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All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.
Mary McGuinness loved her little cunt. She thought its pale blonde downy fuzz and thin central groove made it look like a peach. Moreover, she loved to fiddle it until its thick sticky juice coated her fingers and her breath was taken away by the rushing sensation which always accompanied the flooding fluids. At eighteen, with five years of experienced experimentation behind her, she was expert at thrilling herself.
Her little pussy was such an easy reach that she could play with it almost anywhere or anytime. In fact, lately she derived extra pleasure when she knew a man or a boy was watching, but they did not know that she knew. She saw no harm in teasing. “After all,” she would think to herself, “It’s not as if THEY are touching me!” She was very proud that her father and uncle were the only males who had ever kissed her, and then only on the cheek. When she had danced with school chums, just to learn how, she very carefully maintained a proper distance when her partner held her.
On this warm afternoon, in late May, 1930, during her final year at George Washington High School, Mary sat modestly dressed in a mid-calf length forest green cotton smock with gold camellias splashed in a big bold pattern. She tapped the toes of her shiny black Mary Janes and yawned with boredom while a substitute English teacher read translated excerpts from the epic poem, ‘Parzifal’ by Wolfram von Eschenbach. Stifling another yawn, she wished Mrs. Anderson had not gotten sick. This new teacher was young, and he was handsome enough to look at, but Mrs. Anderson never read anything out loud. She usually just sat quietly at her desk while her twenty-three senior students copied each other’s compositions or drew naughty pictures in their notebooks.
As Mary listened to Mr. Trotter’s expressive stentorian baritone voice, her left hand drifted below the steel belly of her wooden flip-top desk while her right hand crept diagonally across her own tummy and rested on her ribcage. She was hardly aware of her actions until she felt her fingers begin to caress her left thigh and gently squeeze the swelling underside of her left breast through her clothes. She smiled like Mona Lisa as a familiar dreamy warm sensation built in her pussy and her throbbing nipples.
Tommy Watson, on Mary’s right, coughed softly and surreptitiously pointed at her. Marty Bolger and Bill Yates lifted their heads from their tic-tac-toe game. Soon all three boys were staring at Mary, hoping that she would, as she had in the past, provide them with some amusement. Even though she made them ache and sweat, the boys enjoyed their discomfort and were ever alert for repeat episodes. Of course, they never let on they were watching for fear she would change her strange habit.
Marty already had his trousers unbuttoned as a precaution. Tommy twisted his body in his swivel chair and clutched his crotch through his corduroys. Bill hunched forward. His critical view was restricted, but he at least had a good angle on her hips, which sometimes moved quite a lot when she got going.
The substitute teacher also saw the developing show. In fact, he had the best view, over the cover of von Eschenbach’s book, as he read the selected passages. His problem, after he watched Mary’s left hand dive between her thighs and drive her flimsy dress skirting upward against their junction, was keeping his place in the verses. After a few moments he gave up trying and closed ‘Parzifal.’
Looking at the big wall clock, Mr. Trotter scanned the classroom and said, “Well, you have all been a terrific audience and I appreciate that this great epic romance is probably not what you expected to hear about today.” He smiled at the room and continued, “And there’s ANOTHER lesson for you: Expect surprises and you may be less surprised by the unexpected.” Trotter laughed lightly and concluded, “As a reward, and because this is the last period of the day and the week, you are excused early. By which, I mean, NOW! Have a great weekend.”
The classroom burst into noise as desks opened and slammed shut. The kids jockeyed for position and chattered amongst themselves as they scurried out the front and rear doors. Mary, caught unawares by the sudden announcement, was still sitting in her desk when the last student fled. Trotter quietly closed and locked the exits. After pulling the doors window shades down, he crossed the room, between the desk rows, to the opposite outside wall.
As he passed behind her seat, Mr. Trotter said, “Miss McGuinness, please go to the blackboard and wait there for me. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” With a quizzical look and a small shrug, Mary walked to the front of the room. She watched, with mild interest, while the substitute teacher closed all the venetian blinds on the tall windows and approached her. At Mrs. Anderson’s big oak desk, Trotter turned the tall straight chair and sat, facing Mary, with his knees apart. “Stand near me,” he quietly commanded. His tone pendik escort was even, but the imperative was clear.
