Gotta Love Them Cheerios

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Peter is close. He allows himself half a dozen more hard thrusts before whipping his erection out of Georgina and pumping it vigorously in his hand. He tenses, arches his back, hisses through clenched teeth and blows his wad, spattering sticky white semen across his Mom's sweat moist belly and splashing her heaving breasts. A second spurt pools in her navel and a third trickles from the end of his penis and dribbles over his clenched fist. He sags onto the bed beside Georgina breathing heavily.

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Georgina drew Peter's stick fingers to her mouth and lapped daintily at the white semen. This he decided he really liked.

"Now that's something Janey would never do." Peter observed.

"Spit, not swallow huh? Mmm." Georgina wiggled her tongue between his fingers after the last traces.

"Not even spit. She'd never have let me come in her mouth in the first place." Peter explained, somewhat wistfully. "I mean... Janey was gorgeous... Fuck! She was drop dead gorgeous but she had this whole 'nice girl' thing goin' on. Y'know? Nice girls don't..."

"And you asked this... homecoming queen to take it up the ass?" Georgina smiled as she tried to imagine how that conversation had gone.

"I was desperate. Your porn star routines had me so wound up..." Well, she already knew how wound up he'd been.

"So wound up you were fantasizing about Cheerios." Georgina noticed that they were actually having a proper post-coital conversation. It felt so normal to be in bed beside Peter, just as long as she didn't think about him as her little boy.

In response, Peter rolled away from her and reached down onto the floor for his pants. He rolled back clutching his wallet. "See." He showed Georgina the picture he carried everywhere. It was her ass, round as a full moon, with her anus centre frame and her smooth, hairless slit – shaving was something else she hadn't bothered with for the last five years – her hairless slit, moist and pink, squeezed between her thighs. There was no face in the picture but she recognised her backside when she saw it.

"-Cheerio."

"Pardon? I was miles away. Something about Cheerios?"

"I said see how your ass hole looks just like a Cheerio? I reckon it's about the same size too."

"I may never be able to eat that cereal again." Georgina had never noticed the resemblance but now it had been pointed out to her...

"I could go for some right now." He grinned. "Roll over."

"No. And this time no means no." she fended off his hand as it crept towards her hip. "Peter, anal sex is fun but it requires preparation."

"There must be some lube in the house somewhere. Olive oil will do."

"No it won't. And that's not what I meant by preparation...er... I haven't been to the toilet since this morning..."

"Oh." Peter cottoned on.

"And I should shower first – thoroughly. Really, I prefer to have an enema a few hours before, to be really clean. We have no lubricant, no antibacterial soap and no enema bag."

"We do have a shower though." Peter said, brightly. He was stirring the puddle of cold semen in the shallow depression of his Mom's navel.

"And we both need one." Georgina agreed.

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[Excerpt from Georgina's journal]

I must be mad!!!

I should have gone to Helen's straight away. I waited for Peter instead – to talk things through. Who was I kidding?

We made love. He's my son for Heaven's sake! What if someone finds out?

We made love: my son and I. So I'm only worried about getting caught? I guess, yes.

Peter is such a good lover. When he's inside me its very easy to forget I'm Mom. I haven't felt this tender for years – even when Greg was still here.

The bedroom, the shower, twice on the sofa while watching The Graduate – Peter kept calling me Mrs. Robinson J – and back in bed. Where does he get the energy?

Cheerios?

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Breakfast was a late affair the next morning. Peter sat naked in front of his cereal, munching on the first spoonful and watching Georgina, slightly more decorous in her bathrobe, making coffee. When she finally came to the table, he tugged out the bow of the sash so that her robe fell open. Georgina tried to ignore his behaviour by concentrating on pouring two cups of coffee from the pot. She didn't spill a drop – even when Peter started to comb through her pubic hair with his fingers.

"I know. I'm taking two classes today. I'll try and get the salon to fit me in for a wax after them." Georgina, in theory at least, taught aerobics at a local health club. The reality of her work was that she was currently more in demand to take the swim aerobics classes for the over 60's. It wasn't a bad gig, but she did miss what she thought of as real work.

"No you won't." Peter dismissed her suggestion, curling one tuft around his pinky.

"Why not, Bossy boots?" Georgina had always been smooth when she was sexually active. Letting her hair grow so much had been... Well, Greg's departure had put her right off men and she'd kinda stopped taking an interest in herself.

