Chapter 2: Tartan Skirt

edited by Master Ken

Saturday, August 31st, 2013 – Paris, Texas

At dawn this morning, I sold my soul to Lucifer, the Devil himself, for the power to turn myself invisible. I loved peeping on women, and being invisible was the ultimate way to peep. Just an hour ago, I watched a girl change in the Banana Republic dressing room. Her name was Mindy, and I ended up fucking her hard. She thought I was a ghost who couldn't pass-on to heaven unless my blue balls were fixed.

To recharge my batteries after my romp with Mindy, I lay on the cold floor of the Paris Commons, beneath the stairs, so I could stare up some women's skirts. It was my favorite spot in the whole mall, and now I didn't need to be afraid of getting caught. My pecker was stirring and I was looking for the next girl to molest while enjoying the sights.

I loved the thrill of looking up a lady's skirt and seeing her unmentionables. I loved them all: plain, white panties; cute panties with cartoon characters, or hearts, or kisses; sexy panties made of gauzy fabric, lace, and bright bows. Boy-shorts, bikini, high-cut, tangas, thongs, g-strings, and even the plain-old classic-cut. I loved them all!

Color flashed out of the corner of my eyes and I looked at the base of the stairs and saw a pair of tan knees that peaked out beneath a green-and-red tartan skirt. I smiled, watching the girl mount the stairs. I loved the anticipation, wondering what sort of panties she would have on. She was young, a sophomore or a junior in high school. I was betting on cute panties with some adorable animal printed on them.

There was a flash of hot pink beneath her legs and my pecker stiffened. Well, Scotty, you were wrong. I had one perfect moment where I could see straight up between her legs at the filmy gusset of her panties. The material - molded to the lips of her cooch - was transparent enough that I could make out her shaved slit and a landing-strip of dark pubic hair.

I had found my next playmate.

I rolled out from beneath the stairs. I had to dodge a bevy of shoppers. No-one could see me, and that made it difficult to move through a crowded mall. Luckily I was a skinny guy, and slipped through. I raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Reaching the landing, I searched for Miss Tartan-Skirt. I looked to my left, straining to see the red-and-green of her skirt.

Nothing.

My heart was hammering with frustrated excitement. I had to find her. I had to see those panties up close. I had to see what they were covering. I whipped my head about desperately. Where was she? I looked to my right, nimbly dodging around an old man in a scooter that almost barreled into me. Did I lose her?

Disappointment soured my stomach. I lost her.

As I turned to walk back down the stairs, I caught a a flash of red-and-green skirt disappearing into a Lady Footlocker. I grinned and hugged the wall as I walked down the second-floor balcony to the store. I reached the window and peered in. There she was, looking at tennis shoes. She wore a white blouse, with very short, ruffled sleeves. Her hair was long, black, and plaited and her face was round and innocent, with huge, dark, doe-eyes.

She found a pair of shoes and sat down on a bench. I quickly hurried over, kneeling down on the floor. Her legs were spread wide and I had to lower my face almost all the way to the floor, but I was able to see right up her skirt at the treasure hidden between her legs. Oh, fuck, that is a lovely pair of panties. A fringe of pink lace surrounded the leg-holes. In fact, the panties were made entirely of pink lace that left her pussy on display.

I moved closer, my head almost between her legs as she tried on her shoes. Then she stood up and I scurried back, bumping into the display rack in my haste to get out of her way. The rack shook and Miss Tartan-Skirt jumped in surprise and frowned at the rack. She shrugged and walked away from me in her shoes; my eyes were glued to the way her ass swayed beneath her skirt.

I grasped my pecker; stroked it slowly as I watched her tight ass. She turned, and I noticed just how well her breasts filled out her top. I could just make out the shadow of her bra beneath the blouse and I wondered what it looked like. Hot pink and lacy, like the panties, with her hard nipples and pink aerola visible? Or something else.

Miss Tartan-Skirt shook her head, kicked off the shoes, and returned them to the box. Then she started to browse the shelves. I moved closer, my pecker inches from her pert ass. I reached out and stroked the nape of her neck.

"Holy jeez!" she yelped and, laughing silently, I stepped back. She stared in confusion right at me, her doe-eyes wide. I stroked my pecker harder. Shaking her head, she turned back to browsing for shoes.

Then I reached out and caressed her arm. Her looks of confusion and consternation were priceless. Every few minutes, just when she seemed to relax, I would strike. A light touch on the back of her hand, a caressing swipe at her calf, a gentle stroke of her cheek. She looked around carefully before she started to try on the third pair of shoes. As she bent down to untie her own shoes, I reached around her body and gave her firm tit a good squeeze.

"Everything ah'ite, miss?" drawled the clerk when Miss Tartan-Skirt just about jumped out of her skin.

"Yes," Miss Tartan-Skirt squeaked in fear. "I'll take this pair!"

I followed the girl as she scurried out of the store, the bag with her new shoes tightly clutched in her hands. She was so unnerved she didn't even bother to try them on. I followed her all the way out of the mall. She was almost running by the time we reached the parking lot. As she fumbled in her purse for her car keys, I goosed her ass and enjoyed her plump feel.

"What in tarnation!" she gasped and dropped her purse and Lady Footlocker bag.

Her doe-eyes were wild as she stared around. There was no-one anywhere near us. Her hands shook as she bent down to retrieve her purse and bag. She fished out her keys and almost dropped them again. She took a deep breath, muttering about being tired, and began to calm herself down.

