Back Seat Mom And Sis Ride Brother

Author's notes: I combined all eight chapters in the Backseat Ride series into this single story, added an ending, and made numerous revisions suggested in the readers' comments.

A row of squashed spiders like these indicate a scene break, plus sometimes a shift in the POV character: ********************

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My son, Lucas, was heading off to college. It was a relatively cool August day, by Austin standards, in the low 90s. Lucas, and my husband Cody and I, were building up a sweat loading our big Lexus SUV. The front passenger seat and the cargo area behind the back seat were already stuffed full of moving boxes. Lucas and I were trying to fit a big framed acrylic painting my son had done, on the floor of the back seat. It was a seemingly abstract painting where, if you looked long enough, you'd suddenly see a nude with olive skin and slim thicc curves. Which, coincidentally, is an accurate description of me. I'm short, five feet even, with large breasts and an even more curvy booty.

I've had unsolicited comments by many men that I'm a good looking woman, especially for being in my mid-30s. And if you've done the math on that... well, I don't recommend following my lead and being a pregnant teenager. Especially with a handsome but integrity challenged man who, I belatedly discovered, viewed our marriage vows as more of a guideline than a strict rule. As in, recently finding out he was cheating on me with what I had to assume, knowing his character, was a barely legal girl who likely needed fake ID to buy liquor. Basically, a potential trophy wife to recapture his youth.

My husband hadn't even done me the courtesy of being discreet, and then had compounded it by lying to me - while I was smelling a perfume I've never worn, the scent of her pussy, and the unmistakable odor of recent sex. Having your man tell you he's not cheating even though he smells of The Other Woman's cunt, because he doesn't grasp that you're smarter than him and have a much better sense of smell, is not conducive to a loving relationship.

The lying is arguably worse than the infidelity -- if he had had the cojones to fess up and end that affair, I might have forgiven him, since I inexplicably still love the cheating bastard. Because he'd doubled down on lies, the frequency with which we'd had sex in the tumultuous week since, had plummeted to Not At All. He wasn't particularly interested anyway, what with having a younger girl to fuck. And I wasn't inclined to be his backup side chick, what with having self-respect and all.

********************

Cody stared at the painting taking up most of the floor space behind the front seats, and obstructing the SUV's view to the rear. "That can't go. I gotta see traffic behind me."

The first rule of parenting is Make It The Kid's Problem To Solve. My husband being a large manchild, I applied that principle: "That's the only place it'll fit. And if we don't take it, you're gonna pay hundreds of dollars to ship that painting."

"Then it stays home."

Lucas had come out with the last armful of boxes, which he was wedging into the seating area behind the painting. "My painting, dad. It's coming with me."

"That painting cuts off most the legroom in the back. We'd only have one usable seat back there. Where's your mom gonna sit?"

"Mom doesn't weigh much. How about it, mom? You mind sitting on my lap?"

"Umm... I guess that's OK? Don't see another way to get everything in the truck."

"Hell no," Cody said. "I'm gonna clear everything off the front seat, and whatever doesn't fit in the car we leave behind. That way you can sit up front with me."

"Do you really think I want to talk to YOU for four hours, considering? I'll hang out with my son."

Lucas' eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out the contentious discussion between Cody and me. Then his eyes went wide. He's a smart kid. Figured it out.

Before Cody could reply, Lucas said, "Dad. What the hell?"

"I... uhhh--"

"Dad. Just don't. No excuses. And we ain't leaving my stuff here. Mom sits in the back seat with me."

"Fine." His look said it wasn't fine at all, but he desperately didn't want to have that awkward discussion with his kid.

Lucas was still giving Cody a 'Have You Lost Your Damn Mind' look.

"We all smell pretty ripe," I said, changing the subject. "Let's all take showers, and then hit the road so we can arrive before it gets dark."

********************

My shower didn't take long. Four hours is a long time to sit on someone's lap, so I wanted to wear something comfortable - jeans would be too tight. I looked in my closet, then tried on a magenta cotton sundress with thin shoulder straps, and bright red silk underwear. Cute. Not gonna work with a bra though - those spaghetti straps left too much of the bra showing. I took off the dress, removed my bra but left the panties on, and put the sundress back on. I looked in the mirror. Looked kinda hot and naughty with my big breasts -- feature, not a bug, I decided. Make Cody realize what he was missing. The dress was short, ending at mid-thigh.

