by KT Morrison
Her expression was troubled. At once she was into it and also seemingly here against her own better judgment. But she did the things she feared anyway. Maybe hating herself for it. She stumbled out of his view, heading towards him and away to his left. Now there was only Cole.
His best friend Cole, sitting there in a dark suit looking more menacing than Max could have imagined. Putting on a show for their Maggie. Giving her what she wanted. Doing it, as they agreed, to give Max what he wanted too. Convinced him he wanted this—now, facing it, he wasn’t so sure.Their mating came with beauty—Maggie was magnificent—but there was too much subterfuge. Too much concealment. How would Maggie react if his presence was revealed?
Cole leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, hands coming together between his knees, interdigitated. His gaze settled on Max, focused on the space between the open doors, though Max was sure he couldn’t be seen. He was being philosophically seen. Their eyes stared at one another, and he noted a sadness on Cole’s face. His mouth set in grim resolution but there was a gleaming, watery melancholy there too. They stared at one another a long time and Max thought to say something but the fear of Maggie catching him in the armoire was intense. So his mouth worked dryly, making no audible sound other than a wizened clicking.
Maggie reappeared. Cole’s eyes moved up to meet her as she returned. She was stunning in only high heels. Her legs long and thin and he’d never seen her look so adult, so womanly. Her ass cheeks flexed, gave off the tiniest jiggle with her steps. She came before Cole and she presented him with a dampened terry cloth belt in brilliant white.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “On your knees.”
Maggie squat low, put one knee on the carpet then the next, hands still extending her gift. Cole read her face, his hands working in circles, the tie wrapping around the knuckles of one, reversing, winding back around the other. He took the belt from her, said, “Turn for me, on your knees, go around and face the armoire.”
She scuttled around, working in a half circle on the points of her knees, her heels slipping on and off, showing glimpses of her reddened soles.
Max’s heart began to hammer as he sensed a betrayal. This was where Cole would reveal the pervert in the closet. The disgusting toad who tricked her into trothplight. This, Maggie? This lowlife is the man you’re going to wed? Are you sure? I’ve shown you better. His lips trembled again.
Maggie stared at the armoire, eyes unfocused, but pointing directly at the gap in the open door. He felt a strong urge to urinate.
7
Statue
Saturday, October 7th
His sweet little Maggie wanted to cheat. Cole showed Max her words, spoken into his camera. Cole feeding her lines to keep her legally immune, his poor girl, bundled in a bed sheet, repeating the words with bashful charm. It killed him. Seeing her as Cole would have seen her, naked in his room together, alone, up to dirty things, having fun and being cute with one another.
Cole convinced him that a one-night-stand with Maggie wouldn't be cheating. Not really. He’d practically gone to his knees pleading his case and, boy, had he ever painted a desirous picture. One Max couldn't refuse. It wouldn't be cheating, Max. I love you. She loves you. If I can convince her to sleep with me, I swear it’s meaningless. She loves you so much. You saw what she said in the video. We all love each other. Let’s give her what she wants. Let's do it for her.
He’d said, And I can watch?
Cole had said, Yes, you can.
Now here he was hiding in the armoire, having loitered in this room for hours while Cole went off and courted Maggie, texting him to keep him in the loop, sending a message when they were done eating, saying We may come up, Max. Then he’d jumped from the couch and situated himself in the hiding spot he’d made comfortable. He had pillows for his knees, had angled the armoire just so, making sure he had maximum coverage of the bed.
The greatest fear had always been that they would do these things without him, they would have something secret between them and they would giggle behind his back. Cole convinced him this was with mutual love. A troika of love. They would do it behind his back but he would be included. It was the stuff of dreams. Nightmarish as it might be, this was his most perverse desire, and there was no way to refuse.
Now, with Cole getting down on his knees behind her, the two of them kneeling, Cole angling Maggie's face to look into the armoire he realized his mistake. And he thought he was so smart. Tricked by a jock who was his best friend. Cole was no dummy, obviously, but he wasn’t on Max’s level.
