Drive-In Date with Mom

She said nothing at first.

I kept tickling my finger on her boob, moving it in wider circles, tickling it over the side of her boob.

At last, Mom said, "That feels nice."

Bingo. I pushed my hand down farther, scooping the front of her boob in my hand. I squeezed.

Mom moaned. Yes, my mom moaned when her breast was squeezed for the first time by her son.

I mashed her breast more aggressively. I grabbed it and squeezed it and pushed it up and down, and side to side. I brought my thumb and forefinger together at her nipple, which, even under the fabric of her cheer top, I could tell was hard.

Mom moaned more loudly.

I put my lips close to her ear.

"Does that feel nice?" I whispered.

"Yes, it does."

She began to run her hand back and forth over my chest, over my own nipples, as I pinched hers.

I'd never seen my mom like this before. So soft and compliant. Since the separation from Dad years ago, especially, Mom had become more businesslike and assertive. But here she lay in my arms, seemingly ready to do . . . whatever.

I wanted to see what she'd be willing to do next.

I pushed my left hand across my body and set it gently under her chin, and lifted it, until her head was raised enough that I could see her face and her eyes looking into mine.

I cupped her cheek and I kissed her--just a soft gentle peck on the lips.

"Will," she said, eyes boring into mine, and I couldn't tell what she meant by it. There were a thousand meanings swimming in those eyes, and I couldn't tell which one prevailed. Was she about to rebuke me? Tell us we had to stop? Tell me we had to leave and go home now?

She did none of those things. Her body moved forward, and her right hand went to the back of my neck, and she pulled my head toward hers, and our lips met again, more urgently this time, and Mom kissed me deeply and passionately. Our lips mashed, and then they opened, and our lips touched, and then they danced together, swirling and thrusting.

Mom and I kissed deeply, with abandon. Mom and I were making out in the backseat of the car at the drive-in.

Mom clung to my neck with both hands, and my free hands went back to her boobs, taking both of them in my outstretched, eager fingers. I mashed her breasts eagerly while we kissed.

She pulled away from me for a moment.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said.

"It feels good to me," I said.

"It feels good to me, too," she said. "But we still shouldn't be doing it."

"I want to," I replied. "But whatever you want to do, Mom."

She paused, but only briefly, before she attacked me again, more ardently than before. Our lips crashed together again.

This time, I rose as we kissed, and I pushed her shoulders back. It wasn't easy to do in the backseat of the small car, but I half-stood and half-crouched over her and Mom's knees went up and soon I was on top of her, groping her and kissing her, while she raked her fingers through my hair.

It felt weird, and I'm sure it felt even weirder for Mom. But something pent up inside her obviously had been unleashed. Her body moved with as much ardor and eagerness as mine did.

With all the arousal and the buzz of alcohol coursing through me, there was no gate to hold me back from doing what I wanted to do next. As we made out, with my body on top of hers, one free hand went down until it cupped her pubic mound. My hand pushed, and her mound pushed back. Holy fuck, Mom. She bucked her hips off the seat against my hand. I took my other hand and slipped it up, under her top, snaking its way over her belly button and the velvet skin of her torso until it reached the edge of her bra. There was no way it could stop. My fingers wormed their way under the edge of her bra and kept going, until finally my fingers were over Mom's bare breast, and I felt a hard nipple press against them.

"Yes, Will," she said.

Mom was like someone I'd never known before. I didn't know who this woman was. But she was gorgeous and had a great body and she was offering it up to me and my hands wanted to explore it. The entire time we writhed against each other, Mom kissed me, ardently, passionately, lips attacking me like wild animals. I attacked back. It was like we were both hunting and devouring each other.

And then, suddenly, Mom pushed back against me, and I gave way, off her, until I was seated upright again, staring at her, wondering. I didn't wonder long.

"Will," she said. "You don't mind seeing your mom like this, do you? You don't think badly of me?"

"God no," I said. "Mom . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Mom said, in a husky voice.

She pushed against my chest, and it was my turn to fall back against the leather car seat.

Mom's swift, nimble fingers went to crotch of my pants, and against the loud noise of the absurd movie we were supposed to watch I heard the sound of a zipper being unzipped.

Holy shit, Mom was going to . . .

Yes, she was.

Her hands worked their way into the open fly of my pants, and soon they returned with their prize: a rock-hard cock that had strained against the tight pants and now sprang wild and tall, pointed toward the car ceiling in the low light.

Mom wasted no time. She wrapped her fingers around my tumescent shaft, and she squeezed it. She bent at the waist, until her face was inches from my swollen bulb. We locked eyes again, and Mom smiled, and there was an infinity of thoughts and emotions and history behind that smile. Then she stuck out her tongue, and she went to work.

The instant her tongue touched my cock, time stood still. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled. I had no idea where Mom acquired her skills, but skills she had. Her tongue flickered over my cock tip, and then it swirled over the base of my cock head. With her hand she then angled my cock up so she could better run her slurpy tongue up and down the length of my cock. Ah, it was heaven. No girlfriend I'd ever had had done it better. I kept thinking, Damn, Mom, how are you so good at this?

