My Best Friend's Daughter

I’d known Holly her whole life. From the day my friend Rachel announced her shock pregnancy to the day eighteen years later when Holly moved out to college herself, she had been like a niece to me.

Rachel’s pregnancy came as a surprise for several reasons. We were in our final year of college; she’d never expressed any urge to have children; and - perhaps most significantly - the two of us were casually sleeping together and had been for years.

“Is it mine?” I’d asked, preparing for my whole life to change in a heartbeat.

“No.” And with that, the physical side of our relationship was over - the father was a friend of hers from the church she attended to keep her parents happy. To avoid any scandal, the two were married within months.

I didn’t dislike Will, but he was hard to warm to. We stayed friendly for Rachel’s sake, and because I wanted a relationship with their daughter. As it turned out, Holly needed me, too. Will wasn’t emotionally available enough to raise a child, let alone a girl, and over the years I watched their relationship go from frosty to outright hostile.

I, on the other hand, bonded with Holly immediately. I’d read her bedtime stories and babysit for her; as she got older I’d be there to listen when she had stories about boys and parties that she couldn’t or wouldn’t share with her emotionally-repressed father. We had a literal lifetime of memories.

And every single one of them came back to me simultaneously as a blonde lapdancer in red lingerie pulled back a curtain to reveal Holly, naked except for a studded choker, grinding against my colleague Ben and rubbing her breasts in his face.

I don’t do strip clubs, as a rule. I don’t do well in high-pressure sales environments and I really don’t like Strip Club Guys. But the main reason is that I hate how much I enjoy lap dances. So when my boss suggested a trip to the Sugar Factory to celebrate a big sale, I knew I’d end up caving.

The blonde dancer - ‘Candy’ - noticed that I’d turned my back on her and flirtatiously stroked my arm to get my attention.

“Come and sit down,” she said.

“I’ve, uh, changed my mind. Nothing personal. Here,” I said, handing her twice the listed cost of a one-song lapdance.

“Are you sure? Because for that money,” Candy said, grabbing my crotch, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh my God! Uncle Patrick?”

Holly’s dance was obviously over. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and could see she was dressed. Well, as dressed as a working stripper ever is - a strappy leather bikini top and matching hot pants, showing off what I was undeniably a beautiful body. Curvy hips and a slim waist, with big natural breasts that strained against the leather. I cursed myself for noticing as she walked over to me, making an effort to cover herself up with her arms.

Those eyes. She looked so much like Rachel.

“Holly, I’m sorry. I had no-”

“Please, call me Angel. I don’t want any of these guys knowing my real name.”

“Of course. Uh, Angel. If I’d known I would never have come. I’m going to leave and don’t worry, I won’t say a word to your parents.”

She laughed nervously. “Of course you won’t.. It’s you who probably ought to be worried” she smiled. She was right. Will was a born-again Christian with extremely traditional views about family and gender roles. He’d been horrified when Holly once came home from my house smelling of weed; learning that his daughter shows her tits to strangers for money might have just about killed him.

“Anyway, weren’t you about to get a dance from Candy? She’s the best.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m not really in the mood now.”

Holly put her arms around Candy’s waist and whispered something into her ear. She disappeared back through the curtain, leaving us alone. Holly grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the bar. She was served instantly, and handed me two tequila shots. We clinked shot glasses, then downed them.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a strip club guy,” She said. ”For a start you’re about ten years younger and ten years older than most of the lads who come here.” She smiled a brilliant white smile, framed by glittering black lipstick.

“It’s a work thing. Not my choice.”

“And Candy? Was that part of the assignment?”

I blushed. Judged by a nineteen-year-old. I shrugged.

“When in Rome…”

“At least it’s you,” she said, a tone of relief in her voice. “You’re about the only one of mum and dad’s friends who wouldn’t bundle me into a car and take me straight home.”

“We were all nineteen once, and all I care about is that you’re happy.”

I looked her in the eye.

“Are you? Are they treating you well? Do you enjoy it?”

“Well, it’s a lot safer than the bar I used to work in where even the manager groped us; I’m making more money than most of my friends in office jobs. And,” she leaned in and whispered into my ear. “I get to turn guys on while they sit there, unable to-” she trailed off, suddenly conscious of who she was talking to.

“Sorry. Slight overshare. But yes, I love it.”

