Fitness Model Moms 3 free porn video

Fitness Model Moms 3

Introduction

Dean held his fiancée Deanna’s hand. She wasn’t responding. Lying in her hospital bed, shortly after being moved from the emergency room, Dean was saying goodbye to his first love.

Her parents were on the way; Dean was unable to reach his mother.

“Please don’t do this,” Dean was crying. He thought about their plans. Things would’ve been so perfect. College graduates, together since freshman year, getting married, and having a wonderful life. He sobbed harder thinking about how similar their names were; a detail so small and simple yet showed him they were made for one another.

He kissed her hand, her heart rate monitor beeping less and less each minute. Dean knew it wouldn’t be long before Deanna passed away. “No,” he cried.

“Yes!” Monica arched her back, several miles away, on top of her coworker, Ulysses. They recently completed another photo shoot for a fitness magazine.

She was cumming again. “Mmm, damn,” she said, Ulysses running his hands up and down her toned, washboard tummy.

“Whew, I need a break after that one,” Monica smiled, climbing off her friend, his cock slithering out of her pussy.

“Want some water?” she asked over her shoulder, leaving her bedroom.

“Sure, that’d be great,” Ulysses nodded to her. When she was gone, her cell phone buzzed on the bedside table.

“Deanna,” Dean cried back at the hospital, squeezing her hand. “I need you.”

Her heart rate monitor beeping less and less each minute, a nurse and doctor were checking her. “Sir,” the nurse whispered, her hand on Dean’s shoulder. He knew it was almost time.

The nurse scooted by him to check equipment. Dean cursed himself, thinking he should’ve rode his bike with her, maybe the truck would’ve hit him instead of her, or perhaps it could’ve been avoided all together.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He ran his finger over the engagement ring he saved up for. It wasn’t the best out there, and was fairly cheap, but Deanna didn’t care. She happily wore it after excitedly throwing her arms around Dean, saying “yes” she’d marry him.

Monica climbed back on Ulysses, pushing a strawberry in his open mouth. “Good?”

She slid his cock back in her hungry pussy. “Yes, very good,” Ulysses replied, not referring to the strawberry.

Monica chuckled, “Maybe you’ll forget about that woman you told me about. For a little while at least.”

“Maybe,” Ulysses said. “But I’ll think of her again when I leave here. Thanks for trying to help though.”

“No problem,” Monica grabbed his face, leaning down to kiss him hard.

Back at the hospital, Deanna flatlined. Dean held her hand for several minutes, listening to the doctor pronounce her dead at 2:19 am. When they left, giving him more time with her, he stood, brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead. His lips were trembling, barely touching her skin.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. He could barely stand, his legs weak. Five years of laughter, happiness flashed before him – all of it was gone now. Dean had seen a future with Deanna, a house, kids, maybe a dog. It would never happen now.

“Uhn! Yes!” Monica was bouncing up and down in Ulysses’ arms back in her bedroom. Her phone vibrated again.

Ulysses reclined back in the bed, “Hey, you may want to check that. It buzzed several times while you were in the kitchen.”

“Could be a wrong number. It’s really late,” Monica said, reaching for her phone.

“Maybe.”

A concerned look came over her face, answering the call, getting off Ulysses. “Dean?”

“Mom. It’s Deanna.”

“What? What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone.”

Monica almost dropped the phone, shaking uncontrollably as her son told her the events of that evening. She gathered up her pajamas, listening to Dean cry; cursing herself for not answering earlier.

“I’ll be right there,” Monica ended the call.

“Everything ok?” Ulysses asked, still naked in her bed.

“No. My son needs me. I have to go,” Monica grabbed her keys, removing the house key from the key ring. “Lock up and leave this under the doormat outside.”

“Um, ok, I’ll do that,” a confused Ulysses said.

“Sorry,” Monica said. “Maybe another time. See you later.”

When she left the naked fellow fitness model in her bed, the last thing on her mind was seeing Ulysses again. Dean was all that mattered. Monica rushed out of her house, got in her car, and sped off toward the hospital.


-1-

It was New Year’s Day, 40 days since Deanna died. Monica was in her kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner.

She dumped the vegetables into the large pot to boil them. She sat at the table, running her hands through her long, curly hair when her phone rang. It was a new friend, Gia.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Hi. Just wanted to let you know things are going great here in Hawaii. I really appreciate you recommending me for the shoot. You were right about the photographer they booked, he’s annoying!” Gia laughed.

Missing out on a visiting a beautiful tropical location for work didn’t faze Monica; there was no where she wanted to be but home. She couldn’t leave her son alone.

Gia was taking her place for the photo shoot. The modeling agency was able to arrange it – though wasn’t totally on board with Monica being replaced. Gia was taller, mid-30s, a few years younger than Monica and had dark hair. The photographer that was used complained about lighting and colors constantly. The agency knew Gia’s dark brown hair against Ulysses’ dark brown skin would cause him to whine and complain. Monica didn’t care – it wasn’t her problem, the agency would deal with the photographer. She had to deal with her son; she had to see him through this somehow.

“How’s your son?” Gia asked.

“Same. He won’t come out of his room. He barely eats,” Monica sighed looking at the unpacked boxes leftover from when she moved him back in with her, a month prior.

“I’m glad he’s there with you though,” Gia commented.

“Me too. I can’t think about what would’ve happened to him if I left him at his apartment.”

“Yes, what’s your son’s name by-the-way? I don’t think you’ve told me,” Gia asked. There was a knock at her hotel room door. “Shoot! I better go.”

“Alright. Thanks again for taking my spot,” Monica said. “Ulysses is a really nice guy.”

“It’s fine and I agree. We had a great first day shoot.”

“Alright, take care.”

“I will,” Gia ended the phone call. She turned around, naked, and opened her hotel room door. Ulysses was smiling. Gia pulled him hard into the room, pushing him on her bed and straddled him.

Monica stirred the vegetables then went to check on Dean. He was still in bed, sleeping, depressed.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll bring you some dinner soon.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

She rummaged through his boxes near the kitchen. The one on the top contained something that almost made her cry – Deanna’s engagement ring. It was placed back in its box from the jewelry store and hidden amongst miscellaneous items. Monica opened it, thumbing the ring. It was a simple diamond, nothing fancy, nothing too pricey. She wiped a tear and placed it back where Dean packed it.

