Title: Like His Uncle
Keywords: mF, mf, teen, mat, inc, cheat, nc, mdom, mom, son, brother, sister
Author: Caesar
Summary: Her brother having raped her as a teenager, turning her into his sex toy, so to does her son.



There was a young German named Ringer
Who was screwing an opera singer.
        Said he with a grin,
        "Well, I've sure got it in!"
Said she, "You mean that ain't your finger?"



Like His Uncle

By Caesar, copyright 2006

Edited by Mikhail (circa 2006), Revision 1.1

$Revision: 1.3 $ $Date: 2007-12-02 07:47:45 $

Janet took an apple from the bowl and took a bite before mumbling,
"Oh, Jake said something about wanting to see you up in his room mom."
I looked up from the sudsy water in the sink - my only son wanted to
see me upstairs?  Alarm bells should be going off right?  But this was
just another family weeknight - my husband was in the next room
watching the news, my eldest daughter Janet seemed busy with her
homework as usual, my youngest daughter Jenny was upstairs probably on
the phone with one of her friends.  The supper dishes were nearly
complete and put away, only a few pots left.  Normal.

But why did I have this nervous twitch deep in my stomach?

Let me tell you a little about Jake before I go on.  He is the
spitting image of his uncle George, my brother, when he was seventeen.
At that age I was in love with my brother.  I don't mean I loved him
as a brother, but as the strongest male influence in my life and in
the physical sense.

I was two years younger than George and it started when I was eleven.
An awkward time; Just starting puberty and even my own brother and
father were starting to look at me differently.  George just came to
my room late one night, woke me up, and as he was pushing me to the
floor he took out his penis and grunted, "open your mouth", and
proceeded to use me until he filled my mouth with his salty
seed. After he finished, I was left there, laying on the floor
sobbing, semen running from my lips.

Yes, my brother George raped me, repeatedly, almost nightly I learned
quickly not to disappoint him. The very next night, he came in and
pushed me to the floor yet again. I knew what was about to happen and
fought him viciously. George just sat down on the edge of my bed and
threw me over his lap, yanking down my pyjama bottoms and exposing my
bare posterior and proceeded to spank me again and again until I was
begging and pleading for him to stop. When it was over and he dumped
me back on the floor between his legs, I never denied him, doing my
best to not choke on his hard penis.

Oral sex became full blown intercourse in only a few short months.  I
became his secret sexual toy and he used me at least once per day. I
denied him nothing.

Why didn't I tell my parents, a teacher, someone?  Well, back then sex
wasn't discussed and the public knowledge that my brother was 'doing
it with me' was just too humiliating to tell a teacher or our family
priest.  What about my parents then?  Well, after George started to
come to my room at night, I realized what those looks he used to give
me were about - lust.  My father was giving me those same mile-long
gazes, often glaring at my teenage half-grown breasts, and it
terrified me, I did not want to have two guys forcing me against my
will. To this day, I am convinced that my mother knew what George had
done to me and stood by doing nothing. The evidence was just too
damning, the coincidences for being caught together to obvious.
George never thought twice about having sex with me when mom was in
the house - and not once did she interrupt, no matter how loud we
were. That always disturbed me more than father for some reason that I
dared not delve too deeply into.  As time went on, I came to enjoy our
sexual encounters, sucking and fucking, how, and what to do to
pleasure him. I knew every millimetre of that penis and can still see
it when I close my eyes, now, decades later. I was in love; though,
looking back, it was obviously one way.

George did a damn fool thing and went to the United States to join the
Marines and consequently got himself killed in some numerically named
hill in Vietnam. I was in mourning for nearly eighteen months.

To this day, I have told no one, not even my husband, this secret.

Then there was Jake, my eldest child and the spitting image of his
long dead uncle. My mother commented on the physical similarities when
Jake was still a toddler, saying George looked exactly like him at the
same age. I unsuccessfully tried to ignore her words but they clenched
my heart in a cold fist and would not let go.

The changes started as Jake entered puberty consequently he started to
act different, not so alike the boy that came to my room to rape my
mouth so long ago. It was awkward around him, I did whatever I could
do to avoid being alone with the teenager. I became a distant parent,
doing my duty and nothing else.

When Jake was fifteen, I started to notice how my eldest daughter
Janet, fourteen at the time, was looking at him with something
bordering on idol worship. Had I looked at George in that way later in
our relationship? Had Jake been at his sister Janet turning her into
some sexual toy to be used at his whim?