When her manual ministrations to the length of my cock shaft were done, she looked up at me, as though to say, Now is time for the main course. And then she opened wide, and her mouth descended on my dick with an expertise and enthusiasm I had never before seen or felt. She took my length into her mouth, rapidly, and I heard her gag, but she didn't stop.

In the low light I saw slender streams of drool trickle out either side of Mom's mouth, but she kept going. Her mouth worked overtime over my hard shaft, not stopping, not taking time off, not slacking. And I watched, entranced, as the gorgeous puffy lips of her mouth descended on me, giving me pleasure I had never felt. I looked into Mom's face. I saw lust and fury and longing and desperation, as though all her life she had craved something and never gotten it, and now, at last, in the backseat of her car, with her son, no less, she had the chance to get it, and she wasn't going to be denied. She attacked my cock with her lips--those exquisite lips--and now and then, in the scant light afforded by the drive-in theater, she looked up from my hard cock to my face with those eyes--those exquisite eyes, full of love and lust and emotions I didn't know or understand.

She worked my cock like that for a while, and I lost track of time. We had both long since given up on paying attention to the movie. I briefly fretted about the possibility that someone might see us inside the car, but it was dark, and the windows were tinted and everybody else was watching the movie, and I didn't fret too much. Mom didn't seem to fret at all. She was too busy servicing my hard cock.

"Feels so good, Mom," I told her.

"Mmmmph," she said back, her mouth stuffed with hard meat.

I pushed my hips up every time her mouth descended, to make sure my cock got as deep inside her as possible. Mom took every thrust I gave her.

I felt a warmth and swell inside me, and I knew I was close. I was going to come inside Mom's mouth. God.

But Mom, as though sensing my thoughts, pulled her mouth away from my desperately hard cock.

"Don't come in my mouth, Will," she said. "I want you to come somewhere else."

That sounded OK to me, but before I gave Mom what she wanted, I needed something. I rose from the seat and took her by the shoulders back until Mom was, again, lying face up on the back seat and I half-stood and half-squatted over her.

Mom looked quizzically into my eyes, but she didn't resist. She lay back at the manipulation of her body by my hands.

"Mom," I said with a heavy sigh.

"Will," she said in return.

I didn't wait. I ran my hands up her bare, cool thighs, until my fingers felt the waistband of her cheerleader bloomers. Then I pulled. I felt that initial resistance, and it was delicious. But soon enough the tiny garment descended, past her waist, past her hips, down her thighs, until they lay pooled at her knees.

"How do you feel about being naked at the drive-in, Mom?" I asked.

"Nervous," she said.

"There are worse things than being nervous," I said, and I pulled the panties all the down, past her knees, past her shins, awkwardly over her feet, until they were just a clump of latex in my hands, and Mom lay spread before me, bare, pussy on display.

I tossed the panties aside.

Something was going on in the movie at the theater. I had no idea what. The Rock was doing something heroic, or Vin Diesel was being a badass. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that my mom lay nude and spread-eagled before me, and I was 21, and I was horny, and I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted any woman before. She looked at me and we locked eyes. If I could have bottled that look, I would have.

My hands went forward and grabbed her thighs. My hands pushed them back.

Mom's pussy lay before me like a ripe fruit, ready to be tasted.

So, I tasted it.

My hands went to her pussy, and they peeled back her lips. It was so dark I could barely see what I was doing, but, still, I saw the interior of her pussy glisten in the light coming from the movie. I had never seen anything so beautiful or erotic.

I could not resist. My mouth descended on her, and I tasted my mother.

I started with her clit, lips puckered in a small circle and tongue darting forward to touch her. I teased her tiny, precious pearl.

My tongue moved down, into the groove of her cleft, and I tasted Mom's sweet, riotous depths--that exquisite flavor, elusive and defying all description.

I had heard girls say a guy shouldn't go down too fast or too rough, but take his time, and I tried. But it was hard. I didn't just want to eat Mom, I wanted to devour her.

"So good, Mom," I said, lifting off of her just long enough to get the words out before going back down on her.

I lapped at her sweetness, over and over. I felt those fingers digging into my hair again, too. Mom moaned and squealed.

Anybody walking by could have looked into the car and seen us. Maybe they did. I didn't know. I was aware of the risk, but I wasn't going to stop.

I could have licked Mom all night like that, assuming the movie theater wouldn't have kicked us out. But I needed to do something else. I lifted off her. Mom lay back on the car seat, a sexy mess: hair disheveled, top pulled up over her boobs, skirt up and pussy fully on display.

"I want you," I said. "I need you."

"We're awfully exposed," she said. "Maybe we should go home."

