("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text ----------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2014. Please do not remove the author information nor make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. ----------------------------------------------------- One Standard Friday, with Pizza by Quiller (no address provided) *** Just a day in the life of your average family. Nothing exceptional, hardly worth reading. Oh yes... highlight of the day: pizza. (MFmf, ped, family, inc, bi, intr) *** 0700 The alarm clock buzzes its insistent, angry tone into the dreams of Mr. Alan Cooper and his wife, Catherine. There is a slow and drowsy reaction as Alan gropes ineptly for the off switch. Catherine experiences that 'when-am-I-?' few seconds as memory struggles to latch onto the correct temporal co-ordinates... ah yes, Friday... the morning off today... the weekend ahead... visits (maybe) to the in-laws... visits (for sure) to the clothes shops. Friday. The weekend. The couple tumble out of bed, Alan heading for the shower to be followed by dressing for work and breakfast. Catherine wraps a dressing gown over her nightdress, her normal mode when work is scheduled for the afternoon and she needs first to act as Kitchen Director for the family. On her way downstairs, she passes a hallway window and takes in without close inspection a dreary but fairly typical damp and rainy, late autumn day. The clouds are heavy and light levels are not high, with dawn having arrived only half an hour earlier. All totally normal. 0720 The sound of Alan's tread on his way down the stairs to join her echoes through to the kitchen where Catherine has just finished scrambling his eggs. Alan always has scrambled eggs on Friday, mixed with a heavy dosing of butter, despite doctors' warnings about cholesterol levels. It's a habit he picked up during his childhood and has never been able - or wanted - to break. Habits are a weakness with Alan. They tend to rule him and find little by way of counteracting drive or dynamism to inhibit their reign. As per standard of a Friday, Catherine's choice is beans on toast. She forgives herself the minor indulgence as the beans are, after all, of the low sugar/salt variety and also constitute one of her 'five a day'. Together with her fruit juice, she thinks this is a pretty healthy start to the weekend (as she insists on viewing Friday despite the session of work at the office still to be done later). As the pair sit down at the kitchen breakfast table, plates in hand, muffled thumps and yells from upstairs betoken the usual morning dual for bathroom rights between teenage siblings. Catherine glances at her husband and sees an answering smile. Nothing is spoken but each wonders, in a vague way, who the victor has been on this particular morning and who will therefore show first for breakfast. All completely par for the course. 0735 It's adolescent, freckled and mischievous Wendy, she of the impish smile. Triumphing over her older brother at that particular game has become something of a badge of honour. She takes a special delight, once the bathroom door has been firmly bolted, in taking her time over the smallest details and even singing out loud to provoke him. She knows that this time edge will allow her to get in amongst the breakfast cereals first. Beating him downstairs to breakfast despite the time penalties imposed by training bras, hair drying and the application of the few school-permitted cosmetic touches will always raise her spirits of a dismal, dark morning. She exchanges pleasantries with her parents who ask in a none-too-interested way what the school day holds in store. She answers that there's nothing special but that she is looking forward to French. It's true - but rather than the lesson she's actually looking forward to seeing Mr. Stevens, the new French teacher. Wendy has a new crush almost every week at the moment, or so it seems to the family. If it isn't someone at school, then it's some boy band moron or a 'celeb' in the media. Nothing new there, then... 0745 16-'nearly 17' Gary is therefore last to appear. He of the rugged, good looks, the apple of his mother's eye, has been spared the worst excesses of teenage acne and is actually quite a pin up. Catherine knows he has had a string of serious and non-serious girl friends and that there is probably a waiting list of others yet to try their luck with him. As yet, none of them seem able to keep his interest too long. Maybe the problem is that what he has in charm and looks is torpedoed by what he lacks in resolution and organisation - Wendy may wear a brace around her smile but she is actually already an altogether more on-the- ball person than big brother. His rushed arrival is broadly simultaneous with his father's departure. As his son goes about the inept and somewhat haphazard preparation of something edible in a bowl, performed to a stream of minor taunts from his