@2

Julie was feeling nervous. She took a few more sips of beer, oddly thankful for the liquid courage. Eventually she began to feel more comfortable, her and Dylan sitting in two camp chairs provided for them.

After a while, everyone got up to make S'mores. Julie got up, almost unsteady on her feet, having finished her second beer. She didn't want a messy Smore, but wanted to stand closer to the fire with the others. Dylan made one for himself, and she couldn't resist having a bite of his. It tasted so good against the bitter backdrop of the IPA in her mouth. Making another S'more, her son fed her again, purposely smearing marshmallow on her face. This resulted in playful hitting and some tickling. The group of people laughed along with their guests, enjoying the genuine affection the young couple had for each other.

As people began to head back to their chairs, Julie and Dylan realized that their chairs were now full, a bit of musical chairs mix-up.

"Let's just go back to our campsite, Dylan. It's getting late," Julie suggested.

The guitar player started plucking a popular country song. "Oh, this is a good one," Dylan said. "Let's stay a bit longer."

They simply remained standing, swaying to the music enjoying the song. A few others also folded up their chairs, wanting to stretch their legs while the guitar played. As a woman strolled over to Julie, her man following, I stepped aside and stood behind my mom, putting my hands on her sweatshirt-covered waist. I felt her body tense, feeling exposed and uncomfortable.

The woman and her quickly began to chat it up, as I did with the man who came with her. Both of us standing behind our women, we snuggled up to them, swaying to the music. Though still covered by her sweatshirt, I pressed my crotch into my mom's round ass. She turned with a brief alarmed glance, though her slightly inebriated state loosened her concerns.

During a lull in her conversation, she leaned her head back and whispered in my ear, "What are you doing!"

"Just enjoying the music with my beautiful mom. Relax."

She tried to step forward, escaping contact with my crotch, but my hands kept her firmly planted in place.

"Let go of me," she whispered, squirming in my hands, unable to make much of a scene so near the other couple.

As her conversation with the woman resumed, I moved my hands slightly down her hips onto her thighs, following the length of her sweatshirt. My mom placed her hands on mine, applying pressure, wanting to prevent any impropriety. As I reached the bottom of her sloppy sweatshirt, I hooked my thumbs under the hem. I waited until her conversation became more animated, and then slowly started pulling up my hands, and her sweatshirt, up her body. By the time she realized what was going on, her sloppy sweatshirt was now bunched up around her waist, my hands holding it in place. Her glorious ass, covered only by the thin lycra material, was pressed back against my crotch.

The nearby couple eventually moved on away from us.

"Dylan, get your hands off of me. This is not OK," Julie protested in my ear, my hands keeping her firmly planted in front of me.

Julie felt so exposed! Her son's crotch was pressed against her butt, and she was only wearing tights! She dropped her hands in front of her privates, uncomfortable having her womanhood so easily viewable by others. She felt naked, almost like wearing nylons with no skirt.

Julie continued to be disappointed with her son. Why didn't he let her go? Why was he treating her like that? Her tights expertly curved around her butt cheeks deep into her crack. And now she could feel her son's penus pressed in between them! As she tried to wiggle away, she could sense his meaty member growing in size!

"Dylan," with clenched teeth, "let me go!" she repeated.

I leaned my mouth near her ear. "Mom, remember last night when you punched me in the nuts?"

Dylan waited for a reply, forcing his mom to answer his rhetorical question.

"Yes son, I remember."

"Remember how much it hurt me? Well, standing here with you makes me feel a little better. It's the least you can do after what you did."

Her son's manipulation was blatant and alarming. Yet she felt the corners of her mouth curl up, always impressed by his cunning and playfulness. She began to feel more pressure on her butt. 'Eeew,' she thought to herself. But despite the motherly disgust she felt, her heart beat just a little faster knowing how her body pleased her son.

Then Dylan's hands slowly moved from her hips and began to wrap around her sweatshirt on her flat stomach, pulling her even tighter to him. Without making a scene, she placed her hands on his, wanting to prevent any further movement. Despite her firm grip, his hands continued to wrap around her abdomen. His forearms moved up, the bottom of her weighty breasts now resting on his arms despite wearing a bra.

She almost felt like she couldn't breathe. "Dylan!" she gasped. "What are you doing?"

The embrace had caused my cock to harden even further. My crotch was pressing in between my mom's ass cheeks, and now her glorious globes were resting on my arms. I could feel her body begin to tremble, making my own cock twitch in response. I felt my mom dig her nails into my arm deeper and deeper, doing her best to make me end the captive embrace.

"Dylan! Please stop! St, stop now! I, I am so uncomfortable," leaning back, pleading more ardently in my ear.

"OK, Mom," I whispered back. "I don't want to hurt you. But you still owe me for punching me in the nuts. If we go back to our campsite, you have to promise me you will sit in my lap by the fire."

Julie was even more pissed! How dare her son suggest such a thing! "Not on your life!" she blurted out.

Dylan's response was simply to pull his arms up tighter around mom, more of her ample breasts laying on his own limbs. She could sense her son's swollen member growing further. She needed to do something to make it stop.

"Fine! I will sit on your lap! Just please take me back!"

Dylan waited a few more moments, enjoying the standing embrace and the feel of their bodies pressed together vertically.They said their goodbyes, leaving the shared site holding hands. As they distanced themselves, Julie began beating against her son with her other hand.

"You are such a jerk, Dylan. Why can't you keep your hands off of me? You are such a horndog! I am your mother. God! I was so embarrassed."

Dylan just took her verbal and physical assaults, already looking forward to returning to their campsite. He noticed that despite his mom's rant, she had no distress with him holding her hand, their fingers interlocked, Dylan caressing hers with his thumb. As they entered their campsite, Julie pulled her hand away, worried about her husband seeing them. She peeked into the camper, not surprised to hear Cliff snoring away.

I brought our campfire back to life and sat down in one of our high-backed oversized camping chairs. My mom came over to sit on my lap as we had agreed. She pulled her sweatshirt down tight, making it clear she was going to prevent any hijinks. She sat down on my lap almost sideways, and we wiggled a bit to find a comfortable position.

