Maggie 3.7 (Patreon)

It was after ten o’clock and Maggie wasn’t in her room. Max stood outside her door, 211, having knocked now a dozen times. She wasn’t home. Unless she was passed out. But not on a Wednesday, not Maggie.

Unless she was cuddled up in her bed right now with Cole. The two of them accidentally falling asleep after a vicious, passionate fucking and now they were laying under her sheets wide-eyed and snickering, putting a finger over each other’s mouths, trying not to laugh, waiting for Max to go away. She wasn’t responding to texts either. Her phone was going to message. He chewed the inside of his lip. The hall bustled behind him. Students going left and right, laughing, shouting out to one another, careless and problem free.

He strode down the hall, wondering what to do next. He texted Cole this time and watched his screen while he walked down the stairs to the main floor trying not to bump into anyone. Still no response. Once out in the fresh air he took a few deep breaths and looked out over the quad from where he stood. Cold and crisp, dark, paths lit by the halide lights on posts. The paths were populated by sauntering students laughing and talking, people by themselves with headphones. A bike rode past. He squinted in the dark, scoping all the faces, looking to see if she was coming, see if she was out here. He headed to the northeast, going along the path and thinking to curl around behind Keegan and cut across the athletic field, intending to dip into Farmingham village, head to Altieri’s and see if they might still be there. He paused at the edge of the grass where it met the concrete path, looking out across the dark plain ahead and the lit street ahead a few hundred yards off. He tapped his foot on the stone edge of the path. Changed his mind and walked back the way he’d come and headed towards Samuelson. He walked briskly, putting some speed to his shoes. Somehow something bad was building inside him. He wouldn’t ascribe the word premonition but it was something very akin. An intuition. Could he trust it? Sometimes the notion of intuition could be driven by hormonal desires and impulses. He headed to Samuelson blindly, his mind a blank wordless slate, but something deep down in his brain, something small and primitive was sure he would find them together. And the speed to his step? ...It felt a bit like desire. Like he wanted to catch them together.

He didn’t slow. He pictured what he might find. His worst image. The one he’d had knocking at her door. Being left out. Her and Cole together and laughing at him, hiding under their sheets, sharing humor at dumb Max’s misfortune. Knowing he’d be so mad they were fucking, but doing it anyway. He was mad. Mad, but he wanted to see it. Wanted the confirmation. Why would he want to see that? Why would...

At the same moment that his phone binged to life in his hand he saw a familiar shape, black against the lobby lights of Samuelson. It looked like his Maggie, moved like her. It emerged from the doors, held a phone in its grasp, bustled quickly down the steps, close enough to him that he could hear the heels of penny loafers on stone. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the screen.

Maggie: Sorry sorry sorry. We were at Rockets and it was loud neither of us heard our phones

He stepped into the grass and stood himself behind a tall boxwood shrub and paused to think. That was Maggie coming out of Samuelson. He was sure of it. She wasn’t coming out of Kirby Hall, the building that hosted Rockets café. If she had been at Rockets she would have texted him when she left there, not after she and Cole walked all the way back to Samuelson. It was a ten minute walk from Kirby to Samuelson.

His phone buzzed.

Maggie: where are u now? Meet me in my room...

He watched the shape approach. More sure now that it was her. He texted.

Max: I’m on the athletic field, went to Altieri’s...almost at Keegan. Where are u?

Maggie: I’m on North quad, almost home...see you there

The figure passed on the path, two arms length away. It was Maggie, head down, reading her screen, a hurried step carrying her quickly to meet him at her room. But she wasn’t at North quad. That was where she would be if she was coming back from Kirby. She was at Samuelson quad. She was coming out of Cole’s dorm. She was lying. His goddamn intuition was right. He stepped out onto the path in disbelief. He stood where she had just walked and he watched her back as she moved from him and made her way home. He watched her. She lied to him. And maybe just intuition again, maybe right, maybe wrong...there was a hitch to her gait. The kind of hitch that seeped into his mind as the belief that she was sore from having just fucked his best friend.

* * *

Max found her in her hall, on her toes, scanning over the passing heads looking for him. Her face showed relief when their eyes met. He forced a smile and it pained him. She waved, then leaned herself on the wall next to her door and waited for him to get to her. She smiled the whole time it took him to cross from the stairs. It was breaking his heart.

“Maxy,” she said, her voice a breathy sigh, one of honest endearment, and she closed her eyes and put her arms around him. Despite the twisted pain he felt, her touch, her reaction, her feel against him made his heart soar. He held her tight.

She whispered at his shoulder, “How was your class?”

He pulled back to answer, but before he spoke her hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him, deeply and lovingly.

