Maggie 6-7 (Patreon)

“I think he’s mad at us.”

“No. He can’t be,” she said.

“He hasn’t returned a single text, Maggie.”

“They’re probably out doing something together. I think his sister is home, I bet they went out somewhere for brunch and they’re not even home yet.”

“He has his phone with him.”

She groaned and lay her cheek on his chest. She still straddled him, his cock was still throbbing at her entrance.

Cole said, “I can’t believe I’m the one trying to wreck this. I just want to fuck so bad right now, but I don’t want to hurt Max’s feelings.”

“He likes it, I swear.”

He ran his hands over her back. “If you say so. You already told him. We’ve fucked behind his back be—”

“Not behind his back, Cole.”

“Kind of behind his back.”

“That’s not true. We’re not having an affair ...”

He was silent for a while and then his hands went in circles again, rubbing her warm dry sweatshirt over the muscles of her back and her eyes began to narrow with the delightful comfort that brought. However, between her legs she was very aware of his arousal, unwavering, throbbing. She wanted Max to return a text so badly.

He whispered, “You know you and I are a couple.”

“Couple of what?”

“Come on.”

“What?” she giggled.

“You’re meant to be with me.”

“Cole ...”

“I’m not trying to steal you from Max. You’ll come to me on your own.”

“Come on, Cole,” she said, patting his chest and sitting upright so she could look at him. She found his face serious. He wasn’t joking around, wasn’t teasing her or being playful.

“You know it’s true, Maggie. I don’t want to hurt Max, but you and I are perfect together.”

The underside of his cock slipped across her again, making her eyes flutter. Next to them, face up on the bed, Cole’s phone sat black and faceless, no word from the boy she agreed to marry. Her hips worked her pussy up his hardness.

“Maybe ... maybe we could ...” Her voice trailed to a dry, empty croak. Her eyes had stayed on his, but they lowered now to his masculine pouting mouth, those beautiful berry lips. She drew closer. What was the rest of her sentence? Maybe we could what? Fuck just a little? Maybe we could only do anal again? There wasn’t anything to say. Her lovely Max was away with his mom and dad and his bad fiancée had pretty much entered into a romantic relationship with his best friend. And one rule she gave herself: keep your hands off him while Max is at home.

She put her lips so close to his; she could feel their heat, feel the soft breath from him. “Maybe ... we could show Max. Show him some more. Maybe we’ll do it for him.”

Cole took her mouth tenderly then, and she floated off, an ecstatic arrhythmia taking control of her heart. She sucked on his lower lip while he stroked her upper with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll do anything to be with you,” he whispered. “Whatever it is we’ll do it, Maggie ...”

She sensed it coming, and she put up a makeshift wall: “Don’t say it, Cole ...”

“Maggie, I love you.”

“Oh, no, Cole, don’t ...”

“I love you so much ...”

The force of that wave washed her crummy construction away, threw her clumsy rock wall down and cast the stones far up her coast. He was taking her now, sitting up, rolling over on top of her and she let him. Went to her back and lay her head on the mattress, exposed her neck, enfolded her lover in an embrace. Her knees drew up.

Cole hooked a forearm under one and it exposed her sex completely. She felt his arousal between her legs, felt that fat glans of his resting in her folds, slipping up and down the curve of her mound as he took her mouth with kisses. She wanted him inside her so bad, wanted to be consumed by him, wanted to lose herself in passion with a boy who was her best friend. One as close to her as her very own Max, one who rocked her world and did mind-bending things to her sexually.

She whimpered suddenly seeing her Max so diminished. She saw him so small now, so small in comparison to the man she was with, the man who was his best friend. All three of them sharing a close and wonderful friendship, her heart as open to Cole as the boy who put a ring on her finger and she’d promised herself to, who had given her licentious license. But Cole was no more merely a friend and these days though she loved him depthlessly Max’s disparity to Cole in the sack was pronounced. Maybe she’d not thought of it, pushed it away for a long time, but it was true and she couldn’t turn her cheek from it.

