textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/cain1.txt

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From: an349772@anon.penet.fi
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Date: Sat, 10 Aug 1996 20:01:34 UTC
Subject: EBS:  Raising Cain [1/2]  * REPOST
Lines: 548


This is a service of the Erotic Broadcast Service!  The following story is not
written by me nor do I agree/diagree with its contents.  I am simply posting
this story so that concenting adults who might not find this disagreable will
enjoy it.  As such, the author retains all rights to the story and all areas of
its publication.  If anyone who has written a better legal disclaimer, I would
appreciate it very much if you would send me a copy to use with my postings.

"Please continue reading ONLY IF YOU'RE ABOVE 18 YEARS OLD and reading this story
does not break any kind of law in your community/city/state/country."  Thanks. :-}

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
                        WARNING!

The following story is an uncensored sexual fantasy
involving practices that are illegal, immoral, socially
unacceptable, and messy.  Only mature adults with a
firm grasp on reality should venture further.  This
story promotes nothing, and nothing in this story
should be taken seriously.  Readers are cautioned not
to attempt any of these acts without professional
guidance and a net.  If you are underage, stand, 
move away from the console, and unplug the computer.  
Reading stories like this can make you go blind. 
If you are a servant of the Lord, looking for sinners
to convert, study this story and memorize it.  This
will help you recognize sinners when you see them. 
Good luck, and avoid mirrors!
 
Phil Phantom     
 

                     "Raising Cain" 
                    (Part one of two)
                       By Tiffany

Cain is our only child.  Thank God, because I never could have
raised two.  Cain would have been a handful for any mother under
the best of circumstances.  My husband, Cliff, hamstrung me with
Dr. Spock's method of child raising.  Yes, Cliff read the book
forward and backward.  He firmly believed in the non-physical
method of child raising.  Dr. Spock never tried his methods on a
kid like Cain.  If he had, his book would have been completely
different.

You can say no to Cain until you're blue; he doesn't mind.  You
can talk and reason until you're black and blue; nothing gets
through.  Even at the age of three, Cain would stand flat-footed
and yell, "NO!"  Consequently, Cain grew up getting his way.  I
don't dare try to shop with him.  As for getting help from Cliff,
no chance.  Cliff thinks the method is working just fine.  He
would, he's never around.

Cliff thinks a kid that gets expelled twice a year since first
grade is a sign of being high spirited.  He will not help me
break his kid's spirit.  Cliff can control Cain by a firm
lecture, but avoids them if possible.  In order to curb an
intolerable situation, I must call on Cliff.  Afterwards, Cain
stays pissed at me for days, making my life miserable for telling
on him.  Therefore, I try not to involve Cliff.

As an example, when Cain was eight, he suddenly took an interest
in the physical differences between boys and girls.  He marched
in the door one day, strode up to me, and said, "Mom, take your
clothes off.  I want to see you naked."

I looked at him like he was nuts and told him, in a manner of
speaking, to go to hell.  The war was on.  I could not turn my
back on him after that.  He'd lift my skirt and try to yank my
panties down.  He'd reach inside my blouse.  He even snuck under
my bedding with a flash light.  When I told Cliff what Cain was
doing, Cliff quoted book and verse from Dr. Spock's book. 
"Parents should satisfy the natural curiosity of children.  Sex
should be discussed openly to the degree the child wants to
know."  He told me to let the kid look.

I am painfully shy about my body, even though I think I have a
good one.  I'm not big busted, but I am trim and shapely. 
Without Cliff's help, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.  The
worst part of all was that the war interfered with my favorite
pastime, masturbation.  I could never relax knowing Cain might be
hiding and watching.

The next day, while fighting off Cain, I suddenly jumped up,
stripped, and reclined with my legs apart in complete surrender. 
Cain had a field day exploring every nook and cranny of my body. 
I gave him the three dollar tour.  At his insistence, I even
demonstrated how women pee, sitting on the toilet with my knees
out wide while Cain peeled back my labia lips.  

He fondled, pinched, and sucked my tits.  There was nothing
sexual about this.  He was simply curious.  After that, he
stopped bugging me.  He paid little attention to my body, in
fact.  The positive side effect of this was that I overcame my
inhibitions around Cain.  Being nude in Cain's presence was
easier than being nude with Cliff.  Cliff and I still made love
with the lights off.  

