ACROSS AMAERICA------LONG VERSION free porn video

We almost never started our two and a half thousand mile trip because Mom wasn't looking when she pulled onto I-40 coming out of Wilmington and a double-trailer semi almost side-swiped us. With the semi's horn blaring Mom swerved right, the 1975 Chrysler Town and Country fishtailing. We were running out of road fast, and even though she braked hard the brakes on the car were shit. The final part of the semi roared past and I reached over and turned the wheel, because Mom was like a rabbit in headlights as the end of the filter lane came up.

"You want me to drive, Mom?" I asked.

She shook her head, blonde curls whipping across her face as she shook it too hard. She was pale. "I can drive my own son to San Diego."

"All the way?" I teased.

She shot me a glance, color returning to her face. "You can take over when we stop for gas. And I'm a good driver. Never had a single accident."

That was true, but I couldn't remember the last time she drove any distance. Didn't have to; living in the small house in Devon Park she walked most places she needed to go. All that walking maintained her figure in a way her driver friends envied.

I leaned over and glanced at the fuel gauge. We were almost empty. Typical Mom. Anyone else would have filled the tank before starting a cross-country trip. It wasn't as if she didn't know we were setting out, but that was Mom, never with any plan, almost as if planning for something might make it not happen. Shows what she knows. I believe she'd been planning this trip in her head ever since she made the mistake of marrying Hank. Mistake rectified now, Hank was fish-food somewhere out in the South China Sea. Not even my real dad, Mom had always encouraged me to call him Hank and not Dad or Pop. I hardly missed him. Hell, I'd hardly ever seen him, he was always off somewhere, more than he had to be. And he wasn't a lovable man. Not even a likable man.

My real dad was also been Navy, also lost at sea, but at least he had gone down fighting in some meaningless skirmish out east, gone at twenty-two, leaving a twenty year old girl with a three year old k**. Me. Sometimes I thought I remembered him, odd scraps of memory floating to the surface, but more often I knew I didn't.

"We'd better pull over sooner rather than later, looking at that gauge," I said.

Mom laughed. "Oh, that doesn't work worth a crock of shit, Joe. There's a quarter tank left yet."

I sat back in my seat, slipped off my boots and put my stockinged feet on the dash. Mom glanced over but said nothing, concentrating on the road now it was too late, the faded station wagon - yellow over brown over rust - holding a steady fifty-five. I think. The needle on the speedometer had a habit of hunting fifteen miles an hour either side of true, wavering up and down.

Five minutes later as a sign for a stop came up Mom was intending to drive past but the engine misfired, caught again, misfired one more time.

"A quarter tank?" I said.

"I haven't driven this thing in years, Joe, how am I supposed to know?" She eased us into the exit lane and we coughed our way to the pumps. I climbed out, fed gas into the endless tank, stopped at $30 which was stupid because we'd have to fill up again anyway but money was tight and I couldn't bring myself to top us all the way up.

Mom got out and rested her hand on my waist just above my jeans. "I'm gonna go pee, Joe. You want anything?" Typical Mom again. We were twenty minutes down the road and she hadn't thought to pee before we left home. Make that ex-home.

"I'm fine," I said, watching as she made her way to the restroom. She looked young enough to be my sister rather than my Mom. Short, pretty, stacked up top but narrow across the ass, I'd always considered her the sexiest woman in the world. Not beautiful, but pretty, which in my book was even better. My experience with beautiful girls only made me believe they thought a whole lot too much of themselves.

Still only thirty-five Mom received a lot of attention after Hank died -- a lot, I think, before he died -- but she had other plans. After Hank went missing she discovered he had taken some complicated advance on his pension so there was no money coming in, and the house in Wilmington had two mortgages outstanding. Mom's younger sister Sarah lived in San Diego, all the way across the country from Wilmington, and Aunt Sarah had said she would love Mom to come and stay with her. She could even fix her up with a job. Mom handed the house keys over to the bank -- actually, slipped them through the door while they were closed for lunch -- and we hit the road.

We were supposed to leave early, but I knew Mom wouldn't get her act together in time for the planned start, so it was mid-afternoon before we left town and almost immediately got creamed on the interstate. We were meant to pack the night before but had lounged around, making the most of our last night in the house, drinking a bottle of white, laughing at old memories. In the morning we packed the cardboard boxes holding Mom's few belongings into the back of the station wagon. I tossed my small tote bag in and, more gently, the hard case holding my Martin OM-1 which Mom had bought for my fifteenth birthday. It replaced the cheap Guild I'd had since eleven. I hadn't asked for it, but Mom said she couldn't stand to see me playing a piece of shit guitar so well. I had no clue how she'd gotten the money together to buy it but that guitar was my pride and joy.

I removed the hose and waited as Mom came out the restroom and went inside to pay. When she came out she slipped into the other side of the car and I smiled and got behind the wheel. I had some news of my own, but didn't want to give her any more pain just yet. The pension and mortgages weren't the only things Dad hadn't paid. I'd had a letter a month before saying my Navy scholarship was being pulled. I'd either have to pay my own way for my last two years of college or quit. I knew this wasn't any kind of choice at all, didn't yet know exactly how to break it to Mom.

I had $20 in my jeans pocket. After I'd come down on the bus the day before I helped Mom search the entire house. We upended sofas and chairs, I wriggled my hand down the back and side of every piece of furniture in the house. Mom opened every jar and pot she might have hidden some cash away in. We had sat late last night counting it, her entire worldly stash coming to $742.36 - $45.98 was in coins we'd managed to recover from down inside the furniture, so I guess Hank hadn't left her completely penniless. I worked out we'd use most of the money filling the car with gas on our journey across America. The old Town and Country wasn't what you might call environmentally friendly. It drank more than Dean Martin at a night in Vegas.

Mom called me when Hank died but I told her I didn't want to go to the service. She said fine, she wasn't going either. That didn't surprise me. Why and how she'd put up with him all this time I don't know. When my real Dad died Hank took her under his wing. I think Mom was grateful, and Hank wanted a ready-made family and some regular sex when he was on shore leave, but he was an outright pain in the ass.

Fifteen years Mom's senior, Hank was authoritarian, pig-headed and so far up his own ass it was the only thing kept his hair brown. He'd tried to raise me as a Navy k** and I hated the idea, left home as soon as I could. I wouldn't miss him -- in fact, I was glad he'd gone. I was pretty sure Mom wasn't going to miss him much either.

That first night we pulled of I-40 just past Winston-Salem and drove into woods away from sight. Mom went into the trees to pee again and then I did the same. She had made sandwiches for us before leaving and we'd eaten a few on the way, still had some left and I wolfed a couple down while Mom nibbled at a half.

