Mary's Evolution: Book 01

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"I don't think so," Mary answered.

"Since you were so kind to share your personal stuff with me, I'll share as well. I'm somewhere around 7 - maybe 7 and a half inches. Never was sure where you measured from though."

"What?"

"My penis. It's somewhere around 7 1/2 inches long," Mr. Mullin explained. "Pretty normal thickness I guess. With the Internet I know that's nothing truly extraordinary compared to some of those genetic freaks, but I think you'll find I'm a little bigger than most you've had. Am I right? Mary?"

"I'm here."

"Am I upsetting you?"

"I guess not."

"Oh, and I'm not circumcised. Does that matter to you? Have you ever been with an uncut guy?"

"Uh, no."

"You know what I'm doing right now?" Mr. Mullin asked.

"Uh, I'm not sure," Mary said, although she had an idea.

"Looking at a picture of you. It was the time that all of us went up to Lake George, and I was so excited about finally getting to see you in a bathing suit, but you ended up wearing a t-shirt over it. Still a nice picture though, with you all wet and smiling.

"I remember that day," Mary answered.

"Why are you so modest?" Mr. Mullin asked. "I guess I shouldn't complain, because I think that's added to the mystique of you."

"Mystique?" Mary said, stifling a giggle despite the tension she felt.

"Sure," Mr. Mullin said. "It's like having to look at a work of art that's mostly hidden, so I get to see only little peeks from time to time. Like last night when I finally got to see a little more of you, even if it was pretty dark. I had always thought - hoped might be a better word - that you didn't shave your underarms. You know, because you never wear sleeveless clothes."

"I don't like to dress in things that.. you know. Show too much I guess. So how fat I am."

"You're a little chubby, Mary. You aren't fat," Mr. Mullin said. "You have very nice arms too. It's a shame that you shave your underarms though. Would you do me a favor, Mary?"

"Depends."

"Stop shaving. Do it for me. I assume you do shave and don't get waxed every week and Brianna and her mother. I understand that letting your legs get hairy might be a problem for you socially, but at least let the hair under your arms grow for me."

"Uh, do you have any idea what I would look like?"

"I'm imagining it right now, and the very thought of it is driving me wild."

"I... uh... I'm not like, you know Brianna or anything," Mary stammered. "I'm really kind of..."

"Hairy," Mr. Mullin said, completing her sentence. "I know that. Suspected it from other little clues, but when I reached under your panties last night and felt all of that lush, thick hair between your legs, I was in heaven. It was so great to feel a real woman again. So, will you do it for me? Or not do it, I mean."

"I dunno," Mary said. "This is all too weird. None of this makes any sense."

"It will," Mr. Mullin said. "In time."

"I don't think it will," Mary countered. "If it wasn't you, I would know this was somebody playing a dirty trick on me. Teasing me and making fun of me."

"Do you have an e-mail address? One that nobody but you knows about?"

"Yes."

"Give me the address. I'll send you something to prove how serious I am about this. How serious I am about you."

******

Chapter Six: Dear MaryQuiteContrary

"Cute name for your e-mail account, Mary," Mr. Mullin's e-mail began.

It had taken well over an hour for the e-mail to arrive, and Mary felt a bit silly sitting at the computer not knowing whether Mr. Mullin was going to mail her something that night, or some other time. When it popped up in her inbox, Mary jumped in her seat, and then waited a long minute just staring at the message title, "Cute name", before opening it.

"You seem to have doubts as to my sincerity toward you, and while I myself don't understand you feeling that way, I guess I can put myself in your shoes and realize why you suspect my motives.

Why would I be attracted to you? A woman so much different from my wife? The answer to that is simple. I married Tracy 24 years ago, even though I didn't love her, and I don't think she loved me either, although things were better in the beginning then they are today.

She was a trophy wife. For some reason I thought that this is what I needed to get ahead in the business world. An attractive piece of eye candy to parade on my arm as we climbed the social ladder, making the scene at the country club and all of that. I used her, and I'm not proud of that.

Tracy used me too. She built her little real estate empire with my help, and now she's one of the town's movers and shakers. She doesn't need me now, and we stay together for Brianna's sake as well as our professional reasons. Once Brianna moves out on her own, I'm sure Tracy will be filing for divorce, if I don't beat her to it.