She unlocked her Toyota Corolla, popped her trunk, and put her shopping bag in. I opened the rear, driver-side door and slid in. She gaped in surprise. "Need more sleep," she muttered as she slammed the door closed. She got into the front seat, and kept glancing back, frowning.

I loved being invisible. It was the most freeing thing in the world.

As she drove, I carefully grabbed a loose lock of black hair and leaned in and smelled her apricot shampoo. To my horror, she started texting as she drove. Glancing up from her phone every few seconds to make sure the road ahead was clear. Whenever she sent a text she would almost instantly get a response. Twice we drifted into oncoming traffic without her even noticing. I wished to God I could put on the seatbelt, but it would be a little obvious floating in the air around my invisible body.

Finally she pulled into a driveway of a one-story rambler the color of a cloudy sky. She got out of the car, collected her bag, and texted as she walked. I quietly opened the door, slipped out, and shut it every so softly. She was at her porch, furiously texting away; I stalked up behind her. A vindictive feeling grew inside me. The stupid girl almost got us killed and I wanted to make her pay.

She put her phone into her purse and fished out her keys. As she reached for the lock, I pounced and pushed her up against the door. She screamed and glanced over her shoulder as she struggled in my grasp.

"What in the blue hell is goin' on!" she shrieked in fear as she looked right through me.

I slipped a hand up her thigh, up to her butt and gave it a squeeze. She started to relax. I had wished that any woman I molested would enjoy it. My fingers found the waistband of her panties, hooking through the elastic band.

"What are you?" She sounded afraid and aroused; her big doe-eyes shone with her mixed emotions.

"A ghost," I moaned, trying to sound ghostly. "Forever cursed to haunt purtee gals and use them for my relief."

I was pulling her panties down, my hard pecker pressing against her now naked ass. She jumped, feeling the streak of invisible pre-cum my pecker must have left on her ass. "Relief?"

"I need to cum in a sweet young thang's cooch or I can't get to heaven."

I pulled her hot-pink, lacy panties down until they were bunched around her ankles. I gave her ass another squeeze and pressed up behind her. I could feel her pillowy cheeks pushing against my groin as I guided my pecker to her moist pussy.

"Please don't," she begged. "We're outside. People'll see us!"

My pecker started to sink into her. "I reckon that's what makes it so excitin'!"

Miss Tartan-Skirt threw back her head and moaned as my pecker speared into her hot, moist cunt. Like Mindy, she was tight but not a virgin. I grunted, and started working my pecker through her slippery sheath.

"Oh fuck," she moaned. "This can't be happening!"

"Sweetness, you just better start acceptin' it!" I licked her ear. "You got one hot, juicy cooch!"

"I must be going crazy."

I kept pounding her snatch, enjoying her sweetness as I reached around her and found the small buttons that kept her blouse closed. I tried to fumble with them, but they were too tiny for my fat fingers. Instead, I ripped her blouse open and her cunt tightened on my pecker as she shrieked in surprise. I groped her breasts. Her bra felt lacy, and I fingered the pattern. Her nipples were hard underneath and she gasped every time I brushed one.

My balls started to boil over and I pounded her cooch harder and harder. I heard a few muttered laughs, and looked over my shoulder to see a group of teenage boys filming us with their phones. I wondered just what they were seeing. Her panties were down around her ankles and her skirt bunched up to expose a tan ass with just the faintest lines from her bikini. Her blouse hung open and her head was thrown back. It must look like she's masturbating on the porch.

I smiled; the teens watching us were voyeurs after my own heart.

So I decided to give them a show. I picked up Miss Tartan-Skirt, spinning her around. "What in the blue hell!" she screamed. Her porch had a railing. I bent her over it, and continued to fuck her fast and hard.

I grabbed her bra, pulling the cups down to expose her tits to the hungry gaze of the teens. "No, no, no! Please don't do this!"

I groped her naked tits, pinching her hard nipples as I pounded her snatch. She tried to cover her breasts and I pushed her hands away. Mortified, she buried her face in her hands. I watched the boys, their eyes wide with lust and disbelief, phones held up to capture every moment.

"What a ho!" the first yelled, the boldest of the boys. And then they all were shouting.

"You're a fuckin' slut!"

"Holy shit, look at her tits!"

"How the fuck is she doin' that?"

I was playing with her round breasts, squeezing them and lifting them up. "Look at them," I told Miss Tartan-Skirt. "Enjoy their stares like a good little slut."

"I'm not a ... ohhh ... slut!" she moaned.

"You sure as hell are, sweetness. I'm only drawn to girls as easy as a seein' tits at Mardi Gras." I reached around, grabbed her arms and pulled them away from her face. "Now sweetness, don't be shy. Be proud that them boys there like to see your sweet hooters."

"Oh my word!" she moaned, her cunt tightening about my cock, her hips giving a little wiggle. "I can't believe I'm gonna cum!"

"You best believe it, sweetness, and cum for them boys!"

She gave a loud, wordless moan and her cunt started convulsing around my pecker. She felt so good as her orgasming snatch massaged my pecker. I slammed one last time into her and flooded her with my invisible cum.

"Thanks, sweetness," I said as I pulled out of her.

Miss Tartan-Skirt rushed to the door, tripping on her panties. She fell onto her knees; her skirt flipped-up and exposed her tan ass and freshly-fucked cunt. The boys hooted in delight, and snapped photos as she scrambled back to her feet. She grabbed her purse, fumbled for her keys as she hastened to unlock the door. She was so frazzled she left the keys in the lock as she slammed the door. The deadbolt clicked and I heard her lean against the door and sigh in relief.