Real Estate Power Couple Ch 05

My mom and I continued to travel up to Canada once or twice a week to work on her real estate business. Pretending to be a married couple, we had become a fierce team. She was talented at staging homes in a way that made them sell fast. Buyers were also convinced to buy their perfect home quicker than most of her competitors.

I focused on mapping out all of our homes, being in charge of driving my mom and her clients around. I kept the car fueled and clean. I also paid attention to the online part of our business, and learned more about the necessary paperwork. When we weren't driving between homes, I would often set up shop at a kitchen table, while my mom showed the house to clients.

Today I glanced over, watching my mom give a tour to some clients. She was wearing a stylish dark brown pantsuit I had not seen before.The slacks were sheer and high wasted, climbing up the crack of her ass and molding to her crotch seductively. She wore no jacket, and the crisscross top provided a hint of cleavage. My cock stirred looking at her. A sash was tied around her waist, a small strip of her tummy exposed. As usual, it gave a polished impression with an extra measure of class.

As the couple inspected the fireplace, she stepped back, turning her eyes toward me. Her heart fluttered, realizing I had been watching her. She had reluctantly become accustomed to her son's regular diet of daily devouring her body with his eyes. She smiled to herself. He was such a horndog! As his mom, she knew Dylan's affections for her were improper. But she had convinced herself that her boundaries, though slowly eroding, were sufficient. Besides, she was having the best season of her career. Their little charade was harmless.

Driving home from a long day we would review how the day went and make plans for the future. It was all new and exciting to me. I loved business, and making money, and we were doing both. I also loved spending time with my mom. I had lusted after her from adolescence, and having regular access to view her splendid body was a huge perk. But I also simply enjoyed being around her. Our joking and teasing personalities, along with our similar drive for business was fulfilling.

For Julie, all of her childhood dreams were coming together at once. As she had missed out on design school and modeling, her new career let her do both in a sense. She got to expertly stage houses weekly, with nobody looking over her shoulder. She enjoyed wearing the latest fashion trends, and kept her body trim and in shape. Though an American rural housewife, when in Canada, she was a stylish real estate mogul in high demand.

Underneath it all something else was going on that Julie did not consciously realize. She was falling in love with her son. Oh, she would never admit it, but there was no way she could avoid it. All of her lifelong dreams were now being fulfilled. And they were being fulfilled as a result of entering into collusion with her son. Their fabricated marriage in front of others was making her known career dreams become reality. Other long dormant dreams she had as a girl, like an exciting marriage full of surprises, were also coming into view.

The increased pleasure from her new career was equaled with increased pleasure with her relationship with her son. She loved her husband faithfully, yet being around a younger man had its perks. So many of Cliff's missing attributes were attractively possessed by her son. The sheer amount of time that they were spending together was leading her towards infidelity, but she was blind to it.

One of her main wealthy clients who invested in flipping houses was getting married in a few months. They had invited Julie and Dylan to be in the small wedding party along with another realtor couple they were friends with. Julie and Dylan understood they needed to go to the wedding as the clients would be offended if they didn't, and their business negatively impacted.

Still, Julie did have reservations about attending such an event pretending to be her son's wife. Yet the idea of getting dressed up with him for such a fancy event was appealing. One Saturday morning at breakfast, Julie did her best to explain the situation to her husband, Cliff.

"I don't know," he protested. "Is it really necessary? That seems to be taking this little charade a bit too far."

"We'll only be gone for a couple of nights," she continued. The wedding was further west in Canada. "If we don't go, my real estate business might suffer."

"I think I am going to put my foot down on this one, Honey." Julie's heart dropped with her husband's decision. "The idea of you and our son attending a wedding as a married couple is simply too improper." Always respectful of each other, there was little Julie could argue with.

Over the next few days Julie struggled with her thoughts. She wanted to respect her husband and submit to his will, but he just didn't understand the stakes. She played over and over in her mind how she might convince him, but nothing seemed to make sense. She did have one final idea, but her conscience was holding her back. It was a bit manipulative.

Julie made up her mind.

The next Sunday morning, she said to the men at the breakfast table, "Come with me boys. I have a surprise for Cliff."