I curse myself for not following my heart back in my younger days. The girls that really excited me back in the 70's were the free spirits; the wild and carefree women who were natural and honest about themselves, and weren't a slave to fashion. Maybe you remind of one particular girl I was crazy about, and who liked me too.

I eased myself away from her, because she wouldn't have been the country club type. She would have been reading Crawdaddy instead of Vogue, and might have used the wrong fork at a fancy dinner. Those were things I thought meant something back then. I was a fool.

I'm no longer being a fool, and have given up pretending to go along with what society considers the norm. You want to know how I feel about you, and how I see you? Here's part of a message I sent to a small group of men I correspond with regularly, as part of this Internet group of people who share similar tastes in women.

Strictly anonymous, mind you...

"I finally did it. I couldn't believe that I actually did, but I went into the bedroom where my dream girl was sleeping. She was in a twin bed in the same room as my daughter, so I had to be careful and quiet.

The girl's name is Mary, and she just turned 18. She's about five foot tall and maybe 130 pounds or so. Pleasingly plump you might say. She's an extremely intelligent girl too. The bookworm type with glasses and all. She has this incredible wavy dark brown shoulder length hair that's so thick it makes you want to run your hands through it.

Her eyebrows are thick too, and she has those Sarah Silverman-like sideburns that we've talked about so much. All of that gave me a lot of confidence about what I would find once I got under her clothes.

She was wearing a night shirt and panties; so typical of the way she dresses. She has no confidence and practically covers herself from head to toe all the time, so very unlike her best friend - my daughter - who lets everything hang out for all to see.

Once I knelt beside Mary's bed, my hands were all over her. Her breasts were so big and full you wouldn't believe it. Not those titty bar silicone boobs that are hard as stone, but real honest-to-goodness natural breasts, soft and full with nipples like baby pacifiers.

Mary woke up when I started to slide my hand under the elastic of her panties, but I managed to keep her quiet, and she didn't stop me or my hand. Her panties were cotton and very full cut, but as soon as my fingers slid inside they were right in the middle of the thickest and densest bush imaginable.

Despite how thick and dense her bush is, my fingers found their way right into her opening, and while I played with her pussy with one hand I kept kneading those jugs with the other. After my mouth latched onto the fattest nipple I had ever experienced, Mary came fast and she came hard, and managed to keep quiet about it too, bless her soul.

After she stopped cumming, I pulled my hand out of her panties and licked my fingers while inhaling her musky pussy scent, before bringing that hand down to jerk myself off. I wanted to do much more but the risk of getting caught was too great, so while stroking my cock I inched her shirt up over her tits and up to her head.

Remember I told you guys that I suspected she might not shave her armpits, just guessing from little peeks I got up the sleeves of her blouses and from the way she dresses so modestly? Well, sad to say that wasn't the case, as I learned when I raised her arm up over her head and let my thumb slide under her arm, but she must not have shaved in a week or two because the stubble was very prominent.

I didn't want to scare her off but I couldn't resist it, so I let my tongue slide over. After licking the sweetest and moistest underarm on earth, which was completely coated with little seedlings, I came all over the floor, and it was so intense that I almost passed out from the force of my orgasm.

Tonight I'm going to talk to her and tell her how I feel. I know I must sound like a schoolkid to you guys, but that's close to the way I'm feeling right about now."

Well Mary, there was more in that message I sent to these other men, but you get the general idea. Now you know how it was for me that night. Only you know how it was for you.

I don't know how you could have missed how I've felt about you. That astounds me, given how intelligent and perceptive you always seem to be. Even Tracy has sensed it, making a comment one time about how I should be ashamed of myself for being such a lecherous person.

I don't feel that I am. I just know what I like and I truly appreciate a woman's beauty in the most pure and natural state. That's you, Mary.

So there you have it. Now that you know how I feel, the next move is yours. With what I've written here, you could destroy a lot of lives. Not my marriage, of course. That's dead and buried anyway, but you could hurt Brianna, and probably hurt me professionally too.

I trust you though, so if I've offended you in any way, I hope you'll just delete this and never call me again. I, in turn will never bother you any more. I care for you and respect you too much to hurt you.