He gave it back to her, feeling his stiffness and discomfort being eased away. The honesty and passion he felt here now making him doubt what he saw with his own eyes. She had lied to him but her emotions were true. Her love for him was real. And somehow that heightened her deceit to stellar levels of arousal. His sweet Maggie so in love with him but just needing the action, just needing those things that other men could do to her. He grew hard in his pants and their loving kisses became more enlivened as he began to breathe deeply against her, press his chest to her and grind his hips against her, let her know his arousal.

She became aware, knew that was his hardness against her tummy right now.

“Come with me,” she said, eyes narrow and lusty, her smile still there but weakened by a libidinous rising.

Holding his hand, she used the free one to get her dorm room door open and she led him into the dark. The handkerchief was looped around the handle and the door closed. She left him, he heard her stumble in the dim and then the flea market lamp on her night table was tuned on and he saw her looking at him.

“Maggie...” he started.

She came to him quickly, put her arms around his waist and looked in his eyes, said, “I need you...”

It felt vaguely like a dismissal as exciting as it was. He’d been about to announce that they should talk. They hadn’t been alone together since Sunday and they hadn’t had an in-depth discussion about what had transpired. Not that they didn’t have the time. They were busy but they could have made a meeting. Neither of them wanted to. That was the truth. Neither of them wanted to address the strangeness that was now consuming their love lives. But given tonight’s events; her and Cole witnessed through Altieri’s window, her being alone with Cole without him, her lying to him... He wanted to talk. However he was hard and she was eager and he could put off talking even more. He might just lose his nerve altogether.

He kissed her. Thought she would want that. Thought like Cole would think. Give her what Cole would give her. Max was handsome and sweet, and most of all, he was smart. He might not be as muscular, as handsome, or have a big dick, but he was smart enough to learn from his Maggie what turned her on. Maybe it was other men, and maybe he wasn’t against that, but he knew in his heart that when he was with her he would not disappoint her. He would not wilt before her. He loved her too much.

He shoved her briskly to sit on the bed.

“Ow,” she laughed as she thumped down on her rump and bounced on her bed. Her jaw clacked audibly, her teeth gnashing together. “Max!” she laughed and her hand came up to soothe her mouth.

He pushed her back with a kiss, straddled her, and she lay back, her hands on his chest as he gave her his tongue. His hands roamed her body, handling her breasts over her sweater. He pulled back and whispered to her, “Did Cole make you horny?”

“What? ...” she whispered, a tentative hush restraining her voice.

Maybe they could do both. Maybe they could discuss their sex lives and maybe he could give her what she wanted all at once. He repeated, “You were with Cole all night, now you’re so fucking horny...”

She squeaked, struggled for an answer.

He whispered, “I bet when I put my hand in your panties I’m going to find a slippery mess.”

“Oh,” she sighed and he felt her tension wash away. A strength rose in him. He knew her. He knew her dirty little mind. His hand traveled from the cashmere of her chest, slowly down her belly and she arched her hips, rose them, eager for him to touch her. “Oh Max,” she sighed, and a wide smile broke his face but he pinched it off. He went lower, his clenched thumb and forefinger twisting her button open and then drawing down her zip. Her hips began to churn against him. With her pants undone his hand slipped easily under her panties.

“Oh, you little slut,” he hissed in mock surprise and disgust. “What a mess, you bad girl. All you ever think about is boys...”

She sighed a laugh and writhed under him, but he didn’t let up. His fingers slipped through her sex. Her labia were engorged and excited, slippery with her dirty arousal. He hooked a finger inside her and she spread her legs. He kissed her neck and up under her hair behind her ear. She gripped his arms with her hands and squeezed him fiercely.

“You suck his cock tonight? Tell me... You suck his cock?”

“No,” she gasped.

“You wanted to...”

“Ah,” she gasped, her fingers digging into him.

He pulled away and rose over her, his hands tugging under the waistband of her pants and pulling them down her thighs. Her flesh shook as she helped him, kicking her legs out of the pants and he threw them aside. He dove between her legs, kissing inside her knees and working his lips up the inside of her thighs.

“Oh, no,” she gasped out, with abrupt surprise and sitting up, closing her legs on his ears and stopping him. She looked troubled and their eyes met and held for a quiet moment.

“I want you up here,” she said softly, and her hands caressed his face.

He rose to stand over her, her sitting, him standing on the floor leaning over her.

He stared at her seriously. “You fuck him?”

She looked in his eyes and she bit her lip. His heart stopped. She shook her head no.

“You swear?”

She nodded. “I swear,” she whispered.