A few hours later, Monica was getting ready for bed. Drying off after her shower, she put on pajama shorts and a tank top, brushed her hair, and left her bedroom for Dean’s.

The plate of food was empty, Dean lying on his other side, his back toward Monica.

She climbed in his bed, pulling the covers over them, and snuggled up to his back. Her hands slid under his t-shirt, her fingernails scratching at his skin. He felt so warm to the touch.

Monica sighed, another day down, another to start the next day.

“Goodnight. I love you,” she whispered in his ear, kissing the back of his neck. Monica pulled his shirt down, and flung her arm over his waist. This is where she slept since she moved him in with her.

Sleep eventually found her after planning for the next day, hoping she could get him out of his room, maybe get him walking around talking. Monica had to do something, Dean wasn’t getting better. She knew it would take time, but she was scared.

***

“Yes, I understand. I’ll let him know,” Monica informed an HR representative the next day on Dean’s cell phone. She took his phone, answering and handling any calls he received, since he showed no desire to talk to anyone. This call was to inform Dean that his twelve week leave of absence from work was halfway through.

Monica set his phone down and continued her workout in her make-shift gym in the garage. She no longer went to a gym, opting to be at home with Dean as much as possible.

The Florida heat lessened slightly in January. The humidity was still strong enough to get Monica nearly drenched with sweat – her matching red sports bra and shorts not helping cool her much.

She heard movement above her. Dean’s room was right above the garage. He was getting out of bed. Monica set the dumbbells down and dashed inside.

Pretending she was in a rush she barged into the bathroom, just as he was getting into the shower. “Mom,” he said annoyed, pulling the shower curtain shut.

“Sorry! I was in a hurry,” Monica told a half-truth. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, he wouldn’t be able to see her pee anyway. Nor did he care. He didn’t care about much anymore. He was out of bed to shower, and then go right back.

Monica pretended to pee, thinking of how to keep him out of his room and interact with her.

“So, do you want to work out with me? Might be fun,” she said.

“Nah,” Dean said, rinsing his hair.

“Ooh, there’s a new Italian restaurant I’d like to try. Can I take you to dinner?”

“No thanks.”

“Alright,” Monica sighed. She left the bathroom and paced around in the garage.

“I can do this. I have to be firm, I’m his mother, but not pushy or uncompassionate,” Monica thought. “I’ll just tell him to join me tonight on the couch. Baby steps. We’ll watch a movie or just sit there. I could read or – ” she heard more movement above her. Dean was out of the shower and Monica rushed back upstairs.

“Hi!” she ran into him, her arms extending, wrapping around his bare torso. He gripped the towel wrapped around his waist, grimacing at the sensation of her wet, sweaty midriff against him.

“Mom, I just – ”

“Sorry,” Monica stepped back. She intended to wipe her sweat away from his lower abdomen, unfortunately, rubbing it in instead.

“It’s fine,” Dean said, pushing pass her.

“Dean. I’d like you to join me downstairs tonight.”

He shrugged and entered his room. “Please? We could sit and eat leftovers, maybe watch a movie,” Monica suggested. Nothing seemed to work.

She glanced into the living room, to a bookshelf, seeing a few magazines, and got an idea.

“I need your help,” she said, barging back into his room, causing Dean to quickly cover up with the towel.

“Sorry. I need your help tonight.”

“With what?” he asked.

“My, uh,” Monica said thinking to magazines where she was featured on the cover. “I’d like your opinion on my future potential photo shoots,” she was able to pull out of thin air.

“What? Why?”

“I just want your opinion. I get opinions from photographers and managers at the agency, but not opinions of real people.”

“But I’m your kid.”

“You’re still a real person.”

“I guess. Not sure why my opinion would count or matter.”

“Dean,” Monica approached him, placing her hand on his chest. “If anything your opinion is more important to me than all others.”

“Geez,” Monica looked down, realizing a truth. “Maybe I could have asked your thoughts on my photos long ago. Sorry.”

Dean sighed, “It’s fine. Yeah, I’ll look with you.”

“On the couch?”

“Yeah.”

Monica left his room, headed toward her shower, a smile on her face. She had to keep going, keep finding reasons to get him out of his room. She knew it was a long shot, but maybe he’d be happier, maybe he could return to some kind of normal interaction with her and people.


-2-

“What about this one?” Monica, sitting next to Dean on the couch, flipped through a magazine to another photo of her in a bikini.

“Yeah it’s fine.”

“What do you like about it?”

“Ugh. I guess, I don’t know,” Dean struggled to come up with something while looking at his mother in a bikini.

“It’s red.”

“Red? That’s it?”

Dean shrugged.

“Do you like the lighting? What about the posing? Do you think I should or could get away from doing beach stuff and focus more on photo shoots in gyms?”

Monica flipped to another magazine, hoping to keep her son out of his room, engaged and interacting with her. She turned to a photo of her lifting dumbbells and smiling. “Maybe more like that?”

“I guess.”

Thinking seriously for a moment, Monica wondered about her body. “Do you think my figure is ok for a bikini?”

She opened another magazine, she was kneeling in front of a hugely muscular man, looking over her shoulder.

“You look fine. Your, uh, body, is fine,” Dean said.

“Thanks,” Monica closed the magazine, setting them on the coffee table in front of her. Dean started to stand, but she pulled him back onto the couch.

“Spend more time with me, please?”

“Fine,” Dean said, sitting back against the couch.

Monica snuggled close, wrapping her arms around Dean. He lost weight since November, since Deanna died. He didn’t look unhealthy, but she could tell. She wanted to change that, she wanted him eating more, she wanted him to rebuild his life.

That night, she followed him to his room for bed. Instead of going right to sleep, she kept him awake as long as she could.

“Roll over,” Monica said. “Your tummy.”

“Why?”

“Please?” Monica wanted to ask if Deanna ever gave him a massage, but didn’t want to bring her up.

“Fine.”

“Have you ever been to a massage parlor or a spa?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Not prying more, Monica sat on his butt, “You’re in luck. I’m learned to give great massages. May I?” she asked, pulling his t-shirt up, not waiting for his answer.

