A FEW MONTHS ago, Mandy showed up at the Tuesday night AA meeting in need of support. Don Manley "unofficially" took her under his wing. That meant he was taking her to a secluded spot in his truck and balling her after the meetings. He couldn't let any of the other AAs know he was working with her this way, because none of them would approve. Don's help was all unsanctioned.
Mandy had thin blonde hair and strong Nordic facial features. She was nineteen. A lip biter. She often wore a vacant expression on her face, as if she'd just woken up from a deep sleep or smoked a bunch of pot.
Don found that empty look intoxicating.
As far as support went, Mandy didn't really need a lot. She just wanted to get some things off her chest. She needed someone to listen to her. Someone who wouldn't judge. Don's many years in AA had prepared him for just such an exchange. He had a sympathetic face, a tight sinewy body.
He was older than Mandy, and he was married, but that didn't matter. Mandy was a newcomer, and that made her the most important person at the meeting. Besides, Don liked working with the newcomers.
Especially the girls.
So.
Late on Tuesday nights, after the meeting, Don would take Mandy up into the low hills behind Carnal and slip his cock into her. He quickly became the one person in her life who accepted her for who she was. In return, she offered him unfiltered access to her innermost thoughts and deeds.
In AA, you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to succeed.
Mandy was game!
***
THAT FIRST NIGHT Mandy came to the meeting, she stood at the back of the room. She wouldn't look at anyone, wouldn't speak. After the meeting ended, she avoided all the women, a real task since the women always made a point to reach out to the new girls. But Mandy had nothing to say to a woman. What Mandy had to say was only for a man. She wore her light honey-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a too-tight tank top stretched across ample breasts, and her midriff exposed. She stood off by herself in the parking lot chain-smoking cigarettes until most of the others were gone.
Don nodded goodnight to her and she made a beeline toward him.
"Have you ever done anything," she whispered, her voice thick with uncertainty and a touch of desperation. "And then later felt sorry you'd done it?" She looked up at him, her eyes a startling shade of blue. She looked terrified. Innocent. She had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
Don grinned. "Many times," he assured her.
She looked relieved and shoved her hands into her back pockets.
That first confession dribbled out of her in fits and starts. Poor thing had gotten drunk and discovered a little sexpot burning inside herself. It was a typical story. Her boyfriend took her to a nightclub and they fought. He stormed out, and his roommate insisted on buying her a drink. He said she could take care of him later. They danced until they were both hot and sweaty. When the band took a break, he invited her into the bathroom, telling her she could even up her tab.
Mandy fell silent, a sheepish smile on her face.
"It's okay," Don murmured. He knew all about self-indulgence.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her smile turning mischievous. Her thighs were packed into those jeans, a hint of belly fat rolled over the waistband.
She took a deep breath.
The roommate had locked the bathroom door and put his hands all over her. She liked it. Enjoyed having his hands on her boobs, her bottom, and the wet place between her legs. She used the words 'boobs' and 'bottom' but just wordlessly pointed to her crotch to indicate the other. She looked uncomfortable saying all this, and Don couldn't be sure if it was the idea that she enjoyed those touches that made her feel bad, or if confessing to him in the parking lot was making her uncomfortable. Her face flushed, her impish smile dried up. Don found himself staring at her cleavage, wondering how it would be to heft those big tits in his palms. Raising his eyes, he smiled at her. She bit her lip, ignoring where his eyes had just been.
"We've all done it," he said.
"I sucked it," she blurted, her eyes big and round. "I don't know—I, I felt like I had to."
Don nodded his head sympathetically, his cock swelling. Meanwhile, she said, someone had begun pounding on the bathroom door. She wanted to go somewhere else and finish up, but before she could suggest this or even take the cock from her mouth, the roommate grabbed her head and gave her his cream.
She fumbled with her cigarettes. Her hands shook as she used the lighter.
Don smiled, shrugged. "You took care of your tab," he said.
She laughed, smoke curling out of her mouth.
He laughed too. They both needed to laugh. His cock was rock hard. She hugged her arms across her chest, her nipples poking through the fabric of her top. Don was about to launch into his own story about infidelity, but then she cut him off.
She wasn't finished!
A good-looking black guy had found his way into the bathroom and started flirting with her. The roommate got hostile, which made her angry. No man owned her, she said. Clutching her arms, she set her jaw. Her mood changed. She was using her anger to pump herself up to say something. This was why she'd come to the meeting. This was what she wanted to confess.
"Black guys?" she finally said, squinting up at Don.
