by KT Morrison
Jay worked his hips between her legs, his hand up her skirt and stroking her pussy. He guided his cock to her opening, lined it up with his hand and eased himself inside her. Maggie pressed a forearm to her eyes, hid behind it. Her mouth twisted with pain, baring her teeth in a snarl as she accepted her lover's large size. He stroked easily, shallowly, but after a long moment where they tried to get comfortable together he sunk himself fully and deeply into her and she cried out. Her sound came high and brittle, but it carried over the rushing water and rustling leaves.
Jay fucked her carefully at first. His hips bucking into her. Her thighs climbed up his, her ankles crossing over one another under his rump. Her arms circled around his neck, and now Max saw her face, saw the expression of passion that sex with Jay put on her. Her brows bowed mournfully, her mouth shaped in an O, her eyes closed but placid. Jay worked it into her in protracted circles. His size must have been buried in her given how closely they pressed together. Maggie’s nails scratched at the scalp behind his ears, and she said things to him that must have been encouraging.
He held her face in one hand and he spoke to her. Her eyes darted over his as she listened. He kept still, his hips pressed into her, his cock inside her, told her special things that made her eyes dance, her mouth hang open lustily. Then he was moving again. Pumping himself into her, and Maggie squirmed with it, her legs tightening, struggling for better purchase around his powerful legs. They kissed again.
It sunk in his belly like a heavy stone. The passion between them was pronounced. They made love, they kissed, they were intimate. This was a light year beyond fucking her in her dorm room. This was the beginning of something. Like the beginning of a meaningful relationship, one that was sexual and spiritual.
His mouth had gone dry again and he couldn't swallow. He ran his hand over his mouth. His upper lip had taken on a sweat that he wicked away. This was the most hurtful thing imaginable. Yet it was profoundly sexual. The pain congregated like an uncomfortable lump under his balls, hanging heavy below his guts—but it was slippery with his semen, it tickled the underside of his cock as if his Maggie was doing it with the tip of one of her graceful fingers. It was exquisite.
His eyebrows rose, his heart hammered. He loved her so much. He wanted her to have this pleasure. He wanted to have the pain. He cherished the pain she gave him. No one else could do this to him. He never cared for anyone like he cared for her. No one ever meant so much to him that he would feel this way. No one ever meant enough to him that he would enjoy watching them receive astounding pleasure. No one he knew deserved it like she did. Deserved it because she’d missed it when she was young. Deserved it because she was kind, and loving, and smart, and selfless, and talented. She was everything to him, and all their irregular edges came together so perfectly.
He’d allow her to cheat like this. He'd allow her to pursue the things that made slippery little pulses through her sex. Those dirty, awful things she might dare to think of occasionally when she touched herself. Like he’d hidden and watched her do. Watched her masturbate, watched her make herself come, knowing full well that it wasn't him she thought about. Aroused by the fact that his wife was a sexual being and she had dark corners to her psyche just like he did. All the more reason they were meant for each other. She cried out sharply and passionately again as Jay dug himself deep and bit her neck, his hand clutching a handful of her blue and platinum ponytail. Her cry pierced high and bright and it touched him. He loved those noises she made. Loved to watch her be made to make them. His cock streamed his excitement into his pants and he felt a warm spot growing cold against his thigh.
“Fuck, Maggie,” he whispered, watching their lust building.
Jay pounded her now. Grinding and thrusting. His face curled to meanness, her face snarling in ecstasy. Her thighs had climbed above his ass, ankles riding the hard, curved edge of his muscular rump. He lifted her from the tree. Held her in his arms and fucked her while he stood. Her ponytail swung and snapped behind her. She bounced on him with passionate action. Her head lolling, her face twisted in awful pleasure.
