This little tale is an homage to some of the most popular stories on Literotica.
NakdSalr’s “Mom Takes a Ride” (1 & 2), and byRetired04’s “Sitting On My Son’s Lap”, are both slightly absurd, fun and erotic situations, with a Mom going for an extended ride sitting on her son’s lap, with others in the car. IMHO “Mom Takes a Ride” sets a high bar for this kind of story, being a quick easy read, and the car scene ridiculously erotic.
I thought I’d take a shot at a similar story, from the Son’s point of view. I also carried the absurdity just a little too far. If you’ve read any of my work, undoubtedly you know I require a lot more setup, background, character development and so on. I can’t help myself.
I don’t have the talent to make the story as short as I’d like, but I’m working on that.
I hope you enjoy it. – TTT
P.S. This is an entry for the 2012 Summer Lovin’ Contest. It is about Aunt’s and their Nephews, as well as Mother’s and Son’s. If that’s not your cup of tea, please read one of the other excellent entries.
“Harold, this is crazy! We’re never going to fit all that in the car.”
I had to agree with Mom on this one. We were shutting down the summer cabin early, and as usual, it meant bringing home lots of gear that had migrated there during our multiple ‘mini-vacations’. Unfortunately, Dad’s workload had exploded with a new contract, and it was unlikely we’d get back out to the house again that summer.
This season we’d accumulated more than ever. The coolers with all the game meat were the main culprits. We’d planned on the wild pig hunt earlier in the summer, but had to reschedule twice, due to weather. Mom and Aunt Marie had conniption fits when they found out we’d be hunting on the last day of our vacation. After a bit they settled down and gave in. Mom was a big believer in ‘male bonding’. Dad and I didn’t do enough together, other than watch football part of the year, by her way of thinkin’. We’d taken up hunting two years back, and even though it was pricey as hobbies go, it turned out to be good for us. It brought us closer, and though we were usually all business during the hunt, we opened up a good bit during our outings. Truth is, it was kind of cool.
My cousin Colin had never really known his real father, and had never been close with either of his two step-fathers, neither of which were in the picture any more. Aunt Marie welcomed any opportunity for him to hang out with other men. Besides, I think she kinda liked the old man. You can’t blame her, he’s pretty good as Dad’s go, if a little ultra-conservative on occasion.
In the end they let us ‘he-men’ go with their blessings, insisting that we prove ourselves as ‘providers’ and bring home the bacon. Literally. In the mean time they’d keep the cave clean, and work on polishing off some of the fermented brew. We’d been derelict in our duties, and they had a good bit of work ahead of them, at least in the drinking arena.
We headed out well before dawn to a local orchard where the owner was having problems with herds of feral pigs. It was my first time hunting hogs, and Colin’s first time hunting, period. We’d had him practicing out back on the property, chewing our way through a mess of ammunition. Another manly thing the Mom’s thankfully approved of. But the play time was over. Big leagues now. We had no idea what to expect.
If you’ve never gone wild pig hunting, there’s no way I could do it justice in a few paragraphs, never mind an entire novel. It’s beyond description. We had the time of our lives. We killed wild beasts, dragged their massive carcasses across fields, skinned and cleaned them, and all in all felt pretty damn good about ourselves. Nothing like killing critters, especially big mean ones that could tear you open in seconds, to get a man’s testosterone and adrenaline pumping. I swear, after one particular episode I could practically feel my voice deepening, my chest hair growing, and my dick swinging free, half-way to my knee.
If any of you ‘men’ have got some kind of deep-seated issue with me killin’ stuff, as far as I’m concerned you can just pull up your panties, shave your goatee, and move to France, ya damn wusses.
Ladies with issues? Understood. It’s a man thing. Come sit on my lap, and I’ll explain everything. Heh. (It’s an inside joke, never mind.)
The day had been incredible, to say the least. We’d harvested eight all told, and spent more time cleanin’ them than we had hunting. We’d filled two large coolers to the brim, and still left most of the meat with the property owner. The farmer was pleased as could be with our results. The pig issue was becoming a huge problem, causing massive crop damage and ground erosion. He welcomed us to come back any time, and clear out as many as we possibly could. Dad shook his hand, and told him we might take him up on that.
