by KT Morrison
“I don’t want to taunt him, Maggie. I just want to fuck you. So bad.”
“It’s not taunting. It’ll turn him on.”
“Turn him on?”
“Do it,” she said, feeling her breaths coming short and hitching in her chest. She tugged the front of her sweatshirt up and slipped her wet little sex up his shaft again and it made Cole gasp.
Cole’s eyes watched between them, focused on his cock and her pussy slipping on it while his hand felt around seeking his phone again. He found it, brought it to his chest, still watching the live contact.
“Okay?” she whispered.
He nodded, got the camera live.
“I’m filming,” he whispered.
She sucked her lips in her mouth while he pointed the camera between their legs and she felt his cock touch her labia, squeezed her muscles on it, slipped up high near his glans and pulled back his foreskin and watched again as that big shining desperate cock head swelled free. The sight of it pounded her heart and she ached to have it inside her.
When his phone dinged as he stopped recording, she gasped, “Oh, fuck,” and fell forward inhaling deeply, lust pounding her pulse up her neck.
“Look at your face,” Cole sighed as he opened his text messenger.
“What about it?” she said.
“Your cheeks are glowing,” he said.
She felt the heat on them. “Yeah,” she agreed.
Cole’s thumbs tapped the screen while he worked. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah,” she gasped and lay her hands on his chest.
“You want him to give you permission?”
She shrugged and looked away.
“With this?” he asked, turning his phone to her. She saw the brief repeating video image: A close up of her spread legs, Cole’s cock between them, running along her sex, she reels her hips back and it pulls his foreskin and his cock head practically pops out.
“Send it,” she whispered.
“You already have permission. You told him. We’re open.”
“Just send the picture, will you?”
He turned the screen to himself and his thumbs began typing away. He said, “Should I ask him how his folks are?”
“Don’t.”
He stopped a moment and met her gaze, let the phone down. “It’s weird, huh?”
“Weird and it might make him defensive. I want him happy.”
He resumed typing and when he was done, he turned the phone so she could see it. There was that lewd video, no identifying marks, no faces. Underneath it, he had typed:
Cole: Thumbs up, buddy, if you want more
She extended an index finger and pressed the circular green send button.
Both Ken and Max sat in silence in the space underneath the escalator, their heads turned out to the concourse, watching people pass, flickering the visage of Brian as he patiently waited on the other side.
Ken said, “What makes you sure there’s a video?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure there’s a video. Unless someone’s lying to me. To us.”
“What do you think would happen if you showed Maggie the video?”
Max said, “I came here thinking that if I could get it, if she saw herself the way you saw her ... That if she saw herself on video, she would hate it. Hate the things she does. And that would help her to stop.”
“That’s a long way to come for a video. Did you think of just emailing me?”
“Not the kind of thing you do over email, Ken.”
“I suppose not.”
Max said, “I’ll let you go. I guess I wasted my time.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Max.”
Max stood up and held a hand to help Ken. When Ken was standing he said, “You could call her. You could let her know you saw us.”
“I can’t do that, Max.”
“Maybe we could save her,” he said hopefully.
“I hear what you’re saying, Max. I just don’t like it. I don’t like subterfuge. I would never want to trick my sister.”
“It’s the truth. You did see us.”
“I just don’t want to be a part of something like this.”
“Call her and tell her you saw it. But don’t tell her I came here.”
“You see, this is what I’m saying,” he said and winced, turning away from Max and nodding to Brian.
Max said, “I understand, Ken. I sound crazy. Maybe I am crazy. It might seem like all I care about is myself, sometimes I think what I do—it’s only for me and I hate that. I hate it because I love your sister. I love her and I’m going to marry her.”
“Take care, Max,” Ken said and extended a hand to shake.
Max looked in his eyes, both of them wary, then averting their gazes. He shook Ken’s hand. “Good to see you, Ken.”
“I have to get going now. I came here for a lot of things and I don’t want to miss them. Hug my sister for me,” he said, then stopped to add: “unless that gives away you were here.”
As he walked away Max patted him on the back and put his hands in his pockets. Ken wove through the passing crowds to rejoin Brian. They both tossed their coffee cups in a trashcan and then got very close and spoke to each other quietly. Brian put his hand on Ken’s waist while they whispered in each other’s ears. Then the two of them gave Max a wave and a nod and headed to the escalator, on their way to lunch and then to watch the CRISPR demo.
7
Witness
Saturday, October 21st
“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 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 between 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.