Maggie 5-5 (Patreon)

“Keep your heels on,” he said. “I want you naked. I want you in heels.”

She nodded at his refection. Their eyes met again in the mirror and he worked her skirt higher, his hand gathering up its generous length; then he gripped it, raised the dress. Slowly her thighs were revealed, higher, the cleft of her tight shaved mound, glistening in the light. Higher still, showing her tummy, her tight navel...she cocked a hip, admired herself. Raising her arms, the dress came up, revealed her pink nipples, darkened to rose, hardened to taut buds. The fabric caught on one and as it pulled free sent the lightest jiggle through her meagre bosom. Then he had it off, and she was bare.

She pressed her back to him, felt the fabric of his suit, the strength of the body it concealed. His eyes worked up and down her naked form and it swelled her nipples painfully. Breath shallow and rapid, her eyes fluttered.

“Look at my beautiful little girl,” he said, a hand coming and tracing along her waist, up her ribs, cupping one breast. He smiled again, suckled at the nape of her neck. Her legs were on the verge of collapse. She was naked, pressed against his hard body, the rough fabric scratching at her soft skin. All she wore were her high heels, a thin Cartier watch, silver bracelets, and a diamond necklace her aunt and uncle had bought her for graduating high school.

Through narrowed eyes she watched herself held in her friend’s arms. Cole made her so thin and feminine. His arms went around her middle, hugged her tighter to him, his hardness against her back. Teeth bit and tugged at her flesh and she raised her arms for him, her nipples tightening painfully. She ran her hands through his hair and he cupped a breast, his thumb and forefinger testing her nipple’s arousal. She was falling to him, surrendering. The weight of her body slumped against him and he held her, supported her. She watched in the mirror as he lifted her, one arm across her stomach, the other scooping under her tender rump and supporting her like she sat in a saddle. He walked them backwards, she watched the couple in the mirror, in love with their abandon and the young girl’s sweet surrender.

At the foot of the tall grand bed there was a deep-brown, walnut and leather couch, and he sat on it, her back to him, she straddled his lap. One of his knees forced her legs wide, and she found herself split over only one of his thighs. Her hands came together between her legs and covered herself demurely. She felt her heat, her own oily wetness. Idly fingering her own folds she waited to see what he would do to her.

He brushed her hands away, annoyed, and she folded them across her tummy. His other hand took her throat, pulled her so she lay against him, her back on his chest, the crown of her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Her legs were open, one on either side of his right thigh, her heels planted apart, bestriding his polished shoe. Her head turned to him, she gazed into his eyes with longing and he kissed her again, and as their lips went over one another, his hand found its way between her legs, stroking and plucking at her folds. When his finger dipped deeply inside her again, she cried out into his mouth. His back braced against the footboard of the massive bed, she lay heavily against him, legs split, his hand working her soaking sex. The fire crackled and spit, and his manipulations made their own crackling sounds. Feverihly, he worked her, then slowed, smoothed her. Her heart pounded, raced so fast she would run out of breath...then he would ease. Still he kissed her. Soon he had her writhing against him, so close to coming that if she didn’t get it, she would scream. He kept promising her release then reneging, letting her pleasure wash away only to tease it forward, hungry and ready again. Knees bowing in and out, she panted, and he kissed her and bit her shoulder.

When he had her flat tummy bending in and out, rolling round then dropping flat, in and out like the Narragansett waves outside the window, he unzipped himself. She watched. Watched his fine hand pull the tab, heard the finely tailored sizzle as his fly released. Hand working in the flaps, he pulled out the thing she wanted. When he let it go it stuck up hard and eager from the open front of his fly. Glorious, erect, threateningly thick; the foreskin hung up crooked on the corona of his swollen glans.

Her hand reached out to it and when her small grip tried circling his size, he moaned and bit her collar. He had her moaning now too, and she began to stroke him, enjoying the effect her hand had on the shape of his cock while he resumed his plunging. He was rock hard and the hot feel of him had her biting both her lips into her mouth. The things he was doing to her between her legs had her movements clumsy and stunted in no time. Her stroke on his cock grew uneven, pausing, squeezing, going underhanded. Finally she released him, both hands flat on her tummy as he fucked her with his two middle fingers. Her pussy made sounds of suction and greasy bubbling. Her face pinched to an open-mouth scowl. She drew her knees up, her expensive heels lifting right off the floor. Cole was about to make her come. She rocked back and forth, her head slowly nodding and snapping back, and the things Cole did to her were bringing something huge and gargantuan; a rolling super-wave coming to shore in the night, a stormy breeze lashing at her, threatening to tear her hatches...

* * *

Max watched Cole make his Maggie scream in orgasm from a gap in the open door of the armoire. It was beautiful, and if his heart weren’t so clutched, he may have enjoyed it better.

The orgasm began slowly, building with precision. He watched his best friend dig his fingers inside her, eyes darting over her, reading her expression. Then Cole worked her. Worked her like he’d worked probably a hundred girls, using all his acquired skills to deliver pleasure to Maggie that she may never have had before. It was forbidden and taboo. So wrong. And that dirty depth gave her pleasure scale. This was his gift to her. Max gifted Cole’s abilities to Maggie.

Slowly, Maggie became an instrument on Cole’s lap. She was naked, him clothed. His sweet girl straddling one of his thighs, her legs open, her mound pushed forward hungrily. Cole fed it. Fed it his big fingers and their experienced touch.

Her legs began to wind in and out, her expression became forlorn and simultaneously winsome. Her beauty was perfect. There had never been a more exquisitely formed face. He ached for her.

