A Small Souvenir

But other people noticed. Well, one other person noticed. Eleanor was a sharp cookie and she'd always been pretty observant. One evening, after he'd come back from the office, she sidled up to him in a conspiratorial fashion.

"Hey, what's going on with you and Holly?" She asked.

"Nothing's going on," he replied, in a tone that tiptoed a fine line between startled and hysterical, "what do you mean, 'what's going on?'"

"Well, the two of you have barely spoken to each other in the last week or so. Before that, you were all over each other like a rash. Have you had a falling out?"

"No, everything's fine. She's fine. I'm fine. The novelty has probably just worn off a little for her."

"If you say so," Eleanor said, not sounding remotely convinced for a nanosecond.

And on it went, this peculiar tension, born of a dark perverted lust. One morning, Matt had bumped into Holly as she was walking out one of the bathrooms. She was wearing only a towel and her body was barely covered. He could see the shiny moisture on her arms and legs. He could see the flushed texture of her recently washed skin. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out, yanking the towel away, and fucking her on the landing room floor.

One evening, late at night, he got up to go for a piss. Before going back to bed, he noticed a flickering light from downstairs. He moved quietly down the stairs and peered into the living room. Holly was sat on the settee, watching television. She was sat with her feet up on the couch, her legs folded up in front of her, pressing against her chest. Her nightie (actually, one of his football shirts) was pulled over her legs, and her arms were tightly wrapped round the front.

He watched her for a few moments, and was preparing to leave, when she noticed him out of the corner of her eye. She looked over to him and didn't say a word. Then she silently lifted up her nightdress and stretched out her long, naked legs. She spread them wide apart, placing both feet on the coffee table. It was dark and the only illumination came from the TV, but it was pretty clear she wasn't wearing any underwear.

She gave him a sardonic half-smile, and then she brought her hand to her mouth and licked her two middle fingers. Moments later, her hand disappeared between her legs, as she began masturbating. Soon she was panting and whimpering and mewling and moaning, her fingers moving with a steady, rhythmic insistence.

Matt stood there like a statue. A statue with a raging erection, but a statue nonetheless. He watched this gorgeous young woman abuse herself mercilessly, putting on quite a show for her biological father. How easy it would be to step forward and join her on the settee. How easy it would be to kiss her. Touch her. Replace her fingers with his tongue. Or his cock.

But he remained where he was, immobile, almost lifeless. He watched his daughter masturbate, her body shaking and vibrating. Her luscious frame trembling as her orgasm approached. Then, with little warning, she came. A violent, shocking eruption; her body jerking and twisting like she was suffering from some sort of seizure. She gasped and whimpered, her muscles trembling.

She lay there, spread out on the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her. He continued to watch her, as she finally calmed down. He wondered for a second if she might have fallen asleep, but then she stirred. She brought her hand to her mouth and began licking her fingers clean. She took her time, her tongue snaking between her digits, relishing every droplet of her essence.

He stood and watched her, her lower body completely exposed. She lazily looked over in his direction, her fingers returning to her snatch, before she licked and sucked on them some more. Finally, with some exertion, she stood up, tidied herself up and walked towards him.

"Goodnight, Daddy," she whispered as she left the room.

He stood there for a moment, still motionless but erect, before sprinting to the bathroom. Almost the second his hand touched his prick, ribbons of cum shot out and hosed down the hand basin. Seminal fluid slowly rolled across the porcelain, a sort of sordid frosted glazing. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned sternly.

What the fuck am I going to do, was the only message in his mind.

9

In the end, it was Eleanor who brought things to a head. If this woman had deliberately conspired to bring her husband and his daughter together in carnal congress, she couldn't have gone about it in a more methodical and deliberate way. But then she didn't know what was happening. How could she? How could she suspect the feelings Matt and Holly had for one another? It would be too outrageous. Too unbelievable.

The reality of incest proving to be so powerful it could hide the very suspicion of it.

One day, Eleanor quietly came up to Matt and told him she was taking Liam and Hayley away for the weekend. They were going to stay with their grandfather. Eleanor's mother had died a couple of years earlier from dementia, and her father now lived alone. He would love to see his grandchildren, and...

"...besides, it will give you and Holly the chance to talk," she had told him.

"What do you mean?" He had asked.

"Clearly, something's wrong. Everyone's noticed it. Even Liam's mentioned it, and he doesn't notice anything. You won't tell me what's happening, but I'm not blind. You two can get whatever it is out in the open, and then we can all get back to normal."

Matt sighed to himself and Eleanor left him alone. A little later he bumped in to Holly.

"You know we're going to be alone this weekend?" He asked her.

"Yes," she replied, "Eleanor said something to me."

"She wants us to talk."

"Is that what you want? For us to talk?"

He didn't reply. She left the room.

Eleanor and the kids were due to leave on the Friday morning. The day before, Holly travelled to a nearby town, where she had a manicure, pedicure and haircut. She also had herself freshly waxed, so she was silky smooth all over. It wasn't guaranteed that she and her father would be balling sometime in the next 24 hours, but she strongly suspected they would, and she wanted to look her best if it happened.

Matt went out that evening for a run. He pounded round the highways and byways of the village where they lived, straining every muscle, sweat pouring off him. A raging fire burning within. A complex, myriad web of desire and guilt and lust and anxiety. Part of him wanted to just run away, disappear from his life, leave this whole crazy mess behind him. And yet he wanted nothing more than return home, seek out his eldest daughter, wrap his arms round her and make love to her for the rest of his life.

That night he lay in bed, gentry stroking his cock, thoughts of Holly dominating his conscious mind. Her sleep was similarly fitful, as she too contemplated what was likely to happen the next day. She was a little more serene about the whole thing, but she wasn't unaware of what a serious step they were about to take. She had wanted this - wanted him - for almost as long as she had known him. This tense, strange atmosphere between them needed to be addressed. And if that meant the two of them getting naked and fucking, so be it.

Eleanor was up early and she quickly rustled up Liam and Hayley. The youngest child could barely cope with being parted from her older sister, but eventually they drove off, disappearing into the distance. Matt and Holly looked at each other for a moment.

"Let's go to the living room," he said, blankly, "we need to talk."

"Okay," she replied.

Holly sat on the sofa, the same one she had used when she had masturbated for her father a few nights earlier. She was wearing a short, stretchy skirt and a low-cut crop-top. It was obvious from the way she was jiggling and trembling as she walked that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Matt walked in, a file of papers in his hand. He sat on a chair opposite his daughter, and opened the file, spreading a number of documents on the glass coffee table.

"Ok...so...we need to talk," he said, "we've got a problem, you and I, and we need to deal with it."

"A problem?" She inquired.

"Yes."

"What problem?"

"You know what problem."

"The fact we want to fuck each other?"

Matt gasped, an almost prim and scandalised noise.

"Holly!"

"Well, I assumed that's the problem you were referring to."

"Ok, yes it is. That is a problem. A really big problem, don't you think?"

"Not if we don't want it to be."

"Look, I've been doing some research. What's happening between us isn't as unusual as you think."

"What is happening between us?"

"Oh, please stop doing this, Holly. You know what the issue is. Don't be deliberately obtuse. I'm just trying to make some sense of things."

"With this little presentation? Are you going to use spreadsheets and some overhead projections?" She giggled a little as she spoke.

"I just looked some stuff up on the internet. What we're experiencing has a name."

"Love?"

He paused for a second and looked up at her. She took this moment to uncross and then cross her legs, revealing she wasn't wearing any underwear beneath her skirt. He stared at her for a second, absorbing her little Sharon Stone moment, then he returned to his papers. She simply smiled.

"It's called genetic sexual attraction. It's more common than you might imagine. Two family members who meet for the first time as adults, or who weren't brought up together, can experience a strong physical desire for one another. People talk about an almost overwhelming attraction. It's like they can't help themselves."

"And?"

"Well, that's clearly what's happened to us. I never knew you existed and vice versa. We met and well...to put it crudely, we had the hots for each other. But we don't have to act on this. We can control ourselves."

Holly didn't say anything. Instead, she stood up and walked round the coffee table. She took the printed documents in Matt's hand and threw them onto the floor. Then she swung her leg over his and straddled him, sitting on his lap. Her skirt slid up, revealing her exposed, naked cunt. She wrapped her arms round his neck and kissed him full on the lips. For a moment, he sat there, rigid and restrained, but soon he was kissing her back.

After a minute or more of frenzied making out, she pulled back and smiled at him.

"Thanks for the little pep-talk, but I don't want to control myself," she whispered.

"Goddammit, Holly, this is wrong!"

"So? Fuck it. I want you and you clearly want me," she said, squirming around on his lap, rubbing her groin against the iron-hard mound of his dick.

"I'm married. I'm your father."

"The married thing does bother me," she said wistfully, "I love Eleanor, she's been so welcoming, almost like a second mother to me. The one thing that could deter me from doing this is knowing how much I'm betraying her."

"So..."

"But I want this too much. I want you too much. Frankly, the fact you're my dad only makes the whole thing, like, a million times hotter. It's crazy, if you suggested to me that I might fuck my dad - my dad back home, who brought me up and raised me as his daughter - I'd probably throw up. But the thought of doing it with you? Getting hot and naked and sweaty and letting you stick your cock inside my mouth, my cunt, my ass? Oh Godddd, that makes me so wet. It's such a turn on. And it feels like it's a bit of a turn on for you too."

As she spoke, she began to grind herself against him, his breathing becoming deeper and more frantic as she moved.

"So we just go and fuck?" He asked.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," she replied, "maybe it will be a bit icky and weird, maybe we'll hate it, but I think we both know it will be fucking incredible. Let's at least get it out of our systems, and we'll deal with the fallout afterwards. It's time for us to put up or shut up, don't you think?"

He looked up at her, staring deep into her eyes. Then his shoulders sank in defeat. He knew he wanted this too and he wasn't prepared to deny himself any longer. He brought a hand to the back of her head and pulled her forward, so they could kiss some more.

"I want to fuck you so much," he hissed into her mouth, between kisses.

She giggled and stood up, her skirt staying up round her waist.

"We'll do it in your bed," she said, "there's a lot more space for us to play. Give me five minutes."

With that she turned round and walked away. As she did so, she pulled off her crop-top and dropped it to the floor. He watched her walk off, her back and butt fully exposed. He caught a glimpse of the side of her large breasts almost bouncing up and down as she moved out of sight. He sat there, his dick straining against his trousers. He looked at his watch and waited.

A grand total of three minutes and twenty seven seconds later he bounded out of the room and headed to the stairs. He took them three at a time and reached the upper landing. Then he almost sprinted down towards the master bedroom, removing his t-shirt and trousers as elegantly as he could manage. He grabbed the door handle and pushed his way into the room.

Holly was lying on the bed, covered by a duvet. Her hair, which had been up in a ponytail, was now fanned out like a halo behind her. He stood at the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but his hipster shorts. He took hold of the elasticated waistband and rolled his underwear down his legs. Now he was stood in front of her completely naked.

"Wow, Daddy, if I knew you had such a big cock, I would have fucked you months ago! You could've had me on the desk in your office, the morning we first met."

Matt was a well-endowed chap and the situation had made him hornier than a teenager. His dick swung in front of him, as he walked round the side of the bed.

"Well, I've shown you mine, are you going to show me yours?" He asked.

Holly grinned and threw the duvet cover onto the floor. He gasped at the first sight of her in all her naked glory. She was a miracle in human form. A goddess. Just absolute physical perfection. He stood and examined her, drinking in her luscious curves. Her breasts were ginormous, full and epic in scale, with small, light pink nipples.

Her stomach was toned but soft. You couldn't see her abs or anything, and she had an adorable layer of puppy fat, but she was still slender. She had an amazing shape to her, a perfect hourglass, her body tapered into her waist, then ballooning out again at her hips. Her legs were long and shapely.

And her cunt? It was smooth and completely hairless, like a little girl's muff; a delicate cleft, her outer lips still closed, the tantalising delights within still kept secret.

"You're so beautiful, my darling princess," he said, his voice almost cracking with emotion.

"Thank you, Daddy," she replied, suddenly close to tears herself, "now come and get it."

She lifted up her arms to welcome him, as he climbed into bed beside her. He almost rolled on top of her, his chest pressing down onto her large breasts, as they kissed once more. Their bodies meeting, their skin touching. She wrapped her arms round his body, her hands caressing his broad, hairy back.

They rolled around on the bed, kissing frantically. There was something almost desperate about them, both of them giggling gleefully as they made out. For weeks, for months, they had shared this burning and perverted desire, this illicit mutual obsession. And for all that time they had - mostly - denied themselves. Now, the brakes were off. They were liberated in lust. Powerful, incestuous lust.

He pulled her on top of him, feeling her naked skin touch his. His dick was pressed back between them, and it pulsed up against her waist. He held her cheeks and stared up at her.

"I want you so much," he hissed.

"I know, I feel exactly the same," she replied.

They kissed some more. Deep, soulful, open-mouthed kisses, exactly the sort of kisses a father and daughter wouldn't usually share; their tongues rolling and swirling together, spittle and saliva dripping and trickling down their chins. He then kissed her nose, her cheeks, her forehead; a thousand little pecks, as if a cloud of sensual moths were swarming all over her face and shoulders. He licked her neck, just desperately breathing in the scent of her. He bit at her shoulder, wanting to feel the tension of her flesh beneath his teeth.

She whimpered and groaned as he kissed her, running her hands through his hair; her body heating up in excitement as they wriggled and squirmed on the bed together. She could feel his cock pressing up against her belly, feel it's hardness and it's power. Soon she would spread her legs and welcome him deep inside her, desperately wanting to experience that moment of penetration, of submission. She was going to be her Daddy's perfect little fuck-toy, she told herself.

I'll do anything he wants, she thought, he can have anything he wants. Any hole he wants. I can't say no to him. I won't say no to him.

Matt rolled them over until she was lying on her back. He pushed himself up for a moment and stared down, right at her tits. They were fat and luscious, full and meaty. Two prominent cones, swaying and trembling on her chest. Creamy white, with tiny blue veins and capillaries visible beneath the skin. He grabbed hold of one of them, wrapping it between his hands, before bringing his mouth to her nipple. This was a hefty tower of flesh, so he needed both hands to keep hold of it.

He began to suck and lick and chew on the small pink tip, tugging at it with his teeth. Then he consumed as much of her breast as he possibly could, his lips widening out until the skin stretched and ached. He could taste her against his lips and tongue, feel her flesh pushing into his mouth. With a gasp and a popping sound, he pulled his head back, her tit jiggling free, shining with moisture. He shifted his concentration to the other breast and performed a similar oral examination.

"Do you like my boobs, Daddy?" She asked.

"They're fucking incredible," he replied, "just like your mother's."

She shivered at the thought of it. She knew she had inherited her mother's physique - at least the physique she had once possessed before the cancer had diminished and reduced her - and she knew her mom had big tits. As a teenager, Holly had been desperate for her breasts to appear. She had been a late bloomer, rake-thin like a boy until she was about sixteen. Then, seemingly over the course of a single summer, her body had inflated like a balloon, and she was transformed.

She and her mom had been forced to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe, including a couple of sets of lingerie that Holly had promised not to tell her father about. Two women with pneumatic figures, one the product of the other. And Matt had already fucked one of them; in doing so, creating the other. There were very few men who had experienced a situation like this, and he was going to relish every moment of it.

Gradually, he moved down her body, kissing the skin below her breasts, tasting a delicate patina of sweat, before reaching her stomach. His tongue dwelled on her belly-button, probing inside. She giggled from the ticklish sensation. He gently stroked and caressed her skin, barely able to contain himself, desperate to simply feel the soft, silky texture of her flesh. She was flushed and emanating a scalding heat.

He rubbed his hands along her thighs, firmly grasping her legs, pushing them apart. She offered no resistance, keen to open herself up to this man, show him the delights on offer. This was her father and she wanted more than anything for him to see her cunt. Her now enflamed and throbbing cunt.