u/kimo_top911

Hey, I'm Karim, 19 from Egypt. Right now I'm living in Suez for university, far away from home and my mom, which makes me think about her non-stop and jerk off like crazy every day
The whole thing started when I heard about the Nswanji forum in the movie "El Haram El Rab3". I had no clue what it was, so I checked it out and spent 3 months there. Then I got into the stories sections, and eventually fell deep into the incest stories for another 2 months—reading non-stop, feeling disgusted and addicted at the same time, but the curiosity was eating me alive. I just wanted to know what the hell was going on in those stories.
That's when it escalated: I started imagining my own mom in those plots while I read. My mom is 43, thick curvy MILF, 176 cm tall, around 85 kg—tall, meaty but super attractive in a way that grabs your eyes. Wheat-fair skin, super soft and smooth, always looks fresh because she takes crazy good care of herself and her body. Her tits are big and soft, naturally round, bouncing hard when she walks fast or sits suddenly. Her ass is round and full, those thick cheeks firm and jiggly with every step—like they were sculpted, pure perfection. Her pussy lips are puffy, same wheat-fair color as her skin, always look inviting. Her thighs are fire—thick with that perfect curve, creamy white-wheat, so soft you'd swear they're butter if you touched them. Her waist is a bit thick but gives her that feminine hourglass shape. Long black-brown hair, full lips (bottom one bigger and perfectly drawn), honey-wide eyes with a calm but magnetic look that makes you stare forever. Her face is gorgeous—plump cheeks, balanced features, always glowing from skincare and all that.
Our relationship was normal at first, like any mom and son. She's a proper housewife—respectable, sweet, takes care of the house, cooks, cleans, holds everything together. I saw her every day in her routine, but over time I started noticing her body differently. It began with small things: staring when she moved around the house, smelling her scent and feeling her softness when she passed by me. But what really changed everything was the accidental glimpses.
The first big moment was at night—I went into her room looking for something, she was asleep. Her nightie was pulled up to her waist, no panties. Her pussy was fully exposed, lips puffy and shiny like they were wet. Legs slightly open, ass lifted on one side, cheeks perfectly round and clear. Tits half out of the nightie, nipples visible. I froze, heart pounding from fear and horniness. I remembered the stories I read, pulled out my phone and filmed her quietly. Stayed a bit, then left. After that I started sneaking back every night hoping it happens again—and it did, a lot.
That view changed how I saw her body forever. From then on I felt something inside me shift—how can I have this body right here, while I'm jerking off to her panties, sniffing them, addicted to her scent. After that I paid way more attention. I'd watch her ass sway in the living room, especially in tight pajamas where the fabric hugged every curve of her cheeks, jiggling softly with each step. Once I saw her in the kitchen washing dishes in a tight tank top, ass popping out, tits shaking with every hand movement. Her scent filled the place, thighs thick and MILF-shaped—I stared from afar, mind only on her body moving.
Things got worse when I got a chance to snoop on her phone. She left it on the living room table and went to sleep. Curiosity killed me—I wanted to know if she watched porn or did anything wild. Opened the browser, nothing. Then WhatsApp, went to her chat with dad. Found a pic of her pussy, fingers deep inside, lips swollen and soaked. Caption: "I'm so exhausted, need you to relieve me" and "I miss you so much right now." Realized she's starving for sex—dad's always busy with work, can't satisfy her needs. The pic was crystal clear, her pussy smooth and tempting. I stared for a while, copied everything (pics, messages, screenshots) to my phone. Closed it like nothing happened, but that image became a movie in my head every time I see her.
Nothing changed in front of her—we still talk normally. But inside me, something shifted. I love staring at her during her routine: when she sits in the living room with one leg up, thighs exposed, or when she fixes her long hair in the mirror. Once I saw her coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a short towel, tits bulging from the top, ass moving with every step. Her scent filled the hallway, and I told myself that body is