Planning While Traveling

I have a plan.

But it is a crazy plan and as everyone knows: plans are easy, execution is not.

How do I do this? I can’t say to my wife, “By the way, we are moving to an Oedipal Zone where you will be our son’s property to protect you from the Free Use Laws.” Probably a good way to get beaten and kicked to the curb, literally, as we are driving on the interstate.

The biggest barrier to my plan is, obviously, the people. Given the right circumstances and conversation, Jennie might be convinced about this plan, but could she live it? Could she develop that sort of relationship with James? She obviously loves him, but probably not in the way that we need. Can I lead her there, and if so, how?

And James. Could he ever see his mother like that? Probably. Horny boys are easy to influence. Is he horny for his mother? It felt weird watching him as we packed up our essential belongings left by the moving company. What father looks to see if his son is aroused by his mother? James is a good boy... well, man, now that he’s finished school, and all I could see was a helpful, caring relationship between mother and son.

And then there is Evie, Sylvie, and Miles. How would…?

RRRIINNNGGG. I hit the hands-free button.

“Hello,” I address the nothingness around me.

“Hey, it’s Roy. You guys on the road?” the car’s sound system queries.

“Hey man, yeah. Been driving…”

“Hi, ‘Uncle’ Roy.” Evie leans forward against the back of my seat, interrupting loudly. I look at my wife and we both roll our eyes. Evie’s crush on Roy is tenacious, even after her first boyfriend.

“Is that Evie? How’s it, girl? I need to talk to your dad for a bit. That alright?”

“Yay, you knew it was me. Good. Come visit us soon.” Evie sits back, elated that she was recognized.

“Roy, we should be arriving in Cybele Grove about noon tomorrow. How go the arrangements on your end?”

“Bad news first. A couple of states have mandated all women ages 18-25 as free use…”

“Oh, my god!” gasps my wife. I look at my wife in surprise for swearing. She blushes.

“Not to worry,” continues Roy. “You don’t have badges, but just in case keep your ID’s handy as your state isn’t one of them. I might be moving my family up to join you, if this works out.

Now, I was able to secure you a 5-bedroom home. From the pictures it looks really nice, and I was able to talk to the neighbor, a Clarke Meager. He said he would want that home if he didn’t already have one, and the neighborhood is great. He looks forward to meeting you, and offered to give your family a tour once you arrive.

The house is yours for a week, and if you decide to stay, can be yours permanently for a great rate. The moving truck will get there a day after you.”

“You rock, Roy. Thanks, man. Couldn’t have done this on short notice without you.”

“We need to stick together. I should arrive at the end of the week with the papers to finalize everything…”

“Yay, you are coming to visit us. I can’t wait to see you,” squeals Evie. Jennie turns to glare at her.

“I’ll see you all soon. Drive safe,” and Roy hangs up.

“Roy sure is a great friend, and everything seems to be working out. So, you can relax, dear,” Jennie soothes as she caresses my arm.

I smile at her and then mumble to myself, “yeah, that’s the easy part…” As my mind mulls trying to convince my family.

“What, dear?” Jennie asks.

“Uhhh… just saying that we should eat lunch and then have a pit stop in an hour, yeah?”

“Right,” Jennie opens the cooler and passes out the sandwiches we had packed.

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Our first pit stop is a mistake.

If I had thought about the Free Use Laws in relation to a truck stop, it would have been obvious. But I didn’t.

All seemed well at first. We pulled in, parked, and tumbled out of the minivan. We pushed in the entrance, and that was when our mistake smacked us between the eyes.

“Oh, my god,” again my wife curses, but we are too stunned to react.

From everywhere comes the moans and grunts of people having sex. Looking to the right into the cafe, I can see a waitress leaning over a table while a man in the booth next to her fondles her exposed breasts. Another trucker is behind her, rutting into her bare buttocks while he holds up her skirt. Under another table, a woman is giving oral sex to a seated couple that are passionately kissing.

