When No Woman Equals Mom Ch. 01

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After reading Hypnotizing the Family, Literotica member Kelly Winters sent me several suggestions for continuing the tale. They were so good I thought they deserved their own story and with her blessing wrote what follows. I foresee three chapters. Thank you Kelly, all the best stuff here is yours.

As always, all story characters involved in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * *

Anna Richardson, M.D. and Ph.D. in Psychology, knew the young man sitting before her had an ulterior motive, but that didn’t bother her, everyone has an ulterior motive. Finding it makes it easier to manipulate or, to use a kinder term, motivate people.

He’d just won the regional high school science fair being held at Princeton University with a project based on her work. It had been brought to her attention: she’d been impressed. He not only understood her research, he’d stretched it in an interesting new direction. After the ceremony she’d invited him to her office for a chat which was, after all, what he wanted.

“I submitted a resume for the internship in your lab for the fall semester.”

As she pressed a button on her desk Dr. Richardson and said, “I don’t recall it, let’s see if my secretary can locate it. I’ve never considered a high school student for the position. You live fifty miles away. Could you be here two days a week?”

“For an opportunity like this, I’d find a way.”

Of that Dr. Richardson was sure. His mother was Ivanka Washington. If this kid was anything like her, and he certainly seemed to be, he’d find a way

“Yes ma’am.”

It was Rhonda, Dr. Richardson’s secretary. She had come to Dr. Richardson fifteen years ago, at age nineteen, and was the best secretary Dr. Richardson had ever known. Smart, hard working, detail-oriented, and loyal, she was also sweet, personable, and stunning, with light brown hair, soulful brown eyes, a winning smile, and a body to die for. The problem: while Rhonda never let it interfere with her work there were always guys hanging around, trying to make time with her. Not wanting to take a chance on losing her, Dr. Richardson had designed the subliminal messages that danced across Rhonda’s computer screen and ensured her sole interest in life was serving Dr. Richardson.

“Mr. Washington submitted a resume for the intern position. Can you locate it, please.”

Thirty minutes later, during which time Dr. Richardson and Zachary Washington engaged in a wide-ranging conversation about his project and her research, Dr. Richardson’s computer pinged. Dr. Richardson knew it would have taken Rhonda all of ten seconds to find the resume, the thirty minute delay meant Rhonda had divined exactly what Dr. Richardson wanted.

There were three references on the resume. Besides each Rhonda had written a checkmark with a plus, confirming all three believed Zach an exceptional candidate. Underneath those names Rhonda had written three additional names, people to whom Rhonda had determined, based on the project, Zachary worked with. He received the same high mark from each of them.

The final notation on the resume was next to the name Betsy Knowles, who had been an advisor for Zach’s project. Betsy, an assistant professor at Columbia University, had been a trusted student of Anna’s, a fact which Dr. Richardson assumed Zachary knew and which explained her appearance on the resume. Dr. Richardson did not believe in coincidences.

Next to Dr. Knowles’ name was a checkmark with a plus, indicating he was an extraordinary candidate for the job, and a six-pointed star, which showed Betsy had not only slept with Zach, but that he was great in bed.

Dr. Richardson turned off her computer and Rhonda knocked on the door.

“Ma’am, they’re closing the building. Do you need me to stay late?”

“No Rhonda, that will be it for today. Thank you.”

As Rhonda left, Dr. Richardson said, “Mr. Washington, the air conditioning system shuts off in half-an-hour. Would you like to continue our conversation at my home,” adding, although she was sure Zachary Washington knew exactly where she lived, “it’s close to campus.”

“Very much.”

Betsy Knowles was right; he was great in bed.

* * * *

Anna Richardson was a horny woman; she’d been a horny girl. Unfortunately, her parents, two brilliant academics, raised her in a world where only brains mattered and there Anna excelled; she was always the smartest kid in the room. However, awkward socially, she didn’t get what she wanted most, those good-looking young men in her high school and college between her legs.

So she’d become fascinated by behavior modification; if she couldn’t get guys through flirting or tight clothes or well-applied make-up, at all of which she was inept, maybe she could smart them into her bed.

She lost her virginity during her second year of grad school. While leading a tour of the lab for a group of visiting high school seniors she sat the cutest young man (and he was some cute) in front of computer video describing, like kırıkkale escort the others, the lab’s work. Unlike the others, however his had an extra twist – a subliminal message that induced him to sneak out of the dorm in which his class was staying and into her bed.

