After being mistaken as a married couple in Canada, my mom and I were driving to our first real estate opportunity. The two of us would be pretending to be man and wife just an hour away from our American home. My heart was pounding as we drove to meet the couple who had promised to share two listings with us.
My mom on the other hand seemed composed and eager. She was rarely out of control. She had on a pair of translucent black nylons, with a snug long sweater ending mid-thigh. Her legs looked great as she sat beside me in the car, her sweater riding up, her round ass the only thing keeping it in place. Some stylish high heels were strapped to her feet. The whole package looked hip and professional.
I got more and more nervous as we approached the first house. I finally began to sense some nerves with my mom as well. Shots of adrenaline had begun to pump through our bodies as the realization set in. What we were doing was wrong. Not only that, it was in public. While nobody should recognize us in Canada, what if someone did? Living out a lie was becoming more difficult than we had thought.
Becoming more concerned as we neared the house, I asked my mom, "So exactly how is this going to work?"
"Good question, son. Just let me take the lead. I know what I am doing. I can do most of the talking. Just don't call me mom, OK?" She looked at me like I was in elementary school again, looking for comprehension.
"Got it," I replied, not sure what I had gotten myself into.
As we pulled up to the house, the couple was on the front porch waiting for us. They looked to be in their late 30's.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" My mom said, pulling a ring out of her pocket. "This was your father's first wedding ring before we upgraded. I hope it fits!"
"What finger do I put it on!" I asked in a quick panic.
She quickly shoved it on my ring finger. It took some doing, but eventually got it past my knuckle.
The names of the real estate couple were John and Angela. They seemed warm and friendly, which made things easier for us. It was exhilarating to actually be pretending that I was married to my mom. She shared some interesting made up information about us, and I tried to play the part. We entered the house and they began showing it to us. They assumed they were much older than us, and appeared to take on a mentoring role.
As we walked out on the back porch, we followed John and Angela who were now holding hands like we were all on vacation. My mom slipped her hand into mine as they led us to the pool house. A shot of electricity went through my body. We had never held hands like that. We had rarely been affectionate with each other. Her hand was so soft and tender, seeming to fit perfectly in mine.
I tried to pay attention to what John and Angela were saying, but I was distracted standing next to my mom. I had never been this close to her like that. Her perfume tickled my nose. Occasionally her body would connect with mine as we stood together. One time I felt her left breast graze my arm through her sweater, my mom quickly pulling away. Despite being somewhat terrified by the sordid ordeal, I had to admit I was getting turned on.
The couple drove us to the other house for another tour, and then the four of us had lunch together. Like my mom had said, she took the lead and helped me with all of the necessary social cues. Sitting at lunch together, she occasionally put her hand on my leg or shoulder, laughing at a joke I said. It seemed like things were going well. We had made our first Canadian friends in John and Angela. They dropped us off back at the first house and we said our goodbyes.
Entering the first house again, my mom wanted to prepare to list it. Now free from the other couple, she took off her heels and spun freely around in the home's expansive living room. Her free exuberance was neat to see, her dreams of doing real estate in Canada coming true.
As she bounced around the room, her sweater rode up higher on her legs, no longer concerned about others. Kneeling down at times, her sweater acted more like a miniskirt. My cock hardened as I feasted on her round ass cheeks, her sweater stretched tight about them, highlighting her generous curves. My eyes often wandered to the healthy gap between her toned thighs. I had lusted after her for years. Now she was my pretend wife, though I couldn't really touch her like I wanted to.
My mom was certainly enjoying herself. She had listed houses before, but never as nice as this one. In her delight, she was unaware of how her movements were putting on a show for her son. She noticed me standing still, my thoughts in another place. A place that was undressing her in my mind. She skipped over to me, her large breasts bouncing under her sweater. She put her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes.
"Are you alright, Dylan? Was today OK?" she asked, with sincere concern on her face.
