Shopping with Sara

I knew my sister Sara's car was in the shop, because it was me who had put it there. It was just a fender bender, and no one had been hurt (unless you count the sizable dent the repairs would make in my wallet), and so she was milking my well-deserved guilty feelings for all she was worth.

" Listen, Bobo." Actually, my name is Mike, but she always calls me Bobo when she's pissed at me. "You owe me big-time."

"I'm paying for the repairs," I said. "What else do you want from me?"

"A ride to the mall." She laughed good-naturedly. "Me and the girls are going power-shopping!" She smiled, already knowing that I'd do it, but wanting to clinch the deal. "Laura's coming!"

I tried not to sound too psyched when I said I'd do it, but I was certainly less than convincing--especially since my sister Sara already knew I had the hots for her girlfriend. Well, all of her friends were hot, and had had their turns in my fantasy life, but Laura was something more. I was really stuck on her; I had it bad!

Sara and I jumped into my car, and we headed over to Bonnie's house, which was where the other girls were hanging out. I waited while Sara bounced up to the door and hit the bell. She's my sister, but I couldn't help noticing how her short skirt accentuated her long, smooth legs and how nicely her frilly white blouse presented her firm eighteen year old boobs. She's my sister, but I couldn't help speculating as to whether she was as braless as she looked.

Bonnie's front door popped open with a flourish, and a cluster of significantly underclad girlfriends burst out into the sunlit summer heat like so many clowns from a clown car. I grinned as I began supplying each of the girls with their honorary clown names. Bonnie, (who was wearing a deep blue halter, matching short shorts, and crisp white sneakers) I named Horny The Clown. Denise (whose long black hair shone brilliantly, framing her alabaster cheeks and the sexiest mouth I've ever seen) was promptly renamed BJ The Clown. Claire (the plainest of the hotties) became Shorty The Clown. Claire's sister (whose name I didn't know, and who had a delightful and decidedly-alluring evil twinkle in her eyes) was promptly christened Dinky the Devil-Clown. When Laura stepped from the pack of swirling beauties, supertight bluejeans and a denim bra-top announcing the perfection of her curves, all thought of clowns and clown cars left my brain--which in turn slid from my skull, firmly lodging in my lap. I barely registered the presence of Darla, Monica, and two other girls I didn't know.

I have no idea how the eleven of us managed to cram ourselves into my car (which comfortably held four and could carry six in a typical pinch) but I do know that five of us fit, two-deep, in front. Sara shoved Laura in first then slid in herself followed by Darla; Claire's sister playfully dove in headfirst, accidentally (I think) overshooting and landing face-first in my already desire-tightened man-zone. I looked down at the short red haired stranger with her mouth on my erection and moaned.

She scrambled back, blushing and alternately giggling and apologizing, somehow managing to make eye contact in a brave attempt to determine whether I was pissed that she so clearly knew that I had had a throbbing boner even before her half-open squealing mouth slammed onto my pulsing cockhead. "Uh, hi," she said. "My name's Sally."

Everybody who'd noticed our ignominious meeting cracked up, breaking the tension. Both doors slammed shut, and we took off. Every time we turned right, Laura's hand pressed onto my leg--she had to keep from sliding into my steering arm. I loved it, but it was embarrassing too, because both of us could tell that the other one knew Laura knew that I was ragingly close to coming.

Sara knew it too. All the girls in the front seat knew, and perhaps the back seat girls knew as well. If you think about it, since everyone knew that everyone knew what Sally's young and impressionable face had done, there were only two ways my sister Sara could react. She could freak (either in anger or embarrassment) or she could laugh it off and make me squirm for fun. I can't tell you how glad I am that she chose the second alternative!

By the time we got to the mall, most of the girls in the front seat had winked or flirted or otherwise teased me, pretty obviously enjoying the process fully; if there had been anyone in the car at the beginning of the trip who hadn't known I was completely aroused, she did by the time we got there. And they all took delight in keeping me that way.

I found myself centrally located in the midst of a tightly-bunched cluster of hot cuties, where I was bumped, pinched, brushed against, and otherwise anonymously handled by one or the other of the girls. To my relief, my sister Sara had edged to the outside of the group, slightly ahead of me and the rest of the girls, silently giving them the go-ahead to grab me at will "without her ever knowing."

One girl would "trip" and grasp my ass to keep from crashing into me; another would touch the side of my face from behind drawing my gaze so another girl could cup my balls. Their flirtatious ministrations were far enough apart that each was a welcome titillation, and close enough together to keep me close to the edge. After a few minutes of that, I would have done anything, anything at all for those playful teases!

The mall, though far from truly crowded, was full enough that it seemed natural that a small mob of boisterous shopping girls would be chattering and moving as a single unit down the wide walkway towards the stores of their choice.

We shoved our way into a bookstore, and one of my sister's naughty girlfriends slid my hand into another girl's crotch, which I promptly and decisively buffed to a shine until she pulled away gasping and giggling. In a big-name music store, someone covered my eyes "Guess Who?" style, while two or three of the girls tried to undo my jeans and pull them down. With odds like they were (ten of them against me) I struggled hard to escape even though I was loving every minute of their delicious attentions, and eventually won my freedom--for a moment.

