Mom Unlocks the Shyness Enigma

'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 fucked her and fucked my mother!

I should be reveling in the thought of returning to school on Monday and telling this story of banging Teresa Ann 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 Mom standing up at the sink, of all places! The same room where I sit every day and watch Dad obliviously eating dinner beside a mother-fucker. That part certainly seemed like something other than a topic for lunch with the guys.

Grabbing my laptop, I googled the terms -- Phallus -- dick. Okay, dicks; damn polite word for that! Googling the rest of them led me down a deep rabbit hole into things that never in a million years would I have suspected that they existed. How can someone want to 'not identify with a sex' or not be known by a sex? How does that 'sex concept' work? I'm thinking: everybody needs to fuck someone -- one day at least.

I rubbed my fingers across the letters, letting the embossed card stimulate my fingertips. I looked at the clock: 8:00 PM. Looking again at the telephone number on the card, I weighed the discordant thoughts ruminating in my mind.

'Call her?' I mused. 'What if she lied about living alone and 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.

"Hello," a sultry-sounding voice answered, stunning me like a slap in the face. Its 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 to my mental image of Teresa Ann earlier in the day. She had stood by the patio, naked, poised like a goddess, in control of all her surroundings. That demure smile of a blonde-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 ... any way you want it." I could feel her hand reach out and take my cock as though she already owned it. She already knew what I wanted. She had plastered her hips against the patio door and splayed it open for me. She smeared her pussy across the glass like a snail's trail 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 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, that would be disappointing." The lilt in her voice seemed to tease, trying to coax an answer out of me. The silence between us seemed like shouting out to the mountains and waiting for the echo to return, hoping 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 ..." I managed to spew 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, this is my private line. You can call it anytime, James."

She recognized my voice! We hadn't 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. Just the thoughts of getting inside her cunt and, well, the other side of it also when she explained the meaning of a keyhole user's submission.

"My dad said you ... are a college student, but your card says Sexologist."

"Easily explained, James. I have a Master's Degree and am a student working on my Ph.D. So yes, I have a business, and I am a student. A hectic schedule, know what I mean?"

It struck me that Teresa Ann could afford to buy a giant home, lived alone, and was a college student, which piqued my interest.

"So, you're not like nineteen then?" I found myself asking rather stupidly.

I hadn't seen any naked women up close other than today, so I had no idea how old she was 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. Dad said she was in college, so starting college may be. But when I saw her body, it looked flawless and like a high school prom queen. At least, I thought so.

"No, Jimmy, not nineteen or even twenty-one."

Her response was such that I could almost see a smile attached to the words as she breathed them into her phone. I felt a tremor in my hand as the meaning of her words hit me.

"Jimmy, first, 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 wouldn't let her know I had no idea what she was trying to tell me.

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, 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 in my final year of psychological and clinical studies, wrapping up my Ph.D." She paused to let that sink in and waited for me to respond.

I drew a blank as my mental calculator was momentarily dysfunctional. I needed more data to determine what graduate student, final-year clinical studies, and Ph.D. things meant. No one talked about those in high school. But how she spewed all that out made me think she must be damn smart.

"So... more like twenty-three?" 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, James. Is it?"

"Everyone calls me Jimmy. And no, that's not why I called."

I stumbled around the conversation but was beginning to feel more at ease. Something in her voice seemed so soothing, drawing me out of my normal shy shell. This was the most extended conversation I had ever had with a girl or, in Teresa Ann's case, a woman, 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 I was on firmer ground on a subject I knew something about.

"Yes, James. Few or possibly no one knows Jimmy Bond, but everyone connects with the debonair name -- James! Today, you and I will lay Jimmy to rest and resurrect you as an alter ego, James," she breathed into the phone like an old spy novel character.

"James Herbert," I called out my name, the one on my birth certificate. 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 she approved of my new name change, if only in my imagination.