If you do have feelings for me, and would like me to teach you all that I know, then I hope you will call me again tomorrow night. If that's the case, then open the attachment, which is another example of the faith and trust I have in you.

All my love,

Greg

*******

Chapter Seven: The attachment.

Mary was drenched in sweat by the time she got to the end of Mr. Mullin's e-mail, and she had to wipe the perspiration from her forehead before clicking on the attachment. When the photo came up, Mary gasped, even though it was nothing she hadn't seen before on the Internet. What made it different was that this was somebody she knew.Mr. Mullin. Naked.

The photo was taken in the computer room of the Mullin's house, and Mr. Mullin was standing beside the computer chair. He wasn't posed lewdly or anything, but just standing there with an almost apprehensive look on his face. Naked.

He had a nice body, that much Mary already knew, but he was in really good shape for somebody close to fifty. His stomach was flat and he had nice muscle tone. He had chest hair too, which she found sexy but Mary's eyes kept going right back to the same place.

Mr. Mullin's cock looked scary. Not only because it was big either, although there was no denying that the long flaccid hose that hung down in front of a sizable pair of balls was a little intimidating.

Maybe part of it was the fact that he was uncircumsised. The tip of the head of his manhood was just peeking out from the wrinkled opening of the hood, and Mary wondered how it would feel to slide his foreskin back. But the real fear factor was in that this cock, unlike the scores of others she had seen on the Internet, was attached to somebody who for whatever reason, wanted her.

As Mary's hand went down between her legs; down to the very same place where the hand of that distinguished looking man staring placidly back at her from the screen had been a couple of nights earlier. She was already wet from reading what Mr. Mullin had wrote to her, and as she thrust herself into her vigorously moving fingers she let her mind go as she stared at Mr. Mullin's cock.

He was going to be the first, Mary thought. He wanted her, and she found herself wanting him. He was so big down there even soft. What would it look like hard? What would it feel like?

"Please be gentle," Mary whispered to herself as she neared orgasm. "I've never done this before. Really. I'm scared."

Mary came as she imagined Mr. Mullin's cock sliding into her, his throbbing hardness tearing through her membrane and sinking deep inside of her, and she almost feel out of the chair as her body convulsed several times before finally subsiding.

*******

Chapter Eight: The next call.

"I'm so glad you called, Mary," Mr. Mullin said. "I was afraid that I might have offended you."

"No, I'm okay."

"What did you think about it? Everything. Like about what I wrote about you to the others."

"Weird," Mary said. "It was like you were talking about somebody else instead of me."

"I hope that means you liked what I wrote."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mary said. "Don't understand the stuff about the hair though."

"My liking it?"

"Yeah," Mary said. "I mean, us girls always try to get rid of it all nowadays."

"And you've always feel self-conscious about being so hairy down there?" Mr. Mullin asked. "When you're in the shower at school or around other girls naked, does it bother you that you're so much hairier than they are? Do you shave the hair that spills out of the sides of your panties?"

"Yeah. Well, I used to do that, but it grows back so fast that I finally gave up."

"Mary, I know that today's fashion trend is to be smooth all over, but there a lot of men out there that still love the look and the feel of a natural woman. I have to look everyday at a woman in her mid 40's without a hair on her body below her neck, and I find that it looks prepubescent and downright disturbing. Do you think I'm weird?"

"I don't know. I guess so. A little, but I guess I'm kinda weird too."

"Good. We'll be weird together. So tell me, have you shaved at all since I saw you a couple of nights ago?"

"My legs," Mary said. "Had to because I wore a skirt to school."

"How about under your arms? Have you shaved your armpits?"

"Uh - no."

"That's good," Mr. Mullin said softly. "What's it been since you last shaved under your arms? A couple of weeks?"

"Ha!" Mary chuckled. "More like a few days. I'm like a werewolf or something. My armpits are so gross!"

"Obviously I didn't think so the other night, did I?" Mr. Mullin reminded her. "In fact, a woman's underarms are a very erogenous part of the body. What I did may have startled you at first, but if you really think about it, I'll bet that you had a lot different reaction than you would have expected."

There was a deafening silence at the other end of the phone, and then Mr. Mullin cleared his throat.

