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Chapter 3
     
    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