Opposite Day

Opposite Day

Peter Liv glanced up from his tablet, as Leyla placed his coffee down on the napkin in front of him. Her cleavage seemed to get his attention.

"Jesus Leyla, don't you think you should put on some clothes before Adrian gets up?"

Leyla blushed, her light-cobalt-blue eyes darting to the clock. Her son would be down for breakfast in ten minutes.

How had she not changed yet? Leyla had the distinct memory of going to her closet and picking out a shirt and jeans from the hangers, but she must have gotten distracted. Yes, like forgetting one's keys or misplacing a phone, now that she was 40, she might as well get used to things slipping her mind. The idea of Adrian catching her in the flimsy, white chemise did alarm her, however. Not just because it was embarrassing, but because Leyla knew a secret that would rock most families to the core.

Her son was an amazing boy. He was a well-behaved, polite, straight-A, 18-year-old student, who loved reading and video games; despite not having very many real-life friends to play them with. Then, almost overnight, the teen sprouted five inches, became moody, brooding, and started spending a lot more time in the bathroom.

Being a late bloomer wasn't all bad for Adrian. He tried out for the wrestling team and quickly got promoted to varsity; he ditched his childish wardrobe in favor of more adult, stylish apparel; and he also began attending the school events he used to avoid, like Homecoming and the Winter Formal. That said, Leyla had made some disturbing realizations. Where most kids who reached adulthood had outgrown some of the worst urges of adolescence, her son's raging hormones seemed to rule over him. He could no longer be trusted around her laundry. She had lost four pairs of panties and two of her favorite lace 32B bras in the last few months. At first, she assumed his overactive imagination and libido were using her things to fantasize about other girls in a healthy manner. One day she borrowed his computer, however, and saw the history was filled with incest erotic porn and literature.

She convinced herself that though it was concerning, many teens probably enjoyed the fantasy of taboo without having any actual attraction to their relatives. Leyla had to stop making excuses for her son since that night after getting home from dinner with her husband. Still damp from a shower, she slipped into a silk kimono and strayed from her room to the kitchen for a glass of water. Passing the living room, she spotted Adrian staring at her chest like he had X-ray vision. The look in his eye made her feel uncomfortable.

"Adrian?" she asked nervously. "What are you doing looking at me like that?"

His face turned red, then he stammered something incoherently and rushed to his room. She never brought it up again, though she made a conscious effort to keep her attire conservative and 'Mom-ified' whenever Adrian was present.

Even though he had developed an unhealthy crush on her, he was still her son, and she would always love him. All she needed to do was wait for the phase to pass. She rationalized keeping the truth away from his father because she worried that Peter might not be as understanding. Peter was the type of man that acted as if he had never been a teenager. He worked tirelessly, running multiple branches of a debt collection agency, traveled often, and rarely took time off work. When they did have sex, it was usually hurried and unfulfilling, but despite the lack of intimacy, Leyla was a faithful wife and was quick to excuse her husband's faults, just like her son's.

As if on cue, Peter's phone buzzed loudly on the table.

"That's work, I have to run." Peter popped up and kissed Leyla goodbye.

"But your eggs are almost ready." Leyla tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Peter was too preoccupied by the text to console his wife. He was already marching toward the garage when Leyla heard another pair of clopping feet coming down the steps of the carpeted staircase. Adrian ambled in a moment later. His hair was disheveled and there were dark circles under his eyes. He slouched down in the seat across from where Peter's coffee still sat, untouched.

"You okay?" Leyla asked gently. He had been out late last night, and she was guessing he was hungover.

Adrian nodded glumly, rubbing at his temples. "I'm fine."

Leyla decided not to push the issue further and pulled the omelet pan off the burner. She set it aside and poured a glass of orange juice for her son.

"Here ya go," she announced, turning around with a plate of eggs and a pearly white smile like some vintage 50s housewife. The words died in her throat as Adrian looked up from his hands and locked gazes with his mother's scantily clad breasts. For a split second, Leyla felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as Adrian stared unabashedly at her tits.