We were exhausted yet exhilarated. Colin had killed one ferocious boar that weighed in around 200 lbs, and I’d shot a trophy sow that easily exceeded our 250 lb scale. We’d worked our asses off dragging the pigs back to the Jeep, and learning to skin, gut and butcher a hog bigger than me turned out to be a supremely time-consuming and messy effort. I was never more appreciative of that winch on our Jeep. Dad knew what he was doing, and had all the tools we needed. I’m sure he could have finished it in half the time, but our learning was a big part of the process. Dad always took pride in teaching me, and I appreciated it, even if I didn’t say so very often.
The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time we made it back to the cabin, which put a damper on our excitement. We were late getting back, and knew it would be a lot later before we got out of there, with at least a 2 hour drive ahead of us before we got home.
Turns out things weren’t all that bad. Aunt Marie and Mom had finished up most of the packing and a stupidly large pile of gear was stacked in the car-port, ready for loading. We backed the Jeep in and found the sisters parked on the front porch, beers in hand.
Colin ran over, still completely stoked over his first hunting trip, but before we were 10 seconds into our story we were cut off.
Mom was holding her nose, and pointing to the lake. “Go! In the lake, clothes and all. Now!”
Aunt Marie was no better. “Lord, y’all stink! You’re filthier than those pigs you claimed to be hunting. Harold, I gave you my handsome boy and you returned this?”
Dad laughed. “This young MAN shot a 200 lb boar with 5 inch tusks that could tear you wide open faster than you could say ‘Woo pig sooie!'” He put his big old meaty hand on the back of Colin’s neck and gave him a squeeze. I saw Colin wince. I knew that squeeze well. I’d suffer it happily. It was the closest thing to affection we men are allowed to share.
Ten minutes later we were swimming/bathing off of our dock, with the Moms parked on the end, listening to our tales while still working on their beers. I suspected they’d had more than a few. It was easy enough to see they were feeling no pain.
To hear Colin tell it, we’d killed Hogzilla, and needed a backhoe to drag it back for cleanin’. Dad shed some reality on the stories, but our Moms were happy we’d had a good day, and were clearly pleased with Colin’s contagious excitement in particular.
Alright, I’m gonna throw this out there, even though a lot of y’all are gonna think me perverted or something. Try to be open-minded.
Aunt Marie is hot. Her ex-es must have been some stupid sumbitches.
There. I said it. And don’t judge me until you’ve seen her.
If Mom wasn’t, well, Mom, it’d be pretty easy to put her in the same category. Hell, except for their boobs and butts, they could almost have been twins. Come to think of it, they are – Irish twins at least, born only about 11 months apart.
They were both wearing bikinis which they had selected to best emphasize their most noteworthy features. They were obviously sisters, with much the same build, and nearly identical features. Aunt Marie had been considerably more blessed when the boob fairy made her appearance, but Mom had the whole package, including the most perfect ass in the free world. Don’t believe me? Ask Dad. He pointed it out in the first place.
Aunt Marie’s bikini top was barely able to contain her enormous bounty, and for a woman closer to 40 than 30, they stood up firm and proud, defying age and gravity.
Mom’s bikini on the other hand, while nicely encasing her more-than-worthy breasts, emphasized her amazing hips and ass. It was small in the back, showing a lot of cheek, which some might have considered overdoing it a bit, with only family around. I personally thought it was a generous gift to all of mankind, to keep those bodacious cheeks on full display.
Bodacious. That was Dad’s word for them. Funny the things guys talk about as they get older. Especially while huntin’ with all the testosterone pumpin’. Who ever thought my Dad would brag about Mom’s bodacious ass? To me?
The ladies where making us scrub some of the filth off our clothes, passing them out piece by piece. We were developing a nice little pile of wet clothing, which may not have been clean, but was a whole lot better than it had started.
Mom got up and took her cover-up off, but before she could jump in, I stopped her. “Mom! Wait!”
“What?” she asked peevishly.
“I, uh – I’m naked in here.”
Colin chimed in, “Me too, Aunt Alice.”
Mom rolled her eyes and glared at the old man.
Dad laughed. “Hey! Don’t blame me. I’m not the one going commando. Looks like you and your sister’s bad habits are rubbing off.”
Mom blushed mightily, but Aunt Marie just grinned. Mom dug into the tote bag she’d brought down to the water, and came up with a couple of pair of boxers she tossed to Colin and I. Once I noticed that Aunt Marie was getting ready to get in the water too, I almost wished I hadn’t said anything. Hell, let’s be honest, there was no ‘almost’ about it.
After a bit they joined us, and we splashed around playfully. Dad was the first to retreat from the cold lake water, and he made his way to the house to get dressed and start the winterizing and car loading.
