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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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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
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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.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 80