1 comments/  29645 views/  2 favorites

Maggie May Ch. 01

By: EitherNotOr



"I'm gonna cum soon!" Brian groaned, quickening the pace.

"Thank God," thought Mackenzie. She torqued her neck a bit to peer up at his face; "What is that expression?" she thought. "Does he think that's erotic? Wincing? 'Ah, yes, baby, I love staring into those sexy, moonbeam eyes -- those sexy, squinting, pained eyes on that contorted grimace you call a face.'" Mackenzie chuckled internally at her own joke, and relaxed. She let her muscles loosen, did not worry one whit about her self-consciousness regarding her body (which, though beautiful, she had a tendency to do), and generally took an attitude of amused disinterest in what was going on. "I guess this is happiness," she thought. She was comfortable; not just that she was laying prostrate on the bed as if in a coffin, but comfortable, in general. Her job was generally little more than a distraction or time-consuming hobby; college was thus far uneventful, and the one campus function she attended regularly, Campus Crusade for Christ, was more a psychic drain than a fulfilling cause. Nevertheless, she was with a decent guy, and Mackenzie had for the first time in her life reached a kind of emotional homeostasis; for that, she was sort-of grateful. She guessed. Whatever.

"Oh, God, Mack! Oh, yeah!"

Oh yeah! Sex. "God, does he have to call me Mack?" wondered Mackenzie. "It sounds so masculine. Why can't he call me Maggie like everyone else? I certainly hate 'Madge,' that's for sure.." Mackenzie's mind wandered to and fro, anything to keep her mind off of what she had come to think of as this mildly enjoyable chore -- she loved Brian and all, and he was a real sweetheart, but he was just too... too... something. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she supposed that, had Brian been carved out of wood, it would be some flimsy, plastic kind of wood, like balsa wood. She wanted an oak man. With plenty of knots in the grain. Ah, hell, she didn't know what she wanted, but she did know that she was ready to be done. "Better start contributing," Mackenzie thought.

Maggie started bucking her hips, trying to get some vertical friction on each of Brian's thrusts. Brian grunted a bit and looked down at her, smiling a bit, the thick vein in his forehead becoming more prominent. Maggie smirked at him and cooed, hardly audible, "C'mon Brian, give it to me. Fuck me." Brian began to tense, every muscle in his body exhausted from the brief session of missionary fucking, and he felt his balls begin to shrink and tighten.

"I'm ready, baby! I'm gonna cum!"

"That's it!" Maggie felt Brian unintentionally brush up against her clit a few times, and felt a preorgasmic shiver run down her spine. Maggie bucked her hips a bit harder. She was suddenly frustrated that she hadn't thought of doing this earlier, but it was too late now. She bucked her hips and felt her clit grinding up hard against Brian's lower stomach, and closed her eyes. As she did so, an image flashed in her mind, stark and sudden. She imagined Brian's face instantly changing, from pained and goofy to stern, serious -- even angry. Yes, very angry. His eyes grew wide and clarity returned; he set his jaw hard and square; he gritted his teeth. His entire expression darkened and contorted; he looked almost possessed, demonic. It was terrifying. And, even more bizarre, Maggie felt her clit suddenly swell with blood and tingle with heat, and she closed her eyes tighter and bucked her hips wildly against Brian, trying hard to keep that image in her mind. Oh, God, she was actually going to cum for once. "Jesus, Brian, Jesus! Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, please?!" thought Maggie, enthralled with the thought of this face; this angry, violent face. She imagined a sick, sadistic smile creeping over his lips, she imagined one of his hands (in her mind, thicker, rougher, and wider than it actually was) slowly closing down over her throat, pinning her down into the pillow beneath her head...

"Fuuuuck yeeeeeessss!" Maggie screamed, a feral roar from some internal depths that she didn't even know existed, and her mind went blank and white. She tensed every single muscle in her cunt and made two tight little fists just above her neck, grasping at some phantom arm. The orgasm rifled through her body, and the intensity of the sensation wiped her clean; a blank slate. Her only remaining sensation was sound, which went first tinny, then silent. She lay, clutching at the demon in her mind, every muscle motionless, her skin twitching uncontrollably, goosebumps spreading across her shoulders, arms, and back...

After a couple of minutes, she could feel herself returning to consciousness, her mind prefacing its return to the body like the telltale hum of a phosphorescent light before it finally flickers back on. She finally tried to relax her eyelids, and open her eyes.

Brian was agape.

...

Seeing the look of confusion and shock on Brian's face, Maggie snapped back to reality. Realizing her skinny fingers were clenched into tight little balls above her neck, she immediately loosened her grip and threw her arms around Brian's waist, trying to pull him close to her for the usual post-coital hug. Brian stayed propped above her, rigidly refusing to be pulled close to her. His eyes never left hers. "Shit," Maggie thought, "Maybe I shouldn't have done that." Maggie looked up at Brian and slackened her grip around his waist. Uncomfortable silence. "Well, I'd better say something," Maggie thought, and was just about to open her mouth to explain --

"What were you thinking about?" Brian interrupted.

"What?" Maggie played dumb.

"Just now, when you came, what was that? Why were you holding the air?" Brian pressed.

"Uh, I just tensed up when I came, that was all."

Brian shot her a look. "What were you thinking about, Mackenzie?"

Oh no. Not her full name. This couldn't be good. "I was just fantasizing a bit, that's all, Brian."

"Fantasizing about what?" Jealousy boiled in his voice.

"About you, baby. Don't be jealous, okay?" Maggie used her most patronizing voice, trying to placate Brian, who was prone to these little fits of jealousy. In moderation, Maggie found jealousy cute, and almost a turn-on. She liked the feeling of being lusted after, and even possessed -- not that she would ever admit that to herself. But she did admit that she liked a little jealousy; she just didn't know why. In any event, Brian's jealousy was not a little jealousy -- it was immature, it was stupid. Maggie had had more than her share of dealing with it.

"What, fantasizing about having sex with me, while we were having sex?" Brian prodded impatiently...

"Brian --" Maggie began, deflated.

"Well what was it, Mackenzie?"

"I fantasized about you getting really mad with me and choking me, okay!?" Maggie snapped. Oh, shit. Brian remained silent for a beat. Then --

"Choking you? You think I would choke you?" Brian huffed and pushed himself off of her. He stood up near the foot of the bed, awkwardly pulled the condom off and threw it into the nearby wastebasket, and began to pick his clothes up off the floor. "That's sick, Mackenzie."

Maggie felt her face flush with embarrassment. "He's right," she thought. "It is." 

"Brian, no, it's not that --" Maggie tried weakly to defend herself. God, this was so ridiculous. She almost felt like it was none of his fucking business, anyway.

"I don't know, Mackenzie. Is it something you want?" Brian paused momentarily, arms crooked through the sleeves of his faded t-shirt, neck slightly bent. He looked a little less offended, now, and a strange humility spread across his face. He was curious, and upset.

"I don't know, Brian. I'm not sure."

"Okay." Brian silently continued dressing.

"Maybe?" Maggie punctuated the silence.

"Like, what?" Brian was shuffling his socks back onto his feet. "You want me to choke you?"

"Not necessarily just that..."

"What, more?!"

"No! I mean, well maybe, but that's not what I meant." Maggie fumbled, embarrassed. Why was this such a big deal? She didn't normally have a problem communicating her desires to Brian, or anyone else, for that matter -- she was always forthright and up-front with her concerns; candid to the point of annoyance. But this was different, somehow. It was unnerving. "I meant that you wouldn't necessarily have to choke me."

Brian shot her a look. "Well, thank God!"

"Jesus, Brian, nevermind. Look, can we just stop fighting about this? We'll talk about it when you get back." Maggie tried her best to be diplomatic during arguments, and sometimes even downright motherly. It was a tremendous chore.

"You're right. I guess that's a good idea." Brian acquiesced to her reasons, as usual. He secretly resented Maggie, on occasion, for being always right. He wished he could be right from time to time. "What guy doesn't, though?" was his typical inner justification. In any event -- it was too much for him to think about right now -- he was leaving for France in about an hour, and had to get home. This was supposed to be a goodbye; he wouldn't see Maggie for another four months. NYU had an exchange student program with l'Ecole Polytechnique for software engineers. Some really exciting work in multi-agent systems and cooperative emergent behavior was being done, and that was Brian's specialty. He had spent most of his life on computers, and it showed -- he was attractive enough, but thin and gaunt, and quite pale. He subsisted mostly on Doritos and Mountain Dew, and was very physically weak. Maggie once joked that the next time she needed help moving her furniture, that she would call Brian for help -- to program a robot to move the furniture for her. Brian was not amused.

Maggie gave Brian a look -- an inviting, "come cuddle with me" look, and the mood instantly lightened. Brian chuckled a little and realized how ridiculous he was being. "So what if she likes a little 'S&M' or whatever? What's that mean, anyway? So we'll do a little of that from time to time. I'm a 90's guy." (He felt stupid saying that after 2000, but he couldn't think of another way to put it). "I'll cope."

Brian cuddled with his girlfriend for another half hour before leaving to go to the airport. Maggie put on some sweats and spooned dutifully, sighing and even expressing genuine sadness and insecurity before his departure. "Don't meet any hot French girls, okay? None that shave, anyway." She had implored. He promised that he wouldn't, and with a kiss on her nose, he was off.

As soon as Brian pulled out of the driveway, Maggie hurried to her bedroom, slammed and locked the door behind her, slid her sweatpants and panties down in one quick motion, hopped onto the foot of her bed, spread her legs wide, and slapped her clit as hard as she could, over and over, until she sobbed out an orgasm.

...

The next few weeks passed with elemental speed. A new semester was starting, and Maggie was eager to embrace her courseload. She tended to overcompensate for emotional trauma -- Brian's departure was no exception. Maggie bogged herself down with school and work, and became rather more active in her extracurricular activies than usual. She joined a Classics discussion group and volunteered for Habitat for Humanity, and found a renewed interest in the Campus Crusade. That was no surprise. Maggie had been developing quite an interest in religion lately, and to that end, had enrolled in an religions seminar -- the primary focus being on Near-Eastern religions, but also (as Maggie had noted in the syllabus) a curious aside into Renaissance paganism. It was an entirely compartmentalized unit, sandwiched in between units on Neoplatonism and Marxism. Maggie had been attending her classes for only a week, and had already decided that it was her favorite. It was in that class that she found herself on Wednesday morning.

"...ascribed, nevertheless, such things to Necessity. Nowhere in Christian iconography do we find 'Fortune' visited upon. It is therefore obvious that..." Dr. Lorentz paused. His keen brown eyes darted around the room. "That approximately one-third of you have reached that very state of mystical bliss!" A few sharp classmates chuckled. Maggie was trying hard to follow along. Dr. Lorentz tended to either speak very quickly or very slowly, and neither was easy to comprehend. 

Dr. Lorentz turned to square his shoulders to the classroom. He was tall and solidly-built; handsome, fair-skinned, with dark brown eyes and raven-black hair which he kept short and immaculately styled. He was also rather young for a full-tenure professor -- he couldn't be much beyond mid-30's. He was a commanding presence merely to look at, Maggie thought, without his tendency toward histrionic shouting. His voice, when Dr. Lorentz was headlong into an intense exposition, or when demanding even a modicum of class participation, flowed from merely commanding to positively vicious. It was gravelly and then smooth; kind and then dark, bizarre; patient and then marrow-dry of patience. Maggie pitied his wife, if he had one -- Dr. Lorentz seemed to have such a mercurial temperament. Maybe it was just the material that excited him, though. In any event, Maggie wasn't about to miss a lecture -- every time he would thunder at the class, Maggie's breath caught in her throat. She loved the feeling of hesitancy she felt when asked point-blank to answer a question. "What if I answer incorrectly? What if it's obvious I didn't do the reading?" Maggie would wonder. "What would he say to me?" He was exciting. He was sexy.

Dr. Lorentz, however, was not feeling very sexy. He was feeling angry.

"Wake, the fuck, up!" he boomed. He put his hands on his hips and stared down the class, as if challenging them to start something. "Who am I teaching?" Dr. Lorentz pressed, regaining composure. "Who am I teaching? Am I teaching you, Angela?" he strode quickly to the left-hand side of the lecture hall and stood directly in front of a petite blonde in the first row. Keeping his hands on his hips, he bent over, slightly, encroaching into her personal space. "Am I?"

"Yes, Dr. Lorentz." Angela kept her head down, facing her flip-up desk. She hoped that Dr. Lorentz hadn't noticed the cell-phone now nestled between her thighs that she had been fidgeting with all class.