Mom and Aunt Marie were always competitive, mostly in a good-natured way. Parties, outfits, dinners, hair-dressers, bargain hunting, everything between them seemed to be some kind of competition. To hear the family tell it, they had always competed over everything since they were kids.
That day was no different and they were soon talking about chicken-fights. We’d done a lot of that the previous summer, and before much longer Mom was up on my shoulders and Aunt Marie was on Colin’s, each trying to knock the other one off. Mom was giving me grief, threatening physical injury, grounding, and even starvation if we didn’t win.
Like I said, competitive. Especially where her younger sister was involved. So I kinda cheated. Just a little.
I’m about 4 inches taller than Colin, so moving out into water that was just a little deeper gave me an unfair advantage. When the water was almost up to his neck, I turned and forced him backwards. After one step his mouth was at the water line, and after just a few seconds of tussling, and my blocking his way back into shallower water, he was choking. He coughed, turned sideways and started walking away, his mother sliding backwards off his shoulders. Mom grabbed Aunt Marie by the shoulders, leaning over and almost dunking me. She was fighting hard, and her legs were nearly cutting off my circulation, her chest pushing my head almost into the water. When I stood back upright, Mom was crowing over her victory, and I looked up to see Aunt Marie struggling to get back onto Colin’s shoulders, half drowning him. It was a few moments before I realized she was topless.
Mom was laughing, waving the bikini top around in the air, while Aunt Marie finally straightened up and covered herself with her hands. “Alice! You rotten little cheat!”
I was walking toward them, for a better look, when Mom threw the top back to her from a few feet away. “You know you love it, Em,” Mom laughed. “It’s not like you’ve ever missed an opportunity to show ’em off. Can’t say I might not do the same if I had puppies like those.”
Aunt Marie struggled to put the top back on, precariously poised on Colin’s shoulders. Poor boy. Missed the whole show. And a hell of a show it was. Getting dressed again put her breasts completely on display for me. Her areola were dark and huge, at least 3 inches across, covering half her breast. The cold water had her nipples hard and puckered. They stood out nearly 1/2 an inch, near as big at the tip of my pinky, and begging for attention. I knew it would be a while before I’d be able to get out of the water without embarrassing myself, in spite of the cold.
“Show ’em off? In front of your son? That’s pretty outrageous even for you,” Aunt Marie answered, tucking her breasts back into her tiny top. “All talk and no action, I’m thinkin’.” Even inside her bikini her big nipples poked out deliciously, screaming for more personal attention.
“Jeremy can’t see nothin’,” Mom teased, “just like poor Colin didn’t get to see your big ol’ titties bouncin’ around.” She was wiggling around, and I saw Colin’s wide-eyed reaction. “There, now we’re even. Both boys got an eyeful. Feelin’ better?”
“Jesus, Alice! Put that back on before Harold sees you. That’s all I need to hear about on the ride back. You get wild, and I get the blame.”
“Spoilsport. Who’s all talk now?” I had tilted my head back and was trying to catch just a little view of what the commotion was all about. I had a quick glimpse of Mom’s tits, her nipples pink and erect, when she thumped me on the head. “Eyes ahead, Jeremy.”
Caught. Damn it.
After the excitement, we all headed back to shore and dried off best we could, before we’d start helping Dad load up the vehicle.
I still had visions of Aunt Marie’s amazing boobage on my brain. It was like sunspots; I just couldn’t shake it. Of course it didn’t help when she snuck up on me, and put me in a head lock, while I was drying off. Getting my face smashed into her breast was too strong a reminder of what I’d just seen.
I love my Aunt Marie. As far as sister’s go, she’s definitely the fun one. She’s doted on me and spoiled me for as long as I remember. She’d always tussled with me, and it still drew Dad’s ire that we’d never outgrown it. She had a way of talking to me, when I was younger, that made me feel older, more mature. When things got hairy, I’d sometimes call her and talk it out with her. She was a great listener.
But in the last few years, especially since she split up with husband number three and spent so much time around us, I couldn’t help but notice her as a woman. Give me a break, she was ridiculously sexy. You’d feel the same in my shoes. Trust me on this one.
Mom, on the other hand had always been the stable one, the reasonable one, the conservative one. Aunt Marie would show up at our house in Daisy Duke’s and a halter top. Mom? Mom dressed like a Mom. Aunt Marie would sneak me a beer, Mom would ground me for having alcohol on my breath. Mom set a 10 o’clock curfew on my dates, even as a senior. Aunt Marie made sure I had a rubber.