sister, Alan is realising that, as usual, the Friday traffic will be that touch more testing. And as usual, yes, he is realising this somewhat belatedly. Catherine loves her husband dearly and this is reciprocated. He still has his boyish charm - something which has passed down to Gary. His slight befuddlements and increasingly apparent weakness of character are endearing features in her eyes. She would not have him any other way. All right, these matters will probably ensure that, having reached 43, his career will only probably follow at best the distinctly non-meteoric path it has described so far. She does not mind. Nor does she mind the fact that she is shouldering an ever greater load in directing the family's affairs. Her own job, whilst only part time at the moment, also contributes to the family income and is likely to expand in imprtance. They are comfortable. And paying down the mortgage. And saving to help the kids through university. Alan's outward progress, hastily donned raincoat and all, is stopped short just before the front door as his wife envelops him in a warm embrace. Love is written plain on both faces as kisses are planted. 'See you, love.' 'Hope you get a seat on the train.' On his drive to the station, Alan feels troubled. This is not provoked by the less than clement weather, the queues of traffic or the dreary train commute lying in wait for him. No, unlike most people he just doesn't like Fridays. There's an unpredictability about what may happen at work on Fridays... and he is none too keen on that. Work generally is becoming a difficult arena for him. He finds his office workplace gradually filling with more dynamic and assertive types whose arrogance, as he likes to see it, he finds difficult to counter. Still, get through the day and he'll be home in the bosom of his family with all the weekend ahead. He bucks up at the thought. A family man to his core, Alan can't wait to shut his door on the rest of the world. Not long to go. He remembers having the self-same thought this time last week and nothing bad happened. Yes, this occurred in pretty much the same way last Friday... and next Friday has seen no earthquakes posted for it either... 0820 Catherine is engaged in the last of the washing up as her children turn up, uniforms more or less correctly donned, for their pecks on the cheek. This is something against which Gary in particular, is beginning to rebel. These days, he tends to jerk his head away in slight embarrassment from his mother's tousling of his hair. Despite her adolescent crushes, Wendy is still something of a mother's girl and always lingers for that warm hug with Mum. Being close to Mum is... comforting. One day it will change but not now, not for a while. Catherine loves her children and they know it. It makes life secure. Dad is more reserved but they look up to and respect him too. This also is a form of love. They receive their pecks, collect their bags, and are ushered out of the house with loving farewells and rejoinders to behave well at school. School starts at a quarter to nine and they have a twenty minute walk to get there. They always leave the house at twenty past eight. Always. Friday or not. 0830 Catherine finally reaches the end of tidying the kitchen and heads for the shower, as ever, at this time on a Friday. She likes being able to attend purely to herself, now that she has seen off the family. The 'morning rush' is over. Her showering is nevertheless to-the-point and sparing of the water. As usual, she remembers the days when she used to take baths... those long-off days before the advent of children and water meters. Those sessions were truly self-indulgent. She misses them to a certain extent but consoles herself with the thought that every penny saved goes towards the collective future of the family. She smiles as she thinks about the family and the loving atmosphere within it. The family is everything. Hey ho. 0845 Still in her bath robe, Catherine sits at her dressing table as she always does after showering, hair dryer in one hand, hair brush in the other. There is an art to looking attractive, she always thinks, and it's worthwhile putting in some time on the matter. A few touches here and there. And after attention to her hair, just the bare minimum of things which come into the 'cosmetics' bracket. Enough, just enough, to suggest 'class' - that's the aim. That is always the aim. Catherine has something of a snobbish attitude towards women whom she views as 'extremists', both the ones who never give their appearance any thought and the ones who think of little else, plastering stuff on by the bucket- load. Mutton dressed as lamb, generally speaking. Her reverie, as she applies the final, delicate touches is interrupted by the distant sound of the doorbell... she has lost touch with the time. It's nine o' clock. On Fridays the doorbell always sounds at nine. 0920 Catherine's splayed legs flail high on either side