User:So So/crats

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A young girl briskly descends the stairs of her home to the first floor living room where her father is busily sticking colored streamers and balloons to the walls. A banner across the fireplace reads “Happy Birthday Stacie!”

“Wow, the place looks awesome, dad!”

The father turns around and removes his glasses, wiping them with a handkerchief.

“It’s too bad your mother’s working late shift tonight, Stace. I’d have liked her to get a look at everything before you wild girls tear the place apart tonight!”

Stacie playfully slaps her father on the shoulder.

“Oh, dad! We’ll be good!”

“Yes, I know, sweetheart, I know. So who’s coming over?”

“It’s gonna be Lindsey, Sara, Tiffany and Marisa.”

Stacie’s father scratches his chin.

“Marisa? I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”

“Oh, she’s never been here before. But she’s really popular at school and we just became friends a little while ago. She’s the first girl in our class to wear a bra! Oh, but don’t tell I told you that or she’ll kill me!”

Stacie’s father puts his glasses back on, which glare under the ceiling light.

“Well, it’ll be nice to meet her. Any friend of my little girl is –“

The doorbell rings. Stacie hurriedly skips toward it as the family dog barks wildly.

“Is one of your friends here already?”

A blond-haired girl, slightly taller than Stacie walks in with a wrapped present held tight to her bosom.

“Hey, Marisa! This is Marisa, dad.”

“Hello, Mr. Sinclair!”

Marisa places the present on a nearby chair, revealing a blouse with a low neckline that exposes her clavicle. The petite family dog yaps repeatedly, jumping up and down and clasping onto Marisa’s bare leg.

“Oh, Scruffy, you’re just like the boys at school!”

The two girls giggle. Stacie’s father looks down at his daughter’s friend.

“Say, Marisa, I know you just got here, but the rest of the girls won’t be here for an hour or so, so I wonder if you could help me with something in the kitchen.”

Marisa and Stacie exchange glances.

“Sure, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Great. Stacie, you stay out here just in case one of your friends comes to the door. And please, DON’T come into the kitchen until I say okay, alright?”

“Sure, dad. What are you going to do?” Stacie asks, puzzled.”

“It’s a surprise. Just don’t come in, okay?”

Stacie’s father escorts Marisa to the kitchen, followed by a scampering Scruffy.

Bored by herself, Stacie runs to the den, checks her email on the family computer, and returns to the living room.

“I wonder what those two are doing in there?”

Stacie mutes the living room TV and tiptoes close to the kitchen, where she hears Marisa giggling. The giggles start to escalate into squeals, and her father can be heard talking in a low voice, but Stacie cannot make out what he is saying. Scruffy is barking on and off and begins to growl a bit. Suddenly, an odd squeaking noise can be heard.

“That’s it,” says Marisa, “I’m going in there!”

Stacie bursts into the kitchen to find Marisa smearing colored paint on the face of Stacie’s father, who is dressed in a baggy yellow clown suit. Scruffy is wearing a miniature sequined coat with a tiny party hat and is running around the kitchen table, upon which a white cake with twelve unlit candles sits.

“What are you doing, guys?”

“Stacie!” Stacie’s father turns his head in his daughter’s direction, inadvertently flinging off the round red clown nose from his face, which hits the ground twice, making a squeak, squeak sound.

“We were trying to surprise you with my clown costume! Why did you have to go and ruin it like that?”

Stacie stares blankly at the space between two of them, eyes glazed over.

“Well, I pictured you plunging five fingers into Marisa’s tight asshole, spreading it out nice and wide. Turning over the kitchen table, you sat her upon one of the table legs, driving the leg deep into her rectum until she was seated there like a corndog on a stick. After smothering your hard, long cock with pancake syrup from the fridge and decorating it with candy sprinkles you grabbed Marisa by the back of the head, jamming your penis down her throat over and until she couldn’t take it anymore and barfed all over the floor. Picking up Scruffy, you dipped his hind leg into the puddle of vomit until it was caked in juicy chunks, and commenced jabbing it roughly into Marisa’s swollen, wet pussy. Having one hand free, you grabbed Scruffy’s dog-penis, stroking it frantically until he sprayed globs all over Marisa’s –“


Stacie’s father stands up, half-painted clown face twitching in disgust. Marisa runs out of the kitchen crying, followed by a panting Scruffy.

“Who on earth put those filthy thoughts in your head?”

Stacie presses her hand against the crotch of her father’s clown pants, squeezing his scrotum gently, and looks him in the eye.

“The aristocrats.”

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