Don’t get me wrong. Mom was a great mom, and I loved my family like nobody’s business. But every boy should have an Aunt Marie in his life.
The head lock was too much. I scooped her up in my arms, and motor-boated her cleavage. She laughed hysterically.
Unfortunately, Mom, who was only about 5 feet away, unbeknownst to me, didn’t see it the same way.
“Jeremy! Stop that!” She spoke sharply, through clenched teeth.
The sound of her voice froze me in place, then I set my Aunt carefully down. You could see the tears in her eyes from laughing so hard.
“She started it,” I argued weakly.
“And you think that’s the appropriate way to end it? With your aunt?”
Aunt Marie tried to come to my rescue. “It’s a boob day, Sissy. No big deal. You said so yourself.”
Mom was caught. “Alright. I get it. Playin’ around. But think, Jeremy. What if your father walked up when you were doing that? What then?”
“He’d have to wait his turn,” I quipped. Sometimes my mouth moved faster than my brain.
Mom stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She finally just glared at Aunt Marie shaking her finger at her. “You! You’re a bad influence.” Then she stomped away.
Aunt Marie almost choked holding back her laughter. “I can’t believe you sometimes, Jeremy. You’re so like your father at your age, it scares me.”
“He was just as impetuous, mouthy and confident as you. Jesus, he was something.” She had a far off look in her eye. “Your Mom won that one, I’ll give her that much.”
I put my arm around my diminutive aunt’s narrow waist, and tugged her along. “We better get going, no telling what Mom would think we’re up to, if we linger longer.”
“No telling what we’d get up to either,” she teased, goosing me.
“Aunt Marie!” I said, jumping.
“Just keeping you on your toes,” she laughed, running away from me so I couldn’t exact my revenge. Rotten thing.
* * *
The Jeep Wrangler Rubicon is a decent-sized vehicle. But in this case, not even close to big enough.
“It’ll never all fit,” Mom continued to argue.
“It’ll fit. It’s like a puzzle, we just have to find the right combination,” Dad argued.
But Mom was right. Five adults and a pile of gear nearly 6 feet high was too much for the old Jeep.
Aunt Marie was the first to suggest collapsing the seat behind the driver. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but maybe we can get the rest in. You’ll have to sit three up front and two in back. Someone’s going to have to ride on the console.”
“Damn it!” Dad growled, re-adjusting some of the gear in the rear. “Nobody’s going to be able to sit on the console for over 2 hours.”
Mom had a different solution. One I never would have expected to hear from her. “I can sit on Jeremy’s lap,” she suggested. “If he gets too tired we can take a break, and Colin and Marie can take the front seat.”
We were still walking around half-dressed, although I had a t-shirt on with my boxers, and the sisters both had cover-ups, which mostly covered up. Still, looking over at Mom dressed in her bikini, and thinking about her sitting on my lap for 2 hours was a little disturbing. Had to keep my thoughts calm. The boxers wouldn’t do a very good job of camouflaging my excitement if things got any worse down there.
Dad grunted, and we tried out Aunt Marie’s solution. We soon realized that even with the seat behind the driver collapsed, we still had a lot of gear outside. He was struggling to squeeze the largest suitcase sideways between the front seats, resting on the console, while leaving enough room to access the gear shifter. Even that was a poor fit, pushing the soft top upward to the point where it looked like it might tear.
It was obvious to everyone but my obstinate father, we still weren’t going to make it. “Fuck it!” Dad growled. “Let’s just leave some of this crap behind, and we’ll get it in a couple of weeks.”
Now I knew he was getting frustrated. He rarely swore.
Aunt Marie struggled to be the voice of reason. “C’mon Harold, I think we’re almost there. If we lay down the other seat in back, instead, I think it’ll fit.”
I tried to be helpful. “The night’s warm. We could ride with the top down. Stack things a little higher. And the suitcase will fit then.”
Dad looked tired. It had been a long day. We’d been up since 4:00 a.m. “That seat behind mine is barely wide enough to fit one person, never mind two.”
Aunt Marie wasn’t giving up. “I guess the boys will just have to suffer through two hours of having their Moms sit on their laps. It’ll save you wasting a full day coming back here in a couple of weeks, not to mention a $100 worth of gas.” She turned to me and Colin. “Y’all reckon your legs can survive two old ladies sitting on ’em for a couple of hours?”