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 xxx 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.
----------------------------
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.
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.
--------------------------------
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..
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