Hi there, the name is Calvin Dixon and I'm twenty years old. I am finishing my Bachelor Degree in Business at UNLV. Yeah I know, do the math, how do you finish four years of college at twenty. Actually that is kind of what started all of this.
I went into university in an accelerated program and I basically finished high school at sixteen. The only problem was I had the academic skills and not the social skills. You got it; here I am a twenty year old virgin.
As a part of finishing my program, I needed to do some kind of term paper. While most of my fellow older classmates seemed to focus on things like finances and statistics, I wanted something more concrete. So, being the naive curious male; I wanted to know why people spent so much on sex.
Now don't get the wrong idea, I wasn't thinking of hookers and things like that. Be real, sex sells; and to the tune of billions of dollars a year. Things like clothing, cosmetics, gyms; they all catered to the same thing...sex. What's the first thing you ask when you try on that new dress? Does it make me sexy?
So, I started my research. I found out how many billions of dollars a year are spent in the United States every year for clothing and all of that. Then, I found the interesting paradox.
In Nevada, an average "date" could cost almost a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars. Look, you do the math this time. Two dinners at twenty a head, plus tips was pushing fifty. Then, add two tickets for a movie at what ten or fifteen dollars. That was another say twenty-five. Add the food snacks and you were hitting a hundred dollars. Then, if you went to a club; between drinks and door fees you could spend another fifty or more.
Now, when you added the time factor, an average date was at least four hours long, at minimum wage of eight dollars that was another thirty dollars.
It suddenly occurred to this virgin, that I would be sinking close to two hundred dollars of money and time...into a maybe. Maybe she'll kiss me; maybe she'll give me a hand job. Maybe after two dates I might get a blowjob. Be real, a guy was sinking almost five hundred dollars and how much time before he ever got past third base.
Now, compare that to Nevada; where prostitution is legal. An escort could be found for a couple of hundred or so. I could financially pay out for TWO guarantees by the time I had invested the same amount of time and money into a maybe.
The math didn't make sense to me, OK call me naïve. There had to be something else that "sold" the cost and effort in the dating scene. I just couldn't figure it out.
By the time Christmas break closed in, I had completed all my research, and was ready to start writing my paper. I still couldn't explain the paradox. I spoke with my professor, who seemed a little bemused by my confusion. He said maybe I needed to take a more psychological approach instead of a business approach. The man might have an idea, after all isn't advertising based on the psychology of selling to the public.
By the time I was heading on the road home for Christmas break, I had at least a partial answer, and it was waiting for me in Grand Junction, Colorado. That was mom, she might be able to help I thought.
Who is mom? Mom is Claire Dixon or should I say Dr. Claire Dixon. At forty-two mom had worked herself to having a pretty successful psychotherapy practice back home. I figured she might be able to answer some of my questions.
That's right, do the math again; mom was twenty-two when I was born. Still in college and finishing her own four year program mom had met the "man of her dreams." Except, she wasn't the woman of his dreams it seemed. When he found out mom was pregnant, he made like the genie in the bottle and poofed.
Mom raised me herself, and managed to finish her masters in psychology at the same time. Having only ever been mom and me, I never felt the need for a "father figure", mom was just mom. She fed me, clothed me, and kissed my owies. Later she attended my school functions and explained the birds and bees to me. Yeah, I admit, I also masturbated to the most perverted thoughts of her on many a night. I mean shit, mom was hot. At barely over five foot six, mom packed a hell of a pair of 36C's and had that tight bubble ass to fucking die for.
Yeah, yeah; I know all about the Oedipus crap. Life is what it is and I'm not going to hide from the fact that when I was sixteen I would have loved to bed my own mother. Like I said, I didn't have much exposure for social skills, and having her hot body wandering around the house all day fed my teenage hormones.
Come on, when you see her long blonde hair, those bright blue eyes; you can't help it. When she walks by wearing that damn red bikini, I still get a raging hard on. Still, we had always been close; and mom had always made a point to openly discuss literally every topic. So she was the one that topped my list for reference for my term paper.
I got home later on Friday after classes had ended. The seven hour drive put me there about eleven at night. Mom had waited up, knowing I was coming in. I put my stuff in my room for the two weeks I would be home, and went downstairs to find her in the kitchen reheating leftovers for me.
I don't know which got me more, the growl of my stomach at the smell of food, or the fact she was standing waiting for the microwave in a white thin silk robe that ended well above her knees. My eyes quickly looked away from the creamy firm thighs that disappeared under the hem of the robe. Fuck, focus I thought.
We sat at the table and caught up from last summer. I tried not to look at the gap in the top of her robe. I saw the pale blue night gown she was wearing peeking out. And the valley that descended between her breasts kept drawing my eyes.
At one point she leaned over and picked up her cigarettes, I could only stare as a full view of the tops of her creamy breasts filled my eyes. Then, I watched her light her cigarette as I felt a fresh surge of blood fill my cock.
No, I don't smoke. But I will tell you, there is something about watching my mother wrap those lips around a circular tube, and then to see her cheeks slightly cave as she sucks in; it fucking drives me insane.
It was when the conversation hit about how school was going, that things finally came out. I explained the term paper to her, what my research had been, and then finally the paradox I had found.
I watched as my mother took a drag from her cigarette, my eyes flitting between those pursed lips and the rise in her chest as her full breasts pressed against the thin robe.
"What you're describing isn't about economics" my mother said after a moment. "It's more about desire than dollars."
"What do you mean?" I asked; startled back by her words.
"What do you want Calvin, sex or love?" she asked with a soft smile.
My confused look must have spurred her on. She tapped her ashes as she continued.
"There is a big difference between what someone wants and what someone needs." She told me. "If you need a car, you save money, buy used and basic. But if you WANT a car, you buy new and expensive."
"I get that" I shook my head. "People will always spend more money for something they crave over something they need. That's the basics of selling a luxury. What I don't understand is that sex is sex, right, so what's the difference."
I watched as my mother slowly ground out her cigarette, a thoughtful look on her face. I could tell the wheels were turning in her mind and that she was trying to decide her next step.
"You're still a virgin, aren't you" she locked eyes with me.
"Ummm yeah" I answered, still confused.