Straight ahead in the truck parts store, a couple of women are bent over a display using their hands on the penises of the men on the other side, while two other men spank their exposed bottoms with windshield wipers. And off to the left in the minimart, the cashier is grunting, “If you let me cum on yer tits, I’ll give you the smokes,” to the woman kneeling in front of him, running his penis through her cleavage.

“Crap, we are here now. The bathrooms are on the other side of the minimart. Get there, get done, and let’s get out of here. Move it,” I command under my breath to the rest. Luckily, one of the aisles is unoccupied, and we make it to the bathrooms. The boys and I finish and we wait outside the short hallway, keeping our eyes averted. The girls tumble out of the women’s bathroom, scurrying up to us.

“There were three men in there using a woman. The one waiting his turn by the sinks asked if I wanted to join them,” Jennie spills to us. She seems oddly out of breath.

“Done, right? Let’s just get out of here. Boys lead the way.” Jennie nods and we head back through the minimart with the women in the middle. This time, though, every aisle is occupied. My boys and girls make it safely down the middle aisle, but as my wife passes the 6-foot 4-inch bear perusing the shelves, he turns in my direction. His eyes must have caught the flutter of my wife’s pastel wrap-around travel dress, because I watch his eyes follow as he turns 270 degrees. His paw swings up and grabs the center of my wife’s rear. I see his middle finger dig so far into my wife’s buttcrack that he is probably tapping her vagina, and the rest of his paw grabs enough buttock to stop my wife mid-step.

“Eeeeekkkk!” Jennie somehow hops and twirls around to face her molester, dislodging the grasping hand. I’m standing next to the trucker, looking up into his astonished face. Before I can react, I see his face crack into a smile and a sparkle lights up his blue eyes.

In a southern drawl, “apologies, ma’am. I see you aren’t wearing a clip. Forgive me,” and he turns and walks away. The audacity of the act, followed by such a sincere apology left me speechless, and all I can think is that he looked like a western version of Daniel Craig. I look to my wife to find her watching the giant disappear into the bathrooms with an odd look in her eyes, almost a hunger.

As we cross the parking lot, my wife says, “Could you open the trunk, please, dear?”

“What for?” I ask as I dig into my pocket for the keys. I adjust my boxers a bit as I do. Odd, must have gotten twisted a little.

“I need to get something from my suitcase.”

“Oh, ok.” I press the unlock key, and then the buttons to open the side doors and the back hatch.

The rest of us get settled as Jennie closes the back hatch and then climbs into her passenger seat. As I look past Jennie to pull out of the truck stop, I see a bit of cloth poking out of her clenched fist in her lap. Odd, but I’m focused on getting us back onto the interstate.

Once we are going on the interstate, Jennie looks back and sees that the kids are glued to their screens, except she can’t see James who is seated directly behind her. Her shifting around catches my attention and I glance over to see her raise her hips, hook her thumbs under the sides of her skirt, and skin off her panties. I look to the road, then back over in time to catch her eye as she raises up from retrieving her panties from the floor. I quirk an eyebrow at her, then extend my hand toward her, open, palm up. I look to the road again as I wait, the heartbeat it takes, for her to give in. She sighs, then I feel the drenched, moist cloth in my hand. It is soaked, and as I look over at it, I sense a motion in my periphery. I look back at James. He is staring at the frilly, blue panties in my hand, not even noticing that I saw him. As I turn back to the road, I see Jennie doing the reverse maneuvers to pull up the clean panties she had retrieved from her suitcase.

On an impulse, I clench my fist and squeeze the fabric in my hand. It is so sopping wet that rivulets of Jennie’s juices run down my fingers, around my hand, and collect into a droplet that hangs, pulling at the hairs on the back of my hand. I let it hang there a half-second while Jennie is distracted, then lift my hand up to my nose and smell the sodden, musky scent of her arousal. The droplet swings, splattering against my arm. I drop the panties onto the seat between my legs.

“I’ll keep this right here,” I say, turning to Jennie.

“Hah, I bet you will,” she rolls her eyes and then looks out her window, probably imagining a certain cowboy Daniel Craig. I glance back at James to see him adjusting his pants, trying to get comfortable. I know he saw the whole show, and I think that maybe James could be alright with this plan.