Preamble: Hi, and thank you for choosing my story.

Despite this being a very short story in comparison with most of my work, if you enjoy it, please be kind enough to give a score at the end. This helps me to gauge the popularity of my work.

If I may – I usually like to suggest, one star each for:

Composition & Use of Vocabulary, Readability, Plot, Drama or Humour, and of course Sexual Content (I mean — if not, why else are we all here?), but please feel free to use your own criteria if you prefer.

NOTE: As this work is in three parts, please read the episodes in sequence. Also, I would recommend reading them in quick succession (or at least rundown the previous part before starting this one:)

Finally, if you would like to know a little about my personal background, please read my Brief History.

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Tags: 18 Year Old, Fellatio, Schoolgirl.

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Word Count: 2,110

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Title: Charity Cake Sale: Part 1

Short Description: Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly.

NB: One reader may recognise this. For the rest of you – just enjoy :).

Background.

You are a middle aged man with a typical, healthy interest in attractive young ladies. You have a particular penchant for smaller more petite women and girls, and you often like to walk around the town appreciating the multitude of talent on display. You wouldn’t consider yourself unusual at all – just like most men in fact, but you often discover yourself attracted to younger girls, probably because of their small stature, and you can not seem to withstand looking at shapely schoolgirls – the long flowing hair, the youthful faces, the lithe young bodies, the slender waists and the pert little bottoms, the sturdy thighs, and oh – the sweet secrets that lie between.

You just love to see the schoolgirls in their clever, attractive uniforms, and the way they almost but not quite obscure the delights that are clearly hidden beneath.

You love the summer, when the skimpy clothes come out – the revealing dresses, short skirts that adorn unbelievably slim waists atop creamy pink or dark tanned thighs, and the tight, short crop tops that show off wide expanses of bare midriff below firm, ripe young breasts. You even sometimes discover yourself appreciating the sight of younger girls – pretty young things with long shining hair and tiny little breasts that push their tops or dresses out into pleasing little bumps – girls that you know must be far too young for whatyou have in mind for them. But as long as you keepthose ideas safe in the privacy of your own mind, there’s no harm – is there?

But not today. Today you have a day off. No work for you today. Oh no. Today you’re relaxing at home, taking benefit of some quiet time while the weather is a bit cooler and the dresses are a little less – distracting.

At the moment, you’re sitting comfortably in your lounge watching TV. Well, it’s notreally TV, is it – It’s a video. You have a particular liking for these kind of videos, as most men do, but you call themEducational Dramas.

This one is about a man who goes out in search of young women and girls. He seens harmless enough – he just likes to follow them, and while he’s stalking them he imagines what he’d like to do with them if he were to manage to catch one of them alone.

Oh my – possibly a man after your own heart? At the moment, he’s following a particularly lovely, scantily clad young lady away from the town. She knows he’s there, but she has built the mistake of taking a quiet, lonely path – a shortcut to the safety of her home. She begins to hurry as the pathway takes her along the edge of a wooded copse. She begins to hurry, believing she has left him behind. She can not hear his footsteps any more, and believing she is safe she begins to relax. Then, just as she is about to turn and look behind her, she feels an arm grip around her waist from behind, and a hand across her mouth as she is lifted from the ground and carried, struggling into the wood.

She struggles helplessly as the man carries her effortlessly, deep into the wood, her hands unable to reach her assailant, and her legs kicking uselessly, until at last she is dropped onto her feet on the leafy woodland floor. A hand reaches from behind to grip her top, ripping it away while the other still firmly covers her mouth. Now the hand begins to grope her perfect, ripe young breasts, squeezing the flesh roughly and making the dark, shiny nipples bulge.

Her arms thrash and her legs kick, but she is completely helpless as he holds her from behind.

You discover yourself getting really turned on. You drift into a semi-dream like state, your eyes glazed but fixed to the screen as, unconsciously, your hand begins to idly stimulate yourself – until a familiar sound interrupts your thoughts to wake you from your sinful dream.

OMG – It’s the doorbell.

You reach for the remote and switch off the TV, then, puttingthings away you straighten your clothing, taking particular care to adjust the fit of certain body parts within the restricted space available, before gonna attend to the caller.

As you open the door, you look down to see a short, very young looking girl standing a few feet away from the step. At first sight she reminds you of the young lady from the educational video you have just been watching, but much, much younger. She is holding a small, open topped box of cakes, with a hand written card notice that reads, ‘Tatum College Charity Cake Sale’.

I smile at you, my innocent childlike face beaming in hopeful anticipation, and immediately yourequipment begins to react in the only way efficient for a red blooded male to respond to the sight of something uniquely sexual, yet clearly forbidden.