The Chrysler was one of those cars that appear to be about two hundred feet long, half of it hood, but when we pushed Mom's few belongings packed into cardboard boxes to one side and I slipped my guitar in front and rolled out a double camping mattress there was only just about enough space for both of us to stretch out. Mom's five foot three fitted easily. My six-one not quite, legs bent at the knees, feet pushing against the tailgate.

Mom changed out of her clothes and got under a thin blanket while I walked out into the trees to give her some privacy. When I returned I turned my back and pulled my sneakers and socks and jeans off and rolled them up and placed them on the front seat, climbed in the back door and slid under the sheet. I hadn't slept this close to Mom in years, and the presence of her barely clothed body so close to mine was uncomfortable. Mom didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, talking about how excited she was to be going to Aunt Sarah's. Sarah was four years younger than Mom, and I hadn't seen her in five years. Last time we went to visit I was deep in the throes of raging puberty and spent most of my time jacking off to fantasies about my Aunt. Mom and Sarah were two of the most gorgeous creatures in the world. To my mind anyway. Not that I'd ever jacked off thinking about Mom. Well, not as much as I had thinking about Aunt Sarah. Like I said, raging puberty -- it wasn't my fault!

It was hot in the car, a humid August night and after a while Mom sat up, reached over and opened the window her side. Then she reached over and wound down the one on mine. I lay rigidly on my back, trying to ignore her swaying breasts encased in a white lace bra inches from my face. Mom had always been the same, didn't seem to have any personal inhibitions about her body.

It was better with the windows down, a breeze blowing through, but the cicadas were still loud.

Mom tossed and turned a while, every now and then nudging against me. Her arm, a thigh, her ass when she rolled onto her side, a breast when she rolled the other way. I lay still, trying to ignore my erection and pretend it was nothing at all to do with her. Somehow, finally, I managed to sleep.

I woke to gray light filling the unshaded windows, a painful erection, and Mom snuggled tight against me, her arm d****d over my stomach, me scared if she moved she might brush against my cock straining inside my shorts. I rolled away so my back was to her, but she mumbled and cuddled even closer, her arm wrapping back around me and I suppressed a groan because her hand was so damn close. I wasn't sure sure, but I think if she touched my cock I'd come there and then. She felt good pressed against me, belly to my back, her thigh over mine, her hand just above my navel, breasts flattened on my back. I lay rigid, scared if I moved my cock would jerk free and slap against her hand.

I lay that way for an hour until she woke, bleary and happy and rolled away from me as though realizing what she'd been doing. I pretended to be asleep while she clambered out the back and pulled on her skirt and t-shirt from the day before. I'm sure the smell of my arousal must have filled the car, and my shorts were damp where I'd leaked pre-cum all over them.

I waited for her to go pee then pulled on my jeans. When she came back she kissed my cheek and hugged me, saying she'd slept better in the back of the car than she had for years. I went to pee too and we set off, me driving. Mom hadn't mentioned driving again since I took over, and I was happy to do the whole journey if she needed me to.

The Town and Country ate gas like it was still 1975, the tank giving us only 250 miles, so before long we stopped at a service station again and both of us used the restroom to wash. I stripped off and wiped myself down, wiped my cock and balls still heavy from my earlier arousal.

That night we repeated the same moves, pulling off the interstate somewhere past Nashville and driving down smaller and smaller roads until we found somewhere we wouldn't be disturbed and parked up. There was still light in the sky by the time we'd eaten the bread and cheese we'd bought in a market, and Mom asked me to play her something.

She sat on the grass leaning against a tree, knees drawn up almost showing her panties and I tried not to look. It was hard not to look. Her legs were slim and shapely, thighs hollowed at the top where the short skirt showed a view along them. She leaned forward, arms around her knees, breasts flattened against her legs, and she was surely the most perfect creature that ever existed, pink sunlight catching in the blonde curls framing her face.

I busied myself tuning up, started in on an old delta blues I'd learned years ago, trying for the authentic sound and failing to find it in my head. I was the wrong color, age and background to get anywhere near, but Mom smiled and watched my fingers fly and clapped each tune I played. When I stopped after forty minutes she said, "We ought to drive back to Nashville, Joe. You're good enough to be in the Grand ol Opry, you surely are."

"That was blues, Mom," I said.

"I know what it was."

"They play country in Nashville."

"You could do country-blues. Like that guy you played me. The one you like."

"John Hiatt?" I said.

"Like him."

"That'll be the day," I said. "If I ever write a song half as good as John Hiatt I'll try for a record contract."

"Good." Mom nodded like it was a done deal. She got up and brushed her skirt down. I studied her, unable not to, noticing her nipples showed through her top and wondered what the hell she was so happy about. Maybe the music had done something to her. Maybe I'd need to play less around her.

I was sitting on the lowered tailgate and she leaned past and offered me a chunk of bread, some cheese and a slice of sausage, sat beside me and we ate our supper out in the open while the air thickened around us, cicadas singing their own kind of blues. I wondered how long they'd be with us, exactly where we might lose our little friends on the route across.

When it was time to bed down I wandered off again but Mom shouted after me.

"You don't have to go all prissy on me, Joe. You've seen me naked before, come on back."

"I've not seen you naked since I was ten," I said, but I stopped and turned around. If Mom didn't mind I wasn't going to deny myself the please of watching her undress.

"I've not changed too much since then," she said, "so I guess no surprises, eh?"

She pulled her blouse over her head, revealing a considerable white bra. It probably needed to be, the weight it had to support. Mom had always been big up top. I've no idea how big, I know nothing about cup sizes or measurements. But she was big. I tried remembering how her breasts looked naked, from the last time we shared a bath, and couldn't. They obviously didn't have quite the same memorable effect on me back then as now.

Mom unclipped her skirt and stepped from it, folded it carefully and leaned into the car to place it in a box. Bending forward her panties drew into the cleft of her ass, their round, firm cheeks good enough to eat.

She turned back and grinned. "Joe, do you mind if I take this off as well?" She snapped the strap of her bra, making a sharp slapping sound against her skin. "I was so damn uncomfortable last night. These things are not made for sleeping in."

"I guess," I said.

"I knew you'd understand." She reached back and unclipped herself, shucked her shoulders forward. For a moment the bra clung to her breasts and she had to tug it free. I knew how it felt. If I was that close to perfection I wouldn't want to let go either. Mom tossed the bra in back with her clothes, the movement setting her breasts swaying. I tore my gaze away, not wanting her to catch me staring.

Mom climbed in through the open tailgate and I went around the side and removed my boots and socks and jeans again, pulled my t-shirt over my head. I had been so hot the previous night I wanted to remove as much as possible.