Hell yeah. You've still got it, girl.

I heard a quick tap of the car horn outside. I took my time heading to the car -- Cody ain't the boss of me, especially after fucking some random tart. I set the alarm and locked the front door.

Lucas was already in the back seat. I sat on his lap and swung my legs into the car. My short dress rode up pretty high, so I tugged it down as much as I could. My son was wearing stylish French Blue shorts and a black t-shirt. He's a tall kid, athletic and tanned and good looking, with light brown hair and green eyes. He looked quite a lot like his father did at that age, except Cody had a lighter complexion, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

Those college girls are gonna looove Lucas, I thought.

I could feel the back of my bare legs being tickled by the hair on my son's muscular bare legs. "Are you comfortable?" I asked Lucas.

"It's fine, mom. You don't weigh much."

"You gonna use flattery like that with all those college girls?"

"Damn straight," he said. "It's worked great so far. I --"

"Annnd... TMI."

I looked over the top of the painting at my husband's face. The painting was blocking the view between the two front seats, so we could only see each other from the neck up. "Do you have enough legroom to drive?" I asked him.

"Sure," he answered. "Are you gonna be comfortable, sitting like that for four hours?"

I wriggled around on my son's lap. "Yeah. It's a tight fit, but it'll do." I grabbed a pillow that had been wedged in the back of the car and placed it between us, against Lucas' torso. Then I wiggled partly to the side and rested my head against Lucas' pillow-clad right shoulder, snuggling up. My forehead rested against his warm cheek. I breathed in the scent of his skin mingled with the woodsy cologne he had dabbed on. He smelled sooo good. It felt comforting to cuddle up against his tall body. I closed my eyes. "Kinda worn out. Think I'll try to nap."

Cody fired up the car, backed out of the driveway into the quiet residential street, and took off, the powerful engine quietly rumbling as he accelerated. He tapped the radio controls on the steering wheel until he got to Nirvana's "Come As You Are" playing on the local indie hipster college station.

I started to feel something a bit stiff pressing against my butt. I wriggled around to get comfortable, but that only made it harder.

Hunh. How big is that going to get? Does Lucas think I can't feel it between my cheeks? I opened my eyes to take a peek.

My dress had risen up while I wriggled, enough for my lacy red panties to peek out. I wondered if Lucas could see that. I thought about tugging my dress down to cover my panties, but realized I was getting a bit of a thrill from having my dress hiked up.

I'm so horny. Jesus, just a week without sex, and it's turning me into a bad mom. I really need to jill off when I get home. Fuck. I'm getting wet.

I opened my eyes wider and, looking up, raised my eyebrows at Lucas.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, his sexy deep voice rumbling, "Sorry. Can't help it. Do you want dad to turn around and go home?"

Mmm, I thought. Feels so good.

"I guess it's OK," I whispered back, trying to keep my voice nonchalant despite my rising libido. "Teenaged boys - you can't help it. Do YOU want to go back?"

"No. It's innocent, yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm," I whispered, trying to keep from moaning. "Totally."

Fortunately my husband couldn't see how high my dress was, or how aroused I was getting, or he'd pull a screeching U-turn and head home, protests from the back be damned.

I felt my son's hands on my panties, gently pushing me up. "I... uh... gotta get my johnson free," he whispered. "Kinda hurting, being bent."

Johnson? I thought. Do the yutes still use that euphemism?

I raised my booty enough so he could adjust himself. He smoothly moved the back of my dress out of the way. That left his prick nestled against the cleft of my cheeks and touching my lower back, with only the cotton of his shorts and the silk of my panties between us. "That's better," he murmured.

Damn, I thought. How big IS he? I closed my eyes. "Mmm," I murmured. "Sleepy."

His hands remained under my dress, very still, but continuing to hold the sides of my big booty through the lacy silk of the panties. As if I wasn't gonna notice the polished maneuver where he'd got my dress out of the way and his hands on my butt. Like he'd practiced this bold tactic on plenty of dates.

I kept my eyes closed, giving him plausible deniability, since his warm hands on my booty felt really good after a week of not allowing my husband to touch me.