As she stepped forward and stood between his legs, Mary wondered what was going on. Wordlessly, Edward Trotter took her hand. The same hand she had been rubbing against her pussy through her clothes. The dry warmth from his large palm enveloped her. Her peach moistened and her tummy turned over. He raised her fingers to his face, imagining a faint sex-scent there as he sniffed her fingernails. Kissing the tender tips, he closed his lips around the first joints of her three longest digits. Her pinky naturally poked the crease at right corner of his watering mouth.
The unexpected sensitivity of this little act made Mary’s cunt quite keen. She inhaled sharply as a pleasure pang pierced her chest. Still silently nibbling her knuckles, Trotter lowered his left hand and slid it up Mary’s calf, under the hem of her thin green dress and thinner beige rayon chemise. Resting his curved palm on Mary’s hip, he removed her fingers from his mouth and crabbed the dress and lingerie material up her left side with her own hand in his.
Mary lifted her right hand to her teacher’s face but, instead of slapping him for his unrequested advances, she ran the backs of her knuckles down his cheek. Reversing her fingers at his lips, she pushed them past his pearly teeth and hooked her thumb under his chin. Trotter accepted the offered replacements and sucked gently while he traversed her abdomen with his left hand and untied her bloomers’ drawstring. Mary, fidgeting at his soft tugging touch, freed both her hands and braced herself on his shoulders.
Swiftly, Mr. Trotter pulled the balloon-legged cotton underwear to Mary’s knees, then raised her skirts to her waist. Beads of honeyed dew glistened on her downy mound. Her nether lips beckoned with a thin smile. Content to let Mary’s dress drape his wrists, he squeezed her bottom with his right hand while his left addressed her peach’s perfect slit. He lightly fingered up and down, gliding ever more easily within her increasingly slick track.
Mary squirmed her hips involuntarily, bit her lower lip and hummed with the attention. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back. Her shoulder length blonde hair fell like a curtain as her throat tightened. In her entranced mounting pleasure and tension, Mary’s fingers, unbidden, unbuttoned her dress front. Grinning, Trotter watched as she danced and shrugged until the bodice loosely fell past her shoulders; rippling down her upper arms.
Abandoning her behind for a moment, he unhooked the simple bra band beneath her chemise and slid all her undergarment straps down to her elbows, revealing pert tits, puffed areolae and stiff nipples. Pausing only briefly, to admire her proud pale chest, the teacher pulled the dress, chemise, bra and bloomers into a pool of green, gold, ivory and beige around Mary’s Mary Janes, then resumed carefully stroking her slippery slice until her legs were weak.
Once again bracing her hands on his shoulders, but this time to keep her jelly knees from failing, Mary wiggled and moaned. Her feelings were so much stronger and compelling than when she played with herself. Gasping, she came on his busy fingers while he teased her breasts with light kisses and gripped her bottom with an iron hand.
Rising to his feet, Mr. Trotter picked his panting student up, turned about and stood her, facing him, on the big chair’s hard wooden seat. “I think you must agree, this is a little bit different from teasing young cocks , Miss McGuinness,” he growled huskily. Leaning in, he used his tongue like a comb and parted Mary’s silken pubic fuzz.
She mewled what Edward took for an endorsement and clutched his head to her cunt. Her burrowing fingers raked his scalp and ruffled his formerly well groomed haircut. Trotter slithered in her rubbery rut and tickled her from the guarded rim of her virgin vaginal opening to her stout exposed clitoris. For a second time he pushed Mary around the bend and made her come. She squealed and whimpered as she squirted prodigiously. Trotter reveled in the induced juicy torrent greasing his lips, cheeks and nose. She smelled and tasted wonderful. His hard prick protested its imprisonment.
When Mary was quiet once more, Mr. Trotter helped her down from the chair and place her hands flat on the bulge in his cream colored pleated flannel trousers. Her surprised open mouth drew in a gasped “OH!” when, for the first time, her fingers felt a man’s erection. Edward pulled her against him and kissed her deeply. He stuffed his curled tongue through her rounded portal and traced the back of her upper teeth. She moaned and fumbled with his belt as he mauled her mouth and growled into her throat. When his buttons were at last undone, his stiff shaft rose from his boxers and happily pushed itself into her small fist.
Trotter turned Mary a quarter turn and laid her backward onto Mrs. Anderson’s oak desktop. Holding her spread legs steady maltepe escort with his hands on her white anklet socks, high up near his shoulders, he stepped in close as Mary guided his sword to her sheath. Her cunt lips sweetly parted and kissed his velvet spongy bulb as he introduced his hardness to her tight tiny hole.
