His Best Friend's Slutty Daughter

By Alana Church

Luke has watched his best friend's daughter grow up from a tiny baby to a devastatingly beautiful young woman. But when Mark asks him to check in on her while he and his wife are away on a vacation, he doesn't realize that the horny teenager has plans...for him! Because Candy is on the prowl, and Mark is about to be seduced by..."His Best Friend's Slutty Daughter!"

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“Hello? Anyone home?” His voice fell flat in the entrance hallway. There was no reply, except for the soft sigh of the central air. “God dammit,” he muttered. More and more, he did not want to be here. He felt like a thief, hoping that the cops wouldn’t show up before he could escape. “Where the hell is she? Candy,” he called, raising his voice. “It’s Luke. Are you home?”

He walked down the hall to where the house opened up, a living room on his right, a kitchen and dining room on his left. Behind him, a curving stair led to the second floor. The ceiling lifted high, giving more space.

And Luke stopped, stunned to mute incomprehension at the tableau which appeared before his disbelieving eyes.

I swear to God, he thought. This is not my fault.

In the living room Candy was lying on the couch, her eyes closed, gloriously naked. One leg was thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. The other hung over the edge, her toes brushing the carpet on the floor. From his angle, he could see up her legs to the lips of her cleft, which were shaved completely bare. On the flat-screen television against the wall, an adult movie was playing. From the looks, it had been going on for some time, and an older man was busily drilling a busty blond in an impossibly skimpy cheerleader outfit. Her happy squeals rang from the speakers, and her surgically-enhanced breasts wobbled with every thrust.

Candy’s are better, one part of him thought critically.

Go, the rest of his mind shouted at him. Go now. She hasn’t seen you. She didn’t hear you. She doesn’t know you’re here. There’s still time.

Still, he stood, entranced. Candy’s hands, which had been idly stroking the lower curves of her breasts, had wandered lower. Her thighs spread wide, and her fingers approached her nether-lips.

“Ah.” It was the merest breath, a tiny puff of air, but even from where he was, Luke could see the look of sensual delight that crossed his god-daughter’s face. The tips of the fingers of one hand moved in a slow circle, pushing down on the rise of her mons. The other hand crept lower, her fingertips brushing the unfurled lips of her womanhood, teasing the delicate petals. The fingers seemed to shake slightly, and as he watched, her breathing sped, causing the tanned mounds of her breasts to rise and fall more rapidly.

She was, quite simply, the most incredibly beautiful woman Luke had ever seen in his life. No centerfold, no adult movie, had ever brought him to such a fever-pitch of arousal. His shaft was an aching bar inside his jeans, and he wanted nothing more than to shove them down, leap on top of the goddess in front of him, and bury his manhood deep inside her. She would welcome it, he knew. He imagined the feel of her soft breasts filling his hands as he thrust into her over and over again-

No.

He found that he was shaking, his hands clenched, his body at war with his mind. With a strangled gasp, he sucked in a breath of air and closed his eyes.

No. He couldn’t do this. She was his best friend’s daughter.

With a monumental effort, he turned away. His feet felt like lead as he carefully stepped away, trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible.

And then a voice lanced out, burying itself in his heart, turning him effortlessly to stare, jaw dropping, at the girl on the couch.

“Well, Uncle Luke. Are you going to do me or what?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Apr 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370620234

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

His Best Friend’s Slutty Daughter

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2018 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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The Master of Ceremonies spoke into the microphone.

Ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention please, for the best man.

Luke Harrington rose to his feet and took the microphone, trying to hide his nervousness. He had planned this speech for weeks, and by God, he was not going to blow it.

He waited for a few seconds for the guests to settle down, then slanted a look at his best friend, seated to his right. At last, he drawled into the microphone, drawing out the last word as his amplified voice echoed through the banquet hall. "Revenge.

I don’t think I have to tell you the story about how Mark and I first met, he said. Several people, friends and relatives of the groom, nodded their heads, smiles breaking out on their faces. Mark has told it often enough. How I walked into my dorm room at the University of Illinois, on my first weekend away from home, to find Mark making out with his then-girlfriend – what was her name again? I mean, there were so many girlfriends during his college years. You had to give them numbers to keep track of them. Mark hung his head in mock-regret, and there was a low ripple of laughter. "And after I embarrassed him – by walking into my own room, I might add - he threatened to throw me out the window. He waved his hand as chuckles swept through the warm, crowded room. No matter.

Because all of that is a flimsy tissue of lies. To tell the truth – and I had to fight to get the Department of Defense to remove the classified portions, in order to make this speech – Mark and I met in the Ukraine, members of different Navy Seal teams who had been separated from their units after a particularly tricky mission had gone terribly awry. He shook his head sadly. He accused me – fairly, I have to admit – of jeopardizing the mission and putting both our lives at risk. But what was I supposed to do? When one is seduced by a beautiful but black-hearted double agent named Antonya Pulushskaya, who has shown you such incredible sexual delights as to make strong men weep…but I digress. He snuck a glance at the crowd, which was looking at him with various expressions of shock and incredulity. He couldn’t blame them. While he was over six feet tall, and kept himself physically fit, he resembled in no way, shape, or form a member of America’s military elite. And neither did Mark, who was an inch or so shorter than him, but with a lean, wiry build.

"I won’t bore you with the details of how Mark and I fought our way out of that man-made hell, in one of the most ingenious and daring prison escapes ever recorded, or how we fled across half of Europe, only half a step ahead of Putin’s agents. First, you wouldn’t believe it. And second, the Central Intelligence Agency would pay me an unpleasant visit if I started talking about it. So put it out of your minds.

"Of course, there was that unfortunate incident in Slovenia, with Mark and the goat…but I’m sure that was simply an unfortunate misunderstanding. I mean, he was in the barn. And yes, they were both naked. Well, of course the goat was naked. Have you ever seen a goat wearing pants? They look really silly."

He paused, pretending to fumble through his notes, then looked up.

"It’s at this part of the speech, I seem to remember, that I am supposed to toss in a few amusing stories about the groom, to make sure he is properly humble on his wedding night.

"But being a truthful person, who has no desire to embarrass Mark, I will simply state that I have no interest in giving him a hard time in front of his friends, his family, and a selection of complete strangers.

"At all.

"Honest.

"However, I will just touch over the way he grows insanely angry at anyone who drives more slowly that himself on the interstate, or his strange belief that he can practice sports bigamy by insisting that he can root for both the Cubs and the White Sox. A low grumble rose, mixed with laughter, and Mark’s new father-in-law looked at him sharply. Or about the fact that he thinks he could somehow hit a golf ball out of Comiskey Park with a seven-iron. He shook his head, a pitying look on his face. No, Mark. You can’t. I’ve seen you golf."

The laughter continued, rising higher, and he carried on, buoyed by their approval. "And in addition to the fact that he didn’t graduate high school, and doesn’t actually know how to read, I should probably tell you about the other tragic flaws Mark has as a human being. You can see