My obsession with mom started after I graduated high school and, oddly enough, with another woman. During my first year of college our neighbor divorced his wife. I didn't really talk to them a lot so I never got to know him, but the neighborhood rumor implied that she had a strange obsession with having a child, which her husband didn't share. Eventually he must have gotten tired of her and left.
Clearly she didn't take the split up too well. After the divorce she got notoriously flirty with the younger guys in the neighborhood, particularly myself. At first I went along with it, thinking that she wasn't going to act on anything she said. As time passed, however, she became increasingly explicit until one day she invited me inside her house. From that day on we sort of became fuck buddies. Almost weekly, she would text me to come over and I obviously didn't object.
She really was something else. Not only was she a total bombshell, but she made sure that sex never got stale or mundane. After a month or so she introduced roleplay into our sessions and everything got stranger from there. It started innocent enough. We did the standard, cliché stuff; nurse and doctor, police and robber, sexy librarian, etc. One night, however, she suggested mother/son to which I objected at first.
"It can be step mother and son, if that makes you feel more comfortable," she told me.
It really didn't make much of a difference but somehow she convinced me to give it a shot. I usually liked to participate in our roleplay sessions but I let her do most of the talking this time around, limiting my enjoyment purely to the sex and not so much the story. To my surprise, however, as the night went on I caught myself enjoying it a great deal. Some weird Freudian thing must have clicked that night because I kept thinking back on that night later in the week. When she eventually invited me for our weekly meet up I timidly requested we try it again.
This time around I wanted to participate more but I was still very shy. I mostly just kept repeating "oh, mommy" over and over again. It was cheesy and not super creative but it was enough to get my imagination going. And apparently she was also enjoying what little I was contributing. After we were done we agreed to make this our regular thing.
After all this, it was only natural that I start seeing my mom in a different way. I often caught myself staring at her round ass. During the weekends I looked forward to see her sunbathing by the pool in her bikini. At night I fought off the urge to sneak into her room to see her sleeping shirtless.
I really let myself indulge in these new desires. So much, that when mom told me she was going to be out of town for the weekend I knew I had to do something special.
"Come over," I texted my neighbor. "You can sleep in mom's bed."
"The whole weekend?!"she responded.
"Yeah," I said. "We're going to have the house to ourselves. And don't bring clothes. Mom should be around your size."
Everything before that seemed like practice for that weekend. For those two days, we roleplayed from the moment we got up to the moment we went to bed, even when we weren't having sex. I called her by mom's name, she would make breakfast and dinner, I did the chores she asked me to do, etc. Even when she had to leave the house she made sure I never stopped thinking about her as my mom. She sent me texts, sent me nudes, even left sexy notes around the house for me to find, all to keep the illusion going. For a moment I actually tricked myself into thinking she was actually my mother.
All good things come to an end, though. Eventually mom came back and my neighbor had move back to her place. Interacting with mom was understandably harder now. We hugged and my hands couldn't fall down her back to grab her ass. When she told me she was tired and needed a shower she didn't follow it up by inviting me to join her. It hadn't been a day and I already missed my alternative mother, the one who would "forget I was home" and masturbated in my room, waiting to be caught.
Mom disappeared into the hallway; leaving me alone with the thought that she was going to be completely naked in another room, running a bar of soap across her wet body. Maybe I just need to masturbate, I thought. Once I cum everything will be back to normal. I headed to my room but was stopped mid way.
"Honey?" I heard her yell from the bathroom. Annoyed, I went to the bathroom, knowing that she wouldn't be exposing herself to me, as I would have wanted. Not surprisingly, she was fully clothed. Surprisingly, however, she was holding on to a single piece of paper. My heart sank as I realized it was clearly one of the many notes my neighbor wrote me. I must have missed it somehow.
"Did... did you write this?" she asked, extending her hand towards me to show me the discovery.
I wasn't sure what to respond. I could let her believe I was the author of the explicit note, which would lead her to think her son writes incest fiction starring the both of them; or I could tell her the truth, which meant she'd know someone roleplays as her with her son.
I took the paper from her hands and skimmed it nervously. There was no way out of this, I thought. Both our names were written into the note and there was no way I could make her believe that someone else wrote it and left it here without me knowing. To make matters worse, it probably ended as bad as it could have: "when I get back, I want you to jump into the shower with me."
The safest option, I thought, was the first. I lied and told her I wrote it, saying that I didn't know what came over me.
"It's ok..." she said awkwardly, "You have... quite the imagination." She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it into the trash, saying, "let's forget I ever found this, okay?" forcing a smile.
The next couple of days were awkward. Mom and I avoided each other and our dinners together were silent. I felt so bad that I didn't masturbate or even respond to my neighbor's texts. At night I stayed awake horrified that mom knew I had a thing for her. I wanted to make it up to her somehow but didn't know exactly how.
"Enough is enough," I finally thought to myself while lying in bed one night. "The sooner we talk abut the elephant in the room the faster we can put this behind us."
The next morning I woke up determined to rip off the bandage. I looked for her in her room but didn't find her. The bed still wasn't made, meaning she had only recently gotten up. Disappointed, I led out a sigh and wondered if she was already making breakfast. Before heading out into the kitchen, however I noticed something strange.
Laying on top the messy sheets of her bed was a single wrinkled written piece of paper. The last line read "when I get back, I want you to jump into the shower with me."
"Weird," I thought, "I could have sworn she threw it away." Wondering what reasons mom could've had to keep the note, I left the paper where I had found it and exited her room.