He turned with her, kissing her neck, fell on top of her as she was lowered onto the granite boulder. He held the back of her head lovingly, ensuring she wouldn't be hurt when he lay her back. He fucked her again. His hips driving into her madly, eager to fill her up. She wanted it. Wanted her lover to fill her, wanted to feel his seed splash her guts. He could tell by her head twisting on the rock, her nails formed to claws on his shoulders, her heels dug into his rump, urging his thrusts deeper and faster. Sounds were called out be he hardly heard them. She gasped and cried, her lips mouthed the word Yes, over and over.
Jay was over her now, his hands on either side of her ribs, palms spread on the rock. Her hands had slipped under his jacket, probably getting a good feel of his beautiful muscle. His abs, the ridge of his chest. Her skirt was hiked up to her waist like this, and he saw the bare curve of her ass and her thighs, could even see in bright pink flashes that wet piece of her in between her legs. Saw it being gored by the big, thick, brown thing that her lover had between his. Jay's jeans were still up, his cock poking large and arrow-straight from between the parted fly. Maggie's feet bobbed weakly on her ankles in time with her lover’s thrusts. Jay’s back arched, bent like a bow. Maggie ran her hands on his hard belly and Jay’s thrusting reached a crescendo, Maggie’s tight little hole working its hot magic on Jay’s big, aching cock. Then he was thrusting and holding, and Maggie's head twisted from side to side.
He knew Jay was coming inside her, knew this impassioned flailing from her was because she was feeling her man's sexual product spewing deep inside her, hot and wet and oh-so-dirty. His big cock was spewing its guts into her and she craved it, satisfied by its splashing in the part that made her a woman.
Her legs ceased their pulling on his hips, she just lay there and took it, took her lover's deep, animal driving, took his roaring and grinding. Jay withdrew far, thrust deep and held it. Maggie cried out. He did it again, withdrew so far that his cock came close to falling out, then he plunged himself into her with every inch he had. She cried out again. Her face pained, but satiated. His head hung over her and he kissed her lips. Her hands ran circles over his shoulders, and she kissed back, but her face didn't come awake yet. Part of her was maybe still orgasming, or riding the wave of ecstasy a young woman enjoyed after exciting, forbidden sex with a capable and exciting partner.
Soon her eyes fluttered and her kissing began renewed. Loving and caring, she took his lips, let her take his. Their energy was restrained, bathing in warmth, not hot and fiery and full of need, but longing and...almost love. The notion stabbed him again. His own brow furrowed. He chewed his own lip. That was awful. It was an awful thought. But somehow this awareness that he could lose her, that she could grow from him, made him love her more, made his passion for her grow tenfold. In juxtaposition with another man, her value to him soared. He needed her more than anything.
Then Maggie broke from the kiss, slipped under Jay's body. Worked herself down underneath him while he still held himself over her. Her face traveled his chest, down lower, down between his legs. He couldn't see what she was doing, her face hidden behind the open edges of Jay’s jacket. “Oh Maggie, oh no,” he sighed, realizing she must have his cock in her mouth. Must be down there cleaning up her lover.
5
Royal Morris
Thursday, October 5th
As he followed her his hands formed fists, let them go, formed fists again. His heart pumped blood through him like jet fuel. There was so much he wanted to do to her. Not hurt her. Never hurt her. Be rough, yes. Passionate, yes. Transfer the hurt she applied to him? No. Not transfer. Translate. That was better. Make her understand.
She walked alone, only a dozen paces ahead of him. Her regularly demure walk had been transformed to some sultry sway he’d never seen from her. Her lover really set her on fire. Jay made her a woman. Walking like she was on cloud nine. Supposed to be headed home t
o select her wedding dress, supposed to be traveling back to be at home with her family. Instead, this little whore made a detour. Thought he wouldn’t figure her out. Bus is in Brattleboro. Jay is in Brattleboro. Followed her. Witnessed that horror. He adjusted his erection. It hid under the jacket, but it stuck upright and aggressive right now.
After Jay and Maggie had fucked...more accurately, made love...they had lingered with each other. Stroking and caressing, speaking unheard words, the nature of them evident by the sweetness in their faces; the smiles...
