Novel & Cerita Backseat Mommy

Heather said as she bent over the dresser to fix her lipstick. Becky watched her walk out of the room and she bit back the curse words she wanted to yell. The woman hadn’t even asked about Abby or where they had been. How could she even call herself a mother with the way she had such little regard for her daughter? Carrying a child for nine months did not make you a mother, it just made you an incubator.

“I don’t get why I have to sit in the middle when I’ve done nothing wrong,” Rina complained as she buckled her seatbelt. “You’ve got the skinniest butt, Sis,” Ray stated. Mom glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Kimi’s pregnant, so she gets shot-gun.” Kimi turned and stuck her tongue out. “All the more reason she should be squished. Her or your tattooed son,” Rina grumbled. “Don’t worry, my darling good child, your time will come,” Mom smirked.

“And because I need to teach my stepson how to use that beautiful cock. Come on. Now.” He pulls into the rest stop so fast the tires squeal. It is mostly empty — a few trucks at the far end, a minivan with a family heading into the building. We are parked in a corner, shaded by trees. Private enough. Beckett climbs into the backseat with me, his huge cock bobbing obscenely, the fat head shiny and angry. I grab him by the shirt and pull him on top of me, spreading my legs wide so my dripping cunt is open and ready, my inner thighs glistening with my juices.

“It’s nice to see you again.” “You, too,” I replied, shaking it, thankful no one said anything stupid about “too bad it’s under these circumstances.” Some baggage guys were loading our luggage into the back of the large SUV Jamie had apparently driven over to pick us up, and we all piled in. I sat in the very back with my mom, and we hadn’t gotten very far when she reached over and grabbed my hand. I didn’t know if this was for my benefit or her own, but I didn’t let go.

Because if we got just a little too close for their comfort, they would hunt us down, seeing us as rogues that threaten the safety of their pack. I close the picnic basket and go to help my mother up from her seat. I helped her to our car, a blue 2004 Toyota Yaris that was barely holding itself together. But it did the job that we needed it for. I helped my mother into the passenger seat, making sure the pillows were where it made her the most comfortable. Whilst also making her tall enough to see the road. She was a terrible back seat driver with even worse road rage. When we arrived in the forest, we parked our car under a tree near the edge.

"Mom, Mom, please be okay!" As they rushed to the hospital, the tension in the car was so high. Noah's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched in concentration. Sophia sat beside him, her eyes darting between the road and Harriet's pale face in the backseat. Noah held his mother's hand, his eyes were filled with worry. The sirens blared as they sped through the streets, the ambulance lights flashed in the rearview mirror. This wasn't the way anyone thought their Saturday would go.

I told her I was too tired, but she promised to take one of my shifts whenever I wanted her to. To cut the story short, I'm currently driving with four kids in the back seat of my minivan to Stella’s grandmother’s house. “Mommy,” Salvador calls out from the back seat. “Yes, baby,” I try my best not to exceed the speed limit. “Why is a weird-looking van following us?” Salvador spoke and on instinct I turn to the car.

Jayden was still quiet, focused on something on his phone. I climbed to the back seat. Jayden didn't raise his head. I sighed, this was as embarrassing as it was difficult. I took off the buttons of my blouse but not completely, just enough to make my tïts accessible. I was so grateful I was not wearing a brá. “Jayden.” I called from the back seat, “Could you please come help me with something in the back?” I had just recently gotten a mom’s truck thanks to my toddler, and I was so grateful for how spacious the truck was.

I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. I just need to hear some more reassurance that I'm not the worst mother on the fucking planet right now. Mason's hand finds mine, and he squeezes it firmly. "Nobody's gonna touch her in there." I nod and slide into the backseat without another word. The drive is quiet. Just the low rumble of War's bike behind us and the steady, frantic thump of my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest. I stare out the window, watching trees smear into shadow and blur. I count the spaces between streetlights like it'll keep my mind from going where it wants to go.