Tempting Maggie

by KT Morrison

She turned away from Jay and she stared with wide eyes across the room, practically right at Max in the closet. Her lips trembled. Her eyes trembled. She chewed her lower lip. Her hands formed fists again, and she folded her arms over her bra, flexed til they shook. She looked like she would panic.

  Max didn’t know what to think. His heart pounded at what he’d witnessed. The girl he loved engaging in something so awful, something that was such a violation he should call it off with her. Call the wedding off at least. Postpone it. He needed time to think. That would be sensible. But he didn’t feel like that. His penis dribbled with his own semen and the touch of his glans against his underwear was like touching a live wire. He was afraid he would come in his pants tight now. He was so aroused by seeing her like that. Not just touching Jay sexually—it was the desire in her to touch another man like that. He didn’t know what her passion was like and seeing it excited him even though sense would dictate that he couldn’t trust her. She struggled, did everything she could not to hurt Max. She’d gone too far, but she’d considered him. It quelled his jealousy. Rubbed his anger’s sharp edges and allowed him a little enjoyment of the dirtiest thing he had ever seen.

  Maggie’s mouth trembled, turned down, and she shook her head vigorously, thumped her own fist softly to her delicate forehead. She turned then, faced Jay, and Max worried what she might do next. But she leaned over her mattress and snagged the yellow shirt she’d pulled off and balled it up. Stood, feet touching Jay’s. His cock, still engorged but dwindling, hung low between his legs. A short strand of semen hung jiggling from his tip. Maggie pressed the balled shirt to his belly, and he flexed it. Made it hard for her and she cleaned him, running the cotton all over the ridges of his mid-section. She worked lower on him, down to his pubic hair. She bundled the shirt up, then gave it one quick wipe down his cock. She’d felt him. Felt his erection. Through bundled fabric, but she had touched another man’s erection. Fuck.

  She thrust it to his belly then, held it, then took her hand away and Jay took it up before it tumbled down him and to the floor. Maggie’s head was shaking again, like she was mad at herself, mad at what had happened. She threw herself to sit down at the head of the bed and she covered her face.

  Jay wiped at his cock, squeezed himself into it, watched her. He said, “You okay? ...Maggie? ...”

  She breathed into her palms. said, “I’m fine. I just...I’m...”

  “You didn’t do anything, it’s okay...”

  “I want to.”

  “You can...”

  She still spoke into her hands, her voice muffled. Said, “No, don’t. Don’t say that. I can’t cheat on him...I won’t. I want to. I want to so bad...”

  Jay watched her. Threw the shirt aside on to her bed, stood in the pose she’d put him in, hand on hip. She sat and did nothing. Just breathed into her hands. Her shoulders slumped with sadness. Jay turned at his waist and used his free hand to untie himself. He went to her. Sat naked at her side. He said, “It’s okay. Is it all right if I hold you?”

  She said, “I don’t care.” Then, “Yes...please. Hold me.”

  Jay put his thick arm over her shoulders, his hand coming to grip her upper arm. His other hand went over her thin knee. He said, “Tell me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  She exhaled into her palms, then took her hands away. Her eyes glistened wetly. She clasped her hands in front of her, rested them over his hand on her. She chewed the inside of her lip, then quietly said, “I’m...I’ve only had sex with my fiancé and one other boy. And that was just one time...in high school. I love Max but I feel like we’ll be married forever in under a year, and I...I never got to...”

  “Have fun?”

  “I guess. Yeah. I don’t think about it, but when I see you...I...I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “That’s normal. What you feel is normal, Maggie,” he said, shaking her lightly with his arm.

  “I know it’s normal, I wish I didn't feel like this. That’s all. I’m not going to cheat on him. I wish...I wish I’d had more experience when I was younger. Max is all I want forever, but there’s so much I didn’t do.”

  “If you ever want to—”

  “No, Jay,” she blurted, looking right in his eyes, the two of their faces so close together. And it was like she suddenly realized it. She stopped then, just a creak coming from her throat. Her eyes went up and down Jay, from his eyes, to that heap of flesh piled in his lap.

