Real Estate Power Couple Ch. 02

After being mistaken as a married couple in Canada, my mom and I were driving to our first real estate opportunity. The two of us would be pretending to be man and wife just an hour away from our American home. My heart was pounding as we drove to meet the couple who had promised to share two listings with us.

My mom on the other hand seemed composed and eager. She was rarely out of control. She had on a pair of translucent black nylons, with a snug long sweater ending mid-thigh. Her legs looked great as she sat beside me in the car, her sweater riding up, her round ass the only thing keeping it in place. Some stylish high heels were strapped to her feet. The whole package looked hip and professional.

I got more and more nervous as we approached the first house. I finally began to sense some nerves with my mom as well. Shots of adrenaline had begun to pump through our bodies as the realization set in. What we were doing was wrong. Not only that, it was in public. While nobody should recognize us in Canada, what if someone did? Living out a lie was becoming more difficult than we had thought.

Becoming more concerned as we neared the house, I asked my mom, "So exactly how is this going to work?"

"Good question, son. Just let me take the lead. I know what I am doing. I can do most of the talking. Just don't call me mom, OK?" She looked at me like I was in elementary school again, looking for comprehension.

"Got it," I replied, not sure what I had gotten myself into.

As we pulled up to the house, the couple was on the front porch waiting for us. They looked to be in their late 30's.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" My mom said, pulling a ring out of her pocket. "This was your father's first wedding ring before we upgraded. I hope it fits!"

"What finger do I put it on!" I asked in a quick panic.

She quickly shoved it on my ring finger. It took some doing, but eventually got it past my knuckle.

The names of the real estate couple were John and Angela. They seemed warm and friendly, which made things easier for us. It was exhilarating to actually be pretending that I was married to my mom. She shared some interesting made up information about us, and I tried to play the part. We entered the house and they began showing it to us. They assumed they were much older than us, and appeared to take on a mentoring role.

As we walked out on the back porch, we followed John and Angela who were now holding hands like we were all on vacation. My mom slipped her hand into mine as they led us to the pool house. A shot of electricity went through my body. We had never held hands like that. We had rarely been affectionate with each other. Her hand was so soft and tender, seeming to fit perfectly in mine.

I tried to pay attention to what John and Angela were saying, but I was distracted standing next to my mom. I had never been this close to her like that. Her perfume tickled my nose. Occasionally her body would connect with mine as we stood together. One time I felt her left breast graze my arm through her sweater, my mom quickly pulling away. Despite being somewhat terrified by the sordid ordeal, I had to admit I was getting turned on.

The couple drove us to the other house for another tour, and then the four of us had lunch together. Like my mom had said, she took the lead and helped me with all of the necessary social cues. Sitting at lunch together, she occasionally put her hand on my leg or shoulder, laughing at a joke I said. It seemed like things were going well. We had made our first Canadian friends in John and Angela. They dropped us off back at the first house and we said our goodbyes.

Entering the first house again, my mom wanted to prepare to list it. Now free from the other couple, she took off her heels and spun freely around in the home's expansive living room. Her free exuberance was neat to see, her dreams of doing real estate in Canada coming true.

As she bounced around the room, her sweater rode up higher on her legs, no longer concerned about others. Kneeling down at times, her sweater acted more like a miniskirt. My cock hardened as I feasted on her round ass cheeks, her sweater stretched tight about them, highlighting her generous curves. My eyes often wandered to the healthy gap between her toned thighs. I had lusted after her for years. Now she was my pretend wife, though I couldn't really touch her like I wanted to.

My mom was certainly enjoying herself. She had listed houses before, but never as nice as this one. In her delight, she was unaware of how her movements were putting on a show for her son. She noticed me standing still, my thoughts in another place. A place that was undressing her in my mind. She skipped over to me, her large breasts bouncing under her sweater. She put her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes.

"Are you alright, Dylan? Was today OK?" she asked, with sincere concern on her face.

"Yes mom, it was fine. A little weird for sure. But I had fun with it. Congratulations."

A big smile spread across her face. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body against mine in a grateful embrace. I placed my hands on her lower back, responding in like form. I couldn't remember the last time my mom hugged me like that!

My heart was pounding as I felt her round breasts press against mine. They were surprisingly firm. I thought they would be squished between us, but rather they were a conspicuous reminder of my mom's youthfulness. I looked down at my hands, only inches above her round ass, curving out from her body, stretching her sweater. My cock stirred in my pants, never having felt a woman like that before.

We spent another hour in the house, my barefoot mom taking notes and lots of pictures. She was in her element and excited about her new opportunity. I provided encouragement, helping where I could, my eyes watching her every movement. Maybe this new arrangement was going to work out just fine.

When we got home, we reported back to my dad our successful day. He seemed more than pleased that his idea had been a good one. He confirmed dates with her for their free Alaska trip we had won at the previous real estate luncheon. My mom spent time on her computer getting our two new listings on the internet. Within a week, we had set up a full day of showings for both houses. We scheduled another day to spend up in Canada, planning also to sign up for the Alaska vacation.

For our second trip to the north, my mom was wearing a fitted pastel knee-length dress with a stylish suit jacket over it.. As we prepared our first house for the showing, I noticed how her 4-inch heels made her hips sway when she walked. With each step, each round butt cheek would contract, mesmerizing my cock. While eye-turning for sure, she always had a way of looking professional.

We worked in tandem showing the first hose to interested buyers, quickly developing into an efficient team. During our lunch break, my mom sat on the couch at the second house, taking her heels off and putting up her legs. Her dress had pushed up to mid-thigh, and my mom looked like a queen reclining in her palace.

"Do you want me to rub your feet real quick?" I offered, something I had seen dad do occasionally at her request.

"Oh yes, please!" my mom quickly responded, surprised with my offer. "Dylan, you would do that for me?"

