The Mentor

The sponsor meets his charge

She was cute, a real looker.

Thin brown hair, parted on the side. She wore it cut like a boy’s, but there was no mistaking her for a boy. Slim hips. Dark tights. Long, slender legs. She slipped into the Tuesday night AA meeting a few minutes after it started and then shuffled to the back of the room, head down. The walk of shame. Don Manley had seen it many times before. When a girl her age came into an AA meeting, looking like that, it could only mean one thing. She’d gone out for drinks over the weekend and done something she now regretted.

Don smiled and sipped his coffee.

He wanted another look but played it cool. He could still see her shapely legs in his mind. He liked the way her leggings picked up the light, showing off the muscles in her thighs, her bony knees. He imagined her kneeling in the bathroom of one of the local bars, a group of boisterous young men standing around her, their cocks in hand. With the designer drugs available these days, the girls came into AA with the most delightfully sordid stories. Sometimes they woke up with no memory of the night before, but found their phones littered with images. Those pictures told the story their minds had discarded. He imagined this girl grinning into her phone, her cheeks decorated with semen of a boy whose name she’d never recall.

Don shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to turn and check out her legs.

A lot of these girls weren’t really alcoholics. They were good girls, from good families, suppressing their own natural desires. They did it to accommodate their parents, their teachers, and sometimes priests or rabbis. Get a little alcohol in them and they just did the thing they really wanted to do anyhow. Maybe they’d woken up in the arms of a black man, or sucked the pussy of one of their best friends. Soon after they parted from alcohol, girls like these found themselves in a relationship with a black guy or dating another woman. There was a certain beauty in it, the way a thing that at first seemed like a horrible tragedy suddenly transformed itself into the most important and liberating experience of a young girl’s life.

Don stole a glance at her.

Not much makeup, eyes red-ringed and swollen from tears. Crossing her ankles under her chair, she held onto the seat with both her hands. When it came her turn to speak, she said her name was Denver and that she was using heroin. She talked about getting thrown out of college, fired from her job at Hardee’s, and being on shaky terms with her new boyfriend, the guy who gave her the heroin.

A silence descended on the room.

Denver’s voice choked and she dabbed a tear from her eye.

Everyone waited for her to resume. She lifted her shoulders and bit her lip. Glancing around the room, she shook her head once, and then cast her eyes to a spot on the floor. The room stayed quiet for a few seconds before erupting into a hearty welcome, including a chorus of cheers, lots of loud clapping, and even a war whoop.

Denver’s head popped up, her cheeks bright red.

She wore a big grin.

One of the young men jumped out of his chair and handed her a tissue. She bit her lip again, taking the tissue and dabbing at her eyes. A few of the other young guys raced over to the coffee pot. Soon one of the boys stepped up with a paper cup filled with hot coffee, which he offered to her with a goofy grin. She smiled at him, accepting the drink. Suddenly there was a raw, palpable, sexual energy in the room. The young guys were trying to be discreet about it, but it was clear they all wanted to bang her. They whispered amongst themselves, giving Denver hungry looks. A young Latino with tattoos on his arms and a gold chain around his neck slouched in his seat with his legs spread wide, feasting on her with his eyes. After a few minutes one of the other young men slapped him on the shoulder, and the Latino boy grinned, but he wouldn’t stop staring, wouldn’t close his legs.

Denver didn’t seem to mind the attention.

She fidgeted in her seat, pumping her knees open and closed a mile a minute.

At the closing prayer, there was a little stampede of men competing to stand on either side of her. Don grinned, holding out his hands to the person on either side of him, completing the circle.

In the parking lot, it was more of the same.

The young men surrounded Denver, growing boisterous, loud. She wore a big grin, holding her own in the middle of them. Finally, Margie, one of the women who’d been coming to the Tuesday night AA group a few years, marched into the pack, took Denver by the elbow, and steered her to the other side of the parking lot, where Don and a few of the others stood.

Don nodded and smiled at Denver.

He was a good-looking man, with a rugged face and a well-built body. Sober a long time, he was one of the old-timers at the Tuesday night AA meeting.

He was married. Trusted.

It didn’t take much to get her talking. She lived with her mother in a dodgy part of town. Her father had abandoned them. She was on probation for shoplifting. Had been expelled from school. Her biggest fear was that she might lose her boyfriend.

Don cut his eyes to Margie. The two traded a look. Margie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. There was an awkward silence.

“Wait,” Denver said, ignoring Margie. “I want to stop using drugs.”

Don smiled at Denver.

“I want to get my life together,” she said, her voice rising.

She shook her head. She launched into a story about a time she was at a party, smoking crack. She said one of her classmates, a good-looking and very popular boy invited her to go upstairs. Looking at her feet, Denver worked the toe of her boot into the macadam. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, huddled with shame. She said she’d been too interested in the pipe to get up off the couch. Looking up at Don, she smiled sadly at him.

“Upstairs?” Don asked. He had no idea what she meant.

Denver raised her brows, a surprised look on her face. Slowly her expression transformed into a mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” she said. “You know. Upstairs.”

Don gave her a curious look.

Denver glanced toward the crowd of young men only now beginning to disperse. She twisted her hands. “All the girls like to go upstairs every once in a while,” she said.

She was telling him she had turned down an invitation for sex.

