A Culture Clash

"Dude, that man is wearing a skirt! Why is he wearing a skirt?"

The voice appeared at my elbow. I looked to my left, and there was a cute little blonde, late teens, maybe 4'8 or 4'10". Fun size. Proportionate. Miniature legs that went all the way up to where her tight tee shirt met her tight leggings. No panty line, no bra line. She was with a boy, obviously gay, walking past me at the mall. Her companion sneered and giggled.

Blondie made eye contact with me and asked me "Dude, why are you wearing a skirt?"

"It's a kilt," I replied, a little gruffly maybe. I am from a generation where respecting your elders meant not prefacing questions with "dude." Her eyes drifted to my sporran, the bag in front (a highland fanny pack maybe) and she squealed "Fuzzy balls!"

Her gay friend just about melted into the floor. This was too much for him to take. My sporran is furry (badger fur) and has 5 silver balls that dangle down. Blondie's friend grabbed her arm, and tried to pull her away. With her free hand, Blondie reached for my sporran.

"Ooooh, it's fuzzy, it's soft," she purred, stroking the bag dangling in front of my cock. In the middle of the mall. With her gay friend tugging, and with mall shoppers circulating around.

"Shit," I thought, "some mall rent-a-cop is going to see this and then I will some explaining to do."

I said, softly, "Young lady, you don't grab a strange man's sporran without permission or an introduction. Please stop. If you want to ask me questions, that is fine, but please don't touch me there, here in public."

Her eyes widened, and her little poofter pal pulled at her again. She shrugged him off, eyes still on me, and said, demurely, "I'm sorry. Will you really answer some questions?"

Of course I would. I suggested we go to the food court, or one of the restaurants, to chat. Blondie agreed, and her friend huffed off, following a statement that ended with "gross."

I introduced myself, kind of. I invoked an old family name.

"I am Colin. What is your name?"

In a rush, my companion told me she was Lisa, that she had never seen anyone dressed like me, or heard anyone who talked like me.

"What kind of food do you want?" I asked.

When she stalled, I suggest the little ethnic place off the food court, with a buffet and booths. "

Sure," she said, "but I spent all my money."

Gallant visitor I am, I told her it would be my treat. She chose a small salad, big dessert, and a fizzy water. I picked out a sandwich and a beer. I paid, and as I was getting my change, Lisa made a beeline for a booth in the back corner. Out of the way, in the relative dark. Like she knew what was in store.

We sat next to each other. First things first. "How old are you Lisa?" I asked.

When she asked why, I told her that the toast to a girl's health was not the same as that to young woman's.

"Eighteen, just yesterday. Tommy was helping me spend some birthday money."

Tommy, it seemed, was her gay friend.

We fell to eating and talking, about where I was from, how long I had been in the States, her friends, how close she was to finishing high school, and what losers high school boys were. All either gay or out for their own sexual satisfaction.

"What is that fuzzy thing your wearing called?" she asked.

"It's a sporran," I said, "for carrying necessities in."

"And the skirt?"

"A kilt" I reminded her.

She nodded -- "I've heard jokes about kilts," she said slowly. She thought for a moment, then said "Oh yeah, 'what's worn under the kilt?'"

Suddenly, she looked at me and got a lot older. "What is worn under the kilt?"

"There is only one good way to find out," I replied.

She stopped eating, and put the hand nearest me under the table, on my thigh. She brushed my sporran, looked a little guilty, then moved her hand down my leg until she reached the hem of the kilt.

She giggled a little, saying "Dude, this like making out with Steffi at school."

"Really?" I replied.

"Yup, I go to Catholic school and we have to wear skirts like this, well kind of, and Steffi is gay and likes me to touch her sometimes."

"Ah," I said. "I expect this might be different."

Lisa rucked up my kilt, her finger tips moving up my thigh along my flesh. My cock, which had been stirring for a bit, began to fill. Her palm was against my thigh as she came in cock range, and the back of her hand grazed me. She gasped, a little, and jumped. She quickly regained composure. Her hand left my thigh and wrapped around my erection. Her fingers loosened their grip, and she began to walk along my cock, from the uncut head to the base. She dipped her fingers down, and softly said "more fuzzy balls."