She led her husband Cliff and son Dylan out to the shop behind the house. Opening the large door she revealed a brand new bass boat. Yesterday while Dylan and his dad were out bank fishing, she had it delivered to the house. Cliff was elated.

"What is this?" looking at Julie. "Is this mine?"

"Yes!" she replied. "All yours!"

He gave her a quick hug and peck and then checked out his new toy.

"Why did you do this? It's not my birthday!" Cliff asked.

"Well, you have been so gracious and supportive with my new real estate business. Dylan and I have been making some good money, and I thought it was fair to share it with you!"

Over the next couple of weekends Cliff spent most of his time on the boat. Julie had gone all out, getting him one of the best. He loved showing it off at the lake. At dinner one night, Julie brought up the wedding one more time.

"Cliff, I know you said Dylan and I couldn't go to that wedding, and I respect that. On that same weekend there is an antique show nearby I'd like to go to. Would you please take me to it?"

Julie felt terrible for the way she was attempting to manipulate Cliff. She lied to herself, telling her this was not about the wedding. But she was fully aware she had concocted a deliberate plan to exploit her husband for her purposes.

Cliff began connecting a different set of dots in his head. He looked forward to his weekend fishing trips on his new bass boat. Going to an antique show with his wife was much less enjoyable. He was between a rock and a hard place. Either he would look like a jerk and go fishing, or he would spend his weekend miserable. An idea came to his head.

"You know what, Julie? Why don't you and Dylan just go to the wedding? I know it is important to you. I think I've overreacted," he confessed, pleased he had found a solution. Hopefully his wife viewed his decision reversal as an act of love for her, rather than putting fishing over his wife.

Julie smiled, all of her hard work paying off. "Really? Oh thanks honey!" she replied, jumping up and giving him a hug.

My mom and I loaded up late Friday morning for our five hour drive to the wedding site. She jumped into the car wearing tiny sleep shorts resembling small boxers and a loose flannel shirt. Soon she had her flip flops off, sitting Indian style in the passenger seat. My periphery vision enjoyed her tan legs fully exposed, her shorts bunched around her ass and crotch.

For the first hour we talked business. My mom explained how she was eager to officially set up her real estate business legally in Canada. She had spoken with an attorney friend she had sold a house to. In fact, she and her husband were going to be the third couple in the wedding party. Since she had dual citizenship, it would be fairly easy to establish my mom's company in Canada. This would simplify paperwork and save us on taxes. Julie had shared the idea with my dad Cliff, and he was enthusiastic about the financial advantages. As I would not be listed on the paperwork, we also discussed how to more formally define my income within the company.

Eventually we moved on from talking about business and simply enjoyed the road trip. It felt a bit like a vacation. We listened to the radio together, singing along to our favorite songs, laughing at each other. I talked to her more about my college experience, and she shared more of her own personal history. We were learning about each other all over again, now as peers. All the while, my mom's toned legs were stretched wide, her heels almost pulled into her crotch. Each time she shared a story, I made sure to safely glance her way considerably, so I could get a better view of her gorgeous legs.

For Julie, she felt like she was in another world. The responsibilities of running a household were miles behind, and all that was ahead was likely relaxation and fun surprises with her new friends. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so good. Talking with Dylan was always a huge highlight. She never got to really just talk with anyone, must less be transparent. Dylan was such an attentive listener, always looking at her, giving her responsive feedback.

The car pulled into a busy truck stop to refuel and use the bathroom. My mom quickly grabbed my hand as we walked into the store, her body bumping into mine at times. This was new. Usually I was the one pushing for physical connection. It felt good with her beside me, not simply tolerating my touch, but seeking it.

We loitered around the tacky gift shop, trying on hats and messing around with the odd trinkets on display. At times I put my arm around her waist. She returned the favor, clearly resolved to this a new innocent level of PDA. She tried on some obnoxious boots, sticking her hip out sideways, pressing her chest out a bit, striking a pose. Her tanned legs and blonde hair looked so sexy. I saw a few other customers stealing glances.

"How does this look, Dylan?" she asked provocatively.

"Amazing! You look like a hooker!" I said jokingly, turning to the rack to try on my own matching pair.

