by KT Morrison
Max went quiet and watched Maggie and Cole. Their faces were lit by the fire’s warm glow, the color of their clothes saturated by its blazing amber hue. They sat side by side, not touching now but sitting very close, both of them throwing their gaze out over the bay. Max’s heart began to pump with awful excitement. Maggie couldn't sleep with Cole—that would be forbidden. He wouldn't allow that, but seeing what it would be like had filled him with an ecstatic anxiety that was sending a hardness through his shaft. He stopped himself from chewing his lip when it started to hurt. The idea of Maggie and Cole together was so taboo, so awful but it was driving his pulse mad right now.
Max stuttered, “You want...you want me to...I could go get some beers...”
“Fuck yes,” Cole said dryly with no hesitation.
“Look at brave Max,” Maggie said. “What if you encounter the dreaded minotaur? ...watching you sneak his beer while looking at his watch...”
“It’s your bedtime, Max,” Cole joined in, saying it in a decent Dutch accent, impersonating Martin.
“Ha. Ha,” Max said, pronouncing the two words with deliberate precision. “Martin gave us some leeway on the hops.”
“He did,” Cole said to Maggie, looking at her and nodding in affirmation.
“I don't care,” she laughed. “Drink as many beers as you want.”
“Yeah,” Max said, “Yeah.”
He held his hands clasped together, his thumbs going around each other in winding circles, trying to build up the nerve to leave Cole and Maggie together. Fearful to do it, worried that she might try something wth Cole but also wondering how he would feel if she did. She couldn’t. Their friendship could never survive.
He went anyway, just for the thrill of his racing heartbeat. He got up, said, “Okay, beers? ...” and he held up three fingers. Cole and Maggie nodded. They were all in. He shuffled along the trail, curling up the path towards the house. His cock had grown plump in his underwear. His ears were ringing with a high metallic note, like the bells on Maggie’s bird cage. His heart hammered so hard it blurred his vision. He walked the path, dying to look back but getting an awful pleasure from denying himself. He let his imagination wander.
Cole said, “It’s beautiful here, Maggie.” He was looking out over the fire at the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore. It was black out there now, black sky and black water. An indigo swipe at the horizon lit up silver peaks on the water.
“It is. I wish I’d taken the time to enjoy it when I was younger. You grew up by the ocean?”
“Mm-hmm,” he nodded. “Connecticut. Old Saybrook, but we weren’t near the water. We’d party at the beach...but this is so peaceful. And it’s all yours.”
“We didn’t party though. Not here. Actually, not anywhere,” she clarified, then laughed.
He said, “I love it here. It’s so peaceful.”
“It’s cold,” she said. Shimmied her butt in the sand closer to Cole so that their hips touched. She looked up at his handsome face. He had sharp eyes, piercing blue, a strong stubbled jaw and blonde hair. The fire lit him from below, showed off the masculine ridges of his face and put a dancing light in the bottom curve of his eyes.
“What?” he laughed, catching her looking at him.
“Nothing,” she said, smiling. Took her blanket and lifted it over his lap so they were both underneath and she snuggled into him. “You know...I...I never had a boyfriend when I lived here.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I was kept busy. With schoolwork. But sometimes...God, this is so embarrassing.”
“What?” he said, a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.
“I had an imaginary boyfriend,” she said and she covered her face and giggled into her hands.
“Oh my God, Maggie,” he said, “You're so cute.” His arm went around her in a friendly maneuver. A wind picked up and rustled the licking flames and she shivered. Wiggled herself into Cole’s side.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d have...oh, man...I’d have conversations with him here, down on the beach.”
She felt him shaking with a laugh, looked up to see him stifling it.
“Stop,” she said and poked him under the blanket. “It’s so sad. We were in love. We’d talk about all our dreams. He was very supportive.”
“You guys make out?”
She didn't answer him. They’d done more than make out, but that was up in her bedroom, her hand moving quietly under her sheets and her other hand over her own mouth.
Cole said, “I feel like I might have had a girlfriend like that, too.”
“Yeah, when you were eleven,” she said. “I was, like, sixteen.”