"Well, that's a relief. I'm glad you're learning, because I wouldn't want to interrupt the selection of your fucking ringtones." Dr. Lorentz barked, gnashing his teeth. He rapidly set himself back upright and walked quickly up the left-handed aisle to the back row. "And what about you in the back? Are you learning? I don't even know your fucking name, what's your fucking name?" Dr. Lorentz gestured exaggeratedly to the student, the lone student, in the back-left row of the lecture hall.

"James."

"James -- are you learning, James?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well good, good." Dr. Lorentz shrugged weirdly, and walked two steps at a time back down the left aisle and back out onto the lecture-floor, where he leaned up, casually, against his desk. "Is anyone else learning?"

The class was silent. A beat. Another beat.

"This is so ridiculous," said Dr. Lorentz. "I love you guys, that's why I'm angry! Aren't we all adults? I feel like I'm fucking babysitting! Are you here to learn? This course doesn't fulfill any general requirements! Speak up! Please!" He scanned the room left to right, right to left, appraising and judging. While doing so, he found his eyes lingering on one of his students in particular, a brunette in the third row, right. She was wearing a herringbone-striped gray and black skirt that covered about two-thirds of her thigh with her legs crossed. Dark nylons and strappy, black, three-inch heeled shoes showed off her long legs and slender ankles. She had on a tight-fitting white sweater which hugged all of her curves, and her more-than-ample breasts seemed even larger by virtue of the optical illusion of white clothing. Her shoulder-length, choppy brown hair framed a round, girlish face with a button nose, and a pair of black-framed glasses hid her cloudy brown eyes.

"And what about you, Mackenzie. You rarely ever contribute." Dr. Lorentz took a few long, slow strides toward Maggie.

"Oh shit," Maggie thought. She flew into a mental panic as she instantly began trying to calculate the correct response. Her heart pounded in her chest. She flicked her eyes downward and then back up, trying to show her professor the respect he deserved. "I-I'm learning," Maggie blubbered, girly and stupid. She could feel her heartbeat in her face as Dr. Lorentz approached. She imagined that she must look like a Christmas light.

"Are you?" Dr. Lorentz pressed, drawing within a couple feet, his pace slowing. "What about today's material? Have you been paying attention?"

"Y-Yes. I always do." Maggie's mind was racing.

Dr. Lorentz was now standing directly to the side of Maggie, just behind her right shoulder. He leaned in toward her to examine her notebook, and started reading aloud. "Roman numeral one. Christian Iconography. Letter "A." Pre-Medieval Art. Lower-case "A." Liturgical, Mosaic, Architectural." Maggie's entire body was an oven. She couldn't think -- she could barely breathe. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. She loved it.

Dr. Lorentz read a bit more, silently, and was seemingly pleased. A curious look crept over his face as he stood back up. He put one heavy hand on Maggie's thin, bony shoulder and squeezed hard, almost painfully so, and then walked lightly and rapidly back to his desk, and turned around to lean on the desk and face the class with the secure and calm ease with which he typically comported himself.

"Sorry, guys. It's frustrating to be a teacher." He seemed genuinely apologetic. "It's hard for me to accept that not all of you care like I do, and some not at all. That's not a fault on your part, but merely -- well, 'respect difference' as one of my colleagues would put it. But, look, I'm going to make it up to you. We're going to do a section on Renaissance paganism, remember? I actually did my dissertation on it, and in particular on the religious rites and ceremonies that came from and reflected this new burgeoning scientific thought, or rather, the disavowal of Christian thought. As such -- we're having a costume party."

A murmur spread through the lecture hall.

"A regular pagan costume gala, to be precise. At my home."

More murmuring.

"And anyone who participates gets their final grade bumped up one letter grade, no questions asked."

The murmur was now a dull roar. Dr. Lorentz looked satisfied.

"But we're going to have to learn about this, people, okay? Now, strictly speaking, Venetian costumes and masks have surprisingly egalitarian and a-religious origins, but that's not to say that they didn't eventually take on a religious significance. In any event, they are immensely interesting, and for any of you who have seen 'Eyes Wide Shut,' you probably already know the kind of mask that I'm talking about. Well, that's what we're doing. I mean, no, that's not what we're doing, not exactly like the movie." The same few students chuckled. "But, yes. We'll hammer out the details later. Now, back to work!" Dr. Lorentz finished, almost boyish with his enthusiasm. Until, of course, two minutes later in the lecture, when he once again visited Neoplatonic Necessity in mosaic.

By the time the bell rang, Maggie's mind was still racing. Her heartbeat had slowed and the ringing in her ears had quieted a bit, but her eyes were transfixed on a few words of small, cursive print on the bottom corner of her notebook paper, that she had jotted just moments before Dr. Lorentz had peered over her shoulder to read from her notes.

The bottom line of the page, clear as crystal, read: "Fuck me, professor!"


Maggie May Ch. 01



Wake up Maggie I think I got something to say to you
Its late September and I really should be back at school
I know I keep you amused but I feel I'm being used
Oh Maggie I couldn't have tried any more
You lured me away from home just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and that's what really hurt



John walked into his office with his head down on this rather dreary Monday morning only to startled by a most eye-catching, alluring sight. Long, stocking-clad legs were draped over one of the cushiony chairs in front of his desk. He immediately raised his head, already knowing instinctively who these legs belonged to, Maggie Cox.

"Good Morning, Sunshine, I understand your weekend was not the best."

John stopped dead still at not only the unaccustomed sight of one of his department managers in a much shorter-than-usual black miniskirt, but also because he was dreading that the word had already gotten into the gossipy world of his department store that he and his girlfriend had finally broken off their sometimes stormy relationship. Well, in actuality, his girlfriend had broken it off, and worse yet, for another guy, that bodybuilder jerk off from the local-yokel small town police department.

John sighed mournfully, while simultaneously feeling a surprising stirring in his suit trousers, as he couldn't help but notice that the always impeccably attired Maggie was looking more daring today than perhaps he had ever seen her. She was adorned in a while silk blouse to augment the beautiful skirt, and her auburn hair that was sexily speckled with salt-and-pepper streaks on her temples had apparently been highlighted over the weekend. Yes, John noticed such details, especially on Maggie. 

Even though she was almost twenty years his senior, John had always had a wild crush on Maggie. Yet he deemed her unapproachable and off-limits for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was her age. Also, Maggie was married, he assumed happily so, to a very prominent physician in this small community. Quite frankly, John felt as if he was out of Maggie's league, chronologically, socially, and sexually. From the first time he saw Maggie at the store meeting that was held several months ago to announce his promotion from a position in the home office in Philadelphia to the store manager in this swanky upscale suburban store, John felt his pulse quicken immediately. Three simple letters came into John's mind every time he saw Maggie, from up close or from afar. "Wow!"

He tossed his briefcase towards his desk, which missed and clunked noisily to the floor, and he sighed deeply again. "Maggie, please, please, tell don't me that the word is out already about Kathy and me."

Maggie uncrossed her long, lean legs, very pleased that John watched her intently as she did so, and she made it a point to not even attempt to lower the skirt which had hiked to mid-thigh, exposing her stocking tops, as she rose and moved towards him. John flinched backwards as Maggie eased towards him, her five-foot-nine inch frame augmented further by her 4-inch black heels, and glided ever so gracefully into John's personal space, now inches from him, so close that John could feel Maggie's soft, spearminty breath on his cheek, and smelled the intoxicating scent of Maggie's perfume. 

Today's choice of perfume was AnaisAnais, John realized, because it was the same scent that Kathy fancied wearing recently. John's mind flashed back to that scene no more than a week ago as he visualized himself again buried between Kathy's legs, tasting that wonderful nectar of Kathy's cunt that was enhanced by this sweet cologne, that Kathy enjoyed liberally spreading on her inner thighs. John wondered in this instant if Maggie did the same.

Maggie did something she had never done before, though truthfully, both Maggie and John wished they had done to each other long before: invaded the other's personal space. She took her beautifully manicured, slender fingers and ruffled them through John's curly hair. The couple froze for a second, unknowingly immortalizing this moment as the one that would forever change not only their own relationship, but inalterably affect their very lives. Maggie smiled at John with a matronly look of sympathy as she gazed deeply at John with her sultry gray-blue eyes.

"Yes, John, the word is out, and you know why?" John shook his head slowly, conscious that Maggie's fingers were now softly stroking the nape of his neck. Goose bumps arose on his forearms, and another more prominent lump arose well below. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

Maggie continued, enjoying the impact she was most obviously having on her much younger boss. "Because that big dickhead cop was in here over the weekend bragging to some of the ladies in cosmetics about how he was nailing the store manager's girlfriend. Or, should I say, his now EX-girlfriend. I'm using his words, darlin', not mine."

John blushed, a strange combination of embarrassment, anger, and arousal that he had actually heard the sophisticated and classy Maggie use such a term, apt though it may be, to describe Kathy's latest bedmate.

"You're kiddin' me, right?", John asked sadly as he slumped down into his chair, unwittingly causing Maggie caress to cease. He didn't want that to happen, and was sorry he moved. "He actually had the, um, balls, to come in here and brag about it?"

Maggie hovered over him, her waist now eye-level and inches away from John's face. She did not move backwards. Instead, she next crouched in front of him, and lightly touched him teasingly on the lower thigh, just above the knee. John hoped that Maggie hadn't noticed the growing, twitching bulge in his pants, but she did. Oh, yes, she most certainly did.

Maggie softly cooed, "John, may I be very candid with you?" John nodded tentatively, and glanced over Maggie's shoulder and out of his office door, and hoped that no other arrivals were entering the outer office this early on Monday morning. Maggie and John were usually among the first in the store on a daily basis, and apparently, today was no exception. Thank goodness, John thought.

"I've been watching you swoon over that little tramp almost ever since you got here." Maggie paused for emphasis, and watched closely for John's reaction. Little did Maggie know that the reaction that John was now mainly focused upon was fighting, unsuccessfully, to keep his erection from bursting through his zipper. He was amused, though, at Maggie's use of the word 'tramp' to describe Kathy, and had to agree, in hindsight now, that it was pretty accurate. John had deduced for weeks now that Kathy's main intent was to bed the new boss, and having accomplished that, she moved on to her next conquest. The painful realization has not dawned on John until he had time to reflect on things during this past lonely weekend.

Maggie herself now glanced over her own shoulder. Once convinced that they were still alone, she moved even closer to John, her chest and torso now pressing into his legs, and her hands now more firmly caressing John's thighs. Maggie herself was now glad that her own arousal was not evident. Unbeknownst to John, her thigh-high stockings were attached to a crotchless garter belt, and her own juices oozed from between her legs. She was now in the role of gentle yet undeniable predator, seducing an unwitting prey, emotionally vulnerable, but, oh so, delicious.

"What you need, John, is a real woman, a mature woman, not one of those little girls that you seem to get caught up with." John gulped nervously. It was true, he was sometimes too much of a gentleman for his own good. For a 28-year-old professional and successful man who certainly did not lack from many an attractive woman's attention, John still was relatively naive. Up to now, his sex life was relatively uneventful, conventional, vanilla. That was about to be altered.

Maggie pressed even closer now, the tips of her fingers now tantalizingly close to the throbbing bulge in John's crotch. If she was concerned about any intruders interrupting this strange yet erotic scene, she did not at all let on. Her eyes never left his lap as she continued her synopsis.

"And, take that old girlfriend of yours, too. That ice queen, Stephanie. Remember when you started going out with her when you were working in Philly? Remember that she was my assistant here at the time? Do you know what she used to say about you?" John again shook his head, his anxiety fighting a tug-of-war with his very acute arousal. His hips rose instinctively from the chair, squirming in frustrated sexual tension.

Maggie smiled and licked her full lips lasciviously. She continued in a low-pitched ,sultry growl. "She used to whine that you were too big for her, that she couldn't take you all in, that you hurt her with your size. Can you believe that?" Johns eyes were transfixed on Maggie's now, and he saw a look in Maggie's eyes that he honestly didn't know that she could exude. Sheer unadulterated lust. "That would NOT be the case with a REAL woman, I assure you."

Maggie then stood up abruptly, as she heard the rustle of co-workers entering the outer office lobby a nanosecond before John did. With complete pose and decorum, she pulled the hem of her skirt down her thigh as she sang in a happy, lilting voice, "So, boss, is it OK if I make a 2 o'clock appointment with you to discuss sales and staffing? I'll check your calendar with Madeline." 

John moved his rolling leather chair tightly under his desk in the event that Madeline came into the office to offer her customary morning salutations. Madeline was a woman in her mid-sixties, and a protective mother hen to John, and she no doubt would want to come in and offer her own condolences over John's latest failed relationship. The last thing John needed was for Madeline to notice his raving hard-on literally bursting from his zipper.

