Incest/Taboo The Rambler

I read more, soaking in encounter after encounter, until I butted up against some pages stuck together. No, not stuck. Taped. I banged the book down on Tom's head and showed him the taped pages when he reluctantly pulled his mouth off my tit with an audible, sucking smack.

As he looked at me, groggily, I didn't recriminate him for sucking my breasts or invading the sanctity of my panties. Instead, my eyes pleaded, begging him to remove the tape. I needed to read more. I wasn't just super curious, I was horny as hell. As I looked at my son, he sat up and moved his hand, between my legs like before but now all the way, snug against my mound, cupping his fingers in a firm massaging grip, moving as if trying to squeeze water out of a wet tennis ball.

I should have been outraged, I should have smacked him, but I didn't even look down. I wanted to read more and my eyes must have told the story because Tom kept massaging my panties, pressing his thumb which stretched across the top and curling his fingers to cup my pussy.

Tom nodded at the tape and, with this approval, I removed it and began reading again. I felt my panties sliding up my thighs within seconds, to my knees and over, down my calves. Absently, I lifted my feet so my son could slip my panties over my toes.

I can't say I didn't feel Tom slowly run the tips of his finger along the sole of my foot and then drag his nail up the center of my calf, do a little circle around the back of my knee, and then creep with agonizing slowness down my inner thigh to return to where my panties had been. They paused there for a moment before beginning the first, tentative exploration of their new, unprotected claim. The tiniest little touches, flicks and rubs. For my own sanity, I pushed my nose back into the diary.

I was in the middle of an intense fuck in the Rambler at a drive-in movie when Tom slipped his fingers inside me. Strangely, I felt like part of the story when my son's fingers first pushed into my slit, then slid forward, pushing past my lips and into my wet pinkness. It's just part of the story, I thought, when I felt his knuckles widening my opening.

I offered no resistance when Tom urged my legs wider and his fingers began moving steadily in and out of my pussy. I actually opened my legs more and began twisting my hips to meet his incestuous hand, reading the story, becoming the story. I don't know how long I let Tom finger me. I know I came, at least once, but I didn't return to the real world until I finished the book and then I knew why Tom had taped it shut.

Millie described it so well, looking over Tim's shoulders while he squirted the last dregs of his spend inside her, watching Rick almost falling over the seat as his hips hunched into his mother's face. This affected Millie deeply; she made a special note in her diary, in capital letters: 'I WANT TO BE MARKED TOO.'

Rick had had sex with his mother? In the Rambler? Was that why she wouldn't let him take me out in it? Why she'd kept it all these years?

I dropped the book. I was barely aware of Tom, pulling my legs wide apart and thrusting his stiff undershorts against my soaking pussy hair, vigorously dry-humping me. Well, not so dry. Within a minute I realized his cock was sticking out of his waistband, just before it began spraying his frothy cum all over his stomach and mine as he groaned his way to his first orgasm on his own mother. Rick got his mother's face, Tom got his mother's belly.

This has to stop before it's too late, I thought, as I scraped a palmful of Tom's spunk off my tits.

Thank god, Laura had come to her senses before real harm had been done. A fingering. I could live with that. I had no choice. But not I knew that Laura knew about me and Mom. That's why she's been so difficult the past couple of months. If I'd cum on my own mother, then who else wouldn't I try to have sex with? She must be wondering about that. I turned the page, looking for the next entry, to see if she had forgiven me in her mind. There wasn't any more entries, not yet.

I couldn't sleep. That's my excuse. Lying awake, staring at the dark ceiling and listening to Rick snore, I couldn't get Millie's reference to Rick and his mother out of my mind. That sweet old lady that had looked after her grandson so many times, might have fucked her own son. Had she really, or was it just that one time, a blowjob?

I pointedly didn't think about the afternoon, and Tom, but I convinced myself that I needed to get that next book. I needed to read it tomorrow, to find out. I would demand that Tom give it to me tonight.

Cautiously, I snuck out of bed, easily getting to the door and out without so much as a peep or interrupted snort from my husband. Yes, I admitted. I could have easily slipped on my robe. Without so much as a shrug, I stepped through the door and padded confidently down the carpeted hallway in the darkness.

There was a crack of light showing underneath Tom's door. I opened it and he looked up from reading the diary, smiling, as if he knew I'd come.

"Hi Mom."

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, then stepped toward my son, my hand held out.

"Give it to me," I demanded.

"No," Tom smiled, closing the book and pushing the hand that held it under the covers.