Over the years Dr. Richardson acquired the social skills her parents neglected to teach her. She was single, successful, and, at age fifty, quite attractive; she took good care of her body and taught herself fashion and make-up. However, she was emotionally frozen. Men her age didn’t interest her; she yearned for the hunky young men who’d ignored her decades ago. So each semester and summer an intern was selected for her lab and, with a single exception, after appropriate modification, her bed. That exception was Zachary Washington. He didn’t require modification; he was made to order.

* * * *

Zach checked the clock; it was time to get over to Dr. Richardson’s. He was close, but the final steps in the programing still eluded him.

“Zachary.”

He looked up, checked to make sure they were alone, for only he was allowed to call her anything other than Dr. Richardson and then only in private, and said, “Hello Anna. I was just shutting down.”

“Don’t,” she said, “I’ve followed your work. It’s quite brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

She looked at him; she’d expected more of a reaction.

“You knew I was watching?”

“It would be more accurate to say I simply assumed you were monitoring what I was doing. I doubt anything happens in this lab you don’t know about.”

She smiled, he was right, then continued, “I noticed you weren’t trying to disguise what you were doing. Were you looking for my input?”

Zach said, “If I got absolutely stuck I would have come to you, otherwise I figured you’d give it to me when you were ready, when you decided I needed it.”

“You’re correct, I’ve enjoyed watching your progress, but at this point I think it best to save you some time, especially since your internship ends soon. You’ve outlined three solutions to your problem. Based on tonight’s work it appears you rejected option one.”

“That’s correct.”

” I’d suggest you skip number two. It won’t work either. Option three, however…”

* * * *

On his final day as an intern Anna and Zach were in her bed after a lazy afternoon fuck, Zach’s cell phone lying between them, a bottle of champagne ready. At exactly 2:06, not 2:05 or 2:07, Zach’s father called.

Zach put the phone on speaker.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hi son. I was just sitting here, well actually I’m standing, thinking about my special son. I decided to call and let him know.”

“Thank you Dad. Is Mom there?”

“She’s upstairs. Do you want me to get her?”

“No, that’s not necessary. If it’s okay, Dr. Richardson wants to take me to dinner tonight to celebrate my last day. I’d spend the night in her guest bedroom.”

“That’s great son. I’ll let your Mom know. Tell Annie hello from me.”

As Zach’s father hung up the phone Anna handed Zach a glass of champagne. His father had followed the script laid out by the subliminal message on his computer to the letter.

Robert Washington hung up the phone, confused. Why had he said Ivanka was upstairs? She was at the office. Why had he said he was standing when he was sitting? Why had he called Dr. Richardson, Annie, he knew the name was Anna. But he didn’t wonder for long, for the conversation, per the subliminal message’s instruction, was already fading from his mind.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, at exactly 2:36, Zach’s cell phone buzzed. Zach, who’d just put down his glass of champagne, pressed the speaker button.

“Hey Mom.”

“Hi son. Your father called. I wanted to let you know when you get home tomorrow we’ll be at a reception for the Connellys’ at the Roosevelt Hotel. Also congratulations on your last day as an intern, make sure to say hello to Dr. Richards for me. And don’t tell her, I want it to be a surprise, but her lab will receive a generous donation from the foundation at year’s end.”

“Our secret Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Anna and Zach tipped heir glasses together; Ivanka had followed the script, word for word.

Ivanka, like her husband, turned off the phone, wondering. The reception was at the Waldorf, how had she gotten that wrong? The name was Richardson, not Richards, she knew that. Was she was working too hard? But, like her husband, these thoughts didn’t bother her for long. Except for the part about the donation, the conversation disappeared from her memory.

* * * *

After finishing the champagne Anna Richardson reached for Zach’s dick and said, “Instead of going out to dinner, let’s order in.”

* * * *

Zach Washington knew his friends would have thought him odd, or maybe just willing to whore himself for a job, if they knew he was sleeping with Anna Richardson instead of chasing all the available pussy their own age, but that wasn’t what Zach kırıkkale escort bayan wanted. He preferred successful older women and it didn’t require an experimental psychiatrist to explain why. His mother was the model for all of them.