Margie averted her eyes.

Don snorted softly. His cheeks went hot and he looked at his shoes. He chuckled.

Some of the girls who came to the Tuesday night AA meeting weren’t really alcoholics, but Denver wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t suppressing anything. She had no one to accommodate. All she had was a girl-size hole in the middle of her heart, and she was trying to fill it with whatever she could find: booze, drugs. Men. Cocks.

Margie cooed a few words of comfort.

The street light gleamed off Denver’s tights, accentuating her narrow hips and firm round ass. She was Gucci on the outside, Kmart on the inside. Discarded by her father, dating a drug dealer, fine-tuned to male attention. Girls like her imagined a guy would help them reclaim some lost piece of their soul, but in reality a man was never the solution. If Denver were lucky, she’d figure that out. Meanwhile, she’d tear through all the young men at the Tuesday night AA meeting like a gas-powered mower driving through a field of tall grass.

Denver traded phone numbers with Margie.

Don crushed his cigarette with the toe of his boot. Denver was more like him than he cared to admit. His cock swelled in his jeans.


It was early Saturday afternoon and Don stood at the urinal in the Cross Creek Mall.

His cock was hard, but he didn’t want to jack off into the urinal. He didn’t have time. He had only come here to purchase a three-quarter-inch drill bit and some wood screws. He wanted his erection to pass so that he could relieve himself.

Get on with his chores.

He just couldn’t get the image of Marley Adams and her new tongue piercing out of his mind.

It was a little silver stud in the middle of her tongue.

She was still getting used to pronouncing words around it. Little pools of saliva would form at the corners of her mouth and she would open her jaw and use her fingers to clear her lips. She had the most perfect white teeth. Occasionally he saw little flashes of sliver as she spoke, or heard the soft clatter of jewelry on tooth.

The thought of that cold steel ball rubbing against his flesh made his cock throb.

Don sighed and glanced around the empty bathroom.

He knew way more than he should have about Marley’s sex life. She’d gone through school with his son and was always the tallest student in the class. Pretty soon she grew into an attractive young woman with wide hips and a big meaty ass. For as long as he could remember, he’d always told her what a big girl she was, and then one day her father pulled Don aside and said Marley felt self-conscious about her size. It made perfect sense. She was the biggest girl, and always a bit uncoordinated. Once she’d fallen off her starting block at a championship swim event, even as all the other swimmers stood tensed at the ready. Marley wasn’t always in control of that big, beautiful body of hers, but she was doing her best to meet its demands. What Don knew about her sex life, he could never share with her father.

Don knew, for example, that last summer she had begun sleeping with girls.

He knew that she had all but declared herself lesbian, and then one night had a threesome with two boys. It happened in the back seat of an old Chevy Nomad he was restoring and was the main reason he knew so much about her sexual activities.

He knew that during the threesome both boys came in her mouth.

He knew Marley swallowed both “deposits.”

He knew she liked the taste of cum.

Don stroked his cock. It was fully erect now and already had a little bit of pre-cum welling at the tip. Marley had told him she’d just started working at her father’s hardware store. Don pictured her small breasts under the little green vest all the employees wore.

Her nameplate read: “Hi! My name is Marley. How can I help you?”

He stepped closer to the urinal.

You can let me come in your pretty little mouth.

He pictured her dabbing the moisture from the corners of her mouth. He liked the way she grinned, sticking out her pink tongue, touching it to her upper lip. He liked catching the glint of wet metal in her mouth.

Suddenly the bathroom door burst open.

Don gripped his cock, feeling the hot sting of shame. He stepped even closer to the urinal, the head of his hard dick mashing into the back of the porcelain fixture. It was wet and cold. He instantly drew his hips back, using his hand to shield his erection.

Denver stood at the door.

Her eyes were wide, her back against the door. Her chest heaved once. Their eyes met and she recognized him. She broke eye contact, glanced over her shoulder, then bit her lip and marched past him into one of the stalls.

The stall lock rattled into place.

Don exhaled. He’d been holding his breath.

His cock had softened, and he used his palm to wipe the moisture from the head, wincing at the thought of his beautiful penis touching the wet fixture. He looked over his shoulder at the closed stall door. He looked at his cock.

The door burst open again.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman with a round face and a bulky utility belt strapped to her waist. She wore a mall security uniform and huffed with exertion. Averting her eyes, she held her position in the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said.

Don gripped the valve atop the urinal, looking into the basin.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, taking a deep breath.

Don did not look up.

“Did someone just come in here?”

A faucet dripped. “A young girl?”

Don silently spat into the urinal.

“Sir,” she said.

He took a deep breath, then looked toward the door. “This is the men’s room,” he hissed.

He blew the air from his lungs. He did not break eye contact. His urine came. He took a step back. It was a heavy, satisfying stream.

It rang into the tiled quiet of the room.

The guard backed into the mall, holding the door open. Her eyes darted about, her cheeks reddening. Don narrowed his eyes, his cock growing thick and heavy in his hand.

“What?” he snapped.

The heavy door swung close with a soft hydraulic sigh.


Half an hour later Denver ordered the breakfast special. Don got coffee for himself and then called his wife to say he’d be late. Denver wore no makeup. Her fingernails were bitten to the quick. When the food arrived, she tore into the bacon as if she hadn’t eaten in a long time. Wiping grease from her lips with the back of her hand, she said she’d given up on the Tuesday night AA meeting because Margie and the others were just a bunch of cranky old women.