As I stand before you, dressed in my favourite college uniform, I simply reinforce the fantasy of what you would love for a partner, particularly after what you have been watching. With my cute little blonde pigtails, my semi-transparent cream coloured blouse with the top few buttons open, and my short pleated skirt with its black and red check pattern, that displays almost all of my skinny thighs right up to my pert little bottom, just hidden by white lace panties, I smile alluringly up at you. Your gaze falls to my feet, shod in a pair of black patent court shoes with white ankle socks, before returning to my blouse. You can tell from the dark shape of my nipples that I’m wearing nothing underneath.

“Hello,” I greet you brightly, at the same instant that you also say “Hello.” I give out an embarrassed laugh, and turn my head slightly, revealing a delicious looking tendon on my long, slender neck. It seems to invite a kiss as you study my unusually lithe form, imagining the contours of my slight young body beneath the flimsy upper layer of material.

“And what can I do for you?” you ask, actually more interested in what you would like to do for me – or should that be ‘with’ me.

“We’re having a cake sale Sir,” I announce brightly, holding up the box for you to see. “Do you see anything that you would like?” I ask, gazing up at you and smiling as I step a little closer.

You smile down at me and lean forward. “Mmmm… They look nice,” you tell me, not looking at the cakes at all, but instead studying the tiny glimpse of cleavage that you can just make out, down in the darkness at the front of my partly open blouse.

“They’re a dollar each,” I tell you, innocently, and you smile, thinking to yourself, ‘Hmmm. Two dollars for a pair of cute little girl titties’.

Your equipment rapidly begins to fill the extremely restricted space available once more, as you ask, “How much for everything?”

I begin to count the cakes, but you stop me, saying, “Icould buy all of your cakes, but I’m much more interested in something else.”

I look back at you, obviously puzzled.

“How old are you?” you ask.

Suddenly, I realise what that other thing is, that you’re interested in. I smile as I start to fumble with the fourth button on my blouse, returning your question with another. “How old do Ilook?” I ask you.

You study my features, and consider the idea. “Hmmm,” you say aloud.

‘Old enough I hope’, you think to yourself. “Well? How oldare you?” you ask.

“Certainly old enough for anythingyou might have in mind Sir,” I smile.

The fourth button has now fallen loose, and you can clearly see the pale, creamy flesh between my almost non-existent breasts.

“I’m sorry honey,” you tell me, “but Ihave to know that you’rereally old enough to be here with me… like this,” you add, with a gulp.

“Look at me Sir,” I reply, fiddling with another button. “I’m wearing a senior uniform… at the moment,” I add, smiling seductively. “I know I don’t look it, but girls at my schoolhave to be over eighteen to wear these.”

I hadn’t wanted to tell you that, but I knew that if I didn’t, you probably wouldn’t buy my cakes.

“Do you like it,” I ask, raising one knee to give you a brief glimpse of my panties.

“It’s… very…” you pause and gulp, “revealing,” you say, admiring my bare thigh and meagre cleavage.

“That’s the idea Sir,” I smile.

“Would you like to come in?” you ask.

“Depends,” I reply. “Are you going to buy my cakes?” I ask.

You smile. “How much?” you ask.

“How much am Iworth?” I ask, ignoring the cost of the cakes.

“Come in and I’ll show you,” you reply, with a wicked grin.

You lead me into your lounge and sit on a wide upholstered chair, patting the seat beside you, but I shake my head, smiling as I decline. Instead, I stand before you and start a slow, deliberate striptease, very slowly unfastening more of the buttons, occasionally flipping the front of blouse back to almost reveal my meager charms, as you loosen your belt and push your pants away, which fall in a crumpled heap around your ankles.

You take hold of yourself while I dance, all the while smiling enticingly while watching the excitement grow on your face as I allow the front of my blouse fall teasingly open, almost but not quite revealing my tiny ‘little girl’ breasts with those dainty, stiff little nipples.

Then I release the clasp on my skirt, and ease it open, allowing you to glimpse the bare, creamy pink flesh and my white lace panties beneath. I move close to you, letting you take the skirt from me, and you discard it to the floor before I allow you to slip the blouse from my shoulders, letting it also fall to the floor behind me.

I drop to my knees and push your hand away, taking the thick, throbbing shaft in my dainty little hand, and I gaze up at you with a wanton expression as I open my mouth slightly to kiss the bulbous end. You close your eyes as I enclose the tip in the warm wetness of my mouth, sucking gently on it and running the tip of my tongue around and around in tiny circles, driving you wild with desire.

You wonder what I could be doing with my other hand, but you soon realise, as I raise my hand and offer you a pair of sticky, glistening fingers.

Question is – would you take them?

If you refuse, maybe you won’t get the next instalment – he he.

… To be continued…

Thank you again for choosing to read my story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

Please look out for the next part — if not already online, hopefully soon to be published.

In recognition for my effort, please be kind enough to give a score. I really do appreciate it. Also, if you have any thoughts that you would like to distribute, please leave a opinion below, or if you simply want to chat then contact me with a Private Message.

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Thank you.