Seven Sunny Sunsets (F / Futa, Harem)

“Monday…” I groaned into my pillow. “Who the fuck has ever actually liked Monday?” I always seem to enjoy the most pleasurable dreams on that first morning of the week but by the third punch of the snooze button, the memories are so foggy I can barely remember them. Though the memory had faded, the rigid evidence of my arousal remained. I was having my way with someone; A teacher—a cheerleader—maybe a tennis player. It’s of no real consequence whom. All that mattered now was at 6am, the alarm was blaring again and I was debating with myself between going back to bed or finishing myself off manually and soiling my sheets.

I rolled over slightly, firm buttocks bracing me as I glided my petite first between my delicate thighs and gave a squeeze. A smile flexed away my early morning grimace as my flesh I fondled began to pulse in reaction. “Ah!” I folded my legs and clasped them shut. My heart throbbed as I stroked myself—maybe Monday wasn’t going to be so horrible after all.

“SUNNY!” the unmistakable shrill of Emmy the housekeeper wilted my pleasure. “SCHOOL!”

“I hate Mondays.” I growled under my breath as I buried my face into my long blonde hair.

I’m probably getting ahead of myself—I’ll start over while I get ready for school. My name is Sunny Skye—isn’t that horrible? I’m neither a professional wrestling valet nor burlesque dancer. It also makes me seem perkier than I really am… even if I’m captain of my cheer team at my high school. Wait a minute—scratch what I said before. My name is PERFECT.

Speaking of perfect; so is my future. My 18th birthday is in two weeks. At that time, I will come to inherit the prestigious Cloudy Skyes Candy Company. At 65 years, it’s one of the oldest businesses around, and sorta an institution here in Pom City. Personally, I’m pretty stoked to be the 5th generation of the Skye family to hold the reigned of the million-dollar business.

I paced through the foyer of the Skye mansion and had to cover my face as those horrid ultraviolet rays pierced through the sun-lit glass ceiling. Despite the alliteration, I actually hated my namesake—especially on Monday. Sweat beaded on my brow instantly as the sun scorched my fair scalp. Through this terrible inconvenience I stepped lightly, the pleated skirt of my school uniform made audible swishing sounds as I scurried to the town car.

“Thank you, Manfred.” I murmured as our family driver held the door ajar for me. He’s a gentle, kind, older man that had served and kept the Skye family’s confidence since before I was born. That may seem like an easy task, but we are no normal family.

I slid into the backseat and fanned my thighs. An uneasy sigh drained from my lungs. The morning’s severe lack of privacy had taken its toll. “Manfred,” I called through the tinted glass that parsed us. “I wish to be alone once she gets in.”

“As you wish, Miss Sunny.” Manfred was always the first to sign-off on my impulsive flights of fancy. That’s why I love him. I thanked my driver with a smile as the car slowly rolled from the driveway past the decadent estates of our neighbors. They were philanthropists, politicians, and pillars of industry—the tangible representation of keeping up with the Joneses. It would all be my destiny—very soon. I was to be a pillar, rigid and firm, with the weight of the world to be on my shoulders alone. Another uneasy sigh rattled my tiny frame. To be truthful, sometimes I thought it would all too much to bear by myself.

I guess that’s why my parents added “Sunny’s Sunset Clause” to their wills. I guess it was a failsafe incase I was ever orphaned like I was. I wish I could thank them for that one day. Hold on. I haven’t mentioned the clause yet? God, this really IS Monday. Don’t worry; I’ll get to that later today.

The clanking and booming outside the window jerked me from my parental daydream. Construction and traffic horns told me we had made it to the city. This route we traveled daily, full 30 arduous minutes out of our way. It was usually worth it, however. Especially today.

Her frumpy curves caught me eye at the car edged the curb. She awkwardly slid in when the vehicle halted, carefully keeping her thick legs pressed together when her uniform skirt made its obligatory ride up her ass. I giggled to myself as she pulled the fabric back down again. I don’t know why she always insists on being so modest.

“Good morning, Miss Skye.” Cassidy Black settled herself next to me on the wide seat, pushing her slipping dark-rimmed glasses back up on her pudgy face. “Did you have a good weekend?” She swung her backpack to the floor before slamming the car door.

“Good weekend,” I confirmed as I unbuckled my skirt. “Bad Monday.” I crept the bottoms down around my sh

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