by KT Morrison
“Go ahead,” she said, rolled her eyes.
“I, Maggie Becker...”
“I, Maggie Becker,” she mimicked.
“On this day, Wednesday, October fourth...”
“On this day, Wednesday, October the fourth...”
“Am stating that I will engage in surreptitious, covert, and very dirty behavior...”
She repeated, “Am stating that I will engage in...what?”
“Surreptitious, covert, and very dirty behavior...”
“I will engage in surreptitious, covert, and very dirty behavior.”
“...But I am doing so because it is part of the experience. This is fake cheating.”
“I am doing so because it is part of the experience. It is fake cheating,” she said, smiling and cocking her head for the camera. Doing it for Cole, then wincing thinking of Max watching the video. But she wasn’t going to cheat and he wasn’t going to see the video.
Cole put his hand on his chest, over his heart, said, “I want to experience the excitement of cheating but I swear to all that is holy, that I am not really cheating. Now put your hand on your heart...”
She put her hand over her heart under the sheet. “I want to—”
“Let me see your hand,” he said.
“No,” she laughed, “I’m not opening the sheet. I want to experience...what?”
“The excitement of cheating...”
“The excitement of cheating but I am not really cheating.”
Cole added, “I love you, Max.”
She felt her features fall and her head tilted further. “I love you, Max. I do. I really do. Very much.”
The phone dinged as he stopped recording and he tossed it onto the bed at his side. “What do you think?” he said, his face serious again.
“I think this is that erection talking,” she said without a smile, nodding her chin towards the bulge under his side of the bed sheet he’d gathered over his prominent arousal.
He looked between his legs, gripped his shaft over the cotton and held it. “Maybe,” he said. “Think about it, would you? It could be fucking wild.”
“Maybe,” she said. “That video wouldn't save me. And I don’t want to hurt Max. Not for real. This isn’t a court of law, and that declaration wouldn’t spare his feelings.”
His grip went mildly up and down his cock, he said, “I don’t want to hurt Max. You could have the thrill of your life, though. I mean it.”
She ruffled the sheet, flapped it like a cape and her arm slipped closer to him, her hand resting on the middle of his bare thigh. She moved it higher, sliding under the sheet that covered him as well. His hand left his cock and his eyes leveled at hers.
“Just think about it,” he said.
Her hand wanted to slip up his leg higher but she resisted it. Cole’s eyes were fixed on his bulge and her hand and the maddening distance between the two. His breaths came heavy. Finally, when she remained still, he said, “You want to watch me jerk off?”
She laughed so abruptly her other hand shot up to cover her unladylike exhortation.
“What?” he laughed, his trim stomach bouncing, his eyes twinkling light back at her.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, remembering Jay and his ploy to get her to jerk his cock. “Just you boys and your cocks.”
Now her hand slipped up higher and she felt the heat from his manhood. She eased closer, bumped his scrotum with her nails and felt his balls climb high. She walked her fingers across his sticky sagging skin and she cradled them.
Cole peeled the sheet back and they both looked at her pale small hand holding his huge testicles. His cock was iron hard, looked like it wanted to split, the skin was stretched so tight on it. It shot straight up to his belly button, thick and writhed with veins. His foreskin had bunched around the collar and his swollen glans, large and plump, flared from it. Her hand went around the base, gripped it lightly, her hand forming a wide C around his tremendous girth. She moved her hand up and down and watched his foreskin gulp then peel from the corpulent glans. His hips began to grind gently, moving his shaft through her grip.
“I’m not going to cheat on him,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she was talking to Cole. More talking to herself, her eyes on the thing she had in her hand.
“We could have so much fun and it would be just pretend.”
She didn’t answer him, kept stroking. Heard his words and was contemplating. The desire was there, the urge to have sex was strong, to do it in secret even stronger but she wasn’t into hurting Max for real. But she was stroking another guy’s cock now. No lube, just using his foreskin and the sparse greasy remnant of wiped Vaseline.
She brought her hand away from him, his cock so hard it barely wagged when she let it go. She daintily smelled her palm.
Cole laughed, said, “What is that?”
“It was...you know...in my butt.”
“You prude,” he said, then he sat up and kissed her forehead. He held her chin and looked in her eyes. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I like when you say it, but I don’t want you to. Not now.”
He grinned warmly, ran her hair behind an ear and said, “Okay.”
She leaned her head on him, rested it on his chin, her hand returning to his aching erection, poking up straight between his legs. She resumed her stroking, her eyes lowered to her grip on him. She didn’t want to hurt Max, but this was cheating—and then again maybe it wasn’t. Who knew anymore? Just two good friends getting each other off. They had a threesome and they would again and this was about exploration... This wasn’t passion, wasn’t ecstasy...she was clear-headed. Her hand was just going to hold this part of his body she’d held before, and it was going to go up and down, then shortly, fluid was going to siphon through tubes and vessels and emit from the hole in the end of it. That was all. Just biology. Not romance, nothing of the heart. Just bodily function.
“Like that?” she whispered.
He groaned and eased his cock through her stroking hand.
“Like my hand on you?” she said softly, her eyes going up to look at his face.
“Like it in your hand?” he said.
“I do,” she said.
“It looks so good in your hand.”
“You’ve got a nice cock,” she said, watching how it looked in her grip. She had small pale hands, but long-fingered. They wrapped around his shaft, just enough to touch middle finger to thumb tip. His skin was dark and wrinkled and it looked so unlike the rest of him. Penises were ugly sort of things. Awesome in their own way and definitely exciting. But Cole was beautiful. He had tight tan skin, lustrous and thick blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Then between his legs he had this odd wrinkled tool. And hanging below it, two grotesque balls inside a hairy sack. So strange when considered in the entirety, but still...she desired it. Loved the feel of it in her hand, loved to feel it hard, loved to feel it transform from soft to hard, to know that she had the power.
“I’m going to come...is that okay?”
“I want you to,” she said, looking up at his questioning face, seeing the light reflect in his narrowed diffident eyes.
She stroked him sensually. Too sensually to be considered friendly. Altering her touch on him, varying her speed, she spent a good long while keeping the orgasm from him, stopping him from coming. She admired the shape of his cock in her hand. The two of them sitting upright on his bed, naked, folded against one another, her hand between his legs, the only sound the quiet paused interlude from Mortal Kombat and the smacking of his foreskin.
She secretly watched his face now as she stroked him. Saw his handsome stubbled jawline, his plump perfectly shaped lips. His eyes were closed as she delivered him pleasure. This was her good friend. Not the one from her bridal day, not the man with the tie who backed her against a wall and had her breath trapped in her throat. Not the one who said the dirtiest things to her, put his hand in her panties and whose touch almost made her come. This was th
e Cole she knew and loved. As a friend.
She liked the other Cole better. He did strange things to her heart. This one was fun but it was tentative, operating with trepidation. When he knew he could fuck her he became a force. Frightening in his dominant sexuality, but now, while he was still trying, there was restraint. He was worried about Max. He was worried about doing something that might hurt him. But not worried enough to stop. Instead, manufacturing convoluted games to get in her pants. She provoked something in him. She had to. He’d endeavored to engage her in passion, to make it seem friendly and natural...but he’d been prepared. Vaseline at the ready, going to the store and buying her a bright blue dildo. His own desire for her was apparent in those actions. And, with his cock in her hand, she had very bad feelings—wondering what it would be like to cheat. Wondering what it would be like to be consumed by a man like Cole when he wore his tie and knew what he was doing.
Maybe he was right about cheating.
She whispered in his ear, “What happened to the man who made me soak my panties?”
“What do you mean?”
“The Cole with the tie who met me in the hall at The Poirot was so dirty, so sexy, he made my knees shake. Literally shake.” She kept her stroke and said, “I miss that confident man who knew exactly what turned me on...put his hand up my skirt when my mother could walk through the door at any minute...”
