Down the Path

Down the Path Down the Path

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Miriam's life is out of control when she meets someone who takes her, kicking and screaming, down the path of enlightenment.


Miriam's life is out of control when she meets someone who takes her, kicking and screaming, down the path of enlightenment.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Down the Path

Author Chapter Note

Miriam's life is out of control when she meets someone who takes her, kicking and screaming, down the path of enlightenment.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 24, 2012

Reads: 564

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 24, 2012




There’s something wrong with the new guy. He’s slow. It takes him forever to deliver a pizza. When he’s working the oven during a rush, the pizzas get all backed up and people have to help him out.

I don’t know why Gregg keeps him on. He’s been here for two months, you would think he would have gotten the hang of it by now. It’s like he’s an idiot. Fucking oblivious to what’s going on around him.

Delivery drivers make all the money. Us insiders are straight hourly. The tips in the tip jar by the register may add up to five bucks before the night’s over. If we’re lucky.

He just doesn’t seem to care.

My name tag is hanging sideways again. Third time tonight. Earlier, when I was blowing this guy in the bathroom, one of the little round backings came off and went in the toilet and got flushed before I realized it. Now I only have one of those little brass backings to hold it in place. The metal poker part has poked me hundreds of times already and I have little spots of blood that looks black coming through my shirt.

Megan tried to give me the back of one of her earrings but it was too small. I don’t like her anyway. She talks too much.

Josh, the new guy, looks at me and says, “You’re bleeding.”

No shit, dipweed. Tell me something I don’t know.

He goes back into the office where the store manager, Greg is probably popping another Percocet. He comes back with an eraser from a pencil that he just bit off.

Why didn’t I think of that.

Before I could stop him, before I even realized what he was doing, his hand was up my shirt and he was sticking the eraser to the pokey part. His hand lingered a little too long on my boob. I didn’t pull away or try to stop him. It felt good. Warm. Like a warm calming wind was washing over my body. I felt at ease. I don’t usually let anyone touch me for any reason whatsoever and everybody in the store knows it.

That’s why they were all staring at me. Josh is smiling at me and saying, “There we go, all better.”

In reality, his hand was only up my shirt for a couple seconds, but it felt like eternity.

My nametag says Miriam. That’s my name. I know, evil fucking parents, right? Whatever. It’s my name.

“I need ten hot dropped!” John calls out and Josh hops to it. He’s staring into my eyes and I feel the calm and for just an instant, just a moment, I understand why he doesn’t feel the need to rush around like a chicken with his head cut off during the busy times. Just for a moment, I feel it. I feel like everything’s going to be okay.

Then he walks away to put the ten hot wings in the oven and instantly, immediately, I feel like the world is against me again, like I can’t get ahead, like I can’t do anything with my life.

Like everything is not going to be okay.

Greg told me that when I get my license back he’ll see about making me a driver. Then maybe I won’t have to blow guys in the bathroom at thirty bucks a pop. If they don’t have thirty I’ll jerk ‘em off for twenty. For ten I’ll let ‘em look at my tits while they jerk themselves off and they can come on my face.

For five they can go fuck themselves.

That’s the problem with whores these days. They charge too much. You don’t get much repeat business when you charge hundreds of dollars for something that’s only worth forty.

Yeah, for a two hundred I’ll let ‘em fuck me. But no one ever wants to pay that much. I don’t charge that much for hand or blow jobs because it’s not that big a deal. Fucking, though, that’s another story.

Usually, before I clock in, I’ve got a line of guys waiting to get into the bathroom at Dino’s. Money in hand. Before I clock in, I’ve already made a hundred dollars.

I had my license taken away for drunk driving. Funny thing is, I don’t drink that often. It’s the ones that are constantly drunk that don’t get caught.

I’ve blown everyone in the store at some point or another. None of them will spend the extra ten dollars to stick it in me. I think they’re scared of catching something.

But I’m as clean as a whistle. I’m very careful and I get tested all the fucking time.

Josh is the only one who hasn’t used my services. Yet. I’ll get him, though. They all give in eventually. The married ones just need a little something on the side to keep from going crazy. The ones that are still in high school just need the experience so they know what their more experienced friends are talking about at school.

I offer a service. I’m actually kind of proud of it. Everyone needs love. Who cares if it’s artificial? The whole world is going artificial anyway. Processed cheese, virtual worlds. People are buying feelings and emotions all the time.

I would eat a girl out if one of them wanted me to. The prices would be the same. But no one has asked me, yet.

Bills have to get paid.

Once you’ve swallowed enough semen, it starts to taste good. Kind of like beer. It’s an acquired taste.

