My Darkest Forbidden Urge

I can't stop thinking about it; it's this twisted urge that claws at me every night, leaving me drenched in sweat and shame. My own mother, the one who brought me into this world, has become the center of my most forbidden fantasies. Her body, still so alluring and ripe, haunts my dreams, and I ache to take her in ways that are raw, violent, and utterly wrong. I imagine pinning her down, feeling her warmth against me, forcing my way into that sacred place that once gave me life. It's not about love or tenderness; it's pure, animalistic hunger, a fire that burns hot and unyielding in my gut. Every time I try to push it away, it comes back stronger, making my heart race and my body throb with need. I know it's sick, that it crosses every line of consent and morality, but that only makes it more intoxicating. I've never acted on it, but the thought alone sends shivers through me, a mix of terror and ecstasy that I can't escape. Sometimes I hate myself for it, for how it consumes my thoughts, turning everyday moments into fuel for this depraved obsession. I picture her eyes widening in surprise, her protests turning to something else, and it drives me wild. It's like a poison in my veins, this desire to dominate and claim what's taboo, and I'm not sure I ever want the antidote. God, the guilt eats at me, but the thrill? It's undeniable, a secret thrill that no one can take away.