He raised his brow.
"They all . . .
"They have . . . "
Her cheeks flamed red, and she lowered her head. "Really big cocks," she whispered. Biting her lip, she met his eyes, a hopeful expression on her young face.
Don chuckled.
She'd had a few black guys and now she felt conflicted. It might have been the cheating, the sleazy sex, or maybe even mixing races. Hell, for all Don knew, it could have been a little bit of everything or something else entirely. It really didn't matter to him. The important thing was Mandy wanted help sorting through her feelings.
"You got a big story," Don said. It was his gentle way of telling her she was a slut. More to the point, he was letting her know that
he
knew she was a slut, and that it was okay for her to be a slut.
He would accept that from her.
She nodded her head, tears welling in her eyes. She was only nineteen and needed someone to confide in. Someone who was strong and wouldn't judge her. He told her it was good for her to talk, to get it all off her chest, but there was a better way for them to get through it.
She meekly nodded her head.
That was when Don decided to help her, to really commit to her. People tend to go in the direction they're headed. With Mandy, that would mean getting drunk and fucking a lot more men. You always want what you can't have. And for this adorable little teen, that would mean dozens of emotionally-unavailable men riding her pussy and creaming in her mouth. Her self-esteem would plummet, and her only recourse would be to get drunk and fuck even more men. Don's job would be to listen to her confessions and then give her the positive reinforcement she needed. He would prop up her flagging self-image. It was harm reduction. He would encourage her to be as big a slutbag as she could, until she got all that nasty, whorish behavior out of her system. After the whoring, sweet little Mandy could move on to do whatever it was life had in store for her.
They got into his truck and he drove to a secluded spot.
"We're going to fuck," he announced, shutting the truck down and sliding the seat as far back as it would go. He explained it would make it easier for her to say the things that needed to be said about her night at the club.
"Are you sure?" Her breathing was heavy, her voice thick.
Don grinned. She wanted it.
She was huddled in the far corner of the cab, her feet swung up onto the seat. He put the radio on low, some AM talk station. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and looked into her eyes. She smiled weakly, silently raising her hips to help him. He tugged her jeans to her ankles, just above her boots. She might as well have been hogtied. He gazed at her bald mound, the pink rosebud of her ass. He rubbed her clit with his thumb and told her she was beautiful, his eyes locked onto the holes between her legs.
He made her wrap her arms around her knees to provide him better access. Her big boots hovered in the air between them.
He unzipped. Stroking his cock, he murmured fatherly things. "Good girl," he said. "That's my girl." He pressed the head of his cock against her pussy and then pushed, burying himself inside her warm, tight canal. He started shallow, then slid deeper. She groaned, her voice rising in the quiet like a ghost. Her boots and knees filled the space between him and her head. He could hardly see her face, but that was perfect for a confession.
"That's a good girl," he said. "Let it all out."
Mandy got right down to the difficult job of telling on herself. The roommate had left her alone in the bathroom with the black guy who was using the urinal. He had asked her to give him her hand, and when she did, he placed it on his cock. She moved her boots and shifted her head to catch Don's eyes.
"My father is super strict about black guys," Mandy whispered.
Don grinned. She wanted permission to fuck black men.
"Your daddy sounds a little uptight."
A look of relief washed across Mandy's face.
"You're not like him," Don whispered. "You're better than he is." Don laid it on thick, so she wouldn't feel bad. He was empowering her to share all the details of her slutty behavior that night.
Mandy grinned.
She talked about the size of the black guy's cock and the way it kept getting bigger. It pulsed and throbbed in her hand as he finished pissing. He asked her if she wanted to go into the parking lot with him, to protect her privacy.
"I told him I didn't mind if there were others." She craned her head past her boots, eyes all big and looking for reassurance.
"One's never enough," Don said, groping her tits.
She talked about the way she let the guys position her. She spent most of the night on lip of the urinal, bent forward, a cock in her mouth, another waiting for her attention. As she began her work, she heard others coming into the bathroom. A small crowd gathered.
"How many?" Don asked.
She didn't really have a number, but it was a lot. Her boyfriend eventually returned and found her in the bathroom, her outfit smeared with semen. She didn't recognize him at first. He was leaning against the sinks, his arms folded, and she thought he was just another guy in line. He watched someone splash hot semen across her cheeks.
Mandy went quiet. The only sounds in the cab were the wet squeaks coming from their union. Don moved his hips until he heard soft sobs and then those sobs turned to airy gasps.
Her confession was over.
