Maggie 6-2 (Patreon)

Cole lay his head on two bunched pillows at the foot of her bed. Legs crossed, feet bare, he held in one hand a glossy paper-bound study guide that said LSAT in purple capital letters. The spine dug into his stomach just above the button of his shorts, the hood of his sweatshirt cowled around his messy blonde hair.

He said, “There’s seven piano students—Tammy, Uli, Vic, Winslow, Xavier, Yannick, and Zoe.”

She said, “Okay.”

“T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z.”

“I know. I got it.”

“Okay. So the instructor is deciding the order in which they’ll play at an important recital.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They all will play one solo, but of course, each student has restrictions.”

“Typical,” she scoffed. “Fucking pianists.”

His eyes peered at her over the top of the study guide. “Fucking penis?”

“Pi-a-nists,” she giggled and grabbed his big toe. She lay with her head on her pillows, legs also bare, and she wiggled her feet to the side to bat his thigh.

Thunder rumbled outside and a gust of wind sent rain splashing against the windows of her dorm room. Both their heads turned to the grey-green wash outside and watched until the wind settled and the room grew quieter.

Cole continued. “Pi-a-nist. Makes more sense. Okay, Maggie: X can’t play first or second, W can’t play until X has played, Z has to play seventh, T has to play after Y, and W has to play right after X.”

“Whatever.”

“Now, the question is: if U plays third, what is the latest position in which Y can play?”

While her eyes darted back and forth over the ceiling, her hand still clutching Cole’s foot, her mind put the letters in some semblance. She sorted the possibilities.

“Uh. Sss-six. Yeah, sixth.”

He let the study guide drop over his crotch and scowled at her. “You don’t even write these down.”

“Some of them I would have to. Was that an easy one?”

“Intermediate,” he mumbled.

“Give me another one.”

“What’s the point? You even need to study?”

“Of course I do. You don’t want to help me anymore?”

“I do. I do. You’re seriously impressive. We’ve got all day and I’ll give you any help you want,” he said, bringing the book back up.

“You want to take a break?”

His eyes went up as he thought. He said, “You want to go grab some lunch? Let me buy us a pitcher and a pizza ...”

Rain lashed at the windows again and they both looked to see the sky blurred amid rain driven sideways against the dorm. “I’m not going out in that.”

“You don’t have an umbrella?”

She laughed at the thought of the two of them trying to huddle under a small Burberry umbrella while the rain came in sideways under it. “Can we order in?”

Cole nodded. “No one delivers beer.”

“Mm, it’s too wet out. Altieri’s for dinner?”

He smiled and nodded, said, “Skip lunch? Work up an appetite?”

She regarded him with a plain expression, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth but she tugged back. “I told you Max wants me to be good while he’s gone.”

The LSAT book dropped flat again over his crotch, and he said, “I know. I meant a study appetite.”

“Okay, okay,” she cooed. She brought a foot up and lay it on his thigh, rubbed it up and down.

His hand lay on it, warm and welcome. He stroked her from her toes up past her ankle. He said, “Though with Max, I mean, like, what’s ‘good,’ right?”

She gave a breathy chuckle, watched his hand on her ankle.

His eyes watching where he touched her, he said, “You and Max ever talk about having some babies?”

She nodded, said, “You come visit and bounce them on your knee?”

“Can you picture that?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what?”

She shrugged her shoulders into the pillows she lay on, said, “Then what, what?”

“Then Max takes Max Jr. and little Maxine out for ice cream so Cole and mommy can fuck?”

She laughed out loud, a bright guffaw to the ceiling that took her by surprise. She slapped a hand over her mouth, then said, “Hoo, wow. Think so?”

He smirked, ran his hand higher, massaged her calf. “That how we’re going to play this?”

“Just till the wedding, Cole...”

“It’s a long life we get, Maggie. Decades. You’re going to spend decades without your Cole?” He lifted her foot now and gently kissed her toes. She curled them, scrunched his lips and squished them closed.

“Stop it,” she laughed.

“Mm, I can’t be without my Maggie.”

“Your Margaret?”

“Oh, you want to play?”

She shook her head no. “Max said I had to be good.”

“You told him this was open.”

“He said be good.”

“Did he say we shouldn’t fuck?”

“No. It’s just ... it’s weird, ‘cause he’s, you know, visiting his parents.”

“So?”

“So, I love his parents. He’s doing family things. I want to be open, but my sweet Maxy ...”

“Aw, I miss my bad Maggie ... sentimental Maggie is—”

“Shit,” she hissed and clapped her hands, jumping off the bed, digging her heel into his thigh before she leaped.

Cole clutched his heart and laughed, “Jesus, Maggie, you scared the shit out of me, what the f—”

“I know, I know,” she babbled, electric current running through her. Drawers were pulled open, sketchpad thrown to the bed, tin of French pastels following closely after. Cole’s eyes followed her movements.