Max’s heart turned to brittle charcoal at the realization of how he’d left himself open. Of course Cole wanted Maggie. Who wouldn't want the most beautiful, sweetest girl on earth? A bubbly, brilliant, and talented woman who was a tiger in the sack. How could he have let himself be exposed like this? So dim, Max.
Maggie would now see him, see his betrayals, his lusts, his lies. He’d hidden in the closet and watched her masturbate. Hidden in the closet and spied her with her figure model. He’d used that illicitly gleaned Intel to manipulate her into having sex with another man solely so he could watch. How sure was he that this was for her benefit as well? Maybe it was all for him. Maybe he was the most selfish man on earth and she better deserved a man like Cole. And his greatest sin? This one right here, right now. Allowing her to be broken. Allowing her vow to him to be broken. And he encouraged it. Cole convinced him it was a small thing, something for her, but seeing her face, held in Cole’s hand, pointed at him, he realized what he’d done. He’d helped her break their relationship. He’d done this. He'd put her on this path, pulled the lever, switched the tracks, and the steam engine of their love veered off on to a line he’d laid, fraught with badness. Cole would show her. Cole would reveal the truth about the man she thought she loved.
Cole’s hand moved behind her, her shoulders came high. Her hands were being tied behind her back this time. Cole turned, retrieved the dampened belt, and now he looped it around her fine ankles, cinched an elaborate knot around them, he imagined the wet made the knot impossibly tight.
Then he was kneeling behind her again, his hands beginning to caress her tummy, her neck. His kisses traveled her neck and her collar and she moaned and tilted her head for him. Her nipples rose to hard stones, clenching tightly right before his eyes. One hand smoothed the crease of her hip, dipped between her legs and began to work through her pussy.
His heart pounded in his chest. The moment for the grand revelation was passing. This was building again, but building to something else. His breath came from him in uneasy trembling as he watched.
Cole brought a knee up, one arm bracing her under her pert breasts, the other scooping under her knees. He lifted her. Stood upright, bringing her with him, her back to his chest. She gasped, a tinge of distress whining through it. He kissed and bit at her shoulder as he walked with her to the side of the bed, put her heels on the mattress.
Max gasped and chugged, panting soft agonizing sounds. He was wrong. His friend wasn't going to show him for who he was. He clutched a hand over his own heart, gripped the material of his shirt.
Maggie was helpless in his hold. Her hands tied behind her, sandwiched between their bodies, her ankles bound tightly, her high heels on so she couldn't probably even stand if he was to let her down. She was light and lithe, a play toy to him with his strength. Maggie was in ecstasy. He could see it. See in her face that she was lost but wherever it was, she found herself in her mind’s theater she loved it. Her head lolled, her eyes were closed, her mouth wet and pouting, hung open.
Max saw below the curve of her ass that Cole had his cock in his hand, stroking it, moving it between her thighs. He stroked it up and down her pussy then, and Maggie moaned like a cat. When he found her aperture, his fingers guided him in, came away, his hips pushing his thick cock inside her. She gasped and cried. Now he stepped back from the bed and her body weight sunk him deep inside her body.
All the worry, all the disastrous thoughts
he'd had in the previous moment were washed away as he witnessed the woman he loved being dominated in the way she wanted with the guy they both loved. Sure she was cheating, but they all cared for one another.
Cole hooked a forearm under her knees, held her by her chest, and he fucked her while he stood. Maggie could do nothing. She struggled and squirmed but she was powerless. Powerless, and she loved it. Beginning to wail and cry and gasp with excitement, her face shut off, her mouth wide and exultant.
Cole fucked her hard like this. Max couldn't imagine it being done. Awestruck at seeing it happen. Cole held her to him and he fucked her wildly, powerfully. Her bound feet bobbed and wagged, her ponytail danced down one arm. She thrashed her head, made all sorts of yelping and encouragement. Max grew to steel, and he allowed himself to stroke it through his sweatpants. There would be no reclamation sex tonight. She couldn't know he was here.
