The Substitute

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old

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Jock McGuinness wrote the small slam score under the 'They' column on his notepad and tallied the rubber. He looked across the table at Mary, then left and right to Isabel and Ted. With a congenial smile and a breezy voice, he announced, "Well, you skunked us THAT time." Just then the Kienzle mantle clock in the parlor set off its hourly Westminster chime.

Jock cocked his ear and listened to the soft following strikes drifting through the open kitchen door. "Ten o'clock and all's well," he laughed, "if we don't look too closely at the score, Mare." He pushed his one gathered trick to the center of the table and sat back in his chair. "That was good bridge, but what say we call it a night? Ted has a trolley to catch... or a long walk."

Mary reached across the table and put her small hand on her father's wrist as he lay down his pencil. "I'm sorry, Papa," she apologized. "I didn't meant to finesse you out of your queen on the opening lead."

"Oh, piffle!" Jock generously disregarded her lament. "It was fifty-fifty... Isabel might have found it herself. 'Fourth best from your longest suit,' is a perfectly acceptable blind lead." He pushed back from the table, stood and stretched.

Edward Trotter, the young mathematics teacher at George Washington High School, stood with him and extended his right hand. "Thanks, Jock," he said. Looking then at Mrs. McGuinness, he nodded and added, "And YOU, Izzy. Supper was delicious, the hospitality was aces..." He paused, dropped his arm lightly around Mary's shoulders as she remained seated to his left, and concluded, "AND the company couldn't be beat!"

Eighteen-year-old Mary blushed at Trotter's compliment and felt a familiar inner tension as his retreating fingertips burned a fiery path across the back of her neck. Isabel rose, smiling, then stepped around the table corner and stood at Jock's side. "You are always welcome here, Ted. We hope to see you often." Directing her attention to her daughter, she continued, "It's still a school night... even for graduating seniors, honey. Say 'good night' to Ted and excuse yourself, please."

"Oh, Mama," Mary protested, "I wanted to walk him to the corner and show him where the streetcar stops."

Jock supported his wife and chimed in with an even, but no-nonsense, tone, "I'm sure he'll manage just fine, Mare. Now, go on and do as your Mama says."

Sighing, Mary obediently stood and moved around to Trotter. "Good night... Teddy." She said his nickname under her breath then returned to her normal voice. "See you tomorrow." She gave him a quick peck on his cheek and etched the wonderful soft sensation and his manly scent into her mind.

"Good night, Mary," Trotter said, with an affectionate air. "Remember, please, at school I am 'Mr. Trotter' and NOT your boyfriend."

Mary kissed him again on the same hot spot on his cheek, not caring that her parents were watching. "I'll remember, 'Mr. TROTTER'... I can be VERY discreet." She looked meaningfully at her father. Running his right index finger along the inside of his shirt collar, Jock scrunched his neck to distract from any other revealing reaction to Mary's coded message.

"Alright, honey," Isabel said patiently. "You've made your point and we all appreciate that Ted... MR. TROTTER... is special in your life. Now, SCOOT, OK?" Savoring her victory, Mary went upstairs while Jock collected the bridge decks and returned them to the parlor.

Mary stripped in front of her wardrobe, carefully putting away her 'Sunday Best', except for her silver silk chemise, which lay bunched in the closet's dark corner, ruined by Trotter's dried cum stains and her father's clutching hands. She picked up the discarded lingerie and carried it to the half-bath attached to her garret bedroom.

After peeing, Mary wiped her cunt while she held the spoiled silk to her nose and smelled Trotter's essence infused with the Arpège perfume she had applied yesterday before their tryst. A warm flowing sensation moved from her pussy to her tummy and back as she clutched the chemise and inhaled.

Mary dropped the used tissue into the toilet and thrust her middle fingers into her not-so-virgin, but, very tight, little twat. Moving slowly at first, with increasing speed as her need developed, she plunged deep while her thumb strummed her little hooded man. She rocked her shoulders side-to-side and moaned. She could almost taste Trotter's cheek where she had kissed him goodnight. Sucking her lips over her teeth, she groaned and came.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the front room, Isabel turned to Jock and said, "Mary DID have a good idea about showing Ted where to catch the trolley and I have a couple of things I want to discuss with him. You have to get up early for work, why don't you turn in?" She brushed her lips over her husband's cheek and planted a sweet kiss on his mouth. "I'll come in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Jock knitted his brow, but only said, "Alright, dear." Nodding toward Trotter, who was already near the front door, he called, "Really nice meeting you, Ted. You play a mean hand of bridge... look forward to a rematch." When Trotter acknowledged the compliment with a casual wave, Mr. McGuinness headed down the hall to the master bedroom.

