Teasing at the Mall, Used All Night Long

Dressed like a hot girl and teasing men at the mall, I never expected an unattractive older guy to take me home after I whispered my secret.

I wandered through the crowded mall that Saturday afternoon, the cool air from the vents brushing against my exposed skin in the most delicious way. My shoulder-length hair swayed with each step, framing my delicate features—those large, doe-like brown eyes that always seemed to draw stares, my narrow nose leading down to full, inviting lips glossed just enough to catch the light. Subtle makeup enhanced everything without being obvious: a touch of blush on my soft cheeks, mascara that made my lashes look naturally long and fluttery. I felt pretty, feminine, the kind of girl guys couldn’t help but notice.

Over my slim torso I wore a fitted leather jacket zipped halfway, letting a cropped white t-shirt peek out and hug the gentle swell of my chest—two soft, rounded mounds that jiggled ever so slightly with my movements, their perky shape unmistakable under the thin fabric. Below, my short denim shorts rode high on my hips, the frayed hems barely covering the lower curve of my plump, rounded backside, leaving the smooth, pale undersides of my cheeks peeking out with every sway. A thin g-string thong disappeared between them, the string teasing my most private spot as I walked. High-top sneakers completed the look, making my shapely legs look even longer despite my 5’7” height. At 65 kilos, my body had that extra softness in all the right places—curvy hips that flared out invitingly, thick thighs that rubbed together with a plush friction, and that heavy, bouncy rear that drew eyes like magnets. I loved it. People mistook me for a girl all the time, even in boy clothes, and the secret thrill of it made my heart race.

I wasn’t subtle about teasing. I’d pause at shop windows, bending forward just enough to let the shorts ride up higher, exposing more of that creamy, jiggly flesh. Guys walking by would slow down, their gazes lingering on the way my hips rolled, the subtle bounce of my chest under the jacket. I’d catch their eyes, offer a shy smile with my pouty lips, then turn away with a little extra wiggle. It was harmless fun—until it wasn’t.

He spotted me near the food court. Early fifties, balding on top with graying hair slicked back on the sides, a soft potbelly straining against his faded polo shirt. His face was nothing special—ruddy cheeks, a thick mustache, small eyes that lit up when they locked on me. Unattractive by most standards, but there was something hungry in the way he approached, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, voice gruff but trying for smooth. “You look like you could use some company. Mind if I buy you a coffee?”

I played coy at first, letting him talk. We sat at a little table outside the pretzel stand. He introduced himself as Bob, told me he was just killing time while his wife and kids were out of town visiting relatives. “Whole house to myself for the weekend,” he added with a wink. “Quiet, you know?” I smiled, sipped the iced latte he bought me, and let him compliment me for the next half hour. He went on about how pretty my eyes were, how my legs looked endless in those shorts, how my “cute little figure” made him feel young again. His hand brushed my knee once, then lingered on my thigh, fingers tracing the soft skin there. I didn’t pull away. The attention felt good—hot, even.

After twenty-five minutes of him leaning in closer, laughing at my soft giggles, I decided it was time. I leaned across the table, my leather jacket brushing his arm, and whispered right against his ear, my breath warm: “You know… I’m actually a boy.”

He froze. His small eyes widened, mustache twitching as his mouth opened and closed. “What? No way. You’re shitting me.” His gaze dropped to my chest, then lower, like he was trying to process it. Shock rippled across his face—real, genuine surprise—but it didn’t last long. Something else took over. His cheeks flushed deeper, and when he looked back up, there was heat in his eyes, the kind that didn’t care about labels. “Damn… still the hottest thing I’ve seen all day. Boy or not, you got me hooked, kid.”

I bit my lower lip, feeling a rush of excitement at his reaction. No anger, no disgust—just raw want. “You sure?” I asked softly.

“Positive.” His hand squeezed my thigh harder under the table. “Tell you what. Let me spoil you a little. There’s a store right over there—cute dresses, heels, all that girly stuff. Pick whatever you want. My treat. Then… maybe we go back to my place? Empty house, like I said. No one to interrupt.”

My pulse quickened. I nodded, letting him lead me to the boutique. Inside, under the bright lights, he watched me browse. I picked a slinky black mini dress—short enough that it would barely cover the tops of my thighs, with thin straps and a low neckline that would show off the soft swells of my chest. Then a pair of strappy black high heels, four inches tall, the kind that would make my legs look even shapelier and force my ass to arch just right. Bob paid without blinking, his eyes never leaving my body as I carried the bag.

We walked out to the parking lot, his hand now resting possessively on my lower back, fingers occasionally dipping lower to graze the exposed curve of my cheek. His car was an older sedan, nothing fancy. I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my bare thighs. The shorts rode up even more as I settled in, the g-string pressing tight between my plump cheeks. Bob started the engine, glancing over with that hungry look still burning.