I did not delve too deep, scared of what I may find, but the thought
continued to terrify me; even to this day.

What would I do if it were true?

Janet took another bite of her apple and strode into the adjoining
room where her father sat watching the news.

I was being silly right?  Jake probably just had a paper from school
that had to be signed or something. I wiped my hands dry on the dish
towel and strode up the stairs to the door of my son's room.

Just as I raised my hand to knock another wave of fear rushed through
my body and I had to tell myself how stupid I was, I was Jake's mother
for god sake.

"Come in mother." Had I knocked, I couldn't remember?

Opening the door I stepped in looking around his messy room, "Hi
honey, Janet said you wanted to see me." I put on my pleasant
Motherly-face.  Jake stood up and strode up to the door, his
determined advance causing a flutter of nausea to hit me. I did not
like being alone with him like this and with him so close just caused
me to tense up.

He closed the door and before I could utter a word, he stepped up
directly before me. Fear clenched at my heart - he looked so like his
uncle George, intense gray eyes, strong large features, even the full
red lips.

What was going on?

Surprising me, he shoved me back against the closed door, banging my
head so violently that I saw stars. Then he was on me holding me
against the door as his lips slammed against my own, his tongue
invading my mouth. This was no kiss, but an assault. He could care
less if I enjoyed it, or even that I was his mother that he was
attacking.

I tried to scream with his mouth covering mine - and came out muffled
and weak. My hands finally moved and I struck at his hard shoulders
and arms in a vain attempt to stop my son from doing this.

I prayed to god, something I had not done since before I fell in love
with my brother George, when his attacks had been nothing resembling
pleasure for me. But just like my early teens, god was not listening.

Then Jake stopped, leaning his face away from my own, smirking as if
he owned me. That was when my hand came up and struck at one side of
his face. His smirk dissolving into fury and I regretted my strike
even before I saw his hand approaching. It hurt like hell and I was
thrown to the floor on my side, one side of my face on fire. I felt
his hands yanked me up off my hip to my knees and looked up just as
the hand descended yet again, on the other cheek. I tasted blood and
my eyes began to tear up.

I was still stunned and in pain, but the horror of my situation had
not yet sunken in. I was savagely thrown to the bed and lay there
gasping, holding my cheeks in pain, shocked.

Next to my dangling feet, Jake began to remove his clothing - the
jeans, tee shirt, and then underwear all falling to the floor to add
to the mess. That was when reality sunk in, that this was happening
again; the horror, the pain and the humiliation.

I turned on the bed and frantically began to crawl to the far side,
trying to get as far away from my only son as quickly as possible. I
couldn't move. I shouted and kicked at the hand with my free foot,
just as with my ankle he caught that as well. I could see Jake
smirking - his penis rising - god help me.

Then I was kneeling on the messy hardwood floor of my son's room, a
fist intertwined in my long hair roughly holding me still. The free
hand came down again and struck my left cheek again ,for only a split
second I thought I was going to mercifully black out, but the spots in
my eyes quickly disappeared.

Like his dead uncle George, whom he had mercifully never met, Jake had
a large throbbing penis the likes I had never seen, with one
exception. I went through guys without consideration after George died
until I met Jake's father.  The cock was circumcised, which I had
already known as his father had demanded it, with a large pink smooth
crown a long thick ribbed shaft that jerked steadily under my gaze.
At the tip was a viscous drop, moving slowly under gravity to the
underside of the head.

"Like it mom?" He said with malicious laugh. "Good, you are going to
be well acquainted with it from now on."

Then it was pressed forwards and I pressed my lips together so that it
struck my face bluntly.  I could feel the warm dampness of that drop
upon my chin and resisted the urge to slip my tongue out to taste it.

Jake just rose his hand higher and my face seemed to burn harsher from
its earlier punishment so I relented.  The threat was enough
evidently.  I had been through this hell before, I knew the punishment
was often a pleasure for the punisher and there was nothing the
punished could do.  I had learned the hard way to just let it happen,
that it really never took very long and that there was not as much
pain as when I resisted.

The thick penis entered my mouth - and I tasted the salt of the
pre-cum as well as smell the stale sweat of his balls. My son let out
a moan of pleasure at the invasion. I looked up past his hard flat
stomach and I could see a wide smile of pleasure on his face. My
brother George rarely smiled and just used me, usually with a
snarl. However, that was the only thing the two men did not have in
common. Like his uncle, Jake liked to use his hands to move my face up
and down his hard penis, moving it back and forth within my mouth. I
knew enough about this abuse to know to apply the proper amount of
suction. If I did not I knew that I would be severely punished.