“Good. Because let me tell you - whatever your parents might think of this, your mother was not making wholesome Christian decisions for the three years that we lived together.”

Holly looked at me askance.

“Did you and mum ever…”

“Oh no, young lady. Rachel doesn't need to know about this, and you certainly don’t need to know about what she got up to twenty years ago.”

Holly ordered four more tequilas, and we drank four more tequilas. She thought for a moment before saying what we were both thinking.

“Bit fucking weird, this, isn’t it?”

“I’m struggling to think of anything more weird, really.”

Holly turned to me. She was smiling, but in a deeply suspicious way.

“Oh, I know how to make it more weird,” she said. “But I doubt you could handle it.”

“Try me.”

She took my arm and walked me over to the dance area. They’re so strange. Cheap couches where customers sit down - hands strictly flat by their sides- and have girls strip naked on their lap, sitting perhaps half a foot from the next guy doing the same.

Holly sat down and patted the seat next to her, indicating that I should join her. I did, but she immediately jumped back to her feet, leaned over me and put my arms out to my sides. The unmistakable, Indian-influenced introduction to Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’ blasted out of the speakers above us and Holly started to dance in time with it. The movement of her hips was hypnotic.

“Still think you can take it?” She asked. Her eyes, so familiar to me, had taken on a new quality. There was a sparkle in them that made my heart start beating faster. Once again, I saw her mother. The teenage Rachel. The one that got away.

“Actually Holly, I, uh,” I mumbled nervously. “You know, your parents and -”

She put her finger to my lips to shush me, and leaned into my ear once more.

“Be honest: do you like my Dad?” She looked me in the eye.

I didn’t say a word, but my face gave me away.

“Well,” she said. “Just imagine how he’d feel about this.”

She span around to face away from me and started to shake her ass- only half-covered by the leather - to the beat. One step back and she was sat over my legs, twisting her hips into me. She leaned back, pressing her body into mine, her head on my shoulder.

“Remember the time I brought that joint over and Dad assumed you’d given it to me?” She was half-whispering into my ear, her breath making my skin shiver with excitement.

“He tried to ban me from seeing you after that.”

Her ass was moving in circles against my crotch. The most confusing erection I’d ever felt started to swell, pushing against her.

“Get this,” she slid to her feet, then turned around and straddled me, putting her arms around my neck as she leaned back in.

“He thinks you’re a bad influence.” She emphasised “you’re” by grinding into me and rubbing right up against the growing bulge. When she felt it, she giggled and slowed her rhythm, gently rocking herself against me until she could feel I was fully hard.

She looked into my eyes, visibly proud of her achievement. She stepped to the floor and stood in front of me.

“So, this is the part where I usually take off my clothes.”

“No!” I shouted, totally panicked. The other dancers looked at me, bewildered. I lowered my voice.

“I … that was fun. Uh, thank you.”

“Thank you? For the hard-on?”

I was speechless.

“I’m a professional,” She continued. “Just doing my job.” She was still moving in time to the song as she slipped the leather bikini off her shoulders.

“And you’re a customer who happens to be a friend.” She was topless now, her breasts swaying as she danced.

“And I treat my friends well.”

She dropped to the floor, ass-up, and slid off the hot pants revealing her thick, shapely ass. She lifted her leg into the air and then turned it towards me so I could see all the way up to her completely bald pussy.

I felt like I was having an out of body experience as she climbed back into my lap and pushed her breasts into my face.

They were perfect - round and wide, but perky, with proportionately large nipples. In spite of myself, I was overcome with an urge to suck them. She must have seen the look in my eye, because she quickly whispered

“Not here. Strict rules.”

She sat back on my knees and I felt her hand on my cock. She winked.

“Strict rules for you, anyway.”

The song ended and Holly reassembled her outfit.

“I do need some customers tonight. I had fun though. Will you stick around til we close?”

“When’s that?”

“About two hours. I’ll make sure you drink for free.”

I opened the curtain, and she added

“Oh, and I’ll make sure your colleagues are jealous as hell.”

I rejoined my boss at our table. Of course, everyone wanted to know why I’d been gone so long so I pretended I’d had dance after dance.

This won me some toxic machismo points. But it was nothing compared to what happened five minutes later, when Holly appeared at the table.
She handed me two bourbons and said loudly

“These are on the house.”

Before I could take a sip, she pushed me back in my chair and sat in my lap again as my workmates stared in envy.

