Maggie 3.4 (Patreon)

She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. Knew she should never have agreed to play strip Mortal Kombat in the first place. She’d rationalized that it was fun and carefree, but the truth was it wasn’t. Now she was climbing onto Cole’s bed and he was going to put his erection in her anus. And she could rationalize again, and say it was as Cole had said—for the greater good, and that it wasn’t sex—but there was nothing about this that was right.

That was the excitement, though, wasn’t it? That was why she was crawling over his duvet without a stitch of clothing. Just like she’d done with Jay, she was going to boil her frog one burner increment at a time, turning up the heat tick by tick until she’d boiled that sucker. Maybe it made her a bad person, but she still wasn’t going to get out of the bed and put her clothes on, head back to her dorm and do some studying. That would be the right thing. She was going to rationalize it all away.

“A bet’s a bet, Maggie,” Cole said behind her with good humor as she walked across his narrow bed on hands and knees. She didn’t look back, and didn’t want to think of what he was seeing from his angle, hoping she looked good like this.

She lay on her back with her knees drawn up and held together, feet flat on his bed. Bunched his duvet around her, but didn’t cover herself. Cole came to bed, his briefs pushed out by his hefty hardness. He was lit by the table lamp next to the bed, Satinder’s lamp by his desk, and the TV behind him. He put a knee on the bed and her body jostled with his arrival. Then he was slipping in next to her. It was friendly and it was sexual all at once. Her heart drummed away double-time.

He lay on his side next to her, his head propped in his hand, elbow dug into the mattress. Laying like they were side by side on a beach somewhere, not alone in his dorm room about to do something dirty because she lost a bet.

“Hey,” he said, “I liked meeting your friends this weekend.” His hand pulled up the duvet a little higher then it was working underneath at pulling his briefs down.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know much about you... I mean, you know, your parents or where you came from.”

“I don’t talk about it much.”

His hand emerged from under the covers and he held his white briefs, spun it like he was learning to rope, then flung them over to the chair where his book bag sat. They slapped the wall then dropped silently to the floor.

“Well, it was interesting,” he said. “I’ve known you so long and I loved to see, you know, where young Maggie came from. . . . Turn over.”

“How?” she asked him.

“On your side, face the wall,” he said.

There were only two pillows, so she took the one she was using and bunched it up into a tight ball, slipped it under her ear as she turned to her side, putting her back to Cole. She drew her knees up.

“That’s good,” he said. He was moving around behind her, shaking the bed. The drawer was drawn open, a squeaky scraping sound. Something was removed and she heard a hollow high note, like a metal tin being pulled, accompanied by the sound of suction.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Vaseline,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I mean, I just...I guess...realized that while I knew you so well, there was so much more...” His hand moved along her rump, the dry top surface of his knuckles searching her crack, finding it, then parting her. Then his finger stroked around her anus and she felt the warm thick paste being spread. “...So much more to know. How long have we been friends?”

His finger tickled and circled her little bud and she started to squirm. “Uhh...well, exactly as long as Max, I guess. I met you two the same night. Four years?”

“Four school years,” he said.

“Right.”

“You haven’t been with Max for four years. You’ve been a couple for two years.”

“Almost three. Our third anniversary is December...”

“Easy,” he said as warning, one hand on her waist now. His finger slid gently inside her. Her thigh muscles flexed and she scrunched her toes. “Yeah, so, you and me? ...Three years?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, her scalp tingling as he carefully stroked his finger in and out of her.

“We’ve had such a good time here. You ever worry that it’s almost over?”

“A-all the time...”

“That feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I worry too.” He rolled then and she could tell he was on his back. He thrust the covers down and she could hear sticky Vaseline crackling, knew he was stroking his cock. She listened but she didn’t turn to look. He rolled away and she heard him bumping and rummaging through the drawer. He returned to her and she felt his warmth near her back, felt his hot sticky cock press along the soft curve of her rump. It slipped against her skin as he reached above her head.

He said, “Not so much worry, I guess...put your arms up, grab the headboard...more like I’m, you know, stabbed with a real...profound sadness.”

“Uh-huh,” she said and she lifted her hands up towards the headboard, nodded her head forward til her ears were past her arms. Felt the finials of the headboard and her fingers wrapped around one, gripped it. She looked down, saw her nipples condense and stretch.

“Yeah, I don’t want it to be over.”

