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Holly Wood's Stories

I Love You by Holly Wood

I Love You

Shafts of moonlight pierce the louvered shutters of the room like silver arrows. The songs of exotic birds erupt from the verdant bush outside the hotel room, along with the rush of water over rocks in the garden. There are random voices, people walking on the path beneath the balcony.

My senses, dulled by sexual arousal, detect a shadow moving in the distant reaches of the room. My son-in-law and I are wrapped in rumpled sheets, the two of us sprawled on the bed, feeling the warm humid air of evening in the Hawaiian islands. Fingers clasped around the shaft of Carlo's penis, I force my eyes to focus. My daughter Jan is sitting in a chair close to the bed, her eyes locked on me, a smile on her lovely face.

"I heard you making weird little noises," she says. "Little tiny mewing sounds." She mimics something like a kitten complaining to get out of a box.

"Jan," I say, moving my hand away from Carlo's still erect penis. "I am so sorry. I had too much to drink." I roll over and sit up, pulling the sheet tighter around my nakedness. I am aware that Carlo is sitting up beside me now, making no attempt to cover himself as he lights a cigarette.

"It's okay, Mom," she says, a tint of withheld giggles coloring her words. "Carlo put a little something in your drink when the two of you were at the bar. Just something to relax you." I notice now that she is partially undressed, panties and bra, garter-belt and hose, and incongruously, there is a lei around her neck.

"Something in my drink?" I say. "Why?"

"Just something to relax you," she says again. "You are relaxed, aren't you Mom?" My daughter is shimmering hair, and the magic gleam of moonlight dancing in amethyst eyes. She rises and moves to stand close beside the bed, her eyes still holding mine. "Carlo? Why don't you leave us alone for just a while?" I can feel the bed move as he rolls to his feet and pads away. She bends and strokes the side of my face with her hand.

"You've had a rough time these last few years with Dad gone. I thought you needed something... special," she says.

I can feel a cool breeze, and I can hear the rollers as they crash on the beach below, white foam glistening in the moonlight. Her hand lowers to grasp the edge of the sheet and begins to pull it down. I wonder for a fleeting moment if I should object, but there is nothing uncomfortable in this. It feels so right somehow, so I lay motionless as she peels the sheet away from my body until I am exposed again. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside me, she bends down and the soft whisper of her lips caress my own. As she kisses me, I look up into my daughter's eyes, dazed, wondering what is happening.

I am mesmerized by the glow in her face as she scrapes her tongue across my lips. As I suck her tongue into my mouth, my hands take on a life of their own. My palm cups over the lacy material that covers her breast, fingers gently squeezing as I slide my free hand down to the vee of my crotch. My mouth grows even hungrier for her tongue as I touch the wetness between my legs, and I hear myself whimper softly deep in my throat as she rips her mouth away from mine and stands. Still sensuously rubbing myself, I watch in awe as she removes her bra and panties, and my nostrils twitch as I smell the womanness of her. I am captured by the reality of my daughter's naked nearness. My hand moves more insistently between my legs, as she climbs up onto the bed to straddle my head. I am looking up at the tender bare flesh of her inner thighs, above nylon, to the pale fleshy lips of her cunt. It beckons me, and I lift my head to touch the moist flesh between her pale thighs with my tongue, my hands cupping the globes of her firm buttocks as I begin to lick her. Then she sinks, her lower regions pressing, the slick wet heat of desire moving, roiling, undulating ancient rhythms of bliss, my tongue seeking and searching as she moans somewhere far above my head. My mind a sudden sea of confusion, lust, and love. My lips, the edge of my teeth jagged at the swollen lips of her cunt. She arches her back, and between quick breaths of passion, grinding pelvis against my face, she pleads for the pleasure of her release...


We lay side by side on the damp sheets, her head nestled on my shoulder, the tip of one of her fingers foraging over my nipple, like searing heat. Her lips touch the side of my neck, then her voice is a muted whisper in my ear. "Before..." she asks, "...did Carlo fuck you, before?" She nibbles lightly at my ear lobe.

"Yes," I say. Then I laugh softly. "There must have been something in my drink." She giggles and slides her hand down from my breast, over the rise of my stomach, fingers curving into the hollow between my thighs.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes," I say, laughing, spreading my legs, unable to suppress a tiny gasp as her fingertip finds that special spot that so few males even know exists. Her lips are at my ear again, hot whispers of passion, laced with her husband's name. "Was it good? Was it good when Carlo fucked you? Do you like it when he fucks you? Do you want Carlo to fuck you again? Do you?"

There is a throbbing in my ears, as if I can hear the blood racing through my veins. My pelvis is moving against her hand and fingers, wantonly, whorishly. "Yes," I say, knowing instinctively that the words are what my daughter is craving now. "I loved it when your husband fucked me. I love the way Carlo fucked me. I want him to fuck me again."

She rolls over on top of me, looks down into my eyes as she squirms her belly against my own, her eyes glazed by lust, a mirror image of my own. Then she is scooting down, her tongue leaving a trail of wetness against my fevered skin. As she positions her head between my legs, I hook my legs across her shoulders, then close my eyes as her tongue begins its passionate exploration. I am surprised to hear someone moaning, even more surprised when I realize it is myself. My fingers entwine the blonde curls of my daughters hair as I pull her face deeper against me, encouraging, pleading. Then my eyes open as I feel a hand urging me to turn my head.

Carlo is standing close beside the bed, muscular, hairy, one hand at the nape of my neck, the other holding his penis, guiding the uncircumcised head to my lips. The masculine smell of him permeates my nostrils now, but I willingly part my lips to suck the bulbous head of his cock into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the shaft of his maleness, lifting a hand to cup gently at his sac as I suck him deeply and tenderly. It has been long. So very long.

I am aware of my daughter's mouth leaving, my hips arching in an attempt to recapture, already I miss the sensation of her tongue. Still holding Carlo's penis in my mouth, I am able to see her from the corner of my eye. Standing beside the bed, her eyes wide as she watches me sliding my lips up and down the length of her husband's cock, her hand busy between the alabaster paleness of her thighs as she watches. "Fuck her, Carlo...I want to see you fuck her," she says, her voice sounding thick and muted. I can hear music floating in the open window as he pulls his penis from my mouth and roughly pushes me down onto my back. Then his weight is upon my sex damp body, his hands urging my legs apart, grunting as he pushes his hardness against the swollen lips between my legs. My eyes meet with those of my daughter as he enters me, and her lips form the unspoken words "I love you...."


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