Whack! I felt my mom's hand slap one of my butt cheeks in a playful way, her hand lingering almost with a squeeze.

"A hooker! Is that what you think of your pretty little wife?" my mom responded, a mischievous look on her face.

"Owww!" I pretended. "Let's see how you like your ass spanked."

I chased her down the aisle to the back of the story, easy to catch up with her running in her awkward boots. Her hands did their best to block my deliberate attempts to slap her butt. Well, it was more grabbing and squeezing than slapping. She backed up against the wall, protecting her round ass from further assault. I walked forward, only inches from her face.

"Oh you think you're safe, do you? Well I have a secret weapon." My fingers expertly dug into her waist, causing her body to writhe in ticklish spasms. For several moments, my hands worked around to her ass, while my mom's body jostled against mine. I began to playfully grab and squeeze her rounded butt cheeks. Her screams of enjoyment quickly transitioned into screams of panic.

"Stop it, Dylan!" she pleaded.

After a couple final cheap squeezes, I stopped squeezing her and embraced her with a hug.

I whispered in her ear, "thanks mom, that was a lot of fun."

Her breathing seemed to regulate, now relieved that the tickle torture had ended. Before letting go, I added, "Plus, you make a great hooker!" Slapping her hard on her ass, running down the aisle as she chased me.

As we entered the car, I noticed my mom had loosened a few buttons on her flannel, revealing a white tank top underneath. After a few miles of driving, I made a suggestion.

"You know, mom. It seems odd you're wearing that flannel on a beautiful day like today. I know you're not a hooker," a quick grin showed on her face, "but you don't always have to be such a prude."

My comment had stung. "I'm not a prude, son. I'm proper. And I'm your mom," Julie answered.

She was disappointed in her son's mean comment. So rude. She was disappointed in herself for caring how her son viewed her. Why does it even matter what Dylan thinks?

"I just don't get it," Dylan contintuned. "When we were at the lake last summer I saw you in a bikini....practically your underwear."

Julie remembered that day. Cliff had convinced her to buy and wear that bikini. She had been humiliated, feeling so exposed. She had done her best to hide from Dylan's view those few hours, though apparently he had seen plenty.

"But now sitting here with me you cover yourself with a flannel blanket?" Dylan reasoned. "I just feel like you don't respect me."

"Dylan, your guilt-trip is not going to work with me," Julie responded, fully aware of her son's attempted manipulation. "There is a difference between my relationship with your dad and with you."

"Well, last time I checked my dad was not spending 50 hours a week driving you around, pretending to be your wife. When was the last time I went on a date with a girl?" Dylan asked rhetorically. "I'm stuck with this job. I'm stuck with you. The least you could do is throw me a bone."

"Throw you a bone! This is not a negotiation. I am your mom!" Julie persisted in protest, though her mother's heart had been awakened. Focusing on her own enjoyment the past couple of months, she had forgotten about the true sacrifice her son was making to help her. Her resolve was weakening.

"Do you remember my one rule, Dylan?"

Dylan's face looked puzzled. Julie subtly moved her eyes down to his crotch. Awareness quickly updated his look.

"Oh, that rule. Of course!" he replied. "Don't jerk off to mom," he repeated in a monotone voice. "I'm not a monster. I would never think of you that way," he lied.

A few minutes of pregnant tension filled the car. Finally Dylan suggested, "C'mon mom. Take off the flannel. I'll be a gentleman as always. Stop being such a prude."

Her son's constant pleading had worn down all of her resolve. Slowly she unbuttoned her flannel and threw it in the backseat. Underneath she was wearing a tight translucent white tank top that did little to hide the pink half-cup lace bra she was wearing. Not only was the bra partially visible though the tank top, the straps and part of the fabric were simply uncovered.

She would never walk around the house in that skimpy tank top in front of Dylan, knowing Cliff was around. But after their fun frolicing in the gas station aisles, showing it off to her son didn't feel that inappropriate. She had developed a new level of trust in her son. His constant gazes and pressure to touch her had covertly worn her down. Without acknowledging it, her often dormant biological inclinations ached to have her son acknowledge her ripe sexuality.

