Gotta Love Them Cheerios

Georgina worried about Peter. She couldn't help it: she was his mother. Mother's always worry about their kids. Peter was twenty but somehow the mother bit of her brain still thought of him as her little boy.

Georgina herself was only thirty-six. She'd got pregnant in high school – big mistake – married Greg Robinson, Peter's dad, straight after graduation, with an eight month belly and after fifteen years together, found herself abruptly single when Greg fucked off with some bimbo he'd been screwing on the side.

And yes, she was bitter. Hell hath no fury... ain't the half of it. When Greg was killed in a car accident six months ago, she refused to go to his funeral and absolutely refused to discuss him with Peter. She was glad he was dead. If she had a regret, it was that he hadn't suffered – she'd hoped he'd been trapped in a burning wreck, screaming his last but the coroner's report said that he'd been killed instantly. Dumb luck!

Things have a way of coming out after a death. Peter found himself a man of property, inheriting a surprisingly nice house. It surprised him for two reasons: He hadn't realized how well his father's business interests had been doing, and he hadn't realized that his father gave a shit about him. After five years of absolute silence, to discover that he'd left his only son everything was... Well, it was only the first of many shocks.

Peter had spent the whole of his last break from college going through his Dad's things and clearing out the house. He found several letters to his mother in his father's PC: They were full of contrition. He'd begged for them to try again. Peter wondered if his dad had ever posted the letters. Did Mom know how much Greg had wanted to come home?

Possibly the biggest surprise the house held was an old briefcase full of Polaroids and video tapes. Peter was stunned at how sexy his mother looked naked. He became a little obsessed with the images of his parents fucking and spent hours masturbating while watching the amateur video footage. When he went back to college, he took the private porn collection with him and digitised the lot onto his laptop.

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[Excerpt from Georgina's journal]

Peter's still shut up in his room all day: I wish I knew how to help him. I tried broaching the subject of Janey again last night. He just shrugged and went back to his room.

There was a brown bag in the trash this morning. I'm not proud of myself but I peeked. It looks like Peter's thrown out all the old girlie magazines from under his mattress. Of course, I can't ask about them: I officially don't know they've been under his bed for 6 years.

I do wish he'd talk to me. I guess I just have to give him time.

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Peter is sitting at the table in his boxer shorts, eating cereal when Georgina comes downstairs the next morning.

"Good morning Peter, You going to stay up long enough for me to wash your bedding today?"

"Morning Mom. Yeah. I'm gonna go to the beach." Sarcasm is wasted on kids.

Georgina is relieved to hear he's actually going to do something more than just mooching around the house all day. Maybe Peter is finally getting over his doldrums.

"Coffee?" She's pleasantly surprised to see that the coffee's already brewed. She picks up the jug and turns to the table.

"Thanks Mom." Peter is staring fixedly at the last Cheerio, floating in a little pool of milk in his spoon. As Georgina fills his cup, she notices that Peter's other hand is stroking a conspicuous erection through his shorts. She's so taken aback she spills coffee on the table.

"Peter!" Her voice is far too loud. Peter instantly lets go of his crotch.

"Sorry Mom. I guess I was daydreaming..."

"I thought we'd had all the birds and bees talks. Do we need to discuss boundaries?" Her tone is frostily matriarchal.

"I said sorry. It's just... This cheerio reminds me of something..."

"Thank God for that! I thought for a moment my son had a cereal fetish."

"It's not the cereal. It's the shape." Peter is acutely embarrassed and disinclined to discuss this.

"Donuts. It's donuts isn't it? Janey caught you in flagrante with a ring donut and-"

"Shut up Mom. Janey broke up with me because I wanted anal sex and she thinks I'm a pervert. I wasn't gonna tell you but since you won't stop asking me until I do... Now you know." As he unloads, the anger ebbs out of him.

Georgina goes around the table and hugs him. It's something mothers are good at. After a moment, Peter relaxes against her, his head conveniently at bosom height – always the best place to ride out an emotional storm. He continues, apparently changing the subject.

"I cleared out Dad's house. He'd kept all the photos he took of you."

Georgina tenses.

"I never told Janey about them. She'd really think I'm a pervert if she knew why I want anal sex."

Georgina lets go of him, stepping away slowly. She's appalled by what she's sure is coming.

