The Substitute Ch. 03

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

***

Eighteen-year-old Mary McGuinness opened her eyes. During the night, she had turned over onto her right side and now lay nose-to-nose with Edward Trotter, the thirty-year-old high school math teacher who had providentially substituted for Mary's ailing English teacher on Friday afternoon. His soft warm regular breath tickled her upper lip and she felt comforted in a way she had never known.

Looking over Trotter's bare right shoulder, Mary saw the luminous dial on his bedside Westclox 'Big Ben' alarm clock. Its hands showed two-fifteen, which meant it was Sunday morning - six hours after she had fallen asleep in the teacher's cuddling arms with his softening prick parked against her pussy. She smiled in the dark at her lover, who had taken her virginity, and then, in the course of the next thirty-five hours, gloriously fucked her four more times.

While she stared happily at his placid slumbering face, Mary debated with herself. At last, she decided to depart and leave him as he was, in sweet peace. Kissing him lightly on his bristled cheek, Mary whispered, sotto voce, "Gotta go, Teddy... Thank you... I LOVE you." The corner of his mouth twitched, but he slept on. Mary rolled away and out of his bed, careful not to disturb him.

As she wandered nude through the variegated shadows of Trotter's cottage, collecting her widely dispersed few articles of clothes, Mary remembered there was no streetcar service between 11:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m. Thinking about the twenty-block walk home ahead of her, she was glad she had sturdy oxford shoes and thick homespun linsey-woolsey socks. "At least my feet will be warm," she said to herself ruefully as she slipped on her flimsy silvery silk chemise and wriggled into the dress her mother had sewn her from three old 'Ful-O-Pep Quaker Oats Egg Mash' feed sacks.

She regretted yesterday's impetuous decision to forego her bloomers and bra. Excited by her notion of being alluring, she had forgotten that, even in late May, the early morning hours could be chilly. Also, with her parents away at an all-night charity dance marathon contest, she had expected she could catch an early trolley and still beat them home. Now, however, she just wanted to hie home and be safe asleep in her own bed when Jock and Isabel McGuinness returned with their anticipated winnings.

Deciding to extend Teddy's generous loan of his rust colored wool cardigan, Mary pulled it on over her dress and stepped into the fresh dark morning. Out the gate and through the alley to Central Avenue, she crossed the alphabetically arranged streets, from Holmes to Porter, at a brisk pace. Turning left on Porter Street, she continued over Dorchester and Eason Avenues and then onward at Third Avenue into the numbered blocks.

When she reached Tenth Avenue, at the border of Arbor Heights, where the avenues changed again, but this time from numbers to tree names, Mary paused for a moment. Slightly out of breath from her uphill walk, she puffed to herself, "Just one more block," and then marched on. At Oak Avenue, the McGuinness bungalow's glowing porch light invited her warmly as she strode up the front walk and let herself in.

Mary went straight up the entry hall's half-flight of stairs to her bedroom under the house eaves. As she closed her door behind her and walked to her wardrobe, she neither saw nor sensed her father, who sat, on a straight chair, in a dark corner beside her far dormer window. The bright beams from the nearly full moon filtered through open curtains on both her windows, illuminating her iron bed and the maple bureau next to where Mary stood.

When she pulled her too-small smock over her head, the bottom curves of her bottom's cheeks shone alabaster white in the natural light as the sackcloth drug her lingerie up to her tailbone. Jock McGuinness deliberately coughed and noisily scraped his chair's legs on the garret's wooden floor. "EEEEP!" Mary yelped with surprise and spun around at the sounds.

Instantly her left hand tugged her chemise hem down to hide, as much as possible, her downy peach. Likewise, her right hand flew to her low square neckline and pulled it up to conceal the tops of her full firm young breasts. Simultaneously, Mary's mind registered her unexpected visitor's umbral form and identified her father. "PAPA!" She recoiled against the closed wardrobe as her voice rang in the rafters.

Jock's face, still shadowed behind the waxing moon's light, held an odd expression as he stood and stared at his stunned daughter. Her belated efforts at modesty were counter-productive. In fact, they only served to accentuate her charms, highlighted in bas-relief against the tautly stretched filmy silver undershirt. "Come over here, Mare," Jock ordered in a falsely calm voice. His low tone put Mary on guard, but she dared not disobey. Stepping around the end of the bed, she stopped a foot in front of her father while still shielding her delta and hills.

