Maggie 4.7 (Patreon)

Her chest and belly rolled up and down, a desperate whine laced her breath like an injured animal. Her neck pounded with her pulse. Max lay between her legs, the hump of his back rising and falling as quickly as her breaths. His pants were down his thighs, his cock inside her.

“Max... my bus,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he sighed near her ear.

“That was incredible,” she told him when he didn’t rise off her. She squeezed his arms.

“You are amazing,” he said into her neck.

“Max, baby, my bus...”

His head reared up, inhaling deeply, eyes lazy and half closed. He stared into her and she smiled. He said, “Stay. Don’t go. I can’t be without you right now.”

“You know I have to.”

“You were so incredible, Maggie. I loved watching you...”

“I saw you.”

“When?”

“Behind the little pine tree.”

“That the only time?”

She nodded.

“God,” he groaned long and sighing, thumped his forehead to her chest. “I want to do it all over again. I want to do it—”

“I have to go, Max.”

“Are you my bad Maggie?” he asked her.

“You know I am,” she whispered. “Who knows what I’ll get up to on the train...or in Rhode Island. Whatever I do, I might not ever tell you.” She darted her lips to him and kissed the tip of his nose. Her words had captured his imagination. She could see it in the blank and frozen shine it had put on his glossy eyes. She laughed, said, “I’m not going to call you or text you the whole weekend. And no jerking off while I’m gone.”

“You... you jerk someone...”

“What?”

“Jerk a stranger off... on the train...”

She gasped. “Max... You want me to...?”

“Do it, you little slut. Jerk off a stranger... call me tonight... tell me...” his hips began to moil against hers and she could feel he was still hard as steel.

“You’re so hard, Max.”

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said.

She smiled, her eyes gleamed. “I’ll jerk off a stranger but I won’t call. How’s that? Picture it. Maybe he’ll like my hand so much I’ll get off at his stop and he’ll take me to his apartment and do the dirtiest things to me...”

Max’s face hovered over hers, stuck in some erotic purgatory. He hated her words, but he absolutely loved hearing them and feeling what they did to his body. She felt it too, felt his excitement, his fear, his hardness pushing between her legs, still up inside her, slippery and steely. They could fuck all day.

She said, “Maybe I’ll spend the weekend in bed with another man. I’ll learn all about what makes him hard, what makes him come. I’ll show him what I like. Show him how to touch me, how to fuck me...”

“Just your hand, Maggie,” he whispered, his eyes blank and distant.

“I don’t know. I like my idea better.”

“Don’t...”

“I’ll see you Sunday, Maxy baby. I love you. But you really have to get off me. My bus is leaving.”

He took her lips and although her anxiety was rising sharply within her—a fear building in her over missing her bus and the catastrophe that would cause at home, the confirmation it would give her parents at her low character—she loved the feel of his mouth. She ran her hands over his back and allowed herself to enjoy it for two seconds. Then she was squirming from him, flexing her tummy to eject his erection from her.

Max scrambled up, gripping his cock with one hand, closing his pants over it with the other. The muscles of her legs felt cramped and her legs were wobbly. Quite the workout this morning. Sticky bubbles tickled her between her legs and she felt his semen leaking from her. It was stomach-rolling and at the same time pulse-poundingly erotic. She would sit on a bus all the way to Boston with her men's seed seeping from her. Her nipples clenched tightly at the thought.

“What?” he asked her, catching her staring at him while he was buttoning up.

She shook her head, tried to bring reality home again. “You know what Jess wants? I have to go... I can’t help you find it...”

“I have that picture on my phone. Some religious ark or something. I’ll find it...”

“How do I look?” she said, twirling for him.

“Fucking incredible,” he told her.

“No, seriously, Max... any telltale signs?”

“No...” he said, frowning and looking her up and down. “Your hair is messy...”

She smoothed it back, took her elastic out and redid her ponytail. “My legs, Max. Am I showing... signs?”

“Oh, Maggie,” he said, reeling at the realization of what she was asking him. He looked at her legs carefully all over and she felt strangely naked and exposed. Tightened her nipples right up again.

“Your skin went all goose bumps,” he said.

“I know,” she said. She crossed an arm over her chest under her poncho, “I’m still so... horny.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her again.

She whispered, “Feel my heart.”

He put his hand on her chest and she said, “Feel how fast it's beating.”

“You make my heart go crazy too, Maggie. Why...why do you have to leave?”

She laughed, “I’m buying my wedding dress.”

He groaned. There was no argument. They were going to be married. She needed a dress. Her mother would be waiting. You did not want to let Carol down. Max wasn’t invited. This was mother and daughter as weird as that was.

“There’s no way around it, Max.”

* * *

They scrambled out of the prop room and trotted back the way they came. Back at the Jeep, Maggie tossed him the key to the theater. They’d spotted the ark that Jess needed, but they didn’t have time to lug it out of the prop room. He’d have to return for it.

Maggie’s luggage was simple and unpretentious, a plain black nylon bag with a few items of clothing she needed. Everything else she might need would be at home. The bag was slung over his shoulder and Maggie grew noticeably upset when she saw the time on her phone read 1 P.M.

They ran to the front of the building, up a flight of stairs, under the yellow leaves of low-hanging branches. He yelled to her it wouldn’t leave on the nose. Told her not to worry. He hated to see her upset.

When they emerged from the path and out to the front dooryard of the theater they saw the big, blue, double-decker bus closing its doors. The motor charged high diesel revs as the driver prepared to lurch out onto University Lane.

“No, no, no,” he heard her whine with panic.

