Slippery Slope

"Did you know about this?" I asked.

"The blizzard?"

I nodded.

"No," she said. "I mean, I heard we were going to get some snow, but that was a few days ago when I checked. I had no idea it was going to be like this." She gestured out the windshield to the hurricane of fat snowflakes. "You?"

I shook my head. "How are we on fuel?" I asked.

"Just under half," she responded. "Why? Do you think I should shut it off? Save gas?"

"No," I said, "but, I think I should get out, go up there, flag down a car."

Mom stared at me a moment, and then said, "I was thinking the same thing."

"No phones. It's that or walk home."

"Absolutely not. No. You cannot walk home. In this cold? I forbid it."

"I know. I won't, Mom," I said. I looked around the back seat. "Have you got any extra cold weather gear? Anything?"

She turned. "Just the blanket. Do you want to take it?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't want it to get wet in case..."

We stared at one another.

I finished, "...in case we have to be out here for too long."

She searched my eyes. "You don't think..."

"I don't know."

I drew in a deep breath and started to tuck, zip, and bundle myself up. I was wearing sweatpants with shorts and underwear beneath. I wore athletic socks and tennis shoes. On top, my tee-shirt was still soaking from the workout. Over that, I had on a thick hoodie and my winter coat. No gloves. My hoodie would have to be my hat. I pulled it over my head and drew the strings tight, securing them with a knot. I turned to Mom.

"Ready?" she asked.

I nodded, and then I pulled the handle and jumped out.

My shoes vanished in the snow, which rose up to my shins.

The right front tire was dead flat. Otherwise, the car didn't look too bad.

I turned and looked up the hill.

Shit, it was cold. Sharp cold. My face felt tight, like the slightest touch might slice my cheek open.

I trudged upward, and within a few steps, my feet slid from under me. My bare hands plunged into the frigid powder to catch my fall.

I cursed, yanking my hands up and putting my knees down. I rose, cursed again, and began a methodical and careful ascent.

The boulder that had rocked and spun us looked untouched as I passed it.

I followed our tracks back up the hill, but they were rapidly disappearing from the ongoing snowfall. The only way to make progress was by walking with my feet herring-boned outward for traction. It took about three minutes to go about forty yards.

At the top, my body was shaking from the cold, despite my exertion. I pulled my arms through my sleeves and rubbed my hands together. I ran in place for a minute.

There were no other tracks on the road, inbound or out, and ours, like on the hillside, were almost invisible. Looking around, I decided to cross over to the inside of the curve—to be safe in case the next car to come around spun out, too.

Fuck, the cold hurt. I couldn't feel my nose. I started jumping and jogging.

No one came.

Every minute was an eternity on that frozen, windblown road. At some point, I quit moving and just shivered, not even bothering to look for a car.

Later, I began to feel like I wanted just to sit down, and I knew I had to get the fuck out of there. Get back to the car.

But, my feet didn't want to move. Each step was a conscious, forced decision. I made it across the road, but on my first step down the declivity, I slipped, landed hard, and began rolling down. Snow shot up, inside my tee shirt. It caked on my face and in my ears inside the hoodie.

Throwing my arms out, I slowed and, finally, stopped the roll.

I sat up and looked for the car. It was almost invisible with snow except for the windshield, which was completely fogged in.

Staggering to my feet, I inched down the hill, feeling the snow melt against my body and trickle down over bare skin. I didn't even care. All that mattered was the warmth of the car.

I opened the door and crawled in. It took some time.

"Shut the door, honey," Mom urged. She was searching in her purse.

I twisted my body toward the door, hooked my numb fingers over the handle, and pulled the thing shut. It took my last ounce of energy to do it.

Still digging, Mom said, "Tell me you found someone."

I turned to her, and it was then she finally looked up at me Her eyes widened when she saw my face. She took in the rest of me, and then commanded, "Get in the back right now. Take off those clothes. Oh, honey! Oh, my word! Get that blanket around you."

Shivering, I said, "I'm not moving." I slurred the three words, but she understood.

She disappeared into the back seat.

I turned the heat to full blast, groaning at the feel of the warmth on my fingers.

I sat there, thawing for a few minutes before I felt how wet my socks and shoes had become.

Mom called to me, and I turned around. She had lowered the second-row seats, creating a square-shaped flat space about six feet long and four feet wide. "Come back here, get those wet clothes off and get under this blanket, honey. Now."