She humped her clit against the weight of Cole’s cock and ran her nails up and down his back. He groaned into her kiss and his hips wound back, the tip of his cock slipping along her wet folds and finding her entrance. She threw a leg around his waist, the other held back as Cole pressed her knee up to her collar. Then he entered her and there was something about his cock inside her body that made her feel complete.

She’d been so wet with need his girth made no pain, his whole length sliding deep inside her body, seven thick inches buried inside her, making her heart pound, making it beat faster and faster.

“Ah, God, Cole ... just hold it there,” she breathed and shut her eyes, ran her fingernails through his thick blonde hair, every interior muscle massaging her lover’s organ, feeling every bit of it, sensing every vein, every cable; could feel the shape of its head distinctly moving inside her like a knot, his foreskin peeled right back by her tightness. “Hold it,” she urged again, feeling a tension in him, feeling his desire to fuck her building, knowing he wanted to thrust it in and out of her. Cole had stamina and discipline, and he let her sculpt his cock with her insides, let her membranes squish and squeeze on him, the slightest slip of their sexes now zipping white lines behind her eyes. “Ah, fuck, oh,” she finally gasped when her stomach muscles cramped with the effort. “Oh, Cole, oh, fuck me.”

Then he withdrew and plunged his full-size again, going deep and holding, and as she tried to squeeze him again, he withdrew and plunged once more. It got her gasping, soft, breathy sounds as he did it over and over. Withdrawing his full-size till the tip of him came right out and then back in, spreading her wide and deep. He gripped her behind the knee with one strong hand and pushed so that the knee touched her ear. She cried out with pleasure. She exposed herself to his impaling. In and out, fully each time, tip to balls, until he had her yelling. Calling his name and babbling in his year, her nails scratching at his neck to pull him for another kiss.

He fed her his tongue, and she took it, opening her mouth and sucking him inside as willingly as she was doing between her legs. “Aw, that’s it,” she gasped around his tongue, the plunging between her legs driving her wild.

Then he took his hand and slid it inside her thigh, gripped the opposite knee now as well. Guiding it up so that it was over her ear, too. Above her she only saw his face, his chest, her calves. Cole looked in her eyes as he slowed his pace, became gentle and easy and it had her moaning. She stroked the backs of her thighs with her hands, then his hips, her nails running along his skin.

“Yeah, more,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure what more she wanted—just more of everything. Regretted now studying today, wishing that if she were going to give in she had given in earlier, and they could’ve made love all day long, right through the phonecall with her mother.

She worked her hands between her knees, brought them up so she could cup her lover’s face. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, her mouth hanging open, and Cole went in and out of her.

She whispered, “I want to be on top of you.”

He let one knee down so he could caress her face. He stroked her cheek with a thumb as she did to him, hips stirring gently into her. He didn’t say anything just licked his lips, lusty eyes drilling into hers. Then he was withdrawing, and when his penis was out of her she complained about its absence, whimpering and frowning. But he drew up rapidly, holding her by her hands until they were face-to-face on their knees. He cupped her neck and kissed her deeply. She let her hands stroke his body, her nails dancing across him, drifting low to his hips then between his legs. One hand stroked him and the other ran her nails over his hanging balls. It got Cole groaning.

He was a masterful lover, and she loved it when he took her. But that was the greatest thing between them. The lovemaking was always different. Capable of great and wonderful dichotomy. She could bend to him, let him tie her hands up and fuck her lifeless body. Make her squirt all over a window at an expensive hotel. They could be playful, engage in silly games of nudity and teasing. They ran the gamut. And just as he could dominate her she could dominate him, too. He was no weakling, and he wanted to explore a dominant woman like her. It wasn’t in her, at least not at the surface. But something in his eyes drew it from deep inside her. A caged little tiger, at once timid and yet curious peeking out past the door left open.

