Falling for My Dad's Best Friend Read online

  Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend

  ~An Erotic Romance~

  © 2017

  By Cassandra Dee

  Want to hear about my newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/cgt2DD and get a FREE BOOK unavailable elsewhere!

  © 2017 Cassandra Dee

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  TRIPLE PRINCES

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  RELATED BOOKS

  DEDICATION

  For all the little girls who like their temperatures checked the back way.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mandy

  “Oh crap,” I muttered, stumbling to the cabin. My family has a place in the Poconos, something my grandparents left us after they passed. Each year, we come here to swim, relax, and generally have a good time in each other’s company.

  Except I’d just stepped in some unnamed gunk on the path to the front door. Typical Mandy. I’d only just gotten here and my shoe was already soiled with some brownish green slime, gooey and godawful smelly. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Hopefully it wasn’t raccoon business or anything like that, but knowing my luck, it probably was.

  So tiptoeing gingerly, I made my way to the cabin, pounding on the solid wood door.

  “Mom, Dad!” I called out. “Open up, I’m out here, I need some help!”

  But the door remained steadfastly shut, and I sighed again. I guess my parents hadn’t made it up yet, Linda is known to dawdle while packing, even if it’s just for a weekend in the woods.

  So I limped around to the side of the cabin and looked for a hose, a rock, anything. Oh there it was. The green snake was wound neatly in a coil, and I pulled on it gently. With my other hand, I gingerly turned on the spout, but it was no good, there was no give. With a grunt, I twisted a little harder, and suddenly a gurgle rang out, then a hiss and a godawaful unexpected burst of water splashed from the hose, dousing me, making me sputter and choke.

  “Ergh!” I shrieked, trying to get the thing away from me. Much good that did. As I dropped the hose, it fell to the floor twisting and turning like a live eel, spraying me even more.

  “Ergh! Uck!” I sputtered more, making a dive for it. Holy shit, this thing was out of control and it was like trying to capture a slippery fish with my bare hands. But after grasping and wrestling for a full minute, finally, I got my hands on the hose and managed to point it away from me and into some shrubbery. With my other, I jerked the spout emphatically, stopping the water from blasting like fireworks.

  And then I collapsed, panting. It was classic Mandy. Soaked to the bone, I was a bedraggled wet rat. My t-shirt and shorts clung to my body like second skin, hair plastered to my skull as rivulets ran into my eyes, making me blink blearily, waterlogged and dazed in the sudden stillness after the water fireworks. But this is just life as Mandy. Every minute is filled with hazards, and sad to say, getting some type of poop on my shoe and then getting doused with water was simply par for the course.

  So gingerly, I got up. Yep, water squelched in my sneakers, it felt so gross, and I shivered uncontrollably despite the fact it was a sunny day. Damnit, I was gonna have to get changed immediately, otherwise a cold was coming my way, and squelching all the way to my car, I popped open the trunk to lift out my bag.

  Quickly, I rummaged through the duffel and fished out another t-shirt and some polka-dotted shorts. Perfect. They didn’t match at all, but I was way beyond that point. Even if I looked like Riddles the Clown, dry was better than wet, and with quick fingers, I peeled off the t-shirt, shivering as it pulled away from my skin. Goose bumps pimpled and I dropped the offending garment on the floor with a plop. Then I kicked off my sneakers, and with a quick snap of my fingers, undid the denim shorts. Trying to hold the fabric away from my body, I wriggled out of the wet material, dropping the sopping mess where it lay.

  But unexpectedly, my bra and panties were soaked through as well. Shit, I’d have to switch everything up. Reaching into my bag, I fumbled for a bit before coming up with lacy little nothings, a pink wisp of a bra and a matching panty set. Perfect. Looking around quickly, I scanned to see if there was anyone in the forest. Oh my god, there was a slight rustle, and panicked, I covered my boobs with my hands, unsure whether to go further.

  But after ten seconds of waiting, there was no more sound. It was probably just that raccoon whose doo-doo I’d stepped in, it was nothing. So turning back to the car, slowly, I undid the snap of my bra in back, letting the cotton straps slide down my shoulders until my girls were bare. Holy cow, they looked happy to be out in nature. The huge white hills swayed and jerked, my pink nipples stiff to the touch from the cold water.

  But right, this was no time to dilly-dally. I dropped the bra on the floor and then with swift fingers, rolled my panties off my hips until they too were a wet pile at my feet. Another crackle rang out from the forest behind me, and I turned again swiftly, this time alarmed, brown eyes wide.

  My skin prickled a bit, hotly aware, and my breath caught in my chest. What if someone had seen my strip show? What if someone was looking at me, even now? God, it’d be so embarrassing, I was huge, curvy, everything hanging out at the moment.

