Sun, Sex, and Mommy: Taboo in Cancun

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events are imaginary and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.

It was 7am, Friday, and I was paddleboarding with my mom Coco on the river by our house.

Paddleboarding was required summer recreation at least five days a week, and she never missed it.

We started by doing a half-hour of SUP (stand-up paddle) sprints on the longboards.

Coco’s “TikTok starlet” bikini didn’t keep her F-cup gazongas from jiggling on her little frame, which I liked to watch. She thought I wasn’t looking.

I told myself it was just hormones. Any nineteen-year-old would check out boobs like hers. But the truth was ugly and hot. I liked that they were hers. I liked that she was my dad’s wife and she didn’t care.

Each powerful paddle stroke made her F-cups strain against the micro lime triangles, and I swear to God the left one was inching downward every time she bounced.

When Coco caught a wave and came down hard, her top peeled back, exposing a disc of pink areola, the center where water beaded on her nipple.

She caught me staring and didn’t correct it—just turned with a smile and bit her bottom lip.

“Eyes on your own board, Chaddy,” she teased, flicking the water off her nib through the open hole.

I had to stop paddling and get my erection under control, or the waistband of my trunks would trap me to half the river.

Coco’s funbags were a gift from my dad on her thirty-ninth birthday. She told me he thought she was too ‘innocent church mouse’ with her natural B cups.

Dad was happy to buy her perfection.

Around that same time she also got lazy, as trophy wives do around forty. So she joined me for aerobic activity on the water. I inspire her, she says.

After four years of grueling paddleboarding, tennis lessons, two days of “hot yoga with weights,” and a variety of juicing diets, Coco morphed into nature’s hottest milf with ice blonde platinum hair and a baby face.

43F-22-35, 5’4”. Elfin with legs long for her squat height.

The fake boobs were too high on her chest, but who cared. She looked similar to Elsa Jean if you want to Google her. Only with an ass bubble-ier and rounder than her boobs.

We finished SUP sprints and arm/ab routines, then cooled down with yoga stretches on the private dock that had been built for us.

The dock was warm and toasty from the sun, and Coco smelled like citrusoil and sweat, with slippery skin under my hands on her hips. Every time she exhaled, I was treated to the smell of mint tictac on her breath and the salt of the river on her neck.

This was Coco’s idea. I went along to keep her motivated and to enjoy her various positions, which are very impressive for a woman her age.

Coco twisted into a standing split, which should’ve been impossible for a woman with bolt-ons. Her bikini bottoms rode so high up the sides, her cameltoe were hugging the inner seam, and the floss rode deep in her butt crack.

“Spot me, Chaddy?” she asked, arching so hard her back was curved into a U.

I hovered behind her, hands poised at her hips, and she swung her ass into my groin to “find her balance.”

My cock twitched on her tailbone before I could stop it.

“You’re getting powerful, baby,” she purred, rolling her hips at me one time. “Feel that stretch?”

I felt something all right. There was a log poking out of my shorts.

When we were finished, we cooled down with protein smoothies on the dock chairs. “So, how’s college?”

Coco was a sophomore at 40. She’d put off college to “see the world” (read: party on the French Riviera with sugar daddies), and my dad rekindled with mom at an exclusive champagne pool party in Palm Beach. He was 57 and successful from discovering a new kind of “bio-reactive” fertilizer. I was 17. They got remarried a month before I graduated high school.

Dad thought the idea of Coco going to college was hilarious.

“Bubblehead” was his pet name for Coco, but she liked it because she said her head was so pretty, it didn’t need smart things inside.

Neither Dad nor I could picture her in a classroom, but we supported her. She was a nice lady for a gold digger.

Coco came from a family of “natural wellness” kooks, but Dad had money, so I got a freshman college experience and a bright, secure future in our West Palm Beach, Florida mansion.

Back to the story…Coco’s blue eyes twinkled. “College is super, Chaddy! Meeting so many cool people.”

“Are you fitting in?” She was worried about standing out among young women because she was so much older.

Coco giggled. “Yeah! I told them I’m 22 and they totally believe me! They’re jealous that your old mom is so close to your age. How funny is that?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Coco had a sweet, young-looking face with huge blue eyes, pale pink lips and zero wrinkles. Her oiled-up body was like a sexy anime girl, which made girls jealous and guys drool.

“That’s because you’re hot as hell,” I said to bolster her.