“God, you’re something else,” he muttered as he pulled out of the lot. “Those shorts… that ass of yours. Can’t stop staring.”

The drive to his place would take about twenty minutes. I felt bold, the thrill of the reveal still buzzing through me. I reached over, my delicate fingers with their subtle manicure tracing the growing bulge in his khakis. “Let me thank you properly,” I purred, voice soft and breathy.

He didn’t stop me. His breath hitched as I unzipped him right there on the highway, traffic humming around us. His cock sprang free—thick, veined, maybe six and a half inches, the head already shiny with a bead of precum. Below it hung a heavy pair of balls, wrinkled and full, nestled in graying hair. It wasn’t the prettiest cock, but it was hard for me, and that was all that mattered.

I leaned across the console, my leather jacket creaking, my plump rear shifting in the seat so the shorts pulled even tighter. My soft, rounded backside pressed against the door, the exposed lower cheeks squishing against the leather. I used my hands—both of them, because his girth filled one palm nicely. I wrapped my fingers around the base, squeezing gently, feeling the heat pulse against my smooth skin. My other hand cupped his balls, rolling them, kneading the heavy sack with careful pressure, letting my nails graze the sensitive skin underneath. Bob groaned, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to grope my thigh, fingers digging into the plush flesh.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he rasped. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

I lowered my head, my shoulder-length hair falling like a curtain. My full lips parted, and I started with his balls—pressing soft, wet kisses to the wrinkled skin, then licking broad, slow strokes along the seam. The taste was musky, salty, masculine. I sucked one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, feeling it tighten and shift against my pouty lips. Then the other, humming softly so the vibrations traveled through him. My hands never stopped: one stroking his shaft in long, twisting pulls, thumb rubbing circles over the slick head, spreading his precum until it coated everything shiny and slippery.

Bob’s hips twitched, the car swerving just a little before he steadied it. “Shit… you’re really doing this while I’m driving. You’re a naughty little thing.”

I pulled off his balls with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his sack. “You like it?” I asked, voice muffled as I licked up the underside of his cock, tracing every vein with the flat of my tongue. My pretty face was inches from his lap now, my breath hot against the throbbing length.

“Love it,” he growled. His free hand came down, fingers threading into my hair—not forcing yet, just guiding. “Take it deeper.”

I opened wider, wrapping my plush lips around the head. The girth stretched my mouth beautifully, filling it with his heat and taste. I bobbed slowly at first, taking him inch by inch, my tongue swirling around the crown, sucking gently to draw out more precum. Saliva built up quickly, dripping down his shaft onto my stroking hand. Then I pushed deeper—past the halfway point, feeling the head nudge the back of my throat. I gagged softly, the sound wet and throaty, my eyes watering just a little as my delicate throat muscles clenched around him. But I didn’t pull back. I relaxed, swallowing, taking him further until my nose brushed the base and my lips kissed his skin. My throat bulged visibly around the intrusion; I could feel it myself, the stretch, the fullness.

Bob moaned louder, his hand tightening in my hair. “Goddamn, you’re swallowing it all. That pretty mouth… fuck.” He groped lower, his palm sliding under my shorts to squeeze one bare ass cheek, fingers kneading the soft, jiggly flesh, spreading it open so the g-string pulled taut against my tight hole. The sensation made me whimper around his cock, the vibration traveling straight down his length.

I held him deep for long seconds, throat convulsing, gagging wetly each time I pulled back only to slide down again. Spit ran freely now, soaking his balls, dripping onto the seat. My hands worked what I couldn’t fit—twisting, pumping, cupping and rolling his sack, feeling it draw up tighter. Every gag sent shivers through me; my own cock—my smooth, circumcised five-and-a-half inches—had stiffened inside my g-string, pressing against the fabric, but I ignored it for now, focused entirely on pleasing him. The car filled with obscene sounds: wet slurps, my muffled gags, his grunts, the hum of the engine.

He spanked my exposed cheek lightly at first, then harder, the smack echoing as my plump rear jiggled under his palm. “Such a soft ass… perfect for this. Keep sucking, baby. We’re almost there.”

I doubled down, hollowing my cheeks, sucking with long, rhythmic pulls while my throat worked the head. My tongue never stopped flicking the underside. His cock throbbed harder, veins pulsing against my lips. Precum flowed steadily, salty and thick on my tongue. I swallowed every drop, humming, moaning, worshipping every inch with my mouth, hands, and throat—licking, sucking, gagging, stroking.

By the time the car slowed and turned into a quiet suburban driveway, my lips were swollen and glossy with spit, my chin slick, strands of hair sticking to my flushed cheeks. Bob parked in the garage, killing the engine with a shaky hand. His cock still twitched in my mouth, shiny and red, balls glistening.

