by KT Morrison
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 hand caressed her neck 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 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 …?” Jessie 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 po
inted 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 gorgeous 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.
8
Claim
Saturday, October 21st
“Are you going to come?” she whispered in Cole’s ear as he drove himself into her hard.
“Yeah, mm,” he grunted. “I’m close.”
“Ah,” she gasped, eager to feel his eruption. She moiled her hips against his thrusts for a while then whispered, “Come on my face.”
He slowed. “What?”
“I want you to come on my face.”
“You want that?”
“Claim me ... make me yours.”
His thrusts slowed, and he held his head back to look in her eyes. “You sure?”
“You come in other girls’ faces?”
He held her gaze but said nothing.
“Make me yours, Cole.”
His thrust continued, hesitatingly, and he bit his sexy lower lip.
She said, “You don’t want to?”
“I want to so bad, Maggie. You’ve got my heart so worked up,” he whispered, and he took her hand in his and lay it over his chest.
She smiled and felt his hot skin, could feel the pounding of his strong heart under her palm. “Okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he gasped and nodded.
“I really want it, Cole.”
His lips trembled, and he fucked her harder while he looked in her eyes with his hand on hers as it lay over his heart. He built it up, got himself right on the edge and she never took her eyes from his. Their breaths came faster and faster, his thrusting quicker and more urgent. She felt him leaking inside her.
“Okay, Cole, okay ...?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, and he withdrew, jumped up to his knees and she scooted to the pillows and sat with her legs apart.
He got himself close to her, his cock swinging and bobbing before he gripped it and began to jerk himself furiously.
“I want it,” she whispered, and she ran her hands up his thighs and held his balls.
There was a tremble in the muscles of his legs, a flutter in his belly as he stroked himself. Knowing he was close excited him, anticipating the enormity of this moment was driving him. This was going to end with an incredible bonding. He drew it out, and she waited, enjoying the anxious breadth of the moment.
She whispered, “Do it, do it, claim me, Cole.”
His stroke came faster, her eyes narrowed but wanting to see, looking and seeing the veins bulging in his hand, his foreskin stretching and puckering, the head of his cock swollen to bursting proportion, could see slippery excitement seeping from his hole.
“That's it, that's it,” she gasped, her breaths coming as heavily and urgently as Cole’s.
He grunted, “Close, mm, close your eyes.”
“I want to watch.”
“Seriously, Maggie, it, ah, it stings if it gets-s in your eyes.”
“How do you know?”
“Just open your mm-mouth ...”
She did, let her mouth fall open, pressed her tongue down and let the tip slip over her lower lip.
“Oh, fuck, Maggie … ah, Maggie …” Cole blurted, and she closed her eyes now, felt Cole's hand on her neck, turned her face up to his, gave her the most placid and beatific expression she could. Let her mouth fall open and extended her tongue farther.
Cole roared, the hot animalistic sounds ripping from him charging up her insides, swelling her heart and supercharging her sex. His stroking stopped suddenly and Cole came.
She bubbled wetly between her legs at his masculine expulsion. She felt it then, hot flashes on her face. Up over her forehead, across her cheek, into her eyes, blocking a nostril, splashing in her mouth. She breathed and stretched her tongue farther, curled it till it touched the point of her chin, desperate to feel his seed on her tongue. He landed it there, a hot mess that trickled down into her throat and her tongue darted back to curl it and taste it.
It kept coming; across her nose, pooling in the cup of her left eyeball ... She felt it dribbling down her neck, from her face and onto her collar. The whole while Cole's hand pumped and squeezed, his grunts and roars and groans over top of the slick sound of his hand on his cock.
She wished to encourage him, wanted to say how she loved it but her mouth was held open for him, wanting him to enjoy this moment; and he did. When the spurting stopped, and all that was left was the roar of his breathing, he slipped the head of his penis into her mouth and she took it, swallowed it, let it go right back to her throat then drew her lips to a point, swallowed all that still dribbled from him.
“Oh, my God, holy shit, Maggie,” Cole gulped as he took his penis from her mouth and dropped to sit on his heels, both his hands on her neck.
He held her, pulled her close to him, their chests slipping across one another with the wetness of his discharge. She felt so loved in his arms, cradled and safe. She dug the pad of a thumb through her eye and cleared it, tried blinking and felt the sting of his semen. She murmured complaint, and he hugged her tighter.
“Ow,” she said, and put the back of her wrist into her eye socket.
Cole let her go, and she bent forward, letting his semen drip to the bedding. But he was on her then, and she felt the warmth of the sweatshirt he wore pressed to her eye and cleaning her. He did it lovingly, with care, cleaning his discharge from her, soft purring groan in his chest as he did.
She stopped him before he could finish, pushed his hand away. She blinked, saw a fractal image of his handsome face watching her with concern. She smiled, said, “That was really hot.”
“You’re mine now,” he said in a low quiet voice.
She nodded but said nothing in return. And then he held her again, pulled her to him and ran his hands in circles around her back and her waist.
She whispered, “Can you take a picture?”
He stiffened. “Are you sure?”
“I think so. I don’t want to leave him out. I don’t want him to be separate from us.”
“Yeah, but ...”
He held her aw
ay from him but she could barely see with her eyes still squinted and stinging.
“Take a picture,” she said again.
His body heat left her as he got off the bed and made his way to Jessie’s, retrieving the phone where she dropped it.
“Holy shit, Maggie,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re not going to believe it ...”
“What is it?” she asked, a growing anxiety coming up her back.
“Look,” he said.
“I can’t,” she said, blinking her eyes again.
“Look,” he repeated.
Slowly her eyes opened, lashes fluttering uncontrollably. Cole stood at the side of the bed and he held the phone for her to look.
She murmured, “What ...? I can’t ...”
He moved the phone closer.
There under the last text he had sent—the image of his bulbous cock head underneath her shaved pussy—Cole had texted: Thumbs up, buddy, if you want more. And below that, sent from her sweet Max, the emoji of a large thumbs-up.
“He got back to us,” she softly sang. “Oh, my Maxy.”
“He’s not mad at us,” Cole said, turning the phone so he could look again.
“I told you,” she said.
“You feel better now?”
“I do. I feel a lot better.”
“You really want ...? Want me to take this picture?”
“Do I look bad?”
“You look beautiful.”
“Take it, please,” she said. Then added, “Not my whole face, just my mouth and nose, okay?”
“Hold still,” he told her and she closed her eyes and tilted her chin toward him.
He asked, “Max never, you know ...?”
“Came in my face?”
“Did he?”
“You’re the first.”
The sound of the shutter came from the camera and he sat then on the bed. “Did you like it?”
“I liked it ‘cause it was you,” she said, then his warm sweatshirt was back, wiping at her face and she leaned herself against him as he cleaned her.