"Oh, uhm, thanks Mom," Adrian mumbled, returning his gaze to his food.

Leyla felt her cheeks go crimson. How in God's name had she forgotten about her clothing, or really, lack thereof, again? Was she really this absentminded?

"Sit up and eat this. You need to stay hydrated today," she insisted, placing the plate and glass in front of Adrian. She needed to go change, but her feet suddenly felt like they were set in stone.

Adrian took a fork and began scarfing the omelet down. Leyla urged her body to exit the kitchen, but her bare feet remained planted on the porcelain tile. If that wasn't enough, she felt her hand, as if possessed by a spirit, move to her neck, and begin teasing a loose curl of her wavy auburn hair.

'This is crazy!' Leyla tried desperately to shake free of whatever spell had overtaken her. It didn't help that Adrian kept casting glances to her exposed cleavage with the subtlety of a hungry lion.

"Mom. Why are you dressed like that?" The athletic teenager asked, after swallowing another mouthful of breakfast.

"Uhm, oh gosh. Adr... uhhh..." Leyla stuttered, trying to find the right words to explain why she was wearing nothing but a thin cotton chemise. Something was very off. She couldn't move freely; she couldn't speak. Was she having a stroke? Leyla desperately wanted her son to stop gawking at her like she was a stripper.

"Oh, this little thing. You like it? I wore it for you."

If Leyla had control of her body, her eyes would have bulged out of their sockets in shocked mortification. Had her ears deceived her? Had that really come out of her mouth?

Adrian dropped his fork and was now staring at her intently.

'Nonononono.' Leyla had to get away, but the next thing she knew, she was standing behind Adrian with her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, pressing her face into his long, thick, tawny brown locks. The smell of his citrus shampoo wafted through her nostrils causing her to swoon slightly. Her heart raced wildly, and her skin tingled with excitement. What was happening to her?! She could feel her thinly veiled breasts squishing against her son.

"Mom?" Adrian exclaimed in surprise. When Leyla didn't let go, he tried pulling from her embrace.

"MOM!?" Adrian repeated louder, his voice cracking slightly. This was definitely not normal behavior for her. He bristled, feeling his mother's warm breath against his neck.

'Let GO!!' Leyla shouted inside her own skull. She was struggling in vain to regain control of her limbs, but it only seemed to make her squeeze her son tighter. 'No no NO!' She had to leave the kitchen immediately, call her husband, go to the emergency room, but not even her eyes would obey her commands. She wished desperately that Peter had not left early.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she felt her arms slacken as she leaned forward and whispered into Adrian's ear, "Your father is gone."

The words reverberated throughout Leyla's mind and with them a familiar burning sensation erupted between her legs. 'Oh god. No!' She could see the outline of her son's cock growing more defined as the rigid tube swelled in his drawstring shorts. She couldn't look away. Her nipples hardened like two fresh cherries as she realized just how destructive this was to the boundaries that she had worked diligently on establishing with her only child. After trying to reestablish herself as his caring mother, and not a sexual entity, here she was, practically molesting her own son.

'Adrian this isn't me! I need help! I'm not doing this! Please, baby, call your father. I'm not in control!' Leyla's mind reeled.

"Mom, are you sure you're feeling all right?" Adrian fidgeted in his seat trying to hide his erection.

'Oh gosh. NO, sweetie! Mom is NOT all right! You need to drive me to the hospital!'

Leyla's fingernails skimmed the back of Adrian's neck as she strolled in front of her son. Placing a hand above her waist, she posed, tossing back her luscious auburn locks, and displaying her bedroom eyes. Adrian's own light-brown eyes were fully dilated as he took in his mother's tall hourglass figure. At 5'8", he gazed up from her long, toned legs that seemed to shimmer and reflect the sunlight, up her thighs to the hem of her scandalously thin nightdress, her ample bosom, past her elegant neck, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones.