When Josh had his hand up my shirt and his hand rested on my boob, the sensation just couldn’t be explained. If I could liken it to anything, it would have to be like when I was a kid and I came home from school and my mother had chocolate brownies on the table and I would take one out on the back porch and eat it while soaking up the sun and I felt like that was the only thing happening in the world, like time stopped. It was just like that. When his hand was on my boob, the world stopped for a moment.

No, I don’t wear a bra. There’s no reason to. I don’t have enough to fill one. Does it bother me? No, not really. Some girls are bothered by that, but I’m not. I don’t need big boobs. Just like guys who have small dicks, they just have to find other ways to please. For me, personally, dick sizes don’t matter all that much. I have no respect for guys who think their cock size defines them as a person. When a guy brags about his dick, I just want to take him out back and shoot him in the head. Same with guys with small peckers. When they think that they’re no good because of their size, I lose all respect for them. Give me a guy with a small dick who doesn’t care he has a small dick and I will be in love.

I’m closing tonight. Greg likes to have one insider close along with two drivers and the manager. Josh and Zach are the closing drivers. Greg never closes, he always talks John into doing it. I swear it seems like John closes seven days a week even though he’s only scheduled to work for four.

I have a policy. If you don’t come in five minutes or less, you get a full refund. No questions asked.

We hand toss our pizzas. I think we’re the only ones who do that any more.

I don’t wear panties either. I just don’t see the point. My pants are normally so loose that at any time, if I were to lift my shirt up, my pubic hair would be poofing out over the waist band.

Life sucks.

There’s rent, there’s electricity, there’s water, there’s medical bills, groceries, cigarettes, and on and on and on. That’s why I have to supplement my income.

It’s really not a big deal. I like making people happy. Most people, if you ask them, they’ll say that I’m a bitch. But that’s just my outer appearance. I’m a bitch on the outside so that no one takes advantage of me. You have to be on your guard at all times. I make up for it by being a cheap whore, literally.

If I were rich, I’d blow the world for free. Free hand jobs all around. If I win the lottery, I’ll host a free blow job event right here in the parking lot.

Josh takes a delivery out and that leaves me and Zach and John in the store. Everyone else has left for the night. We close in an hour.

John comes over to me with his lip ring and those things in his earlobes that stretch them out. You know the ones I’m talking about, right? They’re big enough to stick a small dick through.

He presses up against my hip. His dick is hard and he has three fives and five ones in his hand. I put the money in my pocket.

The phone rings. With one hand I answer the phone, “Dino’s pizza, how can I help you?”

With my other hand, I unzip his pants and pull his dick through. I’m stroking him. His isn’t that long.

“That’s a large supreme with a two liter of Mello Yello?”

I keep my eye on the clock, thirty seconds have passed.

“That’ll be fourteen eighty three,” I say. “How would you like to pay?”

Forty five seconds.

“Give me the number when you’re ready.”

I cradle the phone between my head and my shoulder, freeing up my hand to punch in the credit card number.

One minute, John’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head.

“Okay, ma’am, let me just verify your address, that’s 119 Sycamore lane?”

John’s dick twitches and sneezes on my shirt and hand and the computer keyboard.

“Alrighty, ma’am, your pizza will be there in about thirty minutes.”

I hand up the phone, lick my hand clean and start making the pizza. John goes back to the manager’s office, his dick still hanging out, to smoke a cigarette.

We have signs that say this is a smoke free establishment as required by law. In the manager’s office there’s an ash tray full of butts and ash.

I really don’t think washing my hands before making a pizza makes a difference. Yeah, there’s semen on my hand, but I licked most of it off. Besides, the pizzas go through the oven at around five hundred degrees. You could sprinkle AIDS on these things and it wouldn’t survive the oven.

There’s no telling how many hundreds of people in the local area have eaten Dino’s employees (and some customers) semen on their pizzas.

Spreading the love, one pizza at a time.

Zach sees the come on my shirt and he smiles. He’s such a loser. I don’t like him. He’s not attractive at all. But his money is just as good as anyone’s and when your eyes are closed, a dick is just a dick. But he smells funny, so I pinch my nose closed when he can actually afford a blow job. Usually he can’t afford more than the hand.

From the look on his face I can tell he made good tips and he’s going to want my mouth tonight.

If nothing else, Zach is a good worker. He busts his ass to give good service to the people he delivers to. And he’s the only one who actually does the floors the way Greg likes them.

At night, when we close, the two drivers are responsible for floors and dishes. Zach always does floors, so that means Josh has dishes. He takes forever doing the dishes because he does them right. Anyone else, they’re done so quick there’s no way the dishes are clean, but at least we get out of here on time.

