The Vacation Begins!

3:00 a.m. Right on cue, the blaring alarm tone I'd set on my phone--the same one that dragged me out of bed every morning for work--went off. I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. As much as I loved vacation, flying this early meant getting up in the middle of the night. I sat up, swung my legs out of bed, and rubbed my eyes. Standing up, I shuffled to the closet, grabbed one of my long tees, and slipped it on. I've always been a morning grump, and at this hour, nothing happens without coffee! Still half-asleep, I opened my door, but before heading to the kitchen, I wanted to wake Junior.

I cracked his door open slightly and said softly, "Junior, time to get up." No response.

So, I padded into his room, knelt on his bed with one knee, and leaned over him. I grabbed his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up."

He mumbled something, then turned toward me, opening his eyes. "Morning, Mom," he said with a smile. But that smile wasn't just for the morning--it was more for the view he had. Since I was leaning forward, he had a straight shot down my shirt, right between my hanging breasts.

I met his gaze, gave him a kiss on the forehead, and pushed myself back up. "You've dreamed enough--out of bed," I said with a smile. I stood up and turned to leave, adding over my shoulder, "I'll get your coffee going too."

Five minutes later, Junior joined me in the kitchen. He'd thrown on a baggy tee, but his shorts were still tented with a noticeable bulge. "If I were you, I'd take care of that campsite before you have your coffee," I teased with a grin.

He got the hint immediately, turned around, and came back to the kitchen a short while later. "Couldn't you have booked a later flight? This has to violate the Geneva Conventions, getting up this early," he grumbled, taking his first sip of coffee.

I gave him a sympathetic look and said, "Well, then I'll just fly solo next time--you can sleep in."

"Never ever," he grinned back. "You think I'd miss out on watching you in those hot bikinis? I'd never get to see that otherwise. Plus, I've got to keep an eye on you, so you don't fall for some random guy."

I choked on my coffee, coughing up a sip that splattered right onto my long tee. Dominic added with a smirk, "And the way you handle coffee, I'll probably have to help you wash up and change three times a day."

I stood up, shaking my head. "What have I brought into this world? My own son getting turned on by his mom." I playfully cupped my breasts, pushing them up a bit for effect. "Since this shirt's a mess, I might as well shower now. We shouldn't dawdle--the taxi's picking us up at 5 a.m."

I grabbed some underwear from my bedroom and took it to the shower, getting ready without any rush. After 25 minutes, when I left the bathroom, I called out to my son, "Bathroom's free--you can go in now." As I heard Dominic start his shower from my bedroom, I quickly put my suitcase on the bed. There was something I hadn't packed yesterday that absolutely had to come along. Tomorrow was Dominic's 18th birthday. Since he loved photography and his camera had died last year, I'd decided to get him a digital DSLR as a gift. He'd be thrilled about that.

I also wanted to pack my two "pleasure helpers," but I didn't want Junior catching on. He'd probably figured out I had a vibrator, but he didn't need to know I often wore Ben Wa balls too. I used them at home when he was hovering around, leaving me no time to take care of myself. When the urge hit, I'd slip away to the basement under the pretense of doing laundry. Of course, I always kept an ear out if he followed me to sneak a peek. By then, I was usually so close that it didn't take long to get myself off to cloud nine.

With everything packed, I zipped up the suitcase and finished getting dressed. I opted for comfy sweatpants and a shirt. I did put on a bra but skipped the panties. No one would know, and I liked doing that. At home, I never wore underwear. For my top, I chose a super tight shirt, but threw a flannel over it, knotting it at my waist. Sure, it emphasized my chest even more, but my 38D boobs were already hard to miss. Once I was dressed, I headed back to the kitchen and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.

Twenty minutes later, my son joined me in the kitchen. When he saw my outfit, he let out a quick whistle. "So, you're taking your old mom like this?" I asked him.

"WOW," was his first reaction, followed by, "Hell yeah, you look hot." Apparently, I'd nailed my son's taste. He'd gone for a tracksuit--shorts and a jacket over it. We both loved flying comfortably and agreed you didn't need to dress up for a flight. While I washed our coffee mugs, Junior took care of feeding our two little beasts. They were just regular house cats, but they didn't mess around when it came to food. Sandra would look after them while we were on vacation.

Just before 5 a.m., the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find our taxi driver. We grabbed our suitcases, locked up the house, and climbed into the taxi, both of us sitting in the back. On the way to the airport, I told my son his hands were off my suitcase from now on. He obviously knew I'd packed his birthday gift.