“Let’s take a break,” she said.

“What?”

“I’ve never drawn you.”

“No, you ...” It dawned on him then. He moved himself closer to the edge of the bed, put his feet on the floor. “You mean ...”

“Yeah, I’ve never drawn you. Why have I never ...”

“What do you want?” he asked her.

She smiled and giggled and didn’t need to explain.

Cole stood, and already had the sweatshirt over his head, his arms struggling and elbowing underneath, trying to get it off. “I’m fucking honored, Maggie,” he said under the cotton.

* * *

The plane left Albany at 6:45 A.M. yet it was 6:00 A.M. when he arrived at his destination. It was too early to eat again; he was still stuffed from the Denny’s.

From the airport he’d walked to Lindbergh Field then caught a bus that took him into the city. From City College Station it was a short streetcar ride to where he was staying. It was too early to check into the hotel so he walked down to the park that surrounded the marina. Weather was a lot better than chilly Vermont. Seventy and sunny, forecast for eighty. He sat in the park and watched the boats in the bay.

At around 8 A.M., he phoned back east, calling his brother, Connor, who he assumed would have slept off whatever hangover he’d earned on a Friday night at Northwestern.

“What’s up, player?”

Connor groaned, “Who is this?”

“Your liver. I fucked off to Cuba to get some rest, calling to say I’m not coming back.”

“Max?”

“Rise and shine.”

The phone jostled against fabric as his brother rolled over in bed. Connor yawned, grunted, said, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Around eleven.”

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, man. Listen, mom and dad went to Lexington to visit Aunt Amy, right?”

“Yeah. Everything okay?”

“It is. I told Maggie I went home to visit mom and dad, but I didn’t. I’m out west to arrange a surprise for her.”

“Okay ...”

“Yeah, so, should anything come up, should she call looking for me or something, say she couldn’t get a hold of mom and dad or me ...”

“What the fuck are you up to?”

“Just act like you know I went home, okay? Then track me down.”

“Are you going into space or something? Like, why wouldn’t she be able to call you?”

“Relax. She’s not going to call. I just have visions of her calling the house, no one’s there, my phone’s dead or something, she calls you ...”

“And I say mom and pop are in Lexington. Where are you? What’s ‘out west’?”

“San Diego.”

“A surprise for Maggie in San Diego. What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You are one sneaky motherfucker. Always were.”

“Thanks, Connor.”

He shot the shit with his brother for a while, turned out he had a lady friend in bed with him. When she wanted breakfast Connor said to Max, “Stop harassing me, for fuck’s sake,” then hung up on Max while he was mid-sentence. Abruptly hanging up on each other was always sure to bring a smile to one of the Milton brothers. Not the one hung up on though Max smiled anyway.

At 9 A.M. his stomach was ready for lunch and he went to the Starbucks in the Hilton where he’d booked a room. Afterward he found a space that rented lockers and he put his heavy peacoat and bag away. When it was 10 A.M. he knew the symposium would be under way so he walked the concourse, heading from the Hilton to the convention center.

Admission was $45 for students, and they wrapped a pink strap around his wrist. This was the Industrial Biotechnology Expo, a two-day event hosting big players and small players in the emerging Bio-tech business. Pretty much a business/retail convention, but it also attracted keynote speakers in a symposium, hosted in smaller galleries in the outskirts of the show.

Max worked his way through the bustling halls until he was at the north end, dodged right at the impressive and packed CRISPR booth and emerged in a two-story corridor at the foot of dual escalators. Ahead were open double doors, a sign on a chrome stand out front told him this was the gallery he searched for.

He slipped into the nearly packed room and took a seat at the back row, on the aisle. As late-comers arrived, and attendees got themselves comfortable, Max scanned the room. A third of the way from the podium, almost dead center, he saw a young man with the right hairstyle. He wore a white Oxford button-down and sat next to another young serious-looking Asian male. When the guy in the white Oxford turned he saw that it was indeed Ken, Maggie’s brother.

The lights dimmed, and a spotlight was turned on above the podium. A guy in a suit with an event badge swinging on a lanyard came to center stage and announced the speaker. A casually dressed middle-aged Chinese man took his place at the podium. The room went quiet and the ‘talk’ began.

Dr. Yingxu Peng-Sheng from the National Sun Yat-sen University in Taiwan was the speaker. Something about the use of electrons and laser beams in bio applications. Max hung with it for a while but it got esoteric fast and it wasn’t long before his eyes began to flutter. Up all night with Maggie, awake at four in the morning, a massive greasy breakfast, a flight, a listless morning, all conspired to take him down. He dozed.