I could hear her breathing 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!" she teased, and then that melodious siren's voice spilled out with a touch of laughter 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? 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 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 had that type of conversation before! I know that may sound wild, knowing that a little over two hours ago, I had had sex with her in her house! But still, the casual, frank tone of her conversation was mesmerizing. It was a dialogue without a hint of inhibition or shame. 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 something that sprang up out of nowhere?" I managed to ask, stuffing the phone sex idea into my don't-go-there-drawer.

"Didn't you ask your mom?" Her response could have been more open. She didn't answer the question but deflected it with another question.

"I didn't get a chance to ask. I, I was... busy cleaning up after we... you know... while Mom showered, Dad got home just as I finished showering again," I answered in reply to her inquiry.

Teresa Ann giggled at the second showering remark, but her deflection continued, "Why do you think your mom may have set this up, James?"

I was back staring at the popcorn zits as I listened to her question. "Well," I began to lay out my suspicions, "you hinted that anyone with that keyhole was ... fair game, that she had to if I wanted it, anytime, anywhere, or any way. It seems to me that it would be improbable I would find two girls, er, women, with that tattoo on the same day. Mom said Dad hadn't seen hers yet. So that tells me it's new -- and you are a Sexologist. Two and two make four. Do you get that, Teresa Ann?"

"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 like someone had just put a pin into my balloon after I had spent all day blowing it up.

"Yes."

"Yes. What?... What part of the question is yes an answer to, Teresa Ann?" I asked, now really confused.

"Didn't I tell you I am a psychology graduate-level student, James?" she giggled at my confused response.

"James, I'll tell you, only if you promise to help me with a research project I am working on for my doctorate. In the end, it will help you become more James Herbert Bond than you can imagine!" she added, as her tone went from a light giggle to a pragmatic solicitation for services.

Becoming more like James Bond was an enticing incentive. Bond got laid multiple times in every movie and always with a voluptuous woman with an erotic-sounding name. I was very partial to Pussy Galore! But, the thought of doing college-level work pumped my brakes. I wasn't a writer, and my head always hurt just trying to write a one-page paper on 'How to Fold Paper Airplanes' for my English class. No way I was going to be able to write something about the type shit on Teresa Ann's business card. That would mean I had to study, and that's not in my traffic lane as an action item!

However, as I was busy dismissing the idea of helping with her thesis work, I found that Teresa Ann could be very persuasive. She knew how to push a guy's buttons. While talking on the phone, she sent a photo of herself prominently displaying her tattoo and the words 'Anyway, any time.' Her infectious grin made my libido thump as I stared at the picture. She was on her hands and knees, looking back over her shoulder at a large carrot with the stem centered and the leafy greens protruding like a horse's tail from her pucker hole. Her sexting message also indicated that as long as I was part of the research, I also got access to the researcher's 'toolbox!' I'd been in that toolbox earlier this afternoon and was now finding it harder to swallow as I began to cave into her plea for help.

My promise to accede to Teresa Ann's request that evening, led to a life-changing series of events. And it cleared up some points about how I went from being a virgin to becoming a mother-fucker during the same afternoon.

Teresa Ann had launched into the role of teacher, and her sensual voice held me captive until 10:00 PM, listening to her spout off about some guys named Havelock Ellis, Sigmund Freud, and others that she rattled off. What I remember of the Reader's Digest version was that many mothers were sexually active with their sons. She stated that it wasn't unusual to be involved in something like that if the attraction was mutual and not coerced, or didn't involve something she called grooming. I may be wrong about grooming, though. Perhaps it wasn't about hair and makeup but another definition with which I wasn't familiar. It was difficult to follow her conversation because new pictures kept blowing up on my phone -- mind-blowing views of close-ups of her nipples, her cunt from different angles, and how she could make it contract and open. It wasn't long before I realized my fingers were curled around Thor again, and I was on my way to 'my happy place.'

