him to be carrying his amp and guitar. It had been decided that he would be leaving them behind after I pleaded with him to consider the size of the dorm room he was going to be sharing. Apparently, my son was calling an audible.

“Got room for a little bit more?”

I could have wrung his neck. When I opted for the extended cab, I sacrificed a good portion of the bed of the truck because having a regular-sized bed and the extended cab was out of my budget. It had been a nearly impossible fit already. We covered the ridiculous amount of his crap with a tarp as the forecast called for potential rain. That didn’t include the driver’s side backseat, which was also packed.

“Oh, no, not happening,” I said holding my hands up. “We don’t have time to try to go all Jenga and restack everything, re-tie the tarp, and all that jazz.”

“Come on, Dad,” he pleaded. “I was talking to this guy James, who Craig knows, and he said his girlfriend’s brother also canlı bahis goes to Ferrum and is looking for a guitarist for his post-hardcore band.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Even if I understood all of that, it doesn’t change the fact that there is no room for your amp. Listen, parent’s weekend is in October. Remind us to bring it with us.”

“October?!?!” he said as if I was being completely unreasonable.

He looked toward his mother for help. He had been doing that for nineteen years so I was not surprised by that move at all. Nor was I surprised when Jenny gave me the look of “come on, there’s gotta be something we can do.” But fitting the amp, plus a guitar, plus a human being into a small section available in my truck was not happening. I tried to make that clear to her.

“What if I followed in my car?” she suggested.

“And waste gas money?” I replied. “No way, Jose. I’m not made of money. Okay, Chris, put your crap back in your room and let’s get going. We’re almost twenty minutes behind schedule.”

Jenny kept trying to play the peacemaker. “I could stay back, Ethan.”

Throwing my hands up, I tried to keep my cool even as the August weather was already starting to heat up despite the still-early hour. “I can’t believe this,” I said exasperated. “We’re supposed to have lunch at Martin’s.”

When you have been married as long as we have, you make the effort to set up little times to enjoy one another’s company and remember why you work so well together. Adding a stop at Martin’s, where we had a number of dates during our college years, was just another way of making that work. I figured we’d get our son squared away, have a nice lunch, make a few stops on our way home, and maybe I’d be wearing Jenny as a hat by evening. If I didn’t pass out before then, of course.

“How about this?” Chris asked. The boy still wasn’t listening and had yet to make an effort to return his noise maker to his room. “Mom can sit in my lap.”

“Boy, have you lost your mind?” I asked. “This is a three-and-a-half hour drive – bare minimum. You’re asking me to illegally drive down to Ferrum with your mom sitting in your lap like this is a two-minute trip up the road?”

“Yeah, baby, I don’t know about that,” Jenny said in a soft tone. “Your momma ain’t as skinny as she once was.”

Chris insisted, though. “We’ll sit in the back,” he suggested. “The tinted windows will block things. Put my amp in the front seat, push it as far forward as it’ll go, and it’ll be fine. Please? Seriously, I don’t want to miss this opportunity to try out for this band.”

I looked at the truck. Technically, it was a sound argument. The front side windows were easy to see through, but the back windshield were dark and you had to be really close to even see anything. My safety-conscious self worried a bit about how it was still a potential danger, but on the other hand, I was getting Goddamn tired of standing in my front lawn as the sun kept moving higher in the horizon.

Turning my head to focus on my wife, I simply shrugged my shoulders. It was the classic “passing the buck to you” move we often did to one another. She scrunched up her face and made an aggravated noise.

“Fine,” she replied while looking at Chris. “If you think you can handle my big ass sitting on you, let’s get this show on the road.”

We spent the next few minutes trying to find the best way of getting the last things packed in the truck, moving the front passenger seat up to give them extra room, and getting situated in the car. Finally, thirty-four minutes behind schedule, I put the truck in drive and applied pressure to the gas pedal. We were on the move.

Jenny and I chatted while Chris fiddled away on his phone for the first several minutes as we left our town and headed toward the interstate. Once there, she also pulled out her phone and the conversation died off. I turned up the radio to play some Guns ‘N’ Roses and Motley Crue – apparently classic rock now – as I merged onto I-81 and got the truck up to speed before hitting the cruise control.

It was quiet in the back and my rearview mirror only picked up the left side of Jenny’s face. I kept asking if they were doing okay and if Chris needed a break, but over-and-over, I was given the same response that all was fine.