"Sorry about making a scene over there mom, making you uncomfortable. I've just never had a real girlfriend, and it's so fun being around you with others." I said.

"I know you have a good heart, Dylan. You can just be so disrespectful at times. Remember, I'm your mother. You need to do a better job of listening to me."

"What's that?" I asked, jokingly.

"You need to do a better job listening....Hey! Stop that!" She slapped my chest, finally getting my joke.

We continued to banter back and forth, enjoying the fire and each other. We have always gotten along together so well, our dialogue only growing more comfortable and natural as I became older. And now our new unique relationship had accelerated the depth of our friendship. A few months ago, sitting on her son's lap would have been embarrassing to his mother. Now she appeared fully relaxed sitting with him, even enjoying herself.

Julie shivered on my lap. "Mom, I'm cold too. Let's add a log to the fire," I commented.

"Sounds good. I'll go use the bathroom real quick," she said.

When Julie returned to sit on her son's lap, Dylan mischievously pulled her long sweatshirt up to her waist at the last minute so that her lycra tights were fully exposed when she sat on his lap.

"Dylan!" slapping his chest again. "Really? Again!" attempting to stand up to correct the situation.

Dylan's hands on her legs prevented her from standing up. He was already enjoying the round flesh of his mom's ass now connected to his lap.

"Let me up son!"

"No. I won't. You hit me in the nuts yesterday. Not OK. Now you have to pay the price. You owe me. Take a chill pill."

Julie attempted once again to release herself. She rarely even sat with her husband like that. She loved the way her tight yoga pants clunged to her legs, but it felt improper for others, even her husband, to grope her while wearing them. Now pinned to her son's lap, a sense of forbidden naughtiness made her heart pound once again.

Jared grabbed a nearby blanket, covering them both, making his mom feel a little less exposed. Dylan began sipping on another beer he had just opened from his dad's supply.

"Where'd you get that?" Julie asked him.

"Where do you think? There were two more left. Both mine, unless you want one."

Julie wasn't so sure that her son should be drinking four beers all in the same night. As she snuggled in under the blanket, and the campfire reflected off her face, the hoppy fragrance and condensation on his bottle made her mouth water. She was still feeling a little buzz from her first two beers, but one more wouldn't hurt.

"I don't want you drinking four beers in one night, son. Give me the last one."

He handed over the final beer, already prepared for her. Julie took a long first drink, shivering once again by the cold shock of the alcohol down her throat. She wiggled her body closer to Dylan, getting comfortable with her head leaning on his shoulder.

She was fully content. She had no worries in the world. She had a wonderful husband sound asleep in the camper, enjoying a weekend of fishing, his favorite thing to do. Her own real estate dreams were coming to fruition, thanks to the help of her son. And now she was resting comfortably in his lap, her body enjoying the effects of being more intoxicated than in years. The two continued their chatting, enjoying their semi-drunk slurred state with each other.

Later in the evening, after using the bathroom again, Julie said, "Time for bed. I will see you in the morning."

"Nooo!" Dylan protested. "Just 5 more minutes. I just put another log on the fire. We need it to burn down first."

Julie was in no state to protest, so she stumbled over in front of her son. As she began to fall into his lap as before, she felt her son's hands on her hips, guiding her down on his lap backwards rather than sideways. Dylan moved one hand to her neck, providing a light massage while pushing her torso forward, her elbows now on his knees.

She felt very exposed, almost like sitting on the toilet. Her feet were planted wide, her butt cheeks were spread apart, baring all of her private areas to her son.

"Mmmmm," crept out of Julie's mouth as Dylan's tender touch on her neck drove shivers down her body. His other hand was on her hip, subtly rubbing the sheer fabric tightly stretched by her sexy hip, now curved seductively.

"Oooh, oh, ah," Julie moaned, her head spinning. She looked at the camper, a dim reflection revealing how her body was mounted on her son. Suddenly aware of the level of impropriety, she stood to get up.

"Not yet mom. You are still too unsteady on your feet. Let's wait a few more minutes."

"Dywun, Dylan," Julie struggled with her words. "Let me go. We shouldn't be doing this. I am your mother."

"I will mom. Just a few more minutes."

Julie's mind was a bit foggy. Why was she having trouble putting her thoughts together? Her head felt so heavy. She leaned forward even further, almost resting on Dylan's knees.

Her son moved his other hand down to her hips, her body almost folded like an accordion. With a gentle though firm tug, he pulled his mom's ass even deeper into his lap, rubbing her body against his swollen cock. Her body felt electric to his touch, the thin slick fabric tantalizing his touch. He rubbed his hands halfway down her thighs, absorbing her sexy essence into his being.

"Dylan, let me up! St-stop touching me like vat," Julie said, slurring her words. Small explosive caution flares were trying to fire off in her brain. Yet her body was so comfortable in her son's hands, the warmth of his touch and the feeling of the alcohol lessening her resistance. She was fully aware of her son's bulging member, now beating in rhythm with her own soft flesh. She understood how her son was positioning her body to give him maximum pleasure.

Dylan continued to allow his hands to enjoy every square inch of his mom's sexy tights. His hands rolled over her hips and down her thighs, only to creep back up, pulling her ass into him tightly again.

"Mmmmm," generated deep in Julie's throat, barely conscious she was making the sound. The opposing pressure of Dylans crotch against her exposed private area felt scandalous, like she was in high school again. She felt her head fall further, almost parallel with his knees, her body mostly limp, pinned to her son by his capable hands.

As his engorged cock pulsated against his mom's pussy, Dylan's own conscience came into play. While immensely pleasurable, this was not the way he wanted it to go. His mom was inebriated, demeaning the experience.

"OK, mom, time to go to bed." Dylan pushed his mom to her feet, unsteady on her own, her round bubble butt was right in front of his face. He could not resist. He placed his spread palms on them, their flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezed her generous flesh.