"I can't wait," I said. I couldn't. I needed Mom right then and there. And, to tell the truth, I liked the risk. I liked the idea of fucking my mom, for the first time, in a public place, surrounded by people in their cars.

I pushed my hips forward until the purply head of my cock nestled against the lips of her pussy.

"I'm going to fuck you now," I said.

"OK," she said. She was reluctant to say it, but she wanted it to.

I pushed forward, and I was surprised at how much resistance I had at first. A weird thought popped into my head: my last encounter with Mom's pussy was 21 years ago today. I was back.

At last, the head pushed past her delicate lips. I kept pushing and watched with joy as my shaft disappeared, inch by inch, into her. Her pussy was snugger than I would have guessed. It encased me like a tight glove, although her intense wetness smoothed the way forward. I pushed, on and on, until at last my cock had disappeared completely inside her.

"I can't believe I'm really fucking you," I said.

Mom said nothing for a few moments. She just looked at me with an expression that was impossible to read. The noise from the movie was getting louder. I think a car chase was going on. I didn't care. I couldn't turn away from Mom.

"It feels good," she said, finally.

I pulled out, almost all the way, until part of my cock head emerged from between her pink lips, and then I pushed in again.

It was pure heaven.

I rocked in and out of her, and Mom rocked her body back against mine, writhing and moaning. The moaning was sometimes interrupted by an exclamation of "Oh Will!"

I couldn't think of much to say. Stroking my way into her depths felt so good that my brain wasn't functioning very well, and words weren't coming easily. I concentrated all my attention on the rapturous sensation of her tight, wet pussy gripping my cock.

I could hear it, too: the sound of my hard cock slapping its way into her wet pussy. I could hear her pussy getting wetter with every stroke. There was no sweeter music than that.

"God, that's so good," Mom said, panting.

I looked up and noticed the condensation beginning to grow on the windows of the car. Yikes. People would get suspicious if they noticed that--and the fact that our heads weren't visible. They would know what was going on.

I wasn't going to stop, though. Fucking Mom felt too good to stop. And I could tell it felt good to Mom, too. She wasn't paying attention to anything but being fucked. I marveled at the sight of her naked body under mine--heaving breasts, wet pussy, hair strewn all over the place.

She looked . . . slutty. I'd never thought of my mom as a sexual person before. I'd never think of her any other way again. Mom, with her naked body bucking off the car's back seat, looked as horny and sex-crazed as any girl I'd ever met.

My Mom was enjoying being fucked by her son.

She didn't enjoy it any more than I did, though. I loved it. My cock was a rocket, blasting into her inner space, exploring depths of her I'd never encountered, never even thought about before. Her pussy fit me like a glove. God, what a feeling.

"Tell me how much you like it, Mom," I said.

"I love it, Will," she said.

"More," I replied, breathing heavily and getting the words out with effort while I rocked inside her. "Tell me more about how you feel."

"I love the way you fuck me, Will. I love that feel of your big cock in me."

"Oh yeah," I said. I was too far gone to think of much to say. 99% of my brain was focused on the sensation of my cock shaft moving back and forth between her wondrous pussy lips. There wasn't enough brain power left for words.

"You're going to make me come soon, Will," Mom said. "I want you to come in me."

I didn't say anything in response, but I fucked her harder still, pushing with all my core strength into her, rocking my hips, concentrating all my strength and effort on my cock and the wet velvet sensation of Mom's pussy. With each stroke I slammed into her, to the hilt. Mom squealed with every push.

"Yes!" she cried. "I'm coming."

Mom's body shook under mine, and the feeling of it, combined with the knowledge I had just fucked my mother to orgasm, set me off, too. I felt the surge inside me, and the release inside Mom's pussy. I emptied myself into her, wildly and uncontrollably.

I collapsed on top of her.

Both of us were sweaty. There was a humid, jungle feeling in the car, and the smell of sex in the air. The car windows were misty.

Mom and I lay naked together for a few minutes, until my attention refocused on the sound of the movie we had long since stopped watching. It was over. I sat up. The credits were rolling.

"We better get dressed," Mom said, although she didn't move. She lay still and naked and magnificent below me, stretched out on the back seat. Her pussy lay clearly on display for me.

I handed her clothes to her. We both got dressed.

I felt awkward about getting out of the car to get back into the front seat. I wondered if people would look at Mom and suspect what I had been doing with her in the backseat. I wondered if anyone at the drive-in might recognize us.

There wasn't much we could do. After I'd pulled my pants back on and Mom had clothed herself in her cheerleader uniform, we opened the back doors and reclaimed our places in the front seat. I didn't see anyone I recognized. Cars were beginning to pull away and leave the movie.

We drove off, too, back home.

Neither of us said anything for a while. I think both of us were on fire from the sex, but embarrassed about it, too.

Mom was the one to break the silence.

"Will," she said.

"Yeah, Mom?"

I turned to her. She was looking at me, and I'd never seen such a mischievous look on her face.

"We don't have to wait until your next birthday to go to the movies again."