A Small Souvenir

At some point, Eleanor ushered Hayley away, letting Matt and Holly spend some time together. He took her inside and gave her a tour of the house. Matt and Eleanor were both upscale professionals, so their home was quite impressive. Five bedrooms, a huge garden, a couple of en-suite bathrooms, a huge kitchen and various other reception rooms.

"I think you've made quite an impression on one young lady," Matt said, smiling at Holly, as they walked through the house together.

"Hayley?" She responded, "oh she's so lovely. I can't believe she's my sister."

"Nor can she. You were so good with her. So patient. You're obviously a natural with kids. You'd clearly make a fantastic mum...or mom."

She smiled, and Matt continued with the tour.

"Now, this is my den," he said, as he led her downstairs to the basement.

"What goes on down here?" She asked.

"I have an office, with a drawing board and laptop for my job, and then there's my workbench."

He pointed towards a metal frame with a large wooden work surface, that took up quite a considerable space towards the back of the room. Overhead, there were a couple of powerful spotlights, that were currently switched off. The only illumination came from the windows near the ceiling.

"What do you use this for?" She asked, testing how sturdy the bench was by pressing down firmly with her hands.

"Oh, all sorts of things. DIY, carpentry. I used to make miniature furniture for Hayley's dollhouse."

"Oh," she whispered, suddenly sounding a little tense.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's silly. Just the thought of you making things for your daughter. I can't help but think about, what if that had been me?"

He smiled wistfully.

"Yeah, I can just imagine it. I'd be busy, beavering away and in you'd come. My little girl."

"Whatcha doing Daddy, I'd ask."

"Let me show you, I'd say, before lifting you up on to the bench."

And at that moment, he grabbed her round the waist and did exactly that. She almost yelped as this big, powerful man picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Her denim skirt rode up and her legs parted slightly; Matt could see a glimpse of her white cotton knickers. He placed her firmly on the bench and he stood between her thighs, resting his hands either side of her. He could hear her breathe heavily, as she stared intently into his eyes.

"I'm sorry I was never there for you, Holly. I didn't even know you existed."

"That's okay...Dad."

He smiled at her, thrilled beyond words to hear her use that word, in earnest, for only the second time. Then he lifted his hands up on to the exposed skin of her legs, caressing her gently. The movement was instinctive, tactile and if you'd asked him, entirely innocent. He couldn't help but touch this young woman who had come into his life. It's almost as if he was checking she was real, not some strange apparition. But there was something intensely sensuous about the way his fingers stroked her skin.

"Have you enjoyed today?" He asked.

"Yes. So much. Your family...my family...are lovely. And the barbecue was great. I was reliably informed that British people couldn't cook."

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yes, you're notorious for it."

"Americans are always slagging off British food. Americans, of all people. I mean if it was the French or the Italians or the Chinese criticising our cuisine, I wouldn't mind. But Americans? The people who brought you the hot-dog or the cheeseburger. Please."

"Well, you have to admit, British food is pretty bad," she said, barely able to suppress a guffaw.

"That and our bad teeth?"

"Yes! You've all got really bad teeth! It's a thing everyone knows."

"My teeth are fine," he said.

"I bet they're not."

"They're fantastic. Perfect."

"Show me."

"No."

"Show me," she giggled, lifting her hands up to his face. He had clamped his mouth firmly shut, his lips pressed together. She tried to pull them apart, her fingers moving around his chin and cheeks, but he resisted ferociously. He moved his hands to her waist, grasping hold of her exposed midriff. He pulled her forwards, her body pressing against his, groin rubbing against groin, neither of them yet conscious of how hard he was.

They paused for a moment. Holly's cheeks were flushed. Her nipples were hard. Her cunt was sopping wet. She left her hands on his face, caressing his cheeks as he stroked the sides of her body. Their lips were only inches away from each other. Father and daughter stared into each other's eyes, both of them suddenly conscious of the thick erotic tension that had entered the room.

In mere moments, they would be kissing. Making out, as she squirmed on the work bench, her cotton-covered groin grinding against his. His hands would be exploring her nubile body. Her hands would be running through his dark, greying hair. All that was just seconds away.