I sat on the coach, placing her feet on my lap, and began rubbing them. My mom closed her eyes and laid her head back in restful delight. I allowed my eyes to feast on my mom's curves, enjoying the subtle moans of pleasure slipping out of her mouth. My cock began to swell from the sight, though I made sure to keep my mom's feet far away from my crotch. Despite her inherent sexual qualities, my mom was very conservative and I didn't want to alarm her.

After more showings, our second to last buyer did not turn up. We had an hour to spare before our last showing of our long day. My mom once again took off her heels, tiptoeing around the house one more time fixing it up the way she wanted it. There was something so erotic watching my mom's bare feet on the marble floors, her hands raised as she adjusted a picture, the coarse fabric of her dress pulled tight against her round ass cheeks.

She sat down on the end of a narrow ottoman, used as a coffee table. She rubbed her neck, clearly exhausted.

"Mom, do you want a neck rub? You have been doing most of the work today. I feel like I should do something."

"Oh, Dylan, that would be great."

I straddled the narrow ottoman, sitting behind her, and began to knead her neck. Her suit jacket was conspicuously in the way.

"Mom, do you want to take off this jacket? Your muscles are so tight. I think I can get to them better that way."

Julie was unsure about her son's request. Harmless enough, but she had never worn that dress without the suit jacket on. While not scandalous, its narrow straps and low back made the dress much sexier than she wanted it to be. The stiff fabric of the dress molded around her breasts, making them even more prominent on her chest. She was constantly covering them with the lapels of the suit jacket. But with the tight muscles at the base of her neck crying out for relief, she stood up and removed her jacket, sitting back down in front of her son.

Before my mom returned to the ottoman, I moved forward just a bit. When she returned, my body was now much closer to hers. As I rubbed her exposed neck, it was clear that her muscles were indeed very tight. Soon they relaxed, my fingers enjoying the touch of her bare skin. I allowed my spread legs to squeeze in a bit, applying light pressure to her legs, enjoying the feel of her body trapped between my legs.

I began rubbing her exposed back, subtle sighs of pleasure continuing to give me permission. I looked down at my bulging crotch, only inches away from my moms ass. As I rubbed her shoulders, I allowed my hands to slightly slip under her narrow dress straps occasionally. Then I pushed my hand in even further, going under her bra straps, sensually massaging her bare skin on her back and shoulders.

"Whoa bucko, that's far enough," my mom chastised, becoming uncomfortable with my hands.

"Oh, sorry mom. I kind of got carried away. Your whole back feels so tight."

A few moments later she stood up and stretched, not putting her suit jacket back on. My cock strained against my pants as I stared at my hot mom. Her tits were so prominently presented, majestic scenery rivaling the outside vista. As she walked directly in front of me and asked me a question, my eyes betrayed me, catching glimpses of her busty melons.

"Eyes up here," she said, pointing to her face. I had been caught red-handed.

"Charles, your face is turning red. That's what happens when you stare at your mom's body like that. My little boy should not be looking at his mother like that. Now please bring me my suit jacket."

As I brought her suit jacket to her, stealing another glance at her chest, she added, "And thank you for the neck rub," she said, covering her ample chest.

After the final showing, we made our way to the specific real estate office to sign up for our Alaska prize package. We selected our dates and signed our names to release the final package elements.

"Why did you sign your name as Cliff? I thought your name was Dylan," the official asked.

"Oh, Dylan's my middle name. But my official name is Cliff," I lied, so the tickets could be in my dad's name.

Before we left, we received a tour of their offices, a place my mom was hoping to someday work. It was fun walking around as if we were married. My mom put her arm in mine a few times, her chest at times pressing against my arm through her suit jacket, becoming more comfortable being together like that.

Before we left, they wanted to take a picture of the two of us, the big prize winners for promotional purposes. After a few poses, they had some fun with it, and suggested some more wacky photos. One picture had my mom on a stool behind me, looking over my shoulder pointing at something. As they kept coaching our pose, both of her breasts began pushing against my upper back.

We were in that position for several minutes, as they worked through some camera issues. My mom was clearly uncomfortable pressing her bosom into her son's back multiple times.

"You doing OK, Dylan?" she whispered to me. "I didn't realize this was going to be such a production," a concerned look on her face.

"No worries, mom. I'm fine," I answered. "Why don't you just try to have fun? I mean how often do we get to pretend to be models!" I suggested. A small yet cautious smile crept onto her face, considering my suggestion. Julie wished she could be more relaxed, but she could not get used to pretending to be her son's wife.

The last pose had Julie place her hands on Dylan's shoulders, looking into each other's eyes. She was taken aback by how large his hands felt around her narrow waist. She realized just how much bigger he was than her much shorter husband Cliff. As the photographers moved them closer to each other, the tips of her breasts contacted Dylan's chest.

She pulled back reactively, betraying her discomfort. Forcing a smile, she leaned back toward Dylan, her son helping press her breasts into his chest. She looked into his face, a wicked smirk appeared, her son clearly enjoying himself.

As the photographer played with his camera, Jullie whispered, "'You pervert!" just loud enough for Dylan to hear. She said it with a smile so as not to hurt her son's feelings, though hoping that her disappointment would be clear. The breasts that had fed him as a baby were now intimately touching his chest. Her son should not be enjoying the touch of his mother like this, and certainly should not have his mother's breasts resting on his chest.

Despite her internal protests to the forced affection, she wondered why her body was beginning to tremble. Was the adrenaline running through her body a result of anxiety about pretending to be married to her son? Or was her body reacting to the pleasure of allowing her son to enjoy her body? As she tried to dismiss that last thought, a slight tingle between her legs announced that the idea of her body being aroused by the situation was not untrue.

Oh my, what had she gotten herself into?