Dean lifted up, letting his mother pull his shirt up all the way. “There we go. Perfect,” Monica said, running her fingernails over his skin.

“Now then, just relax,” Monica began. She went for nearly 20 minutes, deeply massaging his muscles, her hands gliding over his vertebrae, her thumbs working his neck, shoulder blades.

When she was done she leaned down, whispering in his ear, “I won’t charge you a dime for that.” She kissed the back of his neck, “Plus you got a kiss at the end.”

She sat back up, pulling his shirt down, “I guess some places give more than kisses, but they probably charge a lot of money.”

“I know mom. I think they’re called ‘happy endings,’” Dean said.

“How do you know about that?” his mother asked, getting off him, Dean rolling to his back.

“Huh?” she jabbed his side.

“I’ve just heard the term before.”

“I know, I’m joking. Did you like the massage?”

“Yes, thanks,” he said, rolling back over.

Monica smiled, getting in the covers, once again snuggling up to his back for the night. She tried to imagine what he went through and was struggling with every day. She would never give up and make it her mission to see him smile again – nothing else mattered.

***

A week later, Monica got an idea to invite Dean to accompany her to a modeling agency dinner and ball. They were celebrating 20 years of operation. Photographers, models, agents, executives were attending.

Monica gave massages to Dean every other night. She rubbed his back, his thighs, his arms; she pampered him. She noticed a slight difference too. Dean was out of his room more, sitting with her on the couch, eating with her at dinner. Something was working. Monica assumed perhaps a loving human touch was doing it.

He reluctantly agreed to accompany her to the event. Monica practically begged, but Dean finally acquiesced after an extra-long back massage.

Gia was there with a date: Ulysses.

Monica hugged her friend, both women wearing tight dresses, Ulysses a shirt and tie – similar to Dean.

“Gia, this is Dean, my – ”

“Hi!” Gia’s eyes widened, her hand extending for him to shake.

“Hi,” he nodded politely.

“Monica,” Gia whispered, as they sat at the table. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a date. He’s cute. Wow.”

“Oh um, actually – ”

“Monica!” a photographer interrupted her. “It’s so good to see, it’s been awhile.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been spending time with family and – ” Monica glanced to Dean.

“I understand. We’ll work together again soon,” the photographer took his leave; Monica took her seat next to her son.

The event was far more boring than Monica thought it’d be. She was happy the drive wasn’t too far; there was no need for her to get a hotel room. Gia and Ulysses had to though.

Slow music played and Monica asked Dean to dance with her. He was reluctant yet again, but one motherly look bordering on asking “please?” and commanding him “now” caused him to stand, walking with her to the floor.

“It’s a little boring here tonight. But I have you, so it’s not so bad,” Monica said, her hands resting on his shoulders, his on her waist.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You look great tonight. Those pants are a little loose on you, but your tie matches my eyes. I know that’s silly, but – ”

“No. It’s fine, Mom.”

They were quiet while they slowly spun in a circle.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell that chick I’m your son?”

“I tried! I could’ve sworn I told her your name, but I guess I didn’t. Then tonight I was interrupted,” Monica shrugged. “We don’t really look all that similar. Same ears and nose I guess. Your face isn’t as round as mine.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I got darker hair.”

“Yes, which reminds me. I may dye mine again. Did you think the light-brown shade looked nice on me?”

“Sure, Mom.”

Monica rested her head on his shoulder, “You don’t mind being here with me? With your mom? I know you didn’t want to go, but pretend there are no people around, are you ok with just me and like this?”

Dean sighed, “No, I don’t mind. It’s ok. You’re a lovely woman.”

Monica peered to his eyes, her lips curling to a soft smile. She ran her fingers through his hair. Before she was able to tell him she loved him, she was interrupted by Gia.

The taller brunette was pulling out keys from her purse. “Hi, I’m going back to Ulysses’ room. Would you and Dean like to join us?”

Monica knew what Gia was suggesting. “Oh, no thanks. I think we’ll head home a little early tonight.”

“Mmm, sounds fun,” Gia glanced discreetly at Dean. He didn’t notice.

“You two have a nice night,” Gia said, Ulysses nodded, her arm around his. Gia winked at Monica before turning to leave.

Monica did have a wonderful night. Dean lay on his back in bed, instead of his side. She smiled, her head on his chest, his arm around her. She felt so warm, at home.

“Good night. I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

Monica beamed, kissing his t-shirt covered chest. “Baby steps,” she thought.


-3-

Monica knew it would be difficult. She’s never been in his shoes, but as a mother, felt like it was her duty to see Dean through this difficult time. Everything else was on hold – including her career.

She was waiting for Dean to arrive in the garage to join her workout. He joined her a few times, tiring out, and leaving early to shower – but he joined her, that was the most important thing.

Monica was talking to one of the agents that scheduled photo shoots. He wanted her to go to Los Angeles for a shoot with Ulysses. Monica told him she wasn’t sure. Dean getting better was her main priority.

An hour later, Dean, exhausted sat in a nearby chair, his mother still on the treadmill.

“Come on, don’t tire out. You’re doing great!” she encouraged him.

“Need to rest a bit,” he replied, drinking from his water bottle.

“You know I’ve heard exercise is the most effective and less used anti-depressant out there,” Monica said, immediately regretting her words, not wanting to make Dean feel bad. “I mean, uh, I always feel cheery and in a great mood when I’m done. Tired, but I feel great.”

“Heh, yeah, maybe.”

Dean caught his breath and watched his mother jog on the treadmill. “Have you,” he said, watching her tanned, toned legs work.

“Hmm?” Monica asked.

“Have you thought about working more?”

“You know,” Monica slowed the treadmill down, hopping off. “One of the agents that works with me called earlier. He said I was requested for a shoot in LA.”

“You should go.”

“Nope. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because,” Monica didn’t want to make him feel bad. “I’m having a great time here with you. I love snuggling up to you at night,” she smiled, wiping her forehead.

“Ah, I see.”

Monica watched her son peer out of the open garage, something was on his mind. She assumed it was Deanna.

“Come with me,” she said.

