The Perfect Storm

January 20, 2015

If you put me in an interrogation room with good cop/bad cop I still couldn’t tell you how I let this happen. It was Christmas and I was driving up to Vancouver with my son, Brett, on our way to meet up with my husband, Brett’s dad, Jerry. I have an old VW Bug – you know, like Herbie – and it’s pretty dependable. Except we got caught in a blizzard and I couldn’t see a thing with all the snow falling. So I pulled over to see if I could figure out if we were on the right road. Brett’s pretty good at map reading for a 13-year-old boy, and he’s usually my co-driver on our journeys. He kept telling me we were on the right road, so once he showed me on the map where we were it was just a matter of keeping going. But that was the problem. We were in snow two feet thick and still falling heavily. We couldn’t get any grip on the road, well, because there was no longer any road, just snow and ice. We slid this way and that and then just stopped. That was it, we weren’t going anywhere.


The road we were on was just empty of other traffic, so we were on our own. And between the mountains and the blizzard there was just no signal on either of our cell phones. We sat there and I started to fill up with tears.


“It’s okay, Mom,” said Brett, “just keep the motor running. I’m gonna dig a trench to make sure the tail pipe doesn’t get covered with snow and we end up gassing ourselves.” And like a boy scout he was out digging and returned all flushed and sweaty, covered in snow.


“You’d better get those wet clothes off. The sweat will cool and make you colder.” I think I’d seen that on some survival show.


As Brett stripped down I really noticed for the first time exactly how much he had grown and developed in the last year or so. His torso was taut, I noticed a four pack threatening to become a six pack, beautifully squared shoulders and finely shaped biceps and forearms. Even his legs, usually scrawny in boys in their early teens, were muscular and shapely from all the long distance track he did. And I couldn’t help noticing the bulge in his boxers. Nice size for thirteen, I remember thinking.


Well, he changed sure enough. We had plenty of clothes with us. We also had sleeping bags because we would have been in Jerry’s boss’s log cabin and we knew it could get cold up there despite a roaring log fire. Nothing was coming up the road. The radio was just screeching and squealing, so I left the heater on with the engine running. Night was drawing in and I knew it would be getting a lot colder.


As the darkness descended I turned to Brett finally and said, “We had better sleep together on the back seat, to conserve body heat.” Brett understood entirely, he’s a very level headed boy, but I could see he was a little uncomfortable with the idea.


I climbed over onto the back seat first, and Brett climbed over after me. We zipped two sleeping bags together and both awkwardly got into it. I’m still about a foot taller than Brett, so I lay down first up against the back seat. Then he lay down in front of me and I held him close, and we managed to get Jerry’s sleeping bag over us both. We were snug and warm, for now. I switched off the light and we settled down to a night in pitch darkness.


After a couple of hours I finally fell asleep, and Brett seemed very still, so I guessed he was asleep too. I woke to Brett groaning in his sleep. But not only that, my arm around his waist I was stroking what was undeniably his rock hard boner. I stopped immediately. Oh My God! I must have been dreaming I was with Jerry. I felt Brett’s hand on mine urging me to continue my ministrations. I didn’t know what to do, but feeling his hardness started to make me feeling horny too. I could always deny that I was awake, if it came to it. It was half true anyway.


Feeling naughty, guilty, and immensely erotic, I traced the outline of his rock hard love tool through his jeans. I felt it up and down and I felt him urge himself into my hand. The poor boy was having an erotic nightmare and I was the cause of his pain. I knew I could make this all go away for him, and I knew how, but my heart was pounding with fear, like it was the first penis I had ever touched. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn’t. But the more he pushed his hardness into my hand the less my restraint was holding, until finally I could stand it no longer. I traced up to his zipper and gently pulled it down. With just a little rummaging through his soft cotton boxers I found the fly and reached in to pull his penis out of his jeans.


I now had a handful of my son’s throbbing meat. It was so hot. I couldn’t help the feeling of pleasure and longing I felt deep down inside me. In all honestly, I wanted that hot rod inside me, but I knew that was wrong. No, I would just relieve my son’s night lust and we would both go back to sleep. I began to stroke him up and down, gently, feeling the soft veiny skin slip along the hard rigid pole inside. It was beautiful, and for thirteen he was not badly endowed, filling my fist and then some.


He moaned in his sleep and I kissed his neck as I started to feel up and down his rod with increasing regularity. He squirmed with the pleasure I was giving him and I felt his hips give a firm thrust forward. I realized he needed to come soon and I started to wank him in earnest. He moaned and I felt his hand feeling my hip as he reached back over me. I was shocked that his teenage fumbling turned me on so much, but I loved him clawing at my ass cheek and thigh. I could feel the fire in my pussy and my lips wet with excitement as I crushed into his hip.


I heard his breathing getting shallower and I knew that he was close to coming. I sped up my jerking and in a deep groan I felt him let loose several ropes of thick gooey come, pulsing through my palm and bursting out into the sleeping bag, and he was done!