  “Oh, uh,” she said, shifting from him, getting out from under his arm. “I can’t...Jay...I’m sorry. I can’t do anymore today...I...I’ll pay you, but can you leave?” She stood.

  He said, “Are you mad at me?” His face turned to hers, lit by the sunlight coming over her shoulder. Maggie was nervous, her hands wringing together, her one foot creeping over her other, turning at an awkward and shy angle.

  “No, I’m not...” she said, looking away, then said, “You shouldn’t be here like this.”

  He stood up now, standing naked before her, her side turned to him, looking away. He looked for a moment like he would hold her. Then he sighed, and he went to the foot of the bed and collected his clothing off the floor. While he got himself dressed Maggie opened the top drawer of her night stand and she brought out some bills. She counted it out with her back to him and he slipped his shoes on. He got his book bag, and she turned, came to him in her underwear and she held the money out to him.

  “Here,” she said. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Jay. Are you mad at me?”

  “I don’t want your money,” he said, putting up a hand.

  “You posed for me.”

  “I’m here for you...”

  “If you don’t take it, it’s...not professional.”

  “If I take it, it’s like you’re paying to watch me...you know...”

  “Oh,” she gasped. Understanding, suddenly, that it was akin to prostitution. “Oh, no. It’s not like that...don’t think that...take it,” she said, and she tucked the bills in the front pocket of his jeans, her hands moving on him, so close to where he stored his weapon.

  “Maggie...”

  “Please, I made you come all the way here...”

  “I’m here anyway—”

  “No, Jay. No. I pay you to pose. That’s the only reason you’re here...”

  Jay softened. His finger touched her bare chest, and it sent another bolt through Max. He hissed in the closet, covered his mouth.

  “I like you, Maggie. Whatever makes you feel good here,” he said, stroking his finger between her breasts, over where her heart beat. Maggie’s eyes fluttered, her mouth hung open.

  She whispered, “Can you come again tomorrow?”

  “No. What about Thursday?”

  “Thursday. Same time?”

  “Is that okay?”

  She nodded, her face seemed a little happier that they were working things out. “I have to draw next time. Can you...make yourself...” She whispered, “...Come... Before you get here?”

  “Can you keep yourself covered?” he laughed.

  “Was it my fault?” she smiled.

  “Your fiancé is the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “I’ll see you Thursday,” she said.

  “Thursday,” he nodded with a handsome smile and he turned and went to the door.

  “Hey,” she stopped him, her voice breathy and high.

  “What?” he said, and he turned, his hand still on the knob.

  She padded across her room, bashful, and when she got to Jay, she put her arms around him and she hugged him. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “Okay, Maggie,” he said, and he put one arm around her, his hand feeling the bare skin of her back. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “See you Thursday.”

  “Bye,” she said, and she let him go.

  Jay left, and she held the door a moment watching him walk down the hallway. She closed the door softly, then pressed her forehead to it. She stood like that for a while, breathing, making a high groaning
sound. She flicked the lock on the door and she shuffled slackly to her bed and sat on it.

  Her toes pointed in, her thighs pressed together, her hands clasped between her knees. Her head drooped low, her shoulders sloped down like she had no strength in her. She started to cry. It killed him to see her in so much turmoil. She made the soft sad whispering sounds of a little girl who didn’t want to be caught crying. Alone in her bedroom. It was such a violation to watch her. He couldn’t take his eyes away.

  Her shoulders shook with her sobs, and he saw a tear twinkle in the sunlight before it splashed on her bare thigh. She sniffed loudly, wiped her face with both hands. Her eyes were red and watery. She looked around her room and she turned her face up to the sun streaming in the window. “God, why?” she whispered. “Fuck.”

  She stood up again, chewing her lip, then looked at her bed. She squat down, now alarmed. Plucked the fabric of her duvet in her fingers and held it up. Let it down then and felt it with her hands, watching carefully, her eyes at the level of the bed. Her hand swooped across the fabric in circles and then she flinched, made an audible gasp. She jumped up, her hand twisted away from herself awkwardly, her face scrunched, looking at her hand. A blob of Jay’s semen sagged from the heel of her palm.

