Tempting Maggie

by KT Morrison

  “Can you see me?” he said.

  “No,” she said. “Can you see the bed?”

  “Move,” he said.

  She stepped to the side, looked over to the bed herself, figured his way was clear.

  He said, “Yeah.”

  “You’re all set?”

  “Oh boy, yeah, I am. I’m all set.”

  “Max—don’t touch yourself while you’re in there, okay?”

  “Not at all?”

  “Just don’t make yourself...come. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean it. I want to make love as soon as he’s gone.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Torque

  Thursday, September 21st

  He sat under the sawhorse and it was comfortable. She’d made a nice spot for him. Even put a cushion on the floor for him to sit on. She was very considerate. It was a lot more comfortable than when he’d stuffed himself in here a few days ago. His body twisted up, his heart wrenched, his cock poking sideways, strangled in his underwear. Today he would watch and hopefully he would get those feelings again, but hopefully, now that he was relatively honest with Maggie, it would be...enjoyable. Less painful, less worried. She could do whatever she wanted. He’d told her. Today he might really enjoy this. He hoped Maggie would too.

  She came back and kneeled at the mouth of the closet. She peered in at him, her face drawn with worry.

  “Max,” she said, “what are we doing?”

  “It's okay, Maggie,” he said from behind the drop cloth. “I want this. I do. I want it for me...and I want to for you too.”

  “You're hiding in a closet.”

  “I know.”

  “What's wrong with us?”

  “Do you want me to leave? Do you want to do it alone…”

  “No… Oh, no. Definitely not, Max… That's not it. This is so stupid. You're hiding in a closet.”

  He laughed, “Yeah, and you wanted me to be naked.”

  She smiled, then covered it up with both hands over her face. “I did. I know. I...I don't know, maybe I do like this.”

  The sight of her on her knees before him, bashful girl-face peeking out at him between her hands, electrified him. She was excited. Her energy was intoxicating.

  “You’re good you know.”

  “Good at what?” she said.

  “Sucking cock.”

  “Max! Oh my God. You are so gross,” she laughed.

  “I made you laugh.”

  She peered through the gap in the drop cloth, her head tilted with affection. “You're good, Max. You are a good man. I always knew you were.”

  “Promise me you'll have fun.”

  “Boy,” she sighed, rolling her eyes and looking up to the ceiling.

  “Relax. Everything is okay.”

  “Okay, Max.”

  She walked back to her bed, looked to see if she could see him, didn’t. He said, “I’m watching,” and she smiled and waved. She got her sketchbook from the drawer, threw it on the bed, crossed to a chest at the foot of her bed and took out her pastels and charcoals and put the tin next to her sketchbook. She unzipped her pants and she peeled them down. His cock twitched watching her. She was sexier than ever. His Maggie transforming in front of him. The last two days she was like someone else. He’d watched her touch another boy...watched her masturbate...what was she doing now?

  She stood by her bed, sun streaming in through her curtains, touching her shapely legs with light. Arched her back now, and pulled that floral top off. She was just in a bra and her panties, standing in bare feet. She walked to her dresser, opened it and took out a folded yellow T-shirt. Jay’s shirt. She tossed it to the bed, then, her back facing him, her hands came up and undid her bra, let it fall off her shoulders and onto the bed. She bent, her ass sticking toward him, and peeled her panties down, showing him all her newly shaved parts, open and exposed.

  “What are you up to?” he laughed from his blind.

  She shushed him. Stood naked, took Jay’s shirt and unfolded it, shook it out, turned now so he could see her bare sexy front, nipples hard already. Turned the shirt around to find the front, slipped it on over her head and let it fall to the tops of her thighs. If she lifted her arms, Jay would see the thing Max had shaved for him.

  “Shit,” he whispered in the closet, aching for his sexy woman. His cock twitched again and he streamed precum already, could feel it sliding down and tangling in his pubic hair and tickling his balls. He didn’t touch himself, though he didn't know how long he could stay strong.