He'd been trying to figure out what he was getting for his big day for weeks. But, cheeky as ever, he grinned at me and said--loud enough for the driver to hear--"Mom! That's too much information. I don't need to know what sex toys you packed. You can overdo the vacation relaxation, you know." I'd already noticed the driver's constant glances in the rearview mirror since the ride started, but now I could practically see his imagination running wild.

I punched Junior lightly on the arm and said, "One more crack like that, and you can walk to Cancún--got it?" I raised my eyebrow in that exaggerated way I usually reserved for when I meant business.

Dominic shot back with, "Great, now I'll have to wear sweaters the whole trip to hide the bruises." We both grinned at each other. After about 30 minutes, we pulled up to the airport. For this hour, it was already buzzing with activity. Our check-in counter was busy, but after another 20 minutes, we had our boarding passes, and our suitcases were on their way to the plane. To kill the remaining two hours before takeoff, we decided on a cozy breakfast.

We chatted about all sorts of things when I noticed something missing from Junior. "Hey, did you forget your headphones? Weren't you picking them up from Curt yesterday?"

Dominic suddenly got nervous, stammering, "Uh... he wasn't home... well, he was there, but he didn't have time."

Question marks popped up in my eyes. My son was acting like I'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. "What do you mean, no time? Handing over headphones doesn't take hours," I replied, confused.

"He just didn't have time," he stuttered back, now a bit annoyed.

"Junior, spill it--what's going on? Did you guys fight?" I asked, looking at him more firmly. He kept his eyes on his plate and shook his head. "Hello, Earth to Dominic, can you please tell me what's up and look at me when I'm talking to you?" I pressed.

He looked up, his face mirroring the look he'd had yesterday after I'd slapped him unfairly. "I don't want to talk about it," he said defiantly, standing up and heading toward the restrooms.

Well, this vacation's off to a fantastic start, I thought to myself. After 10 minutes, he returned. I wasn't letting it go--I needed to know what was bothering him. "Dominic, I can tell something's making you uncomfortable, and you know you can talk to me about anything. So, what's going on?"

He met my gaze and answered stubbornly, "I caught him fucking."

I couldn't believe my ears and asked, "What do you mean, you caught him fucking?"

He stared at me for a long moment before continuing. "Well, I knew he should've been home, and the Parkers' doorbell has been broken for weeks. So, like always, I went around to the sunroom. Just as I turned the corner, I saw him fucking Claire. I backed off right away."

It took a second for it to sink in. Curt was Claire Parker's son. She was a 45-year-old woman, a long-time friend of mine, married to Thomas Parker, with their daughter Danielle. "You're telling me Curt was screwing his mom?" I asked, a bit stunned.

"Yeah, and not just that," he replied.

"What do you mean, not just that?" I pressed.

"About a foot away, Danielle was sucking off her dad, Thomas. Any more questions?"

I sat there with my mouth open, speechless. Of course, my mind instantly conjured images. Claire was a slim woman, about 5'7", with short black hair. I'd guess her bra size at a 34B. She never dressed provocatively when I visited, and even now, she didn't strike me as particularly flirty--usually jeans, a blouse, and a bra. Her daughter, though, was way more daring. Danielle often lounged around in just panties and a tee when we were over, earning regular scoldings from Claire, who'd make her throw on sweatpants. At 20, two years older than her brother Curt, she was the typical rebellious teen, clearly enjoying teasing Curt and Dominic without ever letting them close.

And the two guys--Curt and Thomas--always undressed me with their eyes during visits. Claire would subtly nudge them about staring at my chest, but I never imagined things got this wild at their place. Soon, it clicked why Dominic was so rattled. Total sensory overload. First, he catches his best friend screwing his mom, then sees the daughter blowing her dad, all in one go. Then he comes home to find his own mom masturbating on his bed. No wonder he was horny as hell. And to top it off, I'd slapped him unfairly. Out of sheer curiosity, I wanted to dig deeper, but I knew he was too overwhelmed for that right now.

So, I did what I thought was best--changed the subject. I grabbed my purse and said, "Let's see if we can find you some headphones at one of the shops. Otherwise, you'll have to talk to me the whole trip."

My son's smile returned instantly. As I stood up, I noticed my nipples had hardened again, pressing against my shirt. Dominic caught it, grinning without a word. We got up and headed off to look for headphones.