“Huh?”

“To LA for the shoot. You could come with me. You could be my assistant,” Monica smiled.

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” she sat in his lap, her arm around his shoulder. “I’d love it. I’d make some money and spend time with my favorite person.”

Dean shrugged, eyes to her thigh.

Monica tipped his chin, smiling at his face. “Please?”

“I’ll think about it,” Dean said. Monica kissed his forehead and got off his lap.

That night after dinner and a movie on the couch, Monica was in Dean’s arms again. He didn’t go right to sleep, instead holding her against him, his fingers running through her long curls.

“I’ll go,” he spoke up, waking his mother.

“Huh? What?”

“I said I’ll go with you. To LA.”

Monica smiled, rising up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

***

“Who’s this? Who are you?” the annoying photograph asked Monica and Dean on the Malibu beach location.

“Oh, this is Dean, he’s my – ” Monica said.

“Hey, no! No! Those go there!” the photographer interrupted Monica, shouting orders to a staff member.

Monica shrugged, shooting her son a smile. “Just hang out here, behind the cameras. Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Yeah, it’s nice here,” Dean said, looking around at the beach, the Pacific Ocean behind him.

“I agree. We’ll have a wonderful dinner tonight too,” Monica said, removing the towel, exposing her tanned body, wearing a thong bikini. She left Dean, making her way to Ulysses.

“Hi,” Ulysses said. He was already in position, wearing tiny bright orange spandex shorts.

Monica smiled at him, glancing to the shorts. “Those look horrible.”

“I agree, but I’m getting paid. Besides they match your bikini,” he said.

She glanced once more to his shorts, particularly the bulge therein. “No,” Monica told herself, stopping the images of herself on her knees, in the sand, sucking Ulysses’ dick as the sun set from appearing in her head. She turned around and waited for the photographer.

The photographer, barking orders the whole time, set his camera up. He was actually happy to work with Monica, but no one could tell based on how he bossed everyone around.

Monica and Ulysses took it with stride, doing their best on the job.

“Oh yeah, just like that,” the photographer said, when Monica went to her knees, her hand on Ulysses’ thigh. She glanced at Dean, smiling at him and for the camera simultaneously.

“Perfect, perfect! Mon, stand,” he kept taking photos.

“Now turn around,” he ordered. Monica complied, smiling over her shoulder, her hand on Ulysses’ stomach, his hand on her back just above her ass.

Dean watched intently. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty. Over the years, he never cared or bothered to look at her work – until that night on the couch. Here he was in person, seeing his mother work, posing with a muscular hunk.

A couple hours later, after a few breaks to adjust equipment, Monica was spending her time with Dean as they ate sandwiches.

“That’s it. We’re done for today, pack it up,” the photographer commanded.

Monica gave Ulysses a hug, “Thanks. Good seeing you again.”

Dean watched the exchange, nodding goodbye to Ulysses.

Monica grabbed her towel and bag from Dean, “Ready?”

She grabbed his hand and they left the beach. Dean looked over his shoulder at Ulysses.

The dinner was at an upscale restaurant near the beach. Dean and Monica both dressed up and were enjoying wine.

“Mom, that guy. Why don’t you hang out with him while we’re here?” Dean asked in between sips.

“What?” Monica was a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well, I mean, I just figured you’d have more fun with him. Look at him. Look at you for that matter.”

“Thank you,” she felt her cheeks redden. “But Dean, I don’t care about hanging out with him,” she placed her hand on his. “I told you, you’re the only one I want to spend time with.”

“I know, but Mom, come on. You two are similar. Same field. Same physical fitness level or whatever it’s called.”

“He’s with Gia. I think,” Monica told a half-truth.

“I simply suggested you hang out with him, I didn’t mean – ”

“No. You are all I care to spend time with. Case closed, young man,” Monica winked.

“Fine,” Dean sipped more wine.

Dean drove back to the hotel, his mother a bit too tipsy.

He helped her enter the room. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she slurred.

“Get over here,” Monica tried to push him on the bed.

“You mean ‘there’ since you’re pushing me to a place, not pulling me to one?”

“Shut up,” Monica climbed on top of him, straddling him, causing him to lie on his back.

“I love you. So much, more than anything,” she hugged him, her wild curls tickling his face. He patted her back and moved a few locks away from his mouth.

“Love you too.”

“You’re all that matters. I want you to be happy again,” Monica confessed.

“Mom, I don’t – ”

“Shhhh,” she rose on her elbows, staring into his face. She gave him a sloppy kiss on the lips.

“Um, Mom?”

“Sorry. Now get off me and get in the bed.”

“But you’re the one on me.”

“Shut up,” Monica said, climbing off her son, pulling the covers back. Dean followed suit, doing the same, after taking his shoes and pants off.

Lying there in his boxers and untucked shirt, he held his inebriated mother, still in her dress. He kissed her head, smiled softly and went to sleep.


-4-

“You’re wearing me out, Mom,” Dean, out of breath, sat a barbell down and wiped his forehead with his t-shirt. They were back home a few days later and working out in the garage.

“Aww, come on now, it’s not that bad,” his mother tickled his side, causing him to back away, inadvertently hitting the chair with the back of legs, deciding to sit on it.

Monica smiled down at him, gathering up sweat from her exposed midriff and flinging it on her son. “Guess we should hit the showers,” she joked.

“We?”

She didn’t answer, instead grabbing her towel and sitting on Dean – straddling him while wiping his face of sweat.

When she was done, she held his face, caressing it with her thumbs, looking into his eyes. They said nothing for nearly a minute.

“Smile for me?” Monica asked.

“Mom – ”

“Please? It’s the most beautiful sight in the world to me.”

Dean shook his head, lowering his eyes to her tummy. Looking to her face, he offered a weak, yet genuine, smile.

“Thank you,” his mother smiled back.

She forgot she was straddling him, even when his hands went to her sweaty waist, sliding to the small of her back.

She ran her fingers through his hair, mom and son gazing to the other’s face.

Then the chair broke.

Monica and Dean came crashing down, his mother laughing. Dean slid to the floor, holding her in his arms. “You ok?”

“I’m fine!” Monica laughed, throwing her arms around him.