"Mary, I have to see you. Tonight."

"Tonight? I can't. It's a school night."

"Just for a minute?"

"You want to drive all the way over here to see me for a minute?" Mary asked.

"Is your bedroom the one upstairs on the far right?"

"Yes."

"Open the blinds and look out the window."

Mary went over to the window and peeked through the curtains, and as she did the interior light of the familiar car parked across the street came on for a second before going off.

"Hi Mary," Mr. Mullin said. "I'm not stalking you or anything, it's just that the Ice Queen must have worn out her Kenyan cohort because she stayed home tonight, and I wanted to be able to talk to you, so as soon as I got home from work I made an excuse and left. Mad?"

"No."

"So can you come out? Just for a while?"

"Can't. My father's down in the family room yelling at a soccer game or something - he would see me."

Mary watched as Mr. Mullin got out of the car and walked toward the house, dressed in his suit and tie, and came over to the side of the house where Mary was located. Still holding the curtains open, Mary's heart was pounding as he looked at the improbable sight of this successful businessman weaving around the bushes to get a glimpse of her.

"I can see you now," Mr. Mullin. "Looking as gorgeous as ever."

"What if somebody sees you out there? What if my father came out for some reason and saw you out there?"

Gerald Koutusis was a long-time client of his, and Greg had played golf with him on numerous occassions. They weren't real friends, as Greg found him too arrogant for his liking, but they got along well for the most part. It might not help though, if he ever got caught lurking around his property at this time of night, however.

"Then I would pretend I was here to sell him some insurance, or I'd invite him to play golf with me this weekend. That would make him happy, because I've beaten him the last couple of times and he would love a chance to get back the money he lost."

"You always have an answer for everything, Mr. Mullin," Mary giggled.

"Greg," he corrected. "And I do have the answers for a lot of things, except about you that is. All I have is questions about you. Come out. Take out the garbage or something."

"Daddy already did that," Mary said, enjoying someone wanting her so badly for the first time in her life. "You want to see me? Here!"

Mary giggled as she put the phone on her shoulder and pulled up her shirt quickly before dropping it back down just as fast, not believing what she had just done.

"Again Mary," Mr. Mullin said, staring up at her from the driveway. "Slower this time."

Mary found her hands moving down to the bottom of her t-shirt and lifting it up, pulling it out over her chest and holding it up.

"Omigod," Mr. Mullin said, staring open-mouthed as Mary lifted her shirt.

With no bra underneath, her massive breasts were fully exposed; the heavy, pendulous jugs hanging down to her waist, and her nipples were almost grazing the window pane as she kept the shirt up for about a half minute before lowering it.

"That was piggish," Mary said, breaking the silence as her face flushed with shame, unable to comprehend what was getting into her to do something like that.

"No. It was the sweetest and most wonderful thing I could have ever wished for. Your breasts are simply amazing. They're beautiful and deserve to be enjoyed by someone as appreciative as I am of true beauty. How badly I want to bury my face between them, or to stick my cock between them. Please come out. Just come down to the garage for a second."

"The den is right down there next to the garage," Mary said. "My dad will see me."

"Make an excuse or something."

The phone went silent, and Greg Mullin went over to the door on the attached garage, flinching when the motion detector set off the security light which bathed him in a garish glow, and tried the door. It was unlocked.

Stepping inside the dark and smelly garage, Mr. Mullin heard the sound of a soccer game through the wall, along with the voice of Gerald Koutusis berating a player for something or other, and then the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs.

As the door opened, Greg Mullin realized that if wasn't Mary, his presence in the middle of the cluttered two car garage would be way beyond difficult to explain, but there she was in the opened doorway, bathed in the light of TV behind her.

"Getting a soda," Mary said in response to her father asking her where she was going, and the bellowing of the announcer yelling GOAL!!! got quieter when she finally closed the door.

Mary practically flew across the garage to meet him, her breasts swaying wildly as she ran, and she jumped into his arms as they met. Their height difference was almost a foot but they managed to connect easily enough.

No words were exchanged, and Greg was thrilled that Mary was just as excited as he was. Their kisses were sloppy wet and downright feral, their tongues dueling as Greg's hands probed under her blouse with an animal-like intensity.

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