Julie's heart rate quickly doubled as she settled into her seat. She had forgotten how much cleavage her top showed. She felt like a college coed streaking across the commons, though she was simply on a car ride with her son, the seat belt providing little sense of modesty.

"Shit! Mom. You look hot." I blurted out, unable to control myself.

"Dylan, watch your mouth! What have I told you about cursing?" she barked back. A content grin formed on Julie's face. Despite her elevated panicked heart rate, she was enjoying herself.

"Sorry, mom" I apologized. A comfortable silence filled the car for the next few minutes. I snuck a few glances at my mom without being too brash, my periphery vision also feeding my desires.

"Hey Mom. That was such a nice gift you gave Dad. It sure seems like he is enjoying his new bass boat," I said as I stared at her gorgeous body.

"I know! I'm so glad I thought of that idea." Julie felt like she was on display, like at the zoo, her son's curious eyes surveying a new exhibit.

"You know, if it weren't for that boat," I continued, "he probably would've never let us go to the wedding. I bet if you would have known that, you would have bought that boat a lot sooner!"

Her son glanced at his mom with a knowing grin. Julie's manipulative scheme, undiscovered by her husband, was all too plain to her son. And now she was sitting half-naked, his eyes persistently pressing into her. With sudden realization of what she had done and was doing, her body quickly became aroused. She crossed her legs, feeling extremely exposed. She had been deceitful with her husband, and now her son was an insider. It was like a juicy plot in a book, not happening by accident, but written by her own devious desires.

She felt dampness in her panties as her son began to more blatantly stare at her. A glance at his crotch revealed his own growing arousal, furthering her own pleasure. She thought about putting her flannel back on. She was feeling guilty and self-conscious. No, she told herself, she had already committed to this plan of action. See it through, she reasoned.

The road got a bit more bumpy, causing my mom's tits to jostle at times. The top half of her soft flesh would roll spasmodically like an ocean wave, our car seeming to find every pot hole. Julie collected her beautiful blonde hair in her hands, lifting them above her head, seeming to wrap her hair into a bun. The action exposed her gorgeous tits further, lifting them higher on her chest as they stuck out provocatively in the car.

Both of us knew what was going on. My mom, generally shy and conservative, was spreading her wings a bit. She still was faithfully committed to my dad, Cliff, but was willing to enter into some new flirtatious grounds. Instead of her son being the only one to introduce a bit of flair into their friendship, she was going to do the same. It felt good to strut her stuff in front of her son, knowing it was generally innocent and harmless. Julie continued to play with her hair above her head, her chest willingly on full display for her son.

Entering the city for the wedding, our first stop was at the rental shop to get fitted for my suit and for mom's bridesmaid dress. A seamstress was waiting for us. She started with me and made me stand on a little podium in a small room surrounded by mirrors. She adjusted my suit with pins, my mom laughing in a nearby chair each time I was accidentally poked.

She had put her flannel back on before we entered, but had left it unbuttoned. Leaning forward with her legs crossed, she knew she was giving her son a generous look at her chest from his perched position. After her exposure in the long car right, her flirtatious position, even now in front of someone else, seemed less scandalous.

Then Julie's turn to get fitted came up. She came out in her dress, a light blue color with shiny satin material. It was strapless, loose in many places, in desperate need of tailoring. The seamstress had her work cut out for her. And so did my mom. She was struggling to keep the dress up and around her. I could tell she was a bit uncomfortable. This was not part of the plan, potentially showing me, her "husband", a bit more skin than she had originally wanted.

I sat down and glued my eyes to her body, the dress providing occasional new glances of skin. Though uncomfortable, my mom responded to my playful comments, doing her best to make the best of the situation.

The seamstress began gathering the fabric of the floor length dress, pinning it in places to take out the slack. The dress had a long slit that slowly became prominent as more and more loose fabric was taken out. Soon the fabric was pressed tighter and tighter around her bubble butt. Boy was she going to look good in this dress.

The top of the dress was an elegant corset, with fairly stiff material that had way too much give at the moment. My mom did her best to hold the top of the dress in place, keeping her breasts from spilling out. Standing still that long in her 4-inch heels was putting my mom to the test. I could tell she was becoming unsteady on her legs.