“Alright, let’s get up,” he said, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Come on, let’s go. Crappy old chair,” Dean grumbled.

“Nope. You’ll have to go to your feet, squeeze your butt muscles and lift up, while holding me.”

“What? Just stand up.”

“No, do that part of a squat, using me as extra weight. You can carry me into the house.”

“Fine,” Dean went to his feet, his mother’s legs around him. “Ready? Here we go.”

He stood, Monica nearly slipping off him. “Grab me!”

Dean quickly caught her before her slippery arms slid off his neck. Their eyes widened, unable to move. Dean’s hands were firmly holding his mother by her ass.

“Um, I’ll put you down now,” he said after a brief moment of embarrassment.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

She unwrapped her legs when he set her down and headed inside. In the shower, Monica tried not to be bothered by the brief exchange, though she couldn’t deny it felt a little strange – sexual, especially when he held her in place by her waist. She pushed those thoughts aside and continued on her mission. Dean was getting better and better each day. She wondered if his time of mourning was nearly over.

***

A couple weeks passed. Monica and her son were inseparable. They went out to dinner, to movies, to the beach. Dean even made jokes about the butt grabbing incident. Monica flirted back with him, offering her thong covered butt to him at the beach one weekend. He shook his head, declining. His mother shrugged, told him it was his loss, and dove into the water.

Dean went on another photo shoot with Monica. It was the same annoying photographer and Ulysses again.

“Yes! Just like that,” the photographer said. “No! Your hand here,” he grabbed Monica’s hand placing it on Ulysses’ stomach.

“Good, now look over that way, tilt your chin up,” he said.

Monica and Ulysses went with it, knowing the photographer loved working with them even if he was pushy.

After the shoot, Monica hugged Dean, kissing his cheek.

“You look great, as usual, Mom,” Dean said.

“Thank you!” Monica took her bag from him.

“Hey I was thinking you and Ulysses could go out to dinner tonight,” Dean suggested.

“Huh? No, silly, I’m ordering room service for us tonight.”

“I know, but don’t you want to go out?”

“He’s with Gia, I told you that.”

“Is he though?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, what’s this about?”

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together. You don’t have to be around me 24/7. I’m not going to do anything horrible to myself. I’m feeling better. If you want to go out and have a nice evening, go.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“Yes, but, it could be too much. You know? You’re not my,” Dean paused. “If you want to date, you should. I’ll be fine. Really, I will,” Dean explained.

Monica was hurt. She wanted another evening with her son. She didn’t want to be with anyone else.

“Hey, it’s cool. I just don’t want us feeling weird about being around each all the time.”

“Ok,” Monica nodded, rummaging through her bag, unable to look at her son. She felt like crying. She imagined sharing ice cream, wine, after a nice veggie platter first with Dean.

She threw a towel around her shoulder and walked toward Ulysses.

“Hey,” she hugged him. “Dinner tonight?”

Ulysses looked to Dean, watching him pack her things, “Uh. Sure, I guess.”

Eyes on Monica again, “Aren’t you and him togeth – ”

“You’re room?” Monica interrupted.

***

She tried to be talkative, she tried to flirt; they even shared a room service dessert – like she would’ve with Dean. Nothing felt right.

Monica got off his room’s couch, walking to the balcony, seeing the moonlit ocean.

Ulysses sensed something was wrong, approaching her from behind, his hands on her shoulders. “You ok?” he kissed her neck.

Monica closed her eyes, tilting her head, letting him kiss her neck again. She could feel his erection through his pants against her ass.

She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. “It’s Dean. He and I are, we’re, uh – ”

“Monica, it’s fine. It’s ok. I should’ve asked on the beach. You and he aren’t like Gia and I.”

“Huh?”

“Or how you and I were. You know, friends, that have a little fun every once in a while. I see you and him together; I should’ve known you two were a couple. I should’ve said no to dinner. I’m sorry,” Ulysses confessed.

“Oh, um, yes, well – ”

“So you like the younger guys,” Ulysses chuckled. “Why don’t you go to him now? You seemed upset on the beach. Maybe go work things out with him. Watching you two at the photo shoots, I can tell you’re in love – he’s a lucky guy.”

Monica didn’t know what to say. “Uh, sure, yeah I’ll do that.”

Ulysses walked her to the door, giving her a hug goodnight. Her mouth hung open when he closed the door. She turned, making her way back to her and Dean’s room.

“Hey. You’re back,” Dean said, watching his mother enter. He was flipping through the television.

“Yep.”

“How was dinner?”

“Fine,” Monica undressed down to her bra and thong.

“He’s a lucky guy. Being able to work with and date you,” Dean complimented her.

She ignored her pajamas and climbed into bed, his arm going around her. “This is where I want to be.”

Dean sighed, pulling her close, kissing her head. “Ok, Mom. As long as you’re happy.”

“As long as I’m happy?” Monica sat up. “Dean, it’s you who I want to be happy. We haven’t talked about anything; about her,” Monica said referring to Deanna.

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.”

She paused a moment, caressing his face. “The wedding date you two set is coming up soon.”

“I know.”

She said no more, lying back down in his arms, her hand slowly rubbing his chest and stomach.


-5-

“Are you and Dean coming?” Gia asked Monica on the phone. She was referring to Key West photo shoot on a cruise ship on Valentine’s Day weekend. Gia was also naked, lying on her stomach, Ulysses peppering her back and ass with kisses.

“Yep, we sure are,” Monica answered. She was sitting on Dean’s lap again, watching him stare blankly forward. She was concerned about him again. He and Deanna would be getting married that weekend. Monica would’ve danced with her son at the wedding that wasn’t happening now.

“Great! He seems like a nice guy. Ulysses was telling me about you two, how great you looked together,” Gia said, suppressing a moan as Ulysses brought her ass to his face behind her.

“Yes. He’s wonderful,” Monica ran her fingers through his hair. “Listen, Gia, the thing about Dean – I’ve been trying to tell you, but keep getting interrupted. Dean is actually my – ”

There was a knock at Gia’s door, “Oh geez, I better go. TJ, Ulysses’ friend is here. I’ve never had two men at once! I’m excited. I’ll talk to you later!” Gia ended the call.

