Maggie 5-6 (Patreon)

Maggie sat side by side with Cole, her knees held together, her hands gripping each other, bound in her lap. She looked straight ahead, demurely, waiting for Cole to tell her what he wanted. Her nipples condensed to hard pointed buds, her lipstick worn off by her action, her lips engorged, puffed, agape. A look of fear crossed her face though she didn’t fear Cole. Maybe she feared herself, feared the bad thing they were doing. Good. That put him in control.

Cole idly stroked his cock, smirking at the side of her head, admiring her. He kissed her shoulder, and she sucked her bottom lip under her teeth, her eyebrows raising up in the middle.

“Now, lay back for me,” he said to her.She did, turning and then settling her back on the padded couch. She kept her legs together, her heels on the floor, her knees pressing against the side of Cole’s thigh. Her hands clasped to her sex, her ponytail hung over the edge of the couch and down to the floor. Cole got up, turned and put one knee on the leather bench and looked down on her.

“Show it to me,” he said.

The two of them sat in side view to the armoire and Max had clear sight of them. Cole considering how his friend would view the acts he would perform on his fiancée, controlling the stage and making a performance out of their tryst even though Maggie had no idea. A warm surge of guilt came through him—letting himself get talked into this.

It was hot. Hotter than any way he’d ever seen her before because this was real. This was Maggie uninhibited. This was Maggie with another man for real. Doing it for herself, not for both of them. Seeing her this way stabbed sharp and painful but it was so beautiful, so erotic, that he couldn't look away...would never even consider it; the sight of her like this so compelling he would give up anything to watch this play out. He had a profound love for her. He’d seen her change over the years they were together. Always his innocent Maggie, but now, something else emerging, and it was wild—because it had always been there, lurking behind the façade of her sweetness. Just like how he was discovering his own truth. How he wanted to watch. He had his façade as well.

“You can show it to me, Margaret,” Cole said. “Open your legs for me.”

Maggie let one knee open wide but her hands kept her mound covered. Then as she waited for his reaction, her hands slipped up and slowly revealed that private pink part of her. Slick and shining, lips engorged; perfection. And Cole told her.

Cole examined it, his eyes going up and down, his head tilting, Maggie regarding her friend as he assessed her secret space.

“You told me you wondered if it was nice... Margaret, your little pussy is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen and I’m not saying that to make you feel good.”

She nodded lightly, her fingers beginning to play through it while he watched.

“I’ve seen so many, Maggie. So many, and this one...is perfect.” He lowered to her and Max could see her belly tremble as she thought he was going to go down on her but he instead merely kissed her belly just below her navel. Her eyes rolled up wildly even at that contact.

Cole said, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she whispered.

He lowered over her, his hands on either side, his face over hers. Her legs began to lift, her knees coming up, opening herself to him, to the big thing thrusting up out of his fly.

“Tell me, Margaret, tell me the terrible things you want.”

“I...” she squeaked, stopped.

“Tell me,” he said again, and now he began to kiss her neck.

“Fuck me,” she whispered quietly, “fuck my... fuck my ass from the f-front, fuh-fuck me... kiss me and... a-and shove your tongue d-down my throat.”

Those awful words were like a cold glove clad in chain-mail, reaching into his chest, closing a ghostly medieval grip on his heart... He swore his heart stopped. His vision blurred and his operating systems were seizing up with too much data, his brain whined from feedback. He fell back in the empty armoire, his mouth fell open. A hatred for her stabbed through him and it scared the shit out of him. This was what he wanted. Every dark desire playing out in precision for him and now he didn’t want it. It was too dirty. He wanted her to be this kind of slut, but now he wanted to swipe everything off the table, tip it over and send it all crashing to the floor. Too much. Too much...

His eyes welled with tears but he wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t sad. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it back, lips literally trembling. Out of control like one cold night when he was eleven, and he went ice-fishing with his dad and brothers far out on Lake Leelanau. His hands frozen, his insides numb. He sat on the back of his dad’s snowmobile as they droned back to shore in the middle of the night with three fifteen-pound pickerel in an orange igloo cooler bolted on the back of Mike’s snow machine. He’d prayed they’d reach shore before he died, so sure he was on the verge of hypothermia yet not sure enough to cause a fuss and earn his father’s and brother’s chagrin. He just closed his eyes and hoped it would all be okay...