"Because you work there. Go in there like this" He tugged the curl he was toying with. "and ask for a bikini wax and they'll all want to know who the lucky guy is. Yes?"

"I suppose... Yes. I could always tell them there isn't one."

"And they won't believe you. They'll gossip, compare notes & try to trap you with trick questions. Anyway, I like it like this for now. I can see it bald anytime – on video." His finger slid through the undergrowth and along the length of her labia. "But you might wanna pick up some lubricant." He'd contented himself with pussy last night but what he really wanted – what he'd wanted from the start – was Georgina's ass.

Georgina moved out of reach and sat opposite him, not bothering to close her robe. Peter, true to his word, had spent most of the night sucking her tits so there seemed little point in covering up. She helped herself to cream and sugar and stirred her coffee. "And what are you going to do with your day?"

"The car needs waxing, even if you don't." He leered at her, rising a little in his seat to peer over her side of the table at the triangle of curls between her tightly closed thighs. "And afterwards, I'm gonna hit the beach again. It is still officially my vacation."

"Most students get summer jobs."

"Most students don't inherit a house, a car and loads of life insurance mid-term. Dad may have been slow paying alimony but he's finally picking up the tab for my education." He could see the temperature dropping on the other side of the table – and not in a good, nipple hardening way. "Mom, I know he hurt you a lot but he was my dad and, in the end, he's at least tried to do right by me." He reached for her hand, clasping her fingers, reassuringly. "And, but for him, you wouldn't have such a loving son."

Georgina squeezed his fingers. Peter was right. Her beef with Greg was just that – her beef. It was unfair to dump all that on her son.

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"Hi Son. How was your day?" Georgina called out as the front door opened. She listened to the sounds of his sandaled feet on the tiles as he came through to the kitchen.

"Fine. One thing about studying law is that I'm never short of something to- Mmm." He stopped short in the doorway to admire the view of his Mom in her work clothes. The thong backed leotard would have been delightfully obscene on its own but worn, as this one was, with cycling pants, it just served to accentuate the globes of a truly well toned bottom. Peter leant against the jamb and drank in the sight, contemplating how much fun it was going to be peeling off all that Lycra.

"Something to?" Georgina prompted.

"Oh yeah. Something to read. Sitting on the sand reading environmental law turns out to attract a particular kind of beach bunny. I had no idea so many cute girls cared about industrial pollution. I tried pointing out that their bikinis were made of entirely non-biodegradable petrochemicals and that Du-Pont was a major league offender according to the EPA and that, perhaps, going naked would be better for the beach if they wanted it to still be there for their grandchildren to play on – They weren't buyin' it." He grinned at the frivolous fiction.

"You're definitely your father's son." Georgina observed, but without rancour. "Don't I get a kiss?"

Peter closed the gap, pressing his crotch against her bottom, his chest against her back and his lips against her neck. His arms encircled her waist and squeezed her lovingly. Georgina tilted her head to accommodate his nuzzling but carried on preparing salad. Peter's hands slipped down to the taut crotch of her leotard and cupped the warm dome of her pubic bone: This got a better response. Georgina put down the knife and the lettuce and twisted round to present her mouth to his. The kiss that followed was full of passion and completely lacking in haste.

"Mmm." Georgina purred against his lips, just a fraction of an inch from her own. "Did you want dinner before you rape me again?"

"It can't be rape. You've bought your own lubricant." He'd been delighted to see the new bottle of lube on the hall table, ready to go upstairs. He buzzed her mouth again.

"It must be rape because no mother in her right mind would consent to..."

"Being ass fucked by her own son?"

"Yes."

"'Cept you are gonna consent so you must be outta your mind. But I'm even more outta mine – according to Freud."

"An Oedipus complex and an anal fixation?" Georgina had picked up quite a bit of pop-psychology from daytime TV.

"Yeah."

"Was that Yeah, you want dinner first? Or yeah, we're both crazy?"

"Yeah to everything." Peter let go of her. Dinner was a good idea. He took his usual seat at the table.

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Georgina had to agree with Peter's reasons for avoiding waxing. She would have had to field a lot of casually curious questions. However, with a lot of the afternoon to herself for once, she did pop down to the salon suite and talk one of her co-workers into sneaking her in for a colonic. For this, she only had to complain quietly about feeling really blocked up recently. Not even the most salacious gossipmonger would connect colonic irrigation with having a hot date. If they only knew!

She told Peter all this over chicken salad and a couple of glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon – Peter opted for beer. She felt the need for at least a little bit of alcohol to blame her woeful lack of inhibition on afterwards. Peter was characteristically coarse about it, promising to fill all that empty space she'd made available.

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"I got you a little gift today." Georgina was drying plates while Peter washed. She put down the towel and went out of the kitchen, returning with a small paper bag. Peter dried his hands and took it from her. "It's just a little something I thought you'd enjoy." Georgina added.

Peter took a small box from the bag. It was a carton of Polaroid film. He threw his Mom an enquiring glance.

"Your father's camera is still here. It's in a box in the garage... The Walmart box!" This last was shouted at Peter's retreating back as he sprinted out of the back door of the house and round the corner toward the aforementioned garage. Georgina smiled to herself, finished the dishes and went upstairs for a shower. She wanted to be as clean on the outside as she felt inside.

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After her shower, Georgina found Peter still searching the garage for the camera. She stood in the light of the open side door, letting her robe fall open, and waited to be noticed. After a few seconds she coughed to make damned sure she was noticed.

Peter looked around and stopped rummaging – damned near stopped breathing.

"The Walmart box." Georgina pointed to the relevant carton and went back into the house. Peter was less than a minute behind her, looking dusty and in need of a shower himself but clutching the camera triumphantly.

In the five minutes it took Peter to figure out how to load the old camera, Georgina had decided he needed a bath, not a shower, and had gone upstairs to draw him a tub. Her thinking was this: In the tub, she could wash him without getting all wet again herself and washing him would not only be a sexy start to their evening but fitted rather well with this whole Mother/Son theme that Peter evidently took so much excitement from. He'd joked about returning to the womb, a la Freud, spent hours last night sucking her nipples and wondering out loud where he might score some Prolactin to get her milk flowing again. He'd love being bathed just like when he was little. In the glare of her newly acquired self-honesty, Georgina didn't even try to deny that she'd get off on it too.

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[Excerpt from Georgina's Journal]

Ok. So it's perverse to sleep with my son. So?

I've loved him since before he was born. I thought I loved Greg but I didn't. All my feelings for Greg walked out the door with him, but Peter – I couldn't stop loving him, even when he raped me.

As wrong as what we're doing is, our love is so right.

So who am I trying to convince?

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Peter was soaking in the warm water while his Mom gently sponged his chest. He was hugely erect but she'd get to that all in good time.

"Mom."

"Yes Peter?"

"I... I'm sorry about... Yesterday morning. That was a bad thing to-"

"Hush now. Let's not talk about that."

"But it could happen again... If you refused me... I just gotta have you."

"I know." Her sponging had got as far as his erection. "I used to feel like that about a boy... That's how I got pregnant... It's called being in love."

Peter didn't respond, it being hard to maintain a decent conversation while the object of your desire is soaping your cock. He relaxed into it, nearly levitating out of the tub when her hand pushed down between his hairy thighs and sponged his ass too.

"Silly boy!" Georgina admonished. "Don't splash so." She continued until he was thoroughly clean. "Now out you get." She stood, holding up a bath towel to wrap him in and dry him. She found it surprisingly sensual to rub a glow into his skin. Such a handsome boy – but she was admittedly biased.

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"I thought perhaps you'd like a blowjob first?" Georgina asked as Peter dropped his towel on the bedroom floor and picked up the bottle of lubricant.

"What?... Oh, sure." Peter hadn't even thought about it, so focused was he on the imminent prospect of his Mom's ass.

"Well if you don't want one..."

"I do want one."

"Only, you don't sound very keen. It's just... I thought when you told me Janey wouldn't... Still, I suppose there have been other girls."

"Mom! Quit stalling, get on your knees and keep your fuckin' promise." He smiled as he got all assertive. Georgina smiled too and sank to her knees in front of him.

As first a hand and then her mouth closed around his cock, Peter lay back and closed his eyes. As fingers, nails, teeth, lips and a very active tongue worked in concert to elicit his first orgasm of the evening, he recalled that, yes indeed, there had been other girls. Some spat, some swallowed: on balance, the swallowers generally felt better. It's a matter of enthusiasm as much as technique. His Mom seemed to have both – in spades.

He had to stop reminiscing because the pleasant sensations around his crotch were getting seriously distracting. The trouble was that as soon as he focussed fully on the fact that his Mom was giving him head...

"Ooooh!.. Oh yeah!....Oh fuck!...FUCK YEAH!" He could feel his Mom's throat move as she swallowed spurt upon spurt of boiling semen. Then the world went dark for a moment. Peter blacked out.

He was only out for a few moments – just long enough for Georgina to move from the floor to the bed and lie beside him, cradling his head to her bosom: All in all, not a bad place to wake up after a really satisfying climax. He found that by moving his head left about two inches, he could draw one erect nipple into his mouth.

"I heard somewhere that Roman matrons used fellatio to get their baby boys to go to sleep. I didn't believe it 'til now, but it works." She smiled down at her son, a smile that said as much about her love for him as anything else she'd done recently.

"Now can I fuck you in the ass?" Peter released the nipple he'd been toying with.

"Tut! I'm sure we covered foreplay when we had all those awkward mother-son talks about the birds and bees? No? Well, since you're all limp now anyway, perhaps you'd return the favour first? Hmm?" Georgina lay back on the duvet and spread her long legs wide. Peter had to scrabble out from under one of them, finding himself on his knees with a gynaecologist's eye view of his Mom. Her pussy lips glistened with moisture already, nestling among the thick auburn curls. Below them, much more clearly visible, the dark knot of her anus drew his attention. Fuck! It really did look just like a...

"Ahem." Georgina grew impatient. Peter took the hint, teased the curls apart, drew the petals of his Mom's pussy wide and plunged his tongue into her. He probed as deeply as he could, enjoying the taste of her juices on every region of his tongue. Georgina moaned and kneaded her own breasts, brutally pinching her sensitive nipples as she writhed against Peter's face. He pressed his tongue flat against her spread labia and whiffled it rapidly from side to side, letting its rough texture stimulate as large an area as possible. Janey had loved that trick. So did his Mom, who gasped and moaned words of encouragement. Slowly, Peter's tongue meandered up to Georgina's clitoris, flicking over and around the swollen bud as lightly as possible. Here, more than anywhere else in sex, less is more. A few seconds brought Georgina within a hair's breadth of climax before Peter's attentions went south again, not stopping at her dripping hole but continuing down over her perineum until he could circle her ass in an ever decreasing spiral and ultimately probe the tiny puckered opening.

This took even Georgina by surprise. As much as Greg had adored her ass, he'd only ever tried to stick fingers and his cock in it. Peter's tongue felt so sensual, so insistent, as it pressed and wriggled against her sphincter. She was quite relaxed but still the muscle proved too strong a barrier. Peter gave up and returned his attention to her pussy and, most especially, her clit. This time he allowed Georgina to come, flagellating her clitoris with his tongue until she stopped twitching and writhing and slumped exhausted.

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"So much for the foreplay. I'm hard again." Peter sits beside Georgina with the lubricant in his hand. "Turn over." He helps his Mom roll over and lie face down, still catching her breath and dribbles the cold lubricant onto her butt so that it oozes down into the valley between her buttocks.

With two fingers, he massages the lube into his Mom's anus, gently pressing a fingertip into the declivity with each pass until it yields. As soon as his finger slips past the knot of her sphincter, Peter squirts more lube onto the surrounding area and works his ring finger – apt that, he thinks – works his ring finger in tight circles. His middle finger follows and, after a couple of minutes of two fingers, he chances a third, squeezing his index finger in alongside the others.

Peter is so entranced by the sight of his three fingers two knuckles deep in his Mom's ass that he takes much more time than is really necessary to make sure she's properly lubed up. He's fascinated by how what was normally a little puckered knot is now smooth, with a mother-of-pearl-like sheen to the skin.

Georgina hums contentedly. She enjoys anal sex: Not as much as straight sex, true, but she does enjoy it. This lubricating ritual is something else Peter never learned from Greg. He'd always preferred her to lube herself: Greg liked to watch her do all the preparation before sticking it in her. She decides that Peter's way is better, though she will put on a show for him later – so he can get some good pictures. She raises her hips and drags a couple of pillows under her pelvis, the better to present her ass.