I, Josh, grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. We lived in a large house by the lake with a private beachfront. There was nothing I asked for that I didn't get within days: A bicycle, a PlayStation, the newest smartphone, and even a car. In elementary school, 80% of the parties were on our property. Everybody knew that they'd have the best food and entertainment at my house. In high school, I was more selective of the friends I wished to be seen with, but we still spent a lot of our free time in my spacious room. Mom used to knock on the door, smile at us, and ask what we wanted to eat or drink. My friends weren't shy and ordered juice, soda, coffee, cookies, snacks - you get the picture. We had it all and plenty.
Dad, George, was hardly at home. As a rich industrialist, he spent most of his time at work, getting richer by the day. I hardly knew my father. He was too busy outside the house. At times, he ate dinner with us and tried to show interest in my studies and hobbies, but when I became a senior in high school, his interests waned further.
Mom was a homemaker. She loved to cook and prepared most of the meals herself, even though we had 2 'helpers' who did the cleaning, gardening, laundry, and everything else needed around the house. Unlike Dad, my mother was much warmer and showed her love for me a lot. She kissed me before I left for school and when I returned, helped me prepare for exams, drove me to after-school activities, and was there for me when she noticed I was upset.
My 18th birthday was a big event: Mom and Dad were present, as were 30 of my classmates and friends. A known band played their instruments for us, and bottomless food and drinks were served.
During the party, my best friend, Art, caught me when I was alone and asked me an unusual question, "Josh, now that I see both your mother and father, I wonder who you look like. I mean, you look very different than your mother and father. Were you adopted?"
"Are you nuts?"
He laughed. We soon forgot about it and talked about the latest NFL results. However, later, when I was in bed, I remembered Art's question. I thought about it and realized he may have been right: I was 6'2", 183 pounds, with dark skin. Unlike me, Dad was 5'7", with pale skin. Mom was 5'5" with white skin. Something didn't fit...
The following weekend, I ate breakfast with Mom and asked her about our so different appearances. She hesitated and then said, "I should have told you this before, but I was afraid your relationship with George would change. I decided to delay talking about it as long as I could. Your biological father is a guy by the name of Gabriel. You are a carbon copy of him when he was your age. Gabriel was a handsome guy with whom I fell in love. We had unprotected sex when I was 18, and soon after I got pregnant. He was not ready to get married and insisted I get an abortion. I refused, and he disappeared. I never heard from him since and have no idea where he is now. I met George when I was 4 months pregnant. He was 11 years older than me and not very attractive physically, but he was a good man and very rich. He agreed to marry me despite carrying somebody else's child in my body. I was very pretty, and I thought he wanted me as his trophy wife. In short, I married him when I was 7 months pregnant with you, and the rest is history."
She gazed at me and mumbled, "Honey, I hope you are not too upset that I kept it until today."
"I am not upset. I am surprised I didn't think about it before despite the way we look."
"Josh dear, the important thing is George loves you as if you were his own son."
I smirked, "Mom, I guess he loves you and me the same - He is never home and thinks his money buys us happiness."
Mom's pretty face grimaced, "Please, honey, he is doing his best. George is very busy growing his factory and has to deal with multiple issues daily."
I looked at Mom. Actually, it was the first time I really saw her as a person and not as 'Mom.' She was still pretty. A couple of wrinkles, but a very cute face. Her shoulder-length, wavy, blonde hair framed nicely her attractive face. Her figure was voluptuous with an impressive rack, a narrow waist, and slightly wide hips. In her clothes, she looked as gorgeous as any of the girls in porno magazines.
In the past, I dated 2 girls, each one for about 3 months. Both looked good, but I was more interested in being seen with them than doing anything physical. We went to movies and attended parties together but never tried more than light kissing.
The discovery that my mother was a beauty hit me like a brick. The same night, I dreamt we started going out together, and she confessed she loved me more than just as a son. I woke up with a raging erection and masturbated in the bathroom.
In the following days, I tried to behave normally, but it was very difficult: Whenever I was home, Mom liked being nearby. Her angelic face and busty figure haunted me. Once, when she was out, I went to her room and explored her drawers. Most of her bras were the soft type with only 2 padded ones. All were D-cups or DD-cups. Her panties were mostly low-cut and matched the material and color of the bras in the other drawer. I smelled them. It was a faint floral odor. Later, I checked her soiled panties in the laundry basket. They smelled musky and... intoxicating.
What can I say - I became obsessed with Mom. The love for a mother turned into an attraction toward a beautiful woman. I was at an age of raging hormones, and my feelings toward Mom tormented me immensely. It was tough to concentrate on anything during the days, and frequently, I had wet dreams about her during the nights.
Mom noticed I started behaving differently, and one evening, she knocked on my door and asked to talk to me.
I was in bed, reading an article on my computer. She sat on the bed's edge and inquired what was going on. In the past, I told her everything I had on my mind, but this time, I hesitated.
She watched my face and blurted, "Honey, I love you too much to ignore that you are struggling with something important. Please, tell me what the problem is."
"Let's leave it. Perhaps later."
She touched my hand and begged, "I first noticed it more than a week ago, and I do not see a change. Don't you trust me? What is it?"
"Mom, I can't..."
"Don't you love me anymore?"
I couldn't hold it and burst, "The problem is that I love you TOO MUCH..."
"What are you saying?"
"It's no longer loving you as my mother. It's loving you as a very attractive woman."
Her hand caressed my arm gently, "Josh darling, Oedipus Complex is a common phenomenon at your age. You may experience 'love' for me, your teacher, or the librarian. It's not a true love but something I call hormonal obsession."
"Mom, I've read the theory and tried to focus on other subjects, but to no avail."
"It's time you date a girl your age, and the emotions associated with the new relationship will make you forget about your obsession with me."
"Mom, I love YOU!"
"Honey, what do you expect me to say?"
"I don't know, but I think about you all the time and cannot concentrate on my studies, sports, or my friends."
I saw tears in her eyes. I hugged her and whispered, "Sorry, Mom. I didn't want to upset you, but you forced me to admit it."
"Darling, I am not upset. I am confused..."
I stared at her pretty face quizzingly. She lowered her eyes and mumbled, "Josh, I fell in love with your biological father because he was very handsome. You are an exact copy of him..."
"Are you trying to say your feelings toward me are more than loving a son?"
"As I said, I am very confused and have become very emotional lately."
I hugged Mom tighter and whispered, "We are both confused now. Can we talk about the subject again tomorrow?"
She said, "It's a good idea. Let me go and prepare dinner."
She rushed outside. I suspected Mom had another reason to leave the room. I recalled while hugging her, I smelled her hair and felt her soft breasts pressing against me. My penis hardened in my pants.