Don chuckled.

A waitress appeared and filled his cup. He smiled at her. He came here a lot.

Denver finished her meal. She pushed her plate forward, sank back into the booth, and sighed. She ordered tea.

The waitress left them alone.

“So what’d you get?” Don asked.

She raised her brows, acting coy.

He smiled, raising his chin.

She cut her eyes away from him and smirked. Reaching into the waistband of her jeans, she pulled out a phone. A mischievous smile spread across her face. Don made his eyes go big. She pulled two more phones from places secreted in her pants and clattered them all into a small pile on the table.

“Damn,” Don said. He sipped his coffee.

Denver grinned.

“You got talent,” he said. Her face glowed with satisfaction just as knew it would. Girls like Denver thrived on approval, especially from a man. “You still with your boyfriend?”

The question caught her off guard and she squirmed.

The waitress returned with hot tea.

Denver stirred her drink, the spoon softly clanging the sides of the ceramic mug. When the waitress retreated, Denver whispered that she’d done heroin with a syringe for the first time. She meant to shock him. Don dutifully widened his eyes, nodded his head.

“Do you have a sexual relationship with him?” Don asked. He looked right into her face and she turned her head. She was guarding something, but it was hard to say what.

There was only the sound of the busy restaurant all around them.

“No,” she finally whispered. She hung her head. “I steal for him because I’m good at it.”

Don took a deep breath. “How old are you?” he asked.

She stopped stirring her tea. “Twenty-two,” she said.

“That’s a felony,” Don said, indicating the stack of phones. “And you got priors? Five to seven years in Dawson.”

She lowered her eyes.

“My boyfriend wants me to stop stealing, too.”

Don narrowed his eyes. “And you’re not in a sexual relationship with him?” he asked.

She looked uncomfortable. Putting her elbows on the table, she hunched forward and held her head in her hands. She darted her eyes around the room, then looked in his face. With her limbs all twisted around her head, she didn’t look twenty-two.

“We do some stuff,” she whispered. “But it’s not sex.”

Don smiled.

Her face reddened.

Raising his brows, he shrugged and made a gesture with his hands for more information.

She sat up in the booth and toyed with her cuticles. Hunching forward, she crushed her small breasts against the table. He could see down her shirt.

She silently mouthed the words “blow job”.

Don laughed.

Her face was completely red but she was grinning and looked relieved.

“It’s not sex,” she whispered, sitting back in her seat, “so it doesn’t count.”

She was in over her head. She’d been sucking this guy’s cock for who knew how long, and he was filling her head with nonsense even as he was filling her with semen. Who knew what he was after? Certainly nothing good. Any reasonable adult would’ve advised her to drop the man. Surely Margie suggested it.

“Did he tell you to say that?” Don asked.

“No,” Denver said.

Don put his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, and grinned. She was a bad liar.

“Yes,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

She hung her head.

“He’s just showing me how to do it, so even if it is sex, it’s not like it really counts.”

Her voice was just a squeak and filled with shame, her eyes welling with tears. This was the thing she was hiding. She was blowing him, but it wasn’t an intimate relationship. Her boyfriend refused to fuck her.

“Has he asked you to give his friends head?”

Her head shot up, her mouth open.

Her whole demeanor suddenly changed: the shame disappeared, replaced with something else, something harder to describe, an earthy rawness. Closing her mouth, she squirmed in her seat and looked around the diner. Her nipples poked into the fabric of her shirt, and her neck and ears flushed red. She took a deep breath and then blew it out in a long shuddery exhale.

“He…” she said. Her voice was thick and she had to pause and clear her throat. She covered her mouth, then let her fingers wander down over her shallow cleavage. “He wouldn’t do that,” she said.

“He wouldn’t?” Don asked, incredulous.

She made a nervous laugh, avoiding his eyes. He absolutely would. Her hand played over the front of her shirt.

The booth began to tremble. She was rocking her hips. She wanted to suck those boys’ cocks.

Don leaned his head toward hers.

He used his finger to raise her chin and looked her right in the eyes. “You,” he said, lowering his voice. “Have a hungry pussy.”

Her eyes widened.

“And you have to learn how to feed your pussy, so your pussy doesn’t get you in trouble.”

She closed her mouth and averted her eyes.

“He’s grooming you to be his whore.”

Denver made a little mewling sound in her throat at the word whore. The booth stopped moving and she removed her hands from the table and put them in her lap.

“What?” Her tone said shock, but her expression said otherwise. She was absolutely beaming.

“First he’ll ask you to suck his friends’ cocks,” Don said. “Doesn’t count, right?”

Her grin dried up. “It doesn’t,” she mumbled.

“Then he’ll put you on a street in a nearby city,” he said. “Those won’t count either.”

“No,” she laughed. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Don pursed his lips.

“That’s why he wants you to stop stealing.” Don nodded to the small stack of phones. “Your pussy is worth more.”

Denver toyed with her hair, hiding her face.

The booth started to quiver again. Fucking kid was incorrigible.

