Chantelle_(1)

Dear Readers:

If you don’t want to spend a lot of time on story exposition, don’t bother reading this story. If you want nothing but action, don’t bother reading this story. If you’re offended by the theme of a young girl engaging in sex with an adult male, don’t bother reading this story.

This is a work of fiction, absolutely none of it is true. I strongly advise any person reading this story to engage in consensual sex with only partners who have reached the legal age to do so in your community.

This is my first attempt at a story. I hope you enjoy it. Please pardon any grammar, spelling, syntax or formatting errors. I’ll try harder next time, because I have a sequel in mind if you want more.

Chantelle:

Chapter One

It was Friday evening, another night working late. This had happened for several nights in a row, and it cut into my work-out time and my social life, such as it is. I work as a systems trouble-shooter, and for several nights I had been staying late at one of our branch offices, trying to sort out some issues we’d been experiencing with the printers. It was now close to eight P.M., and if I was going to go to the gym before I went home I needed to grab a few energy bars out of my gym bag, which I had left in my car. I went downstairs, and because the shipping area is secured after regular hours, I slipped out the front door to go around to the parking area. As I returned from my car, I literally walked right into somebody standing under the canopy.

It was a very wet and bedraggled looking female of an indeterminate age. I apologized immediately, but she was sobbing and didn’t acknowledge me at first. I stood there looking at her, and several facts became apparent. She was a lot younger than I had first assumed, and obviously was not wearing a bra.
The evening was cool due to another summer rain shower, and she was wet, so her braless tits and hard nipples were visible through her little crop top. Her mascara had run in rivulets down her face, making her look like she had been out in the rain for a while. She was wearing some tight white leggings under a pair of shorts with some ridiculous high heeled shoes which only served to accentuate her beautiful little round bubble-butt. No jacket, no sweater, just a small tiara completed her outfit. It was clear to me that she was downtown doing some “bar-hopping” and something had gone very wrong. These thoughts flashed though my brain in milliseconds, and then I asked her if she was okay.

“No” she replied, “My fuckin’ boyfriend dumped me off downtown, and my handbag is in his car, the fuckin’ asshole!”

Being the gentleman that I am, I offered to call her a cab to get home.

“Are you stupid?!” she managed through her sobs, “I have no bag, which means I got no money, no keys, and no phone! How is a fuckin’ cab going to help?”

Hmmmm, I thought. She’s much younger than I first assumed. Out loud I said “Calm down, and let’s see if we can’t figure out a solution to your problem. First off, what’s your name?”

“Chantelle, what am I going to do? What’s your name?” she asked through her tears.

I chuckled and said “I’m Mike, and let’s get you inside where it’s warm and dry, and I’ll think of something.”

I turned and motioned her towards the door. When she spun around I was treated to a full-on view of her luscious ass. It was tight and round, with a nice butt-shelf; she very much resembled a figure skater’s physique from behind. I actually got a little hard at this point; I’m an ass man, and this was one of the best examples I had ever seen. I grabbed my bag, and unlocking the door touched her elbow to guide her inside the foyer. Before I locked the door behind me, I told her to go up and turn to the left and head through the cubicles into the only office that was lighted. I waited to lock the door just so I could watch her walk up the stairs. I think she knew I was watching, because she added a fetching little sway to her step. Her ass was so good that I ended up with a rock hard cock in my pants.

Once upstairs, I navigated my way to the office I was temporarily using to find her just standing there with a lost look. Now that she was inside, in a well lighted space, I was able to get a better look at her. Most of her make-up had washed away with the rain and her tears, and she couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15, I thought to myself. Her little cream colored crop top was basically transparent, highlighting her lovely little b-cup breasts with their little pencil eraser nipples and tiny aureoles. I noticed that her shorts were almost see-through, and although I couldn’t quite make out any features, it seemed as though she wasn’t wearing any underwear, either, just the shorts and leggings. Oh my god she was a hottie.

“Do you want to use the phone and call somebody?” I asked.

“No, I got nobody I can call right now.”

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but maybe you should call your parents.”

“I can’t!” she exclaimed.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because.” She retorted.

I tried a different approach. “Why don’t you at least get out of those wet clothes, you can use the towel in my gym bag and dry off, and borrow my t-shirt and shorts, at least ‘til your clothes are dry.” I offered.

I showed her where the Ladies room was, and handed her the towel, t-shirt and shorts that I keep in my bag.

She returned several minutes later, wearing my t-shirt, which looked like a tent on her small frame! She handed my towel and shorts back to me.

“Jesus, how big are you anyway?” she asked. “The shorts wouldn’t even stay on, and I got nothing to tie them up with.”