“Me neither,” she said. He was wrapping fabric around her wrists. It was comfortable, satiny, and he wove it between her wrists and around them, then around the finial. She didn’t stop him. Her heart beat even faster.

“I’m off to Harvard after the summer. I’ll be in Cambridge. You and Max... who knows? . . . NYC?”

“Maybe.”

“You guys will be married. You’ll have your new lives. Maybe I’ll visit, but it would be so easy for it to just... dissipate. You know?”

“I don’t think it will,” she said.

“That’s why I really enjoyed being at your home.” His lips pressed on her bare shoulder, sucked lightly but so briefly on her. Her eyes closed and her pulse increased. “It made me feel so close to you.”

Then the head of his cock pressed against her tight aperture. She could picture it behind her closed eyes. That large corpulent shape with its ridges and its foreskin, mashing into her, pushing until the weakness of her opening gave way to him and he was swallowed.

“Oh God,” she sighed.

He pressed harder and her anus stretched against his intrusion. He was thick and hard and she felt that size spread her tight hole wide. It sunk into her slowly, the Vaseline easing its passage. Once she’d accepted his glans the rest of him brought no more pain. Now it just felt like a swollen lump being passed into her guts.

Cole continued, “I worry that we’ll grow apart... How’s that?”

“I’m good,” she gasped, then grunted.

“You know... I worry that we’ll just move on and our time here will be a funny memory.”

“Ah... ah-huh...”

“You okay?”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and pressed them between her teeth, hummed, Mmm-hmmm, let them plop out, said, “Yeah, I’m okay. You’re big.”

“Shh-sh, it’s okay. This is what I mean. Just be casual. Don’t fight it, Maggie. Want me to stop here?”

“Yeah,” she said.

He let it sit inside her, didn’t go deeper. His hand rested on her naked hip. He said, “All this time I’ve known you I never considered you weren’t always this fun, happy carefree girl.”

“No... high school... was hard...” she said. Her tummy bunched and she pulled her elbows toward her hips but his binding tightened. She flexed her tummy harder, felt his hardness slipping against her insides, her flexing making her colon muscles clamp tighter on him.

“That feels good. You doing that on purpose?”

“Does it... feel good?” she said.

“Fuck yes. It feels really good. You still okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Want me to go a little deeper?”

“Sure.”

Then he was sliding again and she felt her sphincter stretch wider, felt the knot of his head grinding through her membranes inside her. It was different now. The pain was gone, reduced to discomfort, and her heart raced at the thought of how awful it was what she was doing. Her eyes roamed his room, what she could see of it. The bare wall dead ahead, a poster down past her bare feet that read on the top “God is Dead,” -Nietzsche, 1883 and below that, “Nietzsche is dead,” -God, 1900. She could see his books and bag and crumpled clothes on an upholstered chair with arms, sitting by the door like a guard.

This was so wrong, so bad, and that made it all the more exciting. This was her best friend. Four years—no, three—she’d known him. In all that time they had never been sexual. Not even remotely. His charm was apparent and undeniable. But here she was now and she was familiar with his cock. His most secret thing he had. She shared it with him. She’d sucked it, been fucked by it, now it was up her ass. But it wasn’t as dirty as it might seem. There was a sweetness to it. A friendliness, like he understood her desire for exploration and he was sharing his knowledge with her. As though she’d told him she wanted to go to Venice and he took her and kindly showed her all the sights because he’d been before. It felt kind of...nice.

And it was that paradox that made the dirtiness grander. Not in scale, but in a sense, scope. Looking back from afar and seeing what she was doing in the context of her friendship with Cole and Cole’s friendship with Max this was so lascivious. And so...sexy. Her thighs started to squirm. Now she was seeing what he meant about relaxing. She wasn’t fighting it now. Now she was digging it. She could feel a wetness rising in her. Feel her arousal begin to come to the surface of her skin inside and out.

“That’s what I mean about your friends,” he said as though he was unaware of the transformation happening to her. “Like, I know you weren’t close, but—”

She gasped, “They weren’t... my friends. They were just... kids I did my... homework with. My mom doesn’t... get that.”

He was quiet a moment and she felt his eyes on her. He said, “Am I your friend?”

“Yeah,” she said, more wistfully than she intended. Her head twisted between her arms, pulled back, turned so she could see his face in her periphery. “A real friend.”