I climbed in back after Mom, trying to half turn away so she wouldn't see the erection ridging my shorts. I drew the sheet down to my waist and rolled on my side facing the window. Mom moved too, pressing against my back, her breasts flattening against my skin, her nipples painfully obvious.

She kissed my neck and said, "You're the best son any Mom could have, Joe, and I love you more than anything in the world."

She lay there, skin against mine, and I knew I was in for another sleepless night, except the driving and the night before must have taken their toll because within ten minutes I was gone.

When I woke Mom was wrapped against me, snoring softly. I lay on my back and my cock had worked loose above the waist of my shorts, the head leaking against my belly. Mom's hand was inches from the tip and I lay rigid, not sure what to do. I felt as though I was on the verge of coming, and that couldn't happen. Mom's naked breasts pressed into my side, one either side of my ribcage. The blanket had slipped down and I saw one orb clearly in the gray morning light. Her nipple was pale, as pale as the aureole surrounding it, engorged a little and as I lay there she made whimpering sounds and moved her hips against me as though she too was aroused. She pressed her mound against my hip and I was sure I felt dampness. I moved, snuffling as though still asleep. Mom half woke and seemed to realize our predicament and turned away so we were ass to ass, but that was almost as bad, her firm round cheeks pressed to my skinny butt.

I worked my cock back inside my shorts, worried I was going to have to jack off when we stopped to wash because she was driving me crazy.

Each day as we drove we talked about all kinds of things. She told me more about my real dad, asked me about girlfriends and I told her some and she teased me, just like a girl, laughing and grinning. She wore one short dress after another, and when I drove, which was most of the time, put her bare feet up on the dash, showing off her slim legs. Her dress tended to keep slipping up and showing too much thigh and she was always pushing it back down, but in a jokey way as though she didn't really mind me looking. One time, east of Jackson, I almost rear-ended a truck because I was staring at her legs and she said "eyes on the road, buster," but laughed.

Near midday we came off I-40 straight into downtown Memphis. We needed to find somewhere to wash up. I felt grubby, having nothing more than a wipe down in three days, and I'm sure Mom must have felt the same way.

"We need to find somewhere we can grab a shower or something," I said as we circled the city streets.

"We can't afford to spend any money, Joe," Mom said. "We've barely enough for gas as it is."

"Don't worry," I said. "I've got a plan."

I drove around the center a while, eventually finding somewhere to park up, a disused lot where two shady looking guys took $5 off us. I figured maybe they hoisted some of the cars, but I felt safe they would ignore the Town and Country. I grabbed my guitar case out the back and Mom followed as we walked to Beale Street. I'd never been in this city before, but I'd busked plenty of places and knew the ropes. I found a good spot between the exit to a Mall and a small park where people were gathering to eat their lunch. Tourists milled along the street, wide-eyed, sated on Graceland and the blues coming from bars further down. I took my Martin out and laid the hard case open in front of me, begged some change from Mom and s**ttered $20 worth inside, added a ten note of my own to make it look like someone had been generous. I slung the strap around my neck, tuned up and swung into a raw blues. I knew I could play, knew I had a good voice, a rasp back under the words that added at least some authenticity. Mom sat on a low wall and watched, enchanted and enchanting. I sang to her, to no-one else, and after a while drew a small crowd. I received applause between songs and pretty soon dimes and quarters and even some bills were getting tossed into the case.


I played for two hours, stopped when I saw a cop come sauntering up the street. He had seen me, made his way in our direction. I picked up the money from the guitar case as the crowd faded away, not because of the cop but because I'd stopped playing. Mom came over and I handed her the handful of change and notes and she shoved them in her bag, knelt beside me and scooped up the rest. Neither of us had washed properly in three days but to me she smelled wonderful, earthy and musky, and my head span because I wanted her in a way a son wasn't meant to want his Mom, but I couldn't help my feelings. I'd have to keep them well hidden was all.

The cop stopped, not looking too fierce.

"I don't guess you got a permit for playing, do you?"

I stood, shaking my head. "We were passing through. Needed some money to eat."

He looked from me to Mom, back at me.

"College k**?"

I nodded.

"Your girl?"

I was about to say no when Mom slipped her arm through mine and said, "Yeah, his girl. We're trying to get to California."

"You know I ought to take you in for playing this way, don't'cha?"

I nodded, used to the routine. If I tried to protest he'd get pissed and make an issue of it. If I played meek he'd probably grow bored and let me off with a warning. I had no intention of playing anymore in Memphis. We had enough for a motel room tonight, and that was all I needed.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Where I come from it's usually OK."

"Where's that then?" he said.

"Baltimore."

"College k**?" he said again, as though I hadn't already told him.

I nodded again.

"My k** too. Goes to NYU. Man, it costs an arm and a leg."

"You got it right there."

He sighed, scratched his neck, and I knew we were good.

"s**t," he said. "I never seen ya."

I laid the Martin in the case and closed it up. Mom slipped her arm through mine.

"And k**."

We stopped. I turned back.

"You play real good. I like that Robert Johnson song, you caught that great."

I smiled, nodded. "Thanks, man."

"Scoot. Have a great time in California. I only wish I was still young and free and in love like you two."

I lifted a hand and Mom blew him a kiss and we walked back to find the two gangsta's sitting on the low wall surrounding the lot playing chess on a battered board with a mix of pieces. As we drove back out and onto the interstate Mom emptied the money from her bag into her lap, counted it out. There was a lot of change, but a fair s**ttering of fives, tens, and even a twenty.

"How much did we get?" I asked, glancing over, admiring her legs and berating myself. I had to stop thinking about Mom this way.

"Hundred and sixty-five and a bit. There's a ton of small change here, probably another ten or twenty dollars." She lifted her skirt and emptied everything back into her bag, scooted across and kissed me on the side of the mouth. "You did well, boyfriend." She laughed and I joined in, excited to have pulled it off, excited that she'd kissed me the way she just had, not like a Mom kiss at all, more like a girlfriend-boyfriend kiss. She was a flake, I knew, always had been, but I didn't want her to be any other way.

We pulled off in Palestine, drove through to the far side, further from the interstate, drove a little further until we came to a motel opposite a cluster of edge of town facilities. I parked up and went into the tiny office. Mom refused to go in, not wanting them to know we were sharing a room.

"They might think it's weird, a Mom and her nineteen year old son sharing."

They might think it weird?

The desk guy gave me a key to a double, and when I asked if they had any twin rooms he raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "Doubles is all we ever get asked for, buddy."

Ah well, I thought, it would still be a whole lot more space than we had in the back of the station wagon.

As we carried a change of clothes in together with our dirty stuff I told Mom she could take first shower. I lay on the bed, surfing channels on the TV. I hadn't watched television for over a year but nothing much seemed to have changed. New faces on American Idol, but I wasn't sure I could tell them from last year's.

