They didn't answer me as they continued dragging me through the store. When we got to the row of dressing rooms in the back, Sandy found a vacant one. She opened the door and Candy pushed me into it. The girls piled in behind. It was a typical changing room, fine for one person, tight for two, but the three of us made a real crowd.
“Now, about that bet,” Sandy said, her face so close to me now that I could smell not just her perfume, but also something that resembled peaches. Her shampoo, I wondered? If so, it gave her long brunette tresses a nice shine. “I bet the other girls that I could convince you to let me give you a hand job right here in the store…”
“…and I'm here as her witness,” Candy purred. Her favorite shampoo had a hint of strawberry. “So …”
“… that's why we pulled you in here.” Sandy finished, her hands already attempting to unzip my fly.
“Hey,” I protested, “stop. I think the other girls win. I'm not going to let some underage girl perform a sex act on me in a public place.”
Sandy was very determined. It was going to take more than a weak protest to deter her. Before I even finished my argument, she had my cock out and was on her knees in front of me. I'm ashamed to say that it was already at half-staff, just from the idea of being in such a tight space with two pretty teenage girls. I did mention that they were cheerleaders, right?
The next few minutes were surreal. I could hear the conversations and giggling going on in the adjoining changing rooms, which made it difficult to focus on the young girl kneeling in front of me, determinedly stroking my dick with her warm hands. Her fingernails had little holiday decorations on them. It's strange what kinds of details your mind can pick up in a moment of panic. At one point she leaned forward, and for a second I thought she was going to replace her fingers with her lips, but all she did was dribble a little saliva off the tip of her tongue onto the head of my stiff cock to act as a lubricant. Apparently oral sex wasn't part of the bet.
By now I was way beyond the point of resisting, but I can't say I was just relaxing and enjoying the ride either. Sandy was proving something that I had always assumed was true in my addled, sex-crazed teenage years – cheerleaders really know how to give good hand jobs. I hadn't been jealous of high school jocks much before, but now I regretted missing out on some of the bus rides home from road games.
Despite Sandy's skillful and energetic efforts, it didn't feel like my orgasm was building very quickly. I knew we should get out of that tiny room as soon as we could, but as any guy can tell you, you can't make yourself cum just because it's convenient, and pressure to perform only makes it worse. Candy, who had been carefully observing her fellow elf's efforts, decided to take matters into her own hands, literally. “Move over,” she told her elfmate, “let me try.”
Sandy, being a nice girl, shared with her friend. She slid a little to the side, allowing Candy to take her place on her knees in front of me. While Candy began her version of the high school hand jive, Sandy busied herself by pulling my pants halfway down my thighs. I wondered why she had felt the need to do that. That question was answered a few seconds later when Elf #1 began massaging my balls. It appeared that my scrotum wasn't the first one she had manipulated; her touch was gentle but stimulating.
Apparently Candy had learned her manual skills from a different set of boys than her partner. Sandy's approach had been quick, short strokes, concentrated mostly around the head of my penis, a sensible approach, since that is the most sensitive part. Candy was more into an appreciation of the whole instrument, not just the part that drips and spurts. She ran her hands, alternating between left and right, from the base to the tip, adding a teasing twist at the end of each trip. I had never had a hand job quite like that, and although at first I missed Sandy's rapid-fire action, I soon learned to equally enjoy the way Candy's hands seemed to be milking my very essence. Combined with Sandy's intriguing handling of my own person Christmas plums, Candy's long, steady approach soon had me nearing the climax that had seemed so elusive a few minutes earlier.
Sandy was the first one to sense the impending explosion. “His balls are getting tight,” she warned her cohort. “Be careful, don't mess up your skirt. We've still got another shift to work.”
Candy didn't change her style, but did increase the speed of her bottom-to-top strokes. At the same time, she heeded her friends warning, and moved a little to the right, while Sandy continued her manipulations from the left.
Just as I was about to reach a peak of enjoyment, someone knocked on the door and yelled, “Hurry it up in there, girls. There's a line out here.” That interruption was enough to suppress my imminent crisis, and I began to fear that I was going to have to finish my shopping with blue balls. That was when Sandy got creative. Before I even realized what she was doing, I felt one slender finger sliding up inside my butt. With knowledge and skill I would never have thought a high school girl could possess, even a cheerleader, her inquisitive digit unerringly found my prostrate and began rubbing.
That was all it took. My interest revived almost instantly, and a few seconds later I felt a wonderful rush of seminal fluid moving up my fleshy delivery pipe. The girls watched, somewhat in amazement I like to think, as my semen plastered the mirror on the back of the door. I have to say that even I was impressed by the size of the load that was slowly sliding down the glass, even though I must give some credit to my new friends. All those years of cheerleader fantasies probably helped too.
Candy grabbed one of the blouses we had brought in with us and used it to clean up the portion of ejaculate still dripping from my now drooping tool. I made a mental note not to buy that one, as the girls cooperated to pull my pants up and raise the zipper. I was wondering how we were going to get out of there with a store full of shoppers and clerks watching, but Sandy and Candy didn't seem to be worried. Subtlety was not part of their behavior.
Sandy opened the door, and the three of us exited, like clowns piling out of a tiny car, leaving several young ladies waiting for the room with their jaws on the floor. We left all the clothes the girls had selected in the dressing room, and made a quick exit out of the store. As we were leaving, I remembered that none of us had bothered to clean up the mirror. The thought of what the next person to use that room would think brought a smile to my face as we hustled through the store and out the front door. Once we were back in the mall, we stopped and stood there in a little triangle while dozens of shoppers streamed past us. Nobody said anything, all of us seeming to be in a state of shock. It was Sandy who broke the silence. “I'm starving,” she declared. “How about you guys?”
