The Substitute Ch. 01

"Well, yes, that's true, Mary," Isabel answered. "But all the same, it never hurts to be modest." Her daughter, unconvinced by the argument, thought to herself, "Maybe so, but if yesterday is anything to go by, showing off can be lots of fun, too!"

A little later, Mary watched her parents leave for the dance contest. When they had walked to the corner, and were out of sight on Porter Street, she hurried back into the house and up to her room. She thoughtfully fingered the three store-bought dresses hanging next to her homemade ones in her open wardrobe. Smiling, and tingling from her memory, she pushed the green camellia dress aside. "He's already seen THAT one," she laughed to herself.

Holding out her white ruffle-neck go-to-church dress with pink, yellow and blue satin ribbons interwoven through the lace trim at its hemline, waist and sleeves, Mary snorted, "It's not SUNDAY... I'll save that." She moved to her other school dress and pulled it out. Holding the pale blue garment up and studied herself in the corner mirror. Mary loved its long lean lines and its busy pattern of small white daisies. The snow white floppy sailor collar and matching sleeve cuffs at the elbows were cute, but somehow did not fit her mood. Putting it away again, she scratched her neck and frowned.

Anticipating the upcoming afternoon, Mary felt naughty, excited, scared, eager and more than a little distracted. She could not believe how much she ached inside. Her heart beat faster. Her cunny squished when she pressed her thighs together. Wiggling and shivering, she shifted from one foot to the other as small sparks flew up her chimney and set tiny fires in her chest. Frustrated by her indecisiveness and emotional turmoil, Mary closed the wardrobe and wandered aimlessly through the empty McGuinness bungalow.

Knowing full well she was not allowed to enter her parents' bedroom without being asked, Mary, now that she was alone, could not resist the temptation to explore. She entered the shadowed room at the back of the house and sat on the rose-patterned tufted chenille bedspread covering their huge brass four-poster. Pushing down her hands, she bounced her bottom on the springy mattress. Compared with her parents' bed, her own was a slate cot.

Moving off the bed and over to the dresser, she picked up a stylized black bottle with a gold top and a foreign-looking woman's profile on its body. "Arpège." She read the bottle's label aloud softly. Her mind flashed back to two Christmases ago. Her mother had been thrilled when she opened her present. "Oh, JOCK!" Mary could still hear her mother shriek. "It's the LATEST! But, so EXPENSIVE! You shouldn't have!" Mary's heart had filled with joy when Papa grinned, hugged Mama tight and said, "Happy Christmas, Baby... You're worth every SCENT!" Jock and Isabel laughed uproariously together, although Mary did not know why.

The bottle was heavy in Mary's hands and she guessed it was still pretty full. Removing the stopper, she whispered, "Thank you, Mama," then inverted the bottle onto her index finger tip. Dabbing a big drop behind her right ear she drug her finger's pad down the side of her neck to her collarbone and repeated the process on her left side. The scent was stronger than she imagined it would be and her skin was warm beneath the streaked alcohol.

She looked at her reflection in the bureau mirror and saw herself through her mother's fretful eyes: a nubile young woman with flaxen hair, gold-flecked hazel eyes and a naturally pouty lower lip. Mary smiled, took a deep breath and watched her breasts proudly lift within her rough textured sackcloth smock. Turning first left and then right, she noticed she could see the sides of her bra cups through the armholes. Assessing her pulchritude, packed in her too-small make-shift shift, she breathed out and said, "I guess you're right, Mama... this isn't a very modest dress anymore."

With sudden clarity of mind, Mary spun and strode decisively back to her bedroom, in the upper half-story of the bungalow. Swiftly she peeled the 'Ful-O-Pep' dress over her head and tossed it on her patchwork quilt covered bed. Stripping out of her bloomers and shedding her bra, she was quickly naked, but for her homespun linsey-woolsey socks and heavy oxford shoes. She walked to her chest of drawers and pulled out the long silvery silk chemise she kept to wear with her Sunday Best dress. Slipping it over her head, Mary shimmied the soft slinky lingerie into place. Smoothing it over her breasts and tummy she dawdled briefly at her cunny's cleft and smiled when its damp lips separated beneath her fingernails.

Forgoing other underwear entirely, Mary lifted the sack dress from her quilt and slithered into it again. As she tugged its hem down to the tops of her patellae and patted the coarse cloth smooth across her silk-clad bottom, she felt wonderfully snug. Raising her arms to the ceiling in a high stretch, she spun slowly, once more, in front of her corner mirror. Then, touching her toes, she peered around her bent waist at her backside reflection. The bulging sides of her breasts were more than hinted at and her heart-shaped buttocks was prominently defined, however, her chemise was completely invisible both high and low. With a satisfied smirk, Mary said out loud, "There's 'MODESTY' for you, Mama. No underwear is showing NOW!"

When the hall clock chimed the half-hour at 11:30, Mary McGuinness walked out her front door and turned toward Quinaby Street. She reached the corner just in time to jump on a trolley heading downtown. Hopping off on Central Avenue, mid-block between Inverness and Holmes Streets, she heard the conductor on the car call to the passengers, "Fares, Please." Her unfettered breasts jiggled and jumped as she happily skipped down the sidewalk toward Garvey Street.

At the alley between Holmes and Garvey Streets, Mary used ancient hopscotch skills to dodge road-apples dropped behind a departing horse-drawn ice wagon. Fifty feet along a faded white high board privacy fence, she saw an archway and rope-pull marking a gate with flanking trash bins like squat sentries. As she approached, her heart missed a beat, her throat constricted and her mouth watered when she saw the numbers '46' and '46 1/2' painted on the metal canisters. Sucking in a deep breath, Mary gave the rope a yank and pushed through into the backyard.