I must have drifted off. I woke up and felt Lucas oh so cautiously squeezing my big sexy buns. The pillow must have slipped off while I napped, so I was resting directly against Lucas' hard athletic torso, which was radiating heat like a furnace. I wondered how long he'd been slyly feeling me up, but I didn't react, feigning I was still asleep. My pussy had reacted, though. It was slick and wet from the delicious touching.

His squeezing slowly got bolder. He eventually slowly slid his hands forward along the outside of my buttocks and then thighs, his hot skin sending little electric jolts into my brain, until his hands rested mid-thigh on my bare skin. He gave an affectionate squeeze, then slid his thumbs toward the inside of my thighs and the cleft of my legs.

I stirred a bit in my 'sleep', then shifted on Lucas' lap until my thighs were 'accidentally' parted more. I took a peek through barely slitted eyes at the rear view mirror up front.

My husband's eyes glanced back occasionally, ostensibly checking traffic through the narrow tunnel he'd cleared through the boxes in the back. But, he'd tilted the mirror so his right eye could meet mine when he looked back. Which meant, despite the seat back obscuring his view behind, he could see the right side of our faces over the top of the painting, unless we scootched to the left toward the door. But mostly he kept his eyes on the road, and appeared oblivious to the sensuous seduction behind him.

I closed my eyes again. Lucas took advantage of the opening of my thighs to slide his thumbs deeper into the valley of my legs, then slowly moved them up my inner thighs, barely touching my panties. He teased me, trailing his thumbs along the outside of my panties, not quite touching my trimmed pussy hair.

I was having a difficult time not moaning, and despite my best efforts to be still I felt my hips swaying a tiny bit side to side. Lucas reciprocated by bumping his hips forward a fraction, pushing his stiff cock deeper toward the cleft of my butt. The layers of intervening fabric - my panties and his shorts - stretched and resisted his progress forward, protecting me against my arousal and the rising need to feel his stiffness sliding deeper between my buns.

The hell with it, I thought. I kept my eyes closed in case my husband glanced back, still pretending to sleep, but I rested my hands on the top of Lucas' warm hands.

I felt him freeze, now that I had removed the pretense that this was entirely innocent. I began rubbing the top of his hands, gently at first then more insistently, covertly taking revenge on my cheating husband. I grasped his hands and moved them oh so slowly upwards, guiding him, letting him know my needs. He didn't resist, instead gently pressing his lips into the curly black hair covering the back of my neck, giving me a quiet thrill from the intimacy of that touch.

I guided his hands up, under my dress, his hands gliding over my bare smooth skin. His thumbs bumped into, then over, the slight crease of skin where my full thighs met my gently curved belly. He let me tease him by slowly moving his hands up along my torso, journeying toward my full breasts. I stopped when his thumbs were stroking the soft embrace of the underside of my large breasts. The curvy ripeness of a mature woman, not the flatness of a skinny teen girl whose breasts still defied gravity instead of being deliciously shaped by it.

I released his hands, to let him decide. I felt him relax, his body no longer tensed against me from indecision. Accepting the offer of my body.

He paused, presumably to check he wasn't being watched in the rear view mirror, then kissed my left earlobe -- the one my husband couldn't see -- and breathed hotly into my ear, with a low moan of passion.

His hands began to roam over my breasts, touching and squeezing and feeling their weight. I felt a jolt run through me as his fingers rubbed then twisted my nipples until they were hard. He was hard further below also, his hips humping into mine as I pushed back with my butt, my eyes still closed to maintain the illusion of propriety when Cody glanced back.

Lucas' right hand continued to explore my nipples and breasts, but his left hand journeyed back down until his fingers touched the top of my panties, pausing. Waiting for consent.

I took his left hand and guided it inside my panties, onto the trimmed pubic hair. He left his hand there, still waiting for direction. I parted my thighs a little more and guided him to my soaking wet pussy.

I heard him stifle a moan. His hand gingerly slid down my slippery pussy lips, and I reflexively arched forward against the delicious pressure. His hands stopped, one cupping my pubic mound below, one cupping my breast above, like he was either indecisive about doing more, or just inexperienced about how to pleasure a woman like this. I guided his thumb to my clitoris and showed him how to touch it.

Oh god it felt so good inside my body, my nerves thrumming, electrons charging around and stimulating an endorphin rush inside part of my head, flooding me with dopamine and oxytocin. Another part of my head struggled to accept what a naughty bad mom I was being.

