How many times had my mother and I had sex in the last two days? I was losing count. Maybe it was too much, maybe it was unrealistic to expect that a person could keep going like that, a man OR a woman, even though last night we definitely had.
For sure I was exhausted, and my cock felt raw with overuse ... but after we'd finished fucking and cuddled up together, naked, in the bed, I started getting hard again. I couldn't help it.
But Mom had put the kibosh on further fun tonight (or rather, this morning) and said I'd just have to sleep with it like that if it didn't go down by itself, she was closing up shop for the night. She fell asleep literally a few seconds after saying that, which tells you how tired she was .... It took me a little longer, and I stayed hard, but eventually I drifted away. And so did my erection.
When I awoke the sun was shining through the hotel curtains and I could hear someone moving around in the bathroom. The clock said 12:27 --- in the AFTERNOON?? --- I had slept for TEN HOURS??? It seemed so.
I looked over at Mom's side of the bed, and both suitcases were there, open and apparently packed. The room was tidied up (my mother was the only person I'd ever met who cleaned her hotel room for the cleaning lady), and there was an empty cup of coffee on the nightstand. She'd been busy.
She came out of the bedroom, holding her spray bottle and a sponge. She was dressed in her standard daytime outfit of dark slacks and light-colored blouse, although I noticed one extra button on the blouse was undone, affording a slightly better view of cleavage. For Mom, that was risquΓ©.
When she saw I was awake she smiled and came over and sat on the bed next to me. For a moment I felt a wave of trepidation that her attitude might have shifted again and she'd want to pretend nothing had happened.
"Good morning, my sleepy knight in shining armor," she said, and leaned down to kiss me.
"Good afternoon," I said, filled with relief. I gestured to the clock. "Sorry I slept so late."
She shrugged. "We're okay. We have a late checkout ... you've got time to take a shower."
"Have you had one already?" I asked, and my imagination started rolling footage on the two of us in the shower together, and of course my cock started to wake up, too.
"Yep, showered and shaved and ready to shove off any time. We should get into Chicago this afternoon, or maybe dinnertime. I'm excited, I haven't been there for twenty years, at least."
I sat up, trying to hide the growing tent at my midsection. "Okay, I'll hop in the shower and we'll get on the road. I'm excited too," I added, although I probably didn't mean what she meant.
Honestly, as far as I was concerned, Chicago could fall into a giant sinkhole and Mom and I could stay in this hotel room for the next three days and just screw our brains out. That would be a perfect vacation, to me. There were SO MANY places just in this room we could have sex: bent over the table, in the chair, on the floor, up against the window, in front of the full-length mirror by the door ... and, of course, in the shower ...
"Are you going to get up and take a shower?" Mom asked, stroking my arm and inadvertently adding to my dilemma.
"Yep, here I go," I said. Pause. "Um, excuse me."
"Oh. Of course." Mom stood up to get out of my way and while her back was turned I scooted out of bed and made a break for the bathroom, but I wasn't quick enough.
"Oh my LORD," she said. "Was it like that all NIGHT?"
I stopped, standing there naked with a giant hardon pointing at her and shrugged my shoulders. "No, I don't think so. It just ... happens."
"Well I guess it DOES," she said, her voice full of reproach but her eyes locked on it.
We stood there silently for a minute, her gazing at my cock and me gazing at the rising and falling globes of flesh under her blouse, and finally I cleared my throat and asked, "Do you, uh ... want to help me with this? In the shower, maybe?"
She looked up at me, then down at IT, then towards the bathroom, and seemed to be leaning heavily in that direction ... but then she shook her head and said, "Nope, we can't. We have to get going. If we're not out of here by one we have to pay for another day."
"Would that be so terrible?" I asked, but I knew her mind was made up. I got some underpants and clothes out of my suitcase and plodded away, full of frustration and wondering how many hours, how many minutes, how many seconds, until I could bury myself in my mother's sweet pussy again.
#
So we loaded up the car, filled the car with gas, stopped quickly at a drive-thru for breakfast/lunch, then got on the interstate. We hadn't gone one mile before my cock started to stir again as I remembered everything we'd done in the car the day before.
Mom insisted on driving today, which meant a blowjob was probably out of the question, but I saw no reason why I couldn't pull my pants down and scoot over next to her and she could give me a little hand. Her breasts bounced and swayed appealingly, practically resting in her lap as she sat there. It made me swoon with desire. My mother was a mammorial marvel, a miracle with massive maternal milkers. I pointed to my crotch and wiggled my eyebrows.
She shook her head. "NO. We're going to be good today. No hanky-panky until we get to Chicago."
"But WHY?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, the pressure in my jeans increasing.
"Because I said so, and that's how it's going to be. Period."
"Can I at least take it out and give it some room?" I asked.
Deep breath. "No. Not this time. Keep it in your pants. It'll go away."
"But it hurts," I pleaded.