Prom For Mom

It's prom night. I'm chaperoning my kid's junior prom, wearing what looks more like something a mobster's mistress would wear to his funeral. I'm in mourning for my daughter's childhood, I say to the Hot Dad who turns out to also have a flask hidden in his jacket. (To dull the pain of his first prom, he tells me.) Mine is in my garter, so I have to make repeated trips to the ladies' room to spike my punch a little more, which is rapidly becoming just rum. Plus an extra shot straight down the hatch before I put it back in its hidden spot between my legs. I tug the garter up a little higher to press the lid of the little silver bottle up into the warm, damp divot of the crotch of my black lace panties that lies directly over my sensitive hole. I wiggle slowly to pull my skirt down, pressing my thighs together and working the flask back and forth as I do.

When I come back out to the gym after my latest liquor trip to the ladies' most of the kids have already left, including my own and Hot Dad's. The only students left are the ones you wouldn't have to chaperone anyway. The organizers that will clean up and claim it was more fun than any of the stupid parties all the other kids have headed off to. I say as much to Hot Dad and ask him if we should shove them in their lockers, where they will surely go to get their purses and jackets since these are the ones that are way too uptight to leave them on the table like a normal irresponsible teenager. He laughs and says he'd like to shove me up against a locker. I throw my head back and laugh and grab him by the hand and lead him out into the night.

Outside the gym, there are still plenty of cars full of overdressed teens, stopped to confer on where to go next, many piling into rented limos. We see one kid arguing with a chauffeur while his group stands around with their arms crossed. Hot Dad and I stumble in that direction, stuffing condoms in car windows as we make our bumbling way, but before we get there the kid throws his arms in the air and they all stalk off, finding rides with other people. We ask the driver what the problem was and he tells us that the kid swore that his dad already paid him, but the driver claimed he didn't and wouldn't take them anywhere else unless they coughed up the cash.

"Well, I have cash," Hot Dad announces, looking at me.

"Then pay the man!" I answer as I pull open the back door and fall inside, giggling and tugging my skirt down.

Once inside the driver won't give us the key to the champagne cooler until Daddy shells out more money. There are no glasses, evidently removed to avoid being smashed by drunk teenagers, so Daddy and I have to each have our own bottle to swig from.

Daddy tells the driver to drive and rolls up the privacy window. He slides right up against me and puts his big hand up to my cheek, the other gripping his champagne, and kisses me long and deep. When he pulls back, I look him in the eye and hand him my bottle for his other hand. I straddle his lap and grip his lapels as I proceed to suck on his lips and tongue like you would a papercut finger. I run the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip and lean back and take one of the bottles from him and drink deeply from it.

He watches me as I wipe the dribble off my chin and out of my cleavage. I roll back over into my own seat and look out the window and sigh, "Best prom ever." Just as I lean forward to roll down the privacy window and tell the chauffer my address, Daddy drops his bottle to the floor board with a thump and wraps both arms around my waist from behind. I laugh and pat his hands on my belly and tell him it's past midnight and I'm about to turn into a pumpkin. Instead of letting go or even trying to talk me into anything he immediately tightens his grip and pulls me back away from the electric window switch. He doesn't say a thing, but I realize his breathing is rapid and angry sounding behind my ear.

"Hey," I continue laughing, trying to play this off as just a part of the game, "I need to get home. My kid will be there soon."

He still doesn't say a thing, but lets go of my waist giving me a microsecond to let down my guard before he grabs my hair and swings me around to face him again. Neither of us speak now. We both know what's happening.

With his free hand he unzips his pants and pulls out his dick. He yanks my head down and shoves it in my mouth then grabs the back of my head with the other and uses both hands to pump my head up and down while I push at him ineffectually. After a minute of this he just holds my head down on it, so I can't breathe. I start smacking his thighs with my hands and trying to twist away. He holds me there until I quit struggling and I'm about to pass out then jerks me up. As I gasp to catch my breath and try to clear my vision he pushes me down on my belly on the long bench seat and pushes my skirt up to my hips. He takes a moment to run his hand up my leg over my stocking and I try to launch myself forward. He grabs my by the hair again and pushes my face down into the leather. He reaches between my legs and pushes a finger past the crotch of my panties and into my hole, which is still loose and wet from the fun before. He lets out a low moan and grabs ahold of the crotch of the panties and rips them off with one hard wrench.

I have enough breath now to try to start screaming, but my throat is raw from the abuse and I only moan. He presses my face harder into the seat. I feel him putting more fingers inside me and then he slides up over me and rams his incredibly hard cock in with one rough thrust. I gasp at the size of it and he slams it in and out until finally I feel it swell up larger than ever and he gives one last slam and collapses on top of me.