"Heeey, b-buddy," Julie protested meekly.

Dylan fondled her a moment longer, imprinting it into his memory. Then he stood, put his arm around his mom's waist, walking with her to the camper. He put his mom safely to bed next to his father, hoping someday that would be him.

The next morning Dylan and his mom were abruptly awoken by Cliff.

"Wake up sleepy heads! What are you still doing in bed? I figured we'd be all packed up by now!"

The late night and alcohol had caused them to sleep well into the morning. Cliff was already back from fishing. They slowly joined him and cleaned up the campsite and packed up the RV. Soon they were on the road, Dylan reclining on the bed in the back playing on his phone.

"You don't look so good Julie," Dylan heard his dad say at the front of the RV. "You feelin' OK?"

"I think so, Honey. Just tired. I have a bit of a headache," she replied.

Always wanting to take good care of his wife, Cliff suggested, "Why don't you jump in the back with Dylan and lie down and rest?"

Without hesitation Julie slowly made her way to the back of the RV, falling on the bed next to her son, out of Cliff's eyesight.

Putting her mouth next to Dylan's ear, she whispered, "What happened last night?"

Dylan answered her question with one of his own. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember you being a jerk and a pervert!" Julie rolled on her side next to Dylan, playfully whacking him on the stomach, letting her hand remain on his torso. A lazy hangover smile displayed on her face.

"A pervert? I'll let you know, I was a perfect gentleman!" he countered in hushed tones.

"A perfect gentleman?" Julie questioned. "Well who was the young man pressing his crotch into my butt last night? Who was the young man pinning me to his lap?"

"OK. Guilty as charged. But in my defense, I happen to have a mom who also pretends to be my wife sometimes. And she is an absolute hottie! It's not my fault I can't keep my hands off her."

Julie whacked him a few more times, not saying anything else, in fact only snuggling up to him further, enjoying the compliment.

"What's the very last thing you remember from last night, mom?" Dylan asked.

"I remember you giving me a back massage, and touching my legs even though I told you not to!"

"True. Do you also remember enjoying the massage? Do you also remember being very drunk? Do you also remember how your son didn't take advantage of you but put you to bed like a gentleman?"

His rhetorical questions made a positive impression on Julie. She certainly did remember the amazing feeling of the final hour of their scandalous evening. Her body hadn't felt that way in a while. And now she also remembered the gentle care of her son. Perhaps she had overlooked how Dylan had matured and should be trusted. Sure, he was a young horndog at times, but also a faithful son. A warm feeling washed over her, feeling content and safe next to her son.

She snuggled up to him further, stretching her arm across his chest. She realized that one of her breasts was now comfortably resting on top of her son. There was no denying that both of them were aware of this very sensual contact. Curled on her side, she slid her leg on top of Dylan, pulling it up until her thigh rested on his crotch. Resting her head on his chest, she began to doze off in a state of complete relaxation and contentment.

The last thing she remembered was feeling her son's penus begin to swell under the touch of her thigh. Though almost sleep, she smiled, allowing her conscience to be OK with his arousal. In fact, she was a little pleased. She readjusted her leg slightly, rubbing her son's penus with her thigh. Though subtle, Dylan now knew his mom was aware of his erection, even approving of it, and certainly the cause of it.

They had undoubtedly reached a new level of intimacy in their relationship. 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.

Standing up I walked over to her so she could rest a hand on my shoulder providing her better balance.

"Oh, thank you, Honey! I'm not used to these heels." Julie was impressed by her son's empathy. Without being instructed, he had sensed her needs and fulfilled them. He was becoming quite a man.

As hoped, Dylan's new position gave him an even grander view of his mom's body. Looking over he could now see a generous percentage of his mom's tits, leaving little to his imagination. Her nipples were not visible, pressed into the fabric of her dress. But so much more was clearly available to his eyes.

Julie noticed where her son's eyes were focused, but no longer cared. She just wanted the fitting to get over with. So what if her son saw a bit more flesh than appropriate. He had been so helpful, and they needed to pretend to be married anyway. Leaning more toward her son's shoulder, finding more relief, she displayed more of her breasts to him.

Looking at herself in the mirror, almost naked from her chest up, her son staring at the breasts she had nursed him with, she suddenly realized what she was doing. She stood back erect, pulling the dress tighter to her, eagerly waiting for the seamstress to finish.

Soon they were done and quickly changed out of our bridal clothes. They were behind schedule and drove quickly to their lodgings, trying not to get lost. They were late for the rehearsal dinner, and wanted to get changed quickly. They arrived at a grand bed and breakfast, surprised to see their realtor friends, John and Angela in the lobby.

"Hey guys! So nice to see you," Angela said, the ladies giving hugs all around, John and Dylan shaking hands.

"So there was a mixup with the reservations," Angela explained. "The place is overbooked. The bride is obviously very upset. But she should not be worrying about us. So I told her that us two couples could share a room. It's upstairs, second door on the left. Now hurry and get ready. We'll drive you to the restaurant."

Well, this was a surprising revelation. As we entered the room, both my mom and I were processing how this was going to work. The room was spacious enough, with two queen beds and a bathroom. As far as the sleeping arrangements, that would have to be sorted out later.

Soon we were in the backseat of our friend's car, driving to the rehearsal dinner. My mom was wearing a tight pencil skirt fitted high on her waist with a gorgeous blouse. The white color of the skirt, and her touches of jewelry took the look from professional to elegant. I was so impressed by how sexy she always looked. After connecting with the bride and groom, we soon found ourselves sitting at a cafe table by ourselves. We both seemed fine with that, knowing few other people in the room.

"Geez, Mom. You really put on a show at the rental place. Had I known that, I would have brought a drink and some popcorn."

Reaching across the table she whacked me on my shoulder. "No thanks to you, son!"

"Ssshhh," I whispered, putting my finger to my mouth. "Watch what you call me....Honey."

"Oops" embarrassed by her forgetful flub.

"And what did you want me to do? Look away?" I teased.