It went on forever. Cole falling back and bracing himself against the wall, they turned and her heels knocked the lampshade off the lamp next to the bed. Her heel tips scraped the bedside table. Max didn't know how long Maggie could take it. The sex was extreme. Her vocalizations were pronounced. The slick sounds of Cole’s club reaming in and out came quicker and quicker. He turned her and put her heels on the wall. She missed, the shoes clattering on the wooden window frame, then clacking loudly against the glass of the window that looked out over the ocean.
With her braced, he held both her hips now and his thrusts machined in and out in triple-time. She wailed. Her heels scraped and squeaked against the glass.
“Come on, Maggie,” he grunted, “come on, come for me, come for me...”
She began to chant Oh, oh, oh, and each time she got higher and louder. Her face pinched like she'd been punched in the stomach, and she hunched forward, then her head launched back almost striking Cole on the chin when she came. She cried out so loud management would be here knocking on the door in a minute. It went on and on and Cole clamped his hand over her mouth. Air blurted around his fingers. She twisted and shook, pressed her hips forward, her knees coming apart as wide as her binding would allow. Cole's cock slipped almost free and Max saw it shining from her wetness, saw the girth that his girl had taken.
A sprinkle arced up from between her legs, spritzed high up the glass, pattering against it lightly. Cole slapped his other hand between her legs, started shaking and jacking her clitoris, and the stream continued in spurts that danced between her legs.
“That’s it, that’s it, Margaret, that’s my good girl...look at you go...”
Max took on the immobility and weight of an ancient bronze statue. Breath had stopped, his heartbeat a pale flutter as he was deadened by what he was witnessing. Cole had rendered her useless by fucking her. She whimpered and moaned and her body went heavy and lifeless. Cole turned and lowered her onto her belly on the bed. She writhed bootlessly, her feet still dangling off the edge of the mattress. She’d been fucked into oblivion by his best friend. The hot and damp confine of the armoire seemed suddenly cold and coffin-like. He was sure he liked what he saw but there was a profound sense of place that fell over him. Like he stood on the precipice of Nietzsche’s abyss.
Cole’s hands went up and down her legs, over her back. He seemed concerned but not overly so. He removed her shoes, bent her knees. When he kissed the soles of her feet Max could see her toes wiggle and flex. Cole smiled as he removed his jacket, tossed it onto the couch at the foot of the bed.
He got up on his knees on the bed next to her, his big hand smoothing the pale, glossy skin of her back. He was looking at her face but from this angle her head was turned from Max so he couldn’t see her expression.
The knotted tie was undone. Cole sitting peacefully next to her and undoing her bondage. He pulled her feet up again, bent her knees and worked the tight knot out of the terry belt. When it was off, he tossed it away on the floor. As he kissed the soles of her feet again, cupping them in both his hands, she began to stir, her shoulder blades working as she came up on her elbows. Getting over top of her he kissed up the backs of her knees, slowly up the backs of her thighs. She began to flinch and twist as he came to her ticklish spot below her cheeks. Cole kissed past them, working around her sensitive zone, then coming up the middle, kissing and biting at the crack of her flawless ass. His hands swooped up, his thumbs peeled her open, and he worked his tongue over her anus. Now she was moving.
Her chin pointed to the canopy over the bed, her head rocked on her shoulders. She rolled over for him, spread her legs. Their eyes met briefly, and she looked at Cole with lachrymose longing. He kissed the inside of her thigh and she closed her eyes. Knees winding in and out as he suckled on the folds of her pussy, Maggie’s head rocked on the mattress. Cole unbuttoned his shirt while he did, worked his belt out and undid the pants.
Kissing his way back down her thigh, down to her knee, he slipped off the bed again and stood by its side. He watched her, and she watched him. She pulled a pillow to her, tucked it under her head, a hand covered her bare sex, tendons working as she began to stroke at herself. Cole undid the cufflinks, put them on the side table, took his shirt off, showed Maggie his tan and his muscle. Dropped his pants. He hadn’t worn underwear, and his cock was engorged, thick and bobbing, his noticeably large balls swinging with movement as he tugged his socks off.