I thought I'd been through the worst, and then puberty hit.  Cain
shot up like a weed.  Now, in the seventh grade, when he stands
flat-footed to tell me no, we are eye to eye.  Furthermore, he
took a renewed interest in my body, a sexual interest, at a time
when Cliff wouldn't look twice at a beaver shot.  I can't say I
didn't enjoy the attention, but I strongly resented my son's
crude fondling.  When he'd finger fuck me or try to suck my
titties, I'd tell him no.  He rarely took my no, but I tried to
be firm.  I struggled against his assaults, but he could
overpower me.
    
I'm a petite woman anyway.  I stand five two, and my normal weight
is one hundred and ten pounds.  Cain weighs about the same, but
he is all muscle.  I couldn't hold him down if I wanted to take a
belt to him.  In those early months of puberty, I wanted to do
just that.  If Cliff only knew what his son has put me through,
he'd...well, he'd have done something, I'm sure.  I just wish I'd
told him when the trouble first started.  

This all started when Cain's voice started changing.  He began
taking an abnormal interest in women, not girls, women.  He had a
source for hard-core pornography.  He kept these slick magazines
in his room.  Since I cleaned his room, I noticed everything. 
Cain never tried to hide them, anyway.  I knew the first time he
had an ejaculation.  He proudly soiled his bed sheets, underwear,
and socks which I had to handle.  

When I made no comment about this, he became bolder.  He began
depositing his load on my personal things.  I found sperm on my
toothbrush, in my clean panties, on my pillow, in my favorite
coffee cup, in the silverware, in my shoe, and in my bra cups. 
Far from upsetting me, I grew to enjoy these sticky surprises. 
If I felt something squish between my toes on slipping a shoe on,
I'd wear the shoe that way.  I brushed my teeth with sperm, ate
with a spermy fork, and drank my coffee with sperm cream.  If I
pulled out a pair of fresh panties with a soggy crotch, I wore
them.  I gladly set my breasts in wet bra cups.

I tried to never let Cain see me do these things, but one
morning, I caught him zipping up after sperming my coffee cup.  I
pulled back, out of sight, my pussy all a-tingle.  I took a deep
breath and walked into the kitchen, putting on my usual, half-
asleep morning face.  As Cain sat before his cereal, watching me
with a wicked grin, I groggily poured coffee in the cup, added a
spoon of sugar, a spoon of creamer, and stirred without looking. 
When I brought the coffee to my lips, taking a long sip, Cain's
wry grin became a wide grin.  I made a pleasant face and joined
him.  He said, "How's your coffee this morning, Mom?"

I said, "It's very rich.  I always enjoy my first cup best of
all, but this morning the coffee is very good."  I took another
long sip, watching his reaction.  He just smiled knowingly.

The following morning, I walked in on him while he was jerking
off, naked in his bed.  He didn't stop; he didn't even look up. 
My catching him triggered his orgasm, in fact.  He ejaculated all
over his chest, then he looked to me.  I backed out, blushing
profusely.

After that, Cain jacked off wherever and whenever he felt the
need.  He went for shock value and was quite proud of his
erections.  He had a right to be.  For a thirteen-year-old, he
had an impressive piece of meat between his legs.  He had seven
inches as thick as his father's with a flaring helmet as big as a
plum.  When erect, his adult-looking cock arched back almost to
his lower belly.  His father had eight inches but had difficulty
reaching the perpendicular when fully erect, and the head was
smaller than Cain's.  Furthermore, Cain still had a lot of
growing to do.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to look at my son's cock. 
Cliff was my first and only lover.  Cliff's cock was the only
adult cock I'd ever seen in person.  Until Cain started bringing
the porn home, Cliff's cock was the only adult cock I'd ever
seen.  I thought Cliff was huge.  While Cain was in school, I
learned differently while perusing his material.  I saw cocks
twice as big as Cliff's, as thick as my wrist, and with heads the
size of my fist.  I got weak in the knees just thinking about
taking a cock that big.  I got weak in the knees just thinking
about taking Cain's.