He frowned, moved his hand down his belly.
“What? ...” she said, slowing, their eyes coming together.
He didn’t answer but he held her wrist and stopped her stroke.
Finally he smiled, said, “He put his cock up your ass when you didn’t really want to...”
“I kind of wanted to...”
“No, you didn’t”
“I knew I shouldn’t...”
Their eyes met again and his face wasn’t quite so happy now. He was trying to comprehend her. Then he bounced himself on top of her. He did it so fast she threw her hands up to defend herself like he would strike her. But no blows came. Only kisses. Passionate and overwhelming and she wanted to succumb but she knew she couldn’t.
“No,” she gasped, “...I don’t mean...”
His knees spread her legs and she resisted but not hard enough. He got her open and his cock poked around her sex, the fat glans stroking the seam of her thigh trying to find her wet heat.
“Oh Cole, no, seriously...”
He persisted and she kissed him but she flexed her thighs and closed her legs against his hips, made it hard for him to get his cock inside her. He found her wet stripe anyway and she felt the head of his cock spread her labia, heard the mucous sound of her sex being parted.
“Cole, don’t,” she hissed and she squirmed in his grip. He persisted but slowly he faltered.
“Maggie,” he said, and his kisses came away.
“I mean it,” she said. His eyes darted over hers. Lost. Mad. Mad at her. His heart was racing. He held his cock in his hand.
He said, “I don’t know what you want. I know what I want...I don’t know—”
“I want you. I do, but you know we can’t...”
“I...”
She shimmied herself higher up the bed and twisted to the night table. He’d left the jar of Vaseline with the lid off and she dipped her fingers and took a generous scoop. Worked her body back underneath him, getting her thighs on the outside of his. He planted his hands on the mattress on either side of her.
“Kiss me,” she said.
He looked at her dubiously, his handsome blues darting over her whole face, his brow furrowed. His hair hung down over her and in this dim light she thought he couldn’t be more handsome. “Kiss me,” she said again. She worked her hands together, got them coated in grease. He kissed her. She kissed him back with intent. Taking his tongue and moaning and writhing under him. She broke the kiss, said, “That’s it, now fuck my tight little pussy,” and she gripped his aching hardness with both her fists and pushed it downward so it lay in her hands against her belly.
He inhaled with lascivious intent and then resumed his kiss. His cock began to thrust through her hands and she gripped him tightly. He was hard as steel right now and feeling her hand being spread surprised her that her sex could accommodate his girth. But it did. It did and he felt good too. “Fuck that pussy,” she whispered and it spurred him. It worked well, the positioning was almost perfect, her tight grip held his size effectively and she could take his rising desire. He fucked her hands faster and faster, kissed her neck and began to breathe lustily against her collar. “That’s it, Cole, fuck that little pussy so hard...fuck it good...”
“Fuck, Maggie,” he grunted.
His heavy swinging balls tapped her labia wetly and she gasped, “Come inside it, Cole, fill it up with your hot come...”
“Oh shit,” he seized, then roared, and she felt her hands become instantly slippery. Then he was ejaculating all over her chest and over her belly and she gripped him as tight as she could. It kept spewing from him and sending hot dots and splashes over her breasts and even her arms. He thrust and grunted, bellowed and dug his cock deep through her grip like he was burying it to the hilt in her body. His cock flexed and bulged, throbbed in her hand as his muscles worked to propel every drop out of his hanging balls.
“Fuck, Cole,” she whispered. “That is a lot of come.”
He groaned a wheezy constricted laugh into her hair. She lowered a hand to hold his testicles and she caressed them, said, “These aren’t for show, huh?”
“You’re so dirty, Maggie,” he laughed into the pillow.
“Mm,” she moaned, squeezed his cock and his balls. He might be satisfied but now she wasn’t. Sure he’d made her come already but that hot little escapade had her wishing his cock was inside her. “Get off me, Cole...I...with my legs open like this...I want to...that video wouldn’t save me...”
