Sexy Fun Times/Laid/Mall/Tweens

From All The Fallen Stories
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The girls could be anywhere between ten and thirteen. The taller and probably older one has dark skin and looks like she may be mixed race. Her dark hair is cut short, almost like a boy and she is slim and very pretty. Her friend is blonde, with blue eyes and a hint of freckles. Still attractive, but maybe on the chubby side of pretty. They are both wearing a uniform that shows they attend St Winifred's, a local private school. White shirt, open at the neck, short tartan skirt, long white socks and Mary Janes.

They are laughing and shoving each other as they walk towards the gold mall. You decide to follow and see what they are up to. It's a school day so surely, they shouldn't be here. Your cock stirs as you look at the two rear ends. Blondie's skirt is a bit tight and her bum cheeks move delightfully as she walks. Darkie's skirt is looser but you have no trouble imagining her tight little bum underneath and wonder how it would feel in your hands.

As they walk, it's clear that they are aware of you and they don't see the least bit concerned. In fact, judging by the extra wiggle they put into their walk, they are quite happy about your obvious interest. They walk straight past the amusement arcade and into the part that is more like an old-fashioned funfair. Most of the rides are aimed at small children and there are some toddlers squealing with delight, driving cars around a roundabout. The biggest though, is a full-sized Dodgem car ride. This is no temporary setup designed to fold onto the back of a trailer, but a permanent arena with some fairly classy-looking cars.

Both girls look back at you as they climb into a car each, and naturally, you hop into one of your own. Being a school day, it’s pretty quiet and apart from the two girls, there are only two other cars in use; both driven by teenage boys. As soon as they spot the girls, they home in on them, determined to bump them around. Neither boy is especially skilled, and it is easy for you to embarrass them, sending one careening into the ranks of unused cars which earns him a reprimand from the manager. When the power goes off, you walk over and ask the girls if they fancy an ice cream. They look at each other and burst into giggles before accepting your offer and follow you to the café. The only other customers are a woman with two toddlers who are intent on smearing ice cream all over their faces, something that you find quite erotic.

When you sit down and distribute the cones you introduce yourself and ask for their names. The older girl is Sophie and her friend is Susan.

“How come you’re not at school,” you ask. It seems that the electricity failed and they were sent home.

“They said that if there’s no one at home to look after us, we had to stay,” Susan says and she giggles.

“I said that my Mum is at home. Actually, she is out all day,” Sophie says.

“Will you look after us,” Susan asks, with a faux innocent look. Your cock, which had dozed off, wakes up with a jerk.

“I’m not sure. I might have something important to do,” you say.

“Aww! We need a big strong man to protect us. There are a lot of perverts about who might take advantage of two young girls like us,” Susan says with a grin and then licks suggestively around her ice cream cone. “You can come to my house for lunch if you like. I’m sure we can find something tasty for you to eat”.

You had expected to be chatting these two cock-teasers up, but it seems that the boot’s on the other foot. “What the hell?” “How could I turn an offer like that down,” you say.

They lead you out of the mall and along a couple of streets, before coming to a stop in front of an imposing double-front set back behind a short drive. Susan types a code on the pad and the gates open. She leads us down the side to the tradesman’s entrance, where she uses an old-fashioned key to let us into a mud room. “Shoes off,” she says and we do as we are told. There is a bench to sit on and a rack for the shoes.

The kitchen is all gleaming stainless steel and more like something you’d find in a hotel than a private house. We walk down a passage on an ankle-deep carpet and into a modest sitting room. “This is the family room,” she says as she flops down on a three-seater couch. There is a sofa table in the middle and a huge TV screen on one wall. There is another couch, a couple of easy chairs and a lot of books and other stuff on a wall cabinet. You are more interested in the amount of leg on display than the furniture.