  “Aw, no,” she said, turning her nose up. Watched the strand jiggle and stretch thin, threatening to drip to the floor. She slapped her hand on the bed and dried it on the cotton. Then bundled up the shirt and the duvet in a heap and thrust it to the door where it hit, then slipped down to the floor.

  She whisked her curtain closed, drawing it halfway so her side of the room was in shade. Looked down at the quad again, then her hands came behind her, fingers working the clasp of her bra. Her breasts poked up over the cup as it released, then she let it slip off her shoulders and down her arms. Maggie had pretty breasts. Small but beautifully shaped, upright and soft with the palest flower-petal-pink nipples that grew cherry at the tips. Her nipples swelled when they were released, the shapes of them stretching away from her breast. Turned her back then to the window and he could see her face, see her rosy cheeks and her glistening eyes. Thumbs hooked in the sides of her panties and she slid them down her legs and stepped out of them. Now his girl was naked. He knew what she would do. His heart was breaking for her but at the same time it was his own heart breaking. She was killing him, destroying him, knocking away everything he knew about her—but he cared for her, wanted to hold her. If he knew she wouldn't be livid with him, he’d step out of here right now and tell her it was all okay. He’d make love to her.

  Would she even want him now? That Jay would have fucked her. And he made her face blush, her nipples swell. When he left the room, she wanted to masturbate. Did she ever think about her fiancé when she masturbated?

  She sat one cheek down on her bare bed and pulled her sketchbook over. Flipped back a page, looking at one of her completed drawings of Jay. Her hand went up and down her thigh, pressing her flesh, the sound of her skin-on-skin heard in his dark closet. Her up-strokes got higher and then her fingers worked their way between her legs. Maggie was proudly unshaven down there. A dense and fruity patch between her legs. Dark hair in wisps, growing in a curve towards her center. She wanted her pubic hair and he, frankly, liked it. That was his Maggie. Underarms too—some hair there as well she wore as independence. Max liked it. That's who she was. She shaved her legs; she said she liked the feel. He was glad for that though he wouldn't have fought it.

  She stared at her own drawing and her index finger curled, stroking at herself. She sighed, knocked her sketchpad higher up the bed and scooted over to lie down. This was bad. He couldn't interrupt her, couldn't stop her. If he came out, it would be a tremendous violation revealed. She would murder him.

  This was so, so wrong. But now he would stay, and the stakes were much worse. She was about to reveal something so embarrassingly intimate to him. No matter how much he loved her and they were to wed, she would be hurt and furious about this. But he was frozen—stuck in this place he chose, and he would sit here and he would watch her jerk off thinking about another boy. This was his punishment.

  He squeezed the bulge in his chinos, felt how hard this made him. The whole thing. Even seeing her with that boy. He should hate it. Those feelings were there, he did hate it—it put a painful lump in his belly, and swelled up to his esophagus, he could feel it when he swallowed—and yet he was wrought and twisted with excitement. He wanted to watch her touch herself. He wished he'd recorded her with that Jay. He'd watch it again. He'd watch it and he'd jerk himself off, too. Just like his Maggie. He'd watch her, relive that moment when she spit in his hand, watched him stroke himself, watched her hand cradle his big balls while the come shot out of him. Fuck. He flexed his ass and felt precum flow from him like a tap.

  She pushed her head into her pillow, her body low, her chin tucked into her collar. Her legs went open, the outside of her thighs coming to rest on her bed. Her feet drew up, her heels almost touching, spread like a frog. She closed her eyes and sucked her lips under her teeth. One hand pulled up on her mound, fingers tugging the soft flesh there, angling it, while her other hand lay across her thatch of hair. Her index finger and her pinky arcing away from her delicate hand while her two middle fingers stroked the center of her sex.

  Her fingers worked up and down, making wet sounds now. Her legs moved on the sheets, her other hand swept up and smoothed over her tummy, drawing in tight now, forming a concave shallow. Her breaths grew quicker, soft sounds scraping the back of her throat and huffing out her nose. She hooked her middle finger and penetrated herself, her hand worked in circles, her finger plunging and stroking, swiping up and buzzing over her own clit. She was going to make him come in his pants.