On cue, Maggie twirled and leaned on the door frame of John's office entrance. "Morning, Madeline! Think you can spare me a half-hour of our boss' busy day later on this afternoon? Say, two-ish?" Madeline murmured her consent, and with that, Maggie winked and sashayed out the door, giving John a barely discernible last wiggle of her mini-skirt-clad tight ass. John's fleeting thought was that it was almost anatomically impossible for a 47-year-old to have a butt that firm. yet at the same time, the bulge in his pants made him very curious to discover more for himself. 

"Jesus H. Christ," John muttered to himself. "What just happened here?" He then mouthed the one word that Maggie always seemed to evoke from him. "Wow!"

Two o'clock could not have come fast enough as far as John was concerned. Fortunately, as always on a Monday after he had the weekend off, there was a lot of catching up to do, so the clock moved relatively quickly. Madeline was inquisitive, but respectful when it became obvious that John would rather not delve into details on his break-up with Kathy. John had to admit to himself that the escapade with Maggie this morning had indeed served to essentially divert his thoughts way from his 'tramp' ex-girlfriend to what may transpire with his suddenly overly flirtatious 'mature' shoe department manager. He decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns once he met with Maggie at two.

Maggie was her usual punctual self and arrived at his door armed with loose-leaf binders and sales reports. Her arrival was preceded by the scent of that amazing perfume, so John knew she was in close proximity even before he saw or heard her. The scent itself produced an involuntary Pavlovian-dog-like response within John's loins. He shook his head and again uttered that magic word just before Maggie entered. "Wow! What she does to me."

Maggie's hair was brushed back from her forehead and slightly tossled. She had been primping herself in her stock room, and that included using one of the heels from her own 4-inch pumps as a impromptu masturbation device just minutes before the meeting. Maggie wondered if John could sense the unmistakable aroma of her sex mixed with her perfume. She hoped so. She wanted to drive him fucking crazy. John had no idea, just yet, how much Maggie had lusted after this handsome young man herself since he came into her life several months ago. Within the next half-hour, her intentions would be made quite clear.

John had already seated himself at his circular conference table and patted the chair next to him, indicating Maggie to join him in the next chair, under the auspices of mutually reviewing the reports. Maggie was pleased at this gesture by John, as it was the first time he had ever been emboldened enough to be comfortable with being so near. As Maggie gracefully lowered herself into the seat, her long legs again exposed to mid-thigh, she made it a point to rub her calves against John's, who smiled knowingly. he got off and called out the door, "Madeline, I'm going to close the door for a little bit so we can concentrate undisturbed, hold my calls for a bit, please, thanks!" 

He turned to Maggie as the door shut behind him, and felt his cheeks rising with heat, blushing. "I want to thank you for getting my mind off of Kathy all day, that was very altruistic of you." Maggie smiled and curtsied mockingly, her bra visible through her blouse as she bowed. John's brow furrowed as it did when he was pondering something, a little idiosyncrasy that Maggie found cute and charming. "Now, I have a question for you." He paused while Maggie stared at him with those piercing, sparkling eyes. "Just what is it that I need in the perception of this real woman?"

Maggie rose from her chair and lifted her ass onto the table in front of John, sliding the paperwork and binders aside. She lifted one knee, the other leg dangling over the table's edge, and as she did so, her skirt hiked enough to give John a view of her upper thighs, so that he could see the lacy stocking tops, but no further. His breathing accelerated, and his face flushed even more. He was mesmerized at the view, and again that 'Pavlovian' rock hard response took over his other senses. Maggie had the unfettered attention of all three of the Committee members in this little meeting: From the Heart John, Between the Ears John, and Below the Waist John. Being the most prominent member, Below the Waist John was now canceling out any other votes from the other members.

Maggie adjusted her knee, pulling it closer to her chest, which resulted in her skirt hiking perhaps an inch higher, so that John could now see the outlines of her swollen pussy lips beneath the dark skirt. He certainly smelled her nectar as well, and for just a second, amused himself with the thought that men emit visible displays of arousal while women exude olfactory clues. "Viva la difference," he mused silently. 

Maggie exhaled softly and asked, "John, may I entertain you with a story?" John, of course, nodded his assent, his eyes barely lifting from Maggie's crotch.

"Before I begin my story, you must answer this next question either 'yes' or 'no'. No 'maybes' or other disclaimers. Ok?" Again, John meekly nodded, completely in her spell by now, any silly aspersions that, as so-called boss, he would be in control of this meeting now cast aside. It was Maggie's ball game and she threw out the first pitch, a heater.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

This at least caused John to alter his gaze from Maggie's genital area. The butterfiles in his stomach leaped into his throat, and he struggle valiantly to maintain any semblance of composure. He blushed even more deeply, his face now a crimson, and Maggie spread the leg that was not pulled to her knee even wider apart. His lips moved, but no sound came out except the faintest of whimpers.

He felt hypnotized, almost entranced, and yes, scared shitless.

Maggie looked at him scoldingly as she ran her own hands under her skirt and raised her ass from the table, and pulled her skirt up to almost her navel, so that John could now see her pussy clearly, shaved, bare, gleaming with juices wafting over her lean thighs. She took one of her hands and cupped his chin.

"Don't wait too long, you have three seconds. One.......Tw...."

"Yes, oh my God, yes, yes, is that a trick question!?!?"

Maggie leaned down and held his chin more tightly and lowered her lips onto his. He tasted her myriad of flavors immediately, the strawberry lip gloss, the fresh hint of mint on her breath, the cool texture of her long, wet tongue lapping on his own, her full lips sucking him deeply into the warmth of the back of her mouth. Maggie swirled her tongue around the young man's mouth for a few teasing seconds, and then tossed her head backwards, releasing his face from her grasp. John felt like his cock could lift the table on its own, a magical levitation trick spawned by the sheer overpowering sensation of the blatant eroticism of Maggie's actions. If this was what he'd been missing when Maggie referred to a 'real woman', he was fully submitting and surrendering to this amazingly beautiful predator unilaterally. 

"Very good, that was the correct answer. Now, it's story time." Maggie brought her other leg onto the table now, and grabbed her knees at the same time, fully exposing herself to John. She took two of her fingertips and pulled her labia apart, showing John the saturated slickness within her slit. A third finger slithered down and rubbed the hood of her clit, now poking through her folds. John leaned closer, but Maggie playfully shoved his forehead away. 

"Behave, at least for the time being. Good things cum to those who wait. Such as, my pussy. But all in good time. Now, listen."

So, good readers, who wants to hear Maggie's story?



Maggie May Ch. 01



...

Mackenzie didn't attend class at all the remainder of the week and the beginning of the next. She pored over the incident in class in her mind; how unlikely it was that he had read her secret little missive; how, even if he had seen it, how unlikely he was to mention it or to act on it. This last point Mackenzie frequently revisited, and questioned whether or not she thought it was a good thing. "Of course," she would rationalize, "I have a boyfriend. He's a professor. Nothing could ever really happen. It's just a fantasy, that's all. A silly crush." As things between Brian grew colder, though, (the pauses in their phone conversation seemed almost to follow the cadence of some elegiac, martial score) Maggie found herself more and more distracted by sexual thoughts of her professor.

God, he was sexy. He was so in-control. She had read on his faculty homepage that he went to Columbia University on scholarship, and completed his PhD at Yale. Maggie was typically unimpressed by such ornamentation, but in this case, it was different. She wanted to be shallow. She wanted to be in awe. She wanted to feel small and helpless with him. She wanted to be another document on his wall, or trinket on his bookshelf. God, she just wanted him to force her to her knees and fuck her face. Stretch her pouty lips apart and rape them with his cock. No regard. No request. Fuck, she would love that. God, Dr. Lorentz, fuck your slut, fuck your toy...

It was in this state that she found herself in her dorm room Tuesday morning, in a white cotton sports bra and matching panties, working her pocket vibrator furiously in and out of her cunt. She lay spread eagle underneath her covers, with her legs bent at the knee, holding her panties delicately aside with one hand. She worked her own cunt with feverish urgency... she would press and hold the tip of the vibrator against the upper vaginal wall, directly where here G-spot was, and bite down hard on her bottom lip as her tight little cunt would shudder and squeeze out another orgasm. She was on her third already this morning. She loved clitoral stimulation -- but she was capable of vaginal orgasms, and multiple ones at that. She considered it a gift, and a shame to waste. Her juices had begun to well in a small pool on the sheets beneath her, and she could picture her own white panties turning diaphanous and feel their stickiness as her cum soaked through them onto the bed. God, she felt like a whore. She swirled and pressed her thick, round ass down into the sheets, and felt her own cum soak further up her panties. When she felt the wetness of her cum-soaked panties graze her asshole, she lost all control and clamped down as hard as she could for her fourth orgasm. She let out a surprised yelp, as if the result was somehow unexpected. She was unable to remove her vibrator from her cunt for another thirty seconds, despite the tremendous post-orgasmic pain it was now causing. Her tiny little cunt was holding on for dear life and refused to let go. It wouldn't be the last time Maggie's body got the better of her.

...

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

???

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

?! What the fuck?

BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT!

"Christ! Stop!" Mackenzie slammed her hand down on the snooze button. She had decided to take a nap directly after masturbating -- hell, it was tiring. She had left her panties on. She had slept on her soaked sheets. It felt sexy at the time, but now it just felt gross.

"Jesus, why?!" thought Mackenzie as she groggily threw the covers aside. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and looked over at the stain. It was huge. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Hahaha, oh my God." Mackenzie murmured. "Oh well. I need to do laundry anyway." Mackenzie glanced at the time on her alarm clock. 4:30. Dr. Lorentz's office hours were at 6:00 today. He seemed to stay on campus late, for some reason. Mackenzie mulled over the possibilities in her mind.

"He probably wants to know where I've been," Mackenzie thought aloud. Living in a single-person dorm room afforded her the indulgence of some of her more bizarre habits, one of which was talking to herself. "I should go. Get dressed up, put on some make-up, and go. I could give him an excuse. What's the worst that could happen? Attendance is five percent of the grade." Maggie resolved herself. She unceremoniously disrobed and walked into her bathroom, and took a brief shower and cleaned herself up. She only came once.

Upon opening the adjoining door and stepping back into her dorm room, steam billowed in from the bathroom. Maggie paused a while to watch the mist rise to her ceiling and dissipate. "I have felt a bit up-in-the-clouds lately," she thought, and was suddenly struck by the lameness of her analogy. Chuckling a bit, she opened her large closet double-doors and began sifting through her clothes.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." The metallic shrieking of sliding clothes hangers on the rack would have been enough to send any canine in a hundred-foot radius into a grand mall seizure. After what must have seemed like an eternity to the outside world, Maggie finally picked an outfit. A heather-gray merino wool v-neck sweater overtop of a too-tight (hence the sweater) collared white blouse, with a black, pinstripe, form-fitting skirt that covered down to just above her knee when standing, but flanked on either side by two tantalizing mid-thigh-length slits. Maggie put on her slinkiest, half-coverage lingerie bra and matching silk panties, and then two full-length semi-nude stalkings. She then put on her outfit and took a look at herself the full-length mirror on her door.

She posed, tried to look demure, then coy, then turned around to examine her full, round ass. "God, I hate this thing," Maggie thought. She then turned to face herself in the mirror again and admired her breasts, which strained against the thin merino fabric. "But I love these," she thought, and played with them gently in the mirror, again trying to look coy and sexy. After a bit of pinches and pulls on the material of her outfit, she was satisfied. "I look like Scarlett Johannson in Lost In Translation," Maggie thought, "though I guess a tad fuller in the right places. Well, whatever. I'm not as hot as she is." Maggie shrugged and returned to the bathroom, where she blow-dried her hair straight and did her makeup, choosing an almost unsightly pink for her lips. They looked shockingly pink. "I'll just tell him I'm on my way out to dinner with some friends, if he asks," Maggie mused absentmindedly. It was as if she had finally forgotten about the words scrawled on the bottom of her notebook.

Forgotten, or stopped caring.

[END PART 1 -- LOOK FOR PART 2 SOON]



Maggie May Ch. 02



This is a continuation of Ch. 01, the same title. Recommend you start your journey there first before reading this chapter. It's hot, I hope!! Enjoy!

*

"Very good, that was the correct answer. Now, it's story time." Maggie brought her other leg onto the table now, and grabbed her knees at the same time, fully exposing herself to John. She took two of her fingertips and pulled her labia apart, showing John the saturated slickness within her slit. A third finger slithered down and rubbed the hood of her clit, now poking through her folds. John leaned closer, but Maggie playfully shoved his forehead away. 