of the black man's pounding rump as he drives his penis into her groin. Desperately striving to match her rhythm to his, she scissors her thighs around him trying, as if it were possible, to draw him even deeper inside her. Her vagina is already stretched well to its maximum. She catches her breath as suddenly she feels the first stirrings of her orgasm. It is a signal. The usual signal which the black man recognises. He pauses in his exertions and raises himself above her. Clutching her throat with one massive hand, he delivers three stinging slaps to her cheeks with the other, two to the right, one to the left. As agreed. As normal. Catherine is transfixed with a glorious glow of submissive delight. He takes hold of her legs and places them on his chest so that her feet drape over his shoulders and resumes his work with a greater intensity, pistoning into her hugely watering vagina. The bed creaks under his attentions as it never does at any other time when cock meets cunt, still unmade from the night before. After all, there is scant point in making it twice. The man is hardly new to this situation and it lacks, for him, any great originality. He can feel Catherine's growing passion as she writhes beneath him, her breasts bouncing with each of the massive jolts which his thrusts deliver to her far smaller frame... but for him this is work, just ordinary. As she finally loses control, her face turning a bright pink, and convulses in a series of unmanaged spasms, his own satisfaction is yet to be realised. The scene has not stimulated him sufficiently to bring him to climax. He allows her the duration of her orgasm and a certain respite afterwards as her breathing returns to normal - but then seizes her by the hair, now 'tousled' more thoroughly than Gary's has ever been, and forces her mouth to his penis which is still wet with her own sweet lubrication. Catherine has done this before and enjoys the power play inherent in her submission. With difficulty but successfully, she receives most of the monster organ into her throat and, after a minute's further thrusting, takes in the spurts of hot, sticky semen as they fill up her mouth, swallowing repeatedly to clear her passageway. The black man, after dressing, picks up his usual pair of twenty pound notes from the bedside table and leaves without discussion, now satisfied. There's never any discussion as he leaves. 0935 Mrs. Cooper lies for a further while atop the marital bed, thinking ahead to work this afternoon and whether all of the client reports will be ready. Then, she considers the lovely family evening in store for later - she is pretty sure that Gary has picked up yet another girlfriend but hopes that he'll be available for 'film and pizza' night. Alan is sure to be tired after his week's work but Catherine is reasonably confident that, as on past occasions, being in the midst of his happy, loving family will perk him up. Otherwise, she thinks, just a weekend like any other. Beginning with a Friday like any other. She yawns and stretches as she makes her way to the shower for the second time in little more than an hour, on this occasion to have a more extended and indulgent session. The towel will still be there and the shower gel, shampoo and conditioner still to hand... she has left everything ready in place, ready... ...after all, little point in putting things away when they're going to be needed again soon. All pure routine. Catherine is very much a creature of routine... ...and finds much comfort therein. 1245 Wendy makes her way slowly along crowded school corridors towards the languages department. With the lunch break bell still ringing and pupils anxious to get to their various lunchtime activities, she has chosen a route which takes her largely against the flow but is still nonetheless probably the quickest way. As usual, she is anxious to be at her 'extra help' session on time. Mr. Stevens has told her in front of the class, right back at the start of term in September, that she needs these supplementary lessons in the language lab or risks having to drop down a set. She's been receiving her instruction now for six weeks. So, this is all fairly routine for Wendy. Nothing out of the ordinary. Knocking on the lab door, she has not long to wait before it opens and she is ushered inside by the teacher. Ensuring first that the door is locked from the inside, Mr. Stevens leads her to the small stock storage room at the back of the lab. Here there is a musty smell from the piles of textbooks on the metal shelving lining the walls - it does not help that the room is windowless and cannot be aired - and in the centre there a small but sturdy table acting as a spare marking desk. Normally it too has piles of papers and books on it but, as he switches on the light and turns to lock this door also behind them, Wendy sees that it has been cleared so as to save time. 1255 The beating was a little more thorough this time. Her