"Now, now, girly... None of THAT," Jock continued in an ominously quiet even cadence. "Drop your hands and stand up straight." Mary took a deep breath and obeyed. Jock licked his dry lips and swallowed with difficulty as he watched her chest rise behind its veil. Her chemise hem necessarily lifted an inch, exposing the nadir of her thin tight little slit. Jock reached out and took his daughter's hands in his. "So, would you care to tell Papa where you've been all night?"

Mary's voice quavered. "I th-thought you and Mama wouldn't be home until late in the morning!"

Jock released Mary's left hand and slapped her sharply across her cheek. Tears filled her eyes and, through her ringing ears, she heard him say, "That may be WHY you went out. But, it doesn't answer my QUESTION." He pulled the loose lingerie material away from Mary's trembling tits. Pinching and rubbing the starchy, visibly cum-stained, silk between his thumb and forefinger, he went on. "I can SEE what you've been DOING... Now, TELL me: WHERE were you doing it and with WHO?"

Mary blubbered fearfully. Jock squeezed her right hand at her hip while he let go of her chemise's front and pushed its skinny straps off her shoulders. She quivered as he slowly lowered the ruined top over her pert upright breasts and exposed their pink puffy crowns and rigid nubbins to plain view.

"MAMA! Where's MAMA?" Mary bawled, "What's happened to Mama?" She could not imagine her mother being a party to her father's actions.

Still firmly holding Mary's right hand, Jock continued pulling her chemise until if fell past her hips to the floor. Raising his free hand again, he drug his palm, ever so slowly, up the back of her right leg and cupped her ass cheek at the top of her thigh. In a neutral, matter-of-fact manner, he answered his panicked daughter's question.

"Sshhhhush, Mare... Mama's asleep." Jock shook his head slightly and said, with disappointment, "Fact is, THAT'S why we left the contest and came home. SOMEONE there CHEATED. They must've slipped a 'Mickey' into your Mama's lemonade at the 10:00 p.m. break, because she about passed out on the floor."

Smoothly drawing his hand across Mary's bottom to her left globe, Jock rubbed deep firm circles into the muscle while he talked on. "I only just barely got us on the last streetcar home. She's still in her dress, snoring... has been since about midnight." Tilting his face he gazed openly into Mary's wide hazel eyes and let go of her right hand. "And I have been sitting HERE waiting for YOU." On his final word, Jock jabbed his left index finger against his daughter's solar plexus and pressed solidly.

Mary felt like she had been stabbed. A hot lancing flash flared straight through to her spine and then fell like a fiery curtain, burning a swath from her chest to her cunny. She asked, tremulously, "Wh-wh-what do you w-w-want, Papa?"

Jock scowled, smacked her flank smartly and abruptly sat again on his chair. With a half twist, he pulled Mary forward and down by her left arm until she lay, bottom up, across his legs. His green-striped white cotton pajamas felt cool to her burning breasts and itching pussy. Involuntarily, she wiggled against him as he spread his knees and supported her.

He struck her quivering moons again and hissed, through clenched teeth, "I already TOLD you once: I want to know WHO you were with and WHERE." He crashed his palm once more and added, "And don't LIE to me. THAT will only make your punishment WORSE."

Mary wailed, "But, PAPA!"

Jock walloped her a fourth time. "THIS is the 'butt' Papa is interested in at the moment, young lady... now WHO have you been with?" Mary's pale creamy skin, now mottled with carnelian welts, was hot to his touch as he paused the spanking and gave her an opportunity to collect her wits and answer. Jock smoothly soothed his palm over her butt, up to her mid-back, and then gently worked increasingly wider whorls between, and over, her shoulder blades.

Mary, despite her humiliation and pain from the paddling, moaned with pleasure under the sweet massage. Her cunny leaked and her nipples, pressed against Jock's left thigh and knee, ached. She whimpered as her confusion and tension mounted. Jock raised his left hand and stroked her hair while he continued to knead her fleshy lower back with occasional dips to her afflicted ass, which was swiftly recovering from his spanks. "I'm sorry, Mare," he said after a long silence, broken only by his daughter's incoherent garbles. "I can't make out your words... Just take a breath and tell me the boy's name, won't you?"

"Let me up, please, Papa... My bottom's sore and my head's dizzy." Mary pleaded her case softly. "I'll tell you. I promise."

"Alright, Mare," Jock replied. His bottled up anger over his daughter's deceit was fully exorcised and he had no heart to continue her punishment. He slid his hands along her sides and pulled her upright by her underarms as he widened his spread right knee and guided her to stand, faced away, between his legs. He leaned in, laid his left cheek flat against her naked back and said, softly, "I'm listening." And he was. Her pulse and breath roared in his ear like the ocean's sound in a seashell.