* * *

Sketchbook on knees, feet on bed, smirk on face, she watched Cole get naked. This was the first time she’d seen him naked like this in such a plain matter. Usually their times together were hot trysts, rich with forbidden lust, when they undressed Cole was erect, and she had dampened her panties; when she wore them.

Now she watched this amazing boy in her life lit with even grey light that fell into her room warbled with sheets of rain that beat on the glass behind her. Trim, fit, beautiful skin; his hips were narrow, his stomach lean, his ass perfect and round, pale against the summer tan he still held though was beginning to fade. He turned, and she saw him fully exposed.

The slightest look of apprehension tensed his features. Like he looked for her approval, worried about it. There was nothing to be ashamed of. She loved his penis. It was big, but unaroused it wasn’t so intimidating. Cole was a grower. That look in his eyes as he watched her expression as she took his bare body in, lit with bright undramatic grey, he exposed to her a tiny sliver of vulnerability. It swelled her heart in her chest and she felt fathomless warmth for her lover and best friend.

An unstoppable smile pulled her lips wide, and she felt suddenly embarrassed and hid her face behind her sketchbook, an uncontrollable giggle wriggling up through her and making her shake.

“Lost your nerve,” he said, “afraid you’ll never capture this male perfection?”

She sat up straighter, ran her hair back, pencil poised between two fingers of her right hand. She looked in his eyes and said, “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Jesus, Maggie,” he said, flinching at her words. “I expected a joke, not something so ...”

“Honest?”

“Well, shit, how you want this beautiful body posed?”

“Be creative.”

“I should probably do some push-ups or something first, get a pump going ...”

“Just pick a pose, already.”

“It’s going to take a while, so I’ll sit.”

“That’s perfect.”

As he got a knee on the bed, she stopped him.

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen your penis soft before.”

“That’s your fault.”

“Let me see it.”

“Up close?”

“Let me see it.” She leaned her elbows on her knees, chest pressing her sketchbook against her thighs and watched Cole walk closer on his knees. He smirked, looking down as she darted her eyes to his. She smiled sheepishly.

He said, “Go on and look. I don’t mind. It’s not going to be soft for long.”

“I can’t draw erections. Long story.”

“You get in trouble already? ... been drawing hard-ons, you little perv?”

Moving her eyes back to his fat hanging penis, she said, “Let’s try to keep this classy.”

“You might have picked the wrong model.”

“You’re the right model.”

He presented it to her boldly, his hands resting on his hip bones that vulnerability gone and her confident Cole returned. She examined him. Completely flaccid, it hung lower than his scrotum, foreskin hiding the end of it, his balls large and oblong. They were bigger than Jay's, bigger than Max’s. She dipped her head to the right, cocked it so she could peak into the foreskin but saw nothing, just the ruffled pink folds. She sat back straight again, and he said, “Okay?”

She nodded and gave him a funny smile, said, “I like it.”

He laughed, said, “Well, that's good,” and let himself fall back on her bed, his rump bouncing until he sat at the headboard, his genitals slapping between his legs. He fluffed some pillows and put them behind his back, put an elbow up on her headboard, moved his shoulders around so he rested against it. “How's that? Can I put my elbow up on here?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Does it show off my abs?”

“I can’t see your abs,” she laughed

He looked down and ran his other hand over his tight midsection, his chin down to his chest. He grunted, “No, you can’t—I should've dieted if I knew you were going to do this.”

“You're so vain.”

“What? If my girl is going to capture me for posterity I want to be at my best.”

She worked the pencil over the paper without touching, just her fingertips exploring all the space, preparing herself for what she would do. She said, “I want to draw you how I know you.”

Cole's eyes grew sultry while his mouth still smirked with confidence. His hand fell between his legs and held his penis, manipulated it.

“What are you doing?”

Cole said, “Making myself how you know me.”

She lowered her eyes, broke the spell cast by watching his penis in his own hand. “I’d like to start drawing, please.”

“Okay,” he said, his hand coming away and resting on the mattress now. She began to draw, her fingers bringing the pencil closer to the paper and lightly declaring positive and negative space. The space were Cole would exist and not exist on her paper. Her eyes moved steadily from subject to paper and back again.

His penis buckled. She stopped. Cole was expressionless, and she smirked. His penis extended slowly, lengthening, rising to tap along the inside of his tanned thigh. He held her gaze and shrugged, showing her his arousal was inevitable. That maddening smirk of his returned again, stormy light sparkled in his narrowed eyes.

It brought a strange dread that chilled her stomach. Memories of Jay rising up inside. That boy she fucked, or rather, let fuck her, because she was inexperienced. She’d had no feelings for Jay, only a carnal curiosity. She’d wanted that so bad, wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with him. And her Max allowed it. Now, with Cole in her life, loving her and supporting her just as Max did, those moments with Jay seemed so strange and dark. Jay seemed like a stranger now, and in a way she regretted sleeping with him. Their times together amounted to a one-night-stand, and while that experience was something she’d wanted, now having it, she regretted it.