She squinted her eyes and studied the teacher’s face. He smiled, leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. She grinned back, and then winced, as he drove his dick’s head through her hymen. The instant of searing stinging pain was gone nearly before she could fully register it. A wave of warmth flashed upward from her pussy through her stomach and fanned out across her chest behind her lungs. She inhaled deeply and let out a long slow sigh.
Trotter held himself motionless. His helmet was fully parked while Mary polished the rest of his suit of armor with her sliding fist. She began grunting and he felt her cunt’s muscles squeeze and release around him. Pushing forward, he tested her receptivity. She yelped. Twitching her bottom, she lifted off the desk and met his thrust.
Edward pulled back and reseated his prick with a deeper shove. Mary hitched her hips again, sinking him a further two inches into her furrow. He gave out a guttural groan of his own. Raising her hands to her chest, she seized her naked breasts and pinched her throbbing nipples as Trotter picked up the pace.
He slung his pelvis forward and back with an easy pendulum motion, driving deeper and staying longer with each repetition, until Mary squeaked and yipped insensibly. Trotter felt her channel collapse and watched her stomach muscles ripple as she arched her back and came rocking around his cock. In concert with her convulsions, he snorted and anointed her virgin vessel with his oily seed.
Mary thrashed and clawed herself for several long seconds as Trotter pounded her and pumped his well to completion. When they both were done, he withdrew a large muslin handkerchief from the inside pocket of his linen blazer, wrapped it tightly around his prick and exited her excited pussy. The clean cloth leeched pink with Mary’s deflowered flow as he plugged her leaking cunt and swabbed her trembling inner thighs. She heard his gentle voice asking, “Well, now, Mary McGuinness… What did you think of THAT?”
“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Trotter!” Mary exclaimed breathlessly. “That was the cat’s whiskers! I got all dizzy and felt so… so… HOT!” She propped herself up on her elbows, tilted her head questioningly and continued in a rush, “Was that how it’s SUPPOSED to be? Can we do it AGAIN? I want to feel you IN me some more… it was ACES!”
Edward Trotter laughed aloud at Mary’s over-the-top joy. While he pulled up his shorts and flannels, and stowed away his blood-smeared cock, he said, “AB-so-LUTE-ly that’s how it’s supposed to be… and we can ‘DO it’ again and again and again… but not right now.” He pointed to her ruby-tinged fringe. “School’s out, Mary. You should go home. Your ‘cat’s whiskers’ need cleaning.” He handed her piled clothes. “Come on and get dressed, now. Mr. Ford could be here any time to wipe the blackboards and dump the trash. It wouldn’t do for him to see you, or me, like this!”
Grinning happily, Mary slid off Mrs. Anderson’s desk. She stepped her feet, still in her Mary Janes and socks, through her bloomers’ legs, pulled them up and tied their waist string. As she wormed her way into her other clothes, she giggled, “I guess you’re right about THAT, Mr. Trotter. But WHEN can we do it again?” She fastened her last button and hugged the substitute teacher tight. “I don’t want to wait TOO long!”
Mr. Trotter ran his hands softly across her shoulders and down Mary’s arms. Squeezing and shaking her with light assurance, he said, “How about tomorrow? My little shanty is at 46 1/2 Garvey Street, just off Central Avenue. There’s a gate in the fence along the alley between Garvey and Holmes.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come see me after noon. It’s quiet, cozy and we’re sure not to be disturbed.”
Mary looked at the classroom wall clock. Distraught, she whined, “After NOON? That’s practically a WHOLE DAY away!” She craned her neck, kissed her teacher, then beseeched, “Can’t I COME any SOONER than THAT?”
Trotter shook his head. “Well, maybe… but not with me!” He chuckled at his innuendo. “Mr. Farragut, who owns the property where I rent, lives on the same lot in the big house at Number 46. On Saturdays he goes to the park at 11:30 in the morning, plays chess all afternoon, and then takes supper with his sister across the river. He won’t be home again until at least 10:00 p.m.” Pulling Mary close, Trotter squeezed her breath away and swatted her butt smartly. “THAT’S why I said ‘after NOON’… now be a patient girl and I’ll tutor you… TOMORROW!”
“OUCH!” Mary dropped her left hand from Mr. Trotter’s waist and rubbed her struck cheek. “Well, OK… I’ll be patient.” Turning, she retrieved her books from her desk and headed for the front kartal escort door while Edward unlocked and held it open for her. Passing by him as she stepped through, Mary brushed her left hand across his flannels’ pleats and pinched his soft, but still quite thick, prick. “But YOU better be READY for me!”
