It was 8am on a Wednesday, and Mom and I were exercising in the basement. I religiously worked out five mornings a week, and she was always right there with me. We started with a run on our two treadmills. Mom’s industrial-strength sports bra didn’t completely restrain the bounce of her D-cup boobs, which I loved to watch. She didn’t seem to notice.
Mom’s big tits were a present from Dad for her thirtieth birthday. She told him she didn’t want to go through her whole life with tiny A-cup boobs, and he was happy to pay for a boob job. At the time she was also becoming overweight, as thirty-year-old women tend to. So she joined me in my morning workouts. She says I’m her inspiration.
Four years of workouts sculpted Mom into a sleek and strong specimen of feminine perfection with platinum blonde hair. 34D-24-34. 5’6″ tall. Long legs. Perky round butt. The fake tits were unnaturally high and firm, not that there’s anything wrong with that. She closely resembles April Cheryse, a model. Google her and you’ll get the idea.
After running on the treadmills, we lifted free weights then finished with thirty minutes of yoga. The yoga was Mom’s idea. I go along with it because it keeps me flexible and it’s entertaining to watch her contort herself into all those poses.
When we were done we cooled down for a few minutes on an old sofa in the basement. “So, how are classes going?” I asked.
Mom is a college freshman at age 34. She didn’t go to college at the normal age because she had me to take care of. My dad knocked her up when she was only 16 and he was 20. I’m 18 now and a senior in high school.
Dad didn’t mind Mom going to college. It amused him in fact. You see, Mom is kind of a bubble-headed blonde. Not exactly the academic type. Neither Dad nor I could picture Mom in a college classroom, but she wanted it so we supported her 100%. She’s a great person despite being a bit ditzy.
Mom inherited money from her wealthy family, but Dad is a banker and can afford to support us without dipping into Mom’s funds. We had a good, prosperous life in Memphis, Tennessee.
Anyway, back to the story … Mom’s face lit up and she replied, “College is great, Gary. I’m having so much fun!”
“Good. You’re fitting in?” I asked. She had been worried about fitting in with the other college freshmen because she was so much older.
Mom giggled. “Yep. I told them I’m 22 and they believe me! They think your old mom is barely older than you! Not bad, huh?”
I wasn’t really surprised. She had a young-looking cute face with high cheekbones and dimples, and her body was probably the envy of every girl in her class. “It’s because you keep yourself in great shape,” I complimented her.
“And I have you to thank for that, honey. You’re my inspiration,” she replied and kissed me on the cheek. “I wish your dad would work out with us.”
Dad was a little older than Mom, 40, and was overweight. As a loan officer at the bank, he spent too much time sitting behind a desk. “Good luck getting him to exercise,” I said. Dad was a sedentary kind of guy.
Mom sighed. “I know, but I worry about his health.” Then she brightened up and added, “Speaking of your dad, a funny thing happened yesterday.”
“What?”
Mom giggled. “I told Jessica that you’re my husband,” she said. Jessica was Mom’s best friend at college.
“What?! Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident,” she replied and giggled again. “Jess knows I’m married, and when she saw your photo on my phone, she assumed that you’re my husband.”
“Why didn’t you correct her?” I asked.
Mom looked at me like I was a dunce. “Your dad isn’t very believable as the husband of a young college girl, Gary!”
That was true. 40-year-old overweight men with receding hairlines rarely are married to college freshmen. “So you let her think your 18 year old son is your husband?” I asked.
Mom grinned and nodded. “Isn’t it brilliant? It really helps me fit in. Jess thinks you’re hot, by the way.”
“Is she hot? You could set me up on a date with her,” I kidded.
Mom frowned. “You’re supposed to be my husband, Gary.”
“Oh yeah,” I chuckled.
Mom seemed to be annoyed with my joke, but a couple minutes later she hesitantly said, “Jessica invited us to go to spring break with her and her boyfriend Brad.”
My jaw dropped. “What? Me and you? Mom, I can’t go to spring break with you.”
She pouted and whined, “Why not? I really really want to go. I won’t embarrass you, I promise.”
“No, Mom. It’s too weird.”
“Please?” she begged. “I never got to do stuff like this when I was your age.”
She left it unspoken that she didn’t do stuff like that because she was taking care of me. I felt the weight of guilt crushing me. Maybe this wasn’t too much to ask. Going on a vacation with her wasn’t too weird, was it? And it would make her happy. Mom deserved to be happy. “Okay,” I agreed. I was sure I’d regret it.
Mom squealed with delight and jumped into my arms. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best son, Gary!” She kissed me on both cheeks and the tip of my nose.
“Don’t you mean best husband?” I teased.
She giggled. “Yes. Best spring break hubby.” She kissed the tip of my nose again.
“Has Dad agreed to this trip?”
“Not yet. I was hoping you’d help me convince him tonight.”
That evening at dinner, Mom told Dad, “Honey, I want to go to spring break with Jessica. She and Brad are going to Fort Lauderdale.”
Dad grimaced. “Amy, I don’t want to spend my vacation with a bunch of wild college kids.”
“I know you don’t,” Mom answered with a smile. “We’ll go on our regular vacation in the summer. Spring break is just for me.”
Dad’s eyebrows raised. “You want to go to spring break alone?”
Mom shook her head. “Not alone. With my friend Jessica and her boyfriend Brad. And with Gary.”
“Gary?” Dad looked at me. “Do you want to go to spring break?” He thought about his question for just a moment, then said, “Stupid question. All 18-year-old boys want to go to spring break.” Dad looked back and forth between me and Mom for a minute then said, “Alright. I don’t see any reason why not. The two of you can take care of each other and make sure you don’t get into trouble.”
Mom squealed, jumped up and hugged Dad. “Thank you, Mark! Gary and I will take good care of each other.”
She didn’t tell him that her friends thought I was her husband, and I sure wasn’t going to say anything. It was too strange to mention.