Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...

Every time the car hit a bump, my eighteen-year-old stepson's burning hand pushed another inch up under my skirt. I bit down on the blanket because my fifty-year-old husband was sitting in front of us driving like nothing was wrong. If I'd known what the backseat of that road trip was about to become, I would've died before ever saying a word...