Yes, in my private fantasies, I thought the unthinkable.  I
couldn't help it.  I saw Cain's cock several times a day, in
action.  To make matters worse, I have always been fascinated by
semen.  I love the stuff.  I like the taste, smell, and
consistency.  I love to feel the hot, slimy goo squirting deep
inside me, squishing between my thighs, sliding between my pussy
lips when I walk, running down my legs, and drying on my body. 
Cain could ejaculate eight times in one day, with his last load
equaling his father's first.  Cain's first could drown a cock-
sucking whore.  Cain gave me plenty to fantasize about.

Cliff was no help.  I could have vented much of my sexual
tensions on him, but he was rarely around.  Cliff is a
workaholic, and after fifteen years of marriage, his sexual
appetite dramatically waned as mine grew.  Sometimes, we went
months between fucks and weeks between blow jobs.  I often
resorted to sucking him off while he slept, just for a taste of
semen.  When Cain started jerking off in front of me, I was
sucking off Cliff whenever I could get him alone.  Sometimes, he
had to push me away.  Cliff called me a sex maniac and made me
take cold showers.  I'm serious; he'd put me in the shower and
turn on the cold water.

I knew I should have told Cliff what Cain was doing.  I came
close, but after a few forced cold showers, I was in no mood to
curb the one outlet I had--masturbating to the image of a recent
display of youthful virility.  Masturbating to the image of
Cain's magnificent cock spewing forth a fountain of rich sperm
gave me my best orgasms ever.

Also, I knew that Cain would continue to escalate his activities
if I didn't tell on him.  The very idea thrilled me.  Speculating
about what might happen next was masturbatory foreplay.  For the
first week, all he did was jerk off where I'd catch him in the
act.  When he got away with that, he began jerking off after
seeking me out.  If I moved, he'd follow.    

I came close to telling Cliff after Cain jerked off while
standing in front of me.  I was seated on the sofa, pretending to
read a magazine but secretly watching over the top.  The first
blast hit my magazine.  Two more jets landed on my skirt. 
Several ropy strands landed on my bare legs.  For appearances
sake, I threw the magazine at him and stormed off to the
bathroom.  In the bathroom, I gathered his sperm on my fingers
and sucked my fingers.  His youthful ball juice was like
ambrosia.  

I knew I'd be courting disaster if I didn't put a halt to Cain's
latest outrage.  I could only imagine what his further
escalations might entail.  I imagined them while masturbating. 
After a dozen terrific orgasms, I decided not to tell.  For two
days, Cain thought he would catch hell.  For those two days, he
laid low.  I did not see his cock.  For those two days, I was a
wreck.  At first, I was sorely tempted to tell Cliff what had
happened, but after two days, I was craving another encounter. 
After seeing his father come and go twice without any mention of
the incident, Cain relaxed.

Cliff leaves the house as Cain awakens.  I usually watch the
morning TV news while drinking my coffee, usually wearing only a
loosely-belted short robe.  On that third morning, I half
expected, fully hoped, that Cain would give me a parting show
before leaving for school.  I waited with growing nervousness.  I
sat with my back to the hallway and did not hear his approach. 
Suddenly, a slimy wet hand cupped my mouth and nose from behind,
pulling my head back.

The shock startled me, but my first strained intake of breath
told me I had a face full of fresh sperm.  I struggled only half-
heartedly and tried shouting my protests.  All this did was
permit Cain to get his wet fingers in my mouth.  He had me by my
hair with one hand, laughing wickedly while wiping his sperm-
covered hand through my moving lips.

This crude and messy assault was marvelous.  My mouth, inside and
out, was coated in his fresh spend.  I savored the feel and taste
while putting up a show of resistance.  I made faces while he
meticulously wiped sperm from my face and stuffed coated fingers
inside my mouth.  I could have sealed my lips tightly to prevent
this; instead, I kept up a steady flow of muffled words in mock
agonized disgust.  He took his time and got most in my mouth
before walking away, laughing.  I swallowed his load then spit
saliva into the lapel of my robe.  I doubled over, sputtering and
gagging, putting up a good front.  Cain watched from a distance,
laughing.

We didn't speak as he readied himself for school, but on the way
out the door, he paused to say, "I'll whip up another snack for
you when I get home from school.  Bye, Mommy!"