The daughter of a real estate developer, Ivanka graduated high school in two years and the Wharton Business School in three. While there she created a software program that allowed individuals and owners of small businesses to design their homes and offices. Several of her father’s friends funded her start-up, the most important of whom, Robert Washington, was twenty years her senior. He’d made his fortune building waste water treatment plants and, even more lucratively, completing his competitor’s failed projects. There was a lot more money in fixing other people’s screw-ups then building them yourself.

When Ivanka and Robert married she was carrying Zach.

Ivanka made millions with her software. She made even more with her houseware products, then multiplied that by moving into jewelry, clothes, handbags, shoes, and accessories.

She spoke, in addition to English, French, Spanish, Czech, and Russian. Personable, well-spoken, brilliant, she served on numerous boards and championed opportunities for women in business. Supremely well behaved, no matter the intensity of the fracas, her take-charge attitude and soft mellifluous voice calmed all who heard it.

And she was beautiful. In her teens and early-twenties she’d walked runways and done advertising campaigns for top designers. She was the subject of a stream of feature stories in business and other publications; magazine publishers found sales spiked when her face appeared on the cover. And although in her late thirties, the gym rat in her had ensured she remained breathtaking, carrying 135 pounds on her hourglass five feet eleven inch 40-27-36 frame and “D” cup breasts.

No, Zach did not need a psychiatrist to explain why he was attracted to older women, they resembled his mother. What he wanted, however, was not women who resembled his mother, he wanted his mother. It’d seemed hopeless, then he read Dr. Richardson’s research.

* * * *

Zach had long ago hacked into his parents’ phones and computers, looking for the crack needed to put his plan in place. He found it in his father’s texts to a few close friends complaining about the demands put on him by his wife’s ascending star. The sub-text was clear. While Bob Washington was proud of Ivanka, he also wondered whether he could keep up with his dynamic younger wife. Zach could use that.

* * * *

At the office Ivanka attended meetings, took phone calls, worked on her computer, and found herself increasingly distracted by the steady burn between her legs. Ivanka liked sex, she liked it a lot, but it rarely interfered with her work, but it was today. She’d read women reach their sexual peak at her age. She didn’t know whether it was true, but right now it sure felt like it.

She got a text from her son. He’d be hanging with Kathryn tonight. With Zach out… She called her husband and in her best bedroom voice said she’d bring home a bottle of wine.

After Ivanka hung up the phone she turned back to her computer, absorbing the subliminal message, “YOU ARE AROUSED. YOU ARE ENTERING YOUR SEXUAL PEAK,” that flashed across her screen a thousand times a second.

Bob also liked sex, but while Ivanka preferred strenuous hours in the bedroom, Bob favored quickies. That’s where his secretary Trixie, always ready for a three minute blow job or five minute fuck, came in. Bob figured Ivanka knew about it, but also knew Trixie wasn’t a threat to their marriage and was willing to let Bob have a little circumspect fun on the side. He replayed the phone call in his mind, that sweet sexy soft voice, Bob couldn’t recall her ever sounding this ready. He buzzed Trixie, told her she needn’t work late, then looked to his computer and its subliminal message, “IVANKA IS ENTERING HER SEXUAL PEAK. AT YOUR AGE YOU WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO SATISFY HER.”

* * * *

Running blueprints through his head, Bob was trying to stave off his orgasm. Ivanka had come twice, small ones, and both knew there was another one, the big one, lurking inside her. Normally he had no trouble going this long, but his dick was so sensitive tonight.

She started bucking under him, clutching him to her, moaning his name, then she came. Grateful to have lasted this long Bob spilled himself inside her, but with more a sense of relief than pleasure.

* * * *

The next day Ivanka, subliminal message pulsing on her computer, was wondering whether her husband could take the afternoon off. She was supposed to chair a fund raiser that evening which would keep them out late; she needed to be fucked now. She checked her calender. She’d ruffle some feathers but there was nothing she couldn’t cancel.

She called her husband, purred, “Darling, how about a rendevous at the apartment this afternoon? Zach won’t escort kırıkkale be home.”

Bob looked to his computer, the message flashing across it – IVANKA IS ENTERING HER SEXUAL PEAK. AT YOUR AGE YOU WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO SATISFY HER – having filtered into his unconscious mind, knew he wasn’t up to another long fuck.

Recalling the old days, when he could fuck his secretary and go home and service his gorgeous wife, he told a white lie, “I’m sorry dear, too busy.”