At first, I only assumed that Chris’s pride was speaking. The few times his head moved to the left and I could see him in my rearview, he looked to be straining. It’s not that Chris is a runt or anything. He played power forward in basketball and was a decent rebounder. But eventually, even a petite woman can get a bit heavy after a while and my wife isn’t one of those zero- curves-and-ribs-showing women. Forty-five minutes into our drive, I was holding back a grin because I was sure Chris was regretting his decision to value his guitar over his comfort.

But a weird feeling was beginning to take over things in the cab. When I did try to talk to Jenny, her responses were, for lack of a better word, odd. She was responding to my statements, but there was this bahis siteleri weird shakiness to her voice. She, too, told me she was fine when I asked, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling me.

I suggested a pit stop. We were close to half-way and soon would be leaving the interstate for the remainder of our drive through God’s country. As I pulled into a gas station that doubled as a McDonald’s, I figured everyone would take a chance to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, and maybe load up on some caffeine. I knew I was. But both Chris and Jenny said they were fine. My wife asked if I would get her some water, but other than that, they remained in the truck.

A few minutes later, I jumped back into the cab and looked at Jenny to hand her a bottled water. She looked flush and was slightly moving up-and-down before holding still as I kept looking her way. She thanked me for the water.

You know how a voice deep down first plants a seed and the more you tell that voice that it’s crazy, the more the seed blossoms and eventually, you start thinking, “well, maybe that’s not so crazy after all?”

When you have been married to a woman for over twenty years, you pick up on certain things that others wouldn’t. I got the strangest sense of deja-vu in the moments after handing Jenny the water. The flushed face, the look of embarrassment, the halted movement…it all reminded me of a scene I experience every other month or so.

Jenny and I have an active sex life – especially for our age and the fact we’ve been married so long. It takes work, but if you care for the other person and you love them, you make it work. Despite the fact that we remain sexually active, we can’t always be there for one another at the time we feel the need to get off. Or sometimes, it’s just easier to handle things on your own. So, as I also do on occasion, Jenny takes care of herself. The cute thing about it is that despite the fact that I’ve seen two literal humans come out of her and seen her at her most vulnerable, she still looks deeply embarrassed when I catch her masturbating. I give her a little shit about it, but at the same time, I encourage it. In fact, sometimes I watch her or join. Just the other week, I found her masturbating to some erotic story on the web. Long story short, she turned over and I pushed a dildo in her ass as she played with her clit until she orgasmed. We washed up and she finished dinner. It was a nice evening.

All of this is to say that when I handed Jenny the water, she gave me the same embarrassed face she did when I stumbled onto her me-time. I tried to ignore that, though. It seemed absolutely crazy. She wasn’t getting turned on while sitting in her own son’s lap, after all. She definitely wasn’t playing with herself either. But the thought festered.

We were another twenty or so minutes up the road when I smelled it.

Or, to be more exact, when I smelled her. My eyes darted to the rearview mirror and I saw Jenny’s eyes closed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her gripping the cushion of the seat in front of her hard. And she was definitely moving up-and-down. There was no question about that.

I tried to go with the most likely option. She was probably sitting in Chris’s knee and, with the bouncing of the road, she was getting turned on. Chris probably didn’t even know about it and was obliviously playing a stupid game on his phone. Of course, Jenny was trying to hide it, even as her body betrayed her.

In a way, the whole idea was having another strange impact – I was getting turned on. Jenny and I aren’t super vanilla in the bedroom. I mentioned fucking her ass with a dildo and unlike a lot of couples, that’s not exactly birthday/anniversay stuff where you might get some anal play for a special occasion. No, for us, it was fairly regular. She loves her ass being played with. In addition to that, though, we played around with fetishes, light bondage, watching porn together, and some roleplaying. One of the her favorites is when I’m fucking her and she talks about how she wants to be a “cum dumpster” for a bunch of guys. How she wants cum in all of her holes and covering her body. It’s obviously fantasy and never going to happen, but it’s exciting to think about my darling wife being a whore for a bunch of guys. Sometimes, she’ll even play up to my minor curiosity when it comes to watching her with another guy. I don’t know why – I can’t imagine myself actually doing it – but when she, with a sparkle in her eye, suggests I’ll eat her cunt after another man cums inside of it, something inside me gets triggered.

We even included a couple of other couples in our sex life – in a limited facet. We webcammed with a few couples multiple times and talked about how we’d like to exchange partners for the evening while we fucked our spouses. We never really talked about adding someone to our in-person sex life, though. Too many variables we couldn’t control – especially with our children around. Though, with them leaving the nest, we both had mentioned bahis şirketleri the possibility a few times of late.

