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Maggie, Book 1, Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2022-12-22 04:00:01 +0000 UTCAs her orgasm subsided it was replaced with a fast rising tide of shame. She was humiliated. Those things she admitted were the things that ended relationships. She cried now, her back sobbing, her Max pressed to her. Wanted to turn and face him but she couldn't look him in the eye. That was not dirty talk. That was true. Did he know it was true? Did he want it to be true?
His hands calmed her back but his cock was angry inside her, pulsing and urgent. His slightest movement tickled. She had never been more wet. Max’s cock moved with no resistance at all. What would Jay feel like? Would his hurt her?
She pushed that thought away. Mad at herself. Squeezed tears from her eyes and slipped forward so her Max came out of her. She never went down on him after he’d been inside her. Tonight she was out of her mind. Tonight she needed something wild to chase her thoughts away.
She turned and gripped his shirt, pulled him to her and he fell her way, clumsily, and they sat on their sides on the concrete steps, their mouths locked together. Twisting herself over him, she got him to sit. His pants were pulled mid-thigh, she couldn't get between his legs, so she got next to him, her own shorts slipping down to her ankles before she bent over his lap. One foot out to get purchase on concrete, one forearm across his hip, she got her face between his legs. Her nose filled with the smell of her insides. Her dirty perfume, her slick smell. She’d produced a lot of this sweat today. Got wet waiting for Jay. Got really wet watching him pose, then even more when she watched him jerk off. She’d masturbated on her bed. Hadn’t had a shower since then. And wet now like never before when her future husband said the dirtiest things she could ever imagi—No!
She pushed it away. Rejected it.
Her mouth went over Max’s hardness and he moaned and flinched. His cock couldn't be harder. She bobbed on him. The size of his cock was fine. She'd never thought anything of it. He seemed small now. Her other sexual experience had been a little bigger. Longer at least. Was Max small? No, he wasn’t, because she never had a problem with his size. His cock felt good inside her. In her mouth, in her hand. There was not a thing wrong with his cock. It was only small because she’d seen one that was huge. That was all. Jay had a huge cock. It didn't make her future-husband small. She sucked Max, sucked him, tasted her own taste, tasted his semen flowing from him, so close to ejaculating right now. He humped her mouth. Pushed his hips up and slid that little thing in and out of her mouth.
She closed her nose off, didn't want her smell in there. She breathed through her mouth around his cock. He was going to come; she couldn't wait to taste him. Jay’s semen today was gross. She didn't love Jay. She loved Max. His semen wasn't gross. It was the seed that would produce their children. There was nothing gross about it. She wanted his semen. Wanted it now. Her free hand slipped up his thigh, making him tremble, then between his legs and held his balls. His balls were so small compared to Jay’s. They tucked up tight to his shaft. Hugged him as they readied to propel his come into her mouth. Jay produced a lot of come. That was so much that came out of him. She squeezed Max’s balls, squished them tightly in her grip and as he came in her mouth she was ashamed to think what she was; horrified that she would be thinking how she liked Jay’s big balls and she liked how much sperm he’d produced.
Her hair was gripped roughly; her eyes clenched as Max thrust himself into her. His come squirted into her mouth, hit her throat, splashing through her teeth and against her cheeks and she swallowed, determined to consume him because she loved him. She loved Max so much.
He subsided. Breathing heavily above her, she could feel the rising and falling of his belly against her ear. She kept his softening cock in her mouth. Kept it there because she didn't want to talk about the things they had just said and done.
“Ah, Maggie,” he sighed. “Ah, Maggie.”
She squeezed his cock with her mouth, felt its last wetness slide from him and into her mouth. She swallowed that too. Her hand tugged at his scrotum.
“Maggie, please...Maggie? ...”
She let it fall from her mouth, sucked her own lips, pursed them and stared into his lap. Didn’t rise to him.
“Maggie,” he said again, this time guiding her with his hands to sit next to him. She faced him but couldn't look at him.
“Hey,” he said and took her chin and pointed her face to him. Her eyes lowered from his.
“Maggie. I love you.” He hugged her and she leaned into it, her own hands going over his back too.
“Max. What was that?” she said, her eyes upturned to the brown-painted door at the top of the five steps they were sprawled across.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“I don’t want to talk about it...”
“Okay, Maggie. Can I talk? You don’t have to listen...don’t have to say anything. Don’t have to look at me. I have to talk...I have to say something or I’m going to go crazy.”
She didn’t answer him but she was listening. Her eyes traveling now to the beaten old padlock hooped through a hasp, holding the door closed.