Just as we reached our gate, the ground crew announced boarding. My son proudly wore his new headphones--paid for by me--and said, "Thanks, Mom, but let's keep this between us. I don't want Curt or his folks getting in trouble."

I smiled back and replied, "All good, Junior. Let's enjoy our vacation first, and we'll figure the rest out later."

The 4-hour flight to Cancún went smoothly. Junior sat with his eyes closed, letting his phone blast 80s and 90s hits, while his earlier words replayed in my mind. I was sure he'd relieved some serious pressure last night. But I also knew he wouldn't just forget those scenes--they'd probably fuel his fantasies whenever he got horny.

A wild idea started forming in me. To pull it off, I'd need to talk to Kathy, the hotel owner. I'd known her as long as I'd been vacationing here. Her parents moved to Cancún in the early '70s and bought the hotel, long before the big travel companies snatched up the properties.

Kathy was born there too. At 50, she was a bit older than me. I first visited this hotel after my breakup with my ex, when Dominic was 7. I just wanted to unwind, and I was grateful Kathy ensured Dominic was well taken care of during the day. That gave me plenty of time to sort out my own thoughts. Since then, Dominic and I have visited her every year together, and our friendship grew. Last year, while we were there, we talked about Dominic's 18th birthday, which I insisted on celebrating here. We brainstormed ideas to make it a special day for him. Over the last four weeks, we'd video-chatted frequently from my office to plan various details for his birthday, keeping it all under wraps from him.

But after yesterday's and today's events, I had an extra idea--though I wasn't sure if it could even be pulled off. I was thinking of gifting Dominic a striptease. Of course, I wouldn't be the main act--that would be someone local. And it would need to happen in a private area, not a public show for all the guests. Since I couldn't do anything about it on the plane, I leaned back, pulled out my outdated MP3 player, and enjoyed some music. We landed at the Cancún airport right on time. Passport control took over an hour, and as we exited the terminal, a hotel driver was waiting with a sign bearing our names.

When we asked why we had a car, he said, "Mrs. Kathy insisted on it." He loaded our suitcases and bags into the trunk while we settled into the limo. After about 15 minutes, we reached the hotel. For a moment, I savored the warm, fresh air outside.

Dominic was already heading to the lobby when he called back, "Mom, you've got the next two weeks for sun--let's check in already, I want to hit the beach!"

We stepped into the lobby and spotted the reception desk to the left, empty for the moment as the other passengers from our flight waited for their shuttle. Just as a friendly man was about to greet us, a young woman emerged from the office door to the right. I recognized her instantly--it was Jennifer, Kathy's daughter.

Jennifer wasn't just Kathy's daughter; she also had a twin brother named Justin. Kathy was married to Miguel, a Mexican man, but both kids were from a steamy fling with a tourist Kathy had back in the day. Jennifer and Justin were both 26, and they'd never met their biological father. Jennifer spotted me and rushed over. "Hey, Gina, so glad you're finally here!" After hugging me, she wrapped her arms around Dominic. "Well, big guy, you just keep growing--how's it feel to be almost grown up?" She pressed her chest against him, and for a moment, he didn't know what to do with his arms.

Clearing his throat, he replied, "If you keep squeezing me like that, I might not make it--guess you'll have strangled me first." Laughter broke out all around.

It was obvious he felt awkward with Jennifer's enthusiasm, but his body told a different story. Before anyone else noticed, Jennifer said something in Spanish to the man and turned back to us. "Mom's got everything set up--hang on, I'll grab your keys, and we'll handle the paperwork tonight. You're probably starving after hitting the beach." Another call from Jennifer, and within seconds, a bellhop appeared to take our luggage.

I'll say she's got her crew under control, I thought. The four of them had the hotel running like a well-oiled machine, each with their roles. Kathy handled contracts, upgrades, and the hotel's dining, while Jennifer managed reception and room service. Justin oversaw the spa and entertainment, and Miguel took care of tech, repairs, and the hotel's fleet. Of course, they had plenty of staff to support them.

The hotel boasted over 400 rooms and was hugely popular among German-speaking tourists. With skill and a great team, they'd even survived the pandemic. Now, fully booked again, the four were doing everything to make guests feel as comfortable as possible. "Is Kathy around?" I asked Jennifer.