I guess she could hear my heavy breathing because somewhere along the way, she stopped lecturing and asked, "Are you... jerking off to my photos, James?"

"Yes," escaped my tight lips as I hissed out the word. I wasn't the least bit embarrassed to reply, not given that I had already fucked two of her holes and was so far into getting Thor worked up that he couldn't stop even if he wanted.

"So, does that mean we have a deal? You help with my research, and I... give you my body in return, James?" The husky tone of her voice told me she was getting pretty excited as she coaxed me for an answer.

"I... can't... write papers!" I gritted out my reply between clenched lips as my fist churned away, gaining speed despite my wanting to slow down.

"Oh! James! I don't need you to write anything -- just talk to me openly, frankly, and... sometimes to fuck me or... someone else while we talk. You don't have to write anything!"

"Okay!" I yelled in reply. The answer just happened to be at the point where Thor unloaded on my chest in several pulsing ropes of creamy jizz.

"Fuck!" I shouted.

I'd been holding my breath to keep from yelling, but the shout escaped and roared around my room. The points she made about fucking her just made it into my brain, but she also said something about fucking someone else while she and I talked, and that part got lost as Thor coughed up his load.

To make matters worse, I heard Mom's knock at the door as she asked, "Are you okay, Jimmy?" Teresa Ann listened to her voice as well. I heard her giggle as I stared at the door.

"Oh, hell! James, open the door, wide open! Let her see that you are okay. Smile! Wipe your finger in your cream and hold it out for her to taste. Then kiss her on the forehead and tell her you love her. Please don't say or do anything else; close the door so we can talk again. She will understand, I promise."

"But, I'm butt-naked and covered in..." I started to say.

"That's okay, James, she will enjoy seeing your dick again! Your father will enjoy the benefits of that, too, when they go to bed. You'll be doing him a favor because she will be so revved up that he will probably service all three of her holes tonight! Do it, James! Show her your nakedness!"

It was sheer craziness, but the determination in Teresa Ann's voice overrode the common-sense thought processes I would typically apply to this situation. I switched to FaceTime mode with Teresa Ann and yanked my door open. Mom's eyes popped as she took in my jizz-covered chest and my slimy-covered dick as it drooped. Before she could recover, I followed directions!

Using my finger, I scooped up a slowly descending run of nut juice and held it to Mom's lips. Her eyes twinkled as a smile appeared quickly from corner to corner of her cheeks. Her lips opened like a baby bird's beak in two seconds, and she sucked the jizz off my fingers. I watched her cheeks pucker as she made a big deal out of swallowing. Smiling, I reached out and gently held her tits as I kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Mom!" I whispered, as I started to close the door without another word.

Peeking out again, I saw her return to the living room. I could hear her telling Dad I was okay; I dropped my chemistry book on my foot as I was dozing off!

Teresa Ann giggled, as I panned my phone to Thor while sitting on the bed again.

"Thank you for letting me see that! I liked it when you took hold of your mom's tits. I bet she liked that, too. Maybe we should have been on FaceTime earlier. I would have loved to see you come," she added with a wry smile.

"Can I see that carrot again?" I asked, "How long is it?"

"You can find out tomorrow, James," she answered, "I'll let you put it back in if you want to. I have to go, James. I need to complete this paper tonight for class... and I seem to have lost two hours of study time. I think aliens have abducted me... again!"

I could hear Teresa Ann's giggle as she cut the video feed, leaving me staring at a blank screen. Wiping off the remaining jizz, I lay staring at the ceiling again. It took a few more minutes before I realized she hadn't answered my question about Mom and her role in planning the sexcapade this afternoon.

Teresa Ann was proving to be quite deceptive. I would have to nail her down to get a better answer. And, yeah, nail her cunt in the process as well. She sure seemed to be able to hold intelligent conversations while Thor pounded her puss. Perhaps another pounding would be an appropriate time to re-kindle the conversation with her.