Out on the covered front porch, Edward turned to Mrs. McGuinness and said quietly, "Gosh... Izzy... I think Jock's right about me being able to make it from your house to the corner of Oak Avenue and Quinaby Street by myself." He chuckled, reached out his right hand and gave her left cheek a wiggling little pinch. "So, what's this REALLY about?"

Isabel lifted her left hand and pulled his fingers from her face. "THIS is EXACTLY what it's about: I need to know your intentions regarding my daughter." She lowered their hands but did not let go. "Are you trifling with her? Why did you act like you did in the kitchen? Why are you acting like you are, right now? Does marriage and family mean NOTHING to you?" The porch light caught the flash of her eyes.

Unfazed, Trotter replied equably, "I LOVE 'family' and hope myself to marry and have children... perhaps with your lovely Mary, if you and Jock approve." He made no attempt to wrest his wrist from Isabel's grip, but instead ran his right hand smoothly, lightly, up her triceps from her elbow to her armpit. Applying pressure with his thumb, he pushed her upper arm against her body. The backs of his knuckles sunk, through her thin dress and slip, into the side of her heavy left breast.

"What about YOU, Izzy?" His low husky voice sung magically as he pushed his left hand, still in her grasp, behind her body and clutched the soft plump globe of her ungirdled ass. "Does marriage and family mean anything to YOU?" Tilting himself forward, Trotter drove Mrs. McGuinness back against the front door jamb and silenced any possible answer with a hard deep long kiss.

Isabel struggled, unable to think, or breathe. Her heart raced and electric jolts wreaked havoc with her nerves. Her cunt melted and her breasts hurt in a delicious way she had not felt in years. She snaked her free right arm through the gap between Trotter's forearm and ribs, clutched his back and pulled him tight against her. Moaning low in the back of her throat, she answered, incoherently through his crushing lips, "Yessss, ohhhnn, Yesssss."

Trotter broke the kiss and grinned in the shadows at Mary's mother's anxious hungry eyes and panting heaving bosom. He drug his left hand hard up her haunch. Crossing her ribs, he crushed her right breast. Her lingerie and dress were both feeble protectors, and active accomplices, as they slid on her skin and stimulated her nipple and crown.

Meanwhile he released her left arm. Cradling her chin in the webbing of his right hand and extending his thumb and forefinger firmly along her jaws, Edward aligned her open salivating mouth with his and hissed, "As for the KITCHEN, Izzy... THISSSS is what you wanted THERE and THEN... izzzzzn't it, IZZZZZY!" He smashed his lips against hers and twisted her face under his mashing mouth while he ground his hips into hers and palped her throbbing tit.

Isabel was ashamed for the truth. She felt Trotter's hard cock against her hot cunt. She wanted him. In her. She had wanted him when his hand touched hers as she received her flowers. She wanted him when she saw him staring at her; undressing her with his eyes. "God, help me," she thought, as she arched her back and forced her body into closer contact, "I WANT him NOW!"

Unable to speak, Isabel growled and moved her hands to the front of Trotter's pleated linen trousers. In moments, she had their front open and his thick hard cock in one fist while her other hand hefted and squeezed his full nuts. He rotated his pelvis slowly as she stroked his staff and tugged his sack.

Without breaking their kiss, Trotter raked his right hand down Isabel's throat, across her bodice and over her abdomen. Pulling frantically upward, he bunched her dress and slip until his hand slid on her bare belly under her panties' elastic band and into her wet forest. "Nyyyaaahh!" She bit the inside of her cheek as his fingers twitched her clitoris and brought her to orgasm.

Stretching her calves and lifting her ankles nearly free of her suede mules, Isabel spread her legs and slid her spine up the door frame. Trotter's hand drove her rayon underwear down to her stocking tops where it caught in her garters. She pulled his cock to her pussy and slipped her right hand around his buttocks. He thrust up and in, pinching her left hand between his balls and her thighs as he probed her depth with his pole.

Trotter did not know whether Mrs. McGuinness came again, or merely continued coming. Her gargling squalls were seemingly non-stop as she humped her ass off the doorway and clawed at him while he pumped. He wished he had been more mentally prepared. He might have lasted longer. Instead, he was her prophesized lamb's tail and not only did Isabel come in two shakes, so did he.