Both of them were fully clothed, Maggie with her skirt hiked up, pantyless, Jay with his horse cock stuck out of his fly. When it had softened he’d sat next to her on the rock, and she’d watched his hands tuck it away and zip it back up, her hand draped on his thigh. They sat on the rock in the fall sun and talked a bit longer, then Maggie checked her phone, read the time, kissed his lips and they walked out of the woods together.
They parted ways at the café, Jay going left, Maggie continuing on to the right, retracing the route that had brought her here. He knew where she headed so he followed from a safe distance. Followed and watched. And admired.
Her bare legs strutting under her skirt. God, knowing she was completely bare under there. Then, the intoxicating thought that she dribbled another man’s semen from that tight, pink slit he loved so much. His cock throbbed harder.
Soon they crossed Drillfield, out past the tall building where the exhibition had been held, the mats cleared away and no evidence left that anything had transpired here an hour ago. Crossing Drillfield they came to a wide walkway, then a busy narrow one that wound them to the edge of the campus.
The crowd thinned at the parking lot, everyone splitting up to head to their individual vehicles, some going in larger clumps headed for the public transport on the main thoroughfare beyond the university parking. Now it was just him and her. Two figures alone, passing an aisle of parked cars, sunlight gleaming off windshields. If she turned she would see him, there was nowhere to hide. He closed the gap.
She stopped at Cole’s lifted Jeep. Paused there, standing and waiting, her legs together, looking out towards the main road, biting her lip. He slipped behind her, opened the passenger door to Cole’s Jeep with a shaky hand, struggling to slip the key into the lock. Got it, opened it, held the door for her. When her feet were in, he closed the door for her. He couldn't look her in the eye.
He made quick steps to the driver's side, she’d reached across and opened it for him. He climbed in and started the Jeep, his foot pushed on the clutch. His gaze wandered to her side, saw her bare legs held together. His heart raced. He put the Jeep in reverse, backed out, breath trembling, arms still shaky, working through the gears to get them out of the parking. Maggie scratched her neck, looked out the window. The radio hadn't been fixed, and it was quiet in the cabin. He could smell her. Smell her perfume. God, he could smell her sweat. Smell that lovely Maggie smell she produced when she engaged in heated activity; warm and musky, distinct, not like any other woman he had smelled. Sweat had accumulated on his upper lip and he wiped it.
They made their way out of the parking lot, jabbing his credit card in the payment machine, anxious for the arm to lift. Now she touched the hem of her skirt, driving him crazy. She had his attention. Her polished fingernails dragged on her own soft skin, pulling the hem up, lightly fanning herself by wafting the material of her skirt. Like she was hot under there, or she wanted him to smell her.
His eyes snapped back to the road. Traffic was mild, and they made their way from the main lot, through the one-way, narrow, University Lane, past more hundred-year-old red brick buildings with slate spires. It was only a three-minute drive, but it was the longest three minutes of his life. Each heartbeat an aching eternity.
The Megabus pickup was a steel and glass enclosure out front of the Royal Morris Theater, a university-owned building run by the Arts department. He and Maggie had been here once, maybe two years ago, to attend an adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. As they neared, her quiet tense voice broke the silence.
“Did you see?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
“See it all?”
God, her words drove him mad. He could feel precum leaking from him, soaking a circle in his pants.
She said, “Max, he came inside me.” The hem of her skirt rose and his gaze turned down, desperate to see what she wanted to show him. High up, almost at her pussy, he could see a dull, hazy patch spread on the insides of her thighs. Jay’s semen had leaked from her, spread thin on that sweet skin of hers and turned to a glaze.
“You cheated on me,” he said, wanting to drop everything and take her right now but knew he couldn’t, knew they should save this talk for when they were safe. His eyes darted back to the road. Cole’s Jeep had wandered, and he yanked it back between the lines.
“Tell me I’m bad,” she sighed.
“I watched my whore girlfriend have sex with another man. I watched her sneak around. I watched her break my heart.”