Thinking about my wife with another man wasn’t completely foreign obviously. That said, that other man was never my son. It had never been like this before.

But I couldn’t ignore the obvious problem with the idea that she was just rubbing on his knee. They had stayed in the truck together when I stopped at the gas station. And she clearly was flush and embarrassed and moving at the time. There was simply no way, no how, that my loving wife was just enjoying the feeling of my son’s knee against her wet pussy without (A) him knowing about it and (B) without more going on than simple rubbing.

She was trying. Oh, she was trying. She was trying to keep quiet, but my wife’s not the quiet type. It gets me off so I like it even if I know it makes life a little uncomfortable for our kids. Sorry, guys. Daddy likes his vocal wife But she was doing her damndest to avoid letting a moan escape. She couldn’t, however, hide the heavy breathing completely. When I stopped at the gas station, I turned the channel to some sports talk rather than the classic rock that could help cover the breathing. I got the feeling she wanted me to change it back.

I know I should have been mad. Even furious. But at the same time, I was absolutely enthralled. I had tried to get Jenny to roleplay a few times in incestuous scenarios, but she declined each time, telling me that not only did it make her uncomfortable, it did nothing for her libido. Me, on the other hand, had enjoyed this fetish for nearly as long as I knew how to stroke my cock. Back then, dial-up was too slow to properly appreciate porn so I looked up stories. I quickly found out that the incest stories made me the hardest and forced me to cum the furtherest. I looked at my mother and older sisters in a different light. Not that anything ever happened, but later in life, with a better internet connection, I could see those old fantasies often acted out in porn with the likes of Cory Chase, Molly Jane, Larkin Love, and Jodi West.

Like I said, Jenny knew of my interests, but wasn’t comfortable indulging it. She’d never roleplay as my mother, sister, and certainly not my daughter. But then, I wasn’t into watching guy-on-guy porn with her so it equaled out. We still had plenty of fetishes to grow together with.

I could hear her breathing increase. She was getting close to an orgasm. I wished I could get off this damn interstate and enjoy this more, but I worried if I changed too much from our schedule – that I desperately had wanted to adhere to – it would tip them off that I knew something was up. But in my head, the images were rolling at a ridiculous pace. I desperately needed to know more. Needed to know everything. Because, while I could still go back to the idea that he was blissfully ignorant of the hot little thing getting off in his lap, that was insanely ridiculous. He knew and I was sure he was 99.7% a willing participant in it.

The minutes rolled by with the smell of pussy filling the truck. She asked for me to put the windows down a little, but I denied her as it was so hot outside and the air conditioner was trying to keep things cool inside. Plus, the smell was intoxicating. I kept the talk radio on at a low volume, though I was zoning it out and listening to her breathing. When I looked at the rearview mirror, sometimes I would catch her with her mouth open like she wanted to release a moan, but was trying to stifle it. All the while, she was clearly moving up-and-down. Not exactly bouncing that nice rump down and sliding up to do it again like I’ve felt so many times, but definitely a north-and-south move.

Eventually, I pulled off the interstate and onto a highway as we neared our destination. The older the pavement, the more I caught her bouncing in the rearview. Oh, of course, part of that was the road, but it was quite clear it went beyond just that. I long ago abandoned the idea that she was simply rubbing herself against his knee. This was clearly much more than that. It had been too long for dry-rubbing. The chafing alone would kill the poor boy. It was obvious – my son was fucking my wife. And my cock was rock hard as a result.

The memory of the local area came flooded into my head and instead of taking the suggestive route which stuck to the main roads, I found myself pulling off the highway and hitting a collection of backroads that probably took an additional five minutes, but also introduced some bumpier roads and sharper turns into the mix. I thought about lying to the lovebirds and telling them I was trying to shave off a few minutes since we were behind schedule, but I don’t think either one of them gave a fuck anymore.

None of us spoke a word and I struggled to keep my eyes on the road, nearly running off a few times, as she bounced harder in the mirror. She, too, knew this ride was nearly done. She wanted my son’s cum in her pussy. Theoretically, she could even get pregnant. Sure, she was on birth control, but these things happen. What would I do if my son got my wife pregnant? How would I handle that? Would we ever address the giant-sized elephant in the room? Or would we pretend that it was definitely my child and raise it as such?

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