I went straight to my bedroom and attacked my hot pussy.  I spent
most of my day torturing my cunt, in fact.  I dreamed of the
repeat assault.  My only concern was that I somehow maintain my
show of distaste and resistance.  I knew I was weakening, and the
thought of turning into a babbling sex slave to my Cain sent
shudders through me.  Somehow, I needed to impose limitations on
him.  Without dragging Cliff into the problem, that seemed an
impossible feat.  Still, I thought I must try.

When Cain returned that afternoon, I was seated in my usual place
on the sofa wearing a nice skirt and blouse combination.  I'd
spent a great deal of time fixing my hair and makeup.  I must
have looked like I was going out.  In truth, I wanted to look my
best for Cain.  He liked what he saw and strode right over,
dropping his books and standing between me and the TV show I
wasn't watching.  

Cain drew out his hardening cock and began pumping the arching
shaft.  I made a face and said, "Cain, you must stop treating me
this way.  Boys are not supposed to treat their mothers this way. 
If you must do that, please do it in private."

He merely grinned as I stared at his cock.  He said, "I'm
whipping you up a sperm snack.  You're going to eat it all up,
too.  Sperm is good for you.  You love my cum!  You like looking
at my dick, too, don't you?"

I forced my eyes up and said, "I think it's disgusting what
you're doing, and I don't like looking.  I can't help looking;
you practically shove that thing in my face.  I should tell your
father what you're doing to me."

His reply was to step closer, straddling my knees, thrusting his
cock out obscenely.  I had to draw back to avoid the wet head as
he teased, "Yeah, but you won't.  He wouldn't care anyway.  He'd
probably make you suck it."

Cain gave me this opening to explain my reluctance in telling,
and I jumped at the opportunity to seal my fate further, saying,
"I know, that's why I haven't told him.  Daddy's little boy can
do anything he wants.  Don't push your luck, though."

"Yeah, I think I'll tell him I want my own private whore.  I'll
bet he gives you the job.  How about that, Mom?  How would you
like to be my whore?"

This excited him further and had my mind racing with the
implications, the possibilities.  He pumped harder and faster.  I
watched that delicious, shiny, plum bob repeatedly into view in
the wrap of pumping fingers.  His left hand was poised at the
tip, cupped to catch his spend.  Seconds later, thick jets poured
into his free hand as he shuddered and groaned his release.  It
was all I could do not to lap at the puddle then suck that
beautiful instrument into my mouth.  My mouth watered for my
son's cock, but I maintained my look of disgust.

When he had all the sperm cupped in his hand, he held that hand
to my lips and said, "Here, lick it up."

I turned my head.  He mounted the sofa, kneeling on my left side. 
He took my hair in his right hand and pulled my head back
forcefully.  When I opened wide to go, "ouch," he upended his
cupped left hand into my open mouth.  His sperm poured in,
filling my mouth.  I was in heaven.  He said, "Now, swallow it
all."  He pulled harder on my hair.  I didn't want to swallow,
because I was hoping to savor the taste.  He took my stalling as
reluctance, but I finally did as he insisted.  

He then put the wet palm to my lips and said, "Lick it all off." 
I licked his palm.  Afterwards, he got up, grinning from ear to
ear.  I sat rightfully humbled and ashamed.  My face was even
red.  I'm sure he thought I was embarrassed, certainly
humiliated.

Cain was so happy with the way I took to his domination of me, my
subservient behavior, that he couldn't wait to try  again.  The
next assault happened thirty minutes later as I was leaning over
the sink, peeling carrots for our evening meal.  His sperm-laden
hand came from behind, cupped under my lower lip.  I gripped the
counter top and made a groan of despair.  This time, he pushed on
the back of my head until my head was down, my lips in the
puddle.  He said, "Lap it up."

I hesitated only long enough to make my surrender believable,
then dipped my tongue into the warm, white mess.  He giggled and
drove me on.  Soon, I was lapping at the puddle like a dog.  His
other hand wasn't idle, either.  He ran his right hand up my
skirt from behind and insinuated the fingers down my panties.  I
clamped my legs together but he forced his way into the crotch,
digging at my hole with his fingers.  I lapped and groaned in
feigned mortification.  When he moved his wet fingers up my ass
crack and stopped at my anus, I stopped licking.  His index
finger poked rudely inside and I cried out, "No!  Please don't do
that!"