Don glanced around the diner, then slipped into the opposite bench next to the young girl. He put his hand on the back of her neck, his lips near her ear. Slipping his hand into her lap, he cupped her pussy, and gave it a lusty squeeze. Her crotch was hot, moist.

Denver sucked in her breath. She closed her thighs on his hand and rocked her hips.

“There are safer ways to feed your pussy,” he whispered.

She quietly groaned.

He looked around the diner, then slipped the tip of his tongue into her ear.

Her hips stopped churning, her thighs clamped hard. She made soft whimpering noises.

He gave her a minute to finish, then let go of her neck.

He pulled his hand from her cunt.

She was flushed, breathing hard. Picking up her spoon, her hand shook. The utensil made a weak tapping noise on the ceramic mug.

Don slid out of the booth, his cock hard. He would have to jack off in the truck.

She took a deep breath. Looked up at him. She had needy eyes.

He jotted his phone number on a slip of paper and slid it toward her. Dropping a few bills on the table, he told her to call if she ever wanted to get sober.



The call came in the middle of the night. Don missed it.

His phone had been sitting on the nightstand, on mute. It wasn’t actually a phone call, but a text message. And not just one text, but a series of them, each with its own picture attached. Denver, her eyes lidded and heavy, kissing the head of a cock. Denver, twisting her head to look into the camera, a fat cock distending her cheek. Denver, a veiny cock in her hand, her chin up, eyes on the guy whose cock she was sucking. Denver, cum on her chin, staring into the lens with those desperate, needy, little girl eyes.

What could he do? The next day Don drove into the parking lot of the McDonald’s on Route 22. Denver’s car was parked out back.

He ordered fries, a cheeseburger, and coffee. He took his plastic tray of food into the back of the store and sat in the deserted indoor play area. Slipping into one of the plastic chairs, he opened his newspaper. He sipped his coffee and let his food go cold.

He could still see those pictures in his mind’s eye. It was definitely more than one guy. He wondered how many boys had used her mouth.

“Hey,” Denver slipped into the seat across from him.

Her face looked haggard.

She was a slim girl, but it looked like she’d lost more weight in the few weeks since he’d seen her last. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Came to find you,” he said, folding his paper and setting it aside.

He slid his phone across the table in front of her.

She glanced down and saw a picture of herself with a cock in her mouth. She gasped and scooped up the phone. She furtively looked around the play space area, then returned her attention to the phone, flipping through the pictures with her finger.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

She got to the photo of herself with the semen on her face and shut her eyes. “Fuck,” she said. She mouthed the word deliberately and it came out low and desperate. Her eyes stayed shut and she whimpered, making her shoulders shake.

Her eyes flashed open.

“I didn’t send you these,” she whispered. “I don’t . . .

She shook her head. “I don’t . . .

“I don’t . . .”

She blustered about at a loss for words and then flipped through the images again shaking her head. They were pictures of her, sent from her own phone, but decorum required her to deny she’d sent them. Don understood the rule and accepted it.

It didn’t matter. It was a cry for help and those came in all manner, shapes and sizes.

“Are you sober?” he asked.

She looked up from the phone, her brows furrowed as if she didn’t understand.

He met her gaze and held it, searching her eyes. This was the answer that mattered.

“No,” she said. She sighed and turned away. “No, I’m not.”

He sat back in his seat and grinned. Honesty was essential, but success wasn’t. She gave an honest answer and that was all that mattered. “It’s okay,” he said.

She pressed his phone into her chest, meeting his gaze.

“There’s no shame in falling off the wagon,” he said. “It’s happened to all of us.” He smiled at her with confidence. “You can delete those if you want,” he said, indicating his phone.

She sighed with relief, then quickly got to work on his phone. He began gathering information from her. She was still with her boyfriend, Jigsaw, and the men in those pictures were his friends. Jigsaw took her to a house party and made out with her in a crowded room. He asked her to give him head, in front of everyone, and when she finished, he gave her to one of his friends. And when she finished his friend, he gave her to another and then another. She snorted heroin and drank. Blacked out and found herself in her car the next morning.

She slid the phone back to Don. “You were right,” she said, lowering her head.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

Her head snapped front, eyes blazing. She looked as if she were about to say something mean, but then she shook her head, blew air from her mouth, and stood. “I have to get back to work,” she said.

He took her wrist in his hand. She tried to pull away but he held her fast.

“Your pussy,” he hissed, standing and taking her shoulders in his hands. He waited for her to meet his eyes, and when she finally did, he found a fire raging there. He looked around the restaurant. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Your pussy is going to earn you a jackpot you don’t want to win.”

She snorted. The fire in her eyes dissolved as quickly as it appeared. She lowered her head to hide her grin. He let go of her shoulders and put his fists on his hips.

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch,” she said.

“I am,” he said. “But that don’t make no difference.” He folded his arms. “You got a hungry pussy. Until you can accept it, you’re going to have a difficult time staying sober.”

She turned and marched out of the play area without looking back. He watched her tight little ass until she disappeared behind the counter. He picked up his phone. Collecting his uneaten food, he carried the tray to the door and tossed the food in the trash.

As he backed his truck from the parking spot, he heard a dull thump from the rear quarter panel. He stopped the vehicle, took it out of gear, and rolled down the window. Denver stood at the door. A hot breeze almost took her paper cap from her head, but she put her hand on it.

“I liked it,” she said.

