Selling It to My Best Friend's Dad (Selling It Book Two) by Amanda Clover

Author:Amanda Clover [Clover, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, Slut
Published: 2019-09-11T05:00:00+00:00

Truth or Dare

There were four of us staying down in the finished basement of Jasmine’s house. Her room was on the second floor, but we always hung out in the basement during sleepovers because there was so much more space, not to mention a refrigerator and a giant TV.

Besides me and Jasmine there was Becky, naturally, and Megan, this sort of ditzy blonde who used to be one of my best friends, but we had a fight over Terrance Crawford. He was her boyfriend and I stole him, but then I dumped him and he ended up going back with her. He moved Junior year so Megan was sort of drifting back to being our friends just in time for all of us to graduate and go off to college. I liked her and I was pretty sure she had forgiven me for everything that had happened with Terrance.

We were watching some trashy romance movie set during a war that had a lot of the main actor’s butt in it. Becky had smuggled in these fruity bottles of booze called Night Breezers, and she was eating most of the pizza Mr. Hadad had bought for us because the rest of us didn’t want the calories.

Also he bought it from Renaldo’s which is the crappy place around here that nobody likes, but I guess Mr. Hadad liked it and wanted a calzone or something. I was sort of out of it when we were giving him our pizza order because he kept staring at me real weird. Pretty sure he was thinking about my ass. It was why I had worn these tiny shorts for the sleepover. So short that Jasmine had told me her dad would freak out when he saw me in them. But he hadn’t said anything.

“Alright, truth or dare time,” said Becky.

The rest of us groaned, because this was Becky’s favorite game. She generated a month’s worth of gossip from one good game of truth or dare. Either we would give her some real juicy info or we would do something humiliating that she would not hesitate to spread around the school. She was a total sleepover code of silence breaker.

“You go first,” said Jasmine.

“Alright,” said Becky. “I will.”

I guess she brought booze. That was still relatively hard to get, but she had an older brother who was 21.

“Truth or daaare,” I said, kicking my feet and running my tongue inside the Night Breezer bottle in my hand. It tasted like tangerine.

“Truth,” said Becky, and her smug look reminded us all that Becky lived vicariously and had a rather boring life.

“Oh, no fair, I can never think of anything good for you,” moaned Jasmine, sliding dramatically off the couch and onto the floor.

“I’ve got one,” said Megan. “Freshman year. The wet chair in Mrs. Loomis’s class. Was that you?”

We all knew the incident. There was one empty desk during third period in Mrs. Loomis’s French class. One day when we showed up for class it was wet with what everyone believed was pee.

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