Breasts are odd things. On some people they seem to spring into prominence overnight while with others it's a long drawn-out process. Marissa found that she had a combination of these processes.
Her breasts started to develop at the onset of puberty, just after she reached age thirteen. They developed quite nicely and by the age of fifteen she had a nice pair of breasts. Not overly large, but certainly noticeable, and she noticed the boys noticing. There was no real change through years fifteen through seventeen, her breasts continuing to grow slightly but not providing her with an over-abundance of boob, as it were. She was content with what she had, even if she did wish that they were just a little more prominent.
It was the winter leading up to her eighteenth birthday that things changed. She had a late growth spurt, putting on an unexpected inch of height and a totally unexpected several inches were added to her bust line. It was a case of be careful what you wish for; the wish might be granted.
The cold winter months had meant that her new attributes were hidden under coats and jackets and various warm tops. With spring and the warmer weather came lighter tops and a sudden surge of interest from the male population.
Despite the increase in male attention Marissa was still reasonably innocent and slightly naïve, attributing the extra attention to her height and sparkling personality. She would have been shocked if you'd told her that a few significant inches counted for more than a sparkling personality.
To add to her income Marissa did baby-sitting jobs. On this particular Saturday afternoon she was sitting for Mr Manders. Mr Manders was a recently separated husband. Part of the arrangement with his wife, soon to be ex-wife, was that he had the children every second Saturday. The trouble with that, from Mr Manders point of view, was that he found it hard to cope with four small children for a full day. That's where Marissa came in.
She would arrive after lunch and help entertain the children until their mother picked them up. The money she earned was always useful when going out on a Saturday night.
This particular Saturday there was a problem. Mrs Manders rang through to say she was unavoidably delayed and would be picking the children up a little late. Marissa didn't mind but Mr Manders and the children did. Mr Manders objected because he had some mates coming around for a poker game. The kids minded because they'd decided they wanted their mother and they were becoming fractious. Marissa soothed all parties, telling Mr Manders to go ahead with his game as she'd keep an eye on the kids, and telling the kids to stop whining as their mother was on her way and wouldn't want to see them whining. She escorted the kids into the back yard and played with them, idly hoping that they'd be so tired and grumpy when Mrs Manders arrived that she'd never dare be late again.
Mrs Manders was delayed a little longer and Mr Manders poker pals arrived, setting up their game around the kitchen table. Marissa had met the men previously and gave them a polite greeting when she met them in the kitchen. Mrs Manders arrived and Marissa ran around gathering up children and belongings, passing them over to Mr Manders to deliver them to the car.
Mr Manders came back and paid Marissa. While waiting there had seemed to be some sort of debate going on with the remaining poker players. Now one of them spoke up.
"Hey, Charlie, is Marissa the same Marissa who used to sit at your place with your wife or a different girl of the same name?"
Mr Manders and Marissa were both a little startled at the comment. Why would they think Marissa was someone else?
"Ah, same girl. Why?"
"Told you," the questioner said triumphantly. "That means she's wearing falsies. Probably a padded bra."
"Don't be stupid," growled another player. "Same girl but still natural breasts. They're all her."
The debate seemed to be two in favour of a padded bra, one for all Marissa, Mr Manders amused, and Marissa incensed.
"What's your opinion, Charlie? Padded or not?"
Having it put directly to him Mr Manders came down on the side of natural. A fifty-fifty split.
The player who'd first proclaimed Marissa must have had a padded bra turned to her.
"Well, which is it, girl? Padded or you?"
"None of your damned business," said Marissa, smiling sweetly.
"Silly asking her, Joe," observed another player. "If she did tell you she'd just say they were real. How would you prove otherwise?"
"Easy," said Joe. He pulled out a ten dollar note and slapped it down on the table. "Ante up boys and we'll pay her to show us."
That won him some good-natured laughter and a glare from Marissa. She was surprised to find the other players pulling out ten each and adding it to Joe's ten. Mr Manders paused for a moment and then added a second ten.
"How about it, Marissa?" he asked. "There's now fifty sitting there. All yours and all you have to do is take off your top and bra to show they're one hundred percent natural."
Marissa looked at the money and then gave the men a nasty look. She looked at the money again. It was tempting. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks and all she had to do was show her breasts.
"No touching," she warned.
Mr Manders lifted both hands, palms out, taking a step back.
"Hands to ourselves. Eyes only," he agreed.
Marissa hesitated a moment longer then picked up the money and tucked it in her pocket. Not looking directly at any of the men she took off her top and unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Then she stood there, head high, a slight smile on her lips. The men all had their eyes glued to her and she knew it.
"Man, oh, man," breathed Joe. "Those are a wonder of nature. Never have I been so happy to be wrong."
There were a number of complimentary comments, all of which Marissa lapped up, a cat with her personal bowl of cream. She was reaching for her things when Joe spoke quickly.
"Wait a minute," he said. "Just hang on a second."
He pulled out a twenty this time.
"Come on you cheap bastards," he said. "Ten each to take it up to fifty. How about it Marissa? Another fifty to drop your skirt and panties so we can see you nude. You will be a sight to behold."
"Oh, I don't know about that," said Marissa, while the men were quickly putting their tens on the table.
"What harm can it do?" asked Joe. "We're just looking, after all. It's another easy fifty for you."
Marissa shook her head dubiously, while the men made a few comments, all the comments polite but flattering. She looked around at her attentive audience. Another easy fifty, they said, but they didn't have to take of their panties in front of a bunch of men. Still, they were only looking. Like Joe said, what harm could it do?
What the hell, she'd only be naked for a few moments and they didn't have any cameras. Well, apart from their phones and their phones weren't out on the table. Irritated with herself she picked up the money and put it in her pocket with the rest. Then, slowly and nervously, she dropped her skirt and panties.
For a few moments there was complete silence from the men, apart from a long low whistle of appreciation from Joe.
"I do like a girl who shaves," murmured Mr Manders.
"I'll go along with that," muttered one of the others. "A lot of lovely curves there, all flowing from one to the other, drawing your eye down to interesting places."
Marissa blushed listening to the comments, feeling flattered. It was actually quite a kick having men look at her like that. Still, enough was enough. She bent down to grab her panties.
"How old are you, Marissa," asked Joe.
"Eighteen," said Mr Manders before she could reply. "She turned eighteen about a month ago."
"Quite legal then," someone observed.