  But right, only silence. So slowly, I reached down for my dry clothes. There was another audible crackle behind me, this time louder, and my head snapped on my neck this time like the girl from The Exorcist. Panicked, I clutched my clothes to my chest, but it did no good because my pussy was bare, and besides, someone in back of me could see everything. They’d see the pinkness
, the sweet, naughty flesh between my legs, untouched by man up until now.

  But again, it was just my imagination playing tricks. Silly me! So this time, I didn’t hesitate for a second. With swift fingers, I slipped into the dry t-shirts and shorts, quickly bundling my wet things into a ball, and with bare feet, gingerly made my way to the cabin. Shit, where was the spare key? I checked the flower pot and under the doormat. Shit, shit, shit, where had Ray and Linda hid it this year? Digging through a pile of leaves under the window, I searched futilely.

  But suddenly, I remembered. In my drenched state, I’d momentarily forgotten that Robert, my dad’s best friend, was coming on this vacation, and my parents had given him the spare. Oh shit, shit. Robert was a hunky, gorgeous older man that I’d had a crush on for ages, and he’d be arriving any minute. A flush ran through me, body going hot with awareness, warm and gushy inside. With self-conscious fingers, I tried to comb my hair into some sort of style, but it was futile. The brown curls hung in limp tendrils, sticking to the sides of my face even as I tried to fluff them out. My make-up was smeared for sure, and god knows, there were wet spots on my clothes, sticking to me in the most awkward places. Oh god, Robert was coming, Robert was coming … and as usual, I looked like a little girl, someone he’d never be interested in.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Robert

  I didn’t mean to look. It just happened. I’d pulled up to the Jones’s driveway, Porsche humming quietly. Bending down to pick up something from the passenger side, I hadn’t thought twice. But looking up, suddenly Mandy was there, in those short as shit shorts and too-tight tee.

  Shit. Mandy. Mandy, my buddy’s daughter, for crying out loud.

  When she was a kid, it was fun and games. I’d take the little girl to play tennis, we’d go swimming in the pool together, do all sorts of favorite-uncle type stuff.

  But then Mandy grew up. Last time I saw her had been her high school graduation, and it’d been awkward. Awkward in a touchy-feely yet fucking awesome kind of way. Because I’d shown up at the Jones’s house, graduation gift in hand, and the girl who opened the door was no longer Mandy Candy or Mandy Pandy. She was Mandy the Mancatcher. I could hardly breathe, chest going tight, cock suddenly aching.

  “Hi Mr. Parker, is that for me?” she smiled sweetly, reaching for the box. Frozen, I let her take it from my arms. Because those big brown eyes were doe-like, huge and innocent, yet knowing just the same. And other parts of her were singing to my body, making my temp go up about a million degrees. Mandy wore a dress, for one, which was totally out of character. What the fuck? The girl I knew was always dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, brown curls short, more like a boy than a girl sometimes.

  But the new Mandy was a completely different game. This Mandy was wearing some purple thing that hugged huge tits, big, juicy, the kind that a man could suckle for ages. What the hell? When the fuck had this happened? When had she grown giant gazongas, succulent, tempting, the kind to make a man cry?

  And oh shit, oh shit, but that dress showed off a narrow waist, plus huge hips that swayed as she turned to lead me into the house. I watched like a man transfixed, eyes grazing the curves of that ass, the round bounciness that went up and down, beckoning me, making me stiff as fuck. But this wasn’t the time. This was her graduation party for crying out loud, and my stiffie was sorely out of place, the hardness achy and painful despite the fact that I hadn’t said a word to the girl yet.

  But it was like the brunette could read my mind. Turning back to look at me over her shoulder, she shot me a coy glance.

  “Coming, Mr. Parker?” she asked sweetly. “Everyone’s in the living room.”

  And adjusting my crotch as discreetly as possible, I growled out an answer.

  “Yeah, be right there, let me grab a beer first.”

  Almost limping to the kitchen, I shoved my way into the empty room, literally bending over, hands braced on the counter as I keeled forwards with agony and ecstasy at once. Shit, my hard on was so fucking obvious, the front of my pants like a flagpole, cock so stiff it practically poked out of the waistband. What the fuck was wrong with me? This was my best friend’s little girl for crying out loud, a sweet thing who’d I’d taught to swim, right here in their backyard. Mandy was eighteen, innocent, and trusting, and yet so much more now.

  Because I’m a guy who knows women. Shit, I’m forty-five and women have been throwing themselves at me since I was fifteen. So yeah, that’s thirty years of females non-stop, young and old, married and single, all sorts of chicks dying to get a taste of Rob Parker. And I can tell when a woman wants it. I can tell when she’s ready for it, when she’s ripe, singing a siren song with her body. And this little chickadee before me was singing out loud, volume on max. Those brown eyes, the way her sweet lips puckered, the sway of her ass. They called to me, a female beckoning to her male, letting him know she was in heat.