"Do I not look all right?" Leyla questioned coyly. Her fingers slid along the sides of her hips, and she squinted in a playful manner.

Adrian swallowed hard before answering. "No... you look amazing."

'Adrian Maxwell Liv, that's not me!' Leyla was so irritated she wanted to throw herself forward, grab her son's muscled biceps, and shake him silly. Instead, her feet moved a couple paces back on the cool tile.

The 18-year-old had a stupid grin plastered over his face; he had clearly noticed his mom's tiny round nipples poking out of the white cotton chemise. Amazingly, his attention managed to get pulled away by something behind Leyla.

"Mom, the stove!" Adrian yelled.

Leyla swerved in her spot and grabbed the knob of the still-burning gas stovetop. Again, with the absentmindedness! She began rotating the dial to the left to turn off the flame, but her hand defied her by spinning the knob to the right. The fire ballooned into a full blue ring that simmered dangerously in the reflection of her eyes.

'Crap!' The more Leyla tried to turn the dial, the faster her hand spun in the wrong direction.

Mentally exhausted, she did the last thing she could think of and reversed course, twisting the dial to the right. As if by magic, her hand also changed course and suddenly began turning down the flame. What the hell? She watched the blue vanish.

Leyla was stuck again, unable to move.

'Turn around,' she ordered her body. Nothing. She concentrated and tried again.

'Continue to face the stove.' Jerking, almost violently, she spun back around only to find Adrian standing right behind her.

'Jesus!' On any other day, Leyla would have jumped back out of reflex, but today she flew forward and embraced Adrian in a forceful hug.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked timidly as his hands settled around the small of her back. She could feel his fingers rubbing her spine as her chin settled over his shoulder.

'Don't get any ideas, Adrian,' Leyla thought.

"Ooooouu, I love the way you make me feel," Leyla said brightly.

'NO!!!' Her mind screamed. 'I need to get out of here before I say something stupid.' She wriggled in his arms and rubbed her cheek to his, feeling the light stubble of his peach fuzz beard.

"Oh, honey..." She moaned in his ear. Leyla sensed what was coming, she could feel her son's hard penis pressing against her thigh like a police baton. More disconcerting, she could feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she subtly ground her pelvis against him.

'Ok, ok, ok. I just need to stay focused and think the exact opposite of what I intend.'

Leyla hesitated before working up the courage to say, 'Adrian, I never want to talk to your father again, hold me close, I want to stay in your arms forever. I like wearing skimpy clothes for my son.'

She released him abruptly. "You know what? I need to call your father. We shouldn't be doing this. Especially with how I'm dressed."

Leyla was holding her breath in her mind. She felt herself turn to leave the kitchen. Before making it three steps though, Adrian quickly scooped her up in his arms once again.

'Nooooo!' Leyla shrieked inside her head.

As if granting permission to her alter-self, Leyla watched in slow-motion horror as her son's parted lips descended on hers. They met cautiously, almost brushing together, but the moistness of her lip balm acted as a light adhesive, causing his skin to cling to hers. Softly, slowly moving together, the experimental peck evolved into a full-blown kiss. Adrian's fingers nestled in her hair like a comb, pulling her face in, until their tongues found each other's taste buds.

This was wrong, so terribly wrong, yet somehow, she found herself kissing and caressing her teenage son's wet tongue. She moaned into his mouth, closing her eyes seductively, and pressing her body firmly against his. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such a strong, chiseled torso. Certainly not with Peter. Their tongues danced wildly, exploring each other's mouths. Leyla was becoming dangerously aroused, and Adrian was clearly more proficient than she would have expected. How many girls had he kissed before? The butterflies in her stomach had been replaced by a strong tingling in her nether region.

"BRRRRNNNNNGGGG! BRRRRRNNNGGGG!" The landline's ring cut through the sound of their passionate make-out session.

The noise jarred Leyla back to reality.