"You have an unbelievably sexy ass hole. Just like a bran Cheerio..."

"No!" Georgina's hand shoots to her mouth and she flees the room. Peter listens to her quick feet on the stairs.

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Georgina, locked in her bedroom, cried for over an hour. The house was quiet. Perhaps Peter had gone out already. What was she going to do? She could go and stay with one of her friends – give Peter time to pack his things and get out. She hated herself for thinking it but she really didn't think she could face him, knowing what she now knew. It was cowardly but what were her options?

She sat down at her dressing table and wrote him a note.

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Dear Peter,

I'm staying with Helen for a few days. Please don't be here when I get back.

I'll always love you, Son, but I can't have you here under the circumstances.

You have a house of your own anyway and some issues you really need to work out. Please, for both our sakes, seek some help.

Love always.

Mom.

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Georgina packs enough clothes for a week and, listening carefully to make sure the house is empty, unlocks her bedroom door and goes for a shower.

The warm water cascading over her body, relaxing her, only makes her realize how tense she is. Those photos Greg took – and the videos: Peter has surely seen them too – had been during the good years. She casts her mind back there-then. Greg had been such a good lover. Of course, at the time she hadn't realized how much practice he was getting elsewhere. No. Forget that bastard. He's even managing to screw your life up from beyond the grave.

Those photo sessions had been fun though. Georgina's hand has somehow found it's way between her thighs. Recollections of her private porn star days have made her wet – an altogether different wetness from that of the shower. She knows how prominent her ass was in those pictures. Greg had adored fucking it and taking before and after – and frequently during – photos. For the first time in over five years, her free hand finds its way between her buttocks and starts soaping her anus.

She works three fingers into her ass, relishing the long forgotten pleasure of being stretched and filled. Fast fingers frenetically bother her clit and periodically plunge into her dripping vagina for more lubricant. The shower is a torrent over her head and down her back, deafening her to the click of the latch, the soft tread of bare feet and the whispered shh of the cubicle door.

"PETER!" Georgina screams as she realizes he's behind her in the cubicle. Her fingers pull free of her anus with an audible plop. "Get out! Get out of here now!"

Peter doesn't answer. She feels him move closer, his breath on the back of her neck as he reaches around her for the gel dispenser, helps himself to a good squeeze of liquid soap and slaps it roughly between Georgina's cheeks.

"No! Get out!... Don't touch me. Get out!" She screams in vain as Peter, silent in the face of her protests presses his hard glans to her anus and pushes, breaching the resistant sphincter and impaling his mom's ass.

Every muscle in Georgina's body tenses in defiance: Every muscle except one. That Judas sphincter yields to her son's cock too easily. She still protests, but where she had screamed she only whispers as Peter pounds her ass with all the vigour of youth. Her rectum pulses around his cock involuntarily. In spite of herself, her body is reacting to the ravishing it's getting.

Peter is in ecstasy. He's dreamt of this. He's wanked several times a day for months just fantasizing about Mom's ass. He's watched hours of video of his father's cock pistoning in and out just like his is now. In all that, he's never really believed he'll get a crack at it and he's never – not in his wildest fantasies – ever realized just how good it would feel. He pumps in and out, ignoring his Mom's pleas for him to stop, delighting in the throbbing tightness and the heat of her body.

Georgina's mind is in turmoil, she tries to shut out the sensation of her son's cock stretching her rectum. She doesn't want her body to respond the way it is. She's close to climaxing and hates her body for betraying her. She's being raped and she's going to come. No! This can't be happening. "Nooooo!" As her orgasm defies her, she cries out one final time, begging him to stop, begging her body to stop reacting, fighting the glorious warm waves of climactic release: fighting but losing the fight. Peter thrusts once more, feeling his cock seized by Georgina's contracting abdomen and his balls contract as he comes, draining his sack deep inside her ass.

Without a word, Peter washes his softening cock under the shower and leaves the bathroom.

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Georgina didn't turn around. She sunk to her knees in the corner of the shower with her face still pressed to the tiles and cried soundlessly while the hot water washed away the traces of their sins. When the water ran cold, she finally stirred herself and towelled off.

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"Fuck!" thought Peter, lying on the hot sand, recalling the morning's events. "Fuck!" This time he actually said it out loud. It was a good job the beach was pretty empty – no one heard him.

