On a straight, flat stretch of the road, mom glanced at me quickly, and I felt her legs spread. Spread as wide as the crowded bus would allow. When she did that her hand moved down my waist and to the side of my hip. She rested her head on my shoulder, her mouth near my ear. I could hear her breathing deepen.
I curled my fingers, letting them under the hem of her t-shirt and touching the inside of her right thigh. So soft, so warm. Mom's hand moved more. I slid my fingers up the inside of my mother's thigh and felt the tickle of hair. My c**k was so hard, it hurt. Mom's fingers barely touched the bulge in my suit. I moved my fingers up.
More hair, but in the middle. No, can't be. I looked down. Mom's n*****s poked into my chest, and I saw no straps under the shoulders of her t-shirt. In
