I had to re-edit this so nobody can dox me. Sorry about that, guys.

Since I first arrived on this reddit, I've told pieces and parts of the story of my mom and I so I decided to actually put everything together into one post to give people a better handle on our life...

...my mom was born in Arkansas. Her parents moved the family to Iowa when my grandfather got a job at John Deere that was getting him almost twice as much as he was making back east.

She finished her schooling up here, and met my dad. Dad was in the Army. He died in a training accident. We'd moved down there, but without my dad anchoring us my mom decided to move back to Iowa: she had her sisters and brother back here in the Quad Cities.

I was born in the 90s. By that point, my mom had gotten a job and provided for us.

It was a great life: we were always there for each other, and went on vacation to Ontario, Canada every year. We did alot of hiking and camping off the grid. Looking back I can see that our romantic love probably started there: we would cuddle up together at night and share our body heat.

Mom supported me in everything I did, whether it was baseball, theatre, or teenage punk/country bands. I can remember one time in my junior year when my highschool baseball team won regionals, and she ran out onto the field and jumped into my arms, placing my cap on her head while I held her.

After highschool I went into the Army, much to mom's chagrin. We were involved in Afghanistan, and I did a tour as a mortar track crewman providing artillery support from bases near Kandahar. I was wounded there, and had to be shipped back. It was in Landstuhl, Germany that I had my first seizure, caused by brain damage from my injury. I was given a medical discharge and went back to Iowa. They offered me a job at a local base, but I knew I could get better money working at a factory so I declined.

I had never had a place of my own, since I'd been in the military since I was 18. I moved back in with mom and got a job at a machine shop making tractor and combine parts. I also got back involved with my second love (mom was my first, of course), playing college baseball. I was offered a place on a semipro team, but the money was better at the machine shop so I declined.

Mom and I had arrived at a position we were both comfortable with: because of the money I was bringing in, she could stay at home minding the house while I worked. She did our washing, cooking, and bills, while I worked. I'd always give her a hug on the way out the door.

Then one night (I worked second shift because the money was better), I was heading out the door, she handed my lunch box...and I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It wasn't some debased porno kiss, it felt natural. From then on after that, we would kiss when we felt like it, and she always kissed me goodbye on the way to work.

Then one night, I was just having a real shit time: I was a senior machinist in a lathe cell, and there seemed to be no end to the trouble. A ten hour day turned into twelve: parts weren't staying on spec, a newbie crashed a machine, I was practically wading in engine oil trying to get it back working again. My mom and I were texting back and forth through all of it, like we always do.

I got off work and came home...it was maybe two in the morning. I tried to sneak in, knowing mom would probably be asleep. But she wasn't: she was in the kitchen, having made me a snack. I remember that I tried walking in and she told me to take off my boots so I wouldn't track oil and grease on the floor. I ate, and she grabbed me a beer and massaged my shoulders while I vented about my day. No matter how much I tried to relax, I couldn't: I wasn't tired, I was keyed up and running on adrenaline.

I was almost crying, I was so mad. She stood me up and led me upstairs to the bathroom, and ran a shower for me. I took off my work shirt and she took off my jeans and boxers, and she helped me in. I just stood there under the spray, trying to decompress. Then I felt and smelled a bar of my Irish Spring soap on my back: mom had disrobed and gotten in with me. She soaped me up, and for the first time she touched me down there. It wasn't some Road To Damascus epiphany, it was just a natural evolution of our relationship with each other. We looked in each other's eyes, and my mom says that I was gently pushing myself into her hand and getting hard.

She finished cleaning me, turned off the shower, and led me to her (now our) bedroom. We made love until morning, went out for breakfast, and it was like a weight had been lifted: we didn't have that worry of whether we could or couldn't behave as we wanted to.

I tried staying in my old room, but it didn't work: it's hard to concretely say when I moved into her (now our) room...it was just that more and more of my stuff was in there and I eventually never left.

Since then, we've been by each other's side. Our relationship is definitely mother/son, without the limits society has placed on physical affection. If we're both watching TV and the mood strikes me, I'll pick her up and set her on my cock. (I should probably explain: I'm 5 foot seven, she's 5 foot 1) She likes pleasuring me after work, and we trade my cum back and forth until it's mostly spit, then we both swallow.

We're trying for a baby before her biological clock signals closing time for her womb, and having lots of fun doing it.

We love each other to the end of the world, and would do anything to make the other happy. If society could let us get married, we would.

Sorry this went on so long. Hopefully it'll be something that helps. If you have any questions, just ask.