'I really love kissing my son.' Leyla thought, hating how close that came to the truth.

They broke apart like a pair of teenagers in heat. Leyla took in a deep breath, the warmth flooding in her cheeks.

"BRRRRNNNNNGGGG! BRRRRRNNNGGGG!" The landline repeated itself.

Though lightheaded, Leyla felt God was giving her a lifeline to save herself and her son from eternal damnation.

'Don't answer the phone!' she demanded. Her arm immediately darted out and grabbed the wireless receiver off its charging station.

"Hello?" Leyla expressed cheerfully.

"Leyla. Did I leave my charger on the counter?" Peter asked in a frustrated tone.

'Peter! Oh, thank goodn-' Leyla cut herself off.

"Fuck y-" alter-Leyla began.

"Sorry, what?" Her husband snapped.

Leyla could see the tablet charger sticking out of the outlet, but that was the last of her concerns. She needed her husband to come save her. But the distressed housewife was finding it difficult coming up with a way to put into words what she wanted in her current condition.

'Nothing is wrong! Don't come home! I hate you!' Leyla cried in her head.

"It was nothing. Come home. I love you," alter-Leyla spat out robotically.

"Ehh." He paused for a few seconds. The sound of a car horn and the clicking of his turning signal made it clear he was making the call from the road. "I don't have time to swing back for it, I'll just borrow Steve's."

'NO! I mean YES! Don't come home!' Leyla fumbled in her head.

"Yes, I mean no, come home."

Peter continued. "It's honestly not that big a problem, the thing's probably got enough power as it is. I just can't believe I forgot the... Well, it doesn't matter. I'm merging on the highway, honey. Talk later."

Leyla felt deflated. In an impulsive rebellion, she tried throwing the receiver across the room and sprinting out of the kitchen. She succeeded at inserting it back in its holder and nearly leaping into her son's arms.

"Mom, what about Dad?" Adrian stuttered, "Is he coming home?" His brown eyes widened as his mother purred seductively before reaching up and caressing the side of his face tenderly with her fingers. Her touch sent shivers coursing through Adrian's body. Even with his father, he had never seen her behave so sensually. A few years ago, he would have been troubled by the absurd display, but now all he could think about was devouring every inch of her beautiful body.

'I CAN'T!!' Leyla shrieked, confused. 'I CAN'T DO THIS!!' She was throwing herself a tantrum and it was just making things worse.

Before she knew it, they were kissing again, but no longer with the same tender and affectionate nature as before. The forbidden taboo of what was transpiring between them had morphed into a raw, ravenous lust that could only be satiated one way.

"You're beautiful, mom!" Adrian said as he came up for air.

Leyla hated how splendid the comment made her feel. She was already wet, but now she felt herself beaming with delight.

Adrian ogled her boobs. "None of the girls in school look like you. Your skin is so smooth and perfect," he uttered, tracing his pointer finger down her cleavage.

Leyla froze. She wanted to kiss him again. Kissing was all right, she concluded in her frenzied state, but anything more would be depraved.

"Um... Can I touch them?" Adrian requested.

Leyla was conflicted. She wanted to say no, but she needed to say yes. She needed to say yes... She needed to say...

Leyla moaned softly as the man she'd nurtured since he was a child reached out and caressed her boobs. Gently squeezing the ripe flesh through the thin cotton, she could tell he was eager to see her naked. She wondered when he first began to fantasize about her. Had he caught her changing one day without her knowledge? Had one of his friends turned him onto incestuous pornography? Or was it simply a particularly perverted yet resonant dream? What seed had been planted in her poor son's heart to have led him to find so much enjoyment in his mother's breasts? Leyla felt a shiver run through her body at that sensation alone; it sent signals straight into her pussy which began contracting involuntarily. The thirst was too much for her mind to handle. She found herself gazing at her son's handsome face, falling deep into his brown eyes, his perfectly tousled hair, strong jawline, and cute nose. How could her body have produced something so miraculous with Peter?