  Maggie looked out the window, standing on her toe tips and looking down over the quad. “Oh God,” she said. “Oh Max, he’s coming.” All her confident charm of the last few minutes washed away and he was sort of glad to hear his shy Maggie back.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too, Max,” she said.

  She went then to the foot of the bed, looked at herself in the dresser mirror, fixed her hair, preened, turning side to side to see how she looked.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  She smiled towards the crack in the open closet door, smiled for him. Then she was picking up the new handkerchief, tied in a bow, and she rolled it around her hands in nervous circles. Pacing and waiting.

  There was a knock on the door and she jumped. A pop from her ankle as she danced around nervous and excited that he was here. She put her hand on the door and then she opened it.

  “Hi Jay,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. “Come on in.”

  Here he was. The man who made her wet. Jay Carmichael. The well-hung wrestling stud and son of Farmingham’s intellectual jewel. He walked past her, his head turned, smiling probably because Maggie was sure beaming up at him. He tossed his book bag onto her bed, said, “How’ve you been?”

  “I’m good, Jay. How about you?” She was different. Breathy and bubbly. Her eyes shone and there was color on her cheeks. An unfading smile on her plump lips. Jay really did it for her.

  “You’re okay? After last time I—”

  “Ahp,” she blurted, and she darted close and said, “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about last time at all.” Her eyes were fixed to Jay’s but with his back to Max he couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Okay, Maggie,” he said. “You’re wearing my shirt again. I guess that’s a good sign...”

  “I like this shirt,” she said and she took the hem and pulled it wide. Just a few inches higher and Jay would get a good look at her sweet cleft, her freshly shaved sex. Max twitched again, he wanted her to show it to him. He wanted Jay to see her. See her that way.

  “You make it sexy,” he laughed. “Might as well keep it, huh? I love to see you in it.”

  “I don’t fill it out like you do,” she flirted girlishly.

  “Believe me,” he laughed, “You look better in it than I do.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she smiled and she touched his arm. Jay’s head turned and watched her fingers on him and Max saw his expression change. He and Maggie both knew now that today was going to be different. But Maggie turned away, showed Jay her back and went to the head of her bed and gathered her drawing tools. She bent and moved them around her pillow where she could reach them. Jay ogled her from behind and Max ached for that shirt hem to come up high enough that the bare curve of her bottom would be revealed. Jay would see, and know that Maggie hadn’t worn any panties for their session today. Then he’d know—he’d know what she wanted. He would get hard, that big cock would rise up off his lap even if he had jerked off before he got here like Maggie had asked him on Tuesday.

  The hem rose so high, almost to the crease of her cheek. It was high enough to captivate Jay’s attention. His eyes went up her bare legs, took in her bare feet, her slender back moving underneath his T-shirt. Maggie took her time. Doing her machinations slow, letting her boy-toy get a good long look at her. She was driving Max wilder than Jay.

  “And what are we doing to
day?” he asked her with quiet confidence.

  One knee went up on the bed and she turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, face happy but scared. “I don’t know yet,” she whispered. “I don’t know at all.”

  The muscles of Jay’s back swelled and jumped as he gave a quiet chuckle. He took his shirt off. One easy move, waiting to make sure Maggie’s eyes were on him, his hands crossed over one another. The shirt peeled off in a practiced move, the same as he’d done last time. Sucked in stomach thrust out, muscles of his abdomen bulging, thick arms tugging the shirt away and then tossing the balled up fabric onto her bed. Maggie watched. Maggie admired. Her eyes didn't waver this time. Not bashful like on Tuesday. Today she watched. Max swelled with excitement. The look on her face, her lugubrious appreciation of this male specimen excited him. She was turned on.

  Maggie still stood, one foot on her floor, one knee bent and planted in her mattress. Jay got closer. His bare chest slowly heaved with his breaths. Maggie’s eyes darted over him.

  In a low voice, he said, “You going to tie me up today?”

  Maggie’s eyes wandered nervously towards his, she said, “No, not today.”

  “I liked it when you tied me up.”

  Then she said, “I want your hands free today.”