Her voice was just a squeak. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She took the cap from her head and held it in both her hands, the wind tossing her hair.

“I like the attention, the excitement. I like the taste. I like the feeling I get in my stomach just before we go, like butterflies and a hot drink on a cool summer night.”

She pushed her hair from her face and rubbed the heel of her palm in her eye. “I like being wrong, wrong, so wrong. It’s like being in high school, stealing one of those little bottles of wine, drinking it in the alley behind the store, and then smashing the fucking bottle on the sidewalk.” She snorted laughter, then sniffed loudly.

He looked at her hard. She was crying. Her cap was crumpled in her fists.

“You know what I don’t like?” She met his eyes. There was a quiet desperation there.

She pounded her fist on the door. “Why won’t he be with me?”

Her voice rose to a shriek with the last few words.

“Why, why?” She stomped her foot. “What am I? Am I like, what? What?”

She put her knee into the side of the door.

“Hey, hey, hey—” Don said sharply.

Her eyes were filled with an earnest longing. She wanted an answer, but Don didn’t have one. No one had an answer she wanted to hear.

“Why won’t he . . .”

“Hey,” he said again, this time more softly.

He touched her hand and shrugged. “We can’t do anything about him.”

She pursed her lips and looked back to the restaurant.

“But we can do something about you.”

Her shoulders slumped forward. Raising herself from the door, she took a deep breath, then blew it out. Turning her back to the wind, she dried her face with her forearm.

She looked at him.

He talked her down. He spoke confidently and with warmth.

He found out when her shift was over and gave her an address and a time to meet him later that night. He’d told her there was nothing they could do about Jigsaw, but that was a lie. Someone had to do something about Jigsaw, and it had to be done soon. She was very close now, almost gone. If someone didn’t put the brakes on the thing with her boyfriend, she would end up in a truck stop out on the turnpike, sucking cocks in a sleeper cab. Or maybe she’d find herself, knees up, in the backseat of a parked car in some industrial area, accepting the thrusts of middle-aged johns.


Don sat in his truck.

His belly fluttered with nerves. He knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t sure he could do it. If he didn’t, he understood no one else would.

He checked the time on the dash.

Sliding his phone from his pocket, he wished Denver hadn’t deleted her photos. He conjured an image of her with a cock in her mouth. His own cock swelling, he punched in his wife’s number. When she answered, he told her he’d be home late. He explained he’d be working with a new person. He almost said “new guy,” but he caught himself at the last second.

That would’ve been a lie.

She asked him to bring home a few things from the store and he rooted in his glove box for a scrap of paper and a pen. He made a note. Denver pulled up, and he told his wife he loved her and said goodbye.

He waved Denver over and powered down his phone. She climbed into the truck. They were in a dodgy part of town and she looked around warily. As soon as she closed the door, he launched into his spiel. “Step one,” he said, holding up his index finger.

“Says we’re powerless.”

The wary expression Denver wore faded and she just looked bored.

Don grinned.

“We can’t do anything about being alcoholic, but we can keep ourselves out of the bar.”

She stifled a yawn.

“You can’t do anything about how poorly Jigsaw treats you but . . .”

She turned in her seat. He had her full attention.

“You can change yourself.”

“How?” she asked.

“Body piercing.”

Denver blinked.

She looked confused for a beat, and then she snorted a laugh.

“Really?” she asked, her face breaking into a grin.

He grinned. He nodded to a dilapidated building across the street. The Hole. It had iron bars on the windows and one of its neon signs read TATTOO.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” she laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s like when an astronaut or an explorer arrives somewhere special and the first thing they do is plant the flag.”

She nodded and looked toward The Hole.

“So I’m claiming myself . . .”  She let her voice trail off.

She looked at him.

“For myself?”

He smiled. She was smart.

He offered to pay for the piercing, the jewelry and any ancillary costs.

“What kind?” she said. “I’ve always wanted a bellybutton piercing.”

Don inhaled.

He looked at her squarely. He raised his hand to her chin, but stopped just before he touched her face.

She looked at his hand, then met his eyes. She swallowed.

He took her chin with just the tip of his finger. He raised her head, just a tiny bit. The image of her with a boy’s cock in her mouth popped into his mind. He took her chin between his index finger and thumb. A look of fear appeared in her eyes. It was like she could see into his mind, like she knew what he was thinking.

He moved his head closer to hers.

She parted her lips, lowered her eyelids.

“Tongue,” he said, his voice thick. It had to be the tongue. It would take a few weeks to heal, maybe buying her some time with Jigsaw.

Her head was tilted, her mouth open just a bit. Her breath came out soft, like a sigh.

He let go of her chin.

She opened her eyes and a grin spread slowly across his face. She turned her head, then stole a shy glance at him.

He smiled, eyes still locked on her. He waited.

He told himself he could do this. He had to. There was no other choice. Denver was a great kid and she deserved a chance.

“Okay,” she squeaked in a tiny voice. “Yeah, tongue.”

He laughed and beat a little riff on the steering wheel with his thumbs. Opening his door, he said they should go check out the jewelry. Get her something nice.

His cock was hard.


Don put his hand on the small of Denver’s back and herded her through the door into a cramped retail space. It’d been years since he’d been in The Hole. There were no other patrons in sight. An open arch in the wall lead to the bar next door where loud music played and multicolored lights flashed and throbbed.