"Behave, at least for the time being. Good things cum to those who wait. Such as, my pussy. But all in good time. Now, listen."

John mustered all the concentration he possibly could to get his auditory senses to focus on Maggie's story as she continued to leisurely caress and stroke her own gleaming pussy inches from John's face.

"Well, first of all, my husband's been having an affair." John was not necessarily surprised by this revelation on one level, but at the same time, wondered if good ol' Dr. Cox must be blind. Maggie's full pouty lips curled in disdain. "Meredith, a twenty-eight-year-old 'receptionist'." Maggie nearly spat the word. "With huge tits, of course." Maggie lifted one of her hands to caress her hardening nipples on her taut tits through her silk blouse. 

"After about ten years of trying to convince me to get a boob job, I guess I should have figured he was a closet boob man." John concurred silently that, indeed, the Doc must be a boob to want to suggest altering his gorgeous wife in any way.

"Turns out she wasn't the first, and I doubt it will be the last. We actually haven't had sex for about six months now, ever since I first suspected him. He finally confessed that there had been several other women." Maggie lifted her hands from her breasts and again lowered her hands to her cunt, this time sticking her long index finger inside and wiggling ever so slowly. John was thoroughly enjoying the show while becoming increasingly interested in Maggie's story, and where it was heading.

"I told the bastard to fire Meredith, and he complained that all that would do was make him liable for a sexual harassment suit. He was right, of course, he's always protecting his own ass first and foremost, but I ultimately decided a few weeks ago that I didn't really care. Even if Meredith went bye-bye, there would be others. There always are women looking to get their hands on a physician." Maggie smiled ruefully. "Pardon the pun."

"So, I went through a self-appraisal, which is not to be confused with self-pity. I had a little help from my friend, Charlotte, I think you may remember her?" Maggie looked quizzically at John, who, not surprisingly, was adjusting the massive hard-on not bouncing up and down into the inner lining of his pants pocket, such was the length that Maggie had evoked in him.

Oh, John knew about Charlotte, all right, one of his favorite customers, not only because of the amount of her store purchases, but also because she was the quintessential-looking 'MILF'. 

Probably in her late forties, Charlotte Olson kept her voluptuous body firm and her tinted hair blonde and flowing halfway down her back, and was renowned within the store as the commission saleslady's 'bestest' friend. Her fashion sprees, which included generous supplies of the sexiest of lingerie, at least according to the rumors, were almost legendary within the store. Though John generally desperately tried to avoid the store's gossip mills, he couldn't help but to listen when he had heard Charlotte was a divorcee from a Main Line lawyer of one of the most prominent law firms in the area, and enjoying the financial spoils of the recent settlement. Charlotte apparently used to regale the ladies during her sprees with vivid tales of her latest 'revenge boy toys', as Charlotte called her frequent carnal conquests, favoring personal trainers and even, as urban legend had it, two of the rookie power forwards of the 76ers.

Maggie watched John's mouth curl unwittingly into a small smile, and gently shook her head. Was there a man of any age who didn't turn to jelly at the mere mention of Charlotte's name? As sexy as Maggie was herself, she now considered Charlotte her mentor in Maggies' new-found chosen sport of 'cougaring', as Charlotte coined the term. Though Maggie secretly despised the inference, she had to admit that her fledgling explorations into sexual adventures with young men was both invigorating and extremely entertaining. Maggie had been faithful to her husband for almost twenty-thre years before he confessed his philandering, and now she was not above a little 'sport-fucking' herself.

"Yes, I thought you would remember Charlotte." Maggie's words brought John back from his little daydream. "All men seem to remember her." John blushed, hoping that his temporary transgression would not be held against him. Oh, how naive he still was. 

"Charlotte was nice enough to lend me her beach house in Hilton Head for a few days." John indeed recalled that Maggie had taken a long weekend about a month ago, and came back tanned and glowing, which John assumed was from the climate and a few days of sunbathing. There were other activities that helped augment Maggie's glow, as John would next discover.

Maggie continued, still absently-mindedly rubbing her folds on the desk, her juices dripping down onto the wood veneer.

"Charlotte was also nice enough to refer me to Sean, the bartender at the Green Parrot." John averted his gaze from Maggie's lap and looked up at her face. Maggie assumed this revelation would duly capture John's attention.

"Well, let's just say that Sean was very, very nice to me for two days or so. He seemed to get off on the fact that not only was I twice his age, but that I hadn't been with another man for almost twenty-five years. Sean wanted to make up for my lost quarter-century in forty-eight hours." John felt a pang of jealousy deep within, but that was more than offset by the pre-cum now leaking liberally from the tip of his ensconced cock. "He did very well."

Maggie herself was now close to cumming as she not only realized the effect her story was having on John, but also on her own body. She reached down and took off her shoe and inserted the tip of her heel into her slit, the same one that she had used in her stock room a litle earlier, and her vaginal muscles immediately contracted tightly around the tip.

"However," she continued, as John nearly panted for breath now, "Sean was disappointingly unavailable during my last day there, so I decided to go down to Sea Pines and indulge myself with a little shopping at the boutiques. While I was there, I stopped for a mojito or two, and, let's just say the cute maitre'd paid me a lot of extra attention, too. For five fucking hours in his condo above the restaurant."

John looked up at at Maggie, mournfully, expectantly, like a pup begging for his treat. Maggie's hips began to convulse on the table. "But the waiter was VERY old," Maggie gasped. "Almost thirty." With that, Maggie's cunt lips opened and a small flood of nectar spilled out from the gap above shoe tip. Her face contorted and it took every bit of her self-control not to cry out in bliss, as she came and came.

John hadn't ejaculated without any physical contact since he rolled around Carol Cherney's back-seat as a skittish seventeen-year-old virgin, but that streak was now over, too. At the site of Maggie's cunt splashing her own cum, the cum erupted from his own cock, splattering his boxers, and seeped onto the crotch of his suit pants. A mutual masturbation session with only one player using hands. Both Maggie and John struggled to catch their breath and regain some semblance of composure. Thank God he always kept a spare pair of suit pants in his office closet, John thought to himself. 

Maggie's bronzed countenance had a rosy glow that John now recognized. She hopped up from the table, adjusting and smoothing her skirt.

"But enough about Kathy, and Meredith, and Sean, and aging maitre d's." Maggie dabbed playfully at John's soaked crotch, his throbbing cock still spurting small streams of cum beneath his pants. "Let's talk about us."

John was now in a small panic. He hadn't counted on cumming in his pants minutes before his weekly three o'clock conference call with home office. He glanced at his watch. Two-fifty-one.

"So, John, about us?" Maggie peered at John, amused by his crimson face. "I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?" John nodded nervously, his cock rising again, Maggie noticed.Below The Waist John had instant recovery powers with quite the stamina. Just the way Maggie liked it.

"You know I take most Thursdays off because I work on Saturdays, right, John?" He was vaguely cognizant of Maggie's schedule changing in recent weeks. "Well, I've been working every Saturday so that I would have to spend any time with the good Doctor at home. But, anyway, is there a chance you could free yourself from this office early this Thursday for an off-site, follow-up appointment with me? A late lunch, around two?"

John spoke for the first time in nearly an hour, not counting orgasmic grunts. "I think so, Maggie. Why?"

"Because I've taken the liberty of booking a suite for us at the Great Valley Sheraton. You did say you wanted to fuck me, did you not?"

John could only nod, rendered speechless once more, yet perpetually steel hard at Maggie's idea.

"Splendid. Because you're going to get your first real fuck, John. Thursday then, at two, in the lounge, for starters. I'll be attired accordingly. Plan on keeping your evening free as well, shall we?"

Maggie scooped up her books, papers, and prepared to leave the office looking for all the world as if nothing had transpired, always the cool, calm, sophisticated beauty. John, on the other hand, was trying to decipher a good excuse if anyone noticed the puddle on his lap. After all, sales reviews with department managers aren't usually THAT exciting.

"Oh, I almost forgot, one more thing." Maggie stooped at the door jamb. John lifted his head, almost afraid to look at her directly, such was his embarrassment with his predicament.

"If you're as big as Stephanie used to whine about, and from the looks of things, you sure appear to be." Maggie stared at John's soaked crotch. "Charlotte has expressed an interest in participating in a possible subsequent rendezvous. If I duly recommend your skills. I'm quite confident that I will endorse your performance. So, bring the A-game Thursday, boss man."

"Oh, and I've always wanted to try anal, too. Speaking of A-games." She giggled at her little joke.

Maggie opened the door with a smile and called backwards, "Thanks, John, I really appreciate your time." As she walked down the hall, she heard Maggie call to his assistant, "Thanks, Madeline, he's all yours again."

John scurried to the door and began to close it again so that Madeline could not see him in this condition. "Gotta hop right on the weekly call, Maddie, I'm sequestering myself again."

"Wow!" There's that word again, he thought, as the door shut behind him. "Thursday, huh? Wow."

To be continued... 



Maggie May Ch. 03



This is the continuation of the first two chapters in this series. You'd be doing yourself an injustice if you didn't start at Chapters 1 and 2 before commencing on this journey.

*

Thursday 2:23 P.M.

"Cum on my face, cum all over my face!" 

With that encouragement to John, Maggie released the snug grip of her pursed lips from John's twitching cock with an audible 'pop', a strand of her saliva dripping from the tip of his cock, and held her head back, opening her mouth wide to await the pending assault of John's ejaculate.

SPLAT!

The first thick stream of cum landed on Maggie's cheek as she flicked her long tongue frantically to catch it, reluctantly releasing her hands gripped on the base of John's cock as she correctly anticipated the timing of the burst, but misjudged the intensity, and thus, the distance to her throat.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

The next four hard, thick streams landed successively on Maggie's forehead, eyelid, lip (Bullseye!), and chin, respectively. She licked at each spurt determined to taste each in her mouth, like a playful kitten trying to catch soap bubbles wafting in the breeze, her head jerking wildly with each thrust of her young prey's orgasmic display of gratitude for her recently concluded display of oral magic. 

Three somewhat less intense streams followed shortly thereafter in two-to-three second intervals, and Maggie caught at least two directly in her warm mouth, perched wide open to receive the hot jism. She was helped by John's strong hands pulling the back of her head directly over his still pulsing cock head (such a gentleman, that John!), allowing her to savor the tangy flavor of his cum. 

She then reached up and began to lick the residue of hot sperm from John's shaft, licking up and down the base to collect all of the milky white gift, while at the same time, reaching to her face and torso, now dripping with loads of cum, and gobbling the small crescent of gushing cum into her mouth, swishing it to and from in her lips as she would a morning mouthwash. She unconsciously dipped one of her long fingers to the top of her mons and groaned in tandem with John's primal grunt, as he deposited one last, long, burst of hot seed directly onto Maggie's top lip.

John had been in Maggie's suite within the Great Valley Sheraton on this Thursday afternoon pre-planned sexual rendezvous for approximately fifteen minutes, and his cock had been firmly between Maggie's lips, in her mouth, clutched and stroked in her tight palms, or rubbed over her long, pert, protruding pinkish-brown nipples for the last, oh, fourteen minutes and thirty seconds or so.

Immediately after John had entered her room after receiving Maggie's text with the room number, Maggie had lightly kissed John on the lips, and then went to her knees in the foyer, pinning him against the door, unbuckling his belt and suit trousers expertly, and gazing deeply into his eyes lustfully as she swallowed almost the entire length of John's long dick in one deep gulp . John gave not the slightest of resistance, especially once he saw Maggie's attire for the afternoon's festivities. 

Maggie was dressed in virginal white lace from head to toe, with the exception of her leather, ivory five-inch stilettos, which served the purpose of having Maggie tower over John's own five-foot-eleven-inch frame. (Well, at least until she quickly dropped to her knees, of course.) Maggie had pirouetted around first before paying John his oral homage, displaying her bright white lacy bra which barely covered the nipples on her firm, A-or-B-cup (John estimated) perfectly formed tits, and her transparent teardrop petticoat lace mini-slip with the tiniest of white g-strings that was pulled tightly into her camel-toe, which was already plainly dripping with small puddles of heated, anticipatory moisture. She also wore opaque thigh-high stockings on her incredibly long and lean legs, and lace, fishnet arm stockings, which allowed her impeccably manicured fingertips to poke through the holes in her palms. The incredibly sweet aroma of her sex simply permeated the small entrance vestibule of the hotel room, and John allowed himself to be the grateful recipient of this 'en fuego' cougar's oral talents.

