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From: M Quayle <okieram@telepath.com>
Subject: (ASSM) A "Farrell" Story (Late For Dinner) Chapter 52: Table Scraps (S&M Family fun, home cooking)
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Your comments, criticisms, and evil/sexy/comical plot ideas are always
welcome. Many of Kathy’s adventures are based on reader suggestions.
Join the free “Late for Dinner” mailing list: 
http://www.onelist.com/subscribe.cgi/LateForDinner
New chapters are also posted regularly to alt.torture, alt.sadistic,
alt.sex.stories & alt.sex.stories.moderated.
Earlier chapters are on-line in the mailing list archive and at J.
Wijnands’s site at
http://www.xs4all.nl/~wijnands/bdsm/late/
 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
WARNING!  This story is for adults only and contains Strong Sexual
Content and Convoluted Attempts at Humor. It is intended as a work of
satirical sexual fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any
way condone or encourage similar behavior even if it was legal or
physically possible. If you are under the age of 18 or reside in a state
(or alt.state) that prohibits such behavior, stop reading this right
now. I mean it!!!!!!
Remember: DON’T DO THIS AT HOME!!!!!                      
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Do not repost or post without permission of author.

Late for Dinner
copyright 1998-99 by M Quayle (a pseudonym)
All rights reserved

Chapter 52: Table Scraps  

“Home again!” Daddy called unsnapped his seat belt. “Time to get
everything unloaded and wash up for dinner.”

“I’m come, come, coming, Da, Da, Daddy!” Kathy screamed as Christi made
a final lap around her carnal course.   

“Oh,” Daddy smiled, “and thanks for the show on the way home, girls.  It
was great.”

“Anytime Daddy-Master,” Christi blushed and her mood clip, again, glowed
a bright cherry red.

“Christi!” Kathy teased, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a
crush on someone.  Should I be jealous?”

“Well, he is your dad, sweetheart, it’s not like I’m cheating or
anything.”

“That’s true,” Kathy giggled, “I just think it’s funny when an
almost-lesbian suddenly goes guy-gushy.”

“That’s why I’m an ALMOST lesbian.  And anyway, it’s perfectly natural
for a girl to have a crush on her almost-father-in-law.  I’m sure you’d
feel the same way about my dad,” Christi suddenly looked sad, “if he was
still around.”

“You’re right, Chris. I’m sorry,” Kathy whispered as she wiped a tear
from her beloved’s eye, “everything I’ve got is yours, including Daddy.”

“Including Michael, now that you know he’s rich?”

“Of course, you little worry wart.” Kathy tickled Christi’s taunt little
tummy.  “You know it’s double or nothing.”

“Come on girls,” Daddy called from the door, “get the car unloaded so we
can eat.  Don’t be late for dinner!”

The happy girls unloaded the boxes and bags and stacked them neatly in
the upstairs hall closet.  They then changed into white over-the-knee
socks and shorty T-shirts and hurried to the table.

“That’s what I like,” Daddy smiled as he took his seat, “everyone on
time for the best meal of the day.  Let’s eat!” The little family dove
into the delicious salad Mommy had prepared.  

“This is great dressing, Mommy.” Kathy licked her lips. “Is it from the
store?”

“Actually, you can thank your brother for it.” Mommy smiled. “I’m glad
you like him.”

“Wait a minute,” Daddy interjected, “I thought we weren’t going to let
Billy come until after his birthday party.  That’s why he’s tied up with
his hands behind his back.”

“Oh,” Mommy smirked, “I don’t think he enjoyed it very much.  You know
those milking machines dairies use?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I rented one this morning and hooked him up to it.”

“Those things aren’t exactly made with a man in mind,” Daddy winced. 
“Ouch!”

“That’s what he said.  After I got it working, I sort of, well, went
shopping.  And, when I came back, I had a pint of fresh dressing and one
very drained young man.”

“It tastes like honey mustard,” Christi noted, “I didn’t know Billy’d
had a flavor implant.”

“He hasn’t.  I had to lube him up to get him into the pump, so I used
honey and mixed in some hot Chinese mustard,” Mommy grinned her wicked
grin, “to give it a certain zing.”

“Oh God,” Daddy sniggered, “that hurts just to think about!” 

“Mommy, maybe you should pour some over ‘dear’ brother’s table scraps,”
Kathy cackled and popped a big green fork-full of lettuce into her
mouth, “you know, kind of like a reward for giving that little extra for
good taste.”


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