Trotter coughed and gently pushed his hand between her shoulder blades, urging her into the hall, just as Mr. Ford turned the corner into the corridor. “You’re welcome, Miss McGuinness.” His booming voice carried down the hall. “I’m glad I could help. Now, run along and enjoy your weekend!”
Mary’s sack dress draped loose, from the leading edge of her bust to her kneecaps. When her mother sewed it for her, from three old ‘Quaker Oats Ful-O-Pep Egg Mash’ bags, it had hung in a straight vertical drop a further three inches. But, that was over eight months ago. Mary had grown more than an inch in height and her figure had filled out significantly through the winter and early spring.
In fact, her growth spurt was so remarkable that even her normally oblivious father had not failed to notice. “Isabel,” he said to his wife at the supper table, one evening in late March. “Our little Mary is not so little anymore… she has grown into quite a handsome young lady.” Mary had blushed at the comment.
“Yes, dear,” Isabel replied. “You’re right… she is blossoming into womanhood; right before our very eyes, it seems.” Mary’s nape and ears burned. She was glad her long blonde hair hid them as she dipped her chin to her chest, hoping to hide her bright flushed cheeks.
“Well, Isabel,” Jock McGuinness continued, “Even though we aren’t Rockefellers, I think maybe we should get her some store-bought dresses and such to wear to school and church.” He smiled across the table at his wife and daughter. “You’ve done great work making her frocks from scraps, but she’ll be eighteen in less than two weeks. Shall we use some of the mattress money? Call it her birthday present?”
Mary’s heart leapt to her throat when she heard her mother say, “That’s a good idea, dear. I’ll take her to J.C. Penney and we’ll have a little spree.” Isabel turned to Mary and asked, “Won’t that be FUN, honey? No more muslin, homespun or sack scraps?”
“Oh, my yes, Mama! Thank you, Papa!” Mary bounded from her chair, kissed Jock on his stubbly cheek, then ran to the other end of the table and smooched Isabel, before fleeing so they would not see her excited tears.
Now, six weeks later, and eighteen hours after surrendering herself to Mr. Trotter, Mary stood sweeping the McGuinness back porch at East Oak Avenue; dreaming about what her afternoon would be like. She bent over and pulled an uncooperative leaf from the broom straws just as her mother opened the kitchen door. Through the screen, Isabel got an eyeful of underwear ruffles beneath the dress hem which had ridden up the backs of Mary’s thighs. She announced her presence with a cough and said, when Mary straightened up, “Honey, could you come in the house, please?”
“Yes, Mama,” Mary answered, with a final swish of the broom over the porch edge. “I’ve just finished my chores.” She opened the screen and stepped into the house. As she put the broom away in the utility closet, she noticed Isabel was in fancy evening dress. “Gosh, Mama, you look nice,” she complimented, while thinking how odd it was for her mother to be gussied up in the middle of a Saturday morning.
“Thank you, honey. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Isabel stepped close to her daughter and idly brushed nonexistent tangles from the girl’s blonde hair. “Your Papa and I are going to the Knights of Columbus Hall… they’re holding a charity marathon dance contest that starts at ten-thirty. It’s going to last for twenty-four hours and every couple that is still dancing when it ends tomorrow morning will get a ten dollar bag of groceries from the A & P, PLUS a five-pound HAM!” She kissed Mary’s forehead and continued, “So, you’re going to be on your own for lunch, supper, and breakfast, too… We’ll be home in time for church and then we can all have fun reloading the pantry. Imagine… a whole HAM!”
“My goodness, Mama,” Mary enthused, “that WILL be something. I’ll be rooting for you!”
“Thank you, honey. I know you will.” Seemingly as an afterthought, but actually not, Isabel added, “By the way… you really truly HAVE outgrown that dress you’re wearing. When you were fussing with the broom just now, I could see your drawers as plain as day. You’re grown UP now. A LADY has to be always aware of herself. I certainly don’t want you to do housework in your nice school clothes, but you can’t prance around showing off the world’s fair, either.” She patted Mary’s cheek gently. “We’ll figure out something… but, in the MEANTIME… would you practice bending your knees when you stoop? It’s more modest.”
Mary knitted her brow. “There’s just you and me and Papa here, Mama,” she observed, “and there’s no one in the back yard to see me on the porch.” She decided she should remain silent about how she did not mind giving boys sneak peeks now and then, or teasing them, like yesterday. Her pussy moistened as she thought about yesterday and Mr. Trotter. That was something else her mother did not need to know about.
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