He was torn between the excitement of fulfilling so many of his fantasies and guilt at how much he'd clearly upset his Mom. Fuck! And to think they used to call being queer 'the love that dare not speak its name'. As a law student, he not only knew what he'd done was illegal in every state: he knew exactly which laws he'd broken and how long he was likely to be locked up for if his Mom pressed charges. Incestuous, non-consenting sodomy. Fuck! He was batting three for three, and the punishment would fit the crime too – if those stories of what happens to pretty boys in jail were to be believed.

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There are no flashing lights outside as he approaches the house. Does that mean Mom hasn't called the cops? Or have they been and gone? Peter's stomach somersaults as he pulls up the drive and gets out of the car. Opening the front door, he half expects to find detectives sitting in the family room, drinking coffee. There aren't. The house appears empty. His relief is palpable but certainly not total. Where's Mom?

He finds her, still foetal on her bed, in her robe. Kneeling beside her, he notes how tears have dried on her cheeks. She's cried a lot. "Mom? We gotta talk."

Her eyes don't open. She doesn't want to look at him. "Oh Peter! Do you know what you've done?" Her voice is heavy with accusatory harmonics.

"I fucked you in the ass. That's-"

"YOU RAPED ME!" Her eyes fly open and she screams at him, rising from the bed to pound at his chest with her fists. Peter catches her wrists. "You raped me!" she mumbles and collapses again, held up now only by her son's grip on her wrists. "You raped me." This: just a whisper. Peter draws her close, holding her. Georgina buries her head against his shoulder and starts sobbing again. She mumbles something muffled by his armpit. He guesses she's just repeating herself again.

"It wasn't rape... It may have been wrong, but it wasn't rape."

Georgina pulls her head away from his shoulder and looks at her son in open-mouthed disbelief.

"Oh. You said 'no' a lot but you didn't react 'no'. You were finger fucking your own ass hole so don't pretend you didn't want a hard cock up there instead. I've seen your videos remember? I know how hot you get with a cock in your ass. Fuck! You came first too... It wasn't rape." His rationalization grinds to an unsteady halt.

Georgina's mouth moves but she says nothing. Peter stumbles on.

"Tell me you faked it. Tell me you didn't come because of me? I know I'm bigger than Dad was. Tell me it didn't feel better than your fingers."

Georgina can't deny it. She wants to, but can't. Peter's right: She'd come in spite of herself. He's right about size too. He's much bigger than Greg and, thinking that through, she's surprised her ass had taken all that without hurting more. But it was all so wrong. "But-"

"But it's wrong to have sex with your kids?" Peter pre-empts her objection. "Why? You're my Mom and I love you and I'm your son and you love me. All that's changed is that I can love you in a whole different way – love you even more."

"No... Never again." She realizes Peter is making a case for more of the same.

"Mom, you sound like the Israeli government. Why is incest wrong? Because the Bible has a downer on it? Remember what happened to Sodom? You've been taking it up the ass for years. Because of defective babies? Ok. I'll stipulate that's a good reason for not marrying cousins – Who'd want a baby boy with no chin and a flair for banjo playing? - but there are lots of ways to avoid pregnancy: Condoms, pills and – my personal choice – anal sex."

"Peter. We can't...Can't be lovers. You should go... We can pretend this never happened – never mention it again. You can destroy all the pictures and-"

"No. Neither of us is going anywhere." Peter puts his hand on his Mom's hip, feeling her tense at his touch. "Relax. Its just sex: Sex between two people who know that they are loved. I've been thinking about you all day. Wanna see how hard you make me?" Peter springs to his feet, peeling off his shorts. His cock is standing to attention. He waves it at his Mom. "Now I'm betting you've been thinking about this too." He pounces at her, rolling her onto her back and fumbling for the sash of the robe.

"Peter! No!" Georgina struggles to get from under him but Peter is too strong.

"Peter yes." He amends, getting a hand between her clamped thighs. "You're wet for me and you know that I'm not gonna take no for an answer. If you want to pretend to be raped again, that's ok by me. Maybe that's your fantasy."

"Peter, please..."

"That's better." He forces a knee between hers, spreading her legs a fraction.

"No, please."