A customer walks in and I take their order. The keys on the keyboard are still sticky with John’s jerk juice.

I have a unique talent. One I would never tell anyone about at Dino’s because they would just make fun of me. I love listening to opera music and I’m a pretty good singer. It’s my wish to one day combine the two things that I love, giving good head and handjobs and performing opera. I think a good live opera porno would be awesome. Could you imagine people performing opera while having sex on stage?

It would bring culture to the porn addicts and loosen up the stiffs who normally listen to opera.

Mind expansion all around.

I hand the customer their receipt and it’s wet in the corner. They take it with their thumb and index finger and look at me like I just handed them a dead raccoon.

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling at them, “it’s just grease from the pizza.”

They sit down in the dining are to wait for their order.

“It’ll be about ten minutes, ma’am.”

She watches me toss the dough. Zach goes off to do the floors. John’s still in the manager’s office doing, whatever.

Josh is still out on his delivery.

Nobody really likes him but they can’t really put their finger on why. They don’t hate him either. He’s just not like everybody else. He seems to operate on a totally different plane than everyone else.

The store can be in total chaos and when he walks in, everyone seems to just calm down a notch.

I can’t explain it. Just like I can’t explain why his hand up my shirt calmed me and soothed my soul. It’s probably just my mind playing tricks on me. When his hand started going up my shirt, my immediate thought was to knee him directly in the nuts. Anyone else and I would have. I may be a whore, but you better not touch me if you’re not paying me. With Josh though, even though his hand lingered over my nipple for longer than would have seemed reasonable for what he was doing, it didn’t seem like he was being perverted, copping a feel. It was more like…I don’t know what it was like, exactly.

I wanted to find out what it was about him.

He went on less deliveries than everyone else, yet, at the end of the night, he seemed to make more money. He never told anyone how much he made exactly, he would just say, “Oh, I did okay.” But I see the wad of cash he has at the end of the night when he thinks no one is looking. When he’s in the office with the closing manager and he’s closing out his credit card receipts and cash orders, I see what he’s left with and it’s not just “Oh, I did okay,” kind of money.

I see Josh when he thinks no one is watching him and his lips are moving but he’s not saying anything out loud. He might be singing to himself but I don’t think so.

When we’re slow, sometimes Greg asks me to slice the pepperoni. I take it into the bathroom and shove it deep inside myself. Both sides. I push it in and out and use my other hand to rub my clit. I can’t come unless my clit is stimulated. When guys eat me out, they stick their tongue inside me instead of my clit. I think if I ever find a guy that knows how to make me come with their mouth, I’ll probably fall in love.

To me, oral sex just seems so much more personal. Anyone can stick a hard dick in a pussy, but it takes a real love of what you do to make your tongue do all the work.

I squirt, a lot, when I come. The pepperoni is pretty well coated before I slice it.

It’s just another way for me to spread my love to the local community. Everyone could use a little more love on their pizza and in their lives. There’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, our motto is “We put love into every pizza.”

I’m just doing my part to make that as true as possible.

The lady’s pizza comes out of the oven and I put it in a box, cut it up, and hand it to her with a smile. It’s a large pepperoni with extra pepperoni and cheese.

“Enjoy your pizza, have a good night, ma’am.”

She smiles at me and says, “Thank you. You know, there’s just something about your pepperoni pizzas. They’re so much better than the other guys. Whatever you guys are doing you just keep doing it. What’s your secret?”

“I really can’t tell you, ma’am. Let’s just say that we love what we do.”

This seemed to be an acceptable answer because she left with no more questions.

I wanted to tell her it was our special secret sauce but that might have just led to more questions. I just wanted her to leave. After she walked out I locked the door behind her, turned off the open sign and the lights in the lobby.

I was about to turn around when I saw Josh pull into the parking lot. The other drivers pull in like they’re bringing their wife to the hospital to deliver a baby. Josh pulls in nice and slow. He gets out of his car with the pizza bag tucked under one arm. I wait for him and unlock the door when he gets closer. This isn’t a bad neighborhood, per se, but it’s not the best place in the world. All the other stores in the shopping center are closed by now, we’re always the last ones. To leave the door unlocked after closing is just inviting trouble.

I open the door for him and he’s all smiles.

“Hi Miriam,” he says. “Looks like your name tag is holding up okay.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You got a lot of dishes in the back. You might want to get started on them.”

He walks by me and a wave of calm washes over me for one tiny second. It’s like a whiff of cologne when somebody passes by you on the street that reminds you of a better day.

That’s what his aura is like. A whiff of good memories or feelings.

John comes out of the office, his dick still hanging out of his pants. He’s so high he doesn’t even know. I stop him as he’s passing me and stuff it back inside. He turns off the open sign and the lights in the lobby.