She leaned into me, left breast nuzzling my arm. I felt her nipple harden. My right hand went to her left thigh. She jumped again, then relaxed, parting her legs a little. My hand traveled up and she once again grasped my cock. She shivered as my hand reached the cleft between her legs. The dampness of her young cunt had soaked her leggings.

I suggested we leave. I was staying in a hotel near the mall. She stammered an agreement, yanked back to reality. I reached across my chest with my left hand and grazed her left nipple. She bit her lip, and stood up quickly, dropping my cock and ignoring her dessert.

The walk to the hotel took five minutes. I could see Lisa was deep in thought. We got to my room, and I opened my sporran, pulling out my room key. Ever the gent, I opened the door and stepped to one side for her. Lisa looked at me, and came to a decision.

She stepped in, taking off her top as she entered. I followed close behind and watched as her perfect little breasts came into view. As the door shut, and I put the safety latch on, Lisa moved toward me, sank to her knees, and raised my kilt, tenting it over her head. Warm teen lips engulfed me. I put one hand on the wall, and reached the other for her head. My sporran was in the way. I pulled it around, one handed, undid the clasp of its chain belt and threw it on the bed.

Lisa jumped forward a little when I brought my hand to her head, startled. That only drove me deeper into her mouth. She moaned as I grew a bit more. I asked her to stop a moment.

With a "hmmm?" of confusion, she pulled away and I stepped out of my kilt.

I pulled her up, and kissed her, tasting my precum on her lips. Down came her soggy leggings, off went my shirt and my shoes were kicked to the corner. I picked up this wee sprig of a lass, and laid her on the bed.

I stood back a moment to look at her. In my 50 years, I had not seen a sight so bonny. Her mons seemed shaven, but in reality, the hair was so fine, silky and sparse, it was an illusory baldness. I pulled her to the edge of the bed, and knelt with her legs on my shoulders. I kissed up one leg, grazed her damp pussy on my way to the other. She writhed. Back in the other direction.

"Lick me," she hissed.

I did, from anus to clit. Lisa tensed, then sighed and relaxed, opening wide for me. I bathed her, spreading her labia with my tongue, stroking her thighs and reaching for her proud little breasts. I found her clit, and trapped it in my teeth as my tongue rasped over the little morsel. Lisa clenched and came, gasping little cries of arousal and relief.

I stood, and picked her up and estimated her weight at maybe 15 stone," I thought, or about a hundred pounds. Fun size indeed. She wrapped her arms around my neck and snuggled in as my cock sought her cunt. I asked her if she was a virgin. She shook her head no, but told me he'd been small, and fast. I promised to take my time.

I lowered Lisa onto my uncut cock and she flinched as my head parted her pussy lips. I moved deeper into her, filling her teen cunt with my 50 year old cock. When there was no more space to move, no more me to put in her, no more her to go into, we held still. Her juices seeped past my cock bathing my balls. I pushed her hips away, arching myself back then reversed course. With each thrust we slapped together and grunted our passion.

I walked to the bed with her impaled on me, and laid her on her back.

She looked up and said, in a much older voice, "fuck me, now."

Fuck her I did. She came, flailing and shrieking so that I had to cover her mouth with my hand. Still inside her, I turned Lisa on her side and began to fuck her while straddling her. Her knees were up to her breasts, and the view of my cock sliding into her young cunt was exquisite.

Lisa's anus was exposed, and I wet my index finger in my mouth, then worked it into her ass. She thrashed and moaned and pushed back harder. I pulled my finger out, spat on my hand and lubed another finger. Two fingers in her ass and my cock in her young cunt, Lisa's eyes whirled and rolled as another orgasm roiled through her.

I pulled out of her pussy, and moved her slightly, placing my cockhead at her anus. Thumb in her sopping cunt, finger on her clit, she pushed back. My cock pierced her bum, slipping in gradually. The visual -- my cock driving into that petite girl's petite ass - was stunning. I fucked her ass until she came, and this time I did too. I pulled out, and lay beside her. I held her until our breathing settled, and then offered to draw her a bath.

The scent of a freshly washed American teen is delightful. The sight of a freshly fucked American teen is delightful too. We dressed, preparing to part.

With a sudden glint in her eye, she said "Dude, will you be here tomorrow? Steffi won't believe I met a dude in a skirt. She'll have to see for herself. Can I bring her by?"

Ah, will the sight of two freshly fucked American teens be twice as delightful?