He sat back down, letting his butt drop between his heels then kicking his feet out and she fell toward him, her hands on his chest and his lips on hers still. Now she was over top of him, climbing up his waist, her mouth still working over his. She reached behind, got a handful of testicles, fondled them and gripped them hard until he grunted. Her hand eased up the shaft, gripped him lightly now and angled him toward her interior. She stroked herself with him, gripping in the middle and moving it up and down so that his covered tip slipped back and forth in her slippery labia.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned and laughed around their kiss.

She groaned too, teasing him had her as mad as she intended to drive him. Now she was smiling and looking in his eyes. She pierced herself with the round helmet, his stiffness intense enough that she could let him go and hold his shoulders and look in his eyes as she sat herself back on his hips, feeling every bit of him grinding up inside her body again. She exhaled wonderful joy, and let him see the beatific expression on her face, wanting to communicate to him the enormous love between them.

Cole was devastatingly handsome. It was undeniable, everyone knew when they saw him. His rugged jaw, stubble, deep and soulful yet piercing blue eyes. The tan of his tight skin, the golden blond of his long hair—his beauty was undeniable. Almost unachievable, out of reach, meant only for the most lucky. Only she didn’t feel lucky riding him. She felt like she was one with him. Had been his friend for so long. A friendship that was deep and loving and trusting and now they shared each other physically. His head lay back in her pillow where she slept every night. His thick blond hair spread out around him, those beautiful eyes narrow and twinkling in the stormy light.

Her mouth fell open, her breaths were short and quick. His big penis was inside her, right up in her belly, and she was in control of it. She rocked her hips on him, felt that knot of a glans working up and down inside her. And then he held his hands out for her to take them and her heart swelled in her chest. She laced her fingers between his, gripped him tight and he held her loosely, let her dig her nails into the back of his hands. She sunk deeper then, on her knees, rising up and down on him, feeling him slipping in and out, she got herself gasping. Her lover lay under her, his arousal like steel, his eyes burning into hers.

“Oh,” she gasped, suddenly feeling a slippery quicksilver snake wriggle up from the apex, somewhere low, somewhere gynecological; winding a corkscrew up around her heart, then over the back of her scalp. She looked down and saw her nipples turn to hard brown buds. Cole saw it too, and he whispered her name as she felt his hips began to rock into hers, giving her a rhythm to syncopate against.

She fell forward over top of him, her hair scratching over his shoulders, around his cheeks, and she took his lips.

She had it.

She had complete control of it.

Her breath scored in and out of her nose and she squished him inside her, finding the perfect path of her hips, grinding her clitoris in his pubic hair, that helmet of his pushing against the front wall of her membranes, stiff and hard, a point of pressure for her to work against. He held himself stiffly for her, looked in her eyes and she met his gaze through narrow slits until her breath came in gulping snorts.

He whispered, “That’s it, Maggie, let me watch you come.”

His words were all she needed to get a leg up over that big old wall and throw herself to the bottomless other side, falling and falling, the wind whipping her hair, a pleasure so enormous and boundless all around her. She humped faster and faster, her eyes fluttering, gasping and grunting until she fell on him, her face buried in that thick hair, her nose on his earlobe.

* * *

She saw Cole as a fuzzy, burnt umber silhouette against a pale fog. Her eyes blurred and phosphorescent blobs bloomed and blossomed, wandering in her vision and flaring with the beat of her heart. Somehow Cole was above her and she didn’t remember getting herself onto her back. His hands caressed her face and slowly his handsome face came into focus.

“I do love you, Maggie. I loved you as a friend for a long time but now I really know you ...”

Her mouth hung open and the rasping noise she heard was her own breath, her chest heaving up and down. She nodded her head, acknowledging those wonderful words. Then slippery electric excitement zipped up from her heart again, the head of his cock slipping back and forth over her opening. She nodded for more, and then he was entering her, bringing her right to the edge of that wall again. She gasped and gulped his name, dug her nails into his shoulders as she felt him slide deep inside her once more.

“Oh, Cole,” she whispered.

Her nails dragged around behind his neck, she clutched herself to him as he impaled her deeply, withdrew and did it again. He fucked her like that, very slow, very deep, and very loving. Working in and out with inexorable certainty. Each thrust, each withdrawal racing her heart.