Coco beamed at me and ran a finger along my jaw, her oiled cleavage on display. “You’re not too shabby, either, Chaddy Daaaaddy.”

She leaned close and licked a drop of smoothie off my bottom lip, slow, like she was trying to taste me.

“Banana,” she murmured.

My cock kicked so hard, my chair creaked. She didn’t notice or pretended not to, but the way she recrossed her leg, with a thigh brush on mine all the way to the top, she was aware.

“You always make me feel pretty,” she whispered, rubbing my leg with a bare foot under the dock table.

“And you helped me get this body, ‘Chaddy Daaaaddy,’” she said, giving me an eyebrow waggle and tweaking my nipple. “I only wish your daddy would join me for paddleboarding.”

Dad was a retired badass and carried a few extra pounds. Searching for the next big “disruptive” idea took up a lot of brain space, so he didn’t have time for paddleboarding.

“Good luck with that,” I chuckled.

Coco sighed wistfully. “Riiight. Backpaddling is super relaxing, though.” But then turned bright-eyed, “Speaking of Dad, guess what?”

“What?”

Coco giggled. “Jessica thinks you’re my boyfriend,” she said. Jessica was a classmate of hers.

“What? Why?”

“It was an accident!” she giggled again. “Jess knows I’m married, but when she saw your picture on my phone, she thought you were the one!”

“Why didn’t you tell her I’m your son?”

Coco rolled her eyes. “Your dad doesn’t look like the husband of a young college hottie!”

That was true. Thick fifty-something men with graying chins and receding hairlines don’t look like college husbands. “So you let her think your nineteen-year-old son is your boyfriend?”

Grinning, she said, “It’s genius! It helps me fit in. Also, Jessica thinks you’re a cutie.”

“Is she hot? Set me up?” I teased.

Coco frowned. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, Chaddy Daaaddy.”

“Oops!” I laughed.

My joke bugged her, but a minute later she smiled and said, “Jessica wants us to go on spring break with their friends and boyfriends in Cancun.”

I was shocked. “You, me? Mom—Coco, I can’t go to Cancun with you.”

She pouted and mewed, “Why not? I wanna go. I won’t embarrass you, pwease?”

“No way, Coco. That’s weird.”

“Please?” she pleaded. “I never had a spring break when I was your age. Not with my family.”

She didn’t say she didn’t have one because she was, like, traveling the world, but I felt a responsibility to make her happy. “Sure. If it’s so important.”

Coco squealed, leapt up and straddled me. “Yay yay yay! You’re the best, Chaddy Daaaddy!” She licked my ear and left spit trails on my cheeks.

“Don’t you mean, ‘best boyfriend ever’?”

She giggled, “Yeaaaah! Best spring break boyfriend.” More giggling as she licked at my nose.

“Has Dad agreed to this yet?”

“Not yet. I was hoping you’d help me ask tonight.”

That night at dinner, Coco told Dad, “Honey bear, I want to go to Cancun with Jessica and friends.”

Dad shook his head. “Coco, I don’t want to vacation with party animals in Cancun.”

“I know, Daddy Bear,” Coco grinned. “We’ll do our usual vacation this summer. I’m talking solo trip.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose. “You want to go on spring break without me?”

Coco shook her head. “Not alone. With Jessica and friends. And Chaddy Daaaddy.”

“Chaddy Daaaddy?” Dad had to think about it for a minute, “Do you want to go to Cancun?” Which he rejected after a second thought, “Stupid question. All nineteen-year-old boys want to go to spring break.” Dad looked between me and Coco, shrugged, “Fine. No reason why not. You and Mom look out for each other and make sure you don’t do anything crazy.”

Coco squealed and leapt onto Dad. “Yay Daddy Bear! You and me are going to take care of each other.”

She didn’t admit her classmates thought we were lovers, but I wasn’t about to say anything either. It was damn confusing to talk about.

Confusing because a sick little part of me wanted it to be real. I wanted her as my wife. I wanted to take her to bed and do all the things a husband does to a woman who looks like that.

SUNDAY

The morning of spring break, Coco kissed Dad in front of the door. Dad was hitting the golf course with friends in the Bahamas. “Thanks for letting me go to Mexico.”

“You’re welcome, hot stuff. Have fun but don’t drink or do stupid shit.”

“We won’t.” Another kiss and he left. She closed the door and looked at me. “Ready, Chaddy Daaaddy?”

“Hell yeah, mom. Cancun with hot babes all week? Sign me up.”

She hugged me like