"Yes! You horndog!" Our playful banter continuing.

Putting my hands up with a shrug, I said, "What's a husband to do? When in Rome....."

"Well, we're not in Rome, so watch yourself," she said, the white of her teeth poking through a beautiful smile.

"The bride might regret picking out that bridesmaid dress," I continued. "You are going to look better than her! It leaves little room to the imagination."

Leaning forward, my mom agreed, "I know, right? Wow! That totally surprised me. I'm used to butt ugly bridesmaid dresses."

"To be honest," I confessed, "I don't know how I will be able to keep my eyes off of you tomorrow. I hope you won't feel uncomfortable with me enjoying my new eye candy. Plus, I'm sure everyone else in the church will be doing the same thing!"

The two of them continued their intimate banner, normalizing any awkwardness of their married public relationship. If Julie had really known what was happening, she would have been more careful. She was pretending less and less, and simply beginning to live. To live as her son's wife. Her son's sexy wife.

She was slowly giving her heart away to her son, piece by piece. As Dylan pushed the envelope, claiming more and more territory of her body, the same was happening with her heart. Every hour spent together, every moment shared, every increasingly intimate encounter was a deposit into their private relationship. A relationship that they shared apart from her husband. Each time a piece of her heart was deposited into her Canadian marriage with her son, a withdrawal was taken from her American marriage to her husband of over 20 years.

The rehearsal dinner was in a room off the much larger restaurant. Julie and Dylan had seen a few couples leave the room to enjoy the spacious dance floor. Getting a bit bored, Dylan convinced his mom for a single dance.

At first Julie felt tense with Dylan on the dimly lit dance floor. Her arms curled around her son's shoulders, her breasts pressed against his body, his hands around her waist, though natural, seemed inappropriate. But Dylan's coy comments quickly made her concerns disappear. Soon they were enjoying a second dance.

Dylan's libido engine was purring, his body ached for more pleasure. Glancing down, his mom's rounded ass cheeks stretched out her skirt provocatively. His hands were only inches away. He allowed them to slowly drop lower and lower, feeling her small waist meet the sharp curves of her bubble butt.

"OK, Dylan, far enough," Julie whispered in his ear.

Dylan's hands continued their journey south, halfway to their goal.

"If you move your hands any further, I am going to bite you!" Julie whispered in his ear, through clenched teeth. Her playfulness was turning into panic.

For me, her threat was more of a dare than a warning, so I let my hands complete their journey, cupping my mom's ass cheeks fully. Suddenly my mom had my neck in her mouth, her teeth providing a painful interruption. I gripped her ass tightly in response. Her bite was more of an aggressive hickey and I was enjoying it. I was more than content to maintain our sensual standoff, my own cock now pulsating with unbelievable aggravation.

Julie did not let go of her bulldog bite on her son. He had crossed a line. Her ass did not belong to him. She worked hard to give it its full shape, and yes, she enjoyed showing it off. But it belonged to her, and not her son. His attempt to claim her as his territory was going too far. She was going to protect the final inches his hands were unable to squeeze.

Julie became conspicuously aware of her heavy breathing, her nose the only airway available to her. She felt her heavy breasts rising and falling against Dylans' chest. Her face also felt flushed, knowing that her thong panties were probably damp from all this foreign stimulation.

The song ended and Julie and Dylan released their adversarial grip in unison. She immediately whacked Dylan on the shoulder several times.

"You are such a pervert!" she whispered. "Why did you do that to me?"

"Because I can," he answered, a wicked grin on his face. He couldn't resist grabbing his mom in his arms, squeezing her tight against his body, though she remained limp in resistance.

"Well," Julie chastised in her best mom voice, "just because you can doesn't mean you should!"

Leaning back with a big grin, Dylan answered, "Yes Mommy."

With that they both burst out with spontaneous laughter, walking off the dance floor hand in hand.

After returning from the rehearsal dinner, the two couples prepared to go to bed sharing the same room. Fortunately it was low drama. Everyone was tired, dressed appropriately, with no funny business developing. As Julie and Dylan were brushing their teeth, she made sure Dylan understood her expectations.

"Under no circumstances are you allowed to touch me under the covers. Do you understand?"

Meekly I nodded, excited to be going to bed with my mom, disappointed with the boundaries.

After about an hour in bed, both of us were extremely frustrated. John was snoring like a chainsaw. There was no way we were going to get any sleep. My mom and I had been looking into each other's eyes for 10 minutes, exasperation written on our faces.

"Mom," I whispered."Do you want to go downstairs and try to sleep. I think there may be a couch off the main lobby."

She nodded her head and the two of us tiptoed out the bedroom door and down the stairs, like two horny teenagers sneaking through the house. In the lobby, there was an oversized Victorian couch that faced an electric fireplace, still left on.

"You take the couch, Mom,"I said, grabbing a throw pillow. "I'll take the floor. At least it should be quiet here."

Julie felt both respect and pride for her son's kind and appropriate suggestion. Her moral radar silenced, she responded, "No, no, Dylan. That couch is large enough to share. You climb on first."

I laid down on my side, my own back against the back of the couch, trying to provide as much room as possible to my mom. Initially she laid on her back, but slowly turned on her side as well so she didn't feel like she was going to fall off the couch. I grabbed a throw blanket from the top of the couch and partially covered us. We were both very comfortable, staring into the fire.

My mom was wearing navy blue satin pajama pants and a matching button shirt with white highlights. As we squirmed a bit to find just the right support from the couch cushions, my own crotch once again found its home in my mom's curvy ass. Our skin was only separated by her thin pajamas and my loose running shorts. My cock was quickly awakened, primed from hours of visual and tactile stimulation.

"Ya, this isn't going to work," my mom said, rolling off the couch. "You've poked me in the rear enough for one day" referring to my bold approach on the dance floor.

With an embarrassed look, all I could do was lift my hands and say, "I'm sorry."

"Here," she said. "Let's switch places."

After doing so, our limited contact was much more appropriate, and much less pleasurable. Soon we were fast asleep, my mom curled up behind me, our first night sleeping together.