“Wow,” Monica set her phone down. She resumed watching her quiet son. She knew Deanna and their wedding was on his mind.

Trying to take his mind off it, Monica spoke up, “Gia and Ulysses think you’re my boyfriend.”

That did the trick. Dean was shaken from his trance. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to tell them you’re my son, but I keep getting interrupted. Deep down, I don’t care if they think that,” Monica smiled.

Dean nodded, placing his hand on her bare thigh. “I guess it’s not a big deal.”

“Luckily, nothing awkward has come up yet,” Monica said.

“Right.”

“So, boyfriend, take me to bed.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Pick me from here, use those butt muscles and lift me off this couch!”

Dean chuckled, arms around her legs and waist, and lifted her. He took her to bed like she told him, laying her on his mattress. She still slept in his room with him.

“You’d make a great boyfriend,” Monica said, rubbing his arms, after he placed her on the mattress and sat there for a moment.

“Mom, that’s a little weird.”

“I know. But I’m just saying it as a woman, not your mother.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Monica sat up, grabbing his face, kissing his cheek then his lips. “Are you coming with me to Key West?”

“Might as well. My leave of absence from work is almost over. I should go while I can.”

“Good idea. We’ll have a great time.”

***

Dean watched his mother from an upper deck of the ship. Monica, with a fresh light-brown with blonde highlights dye job, was with Gia, Ulysses, and several other models. They were shooting a promotion for a fitness program the cruise line had on their ships. It would go into brochures and other materials marketing would use. It would turn into a nice weekend getaway after the shoot.

Deanna was on his mind. This was their wedding weekend – a few days before Valentine’s Day. He pictured the two of them on this ship, a honeymoon, holding hands, looking out into the tropical waters. Instead, his mother came into view. She was waving up at him from below in between photos. She playfully blew him a kiss.

Monica no longer cared that she had been unable to tell her coworkers the man she’s with is her son. She was happy Dean was with her.

At dinner in the restaurant, the foursome sat at a round booth, sharing appetizers and drinks. Monica noticed Gia’s hand on Ulysses’ thigh; she mimicked it, putting her own hand on Dean’s. He put his arm around her pulling her in close, while Gia and his mother talked about career goals and stories from past shoots. Dean was mostly quiet.

“I have some champagne in my room,” Gia said. “Join us?” she asked Monica and Dean.

Monica thought a little champagne and good company would help Dean take his mind off of things. She answered yes for both of them.

This turned out to be a mistake – the awkward situation that hadn’t yet happened, did.

All four of them were on Gia’s bed, the women being held by the men, drinking champagne. Gia had several glasses and was quite drunk.

“Ok, time to take care of our men,” Gia blurted out, tossing her empty glass over her shoulder.

Monica’s mouth dropped, watching Gia fling her dress off, over her head. She turned around, her pussy going to Ulysses’ face. He had a few glasses too and didn’t bother stopping her. Monica watched Gia fish his cock out of his pants, sucking, slobbering all over it, while Ulysses tongue dove into her pussy.

“Ok, we should leave. Dean,” Monica nodded toward the door.

Gia didn’t care or pay attention. Monica glanced over her shoulder before she exited the room to see Gia deep throating Ulysses, gagging on his cock in the process.

“I am so, so sorry,” Monica, embarrassed led Dean back to their room. “She was drinking, she thinks you and I are a couple.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said.

Stopping at their room door, Monica hugged him, ending the embrace with a quick kiss on the lips. “Let’s change and find one of the hot tubs.”

“Alright. Fine with me,” he put his arm around her and entered their room.

***

They walked along the deck of the ship. Monica in a white thong bikini with matching white sash around her hips. It was long, extending to her knees.

They were holding hands, Dean looking away out into the moonlit water.

“Dean, let’s talk,” Monica stopped him. They stood at a rail, Dean’s eyes down to the waves below.

“Please tell me how you’re doing. Are you feeling better? Am I helping?” Monica asked.

Dean sighed. “I guess. I’m still here.”

“Yes, but how do you feel?” she turned him toward her, her hands rubbing his chest and shoulders.

Dean thought for a moment before answering. “It’s hard. Very difficult. We had everything planned. It seemed so perfect. We were going to be married this weekend. She liked you, I liked her family. She loved me. Now it’s gone. Forever.”

“No, it’s not gone forever,” Monica grabbed his face, kissing his lips. “I love you. I’m here for you.”

“I know but you’re my – ”

“Mom? Yes and I’m going to help you get through this,” she kissed his lips again.

Dean was tearing up, shaking his head, “But.”

“No buts,” another kiss on the lips. He placed his hands on her waist, she kissed him again. Monica gazed into his eyes and she still saw so much sadness, emptiness. She had no words, nothing to say, so she kissed him again.

And again, and again.

He pulled her closer to his body; she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips continuously kissing his. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to.

The kisses became slower, longer, and more passionate. Within minutes, they were making out.

Dean ended it, his forehead resting against hers, “I’m sorry, I’m – ”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I, uh, shouldn’t have – ”

“No, I wanted it. I want it. I want you,” Monica whispered. Dean gulped and nodded.

They kissed once more, Monica’s spine tingling, her legs weak. She ended the kiss, took his hand, and led her son back to their room.


-6-

They backed into their room, still kissing, unable to stop themselves. They stumbled over luggage, missing their destination – the bed. They ended up in front of the balcony window, eyes still closed; the room dark except for moonlight.

Monica pictured his face at Deanna’s funeral, his blank, empty expression for over a month after it. She saw him in his bed, still, unmoving from depression. She vowed to make sure her son would never be in that state again.

Dean broke the kiss, out of breath, gently pushing his mother away at her shoulders. “Mom, stop, let’s stop. This is crazy.”
-
“I agree, but I don’t want to stop.”

“We can’t go further.”

“Do you want to though?” his mother asked, stepping closer to him.

Dean looked her over, her sweet face lovingly looking at him in the moonlight. “I, I think.”

She nodded, removed her sash, revealing her thong-covered bottom and placed her hands on his chest. “Then let’s keep going. This would be your wedding weekend. I’m here for you, in every way.”

Dean’s hands went to her waist, pulling her against him.