“We’re here,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Whole house empty. Ready for more?”

I lifted my head slowly, licking my lips clean, my soft brown eyes meeting his. My heart pounded, body buzzing. “Yes,” I whispered. “Take me inside.”

He took my hand firmly in his calloused one and led me through the side door into the quiet suburban house, the garage light clicking off behind us. The air inside smelled like faint laundry detergent and something warmer, more lived-in—family photos lined the hallway walls, kids’ school pictures smiling back at us, but the place felt empty, echoing with our footsteps. Bob’s wife and children were miles away for the weekend, and the silence wrapped around us like a promise. He kicked the door shut with his heel, then spun me around and pulled me close.

His mouth crashed into mine without hesitation, rough mustache scratching my smooth upper lip as our tongues met in a hungry tangle. I melted into it, my soft, plush lips parting wider to let him explore, tasting the coffee from earlier mixed with his own salty breath. His hands roamed everywhere at once—big palms sliding under my leather jacket to squeeze the gentle, rounded swells of my chest, thumbs circling the sensitive peaks until they hardened into tight little points under the thin t-shirt. I moaned into his kiss, the sound vibrating between us, as he groped and kneaded those feminine curves like they were made for his touch alone.

“God, you feel so soft everywhere,” he growled against my mouth, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank the jacket down my arms and toss it aside. The t-shirt followed, peeled up over my head, leaving my smooth, tan-white skin bare to the cool air. My chest rose and fell with quick breaths, the delicate mounds jiggling slightly as he stared, then dove back in to kiss me deeper while his fingers pinched and rolled the stiff tips. I arched into him, my curvy hips pressing forward, feeling the hard bulge in his khakis grind against my lower belly.

He walked me backward toward the living room without breaking the kiss, hands now dropping to my waistband. The denim shorts slid down my shapely thighs with a rustle, pooling at my sneakers. My thin g-string came next—his thick fingers hooked the sides and tugged it slowly down, exposing everything. My smooth, circumcised length sprang free, five-and-a-half inches of pretty, flushed hardness bobbing against my full, heavy ballsack. Bob pulled back from the kiss just enough to glance down, his small eyes widening again even though he already knew. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, half amusement, half raw hunger.

“Fuck me… still can’t believe it. Such a girly little body—those thick thighs, that juicy ass—and then this cute cock and fat balls hanging there like they belong on a pretty girl. Makes it even hotter, you know? Like you’re my secret dirty fantasy.” He didn’t sound disgusted; his voice dripped with filthy appreciation as one hand reached down to give my modest length a slow, possessive stroke, thumb smearing the bead of precum at the tip. “Gonna use every inch of you tonight, sweetheart.”

I whimpered at the touch, my pouty lips parted, but before I could answer he was kissing me again, harder, more demanding. He kicked my shorts and g-string away, then knelt briefly to untie and remove my high-top sneakers, leaving me completely naked in his living room—smooth hairless skin glowing under the lamp light, my plush rear cheeks wobbling as I shifted weight from one shapely leg to the other. His hands never stopped moving: groping my hips, kneading the soft give of my belly, slapping lightly at the undersides of my heavy cheeks until they rippled.

He guided me to the couch, turning me around so I faced away from him. I bent forward at the waist, placing both palms flat on the cushioned seat for balance, my legs straight and spread shoulder-width apart. My thick, chunky backside thrust out invitingly toward him, the smooth cheeks parting naturally to reveal the tight pink pucker nestled between them. The position arched my spine, lifting my full balls and pretty cock to dangle and sway beneath me, brushing cool air with every small movement.

Bob dropped to his knees behind me, his hot breath washing over my exposed rear. He started slow, almost reverent—big hands gripping the plump globes and spreading them wide, thumbs digging into the soft flesh so my hole winked open for him. “Look at this perfect ass,” he muttered, voice thick. “So round and jiggly… made for this.” He leaned in and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses all over the creamy undersides, then higher, dragging his tongue in long, sloppy stripes along the crack. I gasped at the warm, slick sensation, my thighs trembling as he licked deeper, circling my tight entrance with the flat of his tongue before pushing inside. The wet muscle probed and swirled, stretching the ring with insistent pressure while his hands kneaded and slapped the cheeks rhythmically—each smack sending delicious ripples through my plush flesh and making my hanging cock twitch.

He spent what felt like forever there, worshipping every inch: sucking gently on the rim, then pulling back to spit thick strings of saliva directly onto my hole before diving back in with two thick fingers. They scissored and curled inside me, stretching the velvety walls, brushing that sensitive spot that made sparks shoot up my spine. More spanking followed—harder now, the sharp cracks echoing in the empty house as my cheeks turned pink and jiggled wildly under his palms. I moaned loudly, pushing back against his face and fingers, my own pretty length leaking steadily onto the couch cushion below. “Please… more,” I begged breathlessly between gasps.