We traded spots. She reached back from the front seat to take my clothes as I pulled them off. She set them on the dashboard over the vents. I took off everything except my underwear and shorts. Then, I curled under the blanket and shivered uncontrollably.

"Ready to talk?" she asked.

I mumbled a yes.

"Did you see anyone?"

"N—no. Not a car. Not ev—even another s—set of tracks, going either way."

"Oh, no," she said. "Well, just get warmed up, honey. That's all that matters now."

"Can't," I began, "Can't stop sh—shivering."

I glanced up at her. All compassion and motherly affection in her eyes, it wasn't but a moment before she climbed into the back beside me, drew the blanket over the both of us, and began rubbing me forcefully with both hands.

"Oh, honey, your body is freezing."

I mumbled something.

She quit rubbing. She climbed on top of me, wrapping me in her arms and legs. I was on my stomach, and I could feel the shapes and contours of her body on my bare skin. Her hands slid up and down my sides, and her legs churned over mine as if she were on a horizontal stair-stepper machine. She went for a few minutes.

"Better?" she asked.

"Little bit."

"Turn over," she said, pushing herself to her hands and knees. There was not a great deal of overhead clearance in the back of her Four-Runner, but we managed. She laid on top of me and resumed her rough rubbing.

With the heat on full blast and Mom's unrelenting buffing, I very, very slowly thawed out.

Mom must have exhausted herself from the effort because the insistent pressure of her hands and legs had faded into a slow massage with just her hands along my sides. Her face was on my bare chest, and I felt the silkiness of her ponytail on my arm. Moms soft hands glided up my arms and over my shoulders, then slid down onto my chest. She repositioned her arms and slid her fingers over the sides of my thighs, down and up. On the way up, her hands slid under my shorts until they touched my underwear, then drew away.

She did it again, starting on my arms and finishing at the tops of my thighs.

On the second pass, I noticed how her breasts squashed against my tummy. I hugged her body close to mine. "Thanks, Mom."

"Better now?"

"Yeah."

She did a third pass, but I stopped her. I slid out from under her, gently setting her beside me. I had been getting an erection.

Fuck me. What the fuck? From my fucking Mom?

"Something the matter, honey?"

"No, no. I'm way better. Thanks."

She rolled to her side, facing away from me. After a brief silence, she asked, "Honey, what are we going to do?"

I knew, then, this situation alarmed her. She was the take-charge woman, the judge. She didn't sound like she was asking me in order to shoot down my idea. This was different.

But, I put that aside and considered her question. I said, "There's no way we can walk home in this. It would take hours. We don't have any snow gear. Even if one of us put on—well, no, it would have to be you—even if you put on all my clothes, plus yours, there's no way to make it."

"I'm so sorry, honey."

"Mom, it isn't your fault. Would've happened to anyone. Me, included. I mean, at least the car still runs. We're not upside down."

"Am I right in thinking the snow is covering up the tracks—our spin out up there?"

"Yeah. No one would see it."

"What do you think we should do?"

I thought about it for a moment. Then, I asked, "Did we pass Shadow Ridge Road?"

She nodded. "Half a mile back."

"I could walk back..."

She interrupted, "Honey, Shadow Ridge is at least three miles down that road."

"Oh." I hadn't known. She'd considered buying a home there before she settled on building ours in Quail Valley. "What about that little farm store?"

"At least two miles back," Mom said. "And they've got strange hours. I really don't think they would be open, especially in this."

I rubbed my hands together, thinking.

Mom said, "Home is the only way we could possibly go from here, and it's three and a half miles, minimum. Probably more like four. How far do you think we could get on foot?"

"In this?" I considered it. "It's probably less about distance and more about time."

"What do you mean?"

I said, "A person could maybe last thirty or forty-five minutes out there."

"How far could you get?"

"Jogging through that stuff? Maybe two miles or so."

Mom sighed, shaking her head.

I said, "Maybe there's something we could put up there by the street. I don't know. Something that a car driving by might see and know there's a problem."

"You're not going back out there. I can go."

"No, Mom. I'm going."

"What? Why? It's my turn."

"Mom, you haven't..." I didn't finish because I realized at that moment that bringing it up might be worse.

She finished for me. "Eaten. No. Not since dinner last night."

"You okay?"

She rolled to face me. A moment passed, and then she said, "For now."