school skirt up around her waist and her panties dangling still from one shoe, Wendy feels her bottom hot and stinging from Mr. Stevens' handiwork. He is putting more force into his smacks, in an obviously planned way, with each of their encounters. Testing her. As he goes around the table, releasing her hands and legs from their bonds at its four corners, she can feel the glow, as it has always done, spreading outward, making her feel alive. He turns her over and reaches to her mouth, removing the school tie which has been acting as a gag. She obliges obediently as he motions for her to part her legs and she exults in the tremendous feeling of completion as she feels his penis forcing its way slowly inside her. She loves obeying him. She loves the way he towers over her, manipulating her according to his wishes then pressing his whole weight down on her and taking his pleasure from her body. She has never felt more wanted. When this first happened, she remembers, it was all very strange and even painful from the dryness and the friction... but now she wants it so much and the pain seems to have gone. Something is stopping the discomfort and producing... other feelings. It is all so lovely. For her, the attraction in Mr. Stevens lies somewhere between his fresh, young, new teacher face and jaunty hair style, quite reminiscent of some boy band types, and that silky smooth voice of his. Enough to make you swoon. For him, it's difficult to analyse but almost certainly that totally mischievous look to her combined with a femininity which she has a struggle to suppress. Her small, innocent, virtually bare mound with its few straggly dark hairs is a particular delight. Well, let us be honest, some girls you want to both thrash soundly and fuck madly... and this is one of them. He intends to wipe that coy smile from her face. As he goes about his work atop her, Wendy hopes Mr. Stevens will find ways of continuing with her instruction every Friday - she wants it to be part of her life - just a normal Friday thing which never stops. A normal Friday thing. 1550 Wendy is scarcely surprised not to be joined by Gary at the end of school - no, he has not given any indication that he will be cavorting with his pals instead of joining with her for the walk home. On the other hand it would not be the first time lately, especially on a Friday, when he's gone to a friend's home to try out some new computer game or suchlike. She just wishes he would tell her. Having waited the customary five minutes, she sighs and wends her way. Gary, meanwhile, is attending Mrs. Brewer's end of school detention class... of one. This has become a regular appointment over the course of the term since, to use Mrs. Brewer's phrase, his geometry needs some 'dramatic improvement' or he will sell himself short in his A-Level result next year. Mrs. Brewer, a handsome woman well into middle age, always puts herself out for pupils who show signs of falling behind. She can be, as Gary's class has observed, a little selective as to whom she offers this extra help but when such need combines with poor effort, she will always go the extra mile. The maths stock room resounds to his teacher's panting as Gary sucks on her erect nipples. With her back pressed firmly into a pile of 'Introduction to Pythagorean Elements' and her legs firmly clasping the torso of her student, Mrs. Brewer allows considerations of Gary's geometry to take second place to her building orgasm. Her glasses mist over more than slightly with the effort as she begins to emit the small mews and grunts which have become music to Gary's ears over these last few weeks of extra-curricular help. Mrs. Brewer has been besotted with Gary ever since he came through puberty while in her maths class two years ago. She has found him easy to manipulate - and, from his viewpoint, she has been willing to give him exactly what he wants, no questions asked and no complicated 'relationship' stuff. Even Gary realises dimly that she probably wears her just-too-high skirts deliberately and that the dyed, long, blond hair is a last, middle-aged cry for attention - but all that really concerns him is that she's apparently willing to open her legs in a no- strings-attached way. He empties himself into her. He loves it. She loves it. Just like last week. As errant drops of sperm and copious coatings of dust are hastily dabbed away during the process of trousers- and-skirt re-adjustment, there are quiet whispers of 'same time next week' and accompanying nods. It is really the only time of the week available for Mrs. B who has to meet with her husband at the supermarket shortly to do the weekend shopping... and all other days are spoken for. Mr. Brewer himself won't get there until five o'clock - but he's reassured that his wife will be killing time by giving extra tuition after school such that she doesn't have to hang around, waiting for him. A great idea, he has told her. People always have