"His name is Teddy, Papa," Mary confessed. "And I LOVE him... he is wonderful and handsome and sweet. And HE loves ME!" Forgetting her nudity, Mary pivoted in her father's arms and hugged his neck. "Oh PLEASE, Papa! I'll do ANYTHING, but PLEASE don't be mean to Teddy or say I can't see him." Jock's face, no longer flat to Mary's back, was now buried straight on between her soft firm full breasts. His left hand, between her scapulae, naturally and automatically pressed her hard against his nose as he reflexively kissed her sternum. His right hand plied figure-eights around her heart-shaped buttocks. He groaned as he felt his dick swell in his pajamas.

Suddenly Mary realized their dynamic was changed; a strange power reversal had occurred. Her father was still her father, but he was also a man, just like Teddy was a man. And she was a woman - a desirable woman - who could help herself by using her desirability. Her epiphany was complete.

Mary wove her fingers in her father's hair and queried, "Papa? OK, Papa?" Instinctively, she shimmied her tits and sat on Jock's lap. Straddling his legs, she rocked up on her toes. She felt his breath escape as he sighed into her valley. She bent her neck and kissed the top of his head as she sat back down. His fat cock struggled to breathe outside air through his pajama's vent. Mary widened her stance and slid back an inch on Jock's thighs. His prick popped up and sniffed her pussy.

Jock pulled his face out of Mary's cleavage and latched solidly onto her right tit top, drawing the entire broad budding halo and its pebble deep into his mouth. Mary inhaled a sharp breath and hauled his head hard onto her as her cunny soaked itself. She mewled and her father growled. They rocked forward and back and side to side as he suckled for no result but pure pleasure.

"Unnhh... PA-pahhh," Mary sighed. Her long exhale sent shivers down Jock's back. She clawed her fingers down his scalp and squeezed them into his shoulder tops.

Jock broke free from Mary's boob and stood. Embracing her, he exclaimed, "Mary! CHRIST ALMIGHTY! MARY!"

Shocked by her father's language, but hearing no anger in his voice, Mary stared over his shoulder, sensing he had felt a change, just as she had. Her hands worked autonomically. She pushed his pajama bottoms past his hips and then silenced his profanity with an undeniable deep kiss. Jock waltzed her backward along the window sills and then drove both their bodies, bouncing, onto Mary's iron single bed.

"Oooommmph!" Mary's wind rushed from her lungs as her father's two hundred and twenty pounds crashed on her chest, pressing her shoulders and hips deep into her patchwork quilt coverlet. She raised her legs, locked her ankles around his hips and clung to his neck reactively. Jock was a beast unleashed. His blood was up and the scent was in his flared nostrils. Without grace or consideration, he skewered his daughter's cunt.

Mary snugged her snatch tightly around her father's ramming rod. Although it was shorter and thinner than Trotter's joint and moved in her with simpler, more direct strokes, Jock's energetic erection was immensely satisfying. Her mind counted the cadence while his soldier solidly marched to the drumbeats of the dancing iron bed's feet and the squeaking fifes of the mattress and frame springs.

Jock huffed and grunted while Mary puffed and panted. He had not realized, until his cock was buried, how much, or for how long, he had wanted to fuck his little girl. He had repressed his growing lustful fantasies to the point that he no longer knew he had them. But now she had ripped the cover off and was tapping his keg.

Mary scratched and kicked with every plunge and retreat. Her hard rapid short breaths supercharged her young pussy as it grabbed Jock's pounding piston. She came quickly and cried repeatedly, "POKE me, PAH pa! POKE me, PAH pa!" Her orgasm redoubled. She bit her plump lower lip, crunched her butt and arched her back, babbling, "MORE! DO it MORRRRR!"

Jock's impatient balls drew tight in their shrinking bag and let fly. He lunged to his maximum depth, flexing his ass, gut and cock. With a triumphal "YEAHHHH!" he closed his fists tight around Mary's tits and dumped his load, with abandon, into her contracted canal.

Their eternity lasted one minute from start to finish. Emotionally and physically drained, Jock backed out of Mary's flooded cunt and stood between the dormer windows. He looked at his limp teenage woman-child, laying spread-eagled on her quilt, catching her breath. Remorsefully, he said, in a sad low voice, "This cannot ever happen again. I'm SO sorry, Mary. Forgive me." Stepping forward, he bent over and added, "Bring Teddy by sometime... I'd like... to MEET him. I'll be nice, I promise."