Bob stood up eventually, his breathing ragged. I heard his khakis drop, then felt the blunt, thick head of his cock nudge against my spit-slick hole. He gripped my curvy hips and pushed in slowly at first, the wide crown popping past the tight ring with a wet sound that made us both groan. Inch by inch he sank deeper, the veined shaft stretching me open until his heavy balls pressed against mine. The fullness was overwhelming—hot, throbbing pressure rubbing every sensitive nerve inside me. He held still for a moment, letting me adjust, then started thrusting: long, steady strokes that pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, his hips slapping loudly against my soft rear.

“Fuck, you’re tight… gripping me like you were made for my cock,” he grunted, one hand reaching around to stroke my swaying length in time with his thrusts. The living room filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin, my whimpers, and his low growls. He fucked me like that for long minutes, bending over my back to kiss my shoulder while his free hand groped and pinched my chest swells.

Eventually he pulled out with a wet pop, his cock shiny with spit and my own slick. “Bedroom,” he rasped, taking my hand and leading me upstairs, both of us naked and flushed. The master bedroom was neat but lived-in—his wife’s side of the bed still made with floral pillows. He pushed me down onto my back in the center of the mattress, right on their shared sheets. I lay there with my legs spread wide, knees bent and pulled up toward my chest so my plump rear lifted off the bed. Bob climbed between my shapely thighs, lining himself up again and sliding back inside in one smooth thrust. The new angle let him go deeper, the head of his cock dragging directly over that sweet spot with every plunge.

He leaned down, chest to chest, and kissed me passionately while his hips rolled in powerful strokes. My delicate legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as he fucked me steadily, the bed creaking beneath us. His hands explored everywhere—kneading my soft chest, pinching nipples, stroking my cock between our bellies. Sweat slicked our skin; I could feel every vein of him pulsing inside me, his balls slapping rhythmically against my ass.

After what seemed like an eternity of deep, grinding thrusts, he rolled us so I was on top. I straddled his hips, my thick thighs spread wide on either side of him, knees planted on the mattress. Facing him, I reached back to guide his slick cock back to my entrance and sank down slowly, taking every inch until I sat fully seated on his lap. My hands braced on his hairy chest as I started moving—rising and falling in long, sensual glides, then faster bounces that made my heavy cheeks clap against his thighs. The position let me control the depth, grinding my prostate against his shaft on every downstroke while my own pretty cock bounced and leaked precum onto his belly. Bob’s hands gripped my curvy hips, guiding me, occasionally slapping my jiggling rear to urge me faster. “Ride it just like that… fuck, look at you bouncing on me with that girly body.”

I lost myself in the rhythm, my shoulder-length hair swaying, soft moans spilling from my pouty lips. The sensations built relentlessly—fullness, friction, that electric buzz deep inside.

Finally he flipped me again, positioning me so I rested on my elbows and knees, back arched deeply, my plump ass pushed high and my face pressed into the pillow. My legs were spread, balls and cock dangling freely beneath me as he knelt behind and drove back in with a single hard thrust. This angle was merciless; he gripped my hips tightly and pounded deep and fast, the head of his cock hammering my prostate with every stroke. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core, my untouched length swinging wildly, dripping. I could feel it building—waves of heat crashing through me until I cried out, cumming hard without a single touch to my cock. Thick ropes splattered the sheets beneath me as my hole clenched rhythmically around him.

Bob groaned at the squeeze, fucking me through it with short, brutal thrusts before pulling out suddenly. He stroked himself furiously, aiming at my upturned rear. Hot, thick spurts landed across my jiggling cheeks and lower back, painting the smooth skin in sticky white streaks that dripped down the cleft. He kept pumping until every drop was spent, then collapsed beside me, pulling my spent body against his chest.

We stayed like that for hours—kissing lazily, his hands still roaming my soft curves possessively while we caught our breath. He used me twice more that night, slower and sweeter the second time, then rougher again before dawn, always with that same passionate hunger. We talked in between, his gruff voice softening as he admitted how much he loved the contrast of my feminine body and the surprise between my legs. “Best surprise I’ve had in years,” he murmured, stroking my hair.

Morning light filtered through the curtains eventually. Bob drove me back to the mall in the same car, my new mini dress and heels in a bag on my lap, the faint ache in my body a delicious reminder. He kissed me one last time in the parking lot before I slipped out, still tasting like last night. “Call me next time you’re teasing at the mall, sweetheart,” he said with a wink. I smiled, feeling every bit as pretty and wanted as I walked away.