The next morning I awoke cold and alone. I could hear voices in the room next door. After realizing where I was, I snuck back upstairs quickly, hoping nobody would see me. Our room seemed empty. Soon my mom came out of the bathroom.

"Good morning sleepy head,"she said, patting me on the head. "Hurry up and get ready. We are all going out to brunch and then it's off to the church."

We walked down to the street to the restaurant, hand in hand, feeling refreshed. As we entered, John and Angela waved us over, having reserved two seats for us.

"Hey lovebirds, nice to see you!" Angela said. "Did my husband's snoring keep you up last night? We found you down on the couch together. I'm so sorry."

"Oh don't worry at all. The couch worked out just fine," my mom answered, not wanting them to feel guilty.

"I'm sure it did," Angela replied, a smirk on her face as she looked down at her phone.

Within seconds, both my phone and my mom's phone had a notification. Looking at our screens, we suddenly knew what Angela was smiling about. She had sent us a picture of the two of us lying together on the couch, probably taken that morning. The blanket was on the floor, and Julie was cuddled up to me, looking so content. I was lying on my back, and at least half of my mom's body was mounted on top of me. Her head was peacefully resting on my chest, her golden hair cascading around my body. She had a hand on my abdomen, and one of her legs was curled up provocatively around my torso. Her satin pajamas were stretched tight around her hips and ass. Her right breast was resting on my body, its round flesh outlined by her stretched pajamas. Overall the image was both innocent and erotic, depending on your perspective.

Julie stifled an audible gasp when she looked at the image. She immediately felt a pit in her stomach. The picture in her hand was the picture of infidelity. Ignoring that the male body on the couch belonged to her son, she felt like she was betraying her vows. Her peaceful rested state, while her body was so clearly exposed, visibly trusting herself to another man, made her stomach churn.

As we finished breakfast and drove to the church, she kept taking glances at the photo. Her mind had already been working overtime to minimize her initial panic over her disloyalty. What was the big deal, anyway? Dylan was her son after all. They were only sleeping.

As she glanced at the image again, a new feeling came over her. A feeling of warmth and even delight. She thought the woman in the picture looked content. Someone she would like to be. Despite the unintended affectionate embrace she had given her son, she was actually glad they had slept together like that. She saved the picture on her phone, planning to enjoy returning to the image often.

I spent the rest of the morning with the other groomsmen, while my mom did the same with the bridesmaids. Though we both knew the two other couples in the wedding party, I was eager to see her again. As the time drew near, I went to relieve myself in the bathroom. I saw my mom around the corner, waiting for me. Apparently she had the same inclination. After spending hours on makeup, nails, and hair, she looked like a model in her perfectly tailored dress. She edged around the corner in her high heels, seeming nervous.

Seeing her son there in the hallway, Julie wanted to run into his arms. After getting ready, she had been so nervous about seeing him. It was the same dress from the day before, but the full package was almost over the top. Like the day she wore her bikini. She hadn't looked this good since her own wedding. In fact, she looked even better, the last decade allowing her body to fully bloom. She wanted to break the ice so to speak. Her heart was pounding as her son feasted on her figure, picking his jaw off the ground.

"Mom, you look amazing!" he whispered, coming closer. Conscious of his roaming eyes, he looked her in the face. "Wow, you are truly beautiful! I wish dad could see you like this."

His mention of Cliff caused a brief alarm to sound in her head. Her husband certainly would have enjoyed being here with her. Instead he was on his new bass boat fishing, unaware of the full measure of the taboo entanglement of his wife and son. But looking at her son, her caution disappeared, replaced by nervous excitement.

She took a few more steps in her heels, walking a small circle, wanting to let her son see her, getting that out of the way. Being so self-conscious, she needed to get comfortable dressed like that in front of her son. As she walked around the hallway, giving him a show, a shadow of doubt crept into her mind. Was that the true reason? Was she actually eager to show off to her son?

The long slit of her dress rhythmically revealed the full length of one of her tanned legs. The flesh of her exposed breasts, spilling out of her strapless dress, trembled seductively with each step. Dylan came up next to her, putting his arm around her waist, unable to wait any longer.

"You are truly beautiful Mom. I am the luckiest guy on the face of the earth. No matter what happens today, I got your back. Is there anything I can do?" Julie's eyes softened under her son's touch. That is exactly what she needed to hear. Despite being a strong career woman, she needed to be protected, taken care of.

"A hug would be nice," she muttered. Her son put his arms around her waist, enjoying the feel of the tight corset molded to her body. As Julie pressed into her son, she immediately felt conflicted. Why had she asked for a hug? What was wrong with her? This was her son! But even as she berated herself, a soft moan escaped her throat, her entire being was content in her son's arms. In fact, there was no other place she wanted to be at that moment.

Attendance for the event was minimal, though the church and reception hall were decorated extravagantly. Walking down the aisle with my mom was an unforgettable memory. As we stared at each other while the minister pronounced them man and wife, I wished that it would have been the two of us up there, sharing our first kiss.

The reception was equally extravagant, though short. The couple needed to rush off to the airport for an early flight. Soon we were wishing them our best as they drove out of our sight. Returning to the reception hall, the caterers were already cleaning up. We saw our realtor friends, John and Angela, and the other couple in the wedding party waving us over.

My mom's attorney friend announced, "I have a surprise for all of us, follow me."

We walked outside and a stretched limo was parked before us. "Get in."

We all jumped in, a giddy atmosphere growing. Soon we were all sharing glasses of champagne, wondering where we were heading. Soon, the limo came to a stop. We climbed out of our seats and stood in front of another bridal shop. Were we simply returning our gowns and tuxedos?

Julie's friend stood in front of all of us, confusion and curiosity written on our faces.

"The bride and groom are so thankful for being a part of their special day," she began. "They know it took a lot of sacrifice. So they planned something unique to make your weekend special. Follow me."

Leading us into the store, we were greeted by a small group of bridal employees.