“Kiss me,” his mother said.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He dove in, meeting her open mouth. His forehead was beading with sweat; their hearts were racing, breathing heavily out of their noses. They moaned into each other’s mouths. Monica never felt more love in her life, love for Dean, her son.

She reached behind her, unclasping her bikini top. She threw her arms around Dean again, pulling him in for an even deeper kiss. His hands slowly moved to her ass, cupping and squeezing it gently.

Monica worked with his swimming trunks, untying the cord, pulling them, tugging them down, their eyes still closed and mouths still joined.

She felt his erection against her stomach. Ignoring it, she tugged at her thong bottoms, pulling them down, stepping out of them. They resumed their frantic kissing, hands roaming all over each other, both completely naked.

They moved toward the bed. Monica turned them around, gently pushing Dean on it. He sat on the edge of the bed, his mother straddling him, still kissing. She pushed him to his back, Monica going with him, kissing his neck, chest, down his stomach to his impressive manhood.

Kissing all around the base of the shaft and balls; her hands sliding up to his mouth, and her fingers going inside it. Dean sucked on her index and middle fingers.

“Take care of our men,” Gia’s words echoed in Monica’s head as she opened wide and lovingly sucked her man’s cock, one hand gliding all over his chest, the other over his face while two of its fingers were being sucked on by him.

She didn’t care Dean’s dick was in her mouth. Monica would love him this night, close to his wedding day night, in the same way Deanna would if she were still alive.

Dean moaned, his mother’s hands on his shaft, jacking it vigorously while her head bobbed up and down on, her eyes never looking away from his face.

Dean rose to his elbow, a hand on his mother’s head, his fingers combing through her wild curly hair. He watched her suck and worship his cock with ragged breath.

He threw his head back, moaning again. Monica stopped sucking him, causing him to look to her once more. She wanted his cum, but not down her throat.

She jumped on him, kissing him again, not caring if he was tasting his own cock on her lips. Her tongue swirling all around his, she grabbed the base of his cock, quickly bringing it to her pussy. Once the tip was at her dripping entrance, she released it and slammed herself on it, impaling herself with his wonderful rod.

Both mom and son moaned at the same time, they became still, holding one another, breathing heavily. Monica nearly came right there, her body tensing up in Dean’s arms. Her hot breath in his face, their mouths open, exhaling into each other’s, she began.

Her mission was to make her man cum, to show him how loved he was in every way, to take care of him just like Gia was doing to Ulysses that very moment down the hall. This was different though. While Gia was on all fours, telling Ulysses to fuck her harder, like a porn star might, Monica was staring in Dean’s face, using her body to pleasure him, to love him.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

One hand on the back of his head, the other on his shoulder, Monica was squatting, bouncing up and down on Dean’s cock. Staring into each other’s eyes, panting heavily in each other’s face, they made love.

She watched his face contort with pleasure, his hands squeezing her butt, her sides, a breast, finally holding her head just like she held his.

She watched him blink rapidly, his bottom lip quivering; she felt his cock get harder inside her. He was cumming.

“Ahh, M-Mom!” he cried. Monica felt his cock explode inside her, filling her with his warm, precious seed. She couldn’t help but climax herself.

“Dean!” she shook, pulling him in for a kiss.

They moaned into one another’s mouths, the kiss ending when their orgasms subsided. Out of breath they peered into one another’s eyes.

She threw her arms around her son, holding him against her. His cock finally became weak, slurping out of her semen-oozing pussy. Dean grabbed his mother, sliding across the mattress toward the pillows.

He held her in his arms, Monica kissing tenderly at his chest while rubbing his stomach.

Several moments later, Dean rolled over, his back toward Monica. She snuggled up to his naked body with her own. The image of his face while cumming, his cock erupting inside her, their kisses, her climax all replaying inside her head.

They didn’t say another word the rest of the night. Sleep found them soon.

***

Monica woke the next morning finding herself alone in bed, sunlight shining on her naked body. She felt around for Dean, but he was gone. She sat up, looking around the empty room.

Dean appeared from the bathroom, freshly showered, and fully dressed. His bag was packed and by the door.

“Hey,” Monica smiled at him.

Dean nodded, not making eye contact, saying nothing.

Monica showered alone. Dean wasn’t in the room when she appeared naked from the bathroom. She shrugged, got dressed and packed.

After her bag was packed her son re-entered their room. He grabbed his own bag, nodded to his mother again and left.

Gia and Ulysses were too hung-over and sleepy to notice things between Dean and Monica. Monica was perfectly capable of noticing her son’s demeanor. He said nothing to her on the shuttle ride back to the parking lot, he said nothing to her on the way home, shaking his head, holding his hand up to stop of his mother from continuing when she said his name half-way home.

The behavior continued upon their return. Dean took to his room, avoiding his mother as best he could.

Monica was on the verge of tears sitting alone in her room after dinner. “I made things worse,” she cried. Making love to Dean had an adverse effect. Never once in her desire to please him and heal his heart did she consider by crossing the line with him could ruin their relationship.

She cried herself to sleep, alone, in her bed the first time since Dean moved in.


-7-

Dean returned to his old routine for the next several days. The only difference is that his door remained closed and he wasn’t allowing his mother to join him in bed.

One day the following week, Dean was gone when she woke up. Monica panicked when she saw his car gone, the first time it had left the driveway since he arrived. She searched his room; everything was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. She called him, no answer. She texted him asking where he was. An hour passed and she got a reply.

“Work.”

A sigh of relief came over her. His leave of absence period from work was over.

Dean came home that night, still not saying a word to Monica. She left dinner on his bed and waited for him to come out of his room. He never did.

The weekend arrived, Monica wanting so badly to talk to him, to see him, was miserable. Saturday morning she woke up, hearing Dean moving about the house.

“What are you doing?” she asked angrily, already knowing the answer. Dean was gathering his belongs, loading his car. He was moving out.

“Found an apartment. Signing papers today,” he said, loading a box in his car. Monica was speechless.

She nodded and left him be. Sitting at the kitchen table, she shook her head, she brought this on herself. In one taboo, perverse, abnormal moment she and her son had sex. Now he was leaving, moving on, possibly ashamed and guilt-ridden over their actions.