"I mean it. I'm not playing around, Tom."

"I am."

"I want to read it, by myself, tomorrow."

"No way, Mom."

"Yes."

I kneeled on the side of Tom's bed and tried to get my hand under the covers, succeeding easily but several minutes of struggling proved that I wouldn't be able to pry the book from Tom's grip. Flushed and panting from my efforts, I twisted around and sat on Tom's bed. Tom sat up and began fluffing his pillows, setting them vertically against the headboard before leaning back, sitting up, watching me. I ignored him, concentrating on catching my breath, wondering how I could get the book away from him. Tom pulled up on his covers, trying to pull them open but couldn't because I was sitting on them.

"C'mon Mom. Let's read a little tonight," my son said, his voice pacifying.

I shook my head.

"C'mon Mom. You know you want to. I'll let you read the rest tomorrow by yourself if you do."

Tom tugged on the covers and, after a moment, I lifted my weight, allowing him to pull them back. I twisted my back toward him, lifting my feet onto his bed and slipping them beneath his covers.

"Just for a few minutes?"

"Yeah," Tom replied.

"You won't get carried away like this afternoon?" I asked for his self-control, privately doubting my own.

"No way," Tom replied, handing the book to me.

I opened the book and, as I sucked up the first two sentences, Tom's hands pinched my neck, a gentle massaging assurance, then caressed my shoulder and outer arms, pushing the ribbon straps of my nightgown off my shoulders, then down and over my elbows.

"No funny business, Tom," I said, leaning back into the pillows.

"I know," my son acknowledged as I settled into the book, not missing a word as I passed the book from one hand to the other, facilitating his removal of my arms from the straps of my nightgown.

I was deep into the next part of Millie's story but I still felt the rustle and then a thrill as my son tugged the loose front of my nightgown down and away, freeing my breasts. They were already taut, nipples hard, trembling before his gaze. I lifted the book higher, the better for him to see. I turned the page and began reading Millie's description of her conversation with Rick's mom as she twisted around in the Rambler to talk while her son obviously fingered her from behind.

Tom's hand closed over my left tit and squeezed my nipple, released it for a moment, rolled it between his fingers, then tugged it upward, lifting my breast from my chest. He let it fall, then started rolling, squeezing and tugging. I was about to say something when Tom's mouth enveloped my right nipple and sucked it long and hard. I decided to keep reading. I'd already let him do this before. What harm could it do? I let my hand caress the back of his head, my fingers toying with his hair as I concentrated on what Millie had to say.

He fucked her! He fucked her! He took her from behind.

Oh god. Tom's fingers were on me again. Shit! When had he done that? My panties were halfway up my thighs, my legs as open as the stretched panties would allow. Oh god, that felt so good. His fingers were fluttering all around my pussy and dipping, unexpectedly, just a little bit in. Fuck. He was so good at teasing me. There. Now. The little dip. Yesss. Ohhhh and up my slit, opening me, letting my wetness seep out. Oh, yeah. Fluttering, fluttering, dip, slide up my slit, now ... OMG, oh fuck.

Tom had suddeny plunged two fingers deep inside me, right into my pink hole, then shook them like a little vibrator.

"Shhhhh, Mom."

I must have moaned out loud. His fingers pulled out, made a quick circle around my soaked puss, then pushed inside, deep, the thickness of his hand pressing against my pubes, shaking. Ohhhh, jeez.

My panties were at my knees. He must be pulling them off with his other hand. I wasn't reading. My eyes were closed. My legs were pulled back, probably in reaction to his first deep insertion. I couldn't let him take my panties off. They were sliding down my calves, already at my feet. I can't, I can't let him. They were scraping over my toes. I lifted my feet, stretching my toes in futile resistance, trying to hook the waistband of my panties. They were off. I couldn't stop him.

Immediately, my legs opened wide, very wide. I don't know if Tom pulled them apart or I let them fall but I know I reached out to clasp my knees, holding my legs lewdly back, wide open.

"Tom," I murmured.

"I'll let you take the book," he whispered, his lips pinching the tender inside of my thigh, his fingers already making my lower lips scream again.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

God. His thumb was inside me, his fingers stretching down toward my bottom. What was he doing? His mouth was here. He's ... he's ... licking me. OH GOD. Oh god. Oh god. Don't stop. Wigglling thumb. Tongue. Tongue. Tongue. Magic. Lick me. Lick me. Right there. Oh yes, right there. Suck it. Yeah, suck it. Yeah, licking, I know, licking, suck it again. What's your finger doing? Poking me there. Why?. Oh, yeah ... that's it, suck it, suck it, like a little cock, that's it, suck it, suck my woman cock, yeah, ok, your finger, if that's what you want, just keep sucking, yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, yeah, baby, suck, I'm cumming, cumming, cumming, ohhhhhhhhh, gooooodddd!