“Go ahead and get the front cleaned up,” he says.

I start wiping down the oven and tables and bring the rest of the dishes to Josh. He’s whispering to himself, smiling. I’ve never seen anyone smile while washing dishes. It makes me sick.

Zach is done with the floor already. He comes around the corner and motions with his head for me to follow him. He’s got money in his hand.

He leads me to the men’s room. Our bathrooms are small. One toilet and one sink. He gives me thirty dollars and I put it in my pocket. I have to pee so I pull my pants down around my ankles and sit on the toilet. Before I can get situated, his dick is in my face, all hard and throbbing and ready.

I cup his balls in the crook of my thumb and index finger, squeezing gently. I set my internal clock for five minutes. I have yet to give anyone their money back.

I close my eyes and picture Brad Pitt, Bradley Cooper, that guy from Thor. His dick tastes like pizza dough. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. When you’ve been working here long enough, everything smells like pizza dough. It gets in your clothes and doesn’t come out no matter how much you wash it.

He groans. I’m on the right track and we’re only a minute in. I let loose with my pee. It feels so good. The longer you hold your urine, the better if feels when it finally comes. It feels almost as good as coming.

Zach gets so into it that I’m not even doing anything anymore. He’s fucking my mouth like it was pussy. He’s holding the sides of him head like he was holding my hips from behind.

He’s just about to come when the door flies open and Josh is standing there. It’s enough to make Zach stop. My internal clock tells me that I only have a minute left.

“What the fuck are you doing dude?” Zach says. “Don’t you know how to fucking knock?”

“I’m sorry,” Josh says. “It wasn’t locked. I’m sorry.”

Well, so much for keeping what I do a secret from at least one person in the store. It’s not like he wouldn’t have found out eventually anyway. Nobody in this store can keep their mouth shut.

“Get the fuck out!” Zach says.

Josh shuts the door and I hear him go into the women’s bathroom.

Greg, the manager, is a pervert. The locks on the bathroom doors, both of them, men’s and women’s, are broken. He won’t fix them.

I try to put Zach’s dick back in my mouth but he pulls away. He’s already getting soft.

“Come on, I still have a minute, I can do this,” I say.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m not in the mood anymore. Just give me my money back and we’ll try again tomorrow.”

Fucking Josh.

Zach leaves the bathroom. I wipe myself, pull my pants up, wash my hands, and go next door to the women’s restroom. I open the door to confront Josh. I don’t really know why. It wasn’t his fault. But I can’t help it. I’m so pissed off that I have to direct my anger somewhere.

He’s standing there peeing. His dick isn’t that big. The problem with today’s society, with women in particular, is that they expect everyone to have dicks like in the porn movies. That just isn’t the case. Out of the last fifty guys I’ve had the pleasure of pleasuring, maybe five of them had porno penises.

I’m not a size queen.

Most people, when interrupted in the act of urinating would be embarrassed, would do what they could to cut the stream off as quickly as possible and put themselves away or at least attempt to turn away from the interrupting person thus peeing on the wall or the floor.

But Josh didn’t do this. He just said, “Hi Miriam,” and kept on peeing like it was nothing. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Most guys I know with a similar sized penis are embarrassed by it, would try to hide it as much as possible. Most guys his size, they try to make sure they’re as hard and as big as possible before they let me see it.

Josh didn’t care.

Before I could let my anger loose on him, he says, “Hey, I’m sorry for interrupting you in there.”

Instead of laying into him, I just said, “You cost me thirty dollars.”

“Oh, okay. Here,” he finishes peeing and flushes the toilet. He turns to me while shoving his penis back through his fly then reaches into his pocket and pulls out thirty three dollars and hands it to me. “I’m so sorry for that.”

I take the money. I sit on the toilet and reach for his zipper but he pulls away.

“No, it’s okay, just take the money, I don’t need you to do that.”

He’s saying this and smiling the whole time. He has this fucking white light glow around him. I don’t know if anyone else can see it but it’s fucking annoying. I just want to piss him off. I just want to make him angry. Is that too much to ask?

Why should he be so happy when the world around him is so miserable?

He puts a hand on my cheek. I feel the warmth wash over me. All the tension leaves my body. My right leg twitches and I immediately come, squirting in my pants, soaking the crotch. The orgasm goes on and on and I try not to let it show. I don’t moan or scream, but a sigh escapes my lips.

I look up at Josh and he’s just smiling at me and I swear there was a halo around his head.

I don’t believe in God, but in that instant, I felt heaven.

© Copyright 2019 Galen Froste. All rights reserved.


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