“And so’s this.”

Holly leaned back and put her arms around my neck, giving me a perfect view of her cleavage as she pushed her hips into me, grinding up and down my cock. It could have lasted one minute or one hour, I was so barely present.

She kissed me on the cheek and then disappeared to go and arouse some other random dudes. I picked up my drink and practically downed it in one. I wasn’t sure where the night was going but I was pretty sure I couldn’t process it sober.

Two hours later, as the last customers left the club, Holly reappeared. She looked more like the Holly I knew, wearing an over-sized hoody as a dress.

“I’m off the clock. What are we going to do?”

“It’s 3:30AM and I’ve been drinking free whiskey all night,” I said. “Thank you, by the way.”

Holly sighed and made an exaggerated sad face.

“Holly, I’m almost 40! My after-party days are behind me.”

“Do you have any drinks at your place?”

“Among other things, yes.”

One taxi ride later, I was pouring drinks I knew I’d regret in the morning as Holly went through my vinyl collection alternately saying “Ooh” and “Oh as if!” She picked out an instrumental soul record, and the sounds of saxophones and smooth bass filled the house.

“So what are those other things you mentioned?” She asked, as I handed her a vodka soda.

I opened the small drawer in my kitchen where I keep my party favours.

“Break glass in case of emergency, huh?” Holly laughed.

“I have weed, a little mdma, and apparently someone left some coke here last weekend too.”

“Obviously coke. Don’t want you falling asleep on me, old man.”

Several lines of what turned out to be extremely good blow later, Holly was dancing in the living room and reeling off the various trivial dramas of a nineteen-year-old’s life. Two-faced friends; over-involved parents; terrible boyfriends.

“I like porn as much as anyone,” she was saying, “But the choking thing is out of control. Every boy I’ve slept with has at least asked. I wouldn’t mind if just one of them knew how to eat pussy properly.”

She stopped suddenly, and broke out into laughter as she realised how much she was over-sharing, and to whom. She blushed. I reassured her.

“Given the way tonight has gone, I think we’re well past embarrassment. You having bad sex with idiots pales in comparison to ‘lap dance from your friend’s daughter’”.

Holly grinned. “It was pretty hot though. Right?”

“I plead the fifth. And also whatever amendment refers to … ah…’

“Getting an erection?”

We both laughed.

Holly joined me on the couch, putting her legs over mine.

“Be honest,” she said. “How long have you wanted to see me naked?”

“Hand on heart, it never once crossed my mind.”

“So you don’t think I’m attractive?” She looked disappointed.

“That’s not what I said…”

Holly sat up, pivoted her hips and bent her legs so that she was straddling me again. She put her arms around my neck and sat into my lap, pressing her cheek against mine so I could feel her breath as she spoke.

“Ever thought about me while you were wanking?”
“Never,” I whispered. She pressed her crotch into mine and began to slowly roll her hips.

“You’ve never thought about what it would be like to fuck me?”

“Honestly, no.”

Despite the drugs, I could feel blood rushing to my shaft as she pushed against me. Holly felt it too.

“Are you thinking about it now?” It was all I could think about.

“No comment.”

“My job is to make people horny,” she purred. “And I’m good at my job.”

“You are doing it for free during your downtime,” I quipped, trying to keep the mood light. “No such thing as too much practice I guess.”

“Practice?” She gasped, mock-offended. “I’ll show you practice.”

She leaned back and lifted both legs almost completely straight up, for just a second. Enough time for her underwear to smoothly slide up them and fly off her foot as she brought them back down.

“THAT takes practice.”

She savoured the shocked expression on my face. By now I was completely hard, the erection pressed into my leg as she rubbed herself up and down it. I felt my skin getting wet through the fabric and realised she was getting herself off too.

Holly slid off my lap to help herself to another line of coke, leaving a soaking wet patch on my clothes. I kneeled down to join her at the coffee table and the drugs triggered a dopamine rush that destroyed whatever remained of my inhibitions. I stood up.

“I’m going to change into something a bit less…wet,” I told her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied from the carpet. “Just take them off.”

Kneeling on the floor, she was at my waist level and before I knew it she’d unclipped my pants and pulled them to my ankles. My fitted boxers held my still-raging hard-on at bay, but Holly got a good look at it before turning back to the coke.