“I saw your drawings, Maggie. They hurt me. Hurt me so bad. There's something in those drawings...maybe you don't see it...I know you...I see it. Okay? I know what I see. It hurt, but I’m all right. By the end of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about it.”
How would he feel? How would it feel to see art produced by someone you love, showing the feelings under the work, her hand betraying the lust she felt for this other man. She soothed his back.
“That's it, Maggie. It’s okay. He’s beautiful. You’d be crazy not to have dirty thoughts about him.”
She wanted to answer but her thought caught in her throat. She made a croak as her weak defense fizzled somewhere between her heart and her mouth.
He heard her protest and he hugged her tight. “Don’t be ashamed, Maggie. I know...I know I’m your guy...and there haven't been many others...don’t...”
She hugged him tighter, too. Disbelief at his understanding, amazed at his compassion and his strength. She wouldn't feel the same if the roles were reversed.
“Maggie...we’re getting married in, what? ...ten months? If you...”
“Max,” she whispered.
“I mean it...”
“No, Max. I’d never do that. Don’t want it.”
“Yes, you would. You do.”
“Max. No, I wouldn't.”
“You would eventually.”
“What does that mean?” she said, eyes rolling up to the fire escape above their head.
“How many times do you think you'd draw him...before something happened...one weak moment...”
“I don't have weak moments, Max.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Max, I’m not going to fuck some other guy. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Hey, Maggie...easy, easy. Whatever you want to do. Don’t feel bad about it. That's all I’m saying.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes, frowning. Incredulous at what she was hearing. “What? What are you saying, Max?” She pushed back so she could look at him now. She stared into his eyes, almost angry. “You want to fuck some girl?”
“No, Maggie,” he blurted. “That's not it at all.”
His eyes were honest. She thought he was telling the truth. There was something there. A hurting, a desperation, lust. Why would he want this?
“I don’t want to have sex with another guy, Max.”
“I hear you,” he said. “I do. I want you to.”
She snorted. Disgust. Disbelief. “Don’t be...you’re so—”
“Maggie, for us. It’s good for us. You're young. We’re getting married young. We’re going to be together a long time. Forever and ever. I’ve...I’ve had...”
“Don’t you dare...” she said, anger swelling up in her again. Don’t put a picture in my head of you with some cheerleader, some fucking sorority girl. “Don’t. I mean it.”
“I don't have to say it. You know...”
“You...do you think I need more experience? Am I...do you like...are there things I’m doing wrong?” she said, feeling her eyebrows go up in the middle, a rising in her inflection. Was she not good in bed?
“No, Maggie.” He gripped her so hard she shook. “No, Maggie. You're amazing. I worry...”
“About what?”
“That I...you don’t...you'll always wonder...”
“No, I won’t.”
“Think about it, Maggie. You will. You’ll wonder. Not everyday, but sometimes...maybe I’m away on business...you’re home alone...with the tennis instructor...”
She laughed. “...Tennis instructor? How are you picturing us?”
He laughed too. It changed the mood instantly. His smile was back, that handsome dashing white smile of his. She sighed and caressed him, held herself to him again.
“I mean it, Maggie. I don’t want you...thinking things when we’re married.”
“Things?”
“I don’t want you to miss out. On having fun, you know?”
“You’re fun.”
“Maggie...how many guys have you been with?”
“Max. Don’t.”
“Me, plus? One...two...three? ...”
“Don’t Max.”
“Four?”
She shook her head against him. “I don't want to.”
“I don't think it's many, Maggie. It’s not the number anyway. It’s more than that.”
“You were so mad today. When you saw me horsing around with Cole.”
“I know. Today was tough. I told you. When I saw those drawings. Wow.”
She hugged him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They're honest. That's what your art is about. I got the message, okay? It was hard and then when I caught up with you and I see that...I know better but I couldn't help it.”
“How would you feel if I actually...did it?”
“I’d be okay.”
“I don’t think you would.”
“What if...what if I was...there. With you? ...”
She felt her fingers go cold. A tension wormed through her, right from her heart and spreading through her extremities like a wildfire of pins and needles. “No, Max...what?” she said, leaning back to look in his eyes.
“I could—”
“No way, Max. No way.” She sat up, wanted to say more but her brain wasn’t working. A million words describing what she was feeling all trying to rush out the door at the same time. All of them stuck now in the doorway, legs kicking, arms thrashing. “I...I—” She pulled her panties up her thighs. Pulled her shorts up too. “Max,” she said again, a breathy gasp heavy with disbelief. “No,” she said and she walked down the alley towards the mouth, out to the streetlights and the trembling leaves in the ash.