Mom was an age getting clean, and I guessed she was washing her underthings, same as I planned when it was my turn. When the bathroom door opened I glanced across and almost gasped. She came out wrapped in only a white towel, pulled tight and tucked into itself between her breasts. The towel was big, but even so it barely covered her ass when she walked to the dresser. When she sat, it didn't cover her ass.

"Shower's all yours, boyfriend." She shot me a glance over her shoulder.

"Careful what you say lady, dressed that way."

She raised an eyebrow and winked. Impressive. Her grin though was pure Mom, wicked and willful and I got up and went into the bathroom. It was hot and steamy and smelled of shampoo and soap and Mom. When I stripped out my clothes my did and I stroked it once, shivering. There was no lock on the bathroom door. No way was I going to risk Mom catching me jacking off. I piled dirty underwear into the sink and ran it full of hot water, shook one of the little bottles of shampoo in there and gave everything a swirl around, left it to soak. I turned the shower on and stepped under. The water felt wonderful. I soaped up, washed my hair, soaped the stubble on my cheeks and stepped out to get the razor from my bathroom bag but it wasn't there. When I looked around I saw it resting on the little shelf stuck to the tiles in the shower. Mom must have been shaving her pits. I stepped back under and used the wet, misted mirror inside the shower and shaved myself.

When I was clean I stayed under the water a while longer enjoying the luxury. I saw why Mom had been so long in here. Finally I turned the water off and stepped out, dried myself and rinsed my underwear and hung it over the towel rain. Mom's panties were already strung up, tiny slips of pink and blue and red edged with lace. Just standing there looking at them my cock started to fill again and I turned away, angry with myself.

I pulled on my last clean pair of shorts and went into the bedroom to find Mom asleep on the bed. The towel had pulled loose revealing her breasts. I stared at her, taking in her beauty, entranced. She might be thirty-five, but I saw how people might take us as for couple because she didn't look it. She could be in her twenties, and the way she acted often made her seem way younger than her true age.

Mom scissored her legs in her sleep and I watched, waiting for her to reveal her pussy, but instead she made a groan and woke, fuzzy, smiling to find me stood at the foot of the bed in only my white boxer shorts. For a moment she didn't move, then slowly she drew the towel back over her breasts.

"Oops. Sorry, Joe. Guess I gave you a little burlesque show there didn't I? Sorry if I embarrassed you." She didn't appear in the least concerned.

"It's okay, Mom, I enjoyed the view."

She grinned and rolled off the bed, slapped me on my belly as she went past into the bathroom to dress. As she passed through the door she deliberately let the towel drop and I stared at her naked back and ass. She gave a little wiggle and looked back at me, grinning.

"There you go, you get see the other side as well." She laughed loudly, voice husky, and closed the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed, worrying about how I was starting to feel about her. She had always been Mom. Just Mom. Sure, as I got older I started looking at her as a woman, copping the odd glance when I had a chance. She was an attractive woman. A very attractive woman, and she deserved a whole lot better than to have a perverted son harboring i*****l fantasies about her when he jacked off. I knew she deserved better, but lived with the guilt, incapable of not thinking of her that way.

When she came out I'd dressed in a clean white shirt and black jeans. Mom looked stunning in a short skirt and satin top. She had done something to her hair, putting it up so her neckline and jaw were on show, applied a little makeup and lipstick. She saw me looking and gave a strange smile, came across. She reached up and put her hands on my face, holding me, lifted up on her toes and kissed me full on the mouth. Not for long, but it sure as hell didn't feel much like a Mom kind of kiss.

"Come on boyfriend, let's go eat. I'm ready to kill a burger and fries."

We walked to the diner on the other side of the road, ate junk food and drank milkshake and I laughed at Mom's milk mustache. Walking back she put her arm through mine and I saw our reflection in a shop front. She could be in her twenties, not her thirties, long slim legs and those big boobs with hardly any sag in them -- even without a bra, I know that now -- and we looked like we really could be a couple.

Back in the room I let Mom use the bathroom first then get ready for bed while I went to brush my teeth. When I came out she was sitting up watching TV with the covers pulled over her breasts, but it was obvious she'd taken her bra off again. I was in shorts. I slipped under the covers and we both watched a show.

"God, but TV's so... boring these days." I'd nearly said so fucking boring, stopped myself in time. I knew Mom cussed with the best, but it would have felt odd to swear in front of her.

Mom laughed, said, "If we could afford it we could watch some porn."

"Mom!" I sounded shocked and she laughed even more. The cover slipped down and showed a nipple and she pulled it up only slowly.

"What, you telling me you've never watched porn? Never ever ever?"

"Well..."

She laughed again. "Go on, tell me what you watched."

"Mom," I said again.

"I'll tell if you will." She was in a strange mood, high on life or the journey, her eyes sparkling and a flush on her cheeks. I could feel the heat emanating from her, smell the scent of soap and shampoo and... something else, something I recognized and chose to ignore.

"Go on then. Dare you," I said.

"Don't dare me, Joe. You don't know I might do it."

"Tell me then, Mom, when did you first watch porn?" I was hard again, the thin cover barely hiding my arousal.

"I was a few years older than you are now. Late starter, I guess. Not with Hank or Ricky. Me and Sarah. I used to go stay with her when Hank was on tour and we'd go down to the store and rent a dirty movie and-" Mom stopped suddenly, and I wondered what she had been about to say.

"Aunt Sarah's into porn as well?"

Mom slapped me back handed, dislodging the sheet. She didn't seem to notice her right nipple was revealed. "What d'you mean, as well? I'll have you know I was an upstanding married woman. It was that slutty young sister of mine led me astray. Your turn now."

"Not yet. You haven't told me what you watched." I tried hard not to look at her breast. I wondered how her nipple would feel against my tongue, how hard it would grow, guilt warring with want.

"Sarah watched all kinds."

"But not you, huh? Did you keep your eyes closed then?"

She laughed. "No, I didn't."

"Did you enjoy it, Mom?"

She was quiet a moment, noticed her display and pulled the cover back. Damn.

"I guess I did."

"Aunt Sarah too?"

Mom chuckled. "Oh, Sarah loved it. Really loved it. She's got a whole shelf of hard-core. Maybe if you ask nice when we get there she'll let you watch some. All kinds of porn, she's got."

I couldn't believe it. Mom's sister was four years her junior and always looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. My imagination was running riot, picturing Mom and Aunt Sarah sitting together watching porn, probably getting worked up, maybe even jilling off side by side. My cock was aching like it had never ached before, the heat of Mom's body next to mine not helping one little bit.

