"I'm old enough to be your mother." I said to the kid who had just offered to buy me a drink. It was true that I was in the bar in hopes of perhaps meeting someone. But not to rob the proverbial cradle, and literal too. The youth who had boldly seated himself next to me and who was coming on to a woman twice his years bore an uncanny resemblance to my son at that age.

"Actually, you bear a striking similarity to my mom." He said in quick reply.

I was not thrown off by this, "OH? Do you have a thing for your mommy?" That ought to throw cold water on this audacious pup!

"As a matter of fact, I do have an Oedipus Complex, that's why I'm attracted to you."

"Well! There's a pick up line I've never heard before!" I laughed.

"I've never used it before either - but it is remarkable, you could be my mom's sister, or twin separated at birth. And I've had this thing for my mother ever since my teens. I don't know why I approached you; maybe because I felt I could trust you, since you are the very picture of mom. I'll show you."

He pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of a woman - not me, but could be sort of. DAMN! There was some kind of genome juju going on. The really odd and scary thing was that I had a secret yen for my son to make love to me. He never would. He was dead, war, Iraq, IED, at 23. Afterwards I found the stuff he had written on his computer he left behind at home. Fantasies of sex with me, his mother.

I read of his deep love, his wish to demonstrate it physically to me. His words spoke of a respect for me that had kept his desire secret unto death. But it didn't follow him to the grave. It lived on in his lurid writings on the hard-drive and in the driving lust it sparked in my loins for my son's hard-on. Now that he was gone, it seemed almost a double loss as the lover he might have become to me. Now we could never know that joy. But through reading his fantasies I was able at least to masturbate dreaming of my boy fucking me. Then I began to create my own "what if" dreams of incest. It got so intense I had to stop.

I thought I had put that behind me long ago. The moistness between my thighs told me otherwise. Here was a hunk, a double of my Danny, trying to put the moves on me and I was going to be a MILF on wheels. Suddenly I realized that it had been too long a moment of gazing at the image of my doppelganger. He was expecting confirmation of what he claimed. "Spittin' image" I squeaked in my shock. I took a moment to catch my breathe, then I said with a voice husky from hormones flowing, "Let's get out of here."

I wanted to talk about the feelings we had, because I was trying to both understand why my son had wanted me; and why that had turned me on and given me those reciprocal incestuous desires which could never be fulfilled. Maybe in Heaven. Or perhaps...

"My hotel room is around the corner."

It was that easy. We arrived at his place with a bottle of bourbon from the corner store and a couple of joints from the janitor the bellhop put us in touch with. I was happy to light up a dobie, the youth wanted the drink. "So tell me, why do you want to fuck your mother?" I asked sitting on the edge of his bed. I knew why he had me here. I knew why I had come. But while I was willing, I had my own agenda first.

He began unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't, well ... I do, but more the concept than actually her. I mean, she would be totally mortified if I came on to her. I would never want to upset her like that. I love my mom too much to try to seduce her, and I'm sure she never had any thoughts about me." Next he dropped drawers, jockeys. Looked like a nice size package.

I shed my blouse likewise, "Well, some mom's - most mothers - are not in the least interested in their sons. We have changed their diapers and spanked their behinds and tried to raise them to leave the nest." ['Yeah, mine did and look what happened to him!' a stray tangent thought twinged with regret for my lost boy.] I stood and went to the closet to hang my silk skirt on the door hook. "But sometimes, some sons, and some mothers, and some circumstances, are ... just right for them to do something usually considered wrong." Off came my bra.

"Why did you accept my invitation? Do you have feelings for your son?"