'Peter.' The pure blissful release of stress and anxiety evaporated as the guilt and shame of her debauchery came to roost. What was she doing? She had already lost control of her body but now her mind.

'Pull yourself together, Leyla,' she ordered.

Her knees went weak, and she nearly blacked out as a wave of pleasure crashed through her. She gasped, her hand sliding down past her belly button to rub her swollen, beckoning clit.

Adrian absorbed what was happening by letting go of her tits, and watching as she began to finger herself under her short nightdress.

'No, Adrian. Don't watch this!' Leyla's mind was too drunk on arousal to realize what she was really asking for.

"You like watching Mommy touch herself?" she hissed, sounding like a wanton slut.

Adrian nodded his head. His hand squeezed the fat tent in his shorts.

Leyla moaned loudly in response, biting at her lip as she pressed two fingers inside herself while rubbing her clit. Her eyes were closed tight, sweat beading on both sides of her forehead. The sight seared into Adrian's memory as he watched his virtuous mother masturbate in front of him.

The pale redhead leaned against the countertop, working her way up to climax. She was almost there when she opened her blue eyes and saw Adrian, with his boxers around his ankles, staring at her as he stroked his thick shaft. She stared at the angry pink mushroom head as it bobbed with each stroke of his hand.

Leyla couldn't stop her orgasm, but she might be able to preempt his if she ran to her room and locked the door.

'I need to stay. I need to stay. I need to stay. I need to stay!' Leyla bawled; heart thumping faster than it had in years.

Leyla staggered forward; one hand still glued to her crotch. The other reached toward her son and took his pulsing penis in her hand.

'What?' Leyla didn't understand.

"Come with Mommy," the woman cooed, leading him by the dick out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

Adrian obediently shuffled behind her. When they entered the master bedroom, she felt his cock twitch in her hand as his parents' king-size bed gave him ideas no son should have.

Leyla stroked the powerful young tool in her hand. She could almost feel its masculine energy drawing her near.

'I will suck my son's cock!' Leyla mandated. Even if that was her kink, the sheer girth of Adrian's phallus was too intimidating for her skinny throat.

"I want you to fuck me, Adrian. Fuck Mommy! Fuck me 'til I forget your father. Fuck my pussy 'til I cum all over your big, hard, cock."

Adrian didn't need to be told twice. He pulled off his t-shirt, showing off a six-pack so chiseled it could have been carved in stone by Michelangelo himself, and like a wild animal, pushed his mother backward, so she flounced on the bed, giggling. He had never been so turned on in his life.

As he crawled over her, penis dangling threateningly between his legs, Leyla pulled at her chemise and discarded it on the ground, finally freeing them both of their annoying clothes. She hugged her son, squashing her creamy mounds to his body and feeling his cock press between her thighs. She kissed his smooth chest, smelling his skin, then grabbed hold of his ass cheeks and squeezed.

Leyla did everything to stop them. 'Don't have sex! Don't fuck Adrian! Don't destroy our lives!' By the time she realized she was championing them onward, it was too late.

His massive member plunged into her tight cunt. Both mother and son had too much pent-up desire for foreplay, or the slow, meandering lovemaking Leyla was attuned to. Adrian fucked with vigor. He fucked her so fast it seemed like an even bigger out-of-body experience than it literally was. Leyla was in rapture and there was nothing she could do to subdue the constant jolts of exultation every thrust her son drove into her. Every time she tried scrunching her eyelids shut, they just opened wider, where she witnessed her only child hammering into her with all his strength. Her high pitch squeals caught in her throat, as she was pegged into the bed and her pussy grappled with the fantastic-sized tool ravaging her. She felt every inch of him inside her, spreading her wide open and splitting her more intensely than Peter ever had. The sensation brought tears to her eyes but also heightened her arousal to its natural peak. She shook her head, whipping her auburn hair against his pecs.