“Lap dancing, drugs, undressing older men,” I said. “Your dad would be furious.”

“Now you’re just trying to turn me on,” she sighed.

“I’ve got a wet patch that says that ship has already sailed.” I laughed.

“What can I say? You’ve got a nice cock. Don’t read too much into it.”

I noticed the complete silence - the music had stopped.

“Besides,” she continued. “Cocaine, vodka, undressing in front of a teenager. Maybe Dad’s right about you.”

We both laughed, and I went to the turntable and flipped the record. As the smooth soul started, the sexual tension in the room thickened further.

Holly was laying half-on the sofa, her legs hanging off the edge and wide apart. I crouched down for one last bump, turned my head and found myself gazing at her pussy. I could have looked away instantly, or pretended I hadn’t noticed. But I just stared.

She slid forward until her ass was on the very edge of the sofa. I could see her pussy so clearly - flushed red with arousal, her neat little clit just begging to be licked.

“See something you like?” She asked.

“Don’t read too much into it,” I replied.

“You’ve got five minutes. But if I’m not feeling it, I’m finishing myself.”

She put her legs around my head and pulled my face into her lap.

There aren’t many things in life I know I’m good at, but eating pussy is one of them. I love it. And at this point I have decades of experience doing it.

I ran my tongue over the sensitive skin between her thighs, slowly working my way up to her clit. Using the tip, I started to lick it - gently at first, increasing the pressure until I was pressing it as my tongue moved in circles. She was already so wet that when I softly pressed a finger against the lips of her pussy, it slipped inside her. I curled the tip and stroked the spongy skin of her g-spot in time with my tongue, building her orgasm from inside and out.

I’d had my tongue on Holly’s clit for less than two minutes when I heard her saying “Oh shit… fuck, fuck, fuck” under her breath. My mouth and chin were covered with her cum. It was time for the coup de grace - I closed my lips over her and, my tongue still flicking it, began to suck her clit.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t -” Holly was cut short by her own body, losing her breath as she lurched upwards.

I felt her orgasm before I heard it, her pussy tightening around my finger. She screamed, an involuntary squeal, as she bucked and pulled away from me. I stood up; she was lying on her side. Her whole body was shaking.

I sat next to her and stroked her hair as she recovered. Holly. Holly who I’d taken camping, and had to stand guard outside the tent in case any monsters came. Who’d proudly presented me with an incomprehensible piece of pasta artwork called “my favourite uncle”.

Sweet, little, innocent Holly. Whose hand was now sliding under the waistband of my underwear. Holly, on her front now, leaning over my lap and pulling them off me. Holly whose tongue was on the tip of my cock, massaging it until I was fully hard. She had her mother’s eyes.

Those eyes were level with mine now, as she unbuttoned my shirt. She raised her arms and I lifted the hoodie up and over her head, revealing that incredible body.

Holly was sat astride me once more, her breasts in my face. I took her tiny pink nipple into my mouth and stroked it with my tongue and felt her hand on my cock. She held it firmly and stroked herself, rubbing me against her lips until I was as wet as she was. I felt the light resistance of her opening before I was engulfed by warmth, her grip tight on my shaft as she moved down it.

She stopped halfway, and squeezed me between her lips.

“Do you want me to keep going?” She asked.

I barely managed to moan a response. “Y…yes…”

“Then tell me: did you used to fuck her like this?”

“... who?”

A filthy smirk crept over her face.

“My mother.”

I froze. Holly’s eyes - Rachel’s eyes - bored into mine. She slowly began to let me slide out of her.

“Please, don’t…” I sounded pathetic.

“Then answer the question.”

I took a deep breath.

“No.”

Holly looked at me in disbelief, then let me fall out of her as she got to her feet. I grabbed her waist tightly with both hands and turned her sideways on, then pulled her towards me. Hard enough that she lost her balance and tumbled back to the couch, face-down. I leaned over and pinned her down with one hand, pushing her into the couch. With the other, I pulled her legs slightly open, and lowered my body onto hers. My mouth by her ear now.

“She preferred it like this.”

I pushed my cock into the gap between her thighs, straight back through her tight, wet lips. I let her savour the head entering her slowly, as if to tease her. But no.

Holly cried out in shock as I thrust hard, burying myself in her, the tight heat like nothing I’d ever felt before. I fucked her slowly and deeply. The way Rachel used to like it.