Mary raised up on her elbows suddenly and kissed Jock warmly. "THANK you, Papa," she buzzed against his lips. "You'll LIKE him, I know it." She hung her chin on her father's shoulder and cooed, "but I don't want you to feel bad about... THIS. I won't ever say anything to anyone. Don't worry." She ran her hands lightly up and down his back, enjoying how his pajama top slid over his strong muscles. "AND, if you DO want to ever DO it again, that'll be OK, TOO."

Letting go, Mary lay back down with a light laugh and said, "You should go check on Mama... I'll fix us breakfast after I take a little nap!"

Jock found his pajama bottoms and stepped into them as Mary turned over and pulled her quilt around her naked shoulders. He did not see her smile, or hear her satisfied sigh, as he turned and silently left the garret, knowing that their relationship, for better or worse, had been changed forever.

When Mary woke up again, she heard her mother bustling around downstairs. Mixed cooking aromas and assorted dish clatters drifted up through the open door. She got up and kicked her toes into a pair of cloth scuffs while she shrugged into the brown woolen bathrobe she pulled from her wardrobe. She ignored its scratchiness as she tied its sash.

She was headed for the kitchen when she heard her father humming indistinctly in the big bathroom. The door was open and he stood shaving in front of the porcelain basin. Bits of steam hung high in the air as he scraped soap and whiskers from his face with a cut-throat razor. Mary stared. She had seen him, on many a Sunday morning, in his undershirt, boxers, shoes, and long stockings held up by garters. But, today was different.

She waited while Jock swished his razor, wiped his face and splashed himself with rosewater and talc. Slipping up behind him, Mary breathed softly, "Good morning, Papa." She poked her forefinger tip behind his left earlobe and flicked away a bit of dried soap which had escaped Jock's water and towel. "You missed a spot," she added, as she inhaled his scent.

"Thanks, Mare," Jock said affably. "And 'good morning' to you, TOO." He looked at her face, reflected over his shoulder. "It's getting late. Aren't you going to church? You KNOW how your Mama feels about that."

"Yes, I know, Papa. I'll have time to dress after breakfast." She laid herself up against her father's back and lightly crossed her arms over his flat stomach. He reflexively rolled his shoulder blades against her swelling wool-clad breasts and regretted it immediately.

Jock was in excellent physical condition, thanks to a lifetime of hard work and clean living. He did not smoke and Prohibition was no penalty for him because he had never taken to drink, even when he could. He had seen plenty of fellow warehousemen go to ruin, or get hurt, because they did not take care of themselves. Now, with work scarce and money tight, more than ever he was not going to jeopardize his ability to support his family for a jolt of rotgut gin or a pack of Camels.

He felt nervous as Mary melted against him. Their earlier impromptu and improper fuck haunted his conscience. Jock looked at her gold-and-cream plaid sleeves merging with the cotton ribs of his thin undershirt and bravely tried to direct her toward safer ground. Beaming at his daughter through the mirror, he asked, nonchalantly, "Does this 'Teddy' fellow's folks have a telephone? You could call him up and ask him to take supper with us today. I promised I'd be nice, remember."

"Oh, I don't know, Papa," Mary said quietly into Jock's nape. "I remember your promise, though... I'll look in the telephone directory for a listing, if you think Mama wouldn't mind." Lowering her right hand, Mary patted her father's package through his boxers. "Papa? Can I SEE you, please?" She pleaded plaintively, "It was DARK and I was TIRED, before... I didn't get a good LOOK at what FELT so good."

Jock's cock twitched at her light touch. He quickly dropped his right hand onto hers, intent upon removing her from his privates. Mary covered his paw with her left hand, just as swiftly, and pressed their combined extremities between his legs. Her lower palm curled around Jock's thickening prick and pushed it decisively down, bisecting his big balls in their loose hammock. Meanwhile, her upper fingers casually scratched the bones on the back of her father's trapped hand.

"So... CAN I, Papa? PLEASE?" Mary's soft insistent tone and firm grip worried Jock.

He said, as forcefully as he could without raising his voice, "Mare! STOP it... your MAMA..."

"...is fixing biscuits, so we need to be quick." Mary finished his sentence in a way Jock would not have done. Pulling her hand free from his, she wormed through his shorts' fly and seized his halfway erect penis. Balancing herself on her right leg, she extended her left foot and pushed the bathroom door closed. "THERE! We still have to be fast, but even if Mama steps into the hall, she won't see anything... WILL she!"