“Yeah, me too,” Candy agreed. “Half a pretzel isn't exactly lunch.”
“Come on girls,” I said, “let's hit the food court. I'm buying.” I felt like I at least owed them lunch.
The food court was packed. We split up, and after searching for a few minutes Sandy signaled that she had located a table. She agreed to guard it with her life while Candy and I got in line at the Subway booth. When we returned, the other girls from the clothing store, the losers of the bet, were just leaving. One of them turned and gave me a full head-to-toe scan, then winked at me. Whatever had happened to me during my college years had seemed to evoke within me the power to cast a spell over teenyboppers. I sighed, wishing that had been true a few years earlier when I really needed it.
“Got your money,” Sandy said, thrusting a wad of ones and fives into Candy's hands.
“You deserve half,” Candy said, handing some of the bills back to her friend.
For the next several minutes I sat there silently, listening to the naughty elves talking about all the stupid, trivial things that girls that age talk about. As they chatted on and on, I began to realize that I really didn't belong with them. I finished my sandwich and was about to leave when the conversation turned back to me, even though it took me a few seconds to catch on.
“He's got a nice dick,” Sandy stated, like a judge evaluating a show dog.
“Yeah,” Candy added, “not the biggest I've ever seen, but it's nice and smooth.”
“He sure did cum a lot,” Candy giggled.
“I think the prostate massage helped,” Sandy, the sex expert, said.
“Hey,” I interrupted. “I'm sitting right here. And there are dozens of people around us.”
“Don't sweat it,” Sandy replied. “It's so noisy here we can barely here ourselves, much less anybody else.”
“I wonder what it tastes like,” Candy asked, still talking about me like I was invisible.
“You mean his dick, or his man cream?” Sandy asked.
“”Both,” Candy replied. Both girls laughed, and I felt like crawling under the table. I took a quick look around and realized the girls had been right. The noise level in that big, open room made eavesdropping almost impossible.
I tried again to make a getaway. “Hey, look girls, this has been fun and all, but I've gotta get… “
“Sit down,” Sandy ordered. The tone of her voice indicated that she was used to guys obeying her commands. For a second I pictured an older version of her in leather, holding a whip, with a stiletto heel poking into some poor guys back. “We're not done with you.”
“What are we gonna do?” Candy asked her friend. It was apparent who the alpha female in their pack was.
“Something I've wanted to do for a long time,” Sandy replied cryptically. “Come on.” Once again she took my hand, and once again I allowed her to drag me along with her, as if she had cast some kind of black-magic cheerleader spell over me.
Our destination was a large department store at one end of the mall. By now Sandy had apparently decided that I wasn't a flight risk and wasn't holding my hand any more. I followed the girls past the Cosmetics counters, with those annoying aroma vampires trying to spray us with samples, and back to Womens' Clothing. Sandy took a quick look around, sizing up the ebb and flow of the crowd, then moved over to a circular rack in a corner, full of discounted dresses.
“Cover us,” she instructed her blonde friend.
While Candy and I kept an eye on the other shoppers, Sandy pushed her way between two of the dresses and stepped into the middle of the rack. She knelt down and after Candy rearranged the clothes that Sandy had moved on her way in, the dark-haired elf was totally hidden. I thought for a moment she was going to play some stupid prank, like jumping up and yelling at the next customer who walked by, but she had something even more devious in mind.
“Get closer,” she whispered.
I pressed myself up against the dresses. Sandy reached out and once again unzipped my jeans with great dexterity. Candy positioned herself between myself and the rest of the store, trying to hide what was going on. Sandy began with another hand job. My recuperative powers were typical of a young man in the hands of a cute, sexy cheerleader, and my erection quickly returned.
I thought maybe that was all she wanted, to jack a guy off in an even more public place than a dressing room, but a few seconds later I felt her lips wrapping around the head of my cock. She teased the slit with her tongue, and without further ado started pulling my shaft into her mouth like a snake devouring a rat. I grabbed the circular bar that the clothes were hanging on, partly from the shock of what was happening, but also so I could thrust my hips further toward the eager young girl hidden in front of me. If she had told me what she had in mind before she disappeared into the clothes I probably would have bolted, but now I wanted to help.
The combination of the erotic thrill of having Sandy's talented mouth working on my manhood, and the foolish, daring reality of where it was happening seemed to cause me to develop a kind of tunnel vision. When Sandy had first pulled my dick out I had been very worried about being discovered, and the awful things that could ensue if we were caught. My eyes had been nervously scanning left and right, like a third-grader at a pedophile convention, but as my second orgasm of the day began building, I forgot all those concerns. Now all I could focus on was the top of Sandy's head as it bobbed back and forth between the dresses. The girl had talented lips, and knew how to give head without her teeth getting in the way.
As had happened before, just as I was about to come to the climax that Sandy had been working so hard to produce, real life intervened. Candy whispered, “Somebody's looking.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2pwd5i/christmas_shopping_can_be_fun_part_2_mff
[Part 1](http://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2pw4h8/christmas_shopping_can_be_fun_part_1_mff/) [Part 3](http://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2pwlom/christmas_shopping_can_be_fun_part_3_mff/) Part 4 forthcoming?