Maggie raised herself from the floor, while simultaneously scooping up the gobs of cum that had spurted all over her face and neck, and dripped onto her tits. She pulled John's face to her wow, still stroking his big, throbbing cock with her talented hands, noticing that John had not lost any of the hardness that she had evoked, and tested him to see if he would drink his own cum from within her mouth. John passed the test swimmingly, hungrily slurping his tongue onto Maggie's, sucking it within his own lips, extracting the hot, white liquid that was oozing within her mouth, and eagerly tasted his own flavor for the first time.

All Maggie wanted now as to have John's cock deep inside of her dripping cunt, rough, hard, and long. great minds thought alike, as John lilted Maggie up, carried her halfway across the room, and tossed her onto the mattress of the four-post bed.

Maggie lay on the bed with her legs spread wide, pulling on her nipples lightly, as she watched John remove the rest of his clothes. He still was clad in his shirt and tie, his pants bunched awkwardly around his ankles. He kicked off his shoes and bent down to reach for his socks (always an agonizing few seconds of stumbling when a couple was ready to fuck, Maggie thought). As John stumbled to get appropriately attired (i.e stark naked) for the next sustained session of carnal aerobics, Maggie couldn't help to pose a question out of curiosity.

"So, what did you tell Madeline so that you could play hooky for the afternoon?"

John wriggled his pants off of his ankles, trying unsuccessfully to look poised and suave. "I told her that I'd be fucking Maggie at the Sheraton for the rest of the day, and was not to be disturbed. Isn't the truth always the best?"

Maggie nodded in mock consent with John's sarcasm, playing along with the charade.

John continued, as he climbed onto the bed next to Maggie, unsnapping her bra in one swift motion, leaning down to take her tits in his mouth, sucking and pulling her eraser-sized nipples with his lips. "Why? What did you tell your lady co-workers how you were spending your afternoon off?"

Maggie leaned up to watch John, feeling his hot breath on her breasts, as a small spasm of pleasure coarsed directly to her sex. She nearly trembled with the anticipation that within minutes she would finally have that big cock filling and piercing her pussy. "I told a bunch of the girls that I'd be covered in my boss' cum for the rest of the day. But they said, 'Who hasn't'?" 

John began to lower his head down Maggie's firm, thin stomach, but as his head reached the petticoat slip that was now pulled up to her navel, Maggie pulled John by the back of the head and stopped his approach. 

"Not yet, no, not yet, don't eat me just yet. I need to be fucked now, I need that cock in me, I need to be fucked."

Maggie raised her hips and yanked the slip down her legs, while moving the sheer strand of fabric covering her slit over so that her glistening slit was now fully exposed, swollen, wet, waiting. She curled one index finger seductively at John in a 'come hither' gesture and commanded, "Fuck me. Now." 

Instead of immediately following her command and entering her with her g-string still on her body, John forcefully gripped the thin fabric of the strings on her hips and ripped it into shreads with one violent yank. Maggie gasped, now indescribably aroused. Despite her emotional attachment to John, this was to be Maggie utlimate 'revenge fuck' fantasy come to life. The recent forays with the Hilton Head 'boy toys' had been just a warm-up to today's main event, at least in Maggie's mind. This was the young, virile man that she had lusted after from the first minute that she had laid eyes on him months ago.

John eased his bulbous, engorged cock head into Maggie's gaping hole, but Maggie withdrew, admonishing him with a rather forceful slap of rebuke.

"I'm not one of your prissy little whiny harem girls, I'm a WOMAN, damnit, and I need to be fucked." She grabbed his big dick and lowered it to her cunt, and brought her legs over his shoulders, her long legs spread so lewdly that her heels dug into his shoulder blades.

"Hard." She squirmed as his cock penetrated her folds.

"Deep, that's it, oooh, yes." John got the message now, grabbing her ankles with his strong hands and began to pump in rhythm to Maggie's own pelvic thrusts. 

"Harder, faster, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me, don't hold back!" John pounded Maggie viciously in response to her exhortations, his full balls, slapping her ass, the sound permeating the room, echoing off the walls, adding to the intensity of the act.

Maggie looked at John with eyes that were filled with a look that John had never before seen, animalistic lust, pure uninhibited wanton sexual craving, a true woman in the throes of demanding satisfaction while giving her body for the cause.

"Use my cunt for your pleasure. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Stick that magnificent cock in me, again and again and again. Feel my cunt muscles pull you in, sucking your cock with my cunt? Yeah, baby, take me, fill me up. God, yessssssss, fuck me, Oh, that's it, hard, rough, I want it rough." Maggie screeched her demands, pinching her nipples, her pelvis gyrating and humping high off the mattress, scratching John's buttocks with her fingernails as she frantically pulled him deeper into her sex.

John flipped Maggie over on her side, lifting one leg high in a 'bow and arrow' position, and in this way could rub Maggie's clit and assist her in pulling roughly on her erect nipples, now standing at attention at least a half-inch in excitement. In he next hour, he acquiesced to Maggie's demands by fucking in in perhaps a dozen positions, including several that Maggie had not imagined. She was amazed and aroused at not only the incredible stamina and skill of her new young lover, but also at his creativity and intensity. In between too many orgasms to count, she thought to herself that this was the sexual partner that she had waited for, one with whom to share many future adventurous explorations, one with whom to live out all of her long-repressed desires and fantasies. 

"Jackpot, lucky me", she thought, before her body wracked in yet another spasm of ecstasy.

John was still relatively humble about his own sexual skills. he was blissfully unaware that rare was the man who could demonstrate such impressive stamina. After John came for the first time, he could literally fuck without another orgasm for extended, inordinate periods of time. John assumed this was natural, his only real basis for comparison being the few porn flicks that he had watched with some previous frisky ex-girlfriends. he was just dawning on the extent of his carnal abilities, urged on by Maggie's wails, and moans, and expressive, obscene shouts of instructional direction.

John took Maggie on a virtual 'around the world' tour across the large king-sized mattress, waiting until Maggie spasmed in orgasm in each position before embarking on the next.

He rolled her onto her hands and knees and fucked her doggy-style, his hands grabbing and tugging at her hair. paying close attention to those incredibly sexy strakes of gray on Maggie's temples. he ruminated that he had never seen a lock of Maggie's perfectly coiffed hair out of place before, so he took particular pleasure in assuring that Maggie would exude that 'freshly fucked look' when he was done with her.

He pushed he down roughly on her stomach so that her face was buried in the billowy pillows, and grabbed the cheeks of her firm as, rubbing his thumb around her brown-puckered asshole, and grinned as he watched her clutch the sheets firmly with her outstretched fingers, her cervix being assaulted in a mix of pain yet intense pleasure, as john relentlessly pounded her from behind. he enjoyed this position immensely (as did Maggie, apparently, from her muffled screams and groans) because he felt he could get deeper into Maggie's tight, sopping cunt in this position than any other. The more Maggie squirmed and yelled out her torrential demands to "Fuck me", the harder he pounded her. They were both getting exactly what the craved, but more than they both ever imagined. 

Even though this was pure fucking, not even the pretense of lovemaking, the intimate connection that John and Maggie were commencing on their initial marathon session was indeed laced with affection.

John rolled onto his back and pulled Maggie on top of him, completely in control of her body now, perspiration pouring from Maggie's taut torso, her face contorted into a crimson maze of lust and energy, the constant stream of shouts never-ending despite Maggie's condition. "Yes, keep fucking me, don't stop, roll me over, fill all of my holes, do anything you want, you're incredible, amazing, fuck me ,use me, take me, fill me up, God, yes, do me, anywhere, just keep fucking my cunt, I'm streaming with cum, fuck me."

Maggie now rode John in a reverse cowgirl position, well into the second hour of their aerobic carnival. Maggie couldn't begin to count the number of orgasms that she had, but little did she know that the coup de grace was fast approaching. John admired the sight of his extended cock pounding into Maggie's pussy lips as her firm ass bounced up and down on his cock, each thrust met with an audible exhale of pleasure from Maggie.

Maggie was slender enough that he could try this next position, John thought, with the slightest of trepidation. He had seen it displayed only once, in a sexual instructional video that he happened upon while surfing the Internet one particularly lonely and horny evening, yet had always longed for the proper circumstances to attempt it with the right partner.

While Maggie still rode him in the cowgirl position, he scurried down to the edge of the bed and sat up on its edge, so that Maggie now rode him in while he was in an upright position. he extended his legs out from the bed, and with his feet, tucked Maggie's own feet behind his calves, locking them into place. he grabbed Maggie tightly around her waist with one hand, while with the other hand, he grabbed both of Maggie's wrist and pulled them behind her back.

In one motion, he stood up abruptly, suspending Maggie into the air so that the only gravity that could catch her on her descent was his strong, huge cock. he lifted his won pelvis into the air, grunting with each thrust, as Maggie time and again fell directly onto his cock, deeper than anything she had ever felt. he lifted her, and lifted her, and held her more tightly, realizing he was virtually pummeling her cunt. Maggie's screams now at a decibel level so that the two house keeping maids in the hallway scurried to the door to listen, curious as to the type of activity that could evoke such pleasure, their own pussies melting into secretions of envy.

John pumped Maggie's hot cunt savagely a few more dozen times before the intense pleasure building up in his balls finally culminated with a pending explosion. he turned around and tossed Maggie roughly onto the bed, barely realizing that she was on the verge of passing out from the arousal, and pulled her face to his cock, and spurted all spurt after spurt of cum onto Maggie's face,neck, and tits, her eyes rolling into her head as she literally collapsed and passed out from exhaustion and the sheer intensity of her countless orgasms, her body still shuddering in mini-explosions, as Maggie lapsed into a temporary sex-induced coma.

John fell back onto the bed himself, snuggling next to Maggie, stroking her cum-matted forehead tenderly, anxious that she would be all right. He was encouraged that her erratic breathing was gradually returning to normal. As he caressed her face, pulling her body closer to his, his eyes scanned the rest of the hotel room suite for the first time, and stopped when he saw the video camera on the dresser, its lens pointing towards the bed. He got up from the bed, and leaned cautiously into towards the camera, unwittingly giving the lens a close-up of his now flaccid cock, as he reached for the handle. 

He picked up the camcorder and saw that it was still in 'record' mode. "Well, I'll be damned," he thought, and switched the toggle to 'off'. At first, he was angered and nervous by the realization that the previous seventy-five minutes or so had been documented for the archives, but as he sat with the camera in his hand and contemplated the possible implications, his exhausted cock began to twitch involuntarily again, against all odds. 

He was aroused, he admitted to himself, he liked it, her surreptitious recording turned him on tremendously. This was wild. Maggie began to resuscitate, softly purring and moaning, and now rolled onto her side. John waited patiently for her revival with the camera in his hand, and switched it once again to 'on', and swept the camera over her body. 

He zoomed in on her cum-splattered face, and then lowered the lens to her swollen and sweetly battered pussy, which oozed a mixture of juices and precipitation down her thighs and ass, the remnants of an explosive vaginal orgasm of Maggie's, the large puddle of their mutual cum soaking the bed sheet. "This could be very, very, very fun," he decided.

More to follow, stay tuned. 



Maggie May Ch. 04



Readers, I hope you've been following along since the inception of this series. If not, I respectfully implore you to go back and devour the first three chapters before embarking on this journey. Hurry, what're you waiting for!?!? Enjoy!! 

***********

As Maggie stirred, beginning to recover from her brief, sex-induced slumber, John went to the dresser and returned the camcorder to its original position. Almost as an afterthought, however, he flicked open the compartment that held the cassette tape and removed it before putting the camera back. Maggie groaned a bit more animatedly, and John looked around for a safe harbor to stash the small cassettes. 

It wasn't as if he had any pockets at the moment. He reached down beneath the bed and placed the tape on the floor beneath the mattress, the covers and spreads still askew form the frantic sexual aerobic session that had just transpired. Just in time.

Maggie sleepily cocked one eye open and brushed the hair cascading down her forehead. John had never seen Maggie's hair in any condition other than perfectly pristine. Never does a woman look so sexy when she has just been thoroughly fucked, he thought to himself. 

Maggie reached out for John and sought his hand for comfort. She struggled to open both eyes and gazed at him sleepily, trying to regain her bearings. "Jesus, I must've had a dream that I had the best sex of my life and fainted," she grinned.

"Hmmm, that's funny, I had a dream myself that my cock nearly fell off from overuse." John played along, hugging Maggie to his chest, holding her tenderly, despite his apprehension about the discovery of the camera. The fact that it was out in the open obviously meant that Maggie wasn't trying to conceal anything, but still, he wondered about her intentions. But that was a question for later. 

There was still some unfinished business to attend to, as his cock stirred again, almost impossibly so. Just the mere sensation of her fabulous body against his own brought his member twitching menacingly back to life.

Maggie cocooned herself inside of John's strong arms. "So, how long was I out?"