From behind the counter, Moon grinned. “What the fuck!” he boomed.

Moon was a large man with a full beard, a rugged face, and tattoos covering both his forearms. Despite the grin on his face, he looked menacing. He chatted with Don the way old friends do, and then turned his attention to Denver. His eyes quickly swept over her, head to toe.

Denver folded her arms across her chest and took a step back.

Don was right behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Denver wants to get her tongue pierced,” he said. “Is Julio around?”

Moon rooted under the counter. He stood with a book in his hand and then scrutinized its pages. He said he would need another hour. At least an hour. He invited them to come back or wait in the bar, then he buried his nose in the book again, flipping from page to page. The music pulsed next door, the lights danced. Denver inched back towards Don. She looked up and he winked, letting his hands drop from her shoulders to her arms.

“Or you can wait in back,” Moon mumbled. He didn’t look up.

“Thanks,” Don said, hustling Denver forward.

They got to the back of the store and started down a narrow hallway with doors on either side. Suddenly a shriek cut through the store, followed by a chorus of laughter.

Denver stopped, alarmed.

“Piercing,” Don said. “It’s okay if you yell. Everyone does it.”

He gave her a little push to get her started down the hall again.

There was more laughter.

At the end of the hall, Don opened one of the doors and gestured for Denver to enter. One of the doors on the other side of the hall opened and out came a woman with long shapely legs, followed by a man in a shirt and tie. The woman didn’t glance at Don or Denver, but the man gave them both sheepish look.

Don crowded Denver into the room and flipped on the light. It was a small room dominated by a large bed and a mirror. Don pulled the door shut and the latch made a loud click. His mouth was dry with fear.

“I, I, don’t think I should be in here,” Denver said.

Don put a hand on her shoulder, closing the small distance between them.

“You need to be here, Denver.”

Denver twisted away from him, reaching for the doorknob. He caught her by the biceps, stood her up straight, and then squared his shoulders with her. “Listen to me,” he said. “Just hear me out.”

Denver set her chin. She flared her nostrils, her lips pursed.

“You’re a good-looking woman,” Don said. “And you deserve a satisfying relationship, a relationship with someone who wants to be with you.”

Denver gasped. “Stop,” she said, twisting her head away as if she’d been slapped. It was her shame wound and he was fingering it.

“I know it’s hard to hear, but you need to pay attention. We’re talking about your life!”

She stopped struggling and turned to look into his face, drawing her brows together.

“I want to fuck you, Denver. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first night I saw you.”

“Oh my God,” she squeaked.

He let go of her arms and put his hand in the small of her back, pulling her to him. His hard cock rubbed against her hip, and he grabbed a handful of her firm ass. A soft groan came from somewhere deep in her chest. “And I am going to fuck you, Denver,” He whispered. “I’m going to fuck you right here, right now. And when I’m done fucking you, I’m going to drop a big load of cum in your hungry pussy.”

She mewled, jerking her hips back.

He took her by the back of her neck and kissed her hard. Her mouth tasted fresh and clean, her hair silky and soft on the back of his hand. He thrust his tongue into her warm mouth. She put her hand on his throat, her thumb pressing against his Adam’s apple. Popping the button on her pants, he plunged his hand into her panties and found her pussy wet. He stroked those sloppy folds. Her thumb stopped pressing against his throat. He licked her teeth, exploring her whole mouth with his tongue. Her tongue tentatively played with his, and soon she molded her body against his, moaning into his mouth.

He broke their kiss and nibbled her neck. “You’re wet,” he said with pride.

He laughed. Picking her up bodily, he took the few steps toward the bed and dumped her on it. She bounced with a yelp, and he yanked her pants down to her ankles and left them there. She wore tiny bikini panties that barely covered a thick, natural bush. She tried to scoot to the other side of the bed but couldn’t get her heels to purchase. He dropped down next to her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. He kissed her again, wet and sloppy.

She whimpered into his mouth.

He pulled her panties down, and the fabric gave, making a ripping noise. He tossed them on the floor. She clamped her knees together, but he forced four fingers between her thighs until his palm cupped her hairy, wet bush. Using the heel of his palm and thumb, he massaged the ridge at the top of her slit. Soon she opened her knees, gyrating her hips.

He stroked her cunt, dipping his finger into her. Using her secretions to oil her clit, he made her breath heavy. She made tiny grunting noises. Rolling his weight off her, he took a fistful of her hair. He opened his fly. His cockhead was swollen and glistening with juice. He moved her head towards it. “I think you know what to do here, Denver,” he said.

Tensing the muscles in her neck, she tried to resist but was no match for his superior strength. “Please,” she whimpered. “I have a boyfriend.”

He stopped.

“Do you think he’ll mind?” he asked, thrusting out his chin.

She craned her head around to meet his eyes. She knew the answer. They both did.

“We won’t count this one,” he said.

He shoved her face into his groin, rubbing the head of his cock on her lips. “Open up,” he said.

She opened her mouth and took his cock inside.

It was magnificently warm and wet, and she sat for a minute with her head in his lap before obediently setting herself to the task at hand. She moved her head, letting her tongue play over his swollen glans. Cupping his balls with one hand, she stroked his shaft with the other. Soon sloppy wet noises came from her mouth.