Jeez, my hips were humping, humping his face, so hard, ... there, again, ohhhhh, goooood, yeah, humping, fucking my son's face, buck, buck.

Finally, nirvana. Relax. Relaxed. I looked down. Tom's head still between my legs, his thumb inside me, his finger ... in my ass. God, that's so weird. No one has ever done that. He's wiggling it. It's so weird. So different. He's licking again, sucking. No, I'm done. ... Where's that from? That tingle, surging, yess, yess, spiking, yess, ohhhhhh, yeah, wiggle, suck, wiggle suck wiggle, suck, ohhhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh.

Now, finally, RELAXED.

Tom. Climbing over me. NO. I closed my legs, clamping tight. I can't, you must understand, son. He's still climbing, straddling my thighs, my stomach, over my chest. Oh, god, he's naked. His cock is pointing right at me, he's holding it, jacking it, leaning forward, no, Tom, I can't, I can't, mmmphhhhhh, no, Tom, mmmmmphhhhhhh, ok, mppphhhh, ok, slow, mppphhhhh, give me a chance, mmmmphhhh, mmmmphhhh, mmmmphhhhh, jeez, in my mouth, c'mon, not my nose, shit, it's in my hair, how am I going clean that before going back to bed, gurrgle, gurgle, I can't hold any more, Ok, on my face, that's it, empty it, mark me, mark me, mark me.
​

* * * * * * *​

The next day I rushed around getting all my chores done so I could reserve the afternoon for reading Millie's diary and nothing else, in my room, alone. I had a bath first, thinking about it, then settled in on my bed wearing my big white, fluffy, terry cloth bathrobe with only my scented body within. Not long after I began reading, my wicked right finger, the long one, crept under my robe to ruffle my pubic hair. But not for long. Soon it was exploring my sensitive nub, dipping lower to retrieve a little natural lubrication to spread around, in tiny, loving circles.

Millie detailed several encounters with her son. She and Tim were fucking like rabbits now, every chance they could get. Millie had long since passed any semblance of reluctance but she did play it up, though briefly, just to tease her son. She confessed that teasing Tim was the most erotic foreplay she had ever experienced and couldn't help wearing the pleated skirts he seemed to like so much. She found many opportunties to open her legs while they were all sitting in the family room to let her son see her naked but nicely trimmed and scented pussy, tripping on the potential danger inherent in a simple twist of her husband's neck. She thrived on the shock on Tim's face and the visibly growing lump in his pants, especially when she lifted both legs from the couch, stretching her legs and curling her toes, perfectly matched with a seductive smile, and sometimes a blown kiss. By the time she snuck out of her room, she had to scurry down to the basement with Tim hard on her heels. He was so worked up the first fuck was inevitably hard and noisy.

Sexy as Mille's record was, I found my mind straying to Tom. I kept wondering if he wanted me as much as that, if he would stay as interested if I actually let him, not that I could ever bring myself to do it. But look what you've done already, Laura, I forced myself to face the facts. You let Tom kiss you down there, put his finger in your dirty place, got him so worked up he came on you. Had I secretly been wanting that ever since I read Millie's description of Rick doing it to his Mom?

I dropped the book beside me, opened my robe and legs wide and used both hands to pleasure myself. My eyes closed, I imagined Tom skipping classes, coming home and finding me like this, legs wide open, hot and wet, loving myself. Wide open. Yeah. My finger moved faster while the other rubbed harder. How would he fuck me? I knew he would. There wouldn't be any choice, not with his libido driving him. He'd have to and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I'd have to let him take me.

I orgasmed soon after that. Tom didn't skip school and he didn't come home. I was both pleased and disappointed. I was properly dressed when Tim and then his father came home. I put the diary under Tom's pillow with a thank you note saying I had finished it, that it had been a special time sharing its secrets but now it was over, our own secret to be cherished for the rest of our lives.

"So you finished it," Rick said as soon as he came in.

I blanched, blood draining from my face as I turned to look at my husband. How did he know? I tried to wipe the guilt from my eyes as I faced him, but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at Tom, both of them with huge grins on their faces.

"When?" Rick asked.

"This afternoon," Tom replied. "Do you want to take it for a spin after supper?"