"Mom." Peter pauses in his efforts to part her legs but doesn't release her. "I saw your note, over there." He nods at the dresser. "You haven't gone to Helen's. Why? Your bag's packed. You must have known I'd come back and you waited, basically naked... for me."

"No... I...I was about to leave." It sounds a pretty feeble protest.

"You didn't lock your door. You didn't get dressed. You heard me come home and you just lay here."

"I – I was upset. You ra-"

"No I didn't. You lay here waiting because even if you hate the idea, you really want me to fuck you. You're ashamed to admit it – I understand, I was mortified the first time I realized I'd jerked off over pics of you. Just give in and enjoy it. You might as well – you're gonna get fucked anyway." He tries to kiss her but she dodges his lips.

"Peter, no! If you do love me, you won't do this." Georgina falls back on a classic mother's bargaining ploy.

Peter puts renewed effort into parting her legs and getting himself comfortably between them. He takes a chance on releasing one of her arms so he can use his hand to guide his penis into her. She doesn't try to attack him, so he eases himself fully into her pussy until his balls rest on her ass.

"I do love you, Mom. That's why I'm freeing you from the decision. You're gonna get what you want, not what's right." He starts to pump his hips, sliding in and out of the hot, moist sheath of her vagina, feeling her muscles respond. Again her body's saying yes while her mouth says no.

"Oh that feels good." He groans. "It's good to be back!"

Georgina's startled. What the hell does that mean? Peter chuckles.

"I didn't really get to appreciate this twenty years ago. I was just passing through but, you know, this time I think I'll stay awhile." He succeeds in kissing her this time, forcing his tongue past her lips and getting her first positive reaction to his advances – her tongue entwines with his. He slows his hips right down, going for the gentle pace and long strokes he knows he can maintain for hours. Georgina continues to respond positively and Peter releases his grip on her other hand, freeing himself to support his weight over her and really concentrate on getting in deep.

Georgina stops thinking about her relationship to the man making love to her. After five years in the wilderness, the cock buried hilt deep in her pussy feels... wonderful. Slowly the banked fires inside her are stirred into life by the iron hard rod of Peter's flesh. She works her tongue around his with increasing fervour as the first signs of her approaching climax start to register in her brain. Still Peter fucks her really slowly, seeming to want to take all night to get her there. Impatient for release, her hips gyrate against his, squeezing just a bit more sensation – just a fraction more pleasure – from each stroke. Her vaginal muscles clench and unclench spasmodically, like a milkmaid's hand. Peter adjusts his balance without breaking their rhythm, freeing a hand to knead at his Mom's breast, squeezing the flesh until she gasps, feeling the nipple hard and hot against his palm. He pinches it, rolling the rubbery teat between thumb and finger, stretching it out from her soft breast, eliciting another gasp that breaks the hermetic seal of their lips.

"I'm going to suck on these later...all night... That's something else I've missed."

"Oh Peter." Georgina sighs, gluing her mouth back onto his. Her arms draw him down onto her, urging his full weight onto her rib cage. She yearns for as much skin contact as possible. Her nails rake his back spurring him into a higher gear. Her legs spread even further as she hooks her ankles together across the small of his back and heaves her pelvis against his, urging him on.

Her first orgasm hits about 6 on the Richter scale, sending shockwaves through her nervous system and a primal scream of absolute lust bursting from her lips.

"Ohhhhhh YESSSSSSssssssss" Her cry fades to a sibilant hiss before Peter's kiss cuts it off. A momentary flood of hot fluid drenches his cock.

He throttles back, not wanting to come just yet. Each thrust sends aftershocks through her quivering body. He refuses to let her come back down. When it seems there is no more to be had from her first climax, Peter suddenly puts on a burst of speed, pounding into her puffy, wet lips from a variety of angles, sending his bell end sliding along first one wall of Georgina's pussy, then the other, thrusting up against the back of her mons veneris, thrusting down against her pelvic floor, slamming his glans painfully against her cervix. He releases his grip on her tit and thrusts his hand at their joined crotches, knuckling her hooded clit hard.

Georgina squeals in pain that is instantly washed away as a tsunami crashes over her. Her second climax leaves her gasping for breath but the relentless hammering of Peter's cock into her now quite tender pussy goes on.