“Sorry” I said, “I didn’t think about how big my clothes are.” I’m fairly large, 6 feet 2 inches, and I weigh around 240 pounds (only ten pounds more than when I played college football), and being all of maybe five feet tall and maybe 120 pounds, she looked lost in my shirt. Now that she had dried off and removed most of the smudged makeup, I could see that she was, at most, 14 or 15.

“Alright,” I said, “let’s try this again. Call your parents, please.”

“Fuck, I already told you I can’t!” she responded with the exaggerated sigh and eye-roll of the typical teen.

“Well, what if I drove you home?” I asked in desperation.

“You can’t!” she yelped, seemingly alarmed at my solution.

“Okay, well then we’ve got a problem.” I replied. “I have no cash on me, and as far as I’m aware, no taxi accepts credit cards. You won’t let me drive you home, so you need to call your parents and arrange for them to come and get you.” I explained, patiently.

“I can’t! I already told you.” she exclaimed with a roll of the eyes.

“Well, that’s a major problem, then.” I responded “How are you going to get home safely if neither one of us has any cash for cab fare, you don’t want me to drive you home, and there’s nobody that you can call? I can’t let you stay here for the night, and I’m not putting you out on the street.” I was getting exasperated by her willfulness; and then, sweet inspiration.

I said, “Okay then, I gonna call the cops. There’s no way I’m leaving you here for the night, or tossing you outside to fend for yourself!”

“NO!” she screamed, “You can’t!” And then the tears and the sobbing started again.

“Oh yes I will.” I said in a mock angry tone. I knew now that I was going to get to the bottom of this.

“Either you explain to me why I can’t drive you home, or I’m gonna call the cops right now.” I threatened.

“Fuck you, I’m fuckin’ gonna go then, you fuckin’ retard!” she barked at me.

I decided to call her bluff. I knew there was no way she was going to voluntarily go back outside in the rain and cold and start walking somewhere, who knows where at this time of night. I thought to myself that she was really scared and in way over her head, but wouldn’t admit to it, because it would make her admit to being barely a teenager.

“Alright” I said, “I don’t want to, but if that’s what you really want to do, I can’t stop you, you know. You’re free to go; let me know when you’re ready to leave as I need to lock the door behind you.”

“Oh fuck! You’re a real fuckin’ asswipe, aren’t you?” She said, obviously both angry and terrified at the same time.

“Jesus, fuck, alright!” she said, clearly surrendering to my will.

“Okay” I said “First question. Why can’t you call home?”

“My mom’s out of the city on business” she replied. “I’m supposed to be staying with my dad, but I didn’t even tell him I was coming over. She thinks I’m over at his place, but I spent this week at my asshole boyfriend’s apartment. I doubt if my dad’s even home; he’s a fuckin’ stupid drunk, and he wouldn’t even remember my name if I called him now.”

Wow, I thought to my self, she spent the week at her boyfriend’s apartment. I bet they weren’t exactly celibate. I’m fairly certain that she’s no virginal little angel. I’ll have to dig a little deeper and see just what she’s been up to.

“Well” I asked, “what about your friends? Shouldn’t we call one of them, and maybe you can stay there?”

“Fuck no! Then my mom will find out and she’ll freak and probably like kill me or something. She’s always overreacting when I do stuff, so this would be like the worst.”

“Okay, then” I answered. “What the hell did you do to your boyfriend to make him leave you at some skanky bar downtown?”

“He thought I’m almost 19, and I also got fake ID, but the guy at the door figured out my ID was bogus, and wouldn’t let me in the club.” she explained. “So when the door guy wouldn’t let me in, my boyfriend freaked out at me and told me I was a stupid little cunt, and that he didn’t want to hang with me if I couldn’t go into clubs and bars with him. He told me to fuck off and not to text him or call him, cause he would just ignore me.” At this point she was now crying softly and wiping away tears as she told me her tale of woe.

I asked her “How old is this guy, what’s his name?”

She replied “He’s 21, and his name is Josh, and he’s like a super-stud and all my friends were all jealous when I started dating him.”

“He’s a jerk in my books for leaving you alone downtown.” I said. “How old are you anyway?”

“17” she answered.

“Liar!” I said “You can’t be more than 13 or 14! And you’re hanging out with a 21 year old loser who dumps you at the first sign of trouble? And where’s your bag and your cellphone?”

“It’s in his car” she replied “He wouldn’t even go get it for me; he just went into the club and left me standing there. That’s when I started walking home.”

“Listen, I’m not stupid, you know, I figure you can’t be any older than 14 or 15, and you gotta know by now that you’re way too deep into this situation to keep lying to me.” I challenged her. “You may think you’re all grown up, but come on, look what you got yourself into. You’ve got no money, no phone, no way to get home, you’re stuck downtown, and safe only because I happened to go outside when I did. Otherwise, you’d be running from some lowlife, or fending off some pimp, or even worse!” I was on a roll, now.

“Okay, okay!” she retorted “I’m gonna be 15 in two months.