Over the years of I've enjoyed a number of Literotica stories in which a mother and son become sexually involved after circumstances force the former to sit on the latter's lap during a long car ride, Mom Takes A Ride by NakdSalr and Sitting on My Son's Lap by retired04 among them. (No slight is intended to the many other fine such stories I fail to mention here). This is my first contribution to the genre and my first aunt - nephew story, another story-line I've been wanting to try.
The women are based on two friends of mine, the events a complete invention.
As always, all story characters involved in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.
* * * *
"I didn't realize how small it was."
The "it" was my truck, a Toyota Tacoma. The speaker, my new bother-in-law, Patrick. He was wealthy and I guess when he'd heard I had a pick-up truck he'd assumed it would be top-of-the-line. But I was not wealthy. I was 26, a full time X-Ray technician, and a part time personal trainer. I preferred the latter, but I was just getting started and a girl needs to make a living.
My sister Jasmine, fourteen years older than me (there's an intervening brother and sister), has just escaped a bad marriage to a decided loser and swearing not to make the same mistake twice, traded on her looks and targeted Patrick, who was twenty years her elder, very conservative, quite well-off, and as far as I could tell a perfectly nice man. He had, however, either forgotten or never known how most of us lived.
The plan was for the five of us - me, Patrick, Jasmine, her son Andrew, and his live-in girl friend Magda - to spend a week at a house Patrick owned on a lake in Northern Arizona. It was a sort of get-to-know-you gathering; Patrick and Jasmine's courtship had been intense and short; we learned about the marriage by e-mail. However, Patrick and Jasmine's arrival had been delayed by last minute hic-ups in a subdivision deal he was closing. For this reason Andrew, Magda, and I, who had arrived at the cabin two days before, had driven back to Flagstaff to meet Patrick and Jasmine at the airport. What we hadn't counted on was that Patrick had shipped a number of items for the house, including several original works of art which could "most definitely not ride in the bed of a truck." And while we could fit them in the back seat, they left very little room.
* * * *
As I said, Patrick was a conservative man and had been adamant that Magda and Andrew would not sleep together while under his roof, explaining that I, as the adult, was responsible for making sure they did not until he arrived. Personally, I could give a shit; I had nothing against pre-marital sex and had just ended a three year relationship held together, at the end, only by the anticipation of the great make-up sex after each fight, but to my surprise Magda and Andrew did not put up a fuss. Madga agreed to share a ground floor bedroom with me; Andrew slept in another bedroom down the hall. The second floor master bedroom, the one with the porch overlooking the lake, was verboten to visitors.
On the first day at the lake there Magda and Andrew boarded a canoe to explore. I sat on the deck with my Kindle. Occasionally I'd look up, but they'd disappeared. After awhile, a little curious and a bit worried, I fetched some binoculars and scanned the lake, finally spying the canoe, obscured by a few trees, pulled ashore a small island. I also found Magda and Andrew, naked on a blanket, lying next to each other, looking very happy. Little doubt what they'd been doing and the rule was no sex in the house; Patrick has said nothing about islands. I put the binoculars down, but kept glancing at the island and curiosity finally got the best of me. I picked up the binoculars and found Magda sitting astride Andrew, happily bouncing up and done on his fully recovered penis. I knew I shouldn't spy, but it'd been awhile. Watching, I slipped a hand inside my shorts and brought myself off.
And the next morning, when they announced they were going exploring, I did it again, this time with a more powerful pair of binoculars.
* * * *
At my instigation we had left for Flagstaff several hours early; I wanted to hit a gym; there was no weight room on the lake. Magda and Andrew worked out on treadmills, Andrew jogging and Magda walking. When done I checked the flight schedules, Patrick and Jasmine's flight was going to be an hour late; we had time to kill. Magda suggested a steam. Sounded great.
* * * *
Madga and I stripped, grabbed some towels, and I followed her to the steam room, looking at her, thinking that two women could hardly look less alike. I'm petite; four feet ten inches tall and 93 nicely muscled pounds which include (I will immodestly add) quite a substantial pair of breasts. My skin is pale, my eyes blue, and my features, except for a long narrow nose that evenly divides my face, small. Madga was of Palestinian descent. While far from fat, she was a much bigger woman than I, five feet nine inches tall, curvy, with substantial arms, legs, and torso. Her eyes were a dark intense brown, her skin olive, and her facial features large and pronounced, big mouth, thick heavy lips, big eyes, and a flat wide nose. Her hair, unlike my neat bob, was thick and black and curvy and poured off her head like a waterfall. She was not a classic beauty, but there was something exotic and sexy about her.
I had liked her from the moment we'd met. Hands-on, she made pottery, cooked, kept an extensive and verdant vegetable garden; she was also uninhibited, funny, raunchy, smart, and had a laugh that occupied her entire body. This was the first time I'd gotten to talk to her alone and our conversation was free flowing, touching on our history, recent beaus, hopes for the future. Madga was studying child psychology with the ambition of becoming an expert in adoption. As to her history, while she was not all that specific, I was left with the impression that it was a bit wilder than mine. I'd seen her make love twice, I believed her.
After the steam room we showered. I put on a light blue dress - short, sleeveless, buttons up the front - perfect for the heat. Madga pulled some jeans over her shapely butt and donned a white tank top. We met Andrew, wearing baggy shorts and a tee-shirt, outside.
* * * *
So back to our story: we were at the airport and we had a problem. It was my truck and I knew I should drive, but my newly dignified sister and her fully dignified husband were not going to consent to be crammed in the back seat. I proposed that Patrick drive, he knew the way, and that Jasmine sit up front with him; that left the back seat for the three of us.
We stared at the narrow space. Finally, I said it, "I'll sit on Andrew's lap."
"I can do it," Madga said.
"No, it makes the most sense for me. I'm the smallest."
No one could argue with that logic.
Jasmine said, "If you get uncomfortable we can stop and you can stretch your legs."
Patrick did not seem entirely comfortable with that, he did not seem a stopping-kind-of-guy, but nodded his agreement and we took off. It was already late, the sky black.
As we pulled out of the small airport I moved around on Andrew's lap, found a comfortable position, turned to Andrew, "How ya doin'?"
