She Was The Gateway Drug

She Was The Gateway Drug

Josh Rollins

Copyright © 2013 by Josh Rollins

Smashwords Edition

“Here” She handed me the phone and my heart
sank: it was her mother. What the fuck do you say to the woman
whose daughter is a second away from going down on you?

“Hello?” The voice on the other line was
heavy with dread.

“Yeah... I’m here,” was all I could say.

“Please, just bring Ashley home to us
safe...” I heard her choking on tears, “...just --”

“Ms. Ryan,” I fought my rising panic, “I
promise you, I mean your daughter no harm. I didn’t know she didn’t
tell you where she was going.”

I don’t think she believed me; I don’t think
any mother would. But I didn’t have much time to think about it,
because Ashley just placed my cock in her soft mouth and closed her
lips around it.

The funny thing was that Ashley found me, not
the other way around. Online, she looked like the sweetest of
girls, with huge puppy eyes and long groomed hair to match with her
catholic school uniform. She sent me the less innocent pictures on
my way to Penn Station where I was to pick her up.

She waited for me next to the payphones in a
desolate corner. The two homeless men who slept at her feet and the
stench of urine made her stand out like an angel.

“Ashley?”

She didn’t answer. She simply opened her eyes
wide, locked in on me like a heat guided missile, and ran toward me
to embrace me with a bone-crushing hug. I was too shocked to
move.

“I... guess so,” I said tapping her back
lightly.

On the way to my apartment, she took my hand
in hers and kissed it softly to the dismay of a mother with her two
children who scooted further up the seat in the subway car. It must
have been due to the fact that I looked more like her older brother
than a boyfriend. She hadn't said a single word to me when I asked
her questions:

“Are you hungry?” - nod.

“Are you cold”? - shake.

“Is everything ok?” - pause, enthusiastic
nod.

My apartment, a huge vintage behemoth I
managed to steal from right under the noses of my coworkers, had a
long narrow hallway at the entrance. Ashley had a wide frame and
the two of us could not walk side by side without rubbing each
other, which triggered Ashley right away. She turned sideways,
anchored herself against the wall, and brought my hip between her
legs. My shock didn’t fully register before she lifted up her skirt
above her crotch and started humping me.

“Shouldn’t we first,” I tried to say, but it
was in vain. She was moaning loudly, probably on purpose to shut me
up, and squeezed into my hardness through my jeans.

“Long night?” My boss greeted me as usual
from her office.

“Uh huh.”

I sat down with my second mug of coffee that
morning and tried to concentrate on the screen, but it was
impossible. All I wanted to do was to minimize Outlook and peer
into my personal email, where Ashley left me a “surprise.”

I didn’t really sleep that night and my cock
was still semi-twitching in fatigue, but that didn’t stop the urge.
Ashley was like a gateway drug and I knew after I had her that
night that my life would never be the same again.

There’s a first time for everything. Some
things though, like jerking off in the bathroom at work, were never
on my agenda. Yet, here I was, staring at my phone in disbelief.
There were photos of her looking half asleep, spreading puffy cunt
lips with her hand; a series of photos of her bending over in my
living room, her ass to the mirror, with texts asking me which one
I like best; but the one that made me finally do it was that of the
frying pan, the one I just used to make us omelets not even two
hours ago, shoved by the handle into her pussy.

As if that wasn’t enough, she also begged me
to masturbate and demanded to see my cum in a picture. By the time
I crawled back to my seat, my cock was yelling at me in pain, my
balls kicking themselves in. There was nothing left to drain out,
and it was still only morning.

When I returned, I opened the door to a
starkly naked girl with hands crossed over her sex. The position
framed her chest by her arms, causing her breasts to perk out more
with her saucer-sized areolas pointing at me like two
bullseyes.

“Hello, sir..?”

I didn’t ask to be called sir. I didn’t even
consider it. In the little exchange of words we had the previous
day Ashley told me stories that made my hair stand up: She would
allow men to take pictures for money so she could travel, or would
record herself having anal sex with these men and try to sell her
videos on the internet. She was on her first year for a girl-only
Ivy League catholic college somewhere upstate, where anything
remotely close to what she was now doing would grant immediate and
unconditional ban. She came from a very strict home and was
supposed to preserve her virginity for the man she was to
marry.

The virgin-nymph was now standing at
attention naked in my apartment, waiting for me to give her
orders.

I instructed her to come to my side and
remove her hands. It was easy to see that the outer lips of her
vagina were engrossed with dark pink against her milky white skin.
I ran my thumb over her navel, and she squirmed.

“You were told to shave clean by the others,
I guess?”

“Yes. I was told it makes me look more like a
little girl,” she looked at me, her cheeks turning pink. I brought
the back of my hand to feel their heat.

“It does. But some men prefer to have sex
with women, not little girls,” I said and was surprised at my own
voice. It didn’t seem to register for her, and she looked at me
puzzled.

“Sir wants me to let the hair grow?”

“Well, if you want me to be your Sir, you’d
have to. And I will give you specific instructions. You do not need
to act like a little girl around me Ashley; you can be who you
really are.”

That
hurt her. She clung to me
tightly: “You don’t like me.”

