The Rambler part 3 - Sex Stories

The Rambler part 3

... the hips to keep myself inside her." "So we stood like that, Mom flopped over, hair hanging down to the floor, and me with my cock still plugged inside her. I'm not sure when I started, but I realized that I was no longer just holding Mom up. I was swaying in a circle, with a steady rhythm. I was starting to fuck her again." "She just let it happen for awhile but then she must have consciously realized what I was doing and she tried to pull away but she quickly ran into the cupboards and I pressed her so the back of her head was against them. She ducked closer to the floor but I followed, squatting to keep myself deep within her. She couldn't get away, not with the iron grip I had on her hips." "I started gouging into her then, really rooting her. My cock felt huge, like it wasn't mine. I felt like a star in a porn flick wielding a weapon that women couldn't get enough of, and Mom was the sexiest woman you could ever fuck." She is, you know," he looked directly at me. "Her pussy has the most fantastic feel to it," he said, adding a moment later, "Especially from behind." "We were fucking so hard that Mom's head slid along the cupboards and she ended up on her knees with me squatting behind her, our backs to the kitchen doorway and the living room, until I finally unloaded in her again." "We were just finishing up the dishes when Dad brought his dishes in halfway through his show. It seemed like I'd been fucking her for hours but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes ...

... once we got started. And we did it twice at that. The first one couldn't have taken more than two minutes," he laughed. We got back on the road after that. "What a bummer," Tim said. "What?" I asked, turning the music back up, thinking the opposite, that we were both back on track. "Getting kicked out of the drive-in," he said. "What are we going to do now. We can't keep doing it in the kitchen. We'll get caught." "Right," I agreed. "Anyway,' Tim said. "It was more fun together." "Right," I agreed again. We drove on. The miles passed, beautiful, sunny countryside. "We'll go for a drive," I said, suddenly inspired. "We are on a drive," Tim looked at me like I was on something. "Exactly," I said. "Sunday. We'll go for a Sunday drive, with our moms." Tim looked at me, and I knew then what Einstein must have felt like when people looked at him. "Right on," Tim agreed enthusiastically, his hand slipping between his legs again. We both laughed uproariously. * * * * * * * That was Thursday. That night, I didn't offer to help Mom with the dishes. After listening to Tim's story, I was afraid I'd try to lift Mom's skirt and shove it in. No. I needed to give Mom some distance after what had happened. The next day, I was out all day looking for another part-time job and I went to the local theater to see a movie. Saturday, I was the model son, helping out around the yard. Mom and Dad went out to dinner that night with some friends but I was still up when they got home. It turned out that ...