Without her seatbelt fastened, she shuffled herself to the edge of her seat. Now she watched him, and if he turned, if his eyes met hers, he knew he would lose it. So he kept his eyes on the road. Her hand rested on his chest.
“I love you, Max,” she whispered.
“Don’t...” he warned her.
The hand on his chest slipped lower, down his stomach, came to rest between his legs. That was better.
She said, “I can’t help myself, Max. You know how bad I am...”
A smile peeled his cheeks back, and a tremor passed through him with such force his eyes fluttered. He shivered. She gave his balls a careful squeeze. More precum surged from him.
The Jeep bounced the edge of the curb as he careened into the entrance of the theater. They were in a circular drive at the footstep of the red brick theater looming over them. He went around in the drive and wound back up at the one-way University Lane.
“How do I? ... How...”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said, her voice tilting up with a frustrated whine. “I don’t remember...”
Her head snapped left and right, trying to understand where they were—where they could park. The hand she had comforting his throbbing genitals left, a cold dampness seeping through his seams in its absence.
He signaled the Jeep left, continued along the road, took the next left, and it curled around the building adjacent to the old theater. Glancing left he saw the black slate roof of the theater disappear behind another building.
“Shit,” he whispered.
“Up ahead,” Maggie said, wagging a finger at another driveway that slipped down a hill on the left side.
Traffic came toward them and they had to wait for the cars to pass. They sat uncomfortably, Max ready to explode. Car after car slowly passed. The keys for Cole’s Jeep jiggled against the steering column, the indicator gave it steady, maddening ticka-ticka-ticka.
“Holy shit, I can’t take this,” Maggie whined, both her hands stroking up and down her bare thighs. She dug her heels into the carpet and shoved her back into the seat. Traffic bunched up, crawling at a snail’s pace, but finally, someone flashed their high beams indicating for him to cut across. They both waved, though their faces were frozen in blank, unsmiling anxiousness. The big tires chirped as he let the clutch out late and the Jeep shot across the lane, into the turn, down the slope and in behind the buildings.
It delivered them to a cramped, tree-sheltered parking lot behind the theater. On the right, above them, near the edge of a retaining wall, a tractor with a claw worked away at excavating, men in yellow hard hats watched from the side; one man’s eyes following along, no doubt attracted to the hot Asian girl in the Jeep with the short skirt. On the left was the staff and administration entrance to the theater. The Royal Morris was a hundred-years-old or more, in chalky, red brick, blank and windowless (reminding him of a Masonic Lodge or something), a sharply peaked roof, concrete steps that climbed to a single black door.
/> There was only one empty spot, and he reeled at the thought of the calamity had there been no available parking. What would they have done?
Maggie rifled through her purse already, pulling out her key chain. They both jumped out and slammed the doors behind them, headed quickly across the lot and to that single door.
“Shit, Max, hurry, hurry,” Maggie said, her legs scissoring in short, rapid strokes, her head turned down to the screen of her phone. “Oh Max, we’ve only got ten minutes.”
His mouth struggled to say something, but his jaw had frozen. His eyes were locked on target. That single door up those concrete steps. Ahead of her, he grabbed the yellow hand railing and launched himself up three steps at a time. At the top, he spun and waited, Maggie quick-stepping all the way to him, her hand fumbling for the right key.
Maggie's roommate Jess had a partner in some theatrical/performance piece they were working on for credit, though it was being hosted off-campus at a private gallery in Burlington. The partner attended VSU, gave Jess a key to the Royal Morris, Jess had asked Maggie to ask Max to pick up a prop when he dropped her off to the bus. They borrowed Cole’s Jeep.
One twist of the key in Maggie’s hand and the black door opened, then they were speeding down a narrow brick-walled hall. Maggie was ahead of him, and she darted through an archway to the left, down a flight of stairs and then they were crossing behind the stage of the theater. It was vacant and quiet. The set was dressed for a play, and they walked past a full-scale reproduction of a suburban backyard; some split-level home in beige vinyl siding. He ran over patio stones and Astroturf, almost knocked over a Weber grill.