Withdrawing from Isabel's loaded cunt, Trotter stuffed his semi-stiff greased chub back into his shorts and buttoned his pants. She pulled her drawers up and straightened her dress as her breathing returned to normal. Trotter stepped in close and tenderly kissed her bruised lips. In a low soft voice he said, "Like I said earlier, Izzy: 'the hospitality was ACES.' He pulled out his Elgin pocket watch and saw he was dangerously close to missing his trolley. "Gotta run, Izzy! 46 1/2 Garvey Street... COME to MY house, next time!"

Isabel nodded weakly as she watched Trotter trot from the porch. When he disappeared into the darkness toward Quinaby Street, she sighed and went in the bungalow. Jock was already in bed with the covers drawn up to his chin and his eyes closed when she entered the room. Moving quietly around their big brass four-poster bed, Isabel foraged in her cedar chest until she found the white muslin nightgown she had worn on their wedding night in 1911.

She was still turned on from her fast fuck on the front porch and desperate to hold her loving husband. She hoped her gown would be the talisman she needed to rekindle the waning sparks in her marriage and put out the bonfire Mr. Trotter had built. She laid the nightgown on her side of the bed and turned to her wardrobe.

Raising her arms high, she bent her hands behind her neck, undid the hidden hook-and-eye beneath her rose dress' broad white collar and then pushed the top white button through its hole. With her arms still akimbo against her shoulder blades, she unbuttoned the middle and lower buttons, relieving any built-in support the tunic styling, with its empire waist, gave to her mature bust. She bent forward at her waist and shimmied as she tugged the summer weight cotton over her head and off.

Straightening up she assessed her front features in her bureau mirror. Her breasts, full and large, filled the pockets of her unstructured cotton bra behind her white rayon slip. They did not sag so much as the rested on her rib cage and bulged. She raised them up an inch with her palms and thought, "I can get by another couple of years before I have to get a stiffer brassier." Patting her slightly bumpy tummy, she added silently, "or a corset."

Isabel stuck her thumbs under her slip's spaghetti straps and lifted the flimsy straight up and off. The stretch was very flattering to her figure. She smiled at herself as her head broke free of the bottom hem and she saw ten years melt off her mature frame. Turning a pirouette, she patted her ass cheeks behind her full-cut white rayon briefs. "No girdles needed yet, either," she muttered under her breath as she unsnapped her hose tops from her suspenders and kicked out of her high heels.

She frowned when she noticed a dark wet splotch on her panties' gusset. Stepping out of her underwear, she saw Ted's cum deposit was still turtling out of, and then back into, her pussy as she moved around. Isabel cupped her left hand between her legs, walked carefully to the bathroom and wiped herself with toilet paper.

When she returned, she rolled down her stockings and laid them neatly over their wooden tree to air out. She figured she could get one more day out of them before she had to wash them. Unhooking her bra, she shook her breasts loose and flipped it onto the tree beside the hosiery. Her nipples were still excited from Trotter's attention but at least they were not aching at the moment.

Isabel picked up her nightgown and held it in front of her nude body as she studied herself in the mirror once more. She had thought, when her mother helped her pick it out for her trousseau, that it was the most daring thing a girl could wear. Pure white and ankle length, it had little daisy-patterned holes cut out across the bodice. Its peasant neck was threaded with a brilliant blue satin ribbon which tied provocatively over the small button closure at the bust line's most critical spot.

The gown was sleeveless except for sheer lace trim shoulder ruffs. Isabel shivered as she remembered how vulnerable she felt when she tried it on. The shop girl had giggled but, her mother had held her shaking hand and said, "I remember how it was for me, Izzy. Believe me, nature will take care of everything. You look beautiful."

Now, as she pulled it over her head, nature seemed to be arguing. When the nightgown was pulled down, it bound her chest and clung to her hips. Isabel unbuttoned the neck and retied the blue bow more loosely. Instantly her breasts spread enough that she felt she could breathe normally. She wiggled her bottom and plucked at her hips until the muslin settled comfortably. Her packed reflection stared back at her as if to say, "What did you expect? You aren't nineteen, are you?"

Lifting the bed covers, Isabel slipped in behind Jock and spooned up against his green-striped white pajamas. He snuffled and automatically pushed his butt back into her crotch as she draped her arm over his torso and flattened her palm against his muscular chest. "Darn it!" She exclaimed to herself, "Forgot the Arpège!" Sighing, she slid her chin to a comfortable spot, decided she was not going to get up to put perfume on and contentedly closed her eyes. Jock snored a peaceful slow rumble.