He ignored me and fucked that finger in and out, saying, "Shut up
and keep licking, whore."  I tolerated that butt finger-fucking
and went back to my licking like a good whore should.  When he
worked a second finger up my ass, I merely groaned.  When I had
his hand clean, he dropped that hand down and went in my panties
from the front.  He toyed with my pussy, exciting my clit and
fingering the hole.  The kid knew a woman's pleasure centers and
was actively trying to make me cum.

I found my feet sliding outward as though my pussy was giving the
orders.  Before long, I stood with my feet a yard apart, head
bowed, hands gripping the counter, my pelvis grinding on my son's
fingers rapidly penetrating me, front and rear.  I had never had
my asshole touched before.  I found the wicked sensation
delightful once my sphincter adjusted.  I came like a woman
possessed with a sex demon and almost sank to the floor.

As I regained my feet, Cain drew my panties down my legs.  I
offered no resistance and stepped free of them.  He stood, lifted
my skirt to bare my ass and delivered a sharp stinging slap,
saying, "You're a good whore, Mom.  What's for supper?"

All I could do was bury my face in my hands to mask my arousal
with a show of shame.  He only laughed and walked away.  He
returned twice more while I prepared our dinner.  Each time, he
felt me up, entering both my ass and pussy for a quick fingering
and parting with another sharp slap to my ass cheeks.  I was
properly humbled.  I never said a word and would not look him in
the eye.

Cliff was out of town on business for a week.  Even if I wanted
to tell on him, I was at Cain's mercy for the entire week.  We
both knew that.  During dinner, I sat looking morose, still not
wearing panties.  He checked before I took my seat, casually
lifting my skirt in front.  When I sat, he opened my blouse and
exposed my bare breasts.  I left them exposed.

Halfway through the meal, he got up, came over, and freed his
erection.  He began jerking off.  I sat back, quietly waiting for
him to finish.  He shot his load on my dinner, covering what
remained with his special sauce.  I was delighted, of course, but
reacted with disgust, pushing my plate away, making a face.

As I expected, he moved it back and insisted I clean my plate.  I
pretended to gag with each fork full; but in reality, I never
enjoyed potatoes and carrots more.  Before the night was through,
Cain had me sucking him to orgasm while I was totally naked.  I
don't know how many times he came, but I ended up swallowing
every precious drop.

That night, he climbed into my bed with me.  We were both naked. 
I rolled away, lying on my side.  He snuggled up to me, spoon
fashion, and poked his tired erection between my legs.  I half
expected intercourse would occur, and the actuality of the
impending event had me breathing hard.  It was all I could do to
remain still and not lift my leg like the bitch in heat I'd
become.  As it turned out, lifting my leg wasn't necessary.  Cain
had easy access to my slimy wet hole and pressed hard.  His big
head pried its way through my receptive pussy lips.  I almost
swooned.  I never felt anything so erotic.

Unfortunately, the poor kid was all orgasmed out.  He'd spent his
last spend and was tired.  He simply entered me fully and drifted
off to sleep.  I was far from sleep, however.  With him snoring
beside me, I bravely used my fingers to excite my clit.  His
cock, amazingly, remained hard.  His cock was not as hard as it
gets, but hard enough for me to move my pelvis on to get a short
stroke out of him.  Together with my finger play, I managed a
quiet climax.  Thirty minutes later, with him still inside me,
still hard, I managed another.

I was awakened the following morning to a rude, missionary
screwing.  Cain was on top of me, pounding away at my cunt while
he chewed my right tittie.  I was a little disoriented, but my
pussy knew what was going on and ordered my legs wide apart.  My
back arched, and I used both hands to squeeze my tittie up in
lewd offering.  This was fucking the way I'd always dreamed
fucking should be.  The fact that my son was doing the fucking
made no difference.  Any male that could do to my body what Cain
was doing to it, had themselves a whore.

In passionate surrender, I cupped my hands to his head and
slobbered wet kisses all over his face, saying, "Oh, yes, Cain,
fuck me!  Fuck Mommy, sweetheart.  Oh, yes, baby!  I'm your
whore, darling."   The words were out before I knew what I was
saying.  Those words made him cum deep in my womb, deep in my
fertile womb, I might add.  Since Cliff had a vasectomy, we used
no birth control.  I wasn't thinking about that at the time,
though.   I was too busy cumming on that shooting cock.

Since the words were out, I had no intention of trying to take
them back.  When Cain collapsed on me, I cupped his tight
buttocks, squeezing and stroking his soft skin.  His ear was
beside my mouth.  I kissed his ear and whispered sexily, "That
was wonderful, Cain.  I meant what I said.  I'll be your private
whore.  I'll do anything you want, anytime."  I planted loving
kisses while stroking his flanks, grinding my sex-starved cunt on
his still buried cock.  Cain simply relaxed and soaked up the
lewd affection.

We languished in each others arms, alone with our own thoughts. 
I began thinking about all that virile sperm swimming about in my
womb and began counting back the days since my last period.  It
was dangerously close to my fertile cycle, but too late to do
anything about it if I was fertile.  Oddly, the thought that I
might, at that very moment, be conceiving a child by my own son
gave me a wicked thrill.  Still, I had enough sense to know what
a disaster that would be.  Getting an abortion on the sly would
be difficult without Cliff's knowledge.  He controls every dime,
and our state requires the consent of both parties for married
women.

I said, "Cain, we are going to have to get you some condoms,
sweetheart.  It wouldn't do for me to get pregnant.  You do know
that your father had an operation to make sure he couldn't make
babies, don't you?"

To my utter surprise, he said, "Yeah, I know.  That's why I want
to get you pregnant.  I'm not going to wear no rubbers, no way."

I said, "But honey, that would be a disaster.  I'd have to get an
abortion if that happened."

"No you wouldn't, and you'd better not try.  If you do, I'll tell
Dad.  I'll tell him you've been fucking all kinds of men.  I'll
tell him you're the biggest whore in town."

I was stunned, to say the least.  I backed off to get a good look
at his face to see if he was serious.  He got up on his straight
arms, looking down on me, and said, "I'm going to knock you up,
Mother.  You're my whore, now, and I want you pregnant.  I always
get what I want.  You know that, don't you?"

"But, baby, your father will divorce me if that happens."

"I know, then I'll have you all to myself, won't I?"

"But, sweetheart, we won't have any money."

"You'll earn plenty with your pussy.  You're my whore, remember?"

What could I do?  I wasn't about to tell Cliff after all I'd
done, after willingly screwing our son.  Cain had me and would
continue having me whether I liked it or not.  To make matters
worse, his bold declaration had fired his passions.  His once
softening cock was again rigid and moving in my soupy twat,
stirring our juices and my own passions.  I drew my feet in and
ground back saying, "In that case, then put some more sperm in
Mommy's pussy, sweetheart.  Let's do this right.  Make a baby in
me, Cain.  Fuck more sperm into my hot pussy.  Make me a pregnant
whore."

My words fired him to new levels of lust, ending in a dynamic
mutual climax and another dousing of sperm in my receptive womb. 
He stayed home from school that day and we fucked like bunnies. 
Every day, he filled my womb several times.  I remained naked and
ready to fuck for the remainder of that week.  

When I missed my next period, I wasn't the least surprised.  Cain
was elated when I told him the news.  I was somewhat elated, but
tempered with the knowledge that my life was on an irrevocable
path, one that did not hold the promise of a bright, secure
future, but did hold the promise of months, perhaps a few more
years, of deliciously wild sex.  Since I had no choice, I tried
to stay focused on the short term advantages, resolved to see my
marriage self destruct.  

The marriage was a hollow shell, anyway.  Whatever love there had
been was long dead.  Cliff was merely security; though, for a
woman with no job skills or work experience, that security
counted for a lot.  I could not conceive of fucking strange men
for money, though Cain reminded me constantly that real whoring
was in my immediate future.  Cain played up the whore angle. 
When he said whore, he meant whore.  Whoring wasn't just a dirty
word to add excitement to our incestuous relationship, as I at
first believed.  

(end part one of two)

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