to make such minor adjustments to their lives to accommodate the needs of the working day. Sometimes it's a nuisance - but this can vary. 1630 Alan's worst fears about the day have been fulfilled, sadly. There was always a chance this could happen. Watts, his manager and the person with ultimate authority over the direction of his future career, was NOT needed to accompany any of the reps to see customers and is therefore free to lord it over the office during the last afternoon of the week. Alan is in line for a much postponed promotion but the decision is very much in the hands of his line manager and there is competition. Alan is very much aware of this and so is Watts... very much. Alan's career has, owing to the slight ditheriness so beloved of his wife, faltered and flat-lined. Worse than that, sales figures under his watch have been unspectacular and some of his competition might well be in the running to take over from him - in other words, a demotion scenario. Alan knows only too well that the status quo is not a possible outcome of the current situation. He must get the promotion. He simply cannot allow his family's future to be sabotaged by any reduction in his income, not with Gary off to university in the foreseeable future. Equally awful would be the shame concomitant with such an event - something he just could not cover up. No, Alan is a bundle of nerves at Watts' unexpected presence in the building. He knows very well from previous Fridays what this may portend. On other weekdays, Watts would have calls to make and meetings to arrange... but on a Friday he can postpone such things till the following week, thus freeing himself to consider other matters. Alan's nervousness proves more than justified when he receives a call from Watts's PA, asking him to present himself at the office. Well, this is scarcely the first time and he steels himself, knowing that he must make the best impression he can. 1640 It is always painful and he does not know when it will end. The locking of the door and the intercom order to 'hold all calls until further notice' have, needless to say, given the PA no indication as to either the duration or the nature of the 'private session'. But Alan's anus knows, as his superior repeatedly forces his member into Alan's passage. The grease has done its job to a certain extent but it is still hurting and he grits his teeth, biting down on the leather belt which has been placed between his teeth. Rather this than suffer a demotion and consequent humiliation. Alan is sure that there is a pencil or perhaps a pen beneath his back which is causing abrasion and pain as the combined weight of the two men on the desk force him down against it. He stares up at the dominant, triumphal glare in his boss's eyes and this leads to a sudden revelation. An epiphany. He realises that perhaps there is a pecking order among men. Perhaps some are natural leaders and predators, others being born followers and... victims. Simultaneous with this thought comes a sudden easing of the pain and an acceptance of what was previously merely tolerated. Something clicks. Suddenly Alan accepts his role, his status in relation to the man whom he now sees as his master. Yes, the pain subsides and another reaction replaces it as his penis starts to engorge, flopping stiffly this way and that across his testicles as the more powerful man continues the subjugation of his acquiescent subject. He intends to make this last, to enjoy his 'lording' it over his subordinate. He takes hold of Alan's penis and wrenches it brutally, to be rewarded by a look which combines both pleading and pain. Wonderful. Just right. Oh yes, he intends to make this the norm, to make it routine... and perhaps Alan will in turn be rewarded with that step up. He has yet to decide and will take his time. There is no reason why Alan should not be made to suffer a little more. Then, in time, it might be fun to oblige him to attend a week's training course away from home. Somewhere interesting. 2030 There is a kind of warm glow as the family settle down to enjoy pizza night in front of the TV. It is not just the flickering from the flame effect fire, nor the cosiness which almost always flows from being inside and away from the late autumn elements of rain and cold. No, a loving family is engaged in togetherness and there is a palpable warmth which only comes from closeness and knowing each other down to the very last details. It is a kind of telepathy which only a family can have. Instinctively, they enjoy the fact that their lives are totally open books to each other, that nothing is hidden, that the normality and ordinariness of their routine, which some might see as humdrum, is there as the enduring bedrock of their family life. Just a normal Friday, really, with nothing special to report... END *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison system. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 80