"Let's go now," Rick replied, excited. He turned to me, "Is that OK, Laura?"

"Sure, sure," I said, shooing them off.

So they went for a ride. They were gone over an hour. When they returned, Rick insisted that Tom take me for a drive the next day to show me what I had missed. Tom was more than pleased, assuring his father that me definitely intended to show me what I had been missing.

So now we're up to date. I had begged off joining my son and wife on the Saturday drive. There things I needed to do.

What ludicrous words I had uttered last night, before I found Laura's diary this morning, and the note with Millie's diary she'd left under Tom's pillow. Now I was waiting for their return. They were gone all day and I couldn't read their faces when they came home. If anything, they acted more normal than they had for the past few weeks. Well, we'd see about that. All I had to do was wait for Laura's next entry in her diary. Probably Sunday or maybe Monday after I had gone to work and Tom to school.

Tom had told me he only had the car for a week and then he had to let the other members of the team use it for a week each so it wouldn't be back for at least three weeks after this one. I figured if something was going to happen, it had to be this week.

It was a lovely day for a drive. I was apprehensive about being alone with Tom in the car where it had all happened for his father but thought the confrontation may be necessary for to find closure, for both of us. I made a nice picnic lunch, including a bottle of merlot to take the edge off, should it be needed. What the hell, I thought, I threw in an extra, just in case.

Tom was the perfect gentleman, taking us for a long drive. I wondered if it was the same place he'd taken his Dad because it would certainly have been memory lane for him, in the country outside his old home town. Tom pulled off onto a windy country lane that climbed a small knoll and curled around to the far side, out of sight of the main road. He pulled off of that in the grass and pointed the Rambler toward the valley below us, a small quaint farm in the distance. It was very picturesque.

I started to get out so we could have our picnic on the knoll behind us but Tom suggested we stay in the car and enjoy the view without the bugs. So we did. As we ate and drank our wine - from plastic beaker, such class - I waited for Tom's plea to revisit our new relationship. I girded myself, resolving to stand fast, but the assault never came. We finished our sandwiches and fruit, and then the bottle of wine. Tom pulled the second bottle out of the basket. Against my better judgement, I let him open it after he promised we would stay put for a couple of hours at least to enjoy the splendid scenery. How often did we get to spend a relaxing afternoon in such a beautiful place, he asked?

I was very relaxed, even a little tipsy, when Tom made his move. He lowered the back of his seat and urged me to do the same, so we could have a little nap and let the effects of the wine melt away. I declined, saying I was quite comfortable the way I was but after a few minutes, I found it awkward sitting upright while Tom reclined next to me, so I relented and set my seat back to his level, lying almost flat. The back of the Rambler's front seat reclined all the way until it was resting on top of the back seat, creating a makeshift bed that was almost but not quite flat. Expecting Tom to make a move, I braced myself for the inevitable confrontation.

"Not sleepy?" Tom asked.

"No," I replied quickly, nerves to jumpy, not enjoying the prospect of a fight with my son. I wished it hadn't been such a nice day. It was too warm to wear a coat, so here I was wearing a sleeveless summer dress and sandals with nothing underneath but bra and panties. At least my dress was modestly cut in front, showing the tops of my breasts but that's all, and the loose skirt fell almost to my knees. Actually, I looked like a mom.

"Want to read a little, then?" Tom asked.

That caught me off guard. "Read?"

"Yeah. I have one of the diaries with me."

A tingle raced down my spine and dissipated slowly through my pelvis.

"I don't think so, Tom. I've read Millie's stories. I wouldn't mind reading them again one day, but by myself."

Tom took a long sip of his wine, craning his head up to avoid spilling. "Suit yourself," he said.

Minutes passed until my curiosity finally got the better of me.

"Do you have one I haven't read?"

"Of Millie's? No you read all of them."

"I didn't quite finish it," I said.

"I'll give it back to you, if you want."

"Ok."

Tom craned his neck and finished his wine, tossing the empty beaker behind him. Clasping his fingers behind his head, he sighed, sounding very relaxed.

I was perplexed. My son wasn't going to cause a scene, taking the news about the end of our special relationship calmly, as if he was already resigned to it, or more accurately, that he wasn't bothered by it.

I felt a weird twinge, one I hadn't felt since I was a young teenager during my first year of dating. It felt like I wasn't the one calling it quits, and I didn't like that. I knew I was, but he should be upset, and he wasn't. He's a libidinous teenager, I reasoned, recovering my pride, he must be faking it.