His balls began to contract and rise, but Don didn’t want to come.

Taking her head in his hands, he crammed his cock to the back of her mouth. The pain of having his cock stuffed into her mouth helped him gain control. Denver mewled, twisting to accommodate him. He was testing her limits. Thrusting his hips forward, he jockeyed for a tighter fit. She beat her fists on his thighs and slid to the floor, scissoring her legs. She moved with such vigor that her foot popped out of the leg hole of her pants, shoe and all.

He let go of her head.

She gasped for breath on the floor between his legs. Saliva hung from her mouth, a few strands still connected to his slick cock. Wiping her mouth with the heel of her hand, she looked at him like a wild animal.

“That’s enough of that,” he said.

Taking her shirttails in both hands, he yanked it over her head and she squealed. It was a button down shirt, not meant to be removed that way, so she ended up on her feet, wearing only her frilly white bra and shoes.

Tugging her bra up, he asked: “What do we have in here?”

Her breasts were small but firm, the nipples erect. He put his teeth on one, holding her slim waist. She grabbed his head with both hands and gasped.

He reached around behind her to unfasten and discard her bra.

Denver stumbled backwards until she found the bed and could sit, Don still mouthing her nipple. She let his head go and he stood.

She was looking at him with those needy, little girl eyes, and a great surge of emotion rose up in his heart. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently laid her on her back. Taking her foot in his hand, he popped off one shoe, then the other.

He freed her ankle from her pants and tossed them on the floor.

She watched as he removed his shirt, wearing an expression that was hard to read.

“For a girl still taking lessons, you’re one hell of a cocksucker.”

He meant it half as a joke, half as a compliment. She didn’t smile. Her face didn’t glow with satisfaction. He couldn’t be sure if that was a good sign or bad.

He lowered his pants. His cock hung between them, pointed at her.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said.

He climbed on top of her. Reaching between his legs, he rubbed his cock over the slippery folds of her pussy. “If you’re a good girl,” he said, “I’ll give you the fucking of your life.”

He slipped the tip of his cock into her wet pussy. Pulling out, he rubbed the head of his cock on her lips, lubricating her. He did this a few times, then plunged his cock into her past the head. She blew air from her lungs.

She was tight.

He gave her a minute to get used to the cock.

“I’ll be good,” she whispered.

He went deeper.

There was resistance.

She gasped and grabbed his biceps.

He pushed and she squirmed beneath him.

“Oh shit,” she said.

He raised his hips and then sank himself into her all the way to the balls.

She squealed, her hands gripping the sheets. He paused, holding her shoulders. She was much smaller physically, but strong. She bucked her hips, making him rise. He put his head near her ear and whispered, “This one counts.”

She groaned, latching onto him with both her legs and arms.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Oh God.”

Her reaction triggered something in him. Raising her ankles over his shoulders, he folded her in half and sank his cock into her. She flailed her legs and moaned. She swung her arms, clawing at his shoulders and back. Each stroke elicited a little moan, or a shriek of joy from her. She stopped using language, reduced to making animal noises. The only sounds that came from him were soft grunts, the slapping noise his flanks made against her thighs.

Wet sucking noises came from her pussy.

Her eyes were half shut in ecstasy, head rolling from side to side.

“St-, st-, stop,” she huffed.

It was hard to make out what she said.

“Stop,” she said. This time her intention was clear.

He stopped. “Really?” he asked.

He was kneeling between her splayed legs, a slick sheen of sweat on his chest. Her shoulders were pressed into the mattress. He made tiny movements with his hips, letting his cock tease her hole. Her mouth was open. She was breathing heavy.

She closed her mouth. Turning her head to avoid his eyes, she began rocking her hips.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

Putting his hand on her throat, he resumed his thrusts. Her orgasm came all in a rush. She screamed and thrashed and called out to God, and he rode her until she dug her heels into the mattress and threw her hips high. When she collapsed, they came apart. He strummed her clit, but it was too much for her. She yelped and turned onto her stomach, tugging her one knee high.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.”

Her coloring was bright red. Damp hair clung to her forehead. She reached out to him with her hand, opening and closing her fist, as if she wanted him to hold hands.

He snorted. “It’s not over yet,” he said.

He put her on her knees and pressed her head into the mattress. Slipping his other hand between her legs, he raised her bottom high.

His finger accidently stroked her asshole and she cut her eyes to him. He registered her alarm but didn’t comfort her. He wasn’t going to fuck her ass.

He mounted her from behind. His cock slipped easily into her wet hole. He held her hips and pumped her. She craned her head to watch. He slapped her ass. Hard. She shrieked and he slapped her again in the same place. She wailed even louder. He kept up the slaps and the strokes until her ass was a rosy red. She clutched the sheets in her fists, threw her head back and came again. Her eyes were screwed shut and she pounded her fists on the mattress.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” she hissed.

He grunted and pumped, holding her hips in his hands. He huffed and pushed, like some railroad laborer. He gritted his teeth.

She stole frightened looks at him. It looked like she wanted to say something, but no words came from her mouth.

The muscles in his shoulders and arms glistened.

Finally. He shoved himself into her and stood stock still, muscles tensed. She lowered her head and made herself ready to receive his semen.