“Oh poor Maggie,” he said and his hand gripped her shoulder and shook her lightly. “What was his name?”
She rolled her eyes and looked to him, said, “His name was Cole.”
His expression didn't change, an expectant smile staying expectant. He'd anticipated laughing at her answer but his eyes darted over hers and she didn't look away. She let the moment get awkward, enjoyed the tightness spreading in her belly. The waves lapped and the bay gently roared, the fire hissed and cracked. “I’m kidding,” she said, frowned her brow low and laughed, thumped her forehead against his jean jacket shoulder.
Max crept from the kitchen, slipping out the metal and glass door with two half-liter bottles of Dutch beer under his arm and one in his hand. The door closed quietly behind him on gas-powered hinges. Crunched his topsiders through gravel, worked his way along the path. He could see an orange glow from Cole’s fire. A hazy amber brume, sliced on the bottom third by the grassy silhouette of the cliff’s edge. Beyond was black, but he could hear the water, feel it too, feel the cold humidity in the air. A seagull called. The sky was black with cloud cover. He missed the stars. As the path curved, angled to run parallel to the beach and began to slope down to its level he slowed his step. Slowed so he would quiet his footsteps.
Maggie wouldn't try anything with Cole and he knew Cole would never do it either but he entertained the fantasy. Wondered how it would feel to see them in union. His Maggie's skinny legs wrapped tight around Cole’s hips as he thrust himself into her with his pants pulled down to his knees. Max groaned in his mind. The dirty thought tickling the strangest, most libertine part of his brain. Why was that so arousing?
He moved with care, bottles gripped tight against his body so they wouldn't clink. He found the two of them close together. His scrotum tightened, rustled in his underwear and it hurt his heart far more than he could have anticipated. A rake shivered over his scalp and he shuddered. They were side by side at the fire. They shared a blanket. Maggie's pale hand lit up, spread open on the center of Cole’s chest. Their faces were close. So close together. He took another step, two, three. Saw they were kissing. He stopped.
“Oh no. Oh, wow. Ow,” he murmured.
His mouth trembled and jumped like he would cry. He was cloven by a heavy claymore. Betrayal. His two best friends without him. They were both cheating on him. His best friend kissing his fiancée. His fiancée rocking her mouth against his best friend’s. The pain was exquisite. His legs trembled. His knees knocked. He dropped a bottle into the rocky sand.
Their faces came away from each other, Maggie's eyes locked on Cole’s, and she sucked her own lips, over and over as her pose eased back to sit against the gray twisted trunk. Cole’s back was to him. He turned, looked over in Max’s direction, peeking from the corner of his eye. A terror there. Realizing they’d been seen. Cole sat back now too, his body wooden, his eyes wide. Max could see his jaw tremble. He stared into the fire with. Maggie wiped her mouth.
Max collected the bottle and walked the rest of the way to the fire on shaky legs. The muscles of his thighs and rump jumped and twitched.
“Hey,” he said as he got to the fire. Held a bottle out to Cole. Cole stared into the fire, couldn't look at him. His hand came out and took the bottle. Maggie’s eyes met Max’s but he couldn't read her expression. Her mouth was
puffy from kissing, held slack. Her eyes were wet, glistening with the fire’s reflection. Her eyebrows were neither afraid nor confident.
“Here,” he said, and he handed her a bottle.
He sat opposite them on the cold black stone Ken had used, not quite on the other side of the fire. He twisted his bottle cap and threw it in the flames. He took a drink.
Cole played with his bottle and looked ill. He groaned a draggy moan that sounded like a car having trouble starting. “Mm-mmaybe we should go to bed.”
Maggie said, “We just opened our beers. We have some time.”
She still sat with her body pressed next to Cole though he looked like he wanted to pull away. He was touching her but his posture was recoiling. He still couldn't look away from the fire. He opened his beer, took an unsteady drink.
Maggie had Max’s eye now, but she wasn't communicating anything. He stared back. Kept himself as blank as she was. His breaths came shallow, barely perceptible. Almost as if he wasn't breathing but he knew he must be because he was still alive. All three of them turned their faces to the fire. All three of them thinking about what had just happened. Max's insides were clenched like a fist. Equally exciting as it was enraging.