  Max jumped in the closet. Like a shock had passed through him.

  “What do you want me to do with my hands?” Jay said slyly.

  Shy Maggie returned and she smiled and looked away, bashful and demure again. Intimidated by Jay.

  She looked back then, and she said, “Use them to take those pants off, Jay.”

  The toe of his shoe peeled a sneaker off, then he kicked off the other. The whole time his eyes held Maggie’s gaze and she didn’t shy away. Barefoot, his hands worked his button, drew down the zipper of his cotton pants. Maggie faltered. She broke eye contact first. Looking down, wanting to see what he was revealing. Pants and underwear were hiked low by his grip. Hips thrust out, tugging his pants down a bit at a time, slowly letting his manhood be exposed. She watched.

  It was out then, heavy and swinging, so large even flaccid. Then he bent and lifted knees to get himself naked. He stood again, now completely bare, in front of his innocent Maggie. Her eyes roamed again, made their way back to his as he said, “What do you want me to do now?”

  Her legs parted and Max’s eyebrows raised up high in the closet. Knowing she was bare there, knowing the air would be touching her where she’s most private and that there was literally nothing in the room separating Jay’s big cock from his sweet girl’s bare sex. But Maggie pressed her sketchbook to her belly, covered herself up with it and she sat down, careful not to reveal anything to Jay, blocking his view of her naked pussy with her pad of paper. Once in place, a smile beamed on her face and she opened her legs, let them go wide as she got herself to sit cross legged on her bed.

  “What are you smiling at?” Jay laughed.

  “Oh, nothing,” she cooed. Her eyes darted to where Max sat in the closet. Yes, you are a bad girl. She’d spread herself for Jay. Technically, he couldn’t see because the sketchbook was in the way, but his kinky fiancée seemed to get quite the thrill just the same. Her cheeks grew some color and her smile didn't fade.

  Jay said, “You seem a little different today, Maggie.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, I like it,” he said. “You seem happy.”

  She guessed she was happy. There was a relief there. And with the weight she’d been carrying—guilt, worry, shame, regret, and errant lust—gone now, she realized she was...happy. Her Max was watching. He said she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t know what it was she wanted to do but there was a lightness through her now, a freedom.

  “Show me how you want to pose,” she said.

  “You want me to show you?” he said, with a smile.

  “Not bashful, are you?” she said with strange boldness, even putting a pastel pencil between her teeth while she smiled around it.

  He looked at her wryly, a confidence there reminding her that she was the bashful one and she shouldn’t be challenging him unless she wanted to get in trouble. Maybe she wanted to get in trouble.

  Jay put one of his knees on her bed. His legs were parted now and she watched his penis swing with lazy contemptuous weight between his thighs. He’d already swollen in size. An arm draped over the curved brass rail of her bed’s footboard. Muscles rippled and twisted, sinew and tendons pushing against his caramel skin and making sharp shadows in the stark light from the window.

  “That’s how you want to pose?” she said with a dry voice.

  “It’s comfortable,” he said and he let his weight settle on his bent arm.

  “You look good,” she assured him with a sheepish little-girl smile. Her hands wrung the spiral binding of her sketchbook, curling the pad ever so slightly, hoping he might get the tiniest peek into the shade between her legs and see that she wasn’t wearing panties. See that she was a very bad girl. She curled the edge higher and watched his eyes, said, “You look amazing.”

  There was something there. A sparkle. Maybe a recognition. Maybe a curiosity piqued. Her flexing hands had caught his attention, his eyes had lowered. He might have seen her sex. Maybe the only other boy besides her Max to look between her legs. She tingled all over suddenly. Her thighs flexed and cramped and her toes wriggled without her consent.

  “Okay,” she whispered, and she leaned to the side, rolled on one cheek and grabbed a charcoal pencil, wondering if she was revealing something to him right now. He’d be looking.