She said, "Look away a minute, Joe?"

I turned my head, watched in the mirror above the dresser as she sat up straight and arranged the pillows behind her. The cover fell to her waist, breasts swaying as she arranged the bedding. Then she sat up and pulled the covers over herself.

"You can turn back now. Okay, your turn. When did you watch porn?"

"At college. In the dorm. There's plenty stuff floating around."

"Did it turn you on?"

"Sure, some of it."

"Some of it?" She smiled. "What kind of things turn you on, Joe?"

"Is this an appropriate conversation to be having with your son, Mom?"

Her smiled turned into a grin and she shook her head. "Probably not, but I feel a liberated woman. That bastard's finally gone and I'm on the road with the man I love most in the whole world and I don't care about appropriate anymore." She slid across and hugged herself against me and the cover went again and her breasts pressed into my side and I sat there rigid and waited for her to move back but she didn't. Mom said, "Am I freaking you out talking like this?"

I shook my head, neck muscles tense. "You're not freaking me, Mom. It's just... a little weird is all."

"We've always been best friends haven't we?"

"Sure."

"I wouldn't want to make this trip with anyone else. I'm loving every single minute of it." She snuggled closer. "Give your Mom a hug, why don't'cha."

I lifted my arm and she came in close, leaning against me and I hesitated, not sure where to put my hand, finally resting it on her shoulder. She smelled good from the shower, her body pressed tight against my side, left arm wrapped over my bare stomach, skin to skin everywhere and she half turned and her belly pressed against my hip and a leg came over my thigh and I realized she wasn't wearing any panties either, and that the junction of her thighs was smooth and hairless. Oh shit, I thought, oh double to God shit.

"You wanna watch some porn? I'm sure you got enough cash left to pay for a film if you want."

"Don't, Mom."

"You can if you want. I won't mind. I'd like to watch some myself. Go on, do it, let's watch people having sex."

"This is wrong, Mom."

She wriggled against me. "I know. But I don't really care. Do you?"

I didn't say anything, not knowing what to say, then weakly came out with, "I don't think we should."

She sighed. "No, I guess you're right. I am your Mom after all, and I'd only traumatize you if I started frigging myself." She giggled, sounding like a teenager. Hell, feeling like a teenager under my arm.

"No you wouldn't," I said.

"I wouldn't? You sure you don't wanna watch some?"

"I'm sure."

She chuckled, not sounding like a teenager anymore. "Does it shock you knowing your Mom brings herself off?"

"No," I said, and she laughed again, hearing the stiffness in my voice.

"I bet you jack off all the time. I know I couldn't get enough of doing myself when I was your age. I guess that's where you came from. I never could say no to a good lookin' fella."

I honestly couldn't think of a single answer for her that wouldn't make me feel bad so instead I reached for the remote and turned the TV off.

"I guess you're tired," she said. "And I'm being wicked teasing you. Ready for sleep?"

I nodded. "I guess." Not ready at all. Ready to get my raging cock out in front of Mom and stroke myself more like. Ready to watch her finger her shaved pussy in front of me. Ready for... well, ready for whatever she offered. Three days on the road and I was lost, smitten, besotted, infatuated and obsessed.

"G'night Joe" she said, turning my face to hers and kissing me on the mouth again, longer than before, with more heat and passion. I resisted the urge to raise my hand and cup her breast, knowing that wasn't what she wanted. I didn't think that was what she wanted. That couldn't be what she wanted. This was only Mom free after sixteen years to be herself, reveling in the chance to be young again.

I broke the clinch before she did, rolled over and turned off the lamp. Mom rolled the other way, putting space between us and I felt myself relax. What the fuck?

sleep eluded me. The clock radio on the nightstand showed the wrong time but I'd worked out it was three and a half hours slow, so at ten-thirty I was still awake. At eleven I was starting to doze when I felt the bed shiver. I lay on my back, trying to ignore the ache in my cock. I was starting to get used to it now, achieving some kind of accommodation with my constant arousal. The bed shivered again, shaking a little more, a rhythmic movement as Mom started to jill herself.

She must have thought I was asleep. God, sure she must have thought I was asleep.

The bed shook gently, Mom trying to keep her movement to a minimum, but her breathing came faster and after a minute she kicked the covers down on her side to let air touch her skin. Orange light came in through the thin d****s and in its glow I saw her breasts shimmer and shake. Her hand was down beneath her thighs, barely masked by the covers gathered there. Sounds came now, wet liquid sounds as her fingers dipped into herself. Her free hand rolled her breasts, pulled at her nipples. Her eyes were closed, offering me permission to view her without fear of discovery. I ached to stroke my cock and couldn't, knowing I would erupt instantly. Mom might want to make herself come, but I bet she sure as hell didn't want her son soaking the bed with his ejaculate. I dreaded to think how much cum I might deposit. My balls felt huge and potent, my cock a steel rod lying flat against my belly, poking up above the waist of my shorts. Mom had come to bed naked but I couldn't do that. The scent of her came to me, rich and redolent, promising a taste I wanted to experience on my tongue. I pretended to move in my sleep, kicking my legs so the sheet slid down further and she lay revealed, one long leg lying clear, the junction of her thighs exposed, her hand cupped there, fingers disappearing inside, and I saw she truly had shaved herself there, not her armpits but between her legs, and I wondered what in hell that meant.

Mom stopped when I moved the covers, waiting to see if I was waking. I snuffled and rolled onto my side, eyes heavily lidded. Mom's were wide open now, staring at me, and I breathed heavily and mumbled. Three minutes passed while I tried to keep my breathing even, then she started moving her fingers again. Her eyes closed once more and I opened mine wider. She was beautiful. Her breasts were large and mobile, the nipples now hard as bullets and almost as long. Her belly pinched in at the waist as she clenched her muscles. Her left leg rose, bent at the knee, and her fingers dipped in and out of her soaking pussy, the scent and sound making it hard for me to lie still. The bed shook, shook harder as she sped up, her climax getting close.

Her breath came in gasps, and I think even if she knew I was awake she couldn't have stopped now. She muttered, head rocking slowly from side to side, words gradually emerging, a barely coherent stream of consciousness.

"Yes... there, do it there... uh... oh fuck yes, like that... no, use your tongue... no, you can't, oh god no you can't fuck me, you can't... oh god yes, like that, fuck me like that... oh god no, you can't... you can't..." Her voice rose in pitch and the bed shook violently. How she thought I could sleep through it I had no idea. Maybe she didn't care, beyond caring now.