Maggie twisted the base of her bottle in the sand, drilling it next to her like she was extinguishing a cigarette. She got the bottle to stay upright and Max could see she’d consumed half already, an amber line of bubbles dancing at the midway point. Twisted at her hips and wiped at her mouth, stared at the side of Cole's head, waiting for him to turn to her. When he did, when he could sense her staring for too long, not looking at her became uncomfortable. Their eyes met. Maggie jutted her chin to him, her mouth parted again. Cole looked away. Her hand reached to him, her engagement ring winking off sparks from the fire. She held his cheek on the far side and turned his face to hers. She kissed him. Moving slow, with a slight jerking hesitation, her mouth came to his. He didn't move to meet it, but when he felt her lips he took them. Then pulled away.
“Maggie...” he said, his head shook from bewilderment. He looked away. Afraid to look up and look at Max.
“It’s okay, Cole,” she whispered. She kissed the sharp line of his jaw, her palm smoothing his cheek, the sound of his stubble against her palm heard over the crackling fire. Max took another drink. Swallowed big, his Adam’s apple jumping. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Cole's eyes wandered near Max's, his gaze settling somewhere in the middle of Max’s chest. Maggie kissed and sucked at his neck.
Cole stammered, “I—I...”
Maggie's hand moved from his neck down his chest, under his jacket, low, below the blanket. Cole's breaths came fast. Her hand settled between his legs, and Cole turned to her and their eyes met.
“Maggie,” he said. “Don’t.”
Maggie kept his gaze, her hand flipped the blanket away and Max could see what she was doing. She was rubbing his cock through his pants. Both hands went to his waist and she undid the fly on his cotton chinos.
“Hey, whoa...” he said. His hand rested on hers, but he didn't stop her.
Maggie worked her hand inside his opened fly. Max’s heart pounded and that incessant ringing returned. His hand clutched at his own chest under his jacket.
Maggie was having trouble and her other hand went in to help, two hands working inside his open fly now. They stared into each other's eyes. Maggie unwavering and determined, Cole frightened, aroused, and unsure.
“Oh wow,” she said when she had his cock out in the bare night. Her eyes lowered to see what her good friend had between his legs. Cole's eyes narrowed and his head wobbled on his neck. His cock was erect. Very big. Not as long as Jay but at least as thick, maybe thicker. He had a big bulbous glans and a tight foreskin that threatened to plop right down his shaft. Maggie stroked at the foreskin with a finger and thumb, rolling it over his corona and up again. Max wondered if Lee had a foreskin or if this was her first time seeing one.
She kissed Cole again and his lips worked against hers though they were reluctant. Maggie's forefinger tapped at the very tip of his cock, her pad bouncing in the concave shallow of Cole's urethra. Each upstroke of her finger drawing back a shimmering silvery bow. Cole’s excitement spewing from him. Max wondered if his best friend had long harbored feelings for Maggie. She was smart and beautiful. He had to. It was evident in the reaction of his body. Maggie had his erection out of his pants for less than a minute and he was streaming his lubrication down his shaft. It pooled against the flap of his fly where it scored across the base of his cock and Max could see his pants turn darker there where it was being absorbed. Maggie slipped up and down with her fingers, dancing them around his cock, exploring all his shapes and ridges, tracing over the paths of the thick veins. Their mouths still kissed and sucked but Cole's hands stayed at his sides and he was still hesitant.
Maggie pulled her hair back with one hand, her eyes darting to Max, then back to Cole's cock as she lowered her mouth to it.
“Whoah, Maggie,” Cole said, his eyes glued to the back of her head, watching it lower between his legs. She took the head of his cock in her mouth. The mouth that had said, Yes, Max, a thousand times, yes, when he'd got down on one knee and presented the ring he’d bought her with the help of his brother on a trip home to Michigan.
That mouth turned to a thin ring as it stretched around his best friend's very thick cock. She sunk down a few inches, sucked back up. Cole’s head fell right back and both hands came up as fists and pressed into his own cheeks. He groaned, “Ah, mm, no, Maggie, no.”