Ahead of her, behind a neat row of pruned fruit trees, stood a tall Victorian house. Its two stories and garret were elaborately painted in several shades of green, with ivory highlights. To her right, a neat brick path, lined on either side by blooming primroses, led to a small similarly painted one-story cottage. Mary's shoes clopped as she stepped onto its low porch. Just as she raised her hand to the brass knocker, the door opened.

"Hello, there!" Mr. Trotter stood, framed by the interior darkness, and beamed radiantly. "I'm so glad you showed up. I was hoping you would." Stepping backward into the small house, Trotter beckoned his student. "Please, come inside!"

Mary hesitated, then hurried across the threshold. Trotter closed the door, held Mary at arms length by her shoulders and turned her all around. "My, my," he said. "Don't you just look SWELL." Remembering how animated she was on Mrs. Anderson's desk when he popped her cherry, he thought to himself, "You most certainly ARE 'Ful-O-Pep', my pet, and soon enough you'll be quaking when I sew my oats in your 'Egg Mash!'" Reeling her in, he hugged his student close and said aloud, "This seems like a VERY special smock you have on... it suits you."

Mary's blushing cheeks were invisible as she pressed her face into her teacher's collarless white shirt. It was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and her nose snubbed into the ribs of his soft cotton undershirt as it pushed past the crisp starched linen. She inhaled his natural manly scent and squeezed herself harder against his frame. She thrilled to feel his hands lightly caress her back while he held her.

"It's not 'special', Mr. Trotter," Mary began.

"Mary," Edward interrupted her abruptly. "We aren't at school... it seems odd to be so, uhm, FORMAL when I'm holding you in my arms like this." He emphatically pulled her closer still, dropping his right hand to her ass and pushing her hips against his. "You may call me 'Ted', or even 'Teddy', when we're alone." He kissed the top of her head and breathed, "And I shall call you, 'Mary,' or 'my love,' or any number of other sweet names. Won't that be ALRIGHT?"

"Mmmphh!" Mary exhaled as her breasts compressed on Trotter's torso. She felt his hardness in his loose pleated linen trousers and forgot all about explaining how her mother had home-sewn the dress. Pushing her hands flat over his back, under his suspenders, she ironed his shirt with her palms. "Ted..." she tested tentatively. "Teddy... like a Teddy Bear! You... are my teddy bear," Mary whispered. She opened her mouth and chewed Trotter's chest through his undershirt.

"Sure," Trotter answered huskily, "I'm your teddy bear... and YOU'RE my 'Little Miss Muffet.'" He pulled away from the embrace, grinned and said, "I can tell you're obviously hungry. I have curds and whey... and there's a tuffet in my sitting room." He tugged on Mary's hand and led her to a great cloth upholstered armchair in his shade drawn parlor. Mary followed him as docile as her namesake's lamb.

"Sit down, Miss Mary Muffet," Edward said, firmly guiding his guest to a supported squat on a fat rectangular ottoman in front of the overstuffed chair. When she was settled, her eyes were directly level with Trotter's growing erection as it pushed out the front of his pants. He slid his black canvas suspenders off his shoulders. They hung in loops from their leather tabs against his hips as his pants slipped a half-inch, but did not fall indiscreetly.

Mary was inquisitive and eager to explore. She remembered fondly fondling his dick and feeling it stiffen before he filled her up. She reached out and unbuttoned the tented trousers. Trotter's cock pierced the vent of his boxers and broke through the plackets of his shirt front when his pants cascaded in a pool around his red-black-and-gray argyle socks and two-toned black-and-white brogans.

Mary slid her hands around and cupped Trotter's butt through his shorts. He moved forward a half-step and closed his interlaced fingers behind her head. Mary's mind whirled. An alluring pungent aroma filled her nostrils. The plump knob bobbing before her eyes shone and a clear tiny oddment of strange thick liquid bubbled in its little slit. She felt her cunny get wet and squishy again.

Wide-eyed, Mary stuck out her tongue and stabbed the viscous drop on Edward's glans. Its oily texture and slightly salty taste surprised and intrigued her. She licked her way around the spongy velvet head and sealed her lips tight behind its fleshy rim. Trotter moaned and held her firmly in place while his fingers separated and buried themselves in her tresses.

Mary sucked her breath as she pulled his pelvis closer and drew his hard shaft in and out of her mobile mouth. Trotter flexed and danced his cock in the cavity. Her warm suction brought his balls to a boil. His breath became shallow rapid puffs as he groaned and scratched Mary's scalp. She did not understand why her tummy was tumbling and her cunny was runny but she loved how she felt. Moreover, she was pleased that Mr. Trotter's noises did not sound like complaints.

In short order, Edward's body jerked spasmodically. Mary reflexively tried to pull away but could not. Her mouth was flooded as Trotter's prick pulsed on her tongue. The volume of salty tang on her taste buds was overwhelming. She swallowed madly and fought against her body's efforts to retch. Suddenly the deluge stopped and the lump in her mouth was limp, if not lifeless. Trotter released her head, stepped back and sat in the deep arms of his big chair.

"What a good girl you are," he praised as he pulled Mary, under her arms, off the stool and seated her sideways on his lap. He kissed her wet mouth and tasted his dribbling cum. Casually cupping and caressing her left tit through her frock, he asked, "SO, do you like 'curds and whey' Miss Mary Muffet?"

Mary broke the kiss and smiled broadly. "Oh YES, Teddy, very MUCH! But I still want to FEEL you... you know, INSIDE me." She pouted and kissed him, then added, "Remember? YOU PROMISED! You said, 'again and again and again'!"

"Yes, Mary, I remember," Edward answered. "I DID say that. How long can you stay this afternoon?"