[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
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The ad was one he'd later regret seeing: "Come affirm your vows in Las Vegas. If you are willing to be married, have a reception and honeymoon, all on camera and IN THE NUDE, you will get all expenses paid including roundtrip airfare, transfers, hotel suite, license, $10,000 in chips and $10,000 in cash."
It would be limited to the first 20 couples that are the 'right type' who apply. The writer of the story quoted his inside source that the 1st 20 'hot couples' would be picked.
At the time, I had just turned 18 with two months to find a job and a new place to live. My father Mal was 48. He ran four Laundromats which had been part of a lucrative gift to my mother from her family upon the marriage. He had hit hard times and needed that $20,000 to pay off some debts of his own making. Worse, his lenders were not bankers and wouldn't stand for 'any more crap': they just wanted their money.
My beautiful mother, Sue, 39, was unaware of all this. She had been sort of pushed into this marriage for social reasons. Unfortunately, after a decade or two, her husband hadn't aged well. So, while she toiled managing all four Laundromats with underpaid assistants filling in, he sat at the central office and did little but oversee a disaster. The only benefit to all of this was that mom had to do so many things. It was all like a 'super gym' involving walking the properties, lifting detergent shipments, and even cleaning up. She must have been the healthiest 39 year-old in the city, with not only a dazzling figure but perfect body tone.
Besides bodybuilding contests there are things called 'fitness contests' where women would display their fantastic figures, muscle tone and overall physical conditioning. I had prevailed on mom, secretly, to enter a 'Mrs. Fitness-master over 40' contest and she won going away. Her work regimen was so hard that she didn't have to diet or lift a single barbell either. The net effect of that little contest was $1,000 prize for mom and an eternal hard-on for me in regard to her thereafter. After seeing mom come down the runway in a thong bikini, I was 'ruined' for other women. Thereafter, I would get hard if mom entered a room...or simply had her name mentioned.
Now an insane contest came along from Vegas. My father HAD to get that contest money or else some big guys he owed money to would be quite unhappy. Knowing he had to enter, but also knowing that he had to be chosen, he brought mom and me together for an announcement:
Father [Mal]: "I know I've mentioned that Vegas contest before. Well, we need the money, badly, and in a hurry. I've already used all of Sue's relatives for loans, some of which I paid back, some of which I haven't. As a result, my avenues of borrowing have really narrowed. We can have funds in three weeks with this Vegas contest thing; that's better than the banks, who told me 'never'. So what I propose is that your mother and I get a divorce here. We then go to Vegas with Jimmy as best man. If you read the general terms in the ad: 'if you provide a best man, also in the buff, and also in the honeymoon, you get double or $40,000 total.' What's really neat is that we just have to send in a picture of the couple to be married. So, I will send a picture of you two as if you were the ones. We are much more likely to be picked that way. Later, we can claim a simple mistake in picture selection."
Well, it seemed to my mother and me to be the craziest, most hare-brained idea since New Coke or the AMC Pacer. But, we both knew him so we weren't surprised. He had already filed for divorce (just needing mom's signature) and had his digital camera at the ready for that entry picture of the two of us. It was a subtle point but I carefully checked the box where 'maiden name restored?' was asked; I marked yes for my mom to get her maiden name back.
That was how the blessed divorce was filed and accepted. Mom was now single and free from him (due to his absurd idea). The digital confirmation by e-mail gave me my first real erection ever, a huge ten inch edifice that shocked even me. Gazing upon that tool which could do some 'powerful persuading' to a woman unsure of whom to sleep with, I vowed that Mr. Johnson would rest within the warm, tight, comforting walls of my mother's wondrous secret place. I knew that such a place would have a garden attached, with fertile ground. I could think of nothing better than to plant my copious supply of seed upon the fertile ground and watch something grow. The idea of getting my own mother pregnant with my baby...to fill those perfect breasts with warm, sweet mother's milk...to have her belly swollen with my child...was never a dream of mine. I realized it was an impossible fantasy, so I avoided the thought. Now, however, somehow the impossible was becoming possible, with dream becoming reality.
Well, the entry went in digitally and was accepted within 24 hours. We got our tickets and were on our way. During the flight I read the downloaded details of the offer, something that neither of my parents had done. The terms clearly stated that if the best man was to be included, increasing the prize money, then he would HAVE to be included in all aspects, INCLUDING the honeymoon. [The sponsoring company managers weren't fools; if they were shelling out more, then they wanted something spicier on film.] I did not point out this 'technicality' to my parents, which might have 'burst their bubble' and ended the whole thing. Another fine point would definitely have turned them off: if at any point the bride wanted to switch to the best man, she could with complete impunity, and the prize money would remain with her.
During the flight, the three of us were separated. It was pure kismet, but he was kept in coach while we were forced by overbooking to go to First class. Once we sat down I made my first move: I took my mother's hand and held it. She looked at our hands, then me, then our hands, puzzled. Well, I was claiming his possession (mom). A 1,000 mile journey begins with one step.
By the end of the flight, I was perfectly timing the front cabin stewardess' movements. I snuck in some languid caresses of my mother's perfect breasts, plus some hands up the skirt, and of course, some lingering kisses. My blessed mother was not shy either. Her demure hand was on top of my manhood. She outlined and squeezed it; to her thrill, it started growing. She continued her outlining and squeezing, finally feeling its full manly ten inch length. Mom whispered to me that she was so fucking horny. That's why she never once said 'stop' to any of my rude advances. I cannot say that we joined 'the mile high club' (an impossibility in a normal jet), but we sure had fun when mom had to pass in front of me to use the lavatory. There was no one in front of us, and she must've taken three minutes just to cross in front of my seat, effectively giving me a lap dance. Umm, papa likes.
