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 her husband’s
still erect penis. “I’m 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 loved the way Carlo fucked me. I
want him to fuck me again, please.”
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 daughter’s 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 me, 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….”