* * * *

At the fund raiser Ivanka was, as always, appropriate. Still Bob knew his wife well enough to read the signs, she was on fire. He was happy Zach was hanging at home tonight with Kathryn, his current girlfriend. It would give Bob the excuse to skip the sex.

At home, however, Zach, the glow on his and Kathryn’s faces leaving no doubt what they’d been doing, said, “Kathryn learned today that she’s being transferred to her firm’s Hong Kong office. It’s a huge promotion. Some friends invited us over to celebrate. Is it okay if I go, I hang out a little late tonight?”

Bob, knowing how Ivanka would want to use the time, was about to object, it was a school night after all, but Ivanka spoke first, “That’s fine son. Take your time, have a good night. Kathryn congratulations.”

Ivanka gave the young woman a congratulatory hug; she could smell the sex on her.

* * * *

Bob was on top, rocking his body into Ivanka. They’d just started, but he was already running job specifications through his mind, trying to stave off his orgasm, then, his balls boiling, he came, an act vastly more embarrassing than pleasurable. He tried to keep going, but his shrunken dick, supersensitive in the wake of his ejaculation, would have none of it, the walls of his wife’s sex was excruciating. He pulled out.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”

Although frustrated, Ivanka held her husband and said, “It’s okay dear, a lot of stuff at work?”

“Yeah.”

Once he fell asleep, feeling a bit guilty, Ivanka retreated to the guest bedroom and brought herself off with her fingers. On the way back she stopped in her office to check incoming mail. The subliminal message flashing across the screen was undetectable to the conscious mind: “KATHRYN LOOKED VERY HAPPY, YOUR SON MUST BE QUITE THE LOVER.”

Back in bed Ivanka thought about Kathryn. The woman had been positively glowing, her son must be a skilled lover. Hadn’t she read men his age were at their sexual peak?

* * * *

It got worse. Over the following weeks Ivanka was aroused all the time. Her husband, however, was increasingly unable to perform, usually unable to achieve an erection. He’d always been an indifferent pussy eater and while he used his fingers on her, they were no substitute for cock.

Spurred by the subliminal messages, Ivanka also found herself becoming fixated on Zach and Kathryn. She knew her son was sexually active, she’d made sure Bob had the birth control conversation with him, but otherwise had tried not to think about it, but now when she came home to their flushed happy faces she’d wait for them to leave and visit Zach’s bedroom, where she’d enjoy the primal smell and touch the rumpled bed and still warm mattress. Those two were devoting their last few weeks to the carnal side of life, but, Ivanka thought, hadn’t that always been central to their relationship.

When Kathryn first appeared Ivanka had been concerned. Why was this beautiful attorney dating a high school student ten years her junior. Was she after the family money? She’d obliquely approached Zach about it, but Zach, discerning what was on her mind, assured her he was far too young to make a life commitment, that he and Kathryn clicked, they were having fun, but they’d both would move on, she with her career and he with school. Ivanka left the conversation comforted, and convinced Zach and his contemporaries had a far more open attitude towards romance and sex than had she.

On Kathryn’s final night in town Ivanka and Bob took she and Zach out to an early dinner so they could attend a going away party and, Ivanka assumed, return to Kathryn’s place for a fiery final fuck.

That night, thoughts of Kathryn and Zach’s entangled bodies bouncing around her head, Ivanka took Bob’s penis in her mouth, but despite her best efforts (and Ivanka was good) Bob could not manage an erection. He used his fingers on her, but Ivanka had to fake it, no orgasm possible amidst her mounting frustration. It wasn’t even a convincing job of acting and Bob, embarrassed, mumbled something and drifted off to sleep. After Ivanka and her new vibrator visited the guest bedroom she want to check on Zach. He wasn’t home and it was two hours past curfew, but Ivanka knew she’d let it slide. At least one woman was having fun tonight.

* * * *

Ivanka was sitting in a boring meeting. She and Bob had finally had that heart-to-heart conversation; he’d see a urologist. That decision had taken sex off the table, they’d wait for a medical explanation, but for Ivanka something else was missing. Bob no longer looked at her with that gleam in his eyes, the look that said that, even after years of marriage, he thought her sexy and desirable. She thought she understood why: thinking of her as a sexual object now only shamed him, reminded him of his inability to perform.

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