I was still holding him as my logical head interrupted. What if he woke up on the cum? What if he realized what had happened? There was no way of getting him back into his pants, he was still hard,  but I could do something about the come. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a Kleenex I had used earlier to wipe the windshield. I searched around in the darkness and found the wet globules of pearl jam and I soaked them up best I could. I tossed the Kleenex and wondered what to do next. He could still wake up on the wet spot!


I had not felt this excited since I was 17 and Jerry and I did it with his parents in the next room! I knew I had to swap places with my son, so I gently eased over him, only minorly disturbing his perfect rest. He half looked at me and then closed his eyes once more. Now I was in the wet spot. I could smell the strong bleach smell of teenage boy cum wafting up my nostrils from the heat below, and I couldn’t resist. I rubbed my fingers in it and brought them to nose, inhaling deeply before licking my finger tips and tasting my own son’s seed!


That’s when I realized that Brett’s boner was now pressed firmly into the butt-crack of my own jeans. Oh no. I reached behind me and there it was, as solid and soft as ever, insistent upon my ass cheeks. And here’s where it all went horribly wrong, because I was so turned on it was unreal. I unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped them, feeling inside my now soaking wet panties to tease my aching pussy. But I couldn’t reach properly, and it was torture!


Very, very slowly, I hooked my thumbs into the waist band of my jeans and panties, and raising my knees I pushed them down my legs to gather at my ankles. I could now feel my son’s erection pressing between my bare ass cheeks and it was too much! I opened my legs as wide as the sleeping bag would allow and started to rub my pussy with more passion than I can remember. I was so turned on; I was a slurry of juices below, between the silken purse. But he was so close!


I reached around, and held him in my hand again. And this time I ran his teenage glans up and down the crack of my ass. Instinctively he thrust forward, partially pressing into my cheeks. I could stand it no longer, and I pushed him underneath me so he pressed hard up against the lips of my pussy. I gently rolled along his shaft, coating it with my lucid sheen. And then the Devil coached my lust and I pressed his helmet to my juicy hole. He needed no second invitation, and together I pressed onto him and he pushed into me. It felt like Heaven!


He started to move instantly, and I coaxed and coached his rhythm as he held my hip and started to bump his groin into my soft firm ass. He seemed to grow even bigger inside me as he built up to ramming speed. His hand moved up to my breast and I unbuttoned enough to stuff his hand inside and feel my naked breast, itself pulsing fiery torment, nipples so hard and sensitive that every touch gave me more thrills.


We were fucking! There were no two ways about it! My son was fucking me! – And it was so hot I just started cumming and cumming. I stifled a shriek each time I gripped his pistoning tool, until finally I felt him try to ram it so far up me I thought it was going to come out of my mouth! He stopped suddenly, gripping me as he held deep inside me and I felt him pumping one, two, three, four shots of hot jelly inside my sopping slot.


I breathed out slowly, trying to catch my breath. “What do I do now?” – I remember thinking. But then I heard the most erotic words I’ve ever heard in my entire life. “Mom, that was amazing!” Soft, solid spoken words at full volume – in my son’s voice. I didn’t know what to say. My son’s rock solid cock was still inside my swimming pussy. I gripped his cock inside – I have excellent control – just to let him know I had heard him.


I was on the verge of apologizing and begging his forgiveness, when I closed my eyes and felt what my body was telling me. I leaned forward a little and then eased myself off his rigid tool. He was almost all the way out, when my heart fluttered with the next step, and I pushed back onto him. He filled me up again and I felt his hand on my ass as he pushed me forward and off him.


“Oh my goodness! Have I gone too far?” I thought. I could feel him fumbling with his clothes behind me. Was he getting dressed? But then I felt his wet cockhead nudging my butt cheeks and pushing under to easily enter my lucid peach, and when he was fully inside me I could feel the bare skin of his thighs and torso as he pressed close. We both struggled to get me out of my remaining clothes, and then we made love again.


We made love all night. I looked into my little boy’s eyes as I pushed myself down, enveloping his boyhood with my womanhood, his childhood with my motherhood. Deep, to the hilt, his rigid tool and my dripping fire. I watched his face as he thrust his meat down into me, dripping sweat down from his sweet young face. And I watched the blissful release as he came inside me and collapsed on top of me, mingling with my breasts, his face pressed into them as he regained his breath, toying with my nipples absent-mindedly with a curious finger or his errant tongue. His pubescent ardour was a breath of fresh air. And his young male sexuality was unleashed in the back on a Volkswagen Bug in a blizzard. And every time we got cold we would just do it again. It was the best sex I had ever had.


The blizzard subsided and we watched the sun come up over the hills. We got dressed just in time to be rescued by a snow plough that pulled the car out of the ice and we followed him the next thirty miles, just smiling at each other, sometimes laughing at what had just happened. When we got to Vancouver we went back to Mom and Son. My husband knows nothing about it, but with him away a lot I can’t help thinking I won’t be quite so lonely from now on. It’s wrong, of course, but that’s what makes it so right.


The End.


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