"Tonight, there is going to be another wedding. In fact, 3 more weddings. Each of us are going to renew our vows with each other!"

Our friends John and Angela shouted with joy jumping into each other's arms. My mom and I looked at each other, a clear look of concern was obvious. Putting my hand around her waist, I pulled my mom next to me to whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry, Mom. We got this. Go with the flow. Look natural. Let's just try to have fun."

Her son was right. This new curve ball was no big deal. She turned her body and hugged Dylan, intentionally trying to match the excitement of the other two couples.

The women were all whisked away into one area of the store where they got to pick out their very own wedding dress for the night. Meanwhile all of the guys picked out what to wear from the store's vast selection. Obviously, the bride and groom had dropped some serious coin on us for this surprise. The other two men picked out expensive tuxedos, going for the 007 look. I went more contemporary, picking out an off color suit/vest/tie combo that I thought my mom would like.

The employees made final alterations on our selections while we waited for the women to join us. There was some more champagne and appetizers available to us. They had really prepared for us. Close to an hour later, our three wives made their grand entrance. The other two wives had gone for extravagant dresses with lots of flowing fabric and sequins. They found their husbands in the room as they each showed off their wedding outfits to each other.

My mom walked in last, wearing a cream elegant narrow dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves, baring her beautiful skin. The satin material clung to her body, barely providing her legs room to walk. Absolutely gorgeous. With short steps, she approached me, an uncertain look in her eyes. My face communicated shock and awe. She fell into my arms and began softly weeping.

"Julie, you look so beautiful!" I whispered, hoping everything was alright. "Are you OK?"

She continued to quietly cry, her body trembling slightly. A few moments later she pulled back looking into my eyes.

"Everything is perfectly fine," she tried to say with a smile. "I'm sorry I'm so emotional." Leaning forward into my ear, she discreetly explained, "Your father and I never had much of a wedding. It happened so fast and we didn't have any money. And then picking out this dress, the one I always wanted, is just a lot all at once. I guess this is the wedding I always wanted."She leaned back, wiping back her tears, trying to not mess up her mascara. She grabbed the lapels of my suit jacket. Rubbing the fabric on my chest, she said, "And you certainly look very handsome. I knew you would pick out just the right suit." We stared into each other's eyes, both feeling warm and comfortable. The other couples watched our intimate moment, moved and even jealous of our obvious affection for each other.

Suddenly we heard an elated shriek from Angela, as a large tray of jewelry was rolled out. Every lady was allowed to pick out a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a ring for her and him for the ceremony. Whatever we picked out we could keep. After the other two couples had made their choices, my mom and I walked over, inspecting merchandise worth tens of thousands of dollars. My mom picked out diamond earrings and a simple pendant necklace that matched her dress perfectly.

"What rings do you like best, Honey?" she asked me, while the attendant supervised our selections.

As these rings were for a ceremony to renew vows, they did not look like typical wedding rings. There was one in particular, a wide band with several diamonds in-laid symmetrically around it, quite large in size. A plain matching band for the guy sat next to it. I pointed at the pair hesitantly.

"Yes! I knew it! That's the pair I want as well," my mom said.

Before we joined the other two couples by the snack table, I felt I should warn her about something.

"Mom," I whispered, "the other couples are talking about their vows, trying to remember what they said at their first wedding. What are we going to do?"

Surprisingly relaxed, my mom replied confidently, "Don't worry son, they won't be able to remember that far back. They are just going to have to make stuff up, just like us." The thrill of all the bling had blinded Julie from being concerned about much less.

"OK," I said. "But what about the kiss? Aren't they gonna make us kiss?"

Now, I had my mom's attention. She had not thought about that! What would they do? Dylan was so smart, thinking ahead. Before we could even process this new obstacle, or come up with a plan, we were all whisked away in the limo again.

We arrived back at the church, still decorated beautifully. The same minister was still present at the front. All the couples walked down the aisle to the wedding march hand in hand. My mom's joy returned, as did her emotions, occasionally wiping a tear from her eyes.

Standing hand in hand with her son along with the three other couples, the minister began to talk about the sanctity of marriage. Julie looked at Dylan, as if seeing him for the first time. This was so different from her first wedding. Back then she was so immature, as was Cliff. She remembered actually having to look down at Cliff standing in her high heels, but not with Dylan. He looked so handsome and mature. She took a deep breath, her curvy body pressed against the confines of her beautiful fitted dress.

The minister guided the couples through their vows, one at a time. John and Angela seemed to have fun with it, making jokes along the way. The second couple seemed more sincere, though stumbled with their words. As it came to us, the minister asked me to share my vows with my wife.

For the last hour I had been rehearsing in my mind what to say. I simply began to share from my heart.

"Julie, for as long as I have known you, you have been my best friend. I loved you the first time I set my eyes on you. And now you are the love of my life."

My voice cracked just a bit when I made that last statement, betraying my own emotion. Julie's cheeks began to fill once again with silent tears, a sniffle being heard from the other couples now turned and watching us.

"You make me happier than I could ever imagine and more loved than I ever thought possible. You have made me a better person. I promise to work at our love and always make you a priority in my life. Would you make me the happiest man alive today? Become my wife forever and never leave my side."

I heard a joyful sob come from Angela as I finished my vows. Julie had her eyes fixed on mine, her heart relishing my tender words, almost hurting with passion for our relationship. Still crying, Julie whispered a few short words back to me. She had not planned anything too special, but after hearing what her son said, she too spoke from the heart.

"Today, I choose you to be my husband. When you put your arms around me, I feel safe, loved, and honored. I love the way you make me laugh. I love the way you look at me. I love how you make me feel special. I am proud to be your wife. I am yours."

Another chorus of affirmation could be heard from the other couples. Our vows had taken the entire ceremony to a new level of meaning. It seemed like everyone was crying now. The minister walked us through the exchanging of rings. The couples had intentionally entered the church with bare fingers, as the new jewelry was placed on each. Julie and I looked at each with the same intensity as if we were really getting married. The new ring on her finger significantly more impressive than the one left in her purse.