She wasn't hearing him. Her head bobbing and twisting seductively, trying to please him. His Maggie trying to give a good blow job. Cole had lots of girls suck his cock, Max had heard about most of them, but he knew that this one was going to be forever remembered. Cole’s legs shook when she plunged, his feet stretching out and digging into the beach, plowing dark sand around the white soles of his deck shoes. “Mm, ah, no,” he protested weakly.
Max wrung his brow, it came low and it winced like he might cry but he was dry. No tears came, though he felt on the verge of flooding. He shook his head. Shook it at Maggie, shook it at himself. He should stop this but he knew he wasn't going to. He watched.
Her hand gripped his base, so wide her fingers only formed a loose c shape to keep it steady. She bobbed deep, enough to make her gurgle and gag for a moment. Cole was moaning, his body twisting and writhing mildly. His hands came away from his face but he stared up into the sky. One hand came and rested on Maggie's waist. She moaned around his cock. She opened her legs. One folded against Cole's leg, sitting on one butt cheek, her knee angling wide, opening her up like wings. Max could see a tremor in Cole’s hand. His fingers walked her skirt, looking for the hem, found it, pulled her skirt up to her waist. Maggie's hips moiled the air, eager for her sex to be touched. Max clasped his hands together in the attitude of prayer and pressed both thumbs to his lips. His frown so severe he'd brought himself a headache. His eyes were dry and unblinking.
Cole had big muscular hands. Veined and well-groomed with big knuckles. It spread across the inside of her thigh. She wore black stockings, the material stretching the curve of her thigh and revealing the tone of her skin underneath. Cole clasped the inside of her thigh, stroked up and down and got Maggie whimpering. Max thought of her bare sex so close. Knew she wasn't wearing panties. She was shaved now and he knew she would be sopping wet. Cole wouldn't touch her. Trembling hand threatening to raise higher but afraid. Afraid to touch his friend like that. Max was glad, but part of him was aching to see Cole's hand slip under those stockings, find out how slippery his Maggie could get when she wanted it. Max groaned.
Maggie sucked and slurped, and her head swiveled, her lips pouting and sucking on Cole’s bursting glans, coming up and forming a kiss at his very tip. Thrusting her mouth back down. Cole’s legs jumped.
The four of them had always been close. Spending so many days and nights together over the last four years. Good lovi
ng and caring friends. There was something that was at once so taboo about this, so awful, but another part seemed very nice. Very fun and caring and happy. Those feelings washed over him in crashing waves of duality, crashing like the Narragansett waves at his back.
“Ah, Maggie, ah,” Cole softly whispered, head falling right back. “Oh shit, oh...” His hand came away from her waist and he held her head. Both hands gripping her, fingers running through her hair while her lips slipped up and down his fat shining cock. “No,” he cried, “Ah,” then his hips thrust to meet her mouth and she snorted through her nose, deep scoring breaths, and she went beet red. Cole shoved his cock in her face. She took it. Her hand clutched his balls through his pants. Cole's face contorted like he was in pain and Max could tell he wanted to yell and growl but he was holding it all in. He grunted and coughed. His legs kicked the sand in alternating sweeps, sand spraying around his shoes, Maggie moaned and hummed sweet positive sounds, encouraging him.
“Oh God, oh God,” he cried now, both hands coming up and covering his face.
Maggie held firm on him, not moving. Cole's chest heaved. In and out, chugging like he might be crying. Then she slowly and deliberately slipped her lips up his shaft, leaving it gleaming in the firelight. Her lips stroked up to his glans and it made Cole shudder as she passed his most sensitive part. Her lips came to a pout at the very end of him, then off.
She held her mouth closed, her face puckered like she was holding a mouthful. She cupped her hand under her chin like she might spit up. Walked on her knees through the sand and came right to the bright of the roaring fire and caught Max’s eye. They stared at each other a moment and her neck worked like she was gulping but not swallowing. She looked like she might throw up. Lowered her face to the flames so he could see her clearly, opened her mouth for him, her lips forming a quivering ring. Angled her head so he could see inside her mouth, see the thick pool of Cole's pearly semen in the cupped birdbath of her quivering pink tongue.