Loopy looked at the fuel gauge. They were running close to empty. He slowed, pulled to a stop, then backed into a gravel driveway."Where are we going?" Elsie asked."Back the road a little. We need gas."Elsie pondered this. "Gas is what you put in this vehicle for fuel? But it's a liquid. Why do you call it gas?" Short for gasoline," Loopy said. "You really don't know shit, do you?"He pulled the truck up to one of the pumps, stepped out and looked around. No one was outside, so he went into the store. It was cooler than outside, thanks to a wheezy window air conditioner, and dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw a thin man in bib overalls standing behind a counter."Howdy," Loopy said. "I need some gas. Do I pump it myself?"The man behind the counter looked past him at the door and said nothing. Loopy turned and looked behind him. Elsie was standing in the doorway. She had shed his shirt, so her bloody tank top, filled with her magnificent breasts, was on full. Today's the psychologist appointment!"There was a certain pleading in Susan's voice that could get Alan to do what she wanted. But he was determined to try being more aggressive. Plus, a "Bad Alan" urge was welling up inside of him. So he simply pulled the zipper on her back and then yanked her dress off her shoulders and all the way down to the floor.She squealed, "Son! Please!" She twisted and squirmed in his grip, but made no real effort to get away.He reached up her body, pulled her shirt up to her armpits, and squeezed her ample tit-flesh. He knew that would help her resolve weaken in a hurry. "Sorry, Mom. Rules are rules. What are you supposed to wear when cooking breakfast?"Susan loved how he overruled her so authoritatively. She said in an orgasmically strained voice, "Whatever you tell me to wear! You're the boss." She stepped back into him until her ass found his crotch. Then she shamelessly ground her hips against his unleashed boner.Sensing whatever resistance she'd had.
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