Ever since George, I had not been able to put a male organ in my mouth
and not remember the young teenager being orally raped, the
humiliation and the fear. Like an addict, I did it frequently with the
guys I dated in my later teens, having no self respect about who or
what used me.

I felt Jake pressing his penis roughly and as deep as he could,
recognizing how his uncle used to do the same thing - wanting me to
gag, to take it down my throat. So rather than relax my gag-reflex, I
stiffened it so that I began to cough and gag as if on cue.  Jake
laughed evilly yet again and then continued fucking my mouth, not
caring to whom it belonged too.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, dripping to the top of my dress.  No one
cared. Is there anyone that can help me? Was there something wrong
with me? Did I attract this attention by doing something; some look,
or was it some way I spoke to him? Or perhaps I just deserved this?

I could feel the pleasure through that penis and knew this rape would
end much like the first George had forced upon me, filling my mouth
with his seed. The intercourse rapes only started later and just like
my mouth, I had no options there either.

Then it was happening, the penis straining, enlarging a few
millimetres before stiffening, pausing, and then it began to jerk,
pumping out its incestuous seed. I swallowed expertly, having sucked
many cocks dry since my brother George had been the first. I knew what
he wanted, what would help my situation and lesson the pain I allowed
a thick drop to ooze out the corner of my lips, sliding down my chin.

Laughing - that evil sound that I already knew I would hate for the
rest of my life.  His hands roughly turned my face back and forth,
inspecting my tears, the drop of sperm, the red pain-filled cheeks.
He must have liked what he saw, shoving me back onto my hip away from
him.

Fear seemed to ebb away from me then - something that took years with
George.  And I slowly eased myself from the floor, smoothing down my
calf-length dress even though I had an audience.

"Come here mom?"

First thing I did was check to see if he was hard again - something
that was not uncommon in teenagers, I knew from experience.
Thankfully it was not, it was laying across one thigh, still slimy
with my saliva and his sperm.

Like the good little toy that I was, I stepped towards the edge of the
bed and my son.  My body trembled and I made the mistake of diagnosing
that barely-contained emotion - the shiver had run from my neck down
my spin to tickle my anus and then pierce into my sex.  I was wet, hot
and wet and throbbing - it was the ultimate humiliation.  The same
thing had happened to me with George, years after the rapes started of
course, when I discovered that I enjoyed what was being done to me -
that I needed it like breathing.  This knowledge, this discovery
between my legs, scared me renewed.

Jake smirked at me as his hand reached out and grasped me knee -
moving quickly up my thigh.  I knew where he was going and I felt the
shame reheat my cheeks but I did not resist.  Rough fumbling around my
panty and then his strong digit piercing my flesh, moving easily
inside me.  Jake's smile became wider and he withdrew his hand from
beneath my skirt.

I can see the coating of my juice over his index finger, running down
into his palm as the hand came towards my face.  The finger smeared
the familiar nectar over my lips while my son laughed on and on.  Have
I ever been so humiliated?  It may be Jake doing this to me, but it
was George that had opened the door.

"Come to me after midnight mom and I'll be sure to give your cunt the
attention it appears to need."  He shoved me with the back of his hand
on my thigh.  "Now get the fuck out of my room."

I had been dismissed as well as been put into my place.

This was just the beginning, just like it had been with George.  How
often had my brother ordered me to attend him at a certain hour - how
I used to watch the clock tick towards my own doom, but never once
missing the scheduled meeting.  I would be back here at midnight just
as Jake ordered and I had little doubts that it would not just be my
mouth getting used next time.

I silently closed the door behind me, breathing in a lungful of air as
if it was untainted by the sins within that room.  The door just a
couple meters down the hallway opens and Jenny steps out, surprised at
my appearance - looking me up and down so that I feared her one look
would give away the slut I truly was.  My hand shot up and I ensured
that the drop of sperm on my chin had disappeared.

Jenny closes her door and starts down the hallway, like there was
nothing odd about her mother coming out red-faced from her brother's
room with tears in her eyes and sperm on her chin.  She says as she
steps by me, "Its better if you just do whatever he says mom."

Instinctively I answer, "I know."

Our eyes meet and the both of us knew - the both of us understand.

My god Jake has been a busy boy.

--