She lifted her knees, arching her back as the pleasure took her, hand pushed deep between her legs as though she was trying to force an entire fist inside. She gave a whimpering cry, another, then slowly her knees dropped and she straightened her legs. Her breathing stayed heavy for a minute and then she rolled onto her side. I lidded my eyes, feigning sleep. Mom gazed at me, reached out and touched my chest with her fingers, still wet from where they had been inside her. She ran her hand down my belly, stopped and looked. My cock still jutted free of my shorts and I realized she would see how hard I was, how wet my glans had become. She moved her hand down, almost touching the head of my cock, stopped.
Do it, I thought, jack me off, please jack me off! I wanted her to touch me so much I almost grabbed her hand myself and put it around me.

She sighed, withdrew her hand and rolled away from me. I was desperate to grip myself and cum, desperate to shoot a huge load onto my belly, but instead I rolled onto my side away from her. The clock read twelve-thirty and I knew I had to get some sleep for the drive tomorrow. We were not even half way across America and needed to make faster progress. Definitely needed to make faster progress if I wasn't going to end up fucking my own mother.

When I opened my eyes it was three-forty-five and the orange neon glow had been replaced by the gray of dawn. I rolled over to find Mom gone, lay on my back and heard the shower running. I'd take another one as well before we left, might even risk being caught. If I didn't jack off soon I felt my head might just collapse from all the blood rushing to my cock.

The shower stopped. I heard Mom peeing. She didn't flush, perhaps not wanting to wake me. The bathroom door opened and she stepped through, naked apart from a towel wrapped around her head. My eyes were lidded -- I was becoming an expert at spying on Mom now -- as I watched her pad to the dresser, sit and pull the towel from her head. She combed her hair, shook it. A dryer sat in a holder to one side of the dresser but I guess she didn't want to disturb me.

I mumbled and rolled over.

Mom looked over her shoulder at me, the sight breaking my heart, her long slim back with a dip along her spine tapering out above her round ass flattened on the chair, the profile of a pendulous breast tipped with a sweet pink nipple, the tautness of the skin along her side.

I washed a hand across my face and sat up. Mom made no move to cover herself.

"What's the time, Joe?" she asked. "I can't work that damn clock out at all."

I rolled my head, added three and a half and said, "God, it's eight-thirty. We should be on the road by now."

"There's no rush," she said. "I don't mind if this trip lasts for ever. I'm loving every single moment."

I smiled, staring into her eyes. "Me too. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log. You? You seemed out every time I looked."

"Crashed soundly," I said, hoping she'd believe the lie.

"Good." Her smile took on what seemed a sad edge. "You want a shower?"

"You want to get dressed first?"

She looked down at herself as if only now realizing she was sitting bare-ass naked in front of her nineteen year old son.

"Shocked?" she asked.

"Guess not," I said.

"Good. That's how it's meant to be between us."

It is?

"Go get your shower and I'll get dressed. We can call in the super-mart next to the interstate and get food for today.

Despite our good intentions, Mom's usual lack of urgency meant it was gone ten before we checked out and hit the interstate. I drove while Mom put her feet up and leaned back, her window wound down allowing a warm breeze to blow through her hair. She looked happy and radiant, at complete ease with the world.

I'd been hoping to get six or seven hundred miles covered before we stopped, but Mom's clunky old Town and Country had other ideas. I drove at a steady sixty because every time I tried to ease the speed higher the front wheels started to shimmy like a belly dancer's hips and it was all I could do to stay on the road. When Mom drove she kept to fifty-five, still remembering the old speed limits.

Somewhere still east of Oklahoma city the engine started making odd clunking sounds and every now and then the sound became a grating.

"That doesn't sound good," I said.

"You know anything about cars?"

"A bit. Hank liked to teach me, remember?"

"I guess he was good for something then." The bitterness remained in her voice. "You'll have been a good student too."

"He didn't allow for any other kind." I remembered him yelling whenever I got anything wrong. He'd been a hard, cruel man, but had instilled into me how an engine worked. Pulling apart cars was the only time I ever saw him content. "Get the map out, let's see where we are." We hadn't needed it much so far, following I-40 all the way across. The plan was to follow the interstate all the way to Los Angeles before cutting south to San Diego.

Mom unfolded the map, winding her window up as it fluttered and creased.

"Where was the last place we passed?" she asked.

"There was a sign for Okemah at the last exit."

Mom traced her finger across the map, tongue sticking out a little, and in spite of worrying about the car I knew I was falling in love with her in a completely different way to how I already loved her, knew I was in danger of making a total fool out of myself.

"Have we only come that far, Joe? I thought we'd be half way there by now."

"We've been going slow," I said. "Besides, you told me this morning when you were sitting stark naked you wanted the trip to take forever."

"Girl's prerogative to change her mind," Mom said.

"Is Aunt Sarah expecting us any particular time?"

Mom shook her head. "I said I'd call when we were close. She's got nothing planned. What day is it today?"

"Uh... Tuesday, I think." It had been as if we existed within a bubble since leaving Wilmington, one day merging with the next.

"It would be nice to get there for the weekend."

"Sure." I tried not to smile. The car gave another loud clunk.

"That really doesn't sound good. Got it, we're here." She peered at the map. "How long since we passed that last exit?"

"Five minutes, no more."

"We're coming up on a place called Shawnee -- ain't that romantic sounding, Joe? Let's pull off there and see what the damage is."

The clunking came again and I felt the steering jerk in my hands.

"We need a breaker's yard. This feels terminal."

"You can't sell my car!"

I laughed. "I don't plan to. They'll have a steering rod. I think that's what's working loose. We won't be able to afford a garage or a new unit, but a breakers might have one."

We only just made it. Turning off the interstate and onto county roads made the banging worse, and turning left and right became problematic, so much so that eventually I could only turn right. Mom shouted and pointed off to the side where a sign said Pete's Car Breakers, a pile of old vehicles stacked ten high behind a wire fence. It lay on the left hand side of the road, of course. I drove past, turned right at the next junction, then right and right again until we managed to pull up in front of a wooden office. The mandatory mad dog barked wildly as I climbed out and a whip-thin man in overalls and an incongruous Ferrari peaked cap came out. Long greasy hair was caught back in a ponytail.

"Hush now, Bart," he said to the dog, the barking instantly stilled, then, "He'p you?" to me.

"I'm looking for a steering rod. I think the front left's about to throw."

The man walked around the car, nodded at Mom sitting inside, her arm through the open window.

"Chrysler Town and Country," he said, nodding. "Seventy-three to seventy-eight, this model. But the rods fitted from seventy-one to eight-four as I recall. I think we got a couple of these beauties in back somewhere. You'll have to take the rod off yourself if'n you don't wanna pay me to do the job."

"Money's pretty tight," I said.

