SITTING ON MY STEP SON'S LAP_-_episode 5

“I just need to stretch for a bit,” I answered.

“I could grab a drink,” my husband nodded, as he pulled into the stop.

“Me too,” I agreed, feeling a bit dehydrated. Once we rolled to a stop, I joked to Mike, “I imagine you’re dying for a break, too.”

“No, I’ve been enjoying the ride,” my stepson answered without implying any sort of s--ual innuendo.

Truth be told, except for my frustration and guilt, part of me had been enjoying the ride too. However, if I dared to mention it, there would be a definite s--ual charge to my words, so I remained silent.

My face, which was already quite flushed, went a shade darker as I opened the door and climbed out. I’m not sure if my face could get any redder than it already was.

We went to the restroom, ate, and then I headed to the bathroom to clean myself. My stepson climbed back into the car first and patted his lap. I’d intended to get in first and suggested, “Shouldn’t we try side by side again?”

“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, patting his lap once again. “You sure?” I asked, knowing it could get awkward without my wearing any p--ties and my p--sy still damp from the aftermath of a strong orgasm.

“Side by side will be too tight,” he replied. “We already learned that the hard way.”

There’s that word ‘tight’ again, I thought. Is he saying that on purpose?

“But I’ll crush your legs,” I pointed out, desperate to avoid sitting on his c--k again, having enjoyed it too much the first time.

He shrugged dismissively, “Oh Mom, you’re not heavy at all.”

“You sure?” I asked again, still tentative, as I looked down and could still see the shading of a p--sy juice stain on his shorts, as well as the clear outline of his c--k, which at least no longer looked to be completely er--ct

“Mom, it’s not hard at all,” he answered, now repeating the word ‘hard’.

The naughty side of me wanted to respond, ‘but it likely will be hard quite soon’, but the good mom in me responded, “If you’re sure I won’t bother you?”

He shrugged, “I can handle whatever you give me.” So I sat back down on his lap, his words again possibly dripping with in--nuendo. This time, I adjusted myself sideways to sit more onto his leg to avoid his c--rotch.

For half an hour, I sat precariously but reasonably virtuously in that spot as we continued driving. Then I felt his hands on my hips as he informed me, not asking for my opinion, while he lifted me up slightly, “Mom, we need to change positions.”

When he lowered me back down, my p--sy was again directly seated on his c--k, which was again stiff and prominent. I couldn’t help but let out a slight mo--n as my unclad p--sy once again responded to its pressure.

I just sat there, still in complete shock that my stepson’s c--k was buried deep inside me, anchoring me in place. The urge to start riding my stepson’s c--k grew with every second it remained inside me.

I wondered what my astonishing stepson was going to do next, secretly wishing Mike would take even more control. 

Yet, I worried that if my stepson did take control, I would be unable to conceal the obvious reality that we were committing incest just inches away from my husband.

I just sat there and, judge me if you must, enjoyed the ride. Every bump in the road gave me fresh pleasure as Mike’s c--k surged up inside me. I had to use all my willpower not to mo--n, not to alert my husband to the inces--tuous adul--tery I was committing, and I couldn’t deny, committing willingly.

This seemed to prompt my stepson finally to take control. He began slowly lifting me up and down on his c--k. 

I clamped my lips together to make sure I wouldn’t mo--n as a mixture of emotions swirled through me: excitement because my stepson was finally taking control, humiliation because I was excited he was taking control, pleasure because the slow f--cking was now coursing through every fiber of my being, frustration because he wasn’t f--cking me hard like I liked it, although I knew there was no way that was a good idea, and guilt because I was allowing my stepson to f--ck me.

What strange sound and movement am I hearing back there? My husband asked.