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Two Moms, Two Laps, Two Hours
By Tx Tall Tales
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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.

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"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.

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