As I remember it now, life was not easy for me or my immediate family.
My dad and mom lived in Bosnia and got married at a young age (21 and 19, respectively).
I was born a year later.
Unfortunately, this was during the 1990s war in old Yugoslavia.
My father was drafted shortly after I was born. He served in the front line and died by a Serbian bullet in 1995.
My mother was 21 years old at the time and worked as a receptionist in one of the hospitals in Sarajevo.
The war ended in 1995, but Sarajevo was destroyed almost completely.
Mother didn't see any future for us in the ruins and applied for a special visa to the USA.
In 1997 our application got accepted and weeks later we arrived to Chicago.
Initially mom was very impressed with America. The tall buildings, wide streets, many cars, abundance of food and especially the freedom and security vs the situation in Bosnia.
However, it was still tough.
Imagine a young woman in her 20s with limited knowledge of the English language trying to find a job!
Having a 3 years old son with no husband or other relatives to help made it much tougher.
Mom managed to find a job as a cashier in a supermarket during the day and even study in the evenings. She was helped by a nice neighbor, that charged her very little for taking care of me much of the day.
At that time I was too little to grasp the difficulties that mom had to go through.
For me Anna, the old neighbor, was an aunt that helped mom.
Our economic situation slowly improved once I started elementary school.
Mom's language difficulties diminished, she graduated nursing school and we moved to an apartment building in a better neighborhood.
Slowly we started using our new language instead of Bosnian.
When I was in 3rd grade, my brain began grasping mom's hardship, working both in the hospital and at home, comparing to the life of many other moms of other students in my class.
I still recall mom crying one evening.
I hugged mom and blurted, "Mom, when I grow up I am going to marry you and become a doctor!"
Her cry turned to chuckling, "I know dear. I love you too."
She never told me why she wept, but seeing her crying scarred me for life...
Unlike most other boys, who played basketball or video games with other children, my priority was always helping mom FIRST.
She was begging me to leave and socialize with other kids, but my answer was always the same, "Mom, I love you and I don't want you to be alone. I'll help you and then go out."
She was very shy. Was it her upbringing? A result of war trauma? Death of her husband?...
I tried to talk to her to look on line for a date with single men, but she refused to do it.
When I was in my teens, I told her, "Mom, right now it's only you and me against the world, but it doesn't mean that we have to be alone. You need a boyfriend that will help you at home."
She kissed me, "Adnan, your father was my man. Now that god wanted him in the sky, my destiny is to be with you until you grow up."
...
In my late teens my hormones started raging.
I saw mom on multiple occasions in her underwear, but only when I was 18 I caught a glimpse of her naked in the bathroom. The door was not completely closed.
I stood there mesmerized.
It was the first time I saw mom as an attractive woman. She looked gorgeous!
At 5'3", 130 pounds, nicely shaven legs, perfect ass cheeks, flat tummy and B+ tits, she was my Venus!
Mom was taking a shower behind the semitransparent glass door.
Her body glistened with water pouring over her lean body.
Her hands were slowly moving along her body with the soapy loofah.
Mom was a vision of pure beauty...
My penis jolted forward and up, becoming rock hard in seconds...
Mom finished soaping and turned around to rinse herself.
I was so taken by the erotic view, that I didn't pay attention to the music coming from the inside. An old tape that was playing a Bosnian song.
All of a sudden mom began dancing in the shower to the tune.
She didn't make extreme moves, but the erotic way she was swaying, with her breasts jiggling from side to side... I couldn't hold it anymore and I came in my pants...
In the next few weeks I tried my luck several times to see if the door was open during times that she was taking a shower. It never happened again.
From that day forward I could not stop seeing mom's fantastic body in front of me every time I closed my eyes.
I masturbated at least twice a day, fantasizing about her!...
...
Months later I started my college years.
I had decent grades and got accepted to 5 colleges in the upper Midwest.
I chose the university of Illinois in Chicago, because they offered me aid.
More importantly, I could live at home. With mom.
During the first year in college my fond feelings toward mom only grew.
I loved her as my mother, knowing that I was the only one she trusted.
And for the first time I noticed that being a Muslim in our neighborhood was a burden.
As of late all Muslims were targeted, because of fanatic terrorists around the world.
It reinforced my decision to be close to mom.
At the same time my obsession with her body became almost intolerable.
I wasn't sure what to do about it.
I tried to distract myself by meeting other students and even going with them to bars.
In fact, 2 girls offered themselves to me.
I took one of them to a hotel. We undressed for sex, but... I couldn't do it!
My mother's face and body were haunting me. I apologized and got rid of her...
Mom noticed that I was going out more frequently in the evenings and seemed happy for me.
One evening she said, "Adnan dear, I like that you spend time with people your age. These days I have more free time too, so I thought of taking a class in computers. It is a practical course and it may help me in everything I wish to focus in the future."
"That is great mom!"
One afternoon I watched her walking with a pack of underwear, that just came out of the laundry. Her plan was to put it in the drawer.
The kettle whistled in the kitchen and mom turned to prepare tea for us.