She heard the wetness between them, heard her sex opening like a slick flower, accepting him fully. Soon her hips were working, her tummy rolling, her pelvis tilting forward and up, being pressed back, tilting forward and up, eager to be penetrated again. His thumb still caressed her jawline, and now she ran her nails down his arms, pinching the backs of his hands, clutching them, pulling them to the side. He did, intertwined their fingers, spread her arms wide.

She opened her mouth and tilted her chin to the ceiling and he took her with a passionate kiss. It began all over again, pounding renewed in her heart, a passion swelling and roaring inside her; she gripped his hands hard, her fingers scissoring tightly over his and he crushed her grip in return.

They both inhaled and exhaled in unison, their breaths snorting over one another, his thrusting becoming short and contracted. Just their hips dancing against one another without music, needing only the syncopation of their heartbeats. She began to muffle blurted air around him, high gasps and groans in her throat that she couldn’t stop. He was going to make her come again, and it was going to be even better than the first time.

She hitched her legs around him, dug her heels into his rump and forced him deeper. When she came, she wanted him all the way inside her.

Over his shoulder she saw a pale figure passing from right to left. She gasped into Cole’s kiss. That’s squirrelly, but much desired, orgasm slipping out of her grip. It was a girl, she was blonde, and she held her hand up between her face and Maggie’s; it was Jessie.

The badness spun up inside her, a shameful tornado, but it spiraled out of kilter, its energy dissipating and disappearing leaving only specks of dust in its wake. She wanted to be seen.

She gasped a little louder, accepted Cole fully again, ran her nails up his back sharply making him growl. It was a sexy masculine animal sound, and it made Jessie giggle.

Jessie said, “Don’t mind me, guys. Getting some things and getting right out. And once more for the hard of hearing: put the damn handkerchief on the doorknob,” and then she giggled again.

Maggie grunted and gasped, made deep sexual sounds. It was a display though it didn’t take much acting. Cole flinched at the sound of Jessie’s voice, but he didn’t stop, feeling Maggie’s willingness compelling him, her hungry opening swallowing him and sucking him deep. It made him grunt, too.

Jessie gathered her things while Maggie bucked hard against Cole. Threw some items of clothing into a bag, zipped it closed and heaved it over her shoulder, throwing a hand up again between them as she walked back to the door. Before she disappeared, before she was blotted out by Cole’s handsome visage, Maggie clearly saw Jessie’s wet, blinking, brilliant blue eyes meet hers in round shock the instant before she passed.

Being seen like that—her base and lubricious nature revealed, her deep sexual value exposed to someone who had been her roommate and considered her a good girl from day one—poured jet fuel into her motor. She practically purred, arched her back, and Cole met it with aggression, driving her into the bed, her head being forced back into the headboard, banging it into the wall.

Somewhere she heard Jessie gasp, “Holy shit, oh, my God.” She heard the door close.

Something like a laugh whorled up inside her, working in circles, making her open her mouth as if she were regaling though no sound came out. A victorious feeling, a recognition, a feeling of a circle made complete. A loop drawn in a crescent, searching and magically finding its origin again. Perfection in totality. Her spirit, her intelligence, her spark, sexuality, all plugged in, batteries charged, the motor of her soul vibrating and humming.

She found it again that swirling chrome globe of ecstasy, pinpointed it in her frontal lobe, squeezed with a focus, riling it up again, bringing its swell to raise her high. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” she gasped and moaned into Cole’s ear as she ran her nails up his back. Her heels kicked into him, spurring him, digging into his rump, her words making Cole groan now, too, his thrusting ceasing, digging deep instead and holding it inside her.

She heard the door again, saw Jessie return, her face reddened, cheeks blushing, eyes wet. She was coming toward her, now the focus was lost, that slippery orgasmic globe swirling into the ether and she moaned with displeasure.