And here, before her, came the same experience that had launched that affair. A figure model who just couldn’t keep his beautiful penis from growing under her gaze. It was a compliment. She’d drawn in groups before, had plenty of male models (none anywhere as exciting as Jay or Cole), and no one had grown aroused before. Sure there had been movement, a lurching to the left or right, testicles that sagged and climbed, but it wasn’t until she was one-on-one that her men let their genitals get away from them. They wanted her to see their arousal. They were proud of their arousal. It made her pulse race. Knowing that her eyes on their bodies were enough to spark a full erection made her powerful and feminine. The intimacy of this situation, pretty girl, handsome boy, provoked something inevitable. This was biological finality. Two apex predators. If Cole and Jay grew to hardness in her simple presence that meant she was one of them. Maggie Becker was in their league.

As she drew, Cole’s penis continued gaining hardness. Her hand continued making light shapes on the paper and her eyes watched what happened between his legs. His penis lengthened, bobbed along his leg, eventually began to pull away from that support to stand on its own, though it bowed heavily. Then it lurched, swung quickly to the side like a door on a hinge until it tapped against the opposite thigh. Cole’s belly heaved as he laughed. “Sorry,” he said.

It bobbed and rose, first heading right her way, that blind ruffled end poking straight at her, then arcing, curving its back like it was doing yoga. Then up and up again, and it ended up on his belly pointing to his chest.

“It was inevitable,” Cole said, still holding her gaze with that sultry stare she couldn’t wait to put down on paper. It was inevitable. Just with Jay, even more so with Cole. “Draw it hard.”

She huffed with a small laugh, eyes on her paper. “Draw it hard?”

“Yeah, draw me with a big fucking boner.”

She giggled, eyes averted. “What’ll I do with that?”

“Do it. That’s how I want people to see me anyway, Maggie. Hang it up here,” he said, nodding to the wall next to her bed with his chin. “God, Max would love that.”

The pencil traced around the page, getting a feel for the space. “He would, I think.”

“It’s not going to stop now, Maggie. I can’t get it to go down. Draw it like it is.”

“Okay,” she agreed quietly. “This one will be for me.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

She stopped again, regarded him. She sat on her dorm room bed, alone with her friend and lover, feeling so warm and happy and safe, sequestered with him, a storm lashing at the windows. Wearing a cozy sweatshirt, comfy sweatpants, no socks, there was a constant excitement when she felt her bare foot touch Cole. Now she extended her legs, lay them flat on the bed, her sketchbook across her thighs. She slumped, let her back come down her pillows. A foot extended, her left, reaching out and her toes and the pads touched the belly of Cole’s cock. He stayed in his pose, watching her and she tried not to burst out laughing. It was easy because while she wanted to, her whole insides had been twisted up tight and hard.

Cole was a grower indeed, his cock now hot and wide and hard, almost as far across as her foot. With her toes she angled his erection, so it went up on an angle. She scrunched her toes just the slightest, pulling back his foreskin. Then her foot came away.

“What are you doing?”

She said, “I’m angling it,” her eyes on his manhood, surmising it like a serious artist would. It ticked like a minute hand, one click with each heartbeat, until it pointed straight up once more, letting her know it was twelve o’clock. She moved it again with her toes, felt the springy tension in it, his intense hardness shortening her breath and clouding her mind. As her foot came away, it slid right back pointing north.

“It won’t angle,” she whispered.

“No,” he agreed.

She bit her lip and shimmied herself up to the pillows again and raised her knees. “I wanted to draw your belly button, but your penis is in the way.”

“You like my belly button?”

“It’s cute. It has a certain fuzzy charm.”

“I like your belly button.”

“Yours is cuter.”

“I beg to differ.”

She lowered her knees until the light shone on her page the way she liked and she stared at the pastel shapes that would become her lover.

She said, “Yeah, mine is pretty cute.”

Her eyes returned to him, found him staring back into hers with overwhelming confidence. One arm up, draped over her headboard behind him, chin tucked, sexy eyes lowered to her gaze, beautiful lean and tanned body presented to her, a frighteningly thick erection jutting up between his legs; her tummy fluttered, and she had to look away, eyes down to her drawing.

Cole said, “This is probably a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Tell me we’re not going to be fucking in half an hour.”

“We’re not going to be fucking in half an hour. I have self-control, Cole.”

“Whatever. There’s no reason we c—”

“Shh-sh,” she shushed him. “I can’t draw your mouth when it’s moving.”

He laughed. “Such a bitch,” he murmured, making her smile and run her tongue out at him while her hand sketched his beauty onto the toothy paper.