But then...

"There you are," Hayley said, as she came strolling into the room, completely oblivious to the awkward position she found her father and sister in, "Holly, do you want to play badminton?"

"Sure, that would be neat," she replied, easing herself down from the bench. Matt stepped back and allowed her to leave the room. He watched as the two young women disappeared upstairs.

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, not unaware for a moment of the hardness of his cock.

After waiting a few seconds, to try and allow his arousal to subside a little, Matt followed them out and joined his wife in the garden. She was sat on a chair, sipping wine. Not far away, Hayley and Holly were, as previously advertised, playing badminton.

Eleanor looked up and smiled at him. Then she nodded towards the two girls.

"I think Hayley has a new best friend," she said.

"She has a sister."

"Yes," she replied. "Holly, where are you staying?"

"Oh, a cheap place in London. AirBnB. It's pretty skeevy to be honest, but I'm not there much of the time."

"You should come and stay with us," Eleanor said.

"What?" Holly replied.

"What?" Matt repeated.

"Yeah, it's silly that you're paying out good money for a crappy flat somewhere, when we have plenty of space here. You are family, after all."

"Are you sure?" Holly asked, her tone a little incredulous.

"Absolutely. You'll fit right in."

"Well, if you're sure..." Holly said, her voice rising in anticipation.

"Of course we're sure, aren't we Daddy?" Eleanor replied, sardonically, looking at her husband.

"Yeah, why not?" He stammered.

Hayley cheered at the news and gave Holly a hug, probably about the one-millionth she had administered that day. The young woman looked towards Matt and the two of them stared at one another, both of them conscious of the moment they had shared a few minutes earlier in his den.

Eleanor on the other hand was blissfully unaware of what she had done, and what a toxic chain of events she had set in motion. To be fair, her marriage to her husband was probably doomed from the moment Holly first set foot in the foyer of Matt's office building, or perhaps even the earlier moment when a cancer-stricken Molly Severinsen decided her daughter deserved to know the truth about who her real father was.

Either way, the marriage was certainly doomed now, it was only a matter of time.

A fuse had just been lit and very soon there was going to be one hell of an explosion.

7

Both Matt and Holly were bright, perceptive people, with a keen intellect and a sophisticated emotional intelligence. And both of them knew they wanted to fuck each other, with a profound sense of certitude and unease. Perhaps to begin with, they had dismissed the infatuation as merely the intense bond between a parent and child who had only just discovered each other for the first time.

But it was pretty obvious, right at the start, that there was something else, much more intense and serious surrounding them. Their near-clinch in his den, where she was almost draped up against the front of his body, was the final warning bell, ringing out like a nuclear siren.

Matt had quickly gone perusing the internet, firstly to look up real life stories about adopted children being introduced to their parents later in life; secondly, to find porn featuring sexy brunettes with big tits, so he could brutally beat himself off. His beefy, hairy cock felt rock hard in his hand as he jerked himself off to a fiery climax.

Holly was also enjoying long, regular sessions of self-love. Like her mother before her, she had first discovered masturbation as a teenager and now viewed it as a vital and energising part of her lifestyle. She would set aside whole afternoons, so she could indulge in long, sweaty sessions of frenzied onanism.

She knew her body was a thing to behold, a sumptuous palace of delights - God knows she worked hard enough to keep it that way - and she knew how lucky she was to have this body to play with. Its obscene curves, its sumptuous peaks, its decadent shape. She always relished that moment when a man - and on more than a few occasions, a woman - might see her naked for the first time. The widening of their eyes, the quiet gasp emitting from their lips.

Her body had power and she knew how to use it. Had she been doing so with Matt? Wearing outfits that were a little too revealing? A little too tight?

Maybe.

Now, here she was, lying on her bed in the grotty little place she soon wouldn't be needing anymore. And she was completely naked, once again. One hand was clamped to one of her large breasts, squeezing and pulling at it, stretching her nipple taut. Her other hand was buried between her legs, lazily rubbing at her clit. She could smell how turned on she was, and she could feel the gushing wet juiciness of her cunt. Smooth and completely hairless, just the way she liked it.