Accelerating past her, he threw his body against the side of the bus and slapped at the door as frantically, but as politely, as he could. The brakes hissed, the bus jerked. When the doors scissored open, he went straight to apologies.

“Sorry, sorry, so sorry.” The bus driver’s angry face stared down, but he was disarmed. With a wave, Max also apologized to the passengers he could see peering down on him from the seats near the front.

When he turned, he saw his poor Maggie, face flushed red with worry and embarrassment, hands clasped together at her front, thin fingers looped through the handles of her luggage.

“Aww,” he couldn’t help a cooing of affection for his little girl. He waved her to him and she stepped down off the curb. Putting his arms around her, he said, “It’s okay, we made it on time. It’s okay.”

She nodded, her chin poking him in his collar. Tears were briskly wiped from her cheeks as they pulled back, and Maggie averted her eyes. He kissed her forehead. “I got you here in time. It’s okay.”

“Thanks, Maxy,” she said softly, and she kissed him under his chin.

“I wish we had more time,” he sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.” Mostly though he wished they hadn’t done what they did right before she was to leave. In the sober resolve of his refractory period, he wished they had displayed more discretion. Somehow as their plan to watch her cheat came hastily, and dirtily, together there was no consideration of pragmatism. Once he had the visual in his mind of her and Jay together, pretending she was cheating, his belly, his balls, were steam driven engines being fed the fieriest coal. Once the talk had begun his lust was hurtling at breakneck speeds. Now it was done, and he was feeling some fear...not some fear, but honestly scared...that she was leaving.

Not that he didn’t trust her, just he didn’t want to be without her.

“Sorry,” she said over his shoulder, “We got lost, we ended up behind the building.”

Then into his ear, she said, “Maxy, I better go.”

“Okay,” he murmured, his turn now to feel red-faced, eyes welling with potential tears. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s just a few days,” she said weakly.

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, a smile tugged at her clamped and worried mouth.

They kissed one more time and he let her go from his tight grip. Climbing the stairs up into the big bus he watched her bare legs work. Saw up her skirt the exact right amount to surge excited life back into his tortured penis. A sudden, strong urge to jerk off in the Jeep hit him, but he'd told her he wouldn’t do that.

Then she was up, wiggling her fingers to him in a timid wave and the driver shut the doors between them. The motor roared, dust kicked up from under it, and he watched the behemoth lumber out to the road, signal left, merge onto University Lane.

He waved and smiled, but the windows were tinted jet black and he couldn’t see a soul inside.

* * *

Somewhere near Satans Kingdom, the bus snaking the 63 alongside the Connecticut River, she began to relax, and the tightness that had gripped her began to loosen.

While it was hot, what they had done worked away at her as she sat watching Vermont’s countryside pass by the glazed windows. When hatching this plot with Max, the idea that she would have to sit in public with her ‘dirtied snatch’ made her wild inside. Now she was doing it. The reality was not sexy.

She was sitting in a reserved seat, on the bus’s upper deck, facing two strangers, another one at her left. A narrow rubber table with cup holders stood between them on two tall aluminum legs. The man sitting next to her was middle-aged, buttoned-up, woven leather belt with his cellphone holster clipped to it. He was a dad. Across from her, on the left, was a woman who would be someone’s grandmother. Head kept down, she read a Danielle Steele novel so dog-eared Maggie was convinced she had bought it at a garage sale. Every once in a while her eyes would dart up and look at her over her wire-rimmed glasses and they would smile. Directly across from her was a guy about her age, heavyset, wearing all black despite the sunny weather. Tinny music bashed from his headphones while he read a Superboy comic. Every once in a while their feet would touch.

This morning she had sex with two different men. Both of them had ejaculated inside her. One of them had ejaculated twice. Inside her, and also all over her thighs and knees. The idea that she’d been sprayed with so much semen had begun to turn her stomach a little, and being in proximity with these relatively innocent and upstanding citizens had worked a nauseous bolus up from the acid of her stomach, higher and higher til it was wedged very close to her esophagus, somewhere near her collarbone.

Playing at her neck, her fingertips grazed along, trying to ease away some of the discomfort. Occasionally, a tingling, green wave washed over her. Her neck would go hot and wet and she thought she would have to go to the bathroom and vomit.

Every time one of them looked at her she recoiled. So frightened they would see her filth. Or her lovers’ filth. Some evidence of the absolutely, terrifyingly, dirty things she’d done this morning. Her legs were clamped so tightly together that even in the cool climate-controlled air of the bus she was hot and clammy, every slight movement reminding her with a waft of fresh cold air on the dampness the tight seal had created.

It was somewhere after the Massachusetts border, before Satans Kingdom, she couldn't take it anymore. She excused herself (not that any of the passengers she sat with cared), and went to the bathroom. Her reflection was ghastly. Instead of feeling sad and sick, feeling tragic and shameful, she chuckled. Brightened at watching her face smiling, the smile went wider. It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t that bad at all. The things they did, they did by will. Everyone wanted it. Everyone was in on it. Except for Jay, she supposed. Though he got what he wanted. Didn’t know he was being watched, but he got what he wanted. Boy, those things he said...

She balled up wads of rough brown paper, wet it with soap and scrubbed her legs, wiped at her folds gently. Took more paper, dried herself, dried her sex very well. Laughed at the funny faces she was making as she scrubbed, bent to the side with her hand stuffed up under her skirt. Having fun with it chased some of the sickness away and by the time she returned to her seat that lump in her throat that had threatened to launch her breakfast up and out of her crying mouth had disappeared. The sun was shining, she felt physically satisfied. She did homework.