Cole’s cock came out. Thick and impressive. Maggie watched it in her grip; the thing so thick her dainty hand only formed a C around it. She explored it, stroked it. Her action grew clumsy as Cole brought her to a magnificent precipice. Her face closed off, her eyes squeezed shut. That face told him something huge was building. Her lips pursed, her cheeks ballooned. Then her thin legs were kicking up, feet coming off the floor. She screamed a long cry as she came, twisted on him, her thighs clamped shut on his hand. He still controlled her, held her to him and let her squirm. His hand still manipulated her, still stroked and moved even though she had him clenched tight. She was gasping and sobbing happily, a high whine whistling in her heaving breaths.

Cole held her until her movement stilled, and all that remained of her orgasm was the rapid rising and falling of her chest. She had grown a shine that shimmered like velvet in the fire’s light and he couldn’t imagine a more perfect image of his fiancée.

Cole brought her awake again with kisses. Starting at her ear, along her jaw, he got her head roused, her chin pointing up so she would let him take her lips. They kissed again. Maggie’s arms were lazy and uncoordinated, still reeling from the incredible orgasm their friend had delivered to her. One hand played over the back of his as it still held her between her legs. The other arm bent, the hand up, her fingers scratching through his long hair that had fallen free from its brushed control.

The hand between her legs slowly came up. It shone from Maggie’s sexual excitement. He had her incredibly wet. But she was a sexual girl and prone to sexual flux. His middle finger drew a line up her belly leaving a slippery trail that shone back to Max. The finger traveled higher, between her breasts, along her collar, up the long tendon of her neck. He put it in her mouth and she sucked. She did it sensually, her eyes closed, her sharp jaw angled, posed, trying to look good for Cole while she performed. She sucked his finger as impressively as she’d done that night on the beach when she’d sucked his cock.

* * *

Maggie slumped in his lap. Her body drifting down his, like she was growing heavy or tired. Her face twisted with something sad, and it struck him that she was reluctant to do the things she was doing. And was going to do.

The restraints that bound her to her Max had come unshackled, and for the evening Maggie belonged to his best friend. That sadness in her face made his heart call to her. He wished he could go to her, tell her it was all right. Tell her to enjoy it, but that was against the point. So he watched her slide between Cole’s legs, her back passing over his crotch, and she sat her bare butt on the floor, mournful eyebrows bowed, her knees poking up, her ankles twisted in the highest heels he’d ever seen her wear. One of her hands played with a bangle on the opposite wrist. Then she was turning, legs folding, her head coming around between Cole’s legs. His cock stuck up straight and hard and she ran her tongue up the underside.

“Oh fuck, Margaret, that little tongue...”

She continued to bathe him, letting her tongue explore his shape. Traveling from where it emerged from his fly, up to the tip, poking into his hole and then slipping right back down.

“That’s it, Margaret,” Cole encouraged. “Get it so wet. You want it wet when I fuck you?”

She nodded, her mouth coming up to the top again, slipping over his glans and tugging on his foreskin with her lips.

“Suck it, Margaret. I’ve never had a blowjob like the one you gave me last week. That’s it, suck it,” he said and now his hands came to her head and braced her, guiding her down his shaft.

“I thought about that blowjob all week long,” he sighed as Maggie worked him. She went up and down, making wet slurping and suckling noises. She was on her knees before him. Servicing him. Completely naked except for heels and jewelry, and the sight of her like that, the woman he loved so much, had his heart pounding and his cock as hard as steel. She was so incredible.

Her hands came up, stroked his shaft as she bobbed on just the glans now, plopping up and down, his foreskin rolling and stretching. Cole let his legs stretch out a little as he lost some of his control. Maggie’s mouth was unbelievable; like she loved to perform the act. Cole reeled it in, struggled to keep his power over his sexual partner. He scooped his hair back, sat straighter. Maggie had leaned into him, drawing forward on the points of her knees, her fingers raking up Cole’s midsection, turning to claws on his chest. His suit jacket was open and her fingers dented his white shirt.

Cole undid his tie, his hands working slowly, his face turned up to the chandelier above them, making expressions of extreme pleasure. When the tie was undone, he whisked it through his collar in one quick swipe. Then held her head a while as she did something special to his cock that Max couldn’t see but could tell was driving Cole wild.

When Cole got the strength, his hands slipped up her bare arms, along to her wrists. He gathered them together on his chest, wound the tie around them and Maggie let him do it, held them posed for him to make it easy. He cinched them up tight, tugging on the dense knot he’d made.

Her cock sucking continued, increasing in intensity, her head working in circles, thrusting him deep in her mouth. The tendons in her neck stood out, the muscles of her back shone in the flickering golden light.

Cole’s head leaned far back, his mouth falling open, he smoothed her hair as she continued. He said, “Okay, ah, okay, Margaret, that’s a good girl. If you’re not careful I’m going to come in your mouth.”

She didn’t stop, her head still bobbing with enthusiasm, her bound hands gathered on his chest.

He took the sides of her head, eased her up, let her lips plop off the end of him and his cock fell back against his belt buckle. Cole looked in her eyes, said, “You want me to come in your mouth?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Say it.”

“I want you to come in my mouth, Cole.”

He smirked, his eyes glinting in the firelight, and his thumbs caressed her cheeks underneath her eyes. “Margaret, Margaret, what are we going to do with such a bad girl?”

She didn’t smile, but she made a breathy sigh, turned her head in his grip and averted her eyes.

“Come up here,” he said. “Come up and sit on this bench with me.”