Forbidden Backseat: Under My Parents’ Nose

On my 20th birthday, Mom took me on a trip with our neighbor Charles and his son Francis. Luggage filled the back seat, leaving so little room that I had to sit on Francis's lap. Every bump in the road rubbed my bottom against his thighs. I kept my eyes fixed on his dad at the wheel and my mom in the passenger seat. Suddenly, something huge and burning hot pressed between my buttocks... ***** 30 minutes earlier, Mom had crammed all our camping gear into the trunk and back seat. That left only the driver's seat, the front passenger seat, and one seat in the back. But there were four of us. "Mom, we're a seat short." I frowned at the mountain of luggage in the back, wondering how to persuade her to leave a few things at home and make room. Mom gave an apologetic smile. "But everything we need them all. As for the seats... why don't we squeeze in together?" "No," Charles said immediately. "I'll drive. Janice, you sit up front. Hester, would you mind sitting on Francis's lap?" My eyes widened, and I looked toward Francis, who was leaning against the front of the car. The 20-year-old young man was hot. We grew up together. We even knew how many times we had wet the bed before we were 5. But with something going on between my mom and his dad, we weren't exactly close anymore. In fact, he seemed to wish I'd disappear from his life altogether. "Dad, are you serious?" Francis folded his arms, looking annoyed. "If there's no room, just leave her at home." I pressed my lips together, briefly stung by the humiliation. I knew he didn't like me. I hadn't realized he hated me so much... "It's Hester's birthday! This whole camping trip is to celebrate. We're certainly not going without her!" Charles opened the passenger door. "Come on. Let's get moving." Francis frowned, snorted at me, and reluctantly climbed into the cramped back seat. Mom noticed his displeasure, but she said nothing and got into the front passenger seat. No one seemed to care what I wanted. In the end, I curled up on Francis's lap, wedged into the tiny gap between him and the driver's seat. My face was almost pressed against the seatback. Too uncomfortable, I tried to adjust my position. Two large hands clamped around my waist. There was fabric between us, but it felt as though his palms were resting directly against my skin. "Stop squirming and sit still, or I'll throw you out!" Francis warned, his hot breath brushing behind my ear. I froze. Francis meant what he said. Hurt and humiliated as I felt, I didn't dare move again. The car pulled away, heading for the campground. I kept as much distance between us as I could, afraid of annoying him further. Silently, I prayed we'd get there quickly and without trouble so I could get out and breathe. But the more desperately I wanted something, the less likely God seemed to grant it. He played a cruel joke on me. I'd gotten up early and was just drifting off when the car hit a rough stretch of road. It bounced sharply, then dropped, throwing me down between Francis's thighs. I stiffened. Something hard and burning hot was pressing against the cleft of my bottom.