I nodded. "Anyways, I'll go. You save your strength."

"Well, you're not going until your clothes are all dried out."

"Believe me, I don't want to go back out there. It sucks."

She touched my face and said, "My poor honey."

"Time is it?" I asked, not really feeling like getting up and looking.

"One thirty or so, I think."

I didn't say anything. I laid there without moving, and soon, I felt completely exhausted. I heard Mom speak, but I don't know what she said. I mumbled a response of some kind then fell asleep.

***

When I awakened, Mom's body nestled into mine, her butt against my crotch. I had an angry boner, and it was riding up her ass. Immediately, I drew back from her, and she stirred.

This time, my erection didn't bother me like before. I knew it was one of those automatic sleep boners. Didn't have anything to do with her.

Better not have, I thought.

Looking around, I saw that it was still light out. The clock read 4:15.

The fuel gauge was nearing one-quarter tank.

"Shit," I said.

"Huh? What? What is it, honey?" Mom turned to me.

"Getting lower on gas."

"Please don't curse," she said. The, she looked at the gauge. "Should we shut it off?"

I thought about it. "Maybe."

"But, no, we need to put something out first—like you said. Then you'll need to warm up. Let's leave it on for now," she suggested.

I nodded. "Maybe sooner than later I should go. Anyone working might be heading home soon."

Mom didn't speak. She stared at me for a moment, and then said, "Honey, I'm not sure it's worth it—putting up something."

"Why not?"

"The road. That road leads to our development, and not really anywhere else—oh, the old quarry, I suppose, but no one goes there. There are only six homes in Quail Valley, and that includes ours. I just...I don't think it's worth you getting cold again."

"What else can we do, though?"

"I hate to say this, but I think we should stay in the car, conserve gas, and wait out the storm. It'll end tomorrow, and the radio says the temperature will shoot up to the low thirties by the tomorrow afternoon. We could walk it then."

"Maybe. But, Mom, there's going to be snowplows. Emergency vehicles. Somebody's going to check out Quail Valley. A cop. Somebody."

"Maybe."

"Let's at least see if we have anything to use."

She agreed. She went up front, and I dug around in the back. Eventually, I found four orange plastic road emergency triangles in a small storage bin where the spare tire tools were located.

"These," I said.

"Will the snow be too deep?"

I shrugged. "Better than nothing."

She nodded.

My clothes were not yet dry, but I put them on. Moving back to the passenger seat, I took a few deep breaths, steeling myself for what I knew was coming. Then, I had an idea. "Mom, can I have your socks for my hands?"

"Sure," she said, and she slipped off her shoes, tugged each sock free, and handed them to me. "What about something for your face?" she asked. Before I could respond, she said, "Wait. Here." She took off her coat and handed it to me.

I held it up, considering how I might use it. Then, I tied the sleeves behind my head so that the back collar was just below my eyes. The knot didn't hold; the material was just too slick.

"Let me," Mom said.

I turned around for her.

She tried tying it—nothing. "There's not enough for a double knot."

"Forget it, Mom."

"No. No. You need something." She seemed to consider an idea for a second, and then she pulled her shirt over her head and off. All that remained was her sports bra.

"What are...?" I glanced at her breasts, and then her bare stomach. The fuck am I doing? I handed her coat back, turning away.

She gave me the shirt, saying, "Wrap it around your face." She took the coat and put it back on.

I tied her shirt over my face. Then, I reached for the door.

"Wait," Mom said. She handed her water bottle to me, lid off. "Fill it with snow. We need drinking water."

I nodded.

As quickly as I could, I opened the door and scooped snow into the bottle. Closing the door, I handed it to her.

She screwed the lid on and set it on the dashboard.

"I'm going."

She nodded.

Road triangles in hand, I threw open the door and bolted out.

The ascent was easier this time, but it was colder and gustier. At the top, there was still no sign of any other cars having passed by.

I took one of the triangles and set it down. It vanished under the snow. The shit was too deep.

I needed to clear off a space. A stretch of about fifty or sixty feet, I thought, ought to do it. Maybe a foot or two wide. So, I began shuffling and drawing my feet across the snow to plow it off. Back and forth I went, clearing it as best I could.

My body began shivering again.

It wasn't working, my method. I got down on my hands and knees and pushed the snow with my arm, dragging it along the path I wanted to use for the markers. It took longer, but it was more effective.