John glanced at his wrist, as if feigning to look at a watch. "No more than a couple of days. It's Sunday, I've been watching football."

Maggie punched his ribs playfully. "Well, then, you've had plenty of time to recover, you should be ready to go again." She looked around the room, her brow furrowing. "So, where is it?"

John felt an immediate pang of panic rising in his chest. How could she have known? He played dumb, though. "Where's what?"

Maggie reached down between John's legs and caressed his slowly rising cock. "Aaaah, there it is! My hard cock! I thought it left me there for a minute. Why isn't it inside me again?" Maggie leaned up and kissed John deeply, stroking his cock more urgently, and bringing his free hand down to cup her still sopping pussy. "I need to suck it again, don't I? Puh-leeze?"

"That's a silly question, but Ok, since you finally asked so politely." John climbed off of the edge of the bed and stood at the base. While doing so, he eased his toes underneath the mattress, and kicked the tape a little bit further under the bed. 

Maggie crawled on her hands and knees towards him, a ravenous feline again on the prowl for hard dick. She stopped inches away from his cock and stared directly at it, mesmerized by its length, desperately wanting to have this magnificent penis penetrate all of her holes. For now, however, her mouth was the immediate target.

She grabbed John's buttocks with both hands and pulled him roughly into her. "Fuck my mouth, lover, fuck me, fuck my mouth." 

She swallowed about five inches of John's girth whole in one dramatic gulp, testing her gag reflex to the limit, but not releasing her grip, except to extricate his cock from the oral lock of her throat to again encourage him. "Fuck my mouth. I want to lick your balls."

Maggie rolled over on her back and crawled directly underneath John's large sac. As her hands reached up to stroke John's member from an upside-down position, she popped one of John's testicles between her lips and sucked hard. She started a rhythm by alternating sucking on his balls, licking the ultra-sensitive place on the base of his pubic bone, just above his anus, and pulled on his cock harder and harder. She loved the sensation of again bringing John to his full length and thick ness. 

She loved the feeling of complete seduction and power over a man. She hadn't let herself express her sexuality in such wanton and uninhibited displays of lust in her entire life, until very recently, and she knew instinctively that she and John were just scratching the apex of many sexual adventures to come. For that, she silently thanked her friend Charlotte for encouraging her to indulge herself in such pursuits of pleasure.

While Maggie continually sucked and grabbed and licked and stroked John's now fully turgid manhood, she couldn't help but to ponder Charlotte's motivations for being so interested in watching a videotape of John's and Maggie's explosive lovemaking. No, Maggie corrected herself just as quickly. Fucking was what this was. This was not lovemaking. This was fucking. Sport-fucking, perhaps, but just great fucking. 

When you're upside down beneath a man's balls and starting to lick the rim of his asshole, lovemaking was not the most accurate verb, she correctly decided. "But I'll bet this'll look incredible on tape," she mused. 

This thought aroused her even further and she wriggled her talented tongue along John's rectum, and her own hips writhed in excitement as she could hear his loud moans of surprise. 

Regardless of Charlotte's intentions, which would be fleshed out soon enough, Maggie couldn't help but to concur with her friend's spot-on assessment that being the star of your own surreptitious home-made porn tape was indeed the ultimate aphrodisiac. Well, perhaps it was a tie with a good long, steel- hard dick dangling in front of your nose, Maggie mused. 

Maggie was quickly diverted from her musings as John rearranged his hips and placed his long cock directly into Maggie's gaping mouth, now rhythmically banging Maggie's throat repeatedly, going just a little bit deeper into her throat with each heated thrust of his pelvis. Maggie staggered to capture all of his length, determined to meet each thick inch of John's penile challenge.

Suddenly, John orchestrated yet another aerobic position that brought the blood rushing to Maggie's head, literally. he reached down and pulled Maggie up by her hips so that she was suspended in mid-air, held in place only by John's grip on her torso, and he lifted her higher so that her dripping cunt was pulled into his face, lapping fervently at her folds now. They had assumed an almost defiant miracle of gravity, a vertical sixty-nine position.

Fortunately, the combination of Maggie's long,slender frame coupled with John's upper-body strength, augmented by hormonal adrenalin, made this position an incredibly erotic and surprisingly comfortable one. In this way, Maggie could easily engulf almost john's entire shaft into her hot, talented mouth, while simultaneously John had unfettered access into each of Maggie's vaginal and anal entries. 

While Maggie frantically stroked and gulped John's swollen dick, veins, and balls, John lapped eagerly at Maggie's sweet cunt , sipping at the nectars flowing like a small waterfall down directly into his own mouth. he eased one of his hands from Maggie's waist and eased a finger into her asshole. With that digital administration, Maggie exploded instantly into a volcanic orgasm, her hips bucking wildly, her juices cascading from her hole onto John's face now in a torrent of white, milky fluids.

John himself was at the verge of yet another burst of semen, and wasn't ready to end his assault on Maggie's cunt and ass. So, he flopped Maggie over in a semi-somersault so that she bounced onto the mattress and in one motion he roughly pulled her legs down to the edge of the bed as he kneeled on the edge. He again slid his tongue into Maggie's saturated pussy, his tongue encircling her clit, and pushed a second digit deeper into her ass, feeling it spread wider, preparing her virginal asshole for the pending insertion of his throbbing cock.

Maggie couldn't even utter her filthy urgings to John any longer, her entire being was consumed with one orgasm after another, cumming in small, electric bursts, her stomach heaving and gyrating as each wonderful shock wave enveloped her one after the other. One hand gripped the bed sheet in a strangle hold while the other pulled the back of John's head tighter into her lap. 

She grunted and growled and wailed and whimpered and John knew it was time. He spit saliva into Maggie's now gaping anal passage and rubbed the spit along her rim walls. The naturally lubricated combination of Maggie's dripping cunt juices and the slick shaft of John's own cock would make the anal entry relatively pain free for Maggie, and intensely pleasurable for them both.

John stood on his feet and lifted Maggie's hips to him as they looked each other squarely in the eye. With an unspoken gleam in her eye indicating both fear yet intense anticipation, Maggie nodded tentatively and bit her top lip as John eased his large swollen cockhead gently into Maggie's heretofore forbidden tunnel. Her sphincter opened instinctively to meet the unfamiliar intruder as John felt the incredible tightness of Maggie's rear entryway struggle to oblige his penetration.

Maggie's eyes lowered now to watch her virginal passage begin to accept John's cock quarter-inch by quarter-inch. She unconsciously dropped her left hand down to her clit and massaged herself into greater stimulation. The combination of her fingertips dancing along her hood coupled with the juices continuing their descent from Maggie's pussy down to her ass made the sensation much more accessible than she had imagined. 

Emboldened by the realization that the pleasure was winning the battle over pain with each small thrust of John's cock, Maggie regained her faculties enough to mutter these words to John in a guttural demand. 

"Now fuck my ass harder, give it to me, give me that big cock deep in my ass, fuck me, John, fuck my ass."

John didn't say a word now, such was his concentration and focus on this mutually erotic pleasure excursion. The tight anal passages of Maggie's gripped John's cock in an impossibly tight vise-like embrace as John now had three or four inches into Maggie's rear. Maggie herself rubbed her clit furiously with each slight intrusion deeper into her ass, her muscles contracting and relaxing so that she could accommodate the pulsing welcomed stranger in her ass.

John knew he could not avoid the inevitable rumbling deep within his balls for much longer, and held his head back and closed his eyes as he pumper harder into Maggie, valiantly trying to meet her insistent verbal urgings. "Yeah, that's it, I love it, fuck my ass harder. deep, that's it. I love that cock in my ass, Oh, God, what have I been missing, I love this cock, I love it in my ass, fuck me, fuck me with that cock, come on, give it to me, give it."

With a deep groan, John shot his cum deep into Maggie's bowels. As she felt the first shot reach her deepest insides, Maggie's body convulsed into yet another incredibly satisfying orgasm, her first from anal penetration, but not to be her last. John collapsed onto Maggie's still heaving torso, their bodies a tangled, exhausted mix of sweat and saliva and cum. Mostly cum.

"Oh my fucking God," Maggie thought. "That was absolutely incredible. Charlotte was so right about being fucked in the ass. I can't wait to tell her all about this afternoon. I wonder how this looks on tape. We could probably sell our own sex instructional after that."

John gasped for breath beside Maggie, his sore, chapped cock now TKO'd for the foreseeable future. "Now," John thought. "Let's find out about this camera."

Then, he had one more silent thought.

"Wow!"

************

Chapter Five will solve a few mysteries, while unraveling a few new ones. Please tag along, you're all invited. Feedback in any form, as always, is encouraged, thanks! 



Maggie May Ch. 05



Dearest readers: The first three installments of this series are in the 'mature' category, and the fourth in the 'anal' section (hmmm, guess why?), if you're following along at home, and need to catch up. This is a mystery novel, can't you tell?

*

Maggie jumped up from the bed, amazingly spry for a woman who had just orchestrated and been the leading lady in approximately four hours of relatively non-stop (well, except for the brief interlude of her sex-induced coma) live carnal activities. She disappeared into the bathroom. John's gaze riveted upon her tight forty-seven-year-old ass the entire time. He thought of Sam Elliott's line from the movie Roadhouse. "That girl has entirely too much brains to have an ass like that."

He had expected her to go into the bathroom to primp and rearrange her mangled just-fucked hair and dab her make-up. Instead, she emerged moments later with one of those scrunchy, spongy-type things (John's definition, at least) that women use to cleanse themselves with in the tub or shower, and a plush towel. And a sweetly evil grin.

Maggie climbed onto the bed in front of John and knelt before him and began to gently sponge his flaccid cock and empty balls. "Even though that was my first anal voyage, I know enough that we must practice good hygiene, baby. We're gonna need this equipment for the grand finale this evening."

John promptly became an interested spectator of this ball-washing event, though the idea of performing one last virtuoso performance seemed far-fetched right now. However, as Maggie continued the incredibly erotic cleansing and scrubbing and stroking and teasing of his genitals, he began to slowly, somewhat miraculously, feel another stirring deep within his loins. His mind drifted again to George Costanza's mango that resulted in a similar Lazarus-like resuscitation. "I think it moved."

Maggie arched her head backwards and looked down admiringly at her work, taking keen and prideful notice that her manual administrations had indeed begun to evoke the desired effect of her plan, to resurrect John's hard cock so that she could have it impale her needy cunt one last time this evening. She was keenly aware that John had coated her face, mouth, tits, and asshole with gobs of warm cum, but she badly needed to fill her pussy with his hot semen as well. 

Maggie relished the thought of going home to her philandering husband with a virile, younger man's cum covering her pores and oozing from each of her orifices, just as she relished the thought of all of this being captured on the video camera. She glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed and realized that the four-hour tape would be just about expiring. She leaned down to teasingly kiss the tip of John's now semi-turgid cockhead, before jumping off of the bed towards the video recorder on the dresser.

John watched as she flipped open the compartment that would normally have held the tape. Except that it was now safely under the bed. John knew this, Maggie did not. He watched her face as if furrowed into a frown of worry. "Shit, don't fucking tell me that I forgot to load the tape," she thought. She pondered this for a few seconds, then convinced herself that she had indeed loaded a cassette before John had arrived. Her neck swiveled to look at John sprawled across the mattress, and saw the scowl on his own face. John propped his body up onto his elbows.

"Ah, yes, the tape. Why don't we talk about that for a minute or two, Margaret?"

The way Maggie looked at John told him instantly that there were no malicious or improper motives of Maggie's. John was born and raised in the inner city and his rapid ascent in his professional career was in no small measure attributable to his 'street-smarts' and his innate ability to read people accurately. Well, the possible exception being one recent ex-girlfriend named Kathy, he had fucked up that assessment royally by his own self-admission. He found Maggie's wide-eyed stare adorable. She suddenly looked like a little girl about to be admonished for bringing home a present to daddy that cost too much.

"Did you throw the tape out?" Maggie's full lower lip quivered in a mortified pout. "I thought you would find it exciting. I thought we could watch it together later and get off. You had to notice the camera, it was there the whole time."

John's voice tried to be as comforting as possible, though he wasn't going to relent from ascertaining the source of Maggie's motivation for the presence of the camera. His gut already had formulated a theory, and he wanted to find out if it had merit. "I have the tape, Maggie, for now."

Maggie's expression changed to one of confusion. "Wait a minute, but, how? When did you take the tape? We were here the whole time, you never left the bed." Maggie couldn't help herself and didn't even attempt to suppress a smile. "Hell, you were INSIDE of me the whole time. Well, different parts of me, at least."