He nodded. "Figured that. Fine old car though. Had one just like her myself. Till she threw a rod." He cackled. I liked him. "Lemme take you through back, see if we can't find one of these babies. Your missus can sit inside if she wants. There's coke in the cooler. On the house, long as she don't drink me dry."

"She's-" I started to say she's not my wife and stopped. I guess I looked older than nineteen, and Mom sure looked younger than thirty-five. "What about the dog?"

"Bart won't do no harm now he knows you're friends. Just don't try to pet him none."

Mom climbed out and gave the dog a wide berth, went inside, came out a moment later with a bottle of coke and sat on the step.

The man led me off down a narrow alley between stacked cars. Most of them were old, but mixed in were a few modern cars that had been in accidents.

"I'm Joe, by the way," I said, offering my hand.

The man looked down at it, turned his over, showing the oil stains on it. "I'm Pete, but you might not wanna shake."

I took his hand anyway. "Way I figure, I'm gonna get messy in a minute anyway."

Pete laughed and nodded. "Guess so."

We found three Chrysler Town and Countries. The first had lost most of its front end in a head on collision, but the other two were fine. One was a seventy-three, the other an eighty-two, but as Pete said the running gear was the same.

"You might wanna replace both units. Often you change one it puts a strain on the other."

"How much?" I asked.

"You doin' the work yourself?"

I nodded.

"You know how?"

I nodded again.

Pete rubbed the two day stubble on his cheeks. "Where you folks headed?"

"San Diego. My-" I stopped myself again. "We're going to stay with Kate's sister." It felt odd calling Mom by her name, but something didn't want me to let on we were mother and son.

"Got a fair ways to cover yet then. How's forty bucks sound, for both rods? Make it fifty and I'll let you use my lift and tools."

Fifty dollars was a big slice of our money, but the alternative was even more expensive buses or trains, and we had no chance of carrying all Mom's stuff on a bus. Besides, I still had well over half my ill-gotten gains from Memphis.

I put my hand out again and we shook on it. I could always do some more busking along the way.

Pete took me back and showed me where the tools were, came back around with a crane on wheels and lifted the Chrysler clear of the others.

"You want her belly up, son?" He didn't wait for my answer, expertly flicking the rusty station wagon onto its roof so I could get at the steering rods more easily. I set to getting them off. Some of the bolts were rusted on pretty hard, but Pete's toolkit contained WD 40 and oilcans and some hefty wrenches and an hour later I had two good steering rods. I carried them back to the hut where Pete had brought a couple of plastic chairs out and sat talking with Mom. The dog sat at his feet and he scratched its ear, the dog's back leg lifting in spasm as Pete found a particular spot. I was dirty and sweating and Mom gave me a sympathetic look. Pete went inside and brought me a coke and I drank it before using the jack to lift the front of Mom's car. It took another hour to get the steering rods off, one more before I had the new ones installed, greased up and tightened. By now the afternoon was bleeding away, color touching the western clouds.

I started the car up and drove out the yard, gunned her up the road and took a hard left, the soft suspension complaining and the tires squealing. The steering felt fine, better than it had for years. I took a couple more turns, left and right, pleased with how the old car felt. I pulled into the breaker's yard and handed Pete fifty bucks. He stared at it, nodded, slipped it into his coverall pocket.

"You two need a place to stay tonight? There's a cheap motel past mile 200."

"We're gonna sleep in the car," I said.

"Savin' your cash. Good thinking. In that case, come off at the junction after next and hang a right. There's a big old lake that way. You'll find somewhere quiet to bed down around there." He stuck his hand out, now cleaner than mine. "Good luck to you both. Makes a man feel good to see a couple'a young uns so obviously mad in love. Takes me back some, does that." He dipped inside the hut, came back out with a tube of hand degreaser. "Also on the house. Take care now."

I shook his hand again and Mom kissed him on his stubbled cheek and he flushed bright red. He was still standing outside waving as we turned out the yard and returned to the interstate.

We'd gone six or seven miles when Mom laughed and leaned over, gave me a big wet kiss on the side of my mouth.

"What was that for?"

"Well, as we're so obviously mad in love, I thought my clever mechanic husband deserved a big kiss."

We had a little trouble locating the lake. It was down a narrow track through trees which brushed the sides of the station wagon, but eventually we pulled into a clearing right on the lakeshore. The smell of pine and loam greeted us.

There was still light in the sky, though the sun was low behind the tall pines. Mom climbed out and opened the tailgate, one side hinging up, the other lying flat. She rummaged through the boxes and came back holding a bar of soap at arm's length.

I laughed and took it off her. "Do I smell that bad, Mom?"

"You smell wonderful, you always do, but no way am I sleeping next to you covered in grease."

I took the soap and waited for her to turn her back. She wandered over to a big boulder and perched herself down, crossed her ankles. This was sure turning out to be one hell of a trip. I stripped my t-shirt off, unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them down. My cock had deflated during the day, but stripping in front of Mom was starting to affect me once more. Too late to chicken out now. I sat on the tailgate and pulled my socks off, stood and slipped my shorts down fast and walked to the water, not looking in her direction, but I knew she was watching, her eyes burning my skin wherever her gaze fell.

The water was cold, but not too cold, and I was grateful because once it came to my waist the chill caused my cock to shrink. I ducked under the surface, came up and flicked water from my hair. It needed cutting I knew, but it never seemed high on my list of priorities. The soap was some scented thing Mom had a dozen bars of in one of the boxes. I washed myself all over, scrubbed at my arms and forearms but the oil was stubborn and I needed hot water to shift it. Mom would just have to keep her distance. Except, as ever, I knew she wouldn't.

I ducked under, rinsing my hair, and when I came up I heard a splash, turned to see her stroking toward me, a smile on her pretty face.

"Are you clean?" she said, stopping and putting her feet down. She stayed with her knees bent because the water only came to her chin while it was just above my waist. Mom was obviously trying to protect her modesty. Maybe. The clear lake-water didn't hide much, and her breasts floated high, waveringly visible.

"Can't get all the oil off," I said, showing her my hands.

"Want me to give you a scrub, like I used to when you were small?"

"I'm not so small any longer."

Her smile lifted on one side. "I kinda noticed that," she said. "Here, gimme the soap, I might as well freshen up as well."

I held the bar out to her and she took it, her fingers wet and cold. Before I could move or turn away she stood up, water cascading over her breasts, and started soaping herself.

"See if you can find the janitor, Joe, get him to turn the heat up. I'm not coming back to this hotel again."

I swam off, stroking hard out into the lake, trying to work off some energy, trying not to think about the way her breasts had looked, stippled with gooseflesh, the nipples peaked and tempting. I rolled onto my back and drifted, staring up as the sky lost color and the brighter stars came out, Venus low in the west hanging above the trees that came down to the lakeshore. My cock flopped just above the water, not as hard as when Mom was standing next to me, not as soft as I wanted it to be. I was far enough away I felt safe lying this way. Mom was a distant shape near the shore, still soaping herself. She had moved into the shallows and when I squeezed my eyes I could make out her washing between her legs. Jeez, I wasn't the only one needed to get a grip. Did she have any idea what she was doing to me?

I waited for Mom to return to the car, gave her five minutes then rolled over and swam back. Walking from the water the air was warm against my skin after the cold lake. The cicadas still sang but there were fewer now than when we started. The sky was dark, the car and Mom's figure sitting on her rock mere shadows. She stood and tossed me a towel. I grabbed it one handed and dried myself.

"This is nice," she said, and when I glanced over my eyes had adjusted more and I realized she was still naked. I could almost make out her pussy in the shadowed valley between her thighs, could make out the pale mounds of her breasts. "Too nice to get dressed yet. It's been so hot in the car, it feels good to sit out here this way. You don't mind do you, Joe."

"What, hanging out with a good looking naked broad?"

"Yeah, that."

"What's to mind? Not as if there's anyone within a mile can see us."

Dry, the air pressed against my body, warm as a lover's kiss, and I knew my cock was lengthening, wasn't sure Mom could see anything or not. Her boulder sat in the shade of the trees, but out in the clearing a crescent moon cast enough light to show me. Reflected light caught in Mom's eyes and I saw her scanning my body, appraising her son.

"I can see you," I said, "even if no-one else can."

"I don't mind you looking. You can look all you like. Sorry I'm not a bit younger and firmer like the college girls you must know."

"You're beautiful, Mom. Don't pretend you're not."

She laughed, waved her hand. "You're biased. I know what I am."

"Yeah. Gorgeous." I didn't know what I was doing, flirting with my own Mom like she was some sophomore I wanted to get the panties off. I smiled to myself. I'd already gotten her panties off!

I walked across the clearing and sat on the edge on the lowered tailgate. Twenty feet away Mom rose from the boulder and rubbed her ass with both hands.

"That's not as comfortable as it looks."

I laughed. "It's a rock, Mom, what did you expect?"

"Shit, I could go a nice soft chair right now." Mom never used to cuss much around me when I was growing up, but I'd noticed since we started our trip her language had become coarser. It didn't bother me, but it did sound strange in my ears.

Mom stretched her arms high above her head, arching her back as though deliberately displaying for me, the white moonlight etching her in monochrome, the smooth area at the junction of her thighs still a little scary when I thought she might have shaved her pussy especially for me. I couldn't think of any other explanation. Unless it was something she did all the time. I realized although I knew a lot about Mom there was a whole new side to her I'd never seen that had emerged since we set out from Wilmington.

"This is fun," Mom said, walking around the clearing, picking her feet up and treading carefully. "Makes me feel wanton and abandoned, set free. People should get naked more often, Joe, it's liberating. You want to join me for a stroll?"

"Suppose we meet someone?"

She giggled. "Maybe they'll be naked too. If we do we can always hide in the trees. Besides, there's no-one within miles, you told me."

She was right. The night was silent, only the lapping of the lake and the cooling cicadas breaking the stillness. I rose and walked across to join her. My cock swung heavy between my legs but I wasn't going to attempt to hide anymore. I half expected to come to full attention again, but maybe I was getting used to the teasing because my body behaved itself for once.

Mom stepped off along the shoreline and I followed, watching her ass jiggle as she moved. She had a stupendous ass, round and full and firm, blooming from a nipped waist. We only walked a couple hundred yards, no more, sticking close to the lakeshore to avoid any hidden dangers. Mom was right, it did feel liberating to walk naked through the dark, warm air against our skin, nothing between us and nature.

Mom stopped and turned back, stared down at my cock and the side of her mouth twitched. She came back toward me. For a moment I thought she was going to keep right on coming, press herself against me, but at the last minute she slipped to one side, her feet splashing through the edge of the lake. She trailed her fingers along my side, the touch electric.


Better get some sleep if we want to catch up tomorrow. I'll drive a spell first thing."

I turned and followed her. Mom climbed into the back of the station wagon, for a moment her ass pointed into the air, legs parted a little offering a view directly along her crack and down to her pussy. She had to be doing all this deliberately, and I wondered if I was going to succumb tonight, knew I wanted to, didn't know if I had the courage.

I slipped in beside her as she wriggled under the sheet. She plumped her pillow, did the same for mine as I slid in beside her. We left the tailgate down to let some air flow through. When Mom snuggled across to me I lifted my arm and felt her breasts part around my ribs. She kissed me on the cheek, an innocent kiss, nothing more, as her arm d****d across chest.

"I haven't been held like this in... God, I can't remember how long. Hank never had much time for cuddling."

"What about Dad? Did he?"

She moved, putting a little more pressure against my side for a moment. "We didn't have that much time, but yeah, he did. Your dad was real gentle. You look so much like him, Joe, so, so much like him."

"You said."

"You were never a mistake," she whispered, and kissed my cheek again, moved and kissed my neck, her hand stroking my chest.

Now? I thought. But Mom wanted to talk about about Ricky. His name on my birth certificate was Richard Stuart Campbell, but she always called him Ricky like he was still nineteen. I guess he always would be. I'd heard the story before, but she told me anyway, and I didn't mind.

They were c***dhood sweethearts. Ricky was a couple years older than Mom, a real catch to hear her tell. I heard about him asking her out, how they went to the coffee bar and he bought her milk shake and laughed at her milk mustache just like I had done. Then she started telling me more intimate things. How they kissed that first night, how Ricky kissed her milk mustache and then her mouth. Mom told me pretty much everything, blow by blow, her voice soft, almost masked by the cicadas. She let him touch her the third date, outside her bra even though she wanted him to touch beneath it. That had waited until date five. Pretty soon they were doing everything short of making out.

"I loved kissing him, Joe. Loved it when he kissed me. Kissed me in those special places. You know where I mean, Joe?"

I nodded into the dark. I knew exactly where she meant.

"He's the only man that ever made me come. Never another man. He could make me come with his hand or his tongue or his cock." Mom lifted the sheet, looked under even though it was too dark to see anything much. "You've got a cock just like your dad. If anything you might be a tad bigger." She let the sheet drop. My cock tented the cotton.

"I liked making him come. He could fuck me anywhere. I wanted him to fuck me everywhere." Her voice was barely audible and I could feel her trembling, a tremor in her voice, and I thought she might be crying but she carried on anyway. "I loved when he came in my mouth. Loved his cock in my mouth. Loved everything he did, in my pussy, in my ass, he used to come between my tits and splash