He eased away from her and she was reluctant to let his manhood go. He flopped next to her, glistening chest heaving to catch his breath.
“We’re so...we’re so good together...” he sighed heavily.
“Yeah,” she said, hands feeling around her, looking for that towel while his semen dribbled off her, tickling her, running along her collar and onto her neck. Found it, then cleaned herself and watched his ceiling.
“Shit, I mean it, Maggie. You are incredible.”
She turned nervously, regarded him as he lay as she had been, flat on his back, looking up above, eyes wide but vacant. He was recovering from the dirty thing they’d just done.
“Yeah, we are,” she said as she watched him. She admired his muscle, his hair, that gleam in his upturned eyes. He was her friend, her beautiful friend. She would love to have a secret affair with him, but it would kill her sweet boy.
6
Liar
Wednesday, October 4th
It was after ten o’clock and Maggie wasn’t in her room. Max stood outside her door, 211, having knocked now a dozen times. She wasn’t home. Unless she was passed out. But not on a Wednesday, not Maggie.
Unless she was cuddled up in her bed right now with Cole. The two of them accidentally falling asleep after a vicious, passionate fucking and now they were laying under her sheets wide-eyed and snickering, putting a finger over each other’s mouths, trying not to laugh, waiting for Max to go away. She wasn’t responding to texts either. Her phone was going to message. He chewed the inside of his lip. The hall bustled behind him. Students going left and right, laughing, shouting out to one another, careless and problem free.
He strode down the hall, wondering what to do next. He texted Cole this time and watched his screen while he walked down the stairs to the main floor trying not to bump into anyone. Still no response.
Once out in the fresh air he took a few deep breaths and looked out over the quad from where he stood. Cold and crisp, dark, paths lit by the halide lights on posts. The paths were populated by sauntering students laughing and talking, people by themselves with headphones. A bike rod
e past. He squinted in the dark, scoping all the faces, looking to see if she was coming, see if she was out here.
He headed to the northeast, going along the path and thinking to curl around behind Keegan and cut across the athletic field, intending to dip into Farmingham village, head to Altieri’s and see if they might still be there. He paused at the edge of the grass where it met the concrete path, looking out across the dark plain ahead and the lit street ahead a few hundred yards off. He tapped his foot on the stone edge of the path. Changed his mind and walked back the way he’d come and headed towards Samuelson.
He walked briskly, putting some speed to his shoes. Somehow something bad was building inside him. He wouldn’t ascribe the word premonition but it was something very akin. An intuition. Could he trust it? Sometimes the notion of intuition could be driven by hormonal desires and impulses. He headed to Samuelson blindly, his mind a blank wordless slate, but something deep down in his brain, something small and primitive was sure he would find them together. And the speed to his step? ...It felt a bit like desire. Like he wanted to catch them together.
He didn’t slow. He pictured what he might find. His worst image. The one he’d had knocking at her door. Being left out. Her and Cole together and laughing at him, hiding under their sheets, sharing humor at dumb Max’s misfortune. Knowing he’d be so mad they were fucking, but doing it anyway. He was mad. Mad, but he wanted to see it. Wanted the confirmation. Why would he want to see that? Why would...
At the same moment that his phone binged to life in his hand he saw a familiar shape, black against the lobby lights of Samuelson. It looked like his Maggie, moved like her. It emerged from the doors, held a phone in its grasp, bustled quickly down the steps, close enough to him that he could hear the heels of penny loafers on stone. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the screen.
Maggie: Sorry sorry sorry. We were at Rockets and it was loud neither of us heard our phones
He stepped into the grass and stood himself behind a tall boxwood shrub and paused to think. That was Maggie coming out of Samuelson. He was sure of it. She wasn’t coming out of Kirby Hall, the building that hosted Rockets café. If she had been at Rockets she would have texted him when she left there, not after she and Cole walked all the way back to Samuelson. It was a ten minute walk from Kirby to Samuelson.