He came. He exhaled as the hot cum jetted deep into her wet hole.

He used the muscles in his abdomen and his ass cheeks to drain himself into her. She needed the whole load, every drop. Using his thumb, he stroked the knobs of her spine with a feather touch. Soon he had nothing left to give her. She took it all.

“This one counts, too,” he whispered.


Don dressed quickly, his back to Denver. He’d done it. He’d done his part. It didn’t go exactly as he’d planned, but then these things never did. He turned and she was dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She smiled shyly, averting her eyes.

He got her a glass of water.

She reached for it, but there was something in her hand. It was her ruined panties. She blushed and stuffed them in her pocket.

“Sorry about those,” he said.

She grinned sheepishly and shrugged her shoulder.

She gulped her water down and he got her more. He handed her the second glass. “This stays between us, right?” he said.

He stood with his hands on his hips. She drank her water. Wiping her mouth with the heel of her hand, she nodded.

He needed more. He sat next to her on the bed.

“Right?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

She nodded.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Our secret.”

He grinned.

She moved her hips closer to him.

Smiling into his eyes, she moved her head forward hesitantly, then jerked to a stop. She met his eyes. It was awkward. Did she want a kiss? She moved her head until her cheek came to rest on his chest. She nuzzled her cheek against him.

His ears went hot. He swallowed hard. He raised his hands, but then let them hang in the air.

He wasn’t sure if he should stroke her head or push her to the floor.

“Does this mean I should break up with Jigsaw?” Denver asked. It was the last thing he expected to hear from her mouth.

Don stood, all in a rush. “Don’t do that,” he snapped.

Denver looked confused. Hurt.

He grinned, trying to walk back his tone.

“Look,” he said.

He remembered to smile. How does a girl with such a hungry pussy act so dick-whipped?

She tilted her head.

He ran his hand through his hair. Suddenly he noticed she’d stripped the bed. She was sitting on the pile of sheets. He narrowed his eyes.

She saw him spot the sheets and grew embarrassed. Trying to hide the sheets, she changed her position on the bed.

“What happened here?” he asked.

Tugging at the sheets, he found dark stains. Blood. Not a lot, but enough.

Her cheeks went suddenly pink. She hid her eyes with her hand.

He sat next to Denver and put his arm around her.

He laughed.

“A virgin?” he asked. It explained so much.

He rubbed her back and Denver stared at a spot on the floor.

“Listen,” he said. “You can break up with whomever you like.”

She cut her eyes toward him.

“But you’re new in recovery and it’s suggested you don’t make any big changes for the first year. A break up is big. A relationship is big. If you come in with a man, you stay with the man. If you come in single, you stay single.”

She lowered her head.

If she left Jigsaw after her first good fucking, she would just go back to him once the pink cloud evaporated and reality set in. Denver needed a more permanent solution. She needed to learn how to roll with life. She needed to learn to feed her pussy.

“Does he beat you?” Don asked.

Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him.

Don grinned.

It was a good sign. She would allow Jigsaw to use her sexually, but she drew the line at taking a beating from him. He was a potent threat, but not an imminent one.

“Come on,” Don said. “Let’s get you some jewelry for your tongue.”

He reached for her shoulder with his fingertips, but she shrugged his hand off. “You don’t want to be with me either,” she said. She pouted her lip.

“Nonsense,” he said. “I’m your new sponsor.”

“Really?” She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

He grinned.

“Keep it between you and me,” he murmured, “just like the other.”

She took the piercing like a real champ. It turned him on to watch Julio hold her tongue out with the clamp. His mind kept returning to the image of her big hairy snatch, packed into those tiny panties. In the excitement, some of the buttons must have popped off her shirt. She held it together to keep from exposing her bra, her cleavage. Sometimes she needed both hands, though, so occasionally she found herself a little exposed.

Julio noticed but pretended he didn’t.

Moon noticed but didn’t possess Julio’s tact. He gave Don smug, knowing grins. He looked at Denver hungrily.

For his part, Don felt a great sense of responsibility for Denver. He felt protective of her. Maybe even overprotective. He ignored Moon and walked her to her car. Before she drove off, she stuck her head out of the window. There were big salty tears in her eyes. She thanked him for being her sponsor. She thanked him for her new jewelry.

She thanked him for everything. All of it.

He grinned. He assured her that it was he who should be thanking her, that he had never sponsored anyone who hadn’t taught him a boatload about himself. It was the AA way.

It was true.

He watched her drive off. He saluted her with two fingers.

Reaching in his pocket, he powered on his phone.

There were those few things he promised to get his wife from the store. He would have to go past the gym, shower off the smell of sweat, pussy and cum. He could do it.

It was all within his range.

His mind jumped ahead. Denver was a newcomer. For the next few weeks, she would need all of his attention and then some. He’d somehow gotten her through the first step without his wife or any of the others from the Tuesday Night AA meeting figuring out what he was up to.

If she were going to make it, though, if she were going to have a chance at life, he would need to get her through the next 11 steps. He took a deep breath.

His cock rose in his pants.

© 2015 Huck Pilgrim. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

About the Author: Huck Pilgrim is the pseudonym of a minor author, who craves readers, and doesn’t mind working hard on his books. He is a father and a husband and enjoys spending time with his family, writing, and watching movies. You can find him at

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