Sometimes, when she masturbated, she would use toys. She had a whole host of small vibrators and dildos that were ready for action. She liked to insert a butt-plug in her ass, and then she'd use a vibrator to stimulate her clit, torturing herself until she was squirting cunt-juice high up in to the air.

But today she was relying on her hands; her dexterous, supple hands. Both of them would roam all over her body, stroking and caressing and squeezing and pinching and twisting and generally revelling in her sumptuous form. Her orgasm would creep up on her, like a ghost in the night. Her whole body would start to tingle, her nipples would feel tender and alert.

And when she came, she would scream and shake and twitch, as waves of sexual ecstasy would wash over her, overwhelming her mind and clouding her senses. She'd lie there, a wet mess, panting and gasping, her consciousness slipping away from her.

Oh fuck, I want him so much, she would think to herself.

Her fingers would be drawn to her clit, like iron filings to a magnet, despite how sensitive and sore she had become. She imagined him, his strong jaw, his mesmerising eyes, his greying hair, his broad shoulders, his powerful hairy arms. Her legs fell wide apart as she began rubbing once more. Another orgasm was only moments away.

A few days later and Holly moved in. As Eleanor had said, the Sutton house was big, with a couple of spare rooms. Each one, tastefully decorated. Eleanor had exquisite judgment and the entire property looked like it belonged in the pages of a style magazine.

"Think of it as your home," Eleanor had told her, "come and go as you please. Feel free to raid the kitchen. Record whatever you want on the Sky+ box."

"Shouldn't I pay you rent or something?"

"No, don't worry about it. Your father and I are embarrassingly well off, we wouldn't dream of charging you money."

"Thank you, thank you so much."

"You just being here is reward enough for Matt. The thought of you being close to him is all he needs."

"You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely. You can see it in the way he looks at you. His whole face just lights up whenever you enter the room. Your Dad is crazy about you. You make him happy in a way I haven't seen since the kids were little."

Holly had blushed a little at that news, but she was ecstatic with the new arrangements. Back home, she had been the youngest member of her family by some distance. Her older brother was almost a man and her older sister a teenager, when she was born. They had both grown up and moved out by the time Holly was really conscious of what was happening in their worlds.

She only really got to spend any time with her folks, and their relationship had always seemed strained and a little distant. A reality that would make a lot more sense, once she discovered the truth about her conception. She had told Matt that her other father probably had not known the truth about what he had gotten up to with his wife, but she didn't know that for certain.

What if he had known? Or at least suspected? What must it be like to raise another man's child? How humiliating. How awful. That would certainly cast a shadow over proceedings, put a dampener on life in a whole new way.

But now, she had a whole new family. An exciting, friendly, sociable, funny gang of characters, that had brought a whole new dimension to her life.

And key to that new dimension was her father. Her ultra-handsome, ultra-sexy father.

The two of them spent more and more time with each other, which was easily done now that they shared a home together.

She would sit and watch him work in his den. Studying him attentively as he drew his precise and exacting designs.

They would watch television together, sprawled out on the sofa, their bodies sometimes intertwined. He introduced her to Monty Python, The Young Ones and Blackadder, telling her this was her English heritage. And sometimes she would actually laugh.

He taught her the rules of cricket and proper football. The version where you actually used your feet.

She told him stories of her childhood and her mother and her life back home in the States.

He would tease her about her pronunciation and spelling, telling her that it was called English because his countrymen had invented it and therefore however they spelled it or pronounced it was correct, and however Americans did it was wrong.

They laughed and they talked and they very surely fell in love. That undeniable sexual spark that had existed from the first moment they set eyes on one another, was compounded and strengthened by a deepening emotional and romantic connection.

And then one day, he gave her a present.

He invited her in to his den and lifted her up on to the bench, the same way he had the first day she spent here. She felt that sensuous little thrill she did every time he handled her in such a way. He was a powerful man and that stark truth never left her.