"Tom?"

"I don't have that one with me," Tom said, assuming I was asking about Millie's diary, but I had already forgotten about the diary. Had he not found it under his pillow with the note?

"Didn't you get it with my note?" I asked, suddenly nervous again.

"Yes, I got them," Tom answered. "They're still there."

"Then?" I said, inquisitively, providing the opportunity for him to let loose, to tell me how much he wanted to go further, and for me to deny him, for our own good and that of our family. I braced myself for the emotional onslaught I knew would now be forthcoming.

"I thought you'd like to see one of the new ones, so I brought one along," Tom's new information floored me. It was like an unexploded bomb had landed, sizzling between us.

"One of the new ones?"

"Yeah. One of Gran's."

KABOOM!

"One of Gran's?"

"Yeah," Tom turned on his side to face me, lying closer. "Do you want to read it?"

There was a long pause. "Yes," I said breathlessly.

"Turn around then," Tom instructed.

My whole body was tingling. Feeling suddenly meek, I turned around onto my side, facing away from my son. I could hear him fumbling behind me.

"Close your eyes," he said.

As soon as I did, his his passed over me and rested on mine.

Tom didn't say anything, so I opened my eyes to find a small red diary, red like my own instead of black like Millie's.

"Read it," Tom suggested.

I opened the book and began reading, to myself, flipping through entry after entry of mundane stuff until I encountered Mary's misgivings about her son's sudden interest in her, similar to those felt by Millie about Tim. Her misgivings were followed many entries later by a subtle shift in attitude, to one where Mary was piqued by Rick's interest, even flattered.

Considering her son's lust to be a temporary phase, Mary confided that she couldn't help having some fun while it lasted and began engaging in actions she knew would heighten the experience for both of them. She wore clothing she knew would catch her son's attention, walked and sat in ways that would emphasize her legs, and wore soft sweaters that would capture Rick's eyes. The more she play acted, the more she scolded herself, and the more she played the more she enjoyed the feel of Rick's eyes on her body. She became addicted to her son's lustful attention.

And then, Rick said Tim's mom had suggested they go to the drive-in with their sons. Bull as it turned out, but neither Mary nor Millie knew that.

As I read about the first 'date' from Mary's perspective, Tom removed my sandals. I had tucked my legs back on the seat.

"You shouldn't put your shoes on the seat," he admonished me, slipping my sandals from my feet. He didn't explain why his hands needed to stay on my legs, brushing up and down, his fingers scratching along my calves, nor did he offer any reason why his upper hand eventually slipped around my knee and under my dress, caressing the top of my left thigh.

Mary was describing what transpired at home between the first and second drive-in excursions when Tom pulled me closer to him. His leg hand was now caressing the top of my thigh from knee to hip under my dress. Stop him, a little voice whispered in my head. Tom's other hand was tickling my neck, so platonic, so nice. It wasn't until I finished Mary's description of Rick's manipulation under her skirt as the lay on her stomach talking to Millie that I realized that my dress was unzipped and the back of my bra unsnapped. How could I be so focused not to feel myself being undressed?

His fingers finally dug inside my panties, Mary wrote. I was lost again. Dimly, I was aware of Tom pushing my dress up and over my hips, shoving my left hip forward, tipping me onto my stomach. I accommodated his efforts, my sole concern keeping the diary where I could read it easily.

Tom moved in close; he was reading over my shoulder. Mary's description of Rick's surprisingly masterful manipulation of her secret lips was making me very wet. I felt Tom's fingers behind me, scraping up my inner thighs until they were rubbing underneath my panties, in the damp part between my pussy and my ass. When had I opened my legs to beckon him so blatantly? I knew I had. He rubbed with more and more friction as I read until, suddenly, there was none. His fingers had slipped through the leg, inside my panties. His other hand slid under my dress, outside my lower leg and up my waist, curling around to my tummy and then up to palm my right tit, flattened against the seat. My stiff nipple was firmly grasped between Tom's fingers, squeezing hard. I bit my lip as my son's lips began nibbling my neck.

Put your fingers in me, Mary wrote. The thought echoed in my mind. Put your fingers in me, son. As if he could read my mind, Tom's fingers slipped inside me again. Mary's description of the way Rick fingered her was matched exactly by my own son's invasion of my cunt. He was reading along with me; we were playing roles: Rick and Mary, Tom and Laura. I opened my legs wider, welcoming his fingers, knowing the squishing sound was implicit in Mary's writing. I was lost.