An hour before dawn, Mary felt her bed shake. Opening her eyes, she saw a shadowed shape leaning over her with its left leg on the floor but its right knee on the mattress. Her quilt and sheet had been thrown off her and the intruder's shin pressed down on the springs and rolled against her right thigh. Now fully awake, she was near screaming when she recognized her father's familiar rosewater and talc scent. "PAPA!" She breathed with soft excitement.

Jock climbed onto the bed, pulled the blankets back in place and cuddled close to his daughter's warm body. He nuzzled his soft, freshly shaved face into her neck. "I'm sorry I'm so weak, Mare," he began with a trembling whisper. "I know what I said, but I can't get you out of my mind." He kissed her behind her ear. "It's wrong to want to love you the way I do... a father should be a father, not a lover." He kissed her throat and concluded his confession, "Forgive me and don't turn me away, PLEASE!"

Mary was distressed to hear her father beg her and surrender himself to her in this way, but she was also delighted. She had turned a corner in her life and she was not going back. Turning onto her right side, she embraced Jock and kissed him passionately. He tasted of peppermint from his freshly brushed teeth. He wormed his arms around her and squeezed her as close to him as possible.

"Mmmmm, Papa," Mary wheezed breathlessly as they broke their kiss. "I'm GLAD you can't get me out of your mind. I've been out of MY mind wanting YOU since YESTERDAY!" She clawed at his pajama top buttons until the shirt opened and she could get at his hard hairy chest. Scraping her fingernails across his pectorals, she tickled his marble nipples. He growled low in his throat as he felt his cock stiffen and his torso tighten.

Jock rolled right, with Mary in his arms. The bed creaked and the covers fell as they tumbled together and came to rest with Jock on his back, on the opposite side of the bed, and Mary straddling his hips, with her hands on his shoulder points. She laughed lightly and crowed with quiet jubilation, "Now, I've GOT you, Papa... it's time to 'Pay the Piper!'" She could not remember where she had recently heard that, and did not know why it came to her now, but it was true.

Mary reared back, lifted her arms and pulled her thin white cotton nightdress off over her head with a rush. It fluttered like a broken kite as it flew onto a dormer sill. Jock stared up into her full bouncing bosom and braced his hands on her naked hips, ready to slide up and grab her breasts. Mary slapped his wrists away. "Not YET, mister," she said. "Your bottoms are in the way!"

Sliding backward down her father's thighs, Mary drug his elasticized pajama pants' waist to his hips. He hitched his pelvis and she pulled them to his knees. Leaving them wrapped, binding his lower legs, she climbed back up and stared at her reward. Jock's cock was a cement tube thumping excitedly on his bare gut as he flexed and relaxed. "Hello, there," she sang out. "But where is that cute plump head I love so much to kiss?"

Reaching down with her right hand Mary pushed the foreskin collar away from Jock's shining helmet. "Ah-HAH!" Stroking lightly from rim to root, she used her left index finger tip and braised the spongy top with its glistening pre-cum. "THERE'S my fella," Mary cried happily, as she bent over and took her father's swollen knob into her mouth.

Jock remembered his Sunday blow-job and was determined to enjoy his daughter in more detail and for a longer time. If only his dick would cooperate. Mary also remembered lighting his short fuse. While she relished his spurting semen splashing down her throat, that was not where she wanted him this morning. When she heard his groans lengthen and his breath shorten, she pulled her mouth off his prick.

Scrunching up closer to Jock's abdomen, Mary lined her slot up with his angled iron and slid slowly backward. His velvet nose split her little peach and disappeared, inch by inch, as she rolled her hips and settled her ass onto Jock's thighs. Suddenly, Mary broke into a soft sing-song:

Oh, where, oh, where

Has my little dog gone?

Oh, where, oh, where can he be?

With his nose so soft

And his body long?

Oh, LOOK! He's IN-side of ME!

Jock could not help laughing at her parody of the child's rhyme. Mary came as his convulsions tickled her pussy walls. Leaning forward, she craned her neck and kissed her father, then began rocking her hips forward and back on his cock as she grabbed it with her cunt. Jock was ecstatic. He felt every ripple of her strong smooth muscles tugging his strong smooth erection. He raised his hands to her breasts and squeezed rhythmically with her contractions.