He picked up a small box, wrapped in ribbon, that was sat on his desk. He handed it to her. Slowly she pulled off the wrappings and opened it up. She looked down and gasped. Then she looked up at him, her eyes watering.

"I couldn't get it out of my mind, the thing you said when I first showed you this room," he said, softly, "how I had made furniture for Hayley's doll house, but I had never done it for you."

"I never meant anything by it, I understood."

"No, it's okay. You were right. You are my daughter too. I should have made stuff for you."

She lifted a small, delicately made wooden chair out of the box. She smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Daddy."

She embraced him and then she kissed him. They looked at one another for a second, then she kissed him again. These kisses were still - just about - modest and restrained.

"We kiss on the lips in this family," she whispered, before doing so again.

This time, there was nothing remotely familial about it. She pressed her mouth firmly against his, before parting her lips and pushing her tongue forward into her father's mouth. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before he responded in kind. His tongue now meeting hers, their mouths widening in passionate excitement.

Frantically, she wrapped her arms round his neck, the doll's chair still firmly in her grasp. He grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her towards him, their bodies slamming into one another, his rock-hard cock now grinding up against the groin of her knickers. The two of them practically salivating, as they made out with a furious and relentless abandon. Weeks, months, of suppressed desire, suddenly erupting in a ferocious, all-consuming hunger.

He placed his hands on her cheeks, cupping them gently as they kissed. Their eyes bored into each other, the two of them trying to possess the other. She could feel his hardness rubbing up against the tender crease of her hot, wet gash. She cursed herself for wearing panties that day.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, Holly, we shouldn't be doing this," he hissed at her.

"I know," she replied, "but I can't help myself. I really can't."

Neither of them said anything else, their burning passion was too strong and overwhelming. They just panted and groaned as they kissed, their lips pushing hard together, their arms wrapped round each other, their groins rubbing together intently. Matt dry-humped his daughter for a minute or more, but then, finally, sanity reimposed itself upon him. His grip loosened, his lips withdrew, his body pulled away.

"No, we can't do this," he whispered haltingly, "this has to stop."

"Yes, I know. You're right...but it's so difficult."

"We're in real trouble here, aren't we kiddo?"

"Yeah, we are. It's been like this ever since we first met. As soon as I saw you, there was just this feeling I had."

"I felt exactly the same, but we can't do anything about it. I'm your father."

The two of them stared at one another for a few seconds, then Matt stepped away, almost stumbling as he did so. From the look of it, her touch almost seemed to be scalding him, as if he was flinching from her grasping arms. It's like she were a deadly spider that had almost trapped him in her lair, and he had only just managed to escape.

She sat on the bench, her skirt hunched up at her waist, her legs spread apart, her underwear visibly soaked. You could see saliva on her lips and cheeks and chin, but it wasn't clear whether it was hers or his. Her nipples were hard and her breathing was heavy and pronounced.

"You better go tidy yourself up," he whispered.

She nodded and then eased herself down to the floor, her knickers fully exposed as she did so, and she quietly disappeared. He stood there, in a state of shock. He had been seconds away from ripping open her blouse, so he could feast on her breasts. Seconds away from unzipping his fly and fishing out his cock. Seconds away from tearing her underwear to shreds and slamming himself inside her.

But he hadn't. He had - just about - restrained himself. But holy fuck, she had been so tempting. This sexual bombshell had exploded in his life. This gorgeous, voluptuous creature, with tits and hips any porn star would kill for, had entered his world, and he wanted her. Let there be no doubt about it, he wanted her more than he had wanted anything in his entire life.

And yet she was his daughter.

So, he had done the right thing and stopped her. Stopped both of them, in fact.

But how would they deal with one another now that the truth between them had been revealed?

How could they act like father and daughter when what they really wanted was to fuck like animals?

8

For the first time since they had met, there was a distance and an unease between the two of them. In the first couple of days after the 'incident' in the den, they had mostly just avoided each other. That wasn't too difficult; it was a big house and he had work to go to. Holly kept to her room and they didn't see all that much of one another.