He resumed, his heart pounding relief in thundering pulses through his veins. The roar in his eardrums was deafening. She was a liar, lied about being at Rockets, but he could see in her eyes she meant that she hadn’t fucked Cole. His hands went under her sweater, his mouth on hers. When he tried to raise it she stopped him.

“Just fuck me, Max.”

“You can’t wait?”

She shook her head, said, “No.”

“You wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?”

She kissed him instead of answering.

He pulled back, said, “Talk to me, Maggie. Tell me the truth. The truth is exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

His hands undid his own pants now, his lips back on hers while he worked. Her fingers touched at his hands in excitement, wanting his cock to be out. Brushing her hands away with his own, he whispered, “Get on your hand and knees, Maggie.”

Her eyes glistened, darting back and forth over his, wide and staring, and he felt so powerful. Twenty minutes ago she’d stabbed him in the heart but he was taking it back. “Get on all fours and show me your pussy,” he said, his voice breaking and trembling, his confidence just a thin veil. She complied. Crawled herself up on to her bed and rolled over got on all fours and looked over her shoulder at him. Moving to her side he got close to her ear while his hand explored her hungrily. Not carefully, his whole had moving up her crack and over her anus, fingers stroking through her wet sex and rubbing her clit aggressively. Her thighs began to quiver. “Did you like fucking him, Maggie? Did Cole fuck you good?”

“He did,” she gasped, her face showed shock. Her Max coming on strong, surprising her, surprising himself. He knew her better than Cole. “Did my best friend’s cock fill up your tight little pussy?”

“It did...”

“Yeah, you looked like you loved every inch, you dirty slut.”

“Oh shit, Max...”

“Dirty Maggie,” he growled in her ear and grabbed a handful of her silky hair. He walked on his knees around behind her, nudged her legs wider with his knee then lined himself up. Her back rose and fell with her desperate breaths.

“This what you wanted him to do? This what you wanted from Cole tonight?” He slammed himself into her in one hard stroke. Her ass smacked against his hips with a wet slap. Her cheeks jiggled and his cock flexed inside her. She cried out high and sharp. She was so wet and sloppy he barely felt her until she tightened up on him and her body gripped at him. “Squeeze it, slut. Squeeze that cock. You wish it was Cole’s?”

“Yeah,” she cried.

“You love his big cock?”

“I love it, Max...”

He pounded into her until he had her lowered on the bed. His mouth struggled close to her ear, so driven with filthy awful things he wanted to curse her with. “You little slut...you love cock...tell me you love it...”

“Ah, I love cock...”

“You dirty whore, you’re filth...”

“Ah!” she cried, and she whipped her hair around, thrust her hips, eagerly wanting his cock, trying to fuck him back. “God Max, he fucked me so good, he’s bigger than you, better than you, God he makes me come...”

“No good, Maggie, you’re no good. You’re so much better than this...why you want to be one of those girls? ...Why you want to be a fucking whore?”

She let out a long low wailing sound that frightened him at first and his instinct was to let her up and hold her. It sounded like a mourning. “That’s all you are? That’s all you want to be? ...A hole for men to stick their big cocks in? ...”

She moaned God, God, God, over and over and dug her forehead into the mattress. Then a groaning mantra came from the sheets in pace with his thrusts. Harder. She wanted it harder.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t come up with any more dirty mind games, his own mind was lost in a filthy fugue. He pummeled her. Her bed rattled, and he realized how hot and sweaty it had become in her room. Her sex made wet slushing sounds, they both panted like they were at the end of a marathon. And in a way they were. He gripped her waist hard and fucked her like he hated her, like he was trying to hurt her. She loved it, she took it. She grunted and cried and clamored, and finally she said, I’m coming, oh I’m coming. She yelled it. Yelled it loud and vigorous. Way louder than she’d ever been. It was a pronouncement that would have been heard by anyone in the hall. That excited him. He wanted everyone on this floor to know he was Maggie’s boss, that he made her come, that he had the power.

“Make me come, Max,” she yelled, followed by shrieks and cries that were wonderful and at the same time a little worrying. It sounded like she was being victimized, and it shook him, slowed his stroke. Her hands bunched sheets and they gripped them so tightly her arms shook. She wheezed, “Harder...ah, deeper...” and he tried to resume. Sweat dripped from his nose and he looked at her gleaming ass, shining with spread excitement and sweat. He gave it to her. Hard sharp thrusts that smacked his hip bones against her cheeks and sent a tremble through her flesh. She came and came and it was her sounds that brought it out of him. They came at the same time and his heart surged with joy that they could share this. Two lovers been together a long time. He was learning. Other men were teaching him about his wife-to-be and he wanted to learn everything he could from those dirty detectives.