My body jolted involuntarily when he slid a finger inside my wet pussy, shoving it deep inside. And, apparently being more skilled about this than he had let on, touched my G-spot.

I fought to maintain control over my facial expression as my hips humped and weaved and embraced the magic presents he was giving me with his touch.

His right hand slipped down my waist and then cupped my ass, gently nudging me up. I raised my buttocks off the seat an inch or so, consenting, and Lucas hooked a thumb on the right side of my panties and tried unsuccessfully to pull them down. I hooked the left side of my panties, and together we pulled them down to my knees. I pressed my thighs together, trapping his finger inside my pussy, and then gravity took over and my panties fell down to my ankles. I freed my feet from the lacy silk, then parted my thighs wider. He took the hint - I was so wet he sunk a second finger inside me at once. I softly moaned.

I felt his hardness nestling deeper inside the cleft of my buns, his bare skin hot against mine.

What the --

I suddenly realized that when I had raised my hips to get my panties off, he had sneakily unzipped and pulled his shorts down, freeing his bare cock.

That was fucking smooth, I thought. This ain't his first rodeo in a back seat. I thought about whispering in his ear to slide his shorts back up.

But, it felt so damn good.

Jesus. What's wrong with me?

My body answered, not a gotdamn thang, my butt muscles clenching against Lucus' stiffness, teasing him. I felt his cock twitch, and I heard his breath catch, a soft "huuh."

"Are you OK?" Cody asked me, glancing at us in the rear view mirror, then his eyes flicked back to the light traffic as he drove through the countryside at 80 MPH or so. I realized I might not have controlled my expression during that internal debate. I froze for a moment, my mind racing. "I'm OK, just a bit stiff in this position." Which technically wasn't a lie, since the 'stiff' part referred to Lucas' hardon. I took the opportunity to twerk my butt under the guise of shifting to a new position, which pressed my son's hardness deeper between my cheeks. Lucas showed his appreciation for this gambit by starting to finger fuck me while his thumb bumped in time to the thrust against my clit.

My husband said, "How much farther 'til you wanna stop for a break? Waco?"

I glanced outside at the road signs, did some quick math despite the mental fuzziness caused by the distraction occurring inside my pussy. Waco was maybe ten minutes away. "I don't want to stop until we go a little further," I said, enjoying the deliberate double entendre. "Maybe stop in that Czech town, West? Eat some kolaches?"

I wasn't sure if anyone else used 'eat some kolaches' to refer to a blowjob, but it seemed like a great euphemism if you lived in Texas. Or Czechoslovakia, though most Czechs would scoff at the blasphemy of calling Pigs In A Blanket 'kolaches'.

"I'd like to go a little further, too," Lucas said, his rumbly voice conveying a hint of amusement at the phrasing, but subtle enough that my husband almost certainly missed it, given his lack of the context. If by 'context' you mean 'getting finger fucked'.

"Sure," Cody said. "I'm OK not stopping yet. Hey, Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you doing with your mom on your lap?"

"No worries, dad. She keeps moving around so it doesn't get uncomfortable."

My husband's eyes resumed scanning the road ahead.

"Speaking of which, mom, could you raise up a bit to relieve the pressure?"

I did. And felt him slide his cock under me, while his fingers slipped out of my pussy and began guiding his manhood. He started rubbing his cockhead back and forth over my well lubricated pussy lips.

No, I thought. Please don't.

My body ignored that debate from the sidelines, my bottom slowly moving in time to his cockhead's journey over my wetness. I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning.

His cockhead slipped a fraction into my pussy lips. Just the tip. Not yet beyond the point of no return.

My legs were getting tired from hovering over his lap.

I need to do something here. Pull out?

Fuck it.

I pressed my hand against his, gently pushing down. Letting him know I wanted him to go deeper in me. He got the idea and pushed up with his hips, getting just the helmet inside.

I relaxed my legs and sat down, and he sunk all the way inside my well lubricated vagina.

"Fuuuck," Lucas whispered in my ear. "Soo good."

"Mmmm." I clenched my vaginal walls and released. I felt his body jolt, as if he'd never had a girl give him that treat.

18-year-old girls, I thought. The fuck do they know about pleasing men?

I looked over at my husband. It was a good thing the painting was blocking his view. I wasn't particularly enamored of dying in a fiery crash, because he got distracted in traffic by seeing his son's cock buried deep in his wife's pussy.