As Cole began to kiss her, that absence of life he’d just felt was replaced with a strange warmth. Slowly, as Cole worked himself closer between Maggie’s legs and she raised her knees higher and higher, her rump coming up off the bench and her heels pointing up to the ceiling his love for her began rushing in. New love, something Orphic. That cold abyss being filled with warm love swirling in eddies, gurgling, and bubbling. He saw her in a new light. His feelings for her would be forever changed in one moment—yet, hearing her darkest, dirtiest, most honest truth, he fell in love with her all over again. She was his Maggie, she had darkness, she had dirtiness, just like him. This was a gift to him to see her revealed like this, something a man would never get to see from his wife. No man would want to, not in his right mind. But Max knew deep down he loved this.

* * *

Cole’s hands gripped the back of Maggie's knees and he eased them up to her shoulders. That dirtiest part of her, from her clitoris to her anus, was point blank exposed to him. He lowered, making it slow and teasing; her face peeked between her knees and her expression was excited desperation.

When he suckled her folds finally, she cried out and thrust her head back. Cole worked her pussy, sucking on her mound, running his tongue from top to bottom, letting long swinging strands of spit stay connected as he pulled away. From the armoire, Max could see her legs shaking. Maggie alternated watching with gasping and tossing her head back. He could see her fingertips tugging at the top of her mound trying to keep the skin tight for her lover’s tongue.

Cole drew up then, leaving a long quivering string as he raised to his knees over her, let it draw thin until it dropped to her. Maggie's bound hands stroked between her legs. Cole took the tips of his fingers, pushing down and lining his cock up, then running the underbelly through her slippery folds. Maggie still watched, her mouth exercising silently, O shapes and E shapes, breath huffed through her nose. Her fingertips stroked the top of his cock, his foreskin pulling and peeling. She looked in his eyes and she nodded.

The tips of her fingers guided him lower, the fat glans sliding along her seam, lower, over her perineum, then prodding at her anus. Her head went back again.

Slowly Cole eased his thick cock into her and Maggie sighed and hissed, her face contorted in pleasure and pain, vocalizations came, urging Cole to continue.

When he was deeper she stopped him, her fingers slapping on her mound and crying out, “Oh, oh, easy, oh careful.”

He kept his cock at the depth he’d managed and lowered his mouth to hers. She kissed him hungrily. Maggie's pale naked skin was so stark against Cole’s dark suit. He had one foot on the floor still, one knee drawn up to her hips. Her knees were at her ears, her high heel shoes up over Cole’s shoulders.

Their long, passionate kiss broke, and they held each other's gaze, their faces still close enough to touch. His hips worked now, easing that thing in and out of her. She was nodding, her lower lip trembling.

“That’s it, Margaret,” he said, “that’s it. This how you wanted it?”

She nodded again, her eyes lowered, her chin jutted forward urging him to come and kiss her again.

He did, thrusting himself into her and taking her lips again. She blurted a muffled blast of air around his kiss. Still he pulled in and out of her slowly and deeply. They kissed, tongues working over one another, pausing to look into each other's eyes. They built it up, taking their time, he supposed to let Maggie's body accommodate him. After a long while their pace became a steady slow reaming and Cole was giving her what she'd asked for. He was fucking her ass and his tongue was down her throat.

Maggie was loving it though sometimes her face looked like she was in pain. She glistened with sweat, her fingers buzzed energetically over her own clit and soon she had built herself high again, ready for a huge release. Her mouth pulled from his, head thrust back, fingers grinding her clit at a manic pace, she snarled and hissed Yes, yes, yes, over and over and Cole raised up. He watched her face, watched her like a science experiment, witnessing all those private personal things that should just be for Max. Her head tossed from side to side and Cole kept his thrusts steady. Slow and deep. Maggie's legs shook wildly now, her breath came fast and loud, her chanting grew louder and quicker, ceased being words and became low unbroken moaning. She thrashed when she came. Kicking her legs against Cole's shoulders and twisting underneath him. She cried and groaned and as it subsided, she gasped for him to stop.