John opened his arms and motioned for Maggie to cuddle up inside of them, to reassure her. She took him up on the gesture and curled up in a fetal position within his embrace. He cradled her chin in his hand and kissed her forehead lightly, brushing that strand of impossibly sexy gray hair from her temples.

"Well, I told you earlier that when you passed out, you were out for three days. I had to give the tape a break, it was crying for mercy, no mas, no mas. It was about to explode from the heat of the sex it was filming. I was afraid it was going to cum, and who needs tape sperm all over the room. What would the housekeeping maids think?"

Maggie giggled, sighing gratefully now that she realized that John was not upset. She slapped him playfully on his thigh, perilously close to his ever-awakening cock. "Well, where is it then, Sherlock?"

John released Maggie from his grip and turned on his stomach and reached under the bed, his legs dangling up in the air and his as rising from the bed, giving Maggie a close-up view of his tight, athletic, twenty-eight year-old butt. His balls dangled from between his ass cheeks like an inviting fruit bowl. Well, at least this was Maggie's analogy. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the erotic sight of John's writhing pelvis and bouncing testicles directly in front of her as he fished beneath the boxspring for the elusive tape. In the fleeting few seconds that she had before John emerged with the tape, she thought to herself, "That's a nice angle for my next blow job to him, so that I can taste that cute little ass of his, too." Maggie's nipples rose and hardened again at this image.

John unraveled his torso and held the tape up victoriously over his head. "Tah-dah!" He simultaneously blushed, now realizing the less-than-gentlemanly view that he had just unwittingly provided for Maggie. "Oh, um, sorry about that," he muttered bashfully. 

Maggie grabbed John's face in her slender fingers and slid her long tongue deep into his surprised mouth, swirling it around and around John's mouth in a prolonged, lustful acclimation of her arousal, both physical and emotional. She released her mouth but continued to hold John's face in her hands urgently. "Are you kidding me? That's what I wanted to do with that tasty-looking ass of yours. You've fucked my ass, it's the least I can do to tongue-fuck yours." She again slid her warm, long, probing tongue deeply into John's mouth.

These words served the instant purpose of John's penile resurrection. Maggie felt the enormous cock head bumping against her stomach as he continued to probe his mouth, and in one motion, lowered her mouth from John's own and slithered down his body, engulfing his cock within her lips, sucking on the shaft frantically. John tossed the tape to the side of the mattress and grabbed Maggie roughly by the back of her head, pulling her into a heated face-fucking. With Maggie's mouth fully engorged on his cock, this time it was John who took command of the filthy verbal directives.

"Is this the kind of thing you wanted to tape, Maggie?" She slurped and groaned her affirmation as John felt his cock grow deep within her hot throat. "You want to watch your face get fucked, like this? You want to be my whore, deep-throating my big cock?" 

Maggie's free hand dipped between her own legs, and three fingers penetrated her labias, her juices pouring out of her cunt. She wasn't expecting this demonstration of force from John, yet it was exactly as she craved. She had created the proverbial monster, and it had an angry eight-inch cock that was assaulting her mouth while it screamed demeaning obscenities at her. 

She loved it. She spit on his cock and stroked it furiously, strands of spit dangling from her mouth, and covering John's tip, shaft, and huge balls.

"You feel how thick and long you've got me now, slut? You feel me in your mouth? You want it in your cunt, now, too, don't you, don't you? I'll bet your cunt is already so sore from me so hard already, but I'm gonna fuck it raw." 

Maggie came, hard, his words echoing in her ears as she finger-fucked herself furiously into another orgasm. John felt her shudder as she gripped his cock even tighter within her mouth, in involuntary response to her body writhing from the pleasure of her explosion. "That's it, you just came, didn't you, you fucking slut? Just from my big cock in your mouth. Well, now it's gonna split you apart. Ride me, get on top of me and ride my cock, I want you to go home dripping my cum out of your cunt, I wanna cum in you. Ride me, you got me so hard, now use my cock for your pleasure, and get on top of me and fuck me. Fuck me, Maggie, and then we'll watch our tape together."

John released his grip on the back of Maggie's head and picked her up by the hips and threw her into the air, catching her as she was about to make landfall, and plopped her down directly onto his cock, still thickly covered with Maggie's saliva. She wailed loudly as she landed precisely on target, her cunt stretched impossibly widely by John's massive organ. She was like an astronaut returning from orbit, pulled by g-forces that made her dizzy, her head spinning, the gravitational pull of the atmosphere now centered directly on her pussy, ground zero coming together as one, the irresistible force of John's cock pummeling the immovable object of Maggie's gaping cunt.

At that very moment, the phone on the hotel room's nightstand rang, the unexpected audible intrusion shocking the two into a momentary suspension of their animalistic gyrations. "Oh, Jesus, not now," Maggie thought, her vaginal muscles still pulsing and contracting on John's member deep within her. 

"Houston, do we have a problem," John thought.

Maggie reached for the phone while John's throbbing cock remained imbedded deeply within her. "Hello," she mumbled tentatively. She listened for a second, and John could hear another woman's voice emanating from the phone next to Maggie's ear. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Charlotte! What fucking timing." Maggie smiled, relieved that there was a familiar voice. She was worried that perhaps the sounds coming from their room had been the subject of complaints from the occupants of the neighboring rooms. (Truth be told, there was indeed a businessman who had his ear pressed against the wall of the adjacent room while he yanked himself madly, agitated that the phone ringing had interrupted HIS pending orgasm.)

Feeling Maggie's relief as her cunt muscles loosened around his cock, John diverted Maggie's attention by thrusting his hips upwards and slamming his entire length into her, pummeling her embattled cervix. She moaned loudly into the mouthpiece. "Well, if you must know, yes, he's still here, and he's fucking me right now, I'm riding this magnificent cock like I have never been fucked before. Care to listen in?" Maggie held the phone down and let it hover right over 'ground zero', inches above the connection of John's and Maggie's genitals pounding into each others.

"Can you hear that, Charlotte?" Maggie yelled into the air and she bounced up and down wildly on John's cock. "Can you hear that big cock splitting me in two? Can you hear it, can you imagine it inside of you, Charlotte? You want it, don't you? You want this cock, too? Well, you can't have it, not right now, because it's inside MY cunt, Charlotte, and it's fucking ME, hard, oooooh, so hard, and I'm riding it, and I can feel it throbbing." 

John watched Maggie's face contort into a rainbow of crimson and purple and pink and he felt the gurgle of yet another volcanic eruption, he had never seen a woman display her inhibitions in this manner, explicitly narrating to an unexpected caller just how thoroughly and completely she was being fucked by this wonderful, young swordsman. His own self-control had all but abated and he was ready to release into Maggie's tunnel.

"He's going to cum, Charlotte, I can feel it, he's close, he's going to cum in my tight cunt, just as he's already cum on my face, my hair, my ass, that's right, Char, I got fucked in the ass tonight, and it was FANTASTIC, he's cum in me three times, all over me, and he's about to, oh, aaaah, oooh, oooh, here it COOOOMMMMEEESSSS!!!"

Maggie felt the first strong burst of John's seed shoot deeply into her hole, and as the subsequent spurts warmed her cunt with hot liquid, her own cunt convulsed again and again and again and again. She could no longer narrate to Charlotte, such was the intensity of her own excitement, but there was no need to. Charlotte had her own visual image thanks to Maggie's gracious inclusion of Charlotte's participation over the phone, and Charlotte was busily fingering herself into her own explosive release. 

"A three-way simultaneous orgasm," Charlotte thought to herself as her fingers eased from her soaked thong. "Now that's a talented magic trick. I have to fuck this guy for myself. Soon. I'll have the tape of Maggie fucking John and then perhaps I can make one for myself." 

Maggie and John collapsed exhausted on the bed, oblivious to the sound coming from the phone, which Maggie had dropped onto the mattress.

"Maggie, dear?" Charlotte waited for the reply, correctly anticipating that the hotel room occupants were in the throes of a recovery. As Maggie wearily picked up the phone, both she and John heard Charlotte's voice at the same time.

"Maggie, that sounds incredibly and splendidly decadent." 

"You DID record all this on tape, haven't you?"

* 

To be continued. The plot thickens.



Maggie May Ch. 06



To familiarize yourself with the characters, it would behoove you, dear reader, to start at the outset of this series to tag along. After all, prolonged foreplay leads to the greatest climax. 

***************** 

All I needed was a friend to lend a guiding hand.

But you turned into a lover, and Mother what a lover.

You wore me out.

*****************

Charlotte's inadvertent mistake when she had assumed Maggie had the phone to her ear led to the plan that John and Maggie had now concocted. Once the two had shared various insights and intuitions, they became convinced that Charlotte's ultimate intentions, though certainly carnal in nature, were anything but altruistic.

It was a far different plan than the one that they had shared with Charlotte, who was under the impression that the duo in the hotel room was seriously contemplating Charlotte's invitation for a private party at her house on Sunday evening, just the three of them. While on one level both Maggie and John found the offer incredibly arousing, they were also prudent once they had mutually discussed Charlotte's actions and potential motives. So, Maggie and John had decided on the best of both worlds for them, to have their cake and eat it, too. So to speak.

Maggie began to get dressed as John lay on the bed and watched her admiringly. She was still caked in cum, and her body oozed the scent of the pair's intense sexual sessions over the past many hours. John had taken Maggie up on the suggestion that he utilize the spacious hotel suite and luxurious bed to slumber for the evening, understanding that Maggie had to be home in time to make breakfast for her teenaged daughter in the morning, but couldn't help but to inquire, "Aren't you going to at least shower before going home to the mad doctor?"

Maggie stood in front of the mirror, but instead of brushing her mussed and curled and semen-matted hair back to some semblance of normalcy, she tossed it into even greater disarray. "Nope, my daughter will be asleep, and I want him to see me like this. Since he was kind enough to finally divulge that he's been fucking a twenty-eight year-old with big tits, I'll leave it up to him to surmise that his trophy wife just got thoroughly fucked by a twenty-eight-year-old of her own." Maggie glanced down at John, still prone and naked on the mattress. "With a BIG cock, mmmmmmm." Maggie bent down from the waist while still clasping her bra over her breasts, her nipples still pointing like bright pink pencil erasers, to place a slow, wet kiss directly on John's purple cock head.

She rose and continued gathering up her accessories and the rest of the belongings. "So, tell me again what Charlotte did at the divorce trial? And, how do you know the facts?"

John rolled over onto his side and propped up his head with three or four of the feathery pillows, and emitted a loud, exhausted sigh. "I told you, my best friend is one of the editors of the Daily News. The paper was kind of strong-armed into not revealing all of the sordid details of the divorce trial by Old Man Olson's powerful legal firm, but my buddy told me the inside scoop. And, they are juicy. And kind of eerie." Mrs. Olson was the epitome of the scorned, manipulating, vengeful woman in the private eye, while maintaining an angelic-like, Mother Theresa persona to the public.

What had been reported by the local print and television media was that one Charlotte Olson, local Main Line socialite, debutante and on the boards of numerous philanthropic agencies throughout the Philadelphia region, had won a seven-figure settlement in her highly-publicized divorce case against her philandering, hot-shot attorney partner of an international law firm husband, several years back.

What John had discovered on the sly from his newspaper crony was much more detailed. John was indeed a conspiracy believer by nature, and the sidebars shocked but ultimately did not surprise him.

Almost a decade ago, Charlotte Olson had numerous reasons to believe that her wealthy, powerful husband had been engaged in numerous extra-marital activities. She had secretly conspired with one of Counselor Olson's own partners in his law firm, a man who Charlotte knew had long been a business enemy of Mr. Olson's, and irrationally jealous of his partner's ruthless rain-making abilities.

Charlotte had enticed her husband's partner with that most powerful weapon of seduction, her own pussy. After several weeks of fucking the partner, Charlotte had convinced him that the most effective way to undermine her own husband's alleged unethical legal behaviors was to secretly install a series of pinhole camera in his office, augmented by listening devices.

The end result was even better than Charlotte could have hoped for. Though the tapes ultimately were ruled inadmissible as evidence at trial, the damage had ben done and was irrevocable. Both Charlotte's husband and her lover were dismissed from the bar, and Charlotte's husband permanently relocated in shame to the Cayman Islands, a shattered career and family life in his rear-view mirror, crushed personally, professionally, and financially.

It turned out the Mr. Olson had used his own office to conduct most of his illicit deal-makings of the sexual nature. Months worth of videotapes had shown the esteemed, distinguished, brilliant lawyer in less-than-dignified various acts of debauchery. Cross-dressing. Dominance and submission. yet the most damaging tape of all was the rather disturbing video of Mr. Olson raping a young, male first-year lawyer at his firm, the young man bound and gagged and blindfolded on his couch, being pummeled by a nude, whip-bearing Mr. Olson, who shouted threats in the young lawyer's ears that he would tell NO ONE.