  And I’m an alpha who takes. I don’t hold back, there’s no reason to. I live the good life, with plenty of money, shit, the money practically makes itself now. So that leaves me with options galore, and right now, I knew exactly what I wanted, exactly what would get my goat. I wanted to throw Mandy over the couch, bend her over and make her take it, cock in her bottom, her pussy, her mouth, anywhere that curvy eighteen year-old body could fit. Because shit, teen pussy is tiny and I’m fucking big. Hell, some of my girlfriends were barely out of their teens when we started dating, and trust me, there’s a big difference between old puss and young. It’s in the elasticity, the tightness of their twat, the flow of their nectar. I love it new when it’s fresh and juicy, like sinking your dick into a ripe peach.

  And Mandy wanted it, I could tell. There was something about her, hell, it could even be hormones, it could be vibes, or maybe it was just the scent of that sweet cunt, slippery and wet. I can smell a woman in heat from a million miles away, and shit, but the brunette was coated in pussy scent, walking around like a living aphrodisiac, hungry and begging for dick.

  But this wasn’t the place. This wasn’t the time. This was Mandy’s graduation party for crying out loud, and her parents were in the house, plus a million other people I didn’t know. Get it together for fuck’s sake, I growled to myself. Get it together, tuck that stiffie back in.

  So taking a couple deep breaths, I adjusted my crotch and strategically held a beer bottle in front of my waist. But there was no hiding the fact that I had a major problem, so I hung out in the kitchen for a while, biding my time, willing the damn thing to go down. But despite thinking about the desert, a stiff shot of bourbon, anything to get my mind off Mandy, it fucking didn’t work. Because my mind went crazy, imagining that curvy body bent over, legs spread, beckoning to the pinkness within.

  But this is no way to think of your best friend’s little girl. Ray and I have a long history, going all the way back to college when we were frat brothers getting drunk and banging chicks every night. It rocked back then, and I’d be on it like a light if Ray wanted to do it again. But the problem is that there was a new girl on my radar, and I wanted her bad. I was desperate to get my dick into that sweet teen cunt, and the issue was that it belonged to my best buddy’s daughter. What the fuck? I was such a fucked-up motherfucker, I didn’t deserve to be alive, thinking these thoughts. But the images wouldn’t stop whirling through my brain and without a doubt, I knew something for sure … Mandy was gonna be mine, dad’s best friend be damned.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mandy

  I tapped my toe impatiently, sitting on the stoop in front of the cabin. Where was Mr. Parker? We were supposed to meet at noon, and now he was a full thirty minutes late. I sighed again and looked around. Well, I guess there are silver linings because at least I was dried out now, no more embarrassing wet patches, although my hair was still a mess. I’d futilely tried to put on some make-up, but it was impossible. I was still me, plain ole Mandy.

  Well, I’m kind of me. Because the Mandy of the past, the little girl with a straight, ruler-like body has disap
peared, and a curvy woman has taken her place. I’m not sure how it happened, but Mom says it practically a rite of passage for all the Jones women. We look like boys until we’re almost twenty, and then overnight, poof! We become full-figured goddesses.

  Because I’m not small, or even medium-sized. I’m curvy. Huge. Junk in the trunk, bumpin’ rumps, all the good stuff. I’ve got great big sassy Double Ds, and hips that swing as wide as a ship. And as for ass? Beyonce and Kim Kardashian have nothing on me, I could balance a tray back there, serve a meal off my back cheeks if I had to.

  So yeah, little girl Mandy is gone, and the new me looks completely different. But while I’m changed on the outside, on the inside it’s still Amanda, shy and awkward, more than a little socially unaware. I’m not sure how to behave a lot of the time, stammering and blushing even while my body’s telling a different story.

  Take my graduation party last year for instance. Mom begged me to wear a dress, and I’d balked. I don’t know, dresses aren’t really me, I’m more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, maybe something with a cute slogan like “Girls Rock!” So a dress was the furthest thing from my mind, and when my mom whipped out a purple thing from a bag, I’d balked, shaking my head.

  “Mom, no way, I can’t,” I muttered, looking away. “I’ll show too much skin.”

  Linda clucked.

  “No honey,” she reprimanded. “You can’t wear jeans and a t-shirt for your own graduation party, it’s not appropriate. And what’s wrong with this dress?”

  I admit, the dress wasn’t a sexy cocktail number or anything like that. It’s just that it was purple, or violet more accurately. And it was swishy and sway-y, stopping a couple inches above my knee with a deep scoop neck. I couldn’t wear that. My girls would come tumbling out and even a small breeze would lift that skirt in a second, showing off my tiny panties and thick thighs.