"No, she won't be back at the hotel until later this afternoon. She's got an important meeting with a tour operator in Cancún who wants to do business with us. I need to run too, but we'll see you tonight--you're invited to dinner with us," Jennifer replied before disappearing back into her office.

Our bungalow was tucked away from the main building and other accommodations, but right next to Kathy's house, also on the hotel grounds. Since getting to know Kathy and her family, we'd always been given this cozy cottage. It featured two huge rooms--one upstairs, one downstairs--each with a spacious bathroom. The lower level had a small garden enclosed by hedges, while the upper floor boasted a large balcony.

I always preferred the upstairs rooms for the stunning sea view from the balcony. When we finally reached our room, tipped the bellhop, and I flopped onto the bed, I forgot--yet again--how soft the mattresses were here.

Suddenly, Dominic piped up. "Mom, uh... where's the second bed?"

I sat up and looked around. Sure enough, the second bed that had been here last year was gone. I also noticed the room had changed a bit overall. "I'll sort it out with Kathy later," I said to him. "They can bring in another bed."

"Oh, I'd be fine sharing with you, Mom," Dominic said with that cocky grin again.

"You just want another chance to grope my tits," I said, feigning outrage. "That'll be the day. With everything that's happened lately, you might just pounce on me next."

"Alright, Mom, I get it--it was just a joke," he backpedaled.

To ease the tension right away, I said, "Okay, let's grab swimsuits and towels and hit the beach! That's why we're here, after all."

Dominic had already set his suitcase on the table and was unzipping it. Smartly, he'd packed his stuff on top and didn't need long to find what he wanted before ducking into the bathroom, leaving me still working on opening my suitcase.

I quickly found my stuff too and stashed Dominic's gift in my nightstand. A short while later, I'd dug out my beach gear and started packing the essentials for the shore. When Dominic emerged from the bathroom in just long shorts and a tee, I had the beach bag ready and just needed to change. I briefly debated which bikini to wear and instinctively grabbed the one Junior had used for his "fun" the other day. It wasn't until I was in the bathroom, stripping down, that I realized my choice. I smiled, thinking, I should really pay closer attention to his reaction this time.

I slipped off my clothes and put on the bikini. When I opened the door, Dominic's eyes were on me. "Taking me to the beach like this?" I asked with a playful wink.

You could practically see him scrambling for words. He must've recognized the bikini. I could imagine the thoughts racing through his head. Does it look that bad? Maybe I shouldn't have gone so skimpy--it can barely hold my girls.

Junior found his voice: "Well, as long as you're not playing beach volleyball, I don't see a problem with them. Though it might be the other guys on the beach who are in danger. That top sure makes a statement."

"Yeah, I can tell--you can't even close your mouth!" I quipped. I reached into my suitcase, pulled out my black beach dress, and slipped it on. "Better now?" I asked.

He gave me a teasing look and said, "Not if you know what's hiding underneath."

"Well, Junior, you'll just have to get used to the view while I'm sunbathing. I see the real trouble coming from you!" I nodded toward the bulge starting to show in his shorts. I grabbed our bag, turned, and left the room. With that, we headed to the beach.

The shore was packed, and we scanned for a couple of free lounge chairs. Suddenly, we spotted a beach boy waving us over. He'd clearly caught our searching looks and had found two open chairs smack in the middle of the crowd. Junior and I gave him a small tip, thanked him warmly, and started settling in. As I shed my beach dress, Dominic leaned in and whispered, "Mom, you're the main attraction right now. I think every guy's staring at you."

I glanced around, and sure enough, more than a few eyes were on me. One guy got a subtle nudge from his wife, reminding him that staring was a home privilege too. It didn't bother me--I was used to men checking out my body before their gaze reached my face. I had two pretty convincing arguments that always drew attention first.

"Come on, let's hit the water," I said to my son. "I heard it's about 85°F," I added.

We made our way to the deeper water and started swimming. "This is amazing," my son said. "I don't think I'm getting out of here."

"Well, better watch out or you'll grow webbed feet--then they'll just call you IRON DUCK!" I burst out laughing.

My son was on me in an instant, trying to dunk me, and he succeeded. Gasping for air as I surfaced, he hugged me from behind around the waist, laughing. "As Iron Duck, I've got an edge. If I cling to you, I won't sink--those balloons of yours give us so much buoyancy, we're unsinkable." In a flash, I felt his hands slide up to my breasts. "Plus, they're perfect to hold onto," he added. It was like a jolt of electricity, paralyzing me for a moment.