Jessie kneeled at the side of the bed, sniffling wetly, a trembling cry in her voice: “Sorry, I have to ... is this okay? Are you okay?”

Maggie gasped, “What?”

Jessie’s eyes were pink and watery, on the verge of crying. “Maggie, do you want to be here?”

Cole said, “Jessie, Jesus, it’s me ...”

But she disregarded Cole, said, “I don’t care. I have to ask. Maggie ...?”

“Yeah,” she gasped and groaned, writhing in the sheets, so excited to be seen this way.

“Are you …?” Jesse cried. “Do you want to be here? Are you here of your own will?” Her voice trembled and broke, fractured by fear.

Maggie gasped again, a breathy slice of air and she said, “I one ... ah, one-hundred percent want to be he-here ...”

Cole said again, “Jessie, it’s me …”

“I know it’s you,” she spat. She looked at Cole now, and Maggie didn’t like the eyes not being on her.

“I’ll explain ... oh ... mm-later ...”

Cole said, “It’s cool, Jessie.”

Maggie gasped, “It’s okay ... I want to be here. I really want to be here.” She bucked her hips for emphasis. Cole had stopped, his face indignant, almost hurt.

Jessie wiped at her cheeks, voice still shaky she said, “You want to be here?”

“Yeah,” she gasped again, arching her back and writhing once more.

“Maggie …”

Then Maggie ruined it, dashed the independence of the moment by saying: “Max knows. It’s okay … Max knows ...”

Jessie, unable to deal with it, gasped, “Whatever, fine, I don’t care, I just want you to be okay ...”

“Mm, I’m okay, better than … okay ...”

Cole slipped himself back and forth a little and it made her laugh, the laugh falling away to a high pitched giggle she didn’t even recognize. Now she was one of those girls and her power was incredible.

Jessie backed away, and Maggie gasped, “Wait, don’t go …”

It slowed Cole’s stroke, made him hesitate, wondering about Maggie’s intention.

“Take … Take a picture for me,” she asked. Thinking of Max.

“What? No …”

“Yes, please, Jessie,” and then irrationally: “It’s for a project.”

“Maggie…”

And then a further plea: “Please, Jessie?”

“Oh, no, Maggie …”

She was urgent, whispering now, “Please, Jessie, the phone,” waving a pointed foot, knowing her phone was somewhere in the surrounding bedding.

“No, Maggie, don’t ...”

“Please, Jessie ...”

Then Jessie was gone and instantly regret fell over her like a heavy sheet. Like in Freshman year, the first time she drank to excess, woke up in the morning wondering all the things she said, remembering only snippets. Wondering how bad she had got. An overwhelming regret. And this was like that, the knowledge that while her words made sense in the throes of ecstasy with her beautiful lover, in the cold glow of tomorrow she would not see it the same way.

She moaned, feeling reproach in self-awareness. The first time since she’d begun this endeavor that she looked admonishingly on herself. Cole resumed stroking and while she was flashed with instant pleasure, she knew it would be a long climb up that hill to ecstasy.

At the sound of a digital shutter her eyes opened, saw Jessie standing by the side of her bed, lowering the phone, watching her roommate—who was engaged—fucking her Best Man on her dorm room bed. The baseness whirled again, pushing away the shame, or at least facing it down. She nodded for Jessie who didn’t nod back, lowered the camera to her side, her face drawn and unhappy. She dropped the phone onto her bed and walked away.

The door closed, and they were alone again. Cole said, “That was fucking crazy, Maggie.”

“Was it?” she whined with worry.

“It’s okay. I think it’s okay. I love you, I love Max. I don’t care what it means.”

It was the perfect thing to be said. It supercharged her heart, brought her smile wide, and she gasped, “I don’t care what it means either.”

She raked her nails over his skin, making him hiss, driving his hips forward, pushing that big thing up into her body again, injecting her with hot excitement. She dug her heels, spurred her lover until the thrusting returned. They bucked against each other, they laughed, they kissed, they rolled all over her bed. Sometimes she was on top, sometimes he was. She came. She came again. She’d never felt more free.