By the time we got to the Women's Wear, I think everybody had crossed that invisible line between turned-on and definitely-gonna-come-today; God knows I'd passed that line long since. So it didn't take much to convince me to allow them to blindfold me with a scarf and secret me into the changing rooms, where one or two of them would stand guard while a few others stripped, tried on their selections, stripped again, and redressed mere inches away from my sister's too-lightly blindfolded brother.

In twos and threes, the girls would slip out of their clothes knowing that maybe I could see through the blindfold (which I could, sort of). I'd get a misty eyeful of nipples, asses, sideboob, and full-on nudity from one group, until another group would charge the dressing room, kick the others out, and take over for their own turns at "maybe-flashing" me.

It didn't take all that long for the shopgirls to figure out that something was up, so my sister brought them in, pulled off my blindfold, told me to strip, and announced that she was going to get a soda. "I'll be back in a while," she said, and was gone.

I stood there for a long, long second while two or three shopgirls stood, unsure of what to do about the guy in the dressing room being flashed by girls who had obviously dragged him in there; they knew they should pitch us all out, yet they also were intrigued by the novelty and sheer audacity of this cluster of pervy customers. And they were somewhat wide-eyed, watching and wondering if I'd strip in front of so many females.

I pulled my shirt off and tossed it over my shoulder, unconcerned for the moment as to wherever it landed. That was enough: the shopgirls suddenly became co-conspirators, and as I stripped away the rest of my clothes (which disappeared almost as soon as they were out of my hands) the girls fell to and secured the center section of the store which is where the dressing rooms were. Darla, Laura, Sally, Bonnie, and one of the shopgirls were down to only-panties in a matter of seconds, and several of the others went topless.

They passed me around like a bong at a party. One after another after another, they felt me up, kissed me, cupped me in their hands, took me in their mouths, and pressed all manner of their beautiful body parts into my hands, my lap, my every personal space. It became impossible to tell if I was being taken by three girls or twenty; the shopgirls, my sister's friends, other observant customers, even (they told me later) a female mall cop who had stumbled onto the scene and became entangled--they all blurred one into another and back.

It was like a kaleidoscope of flesh. I lost complete track not only of time, but of how many times I came, how many women came around me. At some point, someone pressed a buzzing vibe into my hand and shoved my toward Laura. Our eyes locked, and she slipped out of her panties as I moved to bring her off. Sally replaced her as soon as she came, then a few women I'd never seen before, and on and on, one after another until the batteries died.

Finally, the walls of flesh fell away, and feeling came back into my legs. I became aware of the scene around me: one of the shopgirls was nestled facedown in Bonnie's lap while Denise (her left hand caressing herself through her panties) stroked Bonnie's hair. Bonnie's head lolled backwards and she came, hard.

There were abandoned clothes everywhere, but as far as I could tell, it was just skirts, halters, and feminine under things. And shoes; lots of shoes. My clothes were nowhere.

Sally appeared at my shoulder. She leaned in and said, "I missed my chance to blow you. Raincheck?" I nodded. "Let's get you something to wear."

She found my shirt, but the rest of it was gone. I put it on, but it didn't cover much below my hips. Somehow, that made me feel more naked than I'd been without it, which was actually kind of nice. I spent about fifteen minutes walking around the pairs and clusters of unclad sweetmeats--Monica, Darla, and the rest--with Sally holding my hand. We found Laura naked, changing the batteries in a fist-sized vibe (not the one I'd had. That one was blue; this one was banana-yellow). She looked up as she popped the battery cover closed and switched it on. She grinned at me wordlessly as she started fucking herself again.

I was totally spent, but I knew I'd remember that peahen smile of hers for a long time.

My sister Sara meandered in, smiling, looking around at the panoply of satiated women draped like Dali clocks throughout the central island and changing rooms in the midst of the Women's Wear. She tossed me a pair of shorts. "I got ya these," she said. "Found your wallet, too. And your keys." She turned to the room at large, most of whom we'd come in with. "You ladies want a ride back?"

Bonnie, her face buried in her shopgirl's sex, waved her away. The others began collecting themselves, getting dressed--mostly not in the clothes they'd arrived in. The mall cop had her uniform's slacks on, and Laura's bra-top, and her police hat; she had her cuffs back, and her club, but she couldn't find her shoes anywhere. She finally settled on someone else's crisp white sneakers.

The nude tits and other female delicacies, now mostly stowed away, swayed with their dazed-looking owners out into the public areas of the mall. We made our way back to my car. One of the shopgirls (she told me later her name was Kristy) was with us now, and two sisters who'd wandered in for lingerie and wandered out with less than they'd arrived in, joined us in the car for the trip back to Sara's and my place for food and showers.

It was a tight fit, and there was silence and rustling clothing the whole way home. This time, Laura was in the back seat between the sisters, and Sally was pressed against me. "Think your sister would let us fuck her?" she whispered. "I doubt it, but you can ask. I am her brother, you know."

"She spends enough time checking out your ass!"

"Really?!" I couldn't stop smiling.

"Nice smile," she teased. "Maybe I'd better just keep you to myself!" She put her hand on my cock, which I was amazed to feel stirring. "Hmmmmm. Or not!" She winked, and I stepped on the gas.