«Who's Our Daddy» by Kethandra Wilde

A loving, lusty family like no other finds answers and each other in a highly unusual way.


An airborne rattlesnake, a virgin birth, a drug-dealing motorcycle gang preacher, a century-old legend of a cannibalistic mountain man, and a legal marijuana festival all lead down a convoluted path toward taboo sexual encounters and a tangled weaving of unlikely family, lovers, and generations.


He had no idea that he had fathered two gorgeous flirtatious daughters many years before, especially not by two very different and very sexy women, and on the same eventful day.


The two girls, best friends and much more, had no idea that they were half-sisters sharing a father. Or that he was the stranger they teased unmercifully, offering him promises of erotic delight.


Now add in a reunion with his lifelong crush — a petite blonde beauty with more than one secret — and buxom redhead wielding a way with words.


No one could have predicted the incredible encounters and unlikely coincidences that landed them all together, or that their taboo discoveries would be just the beginning of even more lust-filled, forbidden family fun.


~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~


The previous neighbors had sold their house next door, moving back East somewhere. That had cost Martin and his parents the frequent use of the pool hidden behind the tall wooden fence. It had also cost him Chuck, his only good friend in the quiet cul-de-sac neighborhood.


Then the new purchasers of the house had roared in, literally. A double column of motorcycles, maybe twenty in total, followed by two rental trucks. Not Ninjas or whiny modern bikes, these were big, grumbling Harleys, throwing out deep vibrations that shook plates and windows inside houses up and down the street.


…


The women went inside, presumably to begin unpacking. The exception had been the one on her own Harley. She started barking orders, the hard-looking men jumping to her commands. She was less than half their size, smaller than any of the other women, but radiated authority. Other than her voice, and the respect she commanded, the only thing big about her was her chest: on her lean, muscled, but slight frame, those jugs struggling to free themselves from her tight, white, sleeveless shirt could not be confused for natural.


A huge man, the one who had led the pack of Harleys down the street, just stood, arms crossed, and watched, scowling below his mirrored aviator glasses. He was shaved bald, the only hair showing was a dark, pointed goatee flecked with grey. He saw Martin and his father and strode toward them, removing his glasses before hanging them on a chest pocket. As he got closer they realized just how big he really was.


“Tiger Willoughby.” He growled. Martin had hoped the face the giant made was a smile. “Pastor Tiger.”


Martin's father took the massive mitt offered, shook it. “Will Baumgartner. Did you say 'Pastor'?"


“Yes, sir. Just took over the old First Methodist building outside town.”


Even with one of the most unique people Martin had ever seen up close offering him a hand to shake, the young man's eyes and attention had been drawn past the man-mountain. Pastor Tiger twisted to see where he was looking.


A gorgeous blond girl, perhaps his own age, a flash of innocent color in this sea of threatening monochrome leather, had slid down out of the cab of the lead truck. Her sunshine-golden hair, white shorts over tan legs that ended in red canvas sneakers, and pink Hello Kitty t-shirt only accented the way her radiant smile lit up her dark, gritty companions. After a quick wave at the pastor and — Martin wanted to imagine — himself, she headed inside.


“Martin! Mister, err, Pastor…Tiger wants to shake your hand.” His father's voice brought him back. He'd reached out and found his hand squeezed in an enormous  vise.


“That's my daughter.” If either was possible, Martin's eyes had gone wider and Tiger's voice had grown more gravelly. “My only daughter.”


Martin's hand was still a prisoner.


“And whether a man believes in eternal damnation or not, if he treats that lovely girl with anything other than the utmost honor and respect, even casting lustful eyes her way,” squinty biker eyes stared into Martin's, then his father's, then back to Martin. “I promise he will become intimately acquainted with Hell on Earth.”


He had smiled wide, showing silvery reinforcements to several teeth. Martin's hand was finally released. “Nice to meet you, neighbors. Hope to see you at service Sunday.”