Luggage rattles in the trunk as Dominique cruises the highway at 120 km/h. Regulator hums steady. Post-divorce life feels fresh. We’re heading 300 km to our son’s country house party. No one knows us here. Anonymity hits hard in this endless asphalt blur. Summer dress hugs my thighs, riding up as I sit. He steals glances. I smile, undo the bottom button. Tease. Inner thighs flash pale skin. His eyes widen. ‘Watch the road,’ I purr, voice husky. Another button pops. Flesh exposed. He swerves slightly. I rise, shimmy panties off discreetly. Damp lace lands on the gear stick. Car surges past limits. ‘Where’s that rest area?’ he mutters. Sign appears. Wooded lot, half-empty. He parks deep in trees, away from trucks. Door barely clicks shut before his hand clamps my thigh.
Fingers dig in, rough. He lunges, lips crash mine. Buttons fly open. Dress gapes. Tits spill free, nipples hard. He sucks one, bites. Hand dives between legs. Pussy soaked already. Fingers plunge, thumb circles clit. I gasp. He drops low, awkward in car seat. Legs spread wide over console. Tongue laps folds, sucks clit. No mercy. I buck, grip his hair. Cum hard, thighs quake, juices flood his mouth. He rises, cock tenting pants. I unzip, swallow him deep. Salty pre-cum coats tongue. Bob fast, hand pumps base. He groans, floods my throat. Swallow every drop. Wipe lips. Fix dress. Drive on, air thick with sex scent.
The Stopover
Son greets us warm hugs. Party buzzes. He grins sheepish: ‘Short on rooms. Double bed for you two. Couch if needed.’ We fake shock, burst laughing. Young ones fooled. Slip to room. Bags drop. Shower together, soapy hands roam. No bra tonight under long dress. ‘No panties?’ he begs. ‘You too,’ I counter. He strips boxers. Evening tame: caresses, kisses at party. Light food, drinks. Bed later, spoons innocent. Morning wood pokes my ass. Gland nudges wet lips. Slides between, teasing. I reach back, guide him in. Pussy stretches around thick cock. Slow, deep thrusts. No slamming–noise risks. Hand cups tit, pinches nipple. Fingers grind clit. Builds forever. Vagina clenches, vibrates. I bite pillow, cum shaking. He unloads deep, pulsing hot. Rest of stay: same ritual. Teases, morning fucks, night cuddles.
Bags zipped Sunday. Hugs all. Hand over house keys? Nah, just wave. Back on highway, cruise control on. Pussy still tender. His cum lingers inside. Grins exchanged. Transit fling over. Life separate, but this memory burns. Urgency of departure fuels the thrill. Next stopover? Who knows.