Monica looked to a box near the kitchen. Eyes tearing up, she opened it, seeing the tiny jewelry box containing Deanna’s engagement ring. Without thinking, Monica took it out and put it on her left ring finger. She cried again, holding her hand out – the ring fit her perfectly.

“No,” she said. She wasn’t letting him leave.

Monica rushed to the garage, finding Dean moving a box, setting it down near the open back door of his car. He was walking back into the garage when his mother grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the wall, kissing him as hard as she could.

“Mom! What are you – ”

“You aren’t leaving! You’re staying with me,” Monica kissed him again just as hard.

“Get off!” Dean grabbed her wrists, forcefully removing them from his shoulder. “Stop.”

“You can’t leave. Please.”

Dean sighed heavily, looking to his right, his hopes to avoid this awkwardness gone, “Mom, I have to go. I have to get on with my life.”

“Look at me,” Monica said. “Now.”

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked.

“Yes, it was great, but that’s beside the point. It was wrong, it was illegal, it was – ”

“But you enjoyed it. It made you happy?”

“It did. It was still wrong though. I was weak, I gave in. I can’t do that again,” Dean said.

Monica looked to her left ring finger, seeing Deanna’s engagement ring still on it. “It’s a perfect fit,” she told her son.

“I can be everything for you. I can heal your heart, fill the void, I can love you like no other,” his mother said, placing her left hand on his shoulder.

Dean eyed the ring, “Mom.”

“Stay. Stay with me. I’ll love you like a mother, I’ll love you like a,” Monica looked to the ring again. “Like a wife.”

Dean slowly removed her hand from his shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb, noticing how nice the ring looked on her hand. A moment passed without words.

“We’d have to keep it a secret,” Dean finally spoke up. “It could ruin your career, we could go to prison, we could get the death penalty,” he joked, a tiny smile forming on his face.

Monica smiled back. “No one will know. We’d go on living like this. To family you’d still be my son. To friends who don’t know you, something else.”

They held hands, “Are you sure about this?” Dean asked.

“Are you?”

Dean shrugged.

“Maybe this will help,” his mother said, slowing bringing her hands to his face, stepping forward kissing him.

It was slow and tender, her lips pressing against his. His hand at her waist once more, he kissed back, their lips parting slightly.

“Well?” Monica asked.

Dean didn’t answer with words. He squatted and pick up his mother, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hand on her ass.

He didn’t set her down like before, instead he carried her into the house, kissing her the whole way to her bedroom.

When they arrived, they kept kissing, undressing one another.

Dean guided her to her bed, causing her to sit on the edge of it. He pushed her to her back, kissing at her neck, down to her breasts, her nipples, flat stomach, and then finally arriving at her clit. He licked and sucked it before driving his tongue deep into her pussy.

As he swirled his tongue inside her, one hand massaged her breasts, tweaking the nipples. His other hand was on her face, two of his fingers slipping into her mouth. Monica sucked on his just like he sucked on hers.

Dean mimicked his mother’s action from their first time together. This time he was the one showing her how much he loved her. He was giving her pleasure and he was telling her that he wanted her in every way – just like she did with him.

Monica grabbed at his short hair, rising to her elbow. His eyes were focused on hers, his mouth covering her pussy, his tongue inside it.

She arched back, falling to her back, moaning, crying out as she gripped the hand that was on her breast. “Dean!”

Slurping away at her pussy until her orgasm subsided, Dean climbed on top of her, her legs instinctively spreading and wrapping around him. He kissed her hard, not caring if she tasted her own pussy on his tongue.

His free hand guided his cock in where it belonged. He thrust once, hard, holding it and staring into her face.

Monica smiled and nodded, telling her son to do it, to make her his.

Maintaining eye contact, their hot breath on each others’ face, Dean thrust away, pumping in and out of Monica.

He removed her hands from his head, pinning them down. He rolled his hips, his mother’s bed banging against the wall. Monica’s gripped his hands as this man took her, owning her.

One of her hands slipped free and went to his face. “Yes, yes,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Cum in me again.”

“Are you mine forever?” he asked, working up a sweat.

“Forever,” his mother replied.

Dean moaned. His and her body’s tensing up, approaching a mutual climax.

“Oh, Dean, Dean!”

“Ahhh, Mom!”

Their bodies became rigid, tight, still. They kissed one another, their open mouths covering the other while waves of pleasure washed over them and he filled her pussy to the brim with his seed.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, her fingers running through his hair.

Dean caught his breath and rolled off her, lying on his side facing her this time. Monica rolled over to face him too, caressing his face, kissing him tenderly on the lips.

“I love you. So much,” his mother said.

“I love you too,” Dean said, smiling at his mother. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Several moments later, they were taking a nice mid-morning nap.


-8-

Dean moved, but not out of his mother’s house, only out of the guest room he was in. Into her bed, their bed, he moved.

His new routine was going to work, coming home, seeing a dinner prepared. Monica, usually naked, would suck his cock while he ate. They would shower together, talk about their day or upcoming events, and then go to bed.

Every night was the same. The only difference was the position they were in. Doggy style, reverse cow-girl, missionary, 69, standing, lotus blossom, they did it all.

Since Dean was back at work fulltime, he could only accompany his mother on a few photo shoots that were closer to home on the weekends.

In one such photo shoot on the beach, Monica was kneeling before Ulysses once again, grinning at her son. When the photographer looked away, she put her hand in front of Ulysses’ crotch, which was near her face, and made a hand gesture like she was sucking it. She then pointed to Dean. Ulysses saw the exchange.

“So uh, are you two in an open relationship after all? You want mine or his tonight?” Ulysses asked during a break.

“Oh crap! You saw that? I was being silly and messing with him,” Monica explained.

“Ah, I see,” Ulysses nodded.

“Aww,” Monica hugged the muscular man, Dean watching from a few yards away.

Monica ended the hug and walked toward her son. He watched her sexy, toned frame, get closer. He couldn’t believe this woman, his fitness model mom, wanted him and no one else.

“It’s true,” Monica said, popping Dean’s cockhead out of her mouth back home that night. “You’re all I want and need.”

The rest of the weekend they