  When she sat back up he was still in his pose, eyes narrow, lowered to her, a smirk tugging softly at the corner of his plump mouth. She averted her eyes, feeling a little overwhelmed by the fluttering in her tummy. Even her breaths were shaky. The charcoal scratched across the rough paper, finding something that looked like the forms she was seeing. Her hand swiveled loosely on her wrist, all her motion coming from her shoulder blade and somewhere in her elbow. She sucked and chewed her lips nervously, eyes darting up and down from gorgeous model to paper. Noticing as she went there were changes needing to be made. His expression was telling. The other days when his erection had begun he’d been genuine about his remorse over his arousal. He didn’t want to ruin her drawing. Today his eyes met hers as his penis took on glorious size. Bobbing between his legs, getting heavier, filling with blood, veins starting to stand out on it. Today he was proud of what was happening below his waist.

  She watched it grow. Right in front of her, his penis flopped towards his thigh. Not a heavy movement. A twisting. Like it was suddenly wrenched with torque. Something driving it, something mechanical in him, putting gears into motion, enlivening that thing between his legs, putting it into action, giving it the blood it needed to perform the function it was designed for. Some design too. Jay’s glans was big and aggressively shaped. She’d drawn her fair share of penises. Usually giving a cursory sort of effort, delivering an idea of shape and scale, but generally ignoring detailed structure. But Jay’s penis was impressive. Even now, somewhere between hard and soft, it was magnificent. She’d seen it hard. Seen the final shape it would take. It was mesmerizing watching it get there. The plump rim of his cock, the corona, swelling and flaring as he grew aroused, like the hood of a cobra. Threatening. It slid against his leg, getting longer and heavier, a throb in it now, pumps of his heart.

  Then, of all embarrassment, there was a tiny, sticky, flatulent sound. Her vagina. She was wet. So excited by the prospect of touching Jay—of being touched by Jay—that she’d sweated a spate of her sticky dew. A tiny high sound of bubbles popping in her tight folds as she sat cross legged. She cleared her throat, tried to chase the sound away. Her face went red hot.

  “Do I make you hard?” she said, her voice a crackling, breaking whisper, undulating and timid.

  “What?” he said with a growing smile.

  “Do I make you hard?” she said, looking at his cock again. It had lifted off his leg, hanging dow
n again, but gaining its own volition, rising to greet her.

  “You make me so hard, Maggie. You showing me your pussy?”

  “Am I?” she said, her voice still timid.

  “You want me to see it?”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Show me.”

  Her heart began to hammer. “You want to see it?”

  “Show me your pussy, Maggie. I want to see it. Open your legs.”

  She hesitated. Stiff as a board, joints dry and unresponsive. Stared at her Jay. Stared at this beautiful boy. His muscles, his sexuality. His arousal. She moved her sketchpad, lifted it, her crotch still in the shade, but his line of visibility was open now. He could see her.

  “Move your pad, Maggie,” he said.

  She put her charcoal and her sketchbook aside, laying it on the bed next to her hip and she regarded him. She was sitting cross legged wearing only his shirt, no panties. Her pussy dripping. Her lips sucked into her mouth, and her pulse pounded. She leaned back, cleared her throat and tossed her hair around, her eyes darting for a moment to the dark sliver of the open closet door. Put her hands behind her, her shoulders creeping up to her ears and she let her legs unfold. Slowly come apart, her calves sliding over one another, cooler air touching her warm wet creases. Jay looked at her pussy and it was like she’d been touched. She stifled a gasp.

  “You’ve got a beautiful pussy, Maggie.”

  Now she did gasp, her head rocked weakly on her shoulders, she blinked profusely.

  “You shaved it? You shave it for me?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I used to see your hair. In your panties, around...”

  “Oh,” she said, embarrassed, her legs closing, her brow furrowing, biting her lip.

  “No, no, Maggie,” he said, coming closer to her and she reeled, seeing him on her bed like this, moving to her. “That made me hard. Remember?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed, sitting so close to her, turned to his side, feet on the floor, chest opened to her. His hands were flat on the bed on either side of her feet. He was so close to touching her. She couldn’t breathe. She was trying, but she couldn't breathe.