'Ughh, ughhh, yesss.' Leyla needed to cum. She was going to come, oh god she was going to-

Adrian impaled the 126lb gorgeous housewife, just as she wrapped her arms around his neck and mashed her full lips to his. Her orgasm rocked through her entire being. She shuddered and trembled uncontrollably. She felt compelled to share the feeling with her son, moaning into his mouth. Adrian kept thrusting, driving himself deeper inside her womb.

Suddenly, she felt the dominant pink tube inside her expand.

'Don't you dare!' Leyla ordered. Peter had had a vasectomy two years earlier when they decided they weren't going to have any more children. The 40-year-old still got her period though, and she had no doubt her son's swimmers were quite potent.

'STOP! STOP! OH GOD, STOP!!'

"We have to keep going! Don't you dare stop!" She felt herself brace around him tighter.

Adrian huffed and shook his head. His athletic form slowed, and he looked to be on his last legs.

"Mom, I'm about to cum."

'NO. I mean YES. Dear God! Pull out!'

"YES BABY! CUM INSIDE ME!"

'Please! I could get pregnant!" Leyla argued with whatever cruel force had cursed her.

"Breed me! Fuck a baby into me!"

Adrian went wide-eyed. Hearing his mother's startling admission was the last straw. Throwing caution to the wind he rattled off three quick thrusts and then-.

"AHHH!!!" He groaned, collapsing on top of his mother, inseminating her with what felt like his soul.

She held him close, kissing his cheek and whispering sweet words of affection.

"Thank you, baby. Thank you for this. I needed this."

Leyla could no longer tell what she wanted. The deed was done. Objectively, she felt sexier than she had in years. The post-coital euphoria cascaded over her like a picnic sun.

Her mind no longer screamed. A cloud of mushy emotions and discombobulated thoughts left her existentially disoriented. How could something that felt this right, be wrong? How had her humdrum life and faithful marriage been upended within one morning? Maybe she had been too harsh. Maybe her son was her true soulmate.

'Jesus Leyla, you sound insane,' Leyla chastised herself, all the while rubbing her son's glorious chest and wondering how long he needed to recharge.

**************************

Peter returned late that night, he had been held up by work, again. He went to sleep beside his passed-out wife. There was a sharply pungent, musky aroma in the room, but he dismissed it as his eyelids grew heavy. When Leyla awoke early the next morning, she snuck into the shower to bathe her son's saliva off her tits, and the dried juices off her legs. There was no telling how much teenage spunk her greedy pussy had consumed after five rounds of spirited sex with the youngster. From what little had oozed out, she was certain her boy had shot deep.

"It can never happen again," Leyla said into the mirror, as she wrapped her hair in a towel and applied some moisturizer around her eyes.

She studied herself for several seconds, admiring the resiliency of her tits, and only slightly swollen labia. She waited for any sign of whatever had possessed her yesterday to return. When it didn't, she let out a relieved sigh. It was nice having the function of her limbs back.

Adrian took the news that their brief affair was over in stride. Yes, he was clearly disappointed, but Leyla hoped, perhaps maybe, the experience hadn't been all bad. Now that they had connected on such an intimate level, he seemed to be more respectful around her. Over the course of several weeks, she still caught him leering at her from time to time, but their day-to-day conversations were much less awkward. He had matured to a point where he no longer seemed incapable of looking her in the eyes, and by the look of it, his study habits were improving too.

All in all, life returned to normal in the Liv house. Peter worked, Adrian went to school, and Leyla no longer had to worry about her son's inappropriate behavior. She had held his secret for so long, it wasn't hard to hold onto her own. It didn't matter that her heart skipped a beat when her son smiled at her. That she got wet fantasizing about him without a shirt on. It didn't matter that when she and Peter made love, she closed her eyes and imagined Adrian's face and Adrian's abs and Adrian's orgasm-inducing cock. It was a crush. A crush she couldn't shake, but one she'd cope with.

End

Big thanks to volunteer editors Eviant and kenjisato.