This was taking way too long. Mom, I thought, was probably getting worried.

Fuck it. I needed to finish. I kept plowing that snow. There was just so fucking much.

It must have taken me near fifteen minutes before I was able to set out the triangles. They each had a little folded-up stand that my fingers, numb and unresponsive, could only barely deploy. I set them in a line, pointed from the side of the road, toward the curve, and with the last one over the side, each about 20 feet apart.

Good enough.

Colder than I've ever been in my life, I set off back down that hill.

When I neared the car, I could see Mom's hand frantically rubbing circles inside the windshield to help her see out. Her door opened, and I heard her yell for me.

I called back, heading straight for her door. There was no way I would be able to open a car door on my own.

She made space and helped me inside.

"Oh, no! Oh, honey! Get in the back. Here, let me help you."

Somehow I made it into the back. Mom threw the blanket over me and began to reach under and pull off the snowy clothes. She took off everything except for my underwear. She stripped off her own coat, slid under the blanket, and laid on me, rubbing furiously.

"Getting warmer, honey?" she asked.

I didn't respond.

"Don't talk. Just be still. I've got you."

I felt her climb off me, and a few moments later her warm bare legs hugged my own. She had removed her yoga pants. She slid her body along mine.

I was too cold to think about how much like fucking it must have looked.

After a few minutes, she put me on my side. She laid on hers, facing me. She took my hands and put them between her thighs. Her body down there was a furnace, and my hands felt better almost instantly.

She used her own hands to rub my chest, stomach, and shoulders.

After a minute or two, she felt my face and said, "Oh, my goodness!"

She pulled my face to her bra, rubbing my ears, neck, and head gently. I kept my hands inside her thighs.

A few minutes passed, and then Mom said, "Now, your feet, honey." She tucked the blanket around my chest and head. The car lurched as she slid down. She put my feet between her thighs with a little "Ah! Cold." Then, she hugged my legs, kneading the backs and fronts of my thighs. I could feel her forehead against the front of my underwear.

I was improving enough to begin to feel uncomfortable.

"Mom," I began.

"Shush, honey. You're still cold. Let me warm you up."

She hugged my legs tighter, and her forehead pressed into my balls.

I took in a breath. No. Fuck. I pinched my face into a grimace. No. Fuck, no.

It didn't matter. I was getting a boner.

"Mom, let me just..."

"Be still, honey."

Her fingers slid over my butt and back down. They slid over the sides of my legs to the front. Massaging, Mom's hands worked up my thighs to my underwear. Her fingertip danced just under the elastic before sliding down toward my knees and calves.

My cock grew against her forehead. It was getting way too obvious.

That was it. Enough. I rolled away from her, giving her my back.

She didn't move or speak for several seconds. "I didn't mean to—to embarrass you, honey," she said, quietly.

"Yeah, no. I know," I said. "Thanks for—for helping get me warm again. It really helps."

She snuggled against me, and her light fingers stroked my chest. "Well, I can't let you freeze."

I felt her breasts against my back. They were full and firm.

Pinching my eyes shut. I tried to block it all out—her tits, those smooth feminine legs against mine, the delicate caress of her fingers on my stomach.

My cock stretched my underwear. It was like a rocket had been launched inside of it. I reached down and adjusted my thrumming boner. It was so hard that it wouldn't lean left or right. Nothing was comfortable, so I drew it up against my stomach, letting the elastic waistband pin the shaft to my belly.

I needed to think about something else. Rescue or something. I asked, "Mom, when do you think Pete will get concerned, come looking for us?"

"He's in Coeur D'Alene visiting his parents."

"Oh," I muttered. "But, won't he call?"

Mom's hands stopped on my chest. I heard her breathe, and she said, "He may have called already. Texted, maybe. For sure, he'll call tonight. I guess it's possible if he hasn't heard back from me by, say ten or so, he may try to reach you."

"Yeah?"

"If he can't reach you, he might get worried and send someone to the house," she said. "But, that's a best-case scenario. I think it more likely he wouldn't start worrying until tomorrow sometime."

Her hands resumed, and she changed her touches. Instead of light circles, she started long strokes up and down my chest.

Oh, shit. Wait.

Before I could stop her, those fingers crossed down my stomach and her pinky finger bumped into the tip of my cock. I felt Mom flinch, and her hand slid back up to my chest.