"By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Canada, I pronounce each of you man and wife. Please kiss the bride!" the minister announced.

Julie looked at her son with tender eyes. There had been no time to plan what to do at this moment. No time to even worry about it. It really didn't matter. She knew what she was going to do. She raised her hands and cupped Dylan's rugged face. She leaned in and parted her trembling lips, placing them on her son's mouth, the two becoming one. Their lips pressed together for a long moment, fireworks went off in her head.

As she began to pull away, disappointed in the kiss's short duration, she instinctively angled her head and gave her son a longer open mouth kiss. Dylan seemed caught off guard at first, but quickly adjusted. They briefly explored the warmth of each other's mouth, allowing their desires to taste each other more intimately. As they pulled away their eyes said it all. Dylan's looked like he had won the lottery. Julie's looked like she finally had found true love.

A photographer was there taking pictures, and there was even a certificate for each couple to sign. They had thought of everything! Then the limo dropped each one of them off at their own private bed and breakfast for their one-night honeymoon.

Julie and Dylan were treated like royalty at their lodgings. The hosts, and the other guests, assumed that they had just gotten married. Impressed by their beautiful appearance, they were peppered with questions about their wedding. The two of them humored their new friends, sharing their evening with them, enjoying the full wedding experience as if it were real.

By the time they had made it to their room and changed, they were pretty tired. It had been a long day. Both were ready for bed, but not willing to let the night end just yet.

"Mom, there is a hot tub on the deck outside. How about we unwind in there before we go to bed," Dylan suggested.

"I'd love to, Dylan, but I didn't bring a bathing suit."

Anticipating that response, he countered, "Why don't you just wear your tanktop and sleep shorts you wore yesterday? That should be plenty comfortable."

Julie had little argument against Dylan's odd suggestion. Soon the two of them were enjoying the bubbles of the hot tub. Julie was sitting on the edge of the hot tub, wearing her pink bra under her tank top. Dylan eventually coerced her further into the tub, as they reflected on the glorious evening they had shared.

"Dylan, I am so impressed with you," Julie shared. "What you said to me, and how you acted today...I am so proud of you son." Julie's sentiment was honest and authentic. She wanted to do something special in appreciation.

"Son, you have been so great today. What's one thing that would make your day even perfect?"

Taking some time to consider his options, Dylan blurted out, "Well, you could jerk me off!"

Julie had not expected that! Wow! Give an inch and Dylan took a mile.

"Not on your life! No way!"

Dylan had swung for the fences and whiffed. "Fair enough, I just thought since I have kept my promise all this time, never jerking off to my mom, I could receive a reward," he lied.

Julie's nose turned up in disgust. "Strike one. What's something else that would make your night special?"

Dylan smiled. "We could make out for five minutes! I sure loved kissing you!"

Once again, Julie had not anticipated that. At least this request was less demeaning in Julie's eyes. She pondered for a few seconds before answering.

"No, Dylan. No more kissing for tonight. I do confess that our kiss at the ceremony was amazing. But I am still your mother. Strike two."

Dylan realized he had one more suggestion before his mom shut down for the night. He had one more thought, but was not optimistic about it.

"OK, Mom. Here's one thing that would make my night even more perfect. Take your tank top off for the rest of our time in the hot tub."

Julie raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

"And before you say no, or strike three, let me explain. I've already seen you in a bikini last summer. And it was tiny. So seeing you in a bra is nothing new," he reasoned.

Julie was impressed as usual with Dylan's assertive and manipulative reasoning skills. While she was more inclined to deny the request, she felt bad doing a 'bait and switch' with him.

"OK, if we can turn off these deck lights, I will do it," she accepted.

I jumped up quickly and turned the lights off and settled back into the hot tub. Though dark, I could see my mom pull the tank top over her head, revealing her half-cup pink bra. Her tits were now more exposed to me than ever. I tried to make her feel as comfortable as possible, hoping to establish a new level of physical intimacy with her.

I turned on the lights in the water, illuminating her busty bosom for me.

"Hey!" she protested, putting her hands on her chest.

"You just said the deck lights, not the hot tub lights!" I countered.

Eventually her hands returned to the water, and we resumed our dialogue. Partway through our conversation, I couldn't help but share my feelings.

"By the way, Mom, thank you for making this the best night ever. Talking with you like this," my eyes dropping to her chest, "is about the best thing ever. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but please know it has made me very comfortable."

A knowing grin formed on her face, her cheeks turning more flushed. My cock was hard and swollen, pressing against my shorts underwater.

"Thanks for the compliment. And on that note, I think it's time we best get out."

My mom climbed out, quickly covering herself with a towel. As I exited, she got a clear view of how my cock was tenting my shorts.

There was only one bed, and my mom climbed in wearing a long black satin gown. I crawled in on the other side in my boxers. Hoping to add one more star to my perfect day, I asked one final question.

"Mom, what an amazing day. Do you mind if I curl up behind you and snuggle, nothing too inappropriate?"

Julie had already allowed her mother/son boundaries involving affection to be pushed way too far. But as she remembered the vow ceremony, and the words that her son had said to her, her heart softened.

"OK, son," she whispered.

I rolled over to my mom, already laying on her side, and spooned behind her. My cock, still hard from the hot tub, pressed up against her ass.

"Really, son? Still hard? Doesn't your libido ever slow down?" my mom playfully mocked.

Julie wiggled her hips a little bit, allowing Dylan's body to more completely form to hers.

"I guess not," I replied.

He rested his hand on her shoulder, hoping she would pull it over her. After a few seconds, she did just that, pulling his arm around her body, his hand in hers pressed up against her chest.

"Just keep it in your pants," she jokingly pleaded.

'Too late for that,' Dylan thought to himself. Before cuddling up to his mom, he had pulled his rigid cock through his fly. Most of the length of his cock was pinned in his mom's ass crack, her satin nightgown the only thing separating their skin.

Julie slept well that night, awakening occasionally to the pleasurable feeling of her son loving wrapped around her body. His rigid member, still wedged in her butt, reminding her of her inherent sexiness. Dylan barely slept at all, painfully enjoying constant arousal from his first honeymoon night.

The next morning, Dylan heard his mother getting ready in the bathroom. His morning wood needing relief in their one toilet, he opened the unlocked door and surprised his mom. She was wearing faded denim jeans in her bare feet and only a white bra covering her top. Her hands immediately covered her chest as Dylan walked past her to the adjoining water closet room.

Closing the door he shouted, "Relax, mom. I just need to go to the bathroom. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before, remember."

Despite her son's sound logic, she still was not comfortable exposing that much skin in his presence. As she heard the toilet flush, she covered her chest with her hands, expecting him to walk past her again to the room. Instead he stepped out of the water closet and pulled himself up sitting on the counter in front of her. Still in his boxers, the remnants of an erection visible through the fabric.

"What are you doing?" his mom asked, still covering her chest with her hands.

"I thought we could talk about our plans for the day," her son answered.

"Not until I'm done getting dressed. Now get out of here while I let my hair dry!"

"Oh come on Mom. You're such a prude! You're wearing more clothes than when we went swimming."

Dylan remained on his perch with no apparent plans to move. Julie quickly tired of this game of chicken, finally giving in and lowering her hands. Over the next 20 minutes she continued to do her hair and apply her makeup, all the while her son sat beside her staring at her upper body covered only by a half cup bra. Her large firm breasts spilled out generously in the mirror and in front of her son's eyes. She noticed the bulge in his shorts return to what she had seen last night in the hot tub.

After getting dressed, they returned their dress and suit and hit the road for home. Julie had pulled on a thin white v-neck t-shirt. Each time Dylan looked at his mom, he knew exactly the erotic vision that was beneath her clothes. As her t-shirt vibrated with the bumps in the road, he could picture the soft flesh of her tits undulating underneath

He asked his mom more questions about her wedding and her marriage to his dad. He asked for advice about how to be a good husband, and what women were looking for. The questions seemed innocent on the surface to Julie, and she enjoyed talking about those things. But her answers provided Dylan with the ammunition he needed. He was taking valuable mental notes of how to be the man his mom wanted.

They stopped at the same truck stop as before, and had to wait in a long line to pay for their treats. Julie seemed more free with her PDA as before, leaning on her son more often, her curves pressed up against him unannounced. Dylan took that as a cue to be a bit more bold himself, allowing his hands to at times pass over her curvy hips. While waiting in line, he put his hand around her waist, and then pushed in gently into her back pocket resting on her ass. Normally this would have sent Julie into a frenzy, but all she did was lean her head on his shoulder in response.

When they pulled into the driveway and saw Cliff's truck there, they knew their little honeymoon was over. They looked into each other's eyes, not wanting the weekend to end. Julie grabbed her son's hand, interlocked her fingers through it and rested it upon her denim thigh.

"Dylan, you are the best son a mother could have. I am so proud of you. Thanks for making the weekend special."

Dylan thought his mom was about to say more, but the sound of Cliff closing the shop door ended their conversation.

Looking down at his mom's hand, Dylan blurted, "Mom, your ring!"

Julie looked down and realized she was still wearing her new ring from the vow ceremony. She quickly took it off and exchanged it for the more mundane one Cliff had purchased for her almost 25 years ago.

That night the three of them had dinner together, sharing about their time apart. Dylan kept asking his dad questions about his wedding, wanting to get more perspective on his mom's past. As usual, there were lots of jokes to be told, Dylan fabricating a story of mom's silly dance moves from the weekend. Julie returned in like form, sharing a made-up story of how Dylan had failed miserably picking up a girl at the truck stop.

The collaborative family interaction helped Julie return to a state of normalcy. She had concerns about her arrangement with her son. But the time together that evening felt like old times. But her inside jokes and knowing looks with her son were only moving her farther from her true husband, and closer to her son.

A few days later while Cliff was at work, Dylan heard his mom scream from her upstairs master bedroom. He ran upstairs and found her staring at her bed. She had received a package in the mail and it was spread out on her comforter. It was full of 8x10 photos of the two of them at the vow ceremony. They were stunning. Several of them looked like they could be published in a wedding magazine.

But what had shocked Julie was the document that now rested in her hands, placed in an elegant frame. It said 'Canada Marriage Certificate' and had all of their information plastered on it. She could see the signatures they had quickly scribbled at the vow ceremony. It had an official seal stamped on it, dated the day after the ceremony.

"What is that, mom?"

"I don't know Dylan. It looks like a marriage certificate."

"But that's not possible. That was just a vow ceremony. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure Dylan. But I'm going to find out." Pulling out her phone, Julie began calling her attorney friend who was also in the wedding party. She had been the one to set up the special vow ceremony with the wealthy clients.

As I listened in, it seemed that the bride and groom really wanted the wedding party to have some form of official certificates from their vow ceremony. As nothing like that really exists, they simply used actual Canadian marriage certificates. They had the minister authenticate them and the county courthouse put their seal of approval on them. They wanted us to all have this special keepsake. As all the couples were already married, the certificate carried no official meaning, as their original marriage certificate would take precedence.

No one knew that my mom and I lived in America and not Canada. We had expertly avoided that information all this time. Obviously, my mom wanted more answers.

"Good thing all of us live in Canada. That would have been a mess to have two marriage certificates from two different countries," I heard my mom say, fishing for information.

"I actually dealt with that once," her attorney replied. "I had a client who had two wives, one in Canada and one in America. As he had dual-citizenship, both marriages were legal and binding. The tricky part was when they found out about each other."

"I bet," my mom choked out of her mouth, her world slowly crashing in around her.

I heard the attorney mention how she had grabbed a copy of our marriage certificate and would use it to begin creating our legal real estate entity in Canada. I could tell Julie was barely paying attention, soon ending the call.

My mom sat down on the edge of her bed, her head falling into her hands.

"Noooo! How did this happen!" she screamed.