Tom's hand was moving aggressively inside me, pulling out and banging in with a twist. I loved it, as I did the fingers roughly squeezing my tit. It was as if he was fucking me with a big stick, trying to get more and more inside me. Suddenly, he pulled out and grabbed my panties, pulling my hips up, then dragging my panties down over my thighs to my knees. I stayed up, shamelessly presenting my backside with wide open legs, my pussy literally dripping.

I moaned out loud as soon as I heard Tom unbuckling his belt and groaned when his jeans were shoved roughly over his hips. I twisted my head, leaning on my forehead to look under myself, instantly mesmerized by my son's dangling weapon positioning itself behind me. Am I really going to do this? Mary did, she gave herself to her son. Why shouldn't I?

I was still pondering when Tom's cock pushed into my slit. I was watching all along but I guess you can see something and not think about it at the same time, so it surprised me. Now he was through my slit, spreading me. God, he felt so good. It wasn't that he was bigger than Rick, though we may well be, it was the tensile strengh his youthful pole vibrated into my clasping muscle, singing I'm here and I love it. It sang so vibrantly, passionately bursting forth and just as arduously withdrawing, pausing for the chorus to chime in, then thundering through the hall again.

I struggled to help him fit me perfectly like I'd never done before. I had never put such effort into being fucked. Sweat poured down my face, over my forehead into my hair and onto the seat. I dug my toes into the floor to push my ass wantonly up to meet my son, begging him to drill me down to the seat, grind me with exhuberance, and pull back for another onslaught, my trembling ass cheeks following him up to ready my hole for the next attack.

He filled my pussy with his spend, and then some. It overflowed, dripping down my legs. Exhausted, Tom collapsed on the seat, sweating as profusely as I.

I'm proud to say that it was me, and all my years of exercise, that recovered first. Tom was still gasping for breath, his still cock wavering in the air above his lap, when I straddled him and lowered myself, enveloping his manly member, my cuntlips struggling to scrape down his tired shaft. I felt like my tonsils had been given a tickle when our pubic hair mingled. He was definitely a little bigger than his father. I began fucking him, lifting and letting myself fall with a bang, pulling his head to my tits, shoving my long nipple into his mouth, grinding his face on my chest. Nipple to nipple, again and again, over and over, until his semen seeped into me again, the excess once more spilling down the inside of my legs. He certainly manufactured a lot of cream.

By the time Tom felt ready for another one, it was too late in the day. He tried to convince me, telling me that later in the diary, Gran described an afternoon right here in this spot, that is, the hill behind us, when Tim and Rick had fucked their mothers from behind as they lay over the removed backseat of the Rambler.

"Another time," I told him. "You can't do it all in one day."

Tom smiled, "But it has to be this week. I have to give the car to the other guys for a week each. That was the deal for their help."

"Just the car, right?" I asked.

"And the diaries too. They saw them."

I started to argue but Tom stopped me, "Only the ones about Millie and Tim, not the ones that mention Dad."

I was satisfied. It wasn't until we were on the way home that the implication dawned on me.

"Your friends are going to try to do their moms, aren't they? That's what you've been whispering about for weeks."

Tom turned to me and smiled wickedly, "Yes."

I nodded, digesting this delicious information. I knew all these women, had known them for years.

"Will you tell me everything you find out?" I grinned at my son.

"Of course," he grinned back, dropping his hand from the wheel to grip me firmly between my legs. "Then you can write it down and read it while we ... fuck."

I pulled my son's hand tighter against my reviving pussy, "Don't talk like that."

Despite my protest, his talk made me tingle again. He slipped his finger inside me, wiggling as he drove and talked, whispering to me how he thought his friends would approach the seduction and capture of their moms, my friends. I came again on the long drive home.

But it was such a long drive. I stretched out for a nap, my head lying in my son's lap. In the darkness, I unzipped his jeans and pulled his healthy young cock into my mouth, bobbing and weaving, he loved it all, even when I scraped my teeth down his shaft. Perhaps he loved that most of all because as soon as I did it he burst inside my mouth, rocketing the last of his jiz into my throat.

I lay quietly the rest of the way while Tom caressed my neck and shoulders. I thought about how Tim and Millie had fucked like rabbits, everywhere they could. I wondered if it would it be like that for us now.

I was angry reading Laura's diary the following week but when I finished, my cock was in my hand and I was masturbating. I too wanted to hear about what happened with the other moms. Even through my anger, I realized a certain balance to it all. Anyway, how could I confront them without bringing it all out into the open. None of us wanted that.​