Maggie chewed her lip and watched him through lowered eyes. He joined her on the bed and she opened her legs for him. They came together, him on top, her arms circling his back, her knees lifting to accommodate him as he eased his cock up inside her again. They made love. It was passionate and drawn out. They kissed. He held her hands out above her head. He fucked her gently and carefully and kissed her neck, her nipples, watched her expression as he did it all. Maggie was quiet and subdued now, making only breathy gasps and encouraging affirmations.
When Cole was ready to come, he told her. Her feet crossed over his rump and she nodded, looked in his eyes. He thrust in and out, steady and strong, getting quicker and quicker, their breaths coming faster. Maggie began to chant Yes, yes, again, her brow furrowed, eyes boring into his, a vein rising up on her pristine forehead. Then Cole roared, stabbed her deeply, withdrew, plunged again. Max could see his scrotum wrinkle, balls raising and releasing as he came inside her. Maggie clutched him to her, one hand turning to a claw and raking through his long blonde hair. Max could see her expression over Cole’s muscular shoulder, saw her eyes clenched, glistening runnels of tears on both cheeks, her trembling lips curled back from her teeth, down-turned in a grimace. She was crying.
Cole whispered, “Hey, hey,” worried, smoothing his hand over her forehead. She covered her face. “Maggie, don’t,” he said gently.
She was shaking with sobs now. Cole held her tightly, and he watched expectantly at the hands covering her face, waiting to see her.
“Maggie? ...” he urged. “Please...”
She shook her head back and forth, stopped crying, began again. He withdrew his cock, and as it was free she raised her knees, turned her hips and lay on her side, still crying into her hands. Her sounds were restrained, dry and coughing. Cole lay on his side behind her, hand running up and down her upper arm. “Please don’t cry,” he said.
8
Game Show
Saturday, October 7th
He knew why she was crying and knew he was responsible. As generous as his gift of uninhibited sex with Cole might be billed, he’d done this for himself. She’d cheated, but it was he who had done it—it was him who had ruined the sanctity of their relationship. He watched from the crack in the door as the woman he loved desperately sobbed in emotional pain and he covered his mouth with a hand. Wanting to console her he had to restrain himself. His fingers pinched on the brass buckle that served as the backside of the knob that opened the armoire door. It would be so easy to push the door open and run to her, take her up in his arms and cry with her. Cry and tell her it would be all right.
But it was nowhere as easy as that. That was
his version of events. The one where Max Milton was the hero of the story. That wasn’t reality. That was three-act Hollywood, and he was some under-educated fledgling screenwriter.
The truth? He would be stepping out like an evil game show host to reveal this was a prank. A Youtube stunt gone wrong. Maggie, you just got Punk’d. He saw himself through her eyes, emerging from the armoire, a witness to the most profoundly terrible thing that wonderful girl had ever done and he saw himself with hatred. With anger. Maggie would feel victimized. Made fun of. What they’d done was wrong.
Cole’s face loomed over her shoulder, fraught with concern, he said, “Maggie...Maggie, please don’t cry, please don’t...”
Through her hands, she said, “How could I do that?”
“It’s okay...I swear it’s okay...”
Slowly she withdrew her hands, wiped her cheeks dry, lay with her head flat on the bed, staring towards the armoire. She sniffed and blinked.
“Maggie...” Cole put his hand on her upper arm. She lay a hand over his.
She said, “I just wanted this to be fun. I never wanted it to hurt.”
“It hurts?”
“It hurts so much. My heart... My heart, Cole. My heart is hurting so bad right now. I cheated on him. With you...”
“Maggie, it’s things we’ve already done. You still love him...”
“Stop, Cole...Why did I do that? How could I do that?”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not. It’s really not.”
Cole ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild and staring. “Are you...are you mad at me?”
She shook her head no. “I hate myself.”
“Why, Maggie? Don’t do that.”