Yep, that was worth a hefty seven-figure settlement by the prodigious law firm to not let that piece of tape be made public. Mrs. Olson agreed to the settlement offer under the condition of complete confidentiality. The firm further mitigated its potential public-relations damage by using its substantial local influence upon the publishers and station managers of the local print and electronic media, respectively, to keep this entire incident on the hush-hush. 

Everyone lost something in this whole unimaginably sordid situation, even the now filthy rich and newly independent Charlotte Olson. She had sold her soul to the legal devils in return for several million dollars and got to keep her board positions and public image unblemished. However, Charlotte's only daughter, Sarah, at the time a young college student in the Carolinas, who admired and revered her father and found her own life to be irrevocably shattered by the familial humiliation, was determined to never speak to her mother again. What price does one pay for wealth, Sarah would always wonder.

Maggie pondered this entire situation as John recanted his insider's knowledge of Charlotte's background and character. While John spoke, Maggie's mind flashed back to some of her own interactions with Charlotte, now rather curious with the benefit of clarity of data and hindsight. Charlotte had been the one to actively encourage Maggie to engage in her own extra-marital affairs as justifiable revenge and retribution for Maggie's own husband's infidelities. 

Maggie now questioned to herself why Charlotte had gone so far as to lend Maggie the Hilton Head villa, as well as a willing and waiting young paramour, for Maggie's own excursion into extra-marital encounters. Maggie now began to also ponder why Charlotte had seemed so unreasonably agitated when Charlotte had discovered that Maggie's unplanned second tryst in Hilton Head, with the charming maitre'd of the Sea Pines restaurant, had not taken place at Charlotte's house.

Maggie had been lured in and convinced by Charlotte to film her latest encounter with John under the auspices that Maggie and Charlotte could view it together and derive tremendous voyeuristic pleasures. Maggie was at first understandably hesitant, yet her reluctance waned when Charlotte showed Maggie snippets from Charlotte's own personal collection of sex tapes, starring none other than Charlotte Olson. Charlotte's various co-stars in the films were numerous, young, well-endowed, well-built young men, who serviced Charlotte, long and hard, acquiescing to Charlotte's demands and incredibly voracious appetite for cock. 

The image of the video of Charlotte fucking three young studs who appeared to be barely out of their teens danced in Maggie's head. She had never seen nor imagined a mature woman acting in such an unfettered, uninhibited, and yes, whorish manner. When Maggie had first viewed the tape in Charlotte's den, with Charlotte narrating the action to Maggie in a soft, slow, animatedly seductive voice, Maggie thought she would flood the couch with her excitement. Maggie drove home shortly thereafter, and had to stop several times along Lincoln Highway to manually relieve her own pent-up arousal. Maggie was reeled in by Charlotte, she had to admit it, hook, line and sinker. Maggie's own deep desires and energies had been repressed for virtually decades, and with Charlotte, she had found an experienced and nurturing source of encouragement for Maggie's own pursuits of sexual explorations.

She also wanted to experience such electronic activity herself, and at the time, she was more than eager to share with her personal mentor. Maggie had no way of knowing, until now, that Charlotte had a history of using such illicit videos for personal leverage. Armed now with this knowledge, and her inherent trust in John and his well-conceived plan, she was determined to turn the tables of Charlotte and attempt to beat her at her own game, though without the domino-like painfully punitive repercussions on many lives. The plan that Maggie and John were prepared to enact would only entrap Charlotte in her own salacious web. She gave John a soft, slow, passionately grateful kiss as a sincere 'thank you' for the most incredible sexual afternoon and evening of her life, yet Maggie's kiss contained more meaning for her. 

Maggie had recently been awakened to many new adventures in her life, sexually and otherwise, and she intuitively sensed that she was about to embark on a new, tremendously exciting and powerfully fulfilling chapter of her sexual and emotional life.

On the other hand, as Maggie left the room and John wearily reached to turn off the light for an evening of much-needed sleep, he summarized the night's event in one word before dozing.

"Wow!"

Fridays were always hectic in the department store and this had been no exception. Sixty percent of a department store's sales were made each week between the hours of noon Friday and close of business Sunday, so there were a lot of preparations for the weekend to accomplish. John conducted his weekly staff meeting with his department managers, and he and Maggie went about their business in the normal fashion, Maggie rattling off her sales projections and staffing plans in front of the group without the slightest indication that John's cock had been buried in each of her holes barely twelve hours before. 

On the surface, she was her usual unflappable and impeccably attired self, the consummate industry professional. On the inside, however, from the recent unfamiliar pounding it had taken last evening, her mouth and cunt still felt stretched from the John's massive girth filling her fully. She wanted more, she was insatiable now. She knew John was going out of town this weekend, in conjunction with their plan, and she would not see him again until Sunday, with Charlotte. Yet, she burned for more cock, she needed it soon, she had to have it, something, in the next forty-eight hours. Rather than being exhausted, she was fervently energized with sexual adrenalin.

She thought of that age-old joke from her days as a country girl in her youth, told by her older, more daring schoolmates. "Cock-a-doodle-do, any cock'll do!" She made a call to a sitter for care for her daughter on Saturday night. She was going to go prowling for fun Saturday, she decided. Her pussy was still too sore to fuck, but she didn't have lockjaw, either. She was going to practice her oral abilities on some soon-to-be fortunate young man, a hard, young strangers's cock to suck, to hone her skills, to temporarily sate her desires. 

For his part, the sleep had done John wonders, and he, too, was sharp and alert and invigorated by the sinister brilliance of their idea. In John's mind, the beauty of their plan was that they would beat Charlotte at her own game, but not until after they had enjoyed Charlotte's legendary sexual talents themselves. 

Maggie had confessed to John that watching the beautiful Charlotte Olson demonstrate her body and sexual escapades on film had aroused a long-repressed wanting within Maggie to experience a woman for the first time. Charlotte had made this offer to them on the phone the prior evening, for a threesome to be held at Charlotte's house on Sunday night, yet John and Maggie had initially played coy and would not commit, at least not to Charlotte, much to Charlotte's dismay and dissatisfaction. Privately, though, the two conspirators had agreed that the premise had intrigued them tremendously. Despite her unattractive moral character, it could hardly be argued that Charlotte Olson was anything but a sensationally beautiful, desirable object of lust, by either gender. This would be a revenge fuck at its best, the tables turned on Charlotte this time.

John had booked his flight to Savannah, Georgia, for early Saturday morning, while also booking the return flight back to Philly for mid-day Sunday. Ironically, there were no direct flights to Savannah, so the connecting flight would be in, of all places, Charlotte. John had also made the call for an appointment with one Sarah Olson, now a young real estate agent on Hilton Head Island, for two o'clock on Saturday afternoon in Sarah's Palmetto Dunes office. 

John had spoken to Sarah personally, and described himself as a business man looking for an upscale time-share opportunity on the island, explaining that Sarah had come highly recommended from a mutual acquaintance from Sarah's home town of Philadelphia. John promised to a curious, though flattered, Sarah that he would elaborate more upon arrival, but wanted to assure Sarah's undivided availability for few hours for some tours of the island homes on Saturday afternoon. Sarah, of course, had eagerly agreed to clean her schedule and accommodate any of John's needs for the day.

Almost as soon as John had hung up the phone to Sarah Olson, John looked up to se the source of the knock on his office door. it was Madeline, his trusted and loyal assistant. "Excuse me, Mr. Davis," Madeline softly said. Maddie only called John by his last name as a sign of respect when there was a customer or vendor waiting for John. John never made appointments with vendors on Fridays, so he correctly assumed that a customer wanted to talk with him, probably with some complaint, it came with the territory as the boss. "Mrs. Olson would like to talk to you."

John felt a tinge of anxiety as he straightened his tie and walked to door to greet his unexpected visitor. He peered outside of the entranceway to see Charlotte sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the waiting area. She had her golden-blonde-tinted hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, making her appear much younger than her forty-eight years of age. She wore a V-necked maroon sweater that was cut extravagantly low for a Friday afternoon shopping excursion, revealing a set of magnificently and lightly-freckled tits. her legs were crossed over her designer jeans, and she had on a pair of open-toed stiletto sandal that illustrated ten toenails painted a bright red, a shade that perfectly matched the lipstick adorned on her lips, which brightened in a smile at the store managers' appearance. On the floor beside her chair was a large green shopping bag, with the green and gold colors and logo of John's department store on the bag.

"Mrs. Olson, what can I do for you today?" John graciously his hand in welcome.

Charlotte bent dramatically over the arm of the chair, facing John, purposely having the dual effect of both revealing almost all of her perfectly shaped tits spilling out of her sweater, but also putting her face at waist-level, no more than a foot from John's belt. She lingered in that position for a few seconds, feigning as if she were fumbling for something within the shopping bag, her eyes boring directly into John's crotch.

She finally stood up, pulling on the bottom of her sweater as she rose, which had pulled upwards to display her tan stomach and a belly button adorned with a large, gleaming diamond stud. John couldn't help but to glance down and notice the pronounced camel toe that was on display between the legs of impossibly tight, designer jeans that Charlotte wore. Madeline watched intently with matronly disapproval of Charlotte's rather blatant display of public exhibitionism, disgusted that a woman approaching fifty would go out in public dressed in that fashion. Meanwhile, one of the young college kids who worked part-time in the credit department down the hall banged loudly into the doorframe of the employee lounge, his gaze and thus his path distracted fully by Charlotte's sweet ass hugged by the skin-tight denim. 

She extended her hand, finger pointing upward, in a condescending manner that would shame Marie Antoinette, the way that rich women who fell into money have of letting the other person know that they are simply TOO important to demean themselves with a conventional handshake.

"Why, hello, Mr. Davis, I hope I'm not disturbing you," Charlotte said, neither waiting for nor expecting a reply. She looked at John with her sky-blue eyes that had undoubtedly been the object of desire of thousands of would-be suitors, yet behind those eyes was a conniving mind that had wrecked a few careers and lives. "I was hoping to convince you to commit to my charity event at my house on Sunday evening. Might I have a few moments of your precious time? In private?"

Again, without waiting for his answer, Charlotte sashayed her way into John's office and seated herself at the one of the same chairs at his conference table where John had watched Maggie insert a shoe heel into her cunt just mere days ago. John shrugged over his shoulder back at Madeline, who playfully brushed her raised palm over her nose in an unspoken 'isn't she the snootiest bitch' gesture. John smiled as he closed the door, and noticed Charlotte was already reaching into her shopping bag even before the door clicked shut.

Charlotte emerged with a tube of lipstick and a tube of body lotion as she loosened her ponytail, causing her long blonde silky hair to cascade freely down her shoulders and onto her cleavage. She started to apply the lipstick while staring directly at John, puckering her full ruby lips and softly, seductively running the tube across them. "I purchased a few things from your cosmetics department, and wanted to try them out. Perhaps you could assist me?"

John fidgeted uncomfortably in front of her, still standing, shuffling his feet from side to side, unwittingly mimicking the inebriated dance of a fan at a crowded football game at halftime, waiting desperately outside of a long line at the port-a-john. "I thought we were here to discuss your, um , event on Sunday, Mrs. Olson?"

"Please, John, let's not be so formal, shall we? Call me Charlotte, I insist." Charlotte snapped the small vial of lipstick shut and dropped it back into her purse. She then fumbled at an attempt to open the jar of body lotion, acting as if the jar was too tight for her to successfully complete the adventure. "Oooh, my, my. I think I need a big, strong man to help me with this." She reached out to hand the jar to him, still impaling him visually with those seductive blue orbs, her eyes running up and down the length of John's tailored suit and crisply starched white shirt.




Maggie May Ch. 06



Trying to be helpful, still not knowing exactly where this path was leading, John reached out for the jar. Charlotte let her fingertips linger on John's palm as he touched the container. "Thank you so much, John, I'd like you to hold onto it after you manage to get it open, please. After all, I am a customer, and I'll require some personalized service."

John unscrewed the lid with an audible 'pop', and remained transfixed. This was the second time this week he was immersed in sexual tension in his office, and he couldn't say that he was becoming comfortable with the feeling yet. Nonetheless, he did as instructed, awaiting Charlotte's next move. He knew he was swimming in waters with quite an unpredictable and potentially dangerous current. He didn't have to wait long.

Charlotte stood up from her chair suddenly, and in one motion, she grabbed the bottom of her tight sweater, yanking it over her head, leaving her standing in front of him wearing a transparent, light pink push-up bra, that clearly exposed her steel-hard nipples and large, pale brown areolas.

John gasped inwardly, valiantly struggling to maintain his composure. Immediately, