Real Estate Power Couple Ch. 03

While we listened to the opening acts, a beer vendor came by. Normally my mom does not drink alcohol, but John quickly purchased four beers for all of us. I saw mom's face turn sour after her first swallow, though she kept pace with Angela, soon becoming accustomed to the taste. After she had finished her drink, she asked me to go to the bathroom with her.

After both using the bathrooms, we huddled together at an unused emergency exit hallway. My face full of enjoyment and excitement, my mom's beautiful makeup punctuated by her concerned look.

"Dylan Hart, what are we going to do?" She only called me that when she was upset.

"What do you mean, mom? I think you're doing great. Am I messing up?"

"No, no, you're doing fine." She started pacing, trying to clear her head. I watched her round ass cheeks flex in and out with each step. Even at this moment, she was turning me on.

"I just..I just...I don't know." My mom was struggling to make sense of it all.

"Do you want to leave mom? Are you OK?"

"No, no son. I'm just worried about tonight."

I put my arms on her shoulders. "It's OK mom. You are at a concert with your son, pretending to be his wife. You just drank a beer for the first time in years," my mom nodded, following my narrative, "and you are dressed up more sexy than usual." Her eyebrows perked up, a bit of shock in her eyes.

"You have every right to be worried, mom. This is crazy for sure!"

"OK, Dylan, but what do we do?"

"Mom, we are already doing it. Simply have a good time. You are not a mature mom tonight. You are a young carefree housewife with nobody at home waiting up for you. You came here tonight to have a good time with your husband."

"You're right, Dylan. It's been awhile since I cut loose. I guess I've forgotten how."

My mom, always in control, was less sure of herself in this situation. I continued my guidance, "Let's do this. The main reason we're pretending is because of John and Angela. Let's just follow their lead, and do what they do. That's been working so far."

We had been gone too long and hurried back to our seats. When we arrived, John and Angela were making out in our two chairs, unaware of our presence.

My mom leaned up in my ear, "'Do what they do?' I don't think so!" A smile formed on her face. At least she was having fun with it.

John and Angela soon noticed us and we returned to our original positions. John got us all another round of beers. We were all buzzing pretty good, singing along with any song we recognized.

A popular song was played, and Angela began doing an almost sensuous lap dance in front of John. She put her hands on the guardrail in front of her, and was grinding on his lap. The stadium lights revealed her show with occasional flashes. John had his hands on her hips, helping guide her movements.

Angela looked over at my mom, "Come on Julie. Dance with me. Give Dylan a show."

What choice did she have? Julie considered that her cover could be blown if she could not match the affection of this older couple. She put her hands on the guardrail, the very movement pushing her butt further into her son's crotch. If it weren't for the beers, she would have been out of there, she told herself. As she raised her butt slightly off her son's lap, she felt his hands on her wide hips, helping move her rhythmically on his lap.

John slapped Angela on her butt, a joyful yelp coming out of her. My mom looked back at me, a warning on her face, confirming what I already knew. 'Do what they do' had its limits. The lap dance went into a second song, and by the time it was done, my cock was rock hard. I had tried to adjust it as best I could, but when my mom settled back down, she immediately could feel it.

"Son! Are you getting turned on? What is that in your pants?" Turning her back to John and Angela, Julie whispered to Dylan.

I simply shrugged. Unsatisfied, she grabbed my hand and once again went to the restroom.

In the emergency hallway, she asked again, "What was that in your pants, Dylan?" She was clearly angry. Her pacing resumed, her body's movements maintaining my erection.

I gave her some time to cool down. What was there to say? Was that a rhetorical question?

"Answer me, Dylan."

"I don't know, mom. What do you expect? I'm not a boy anymore. I can't control what's going on in my body. What do you want me to do? Close my eyes and pretend you don't look sexy?"

"Yes!" she shouted back.

"Really mom? Is that even practical? Why are you even freaking out?"

She kept pacing, though began to slow her pace. Her head was spinning, both from the beers and from the situation. Eventually she stopped in front of me. She put her hands on my shoulders.

"OK, your right son. This is a bit unfair to you. I need to settle down. Just promise me one thing."

"Yes mom. What is it?"

"Promise you won't jerk off to me?"

"Eeeww, mom, gross!" Despite the beers, asking that question had awkward written all over it.

"Promise me, Dylan!" she commanded. One of Julie's greatest irrational fears was her son viewing her in any sexual kind of way.

"Yes, mom. I promise. I won't jerk off to you," I lied. I had jerked off to her often in the past, and certainly would again in the future. Feeling guilty, I added, "But I can't promise that my body won't be aroused by you!"

Normally that would have set her off, but the beers and the circumstances had changed things for sure. Hopefully permanently. "Fair enough. Let's get back to the concert."

John and Angela were visibly anxious for our return.

"We've heard they are going to open up the pit in front of the stage for more concert goers. The headliners are going to start soon. Let's go!"

My mom and I grabbed each other's hands, as John and Angela led us through the stands. Here we were, a mom and son running through the crowds like two teenagers. Julie began to squeal with excitement. The combination of the beers and the music began to awaken a joy that she had missed out on as a young mom. Dylan simply could not believe that his date for the night was the woman he had lusted over for years.

The two couples sneaked into the pit just as they were closing the gate.

"We made it!" Angela shouted, jumping into John's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. John's hands cradled her ass, as they began making out once again.

My mom and I looked at each other. Adrenaline was running through both of us, our chests both heaving from the sprint.

My mom felt compelled to wrap her arms around my neck, pressing her body into mine. The feel of her firm tits on her son's chest becoming more natural, even enjoyable.

As I noticed John and Angela continuing their PDA, and John's hands roaming over his wife's ass, I whispered in my mom's ear, "Can I put my hands in your back pockets?"

What? Julie thought to herself. Did I just hear him correctly? "What'd you say?" she whispered.

More slowly, I whispered, "Let me put my hands in your pockets. John and Angela are going to start getting curious. We aren't treating each other like lovers."

Lovers! What was her son talking about?

A shiver went through Julie's spine as her son's hands wiggled into her tight denim pockets. With his thumbs still out, he gave her cheeks a little squeeze, causing a tremor in his mom's body for a second time.

An audible gasp escaped Julie's throat. "What are you doing? I didn't say you could do that!"

"Gosh, mom. It's OK. I'm barely touching you," I whispered in her ear. But my heart was pounding. Her ass was so round and soft, yet when she moved her feet, they became firm as they flexed.

"It's not like you jumped in my arms and we started making out," I joked, provoking a nervous giggle from her.

"I'm not sure you could hold me up!" She quipped, joining in the fun.

We continued whispering in each other's ears, trying to make the awkward enjoyable. My mom was still furious with me for my presumptuous move, but was confined by the social expectations of the situation. She adjusted her arms on my neck, letting out a sigh as she laid her head against my shoulder, getting used to my hands resting on her ass while her breasts resting on my chest.

John and Angela finished their celebratory kiss, and we all slowly tried to get closer to the stage. We ended up near the front, but off to the side a ways. It was nice as there was just a bit of breathing room. The headliners started and we sang along with just about all of the songs.

My mom was getting warm and took off her jean jacket. I had brought a small backpack and put her jacket in it. I hadn't realized how much it had been a shield to hide her busty chest. She had an attractive white half-cup bra clearly visible under the yellow lycra tank top conforming to her skin. Without her jacket on, her tits looked like gorgeous mounds just wanting to be touched.

We continued enjoying the concert. The dark night provided shelter for my mom's conservative nature, while the bright strobe lights regularly exposed the absolute babe at my side. As the night continued, I focused less on the music and more on my mom. When at her side, I decided to put my hand around her waist at times, and she followed suit. She looked at me approvingly, as we tried to blend in with our friends.

Side by side, I had a perfect view of her ample breasts, waiting for each blitz of light to get another glimpse at them. Eventually a slow song came on, and John and Angela began dancing together. My mom put her arms around me, and we followed suit.

Once again, I placed my hands in her pockets without permission.

"Dylan, what are you doing?" My mom whispered in my ear in response.

Squeezing her ass as I responded, I said, "Come on mom, look at John. His hands are all over his wife."

Glancing over at them, she had to admit her son was being tame compared to John's assault on his wife Angela's flesh. Julie loved to dance, and though illicit, the feel of Dylan's hands was electrifying. She continued swaying to the music, enjoying the experience. She felt pressure on her tummy as a bulge in Dylan's pants returned.

Always a mom, she whispered into Dylan's ear, "Stop staring at my chest, son. Those belong to your father. And maybe you should let go of my butt. Seems you're struggling to control yourself." Julie was feeling a bit of guilt and shame knowing that playing the role of her son's wife was arousing him like that.

The band played a couple of famous slow songs at the end of the night. At times, I snuggled up behind my mom, following John and Angela's lead. The heels of her tall boots uplifted her round ass right into my crotch. At first she was alarmed, stepping away from my embrace. But she could not escape being under the watchful eyes of our friends, realizing she needed to play her part.

She no longer resisted my advances, but only glared back at me at times in frustration. She began to sway her hips to the music, subconsciously grinding her ass against my crotch. I kept readjusting my swollen member to not alarm her by my increasing libido.

Glancing over, it was clear that John was groping Angela's breasts, massaging them from behind. I moved my hands around my wifes flat tummy, her tight stretchy tank top smooth beneath my fingers. My mom's hands quickly covered mine, her body suddenly tense.

Leaning down to her ear, I confidently whispered, "Don't worry mom. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'll be a gentlemen." My calm conservative plan assuaged her fears, her body relaxed, and she leaned her head back against my shoulder. Her hands remained on mine, continuing to guard against any further advance.

A wicked thought came to my mind. Leaning down again into her ear, as my eyes feasted on her exposed chest, I again whispered, "Besides, mom. Your gorgeous tits belong to dad."

With that she spun around, anger on her face, and slapped me on the chest. John and Angela turned our way laughing, assuming something much more sexual had occurred. My wicked grin never left my face, my mom unable to stay mad. She grabbed my neck violently as a mother would do, and pulled me toward her, her mouth now at my ear.

"Don't ever say those words to me again Dylan!"

My hands were on her lower back, maintaining our close posture. I whispered back, "What words?"

"You know which words Dylan!" Ironically, her full tits were now pressed against my chest, providing me further pleasure.

"Mom, I won't know which words unless you say them," I teased. She leaned back a few inches to look in my eyes. Her jaw set, the shadow of a grin showing.

"Gorgeous tits! Don't ever call my tits gorgeous again." She tried to keep her face serious, but those words coming off her tongue broke her stoicism.

I snuck a glance down at her gorgeous tits, now on display right before my eyes. My conspicuous glance made us both burst into laughter.

"Ooh. You mean 'tits'. You don't want me to say the word 'tits'. Or to say that your 'tits' are gorgeous. Or that you have 'gorgeous tits'. You got it mom. No more tits talk."

She pulled me tight. "You're incorrigible!"

The final encore song began, and we continued our embrace as a slow dance. I took one last chance, and slid my hands over my mom's ass, failing to slide them in her confining denim pockets. I could feel her body tense, but she said nothing. I was wearing her down.

As we swayed to the music, her head resting on my shoulder, I began to spread out my hands, allowing them to touch more of her round ass cheeks. As I increased pressure, my mom's head perked up, aware of what was going on.

She tried to actually step away, but my more substantial grip on her ass made it easy for me to keep her in place as she tried to lean away from me.

"Mmmmm, thanks for leaning back mom. Your ass feels even better in my hands now!" I teased.

She tried to cross her arms in front of me, but I had her lower body pinned to mine, so she let them hang loosely in defiance. Knowing my pleasure was almost over, I squeezed her ass a few times, rubbing her torso against my crotch, before her hands pressed up on my chest and pushed me away. I could tell I had gone too far, but just barely.

Standing in front of her, I put my hands on her shoulders, lowered myself just a little to be eye to eye. "I'm sorry mom. I didn't mean to hurt you. Remember, I'm only 22. I still get to do stupid stuff from time to time."

Her face remained furious. "Oh know you don't! You don't get to play that card again!" She was mad.

"Besides," I continued. "That gorgeous ass belongs to my dad!"

With that, she finally grinned and slapped my chest hard, my boyish teasing reducing her anger. I grabbed her waist and began tickling, pleased to feel her body gyrate uncontrollable under my touch. The concert ending, John and Angela came beside us, watching their young married friends enjoy being together. We put on a good show.

The four of us went out for a quick bite at a local restaurant, sitting at a booth sharing which songs we enjoyed the most. My mom sitting next to me was beaming, simply being ourselves, enjoying our new relationship. We began to feel like a real married couple.

We pulled into the driveway after 2 am. Still in a playful mood from the night, we acted like teenagers quietly trying to sneak into our house undetected. We took off our boots at the door, and whispered to each other good night without turning on any lights.

As my mom hit the stairs I whispered, "Mom!" and walked over to where she waited, standing on the first step. The moonlight shone on her body, her barefoot appearance looking so innocent.

I stood in front of her and whispered, "Thanks for a great night." I wanted to hug her, and reached out around her waist.

"No, Dylan. That's enough," placing her hands firmly on my shoulders. I held onto her body tightly, my grip attempting to encourage her to give in. After a few seconds of the standoff, she grabbed my arms and pulled them from me, successful in her resistance. She turned around walking up the stairs, my eyes imprinting the view of her gorgeous ass in my mind, knowing that I would break the promise I had made to my mom earlier in the night.

Julie entered her room quickly, almost fleeing from her son. That was close, she thought to herself. She had considered wrapping her arms around her son just then, giving in to the pleasures of her body. Her mouth was flushed with saliva. She had actually wanted to kiss him! How depraved! What was she thinking?

Julie needed to get herself under control as she crawled into bed with her husband. Dylan was her son. She needed to stay strong. Yet she knew she was weakening, as her conflicted mind replayed the memories of the night over in her head. She could almost feel her son's hands on her firm butt, his eyes feasting on her curves.

It was nice to have someone make her feel this way. The way Dylan looked at her with his eyes made her feel attractive, even sexy. The fact that he was her son provided a heightened sense of intimacy. Julie chastised herself for her scandalous thoughts, failing to fall asleep for an hour. She was concerned for her future.