* * *

Cole withdrew his cock from her and she sighed. His head dashed between her legs at once, kissing her pussy, licking at her. It got her squirming again. Her hands clamped on her stomach, her knees still high, but now her feet bobbed loosely on her ankles, falling lazily without Cole’s shoulders to support them.

Then he rose again, big hand smoothing over her glistening vulva, held in a cup. He watched her face as he did it, his thumb extending downward and stroking her reddened anus. He kept that up, playing with her, running his hand back and forth over her shining pussy and Maggie loved it. Wordlessly twisting with his movements, mouth wide, then biting her lip, her eyes clamped shut. Max thought she would come again but soon Cole slowed. He took her ankle and pulled a leg down. Maggie’s head tilted forward, brow tense with worry.

“Up,” he said. “Up for me.” He hooked a finger on the band of his tie where it crossed over the gap between her bound wrists and he eased her up to sit. She eyed him intently. His fingers worked the knot of his tie undone and her arms came free. She rubbed at her wrists and they showed red lines from being tied.

He held the point of her jaw, his thumb pressed on her small chin. He said, “Margaret, I want you to go to the bathroom now. Okay?”

She nodded, watery eyes trembling as she listened.

“Hanging in there are two robes. Take the belt from one of them and put it in the sink. I want you to run hot water on it. Get it soaked. Wring it out, then bring it here to me. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Kiss me.”

She hunched forward, one hand holding his thigh, and watched his mouth as they came together and kissed. Just a light peck, simple and quick, but the sound of their wetness pressing together, the suction as they came away, drove another spike through him. He groaned as quietly as he could in the armoire.

As Maggie stood, a little knock-kneed and wobbly now in her heels after what she’d just done, Cole ran his hand up the back of her leg, caressed that ticklish spot below her rump and she shivered as she walked away.

Her expression was troubled. At once she was into it and also seemingly here against her own better judgment. But she did the things she feared anyway. Maybe hating herself for it. She stumbled out of his view, heading towards him and away to his left. Now there was only Cole.

His best friend Cole, sitting there in a dark suit looking more menacing than Max could have imagined. Putting on a show for their Maggie. Giving her what she wanted. Doing it, as they agreed, to give Max what he wanted too. Convinced him he wanted this—now, facing it, he wasn’t so sure.Their mating came with beauty—Maggie was magnificent—but there was too much subterfuge. Too much concealment. How would Maggie react if his presence was revealed?

Cole leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, hands coming together between his knees, interdigitated. His gaze settled on Max, focused on the space between the open doors, though Max was sure he couldn’t be seen. He was being philosophically seen. Their eyes stared at one another, and he noted a sadness on Cole’s face. His mouth set in grim resolution but there was a gleaming, watery melancholy there too. They stared at one another a long time and Max thought to say something but the fear of Maggie catching him in the armoire was intense. So his mouth worked dryly, making no audible sound other than a dry clicking.

Maggie reappeared. Cole’s eyes moved up to meet her as she returned. She was stunning in only high heels. Her legs long and thin and he’d never seen her look so adult, so womanly. Her ass cheeks flexed, gave off the tiniest jiggle with her steps. She came before Cole and she presented him with a dampened terry cloth belt in brilliant white.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “On your knees.”

Maggie squat low, put one knee on the carpet then the next, hands still extending her gift. Cole read her face, his hands working in circles, the tie wrapping around the knuckles of one, reversing, winding back around the other. He took the belt from her, said, “Turn for me, on your knees, go around and face the armoire.”

She scuttled around, working in a half circle on the points of her knees, her heels slipping on and off, showing glimpses of her reddened soles.

Max’s heart began to hammer as he sensed a betrayal. This was where Cole would reveal the pervert in the closet. The disgusting toad who tricked her into trothplight. This, Maggie? This lowlife is the man you’re going to wed? Are you sure? I’ve shown you better. His lips trembled again.

Maggie stared at the armoire, eyes unfocused, but pointing directly at the gap in the open door. He felt a strong urge to urinate.