  She squeezed and played with her own breasts. Her pretty hand rolling and tweaking her nipple, playing with its shape. As she got wetter, the smacking sounds of her pink flesh being worked got louder. Her lips parted and her breaths gasped from her. Her legs opened and closed slowly as her gasps turned to light moans and her finger worked stronger, going like mad, buried in her flesh and mushing on her button. Her moans grew louder still, the slick sounds faster, and she thrust her hips to push her sex against her own manipulations. “Oh, oh,” she sighed as she got close.

  His scalp tingled, his own heart raced. She tightened suddenly, drew a long breath of air that hissed through her nostrils, her legs coming together but not closing. “Aw, oh, aw, mm, mm...” She made high breathy sounds of satisfaction as she brought herself to orgasm thinking about Jay. He squeezed his own stomach in, felt his precum slippery throughout his pubic hair and up his belly. He trembled, if he touched himself right now he would come in his pants. He squeezed his ass muscles over and over trying to control it. Control it, and enjoy it at the same time.

  That was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen. His Maggie like that, turned on and sexual, it was so exciting. Thinking of her being aroused by that other guy was making him crazy. Crazy but he liked it. What if she touched Jay’s cock? What if she couldn't stop herself and she gripped him and stroked that fat thing until the come shot all over her, ran down her knuckles?

  “Oh,” he gasped and had to tense every muscle he had below his ribs before he spewed it all into his underwear. She didn't hear him, her flat hand now smoothing up and down her patch, her folds slipping in the creases of her fingers. She sighed then and laughed, her eyes still closed. Drew her legs up, turned them to the side and lay on her hip, her bare ass facing him. She was looking at her drawing again.

  Chapter Five

  FarmFresh

  Tuesday, September 19th

  Maggie got herself off the bed. Her heart-rate subsided and remorse washed in. What had she done?

  That was so wrong.

  That wasn’t her. What was happening to her? She’d been fighting it. Fighting her thoughts of Jay. But she couldn’t help herself.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, squinting and hunching forward. If Max found out? ... Fuc
k. If poor Max had walked in...

  She shook her head savagely, her hair scratching at her shoulders. She roared, snarled and pushed those thoughts away. Max’s face, the moment his heart was broken, standing in the door witnessing the girl he loved betraying him...

  “No, no, no,” she cried. She thrust herself into motion. She had to get out of her room. It smelled in here. Smelled like sex. Not sex with Max...it smelled like...

  She whipped her drawer open and pulled out fresh panties, a shirt, some shorts. Got dressed. Her hands shook as she pulled her shorts up. The dirtied duvet was whipped from the floor and stuffed into her plastic hamper. Grabbed the balled up yellow shirt and shoved it down the side as well. She’d have it clean for Jay on Thursday...

  “No,” she said to her empty room. “No,” she repeated. Swiped her wallet now from the dresser, stormed around, found her flip-flops, shoved her stupid feet in them and got her hamper and got the heck out of that awful and humid room, slamming the door behind her.

  Hamper on hip, she marched stiffly down three flights of stairs to the dorm’s basement. Laundry room was well-lit, students laughing, hanging out while their clothing tumbled in machines. Happy people who weren’t out to ruin their lives and crush the souls of the people that loved them. She flung the disgusting bedding and shirt into a washing machine, took her FarmCard and swiped it through the electronic box. It beeped. Rejected.

  insufficient funds

  Her student card was empty. She’d let it run dry. That meant she’d have to call Father tonight for another top up.

  “Shoot,” she hissed softly, bumped her forehead with a loose fist. She laughed. Feeling a bit better out of that bordello she lived in.

  The bedding and shirt were pulled from the washing machine, slung back into the hamper and she threw it back on her hip and trotted up to the ground floor and outside.

  Four years at Farmingham and her eyes never came off the ball. She would graduate magna cum laude. Three weeks drawing the hottest guy she had ever seen in her whole life and all her stitching was pulling, everything coming apart. FarmCard empty, figure drawings not done, behind roughly 100,000 words on her reading list, an essay due in a week and all she had prepared was an outline. She thought about Jay all day long. Like she was in high school. Even once, incredibly, caught herself writing jay on her scratch pad during a lecture. This was so dangerous. If she had an ounce of sense, she would sever this bizarre relationship with Jay.