Suddenly I was afraid that this little girl,
who was about my height and probably more than my weight, would
turn out to be a serial killer. What happens if she really thinks I
don’t like her? She didn’t seem anything short of mentally
unstable. I suddenly realized I was locked in a game that could end
terribly wrong for me.

“I do like you, if last night was any
indication.” She was just holding on to me. “Do your parents know
you’re here?” I was terrified as soon as I asked the question.

“I told them I’m going to a friend’s
house.”

“Wouldn’t they call your friend? To make sure
you’re there?”

“I don’t want to talk about my parents, can
we have fun instead?” She brought her hand to my pants again and
unzipped them. So that was how she resolved conflicts. How much of
it was an act, and how much of it was real? I tried to resist, but
she persisted. When I saw her head lowering into my crotch, her
hand pulling out my shaft toward her mouth, all sense left me
again.

Seconds later I was splayed across my bed as
Ashley started giving my cock small, soft little kisses. She
climbed on top of me and grasped my cock with expert hands. She
lubed me quickly, never letting go for more than the second
required to pour it. Then she leaned forward, her breast hanging
low and threatening to poke at my eyeballs, as she lured my cock
between her butt cheeks she spread with her other hand. I slid home
into her ass.

It all happened so fast I wasn’t even sure I
was really awake. She knew what to do on top of me as effortlessly
as if she was tying her shoelaces.

This repeated for two more days, with her
continually going on top so my cock could push into her anal
entrance. She believed what she was doing was a sin, but as long as
her virginity was intact, she didn’t mind as much.

She rode me to the point of pain. When I came
back from the bathroom, she’d wait for me on the bed, fingers
teasing her clit; when I needed a rest, she’d get off and suck my
softening, oversensitive cock. She taught me that I could orgasm
more than once, more than twice, whether I wanted to or not. I had
no choice in the manner. Was I really “Sir,” or was it her?

I woke up the next day to tugging on my arm.
Ashley was awake with my hand between her legs, my curled fingers
shoved into her wet cunt, her plump ass raising and falling as she
humped hard into the bed in growing intensity. There was no end to
this, I realized. The girl was out of her mind. I decided I had to
do something or end up dead from exhaustion. I managed to calm her
down only after I promised she could suck me again afterwards.

“If you want to be my pet, you have to have
some self control,” I heard myself say. “You need to ask for
permission before you touch me, and you need to assume some
responsibility.”

She pouted, but I wasn’t done. I took a big
breath. “You have to call your parents.”

She wasn’t angry or scared, she was just sad.
It looked like as if she was about to cry. “Please Sir, don’t send
me home... I told them I’ll be back by the end of the week.”

I pet her head, my fingers brushing through
her hair softly. “I’m not sending you home, but I want you to be a
responsible girl. Your parents are probably freaking out right now,
and I don’t blame them.”

“Ms. Ryan, please don’t worry,” I practically
begged. “She’s right here, would you like to talk to her? She’s OK.
We are both fine, I promise.”

Ashley let go of my cock reluctantly as I
handed her the phone. “You promised I could suck you off,” she
pouted.

My hand covered the receiver: “and you
promised you’d talk to your parents. I’m not going anywhere, I’m
going to sit right there.” I handed her the phone and turned to sit
on the sofa. I watched her talk to her mother, fully naked, her
finger automatically sliding toward her clit as if it had a mind of
its own. Was there no end to this girl’s sexual hunger?

The conversation was simple enough. No voices
were raised, no begging or anger. Was this a usual scenario for the
mother and daughter? How often did this happen?

Ashley handed me back my phone: “She wants to
talk to you.” She got up and I almost crossed my legs
instinctively, but she went for the bathroom instead. I was safe
for now.

“Ashley explained she met you on the
internet. It’s not the first time she’s done it, and you sound like
a nice guy.” After a pause she continued: “Listen, Ashley is very
special,” - I noticed how she emphasized special - “and she gets
herself into... situations. We are taking care of it. I don’t feel
like I need to ask you for this, but please, don’t take advantage
of her. Send her home back safely to us, as soon as possible.” I
think she was on the verge of tears again. “She doesn’t know how
dangerous this can be... she doesn’t
understand.
Do you
understand?”

I closed my eyes and nodded. Ashley hadn’t
put clothes on since she took them off two days ago, and only
yesterday I had to convince her that leaving the house without them
was a terrible idea. Her mother didn’t need to convince me Ashley
was not exactly normal. But there was something more. Something raw
about Ashley that seemed to click with me. I was surprised at how I
felt: calm, calculative, as if I could understand her better than I
could understand her mother, better than anyone.

“Yes Ms. Ryan, I understand perfectly. Don’t
worry, I’ll talk to her also. She will be on the train back first
thing tomorrow, I promise.”

That night I forbade Ashley from touching me
and instructed her to masturbate instead. Matt, an old and trusty
friend, called to get more details about the developing story.

“Let me get this straight. You have a
beautiful nymph running naked in your house, whose only wish is to
suck your cock by command, and you can’t handle it? Wuss!”

“That’s right. It’s too much for me. I didn’t
think the day would come, but I think four orgasms in one evening
is my limit for now. I am working on it though,” I joked.