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Jimmy Takes Mom After Breakfast!
Having been broken in by a sexpert trainer in the previous episodes, Jimmy gets cajoled into sex with his mother by the sex therapist! James and his mother struggle through breakfast the following morning with a frank conversation of the aftermath concerning their relationship the previous afternoon. Everyone is an adult and a willing participant in this fantasy.
Becoming eighteen-years-old, four months ago, was turning into a difficult time period in my life. My Dad was riding my butt more often now about acting more like an adult. Meaning that I should start taking on some responsibilities rather than being catered to ‘like a twelve-year-old’ as he more frequently phrased it. Mom had that ‘pushing the nestling out of the nest thing’ going on as well. ‘Found a girl for the dance, Jimmy?’ or ‘That sweet girl I saw you talking to at the bus stop seems to like you, Jimmy. Why don’t you ask her out?’ ‘Hear that the Home Depot is looking for part-time help. Could lead to a full-time job you know.’ That kind of crap seemed to be poking my ribs lately. It was particularly so with Mom. I guess it was leading up to maelstrom event earlier today. It was like a story you hear about in the news of some guy, minding his own business at a bus stop — when, wham, he gets creamed by some drunk driver plowing him under the cab of his eighteen-wheeler. The poor guy never sees it coming! I was like that guy. It sure seems like Mom got tired of waiting and took matters into her own hands. So, what the fuck just happened?
My day had started out pretty much like most other school days. It started with Mom’s habitual banging on my door. I thought the banging was to get my lazy butt out of bed and get ready for school, but no, that wasn’t how the day got laid out for me! However, I did get laid! Three times by my count before Dad got home from work! Now at day’s end, I flopped down onto my bed, pretty much physically and emotionally spent. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. ‘Zit ceiling’ it should have been named; that’s what it looked like — though, not the same color.
‘What the fuck happened, today?’ Those words just seemed to float around in my mind looking for answers to the question. Nothing seemed to make sense about the day’s events.
Earlier, I had excused myself from the dinner table. Guilt seemed to be seeping out of my pores and I was sure it smelled like my Mom’s vaginal secretions and, perhaps, some of Goldie’s sex juices too. I expected Dad to turn to me at any second and ask if I enjoyed fucking my Mother’s ass. So I give Dad a lame-assed excuse that I had to study for the now delayed chemistry test. It was getting hard to sit next to him and act as though I hadn’t just had sex with my own mother as he was driving home with pizza for dinner. Headed down the hallway, that’s when I caught Mom’s remark to Dad about volunteering to shovel the neighbor’s walks. My Dad’s sardonic remark about the hottie across the street and not saying anything about the fifty dollars, confirmed that Mother had pretty much set this whole thing up with Teresa Ann. She is the college chick that just moved in across the street. The magazine model image to whom I lost my virginity this afternoon.
It began with Mom cajoling my sleep laden body out bed early with a fifty-dollar bribe, then sugar coated it with getting an opportunity to meet the ‘hottie’ across the street, as Dad called her. Lying here, now, as I think about it; when-in-the-fuck-ever, does a naked woman press her pussy against her picture window while a stranger shovels her sidewalks? When-the-fuck-ever, does she unlock her front door, and tells him that if his mother has a tramp stamp that says ‘insert here;’ that his mother wants to fuck him also? Mom’s comment to Dad, about me starting to grow up, was a real ‘snow job’ answer!
Starting to grow up? Really! My world just got turned upside down, so yeah, I guess you could say I was starting to grow up. After all, I went from being a bonified virgin to a cunt-fucker, ass-fucker, and mother-fucking ass-fucker all in the same afternoon! ‘What the hell happened, today?’ Well, I guess part of that answer is that I was just starting to grow up — that’s the best answer, maybe. But it sure as hell was a very confusing one!
Rolling over onto my side, I reached into my dresser drawer and took out one of the ornate, embossed business cards that Teresa Ann had given me as she slid my missing sock onto my dick. I could still hear her snickering about having at least one article of clothing on or risk catching cold as she coaxed it over my stiffening cock. I’d read the front of the card earlier, but now studying it again, I flipped it over.
The reverse side said: ‘Board Certified Sexologist’ — ‘Phallic Training — Tantric Sex Certified — Conjugal Fealty Training – Allosexual Determinate Assessment — Other ‘Sexpert’ Services —
I stared at the card for a long time. Rereading it several times samsun escort in fact. I may have just as well have read it once and let it go because no matter how many times I read the words, they held no meaning for me. It could just as well have been in Latin or Greek — none of it made sense.
“What is Phallic Training?” I spit the unfamiliar word out as I read it.
“What the fuck is Tantric Sex?” I snorted, stumbling on how to pronounce it.
What the mother-fuck, fucking is that Allosaurus Determinate Assessment shit?” I was pissed at that point, thinking that Teresa Ann was claiming to be some kind of dinosaur trainer! That’s when, on the second read, I realized it didn’t have anything to do with dinosaurs — I just misread the damned card! It actually said ‘Allosexual.’ Still that didn’t mean a goddamned thing to me.
‘Who the FUCK is Teresa Ann and what the shit is all this crap on her business card? She can’t have a business — she’s just a college student!’ I muttered to myself. I was mad. I was… pissed! Somebody owed me an answer for how I got played today. Not that I didn’t like it, just that I… hell, never mind!’ I wasn’t even sure why I was mad at this point. I should be well pleased. After all, I got fucked, got fucked three times, even!
I should be reveling in the thought of getting back to school on Monday and telling this story of banging Goldie against the wall to the guys at school. It would have been one belly laughing lunchroom conversation with high fives all around! But that’s not how I felt, lying here looking up at the popcorn zits on the ceiling in my bedroom. I’d also done my mom, on the kitchen table of all places! The same place I sit every day and watch Dad obliviously eating dinner next to a mother-fucker. That part certainly didn’t seem like a topic for lunch with the guys.
Grabbing my laptop, I googled the terms — Phallus — dick. Okay she trains dicks; fancy word for that! Googling the rest of them just lead me down a deep rabbit hole into things that never in a million years would I have suspected that they existed. I mean how can someone want to ‘not identify with a sex’ or be known by a sex at all?
I rubbed my fingers across the letters letting the feel of the embossed card stimulate the tips of my fingers. I looked at the clock, 8:00 PM. Looking down, again, at the telephone number on the card, I weighed the discordant thoughts ruminating in my mind.
‘Call her?’ I mused. ‘What if her mom answers? Just hang up on her? So, what if her mom called back? Say, ‘I’m sorry, I dialed the wrong number.’
‘Yeah, that works.’ I heard the number ringing and ringing, but I didn’t remember making the call — some cosmic thing, I guess.
“Hello,” a sultry-sounding voice answered, stunning me like a slap across the face. It’s melodic tone froze my lips into silence as I soaked up all the nuances I could get out of that silky voice just saying ‘hello.’
That voice dialed and connected into my mental image of Goldie earlier in the day. She had stood by the stairway, naked, poised like a goddess, so in control of all her surroundings. That demur smile of a blond haired, naked woman brushing the curly hair away from my eyes flashed before me. She had whispered, “Whatever you want to do; I am here for you, Snow-boy.” I could feel her hand reach out and take my cock as though she already owned it. She already knew what I wanted. Hell, she plastered her hips against the icy picture window and splayed it open for me. She even smeared it across the glass like the trail of a snail, so slowly that I stopped breathing as I watched it flow across the glass! Her cunt is what I craved and she knew that not even knowing my name!
I couldn’t get my own voice to answer that sexy voice’s ‘hello.’ I had dialed without knowing what I wanted to say. Like a tongue-tied sap, I could only listen in silence. This was ‘that’ problem about being able to talk to girls that had kept me from asking one out — and then getting into her panties.
Patiently, calmly her voice responded to my silence saying, “Caller, it’s difficult to hold a one-way conversation. But as long as you aren’t disrespectful in your silence, I’ll wait until you have something to say… but if you don’t answer soon, well… that would be disappointing.” The lilt in her voice seemed to be teasing, trying to cajole an answer out of me. The silence between us seemed to be like shouting out to the mountains and waiting for the echo to return… hoping that the reply would be different than the words first sent across the canyon. Like a slow-motion film, my lips finally began to form a smattering of words.
“I, I was, I was afraid that your mother might answer,” I finally managed to spew out a few words as my tongue seemed to thaw a bit.
“Well, thank you for speaking. It was getting so lonely listening to the silence. And just so you know if you call again, my mom doesn’t answer my calls. This is my private line. escort samsun You can call it anytime. What made you think that my mother would answer your call, Jimmy?”
She recognized my voice! We hadn’t really said much to each other. And what I did say was mostly coming out in gasps as I drove my dick into her earlier this afternoon. How that must have sounded to her hadn’t been in my thoughts then. Just the thoughts of getting myself inside her cunt and well, the other side of it also when I saw her tattoo ‘I’m yours! Insert here.’
“Well, first, um, sort of first-hand experience, I guess.” I started to finally respond to her query. “My mom answers my phone sometimes; if I leave it laying around,” I acknowledged. “I try not to, but she still thinks I’m a kid… so no privacy thing going on here, you know?”
As my tongue loosened, I added, “Secondly, my mom said she saw your mom’s car tracks leaving your place this morning. Guessing she was going to work. So I figured your mom might be home by now.”
Goldie’s voice of conviction spoken in those sultry southern tones, “That first thing will change. It may take a day or two, but you will see it soon. I have not had those teenager issues for some time, you know. Besides, my mom lives in Tennessee.”
I processed Goldie’s, rather Teresa Ann’s information as she spoke. I thought, ‘how the hell did she know that my mom would stop answering my calls soon was a bit of a mystery,’ but she declared it quite emphatically. She sure as hell knew about the tattoo, so I guess she could know a bit more about my mom at this point than I did. Maybe it was a woman thing; something universal among women only stuff.
“So… who’s car tracks were leaving this morning?” I asked, then immediately wanted to retract the question. Not my business, I thought, but it was too late — the question was out there already. I figured my mom was almost always right so it seemed natural that it was Goldie’s mom.
“Ah! That was Dr. Fukhert, my… college advisor. I’m working on a major research project and she stays over some nights to help me out.
“Okay,” I answered almost with a sense of disbelief.
I found that last tidbit interesting that college teachers would come over and stay overnight to help out with homework. My thoughts flashed to one of my teachers that I wouldn’t mind asking over to help with my homework. The problem with that thought is she would have stay in my room since we didn’t have a guest room as such! Teresa Ann’s first comment about not having teenager issues for quite some time also piqued my interest.
“So, you’re not like nineteen then?” I found myself asking rather stupidly.
I hadn’t personally seen any naked women up close other than today, so I had no idea just how old she is or even how to guess a woman’s age. I could figure out an elderly person, even a thirty-year-old maybe but not someone her age. Mom said she was in college, so I just thought starting college, maybe. But when I saw her body, it was flawless and looked like a high school prom queen. At least I thought so.
“No, Jimmy, not nineteen or even twenty.”
Her response was such that I could almost see a smile attached to the words as she breathed them into her phone.
“Let’s say, first off, a gentleman doesn’t ask a lady about her age. If he does it’s a good indication that he has something inappropriate in mind with someone not old enough to be a participant, understand Jimmy?”
“Yeah, I guess I get it, Teresa Ann,” I answered trying to file that nugget away for future deciphering. I wasn’t good at reading into things like innuendos and I wasn’t going to let her know that I had no idea what she was trying to tell me.
I guess Teresa Ann picked up on that last thought of mine because she went on, “Jimmy, there are ways to get an age approximation; for instance, asking about how long a person has worked at their business. Or, if you know they are in college, asking them about what level of courses they are taking gives you an idea of how long they have been enrolled,” she continued, kind of flirty like, it seemed.
“So… what level of courses are you taking, Teresa?” I followed her lead.
“It’s Teresa Ann, James, always Teresa Ann. The answer to your question is that I’m a post-graduate student, final year of psychological and clinical studies. She paused to let that sink in and waited for me to respond.
My response was slow to come. I didn’t have a clue as to what a graduate student was or what final year clinical studies meant. But the way she spued all of that out clued me in that she must be smart.
“So… more like twenty-one?” I hazarded another guess.
I heard her soft chuckle before she spoke again. “Remember, you are not supposed to ask a woman her age!” came her smirky southern drawl. “But, that’s not why you called is it, James?”
“Everyone calls me, Jimmy. And no, that’s not why I really called.”
I stumbled around the conversation, samsun escort bayan but was beginning to feel more at ease. Something in her voice seemed so soothing and seemed to draw me out of my normal shy shell. This was probably the longest conversation I had ever had with a girl or in Teresa Ann’s case a woman, I guess from the clues in the conversation.
“Do you know a Jimmy Bond, James?” she teasingly asked.
“No,” I answered wondering at the shift in subject.
“Do you know a James Bond, James?” She asked again.
“Yeah! The British spy guy!” I answered without hesitation. I felt glad that at least, here, I was on firmer ground on a subject that I knew something about.
“Yes, James. Few or possibly no one knows a Jimmy Bond, but everyone connects with the debonair name — James! Today, I laid Jimmy to rest and resurrected you as his alter ego, James,” she breathed into the phone, kind of like an old spy novel character.
“James Herbert,” I called out my name. It sounded so different in light of what Teresa Ann had just announced. “James Herbert Bond, has a good ring to it, Teresa Ann,” I repeated the James part adding Bond as a new persona. Theresa Ann’s chuckle let me know that she approved of my new name change, if only in my imagination.
I could hear her breathing out a long whispered, puffing sound as she listened. “Are you smoking, Teresa Ann?” I asked.
“Yes, James,” she replied softly. “But, I can stop if you like,” she added.
“I… Okay… yes, please stop.”
“There, I put out my fag for you, James. Satisfied?”
“I… guess so. Thank you. Smoking kills people you know?”
“Know what else kills people, James?”
“What… what else kills people, Teresa Ann?” I uttered having been caught up in her hypnotic voice.
“Not telling them why you called them!” she teased and then that melodious siren’s voice spilled out with a touch of laugher as she continued.
“Certainly you didn’t call to ask me to stop smoking. So what else do you have in mind? Is something troubling you? Did you call to take back what we did? Did you want to talk about what you did to your mom? Or perhaps you called for some phone sex, maybe? Do you want me to undress and tell you what I’m doing with my fingers between my thighs, James?”
God, her brain was on a roll! The sensual tone of her voice was so hypnotic that I had no idea of where this conversation was going. I mean she asked about phone sex! Just thinking about that; seeing her spread out on a bed with her pussy splayed open and her fingers probing her cunt painted a searing picture in my mind. I never ever had that type of conversation before! I know that may sound crazy, knowing that a little over two hours ago I had sex with her against the wall in her house! But still the casual frank tone of her conversation was mesmerizing. It was a dialog without a hint of inhibition or shame even. She talked to me like I was an adult!
“Ah! No,” I managed to interject into the fantasy world she had spun up for me, “but that sounds like it would be nice to hear you tell me. But, that’s not why I called, Teresa Ann.”
The light-hearted air left her casual conversational voice, as it took on a more polished tone. “Okay then. I guess this is about serious stuff. I won’t kid around anymore, James. Go ahead. I’ll respect your need for serious subject matter.”
Her change in tone caught me off guard for a moment. But I got to the point, “Teresa Ann, did my mom and you plan what happened today or was that whole thing just, just something that sprang up out of nowhere?” I managed to ask, stuffing the phone sex idea into the don’t-go-there-drawer in my mind.
“Didn’t you ask your mom?” Her response was hesitant. She didn’t answer the question but deflected it with another question.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask. I, I was… busy re-setting the table after we… you know… while Mom showered, and then Dad got home with pizza just as I finished showering.” I answered in reply to her enquiry.
Teresa Ann giggled at the setting the table remark but her deflection continued, “Why do you think you mom may have set this up, James?”
I was back to staring at the popcorn zits as I listened to her question. “Well,” I began to layout my suspicions, “first off, Mom said Dad left fifty dollars for me to shovel the walks, but tonight she told him I volunteered to shovel your walkways. Dad didn’t even balk or say anything about leaving the fifty for me this morning… so that was a lie. Secondly, you hinted about if she had the tattoo she really wanted to fuck me, but Mom said it was your idea for the tattoo, so you already knew about it; so there was no doubt that she had one!”
“Seems to me, James Herbert, that as someone being part Bond, you already knew the answer to your question before you called me. So are you just wanting confirmation?”
Again with the deflection! “I guess, so.” I muttered feeling as though someone had just put a pin into my balloon after I had spent all day blowing it up.
“Yes. What?… Yes, what part of the question is yes an answer to, Teresa Ann?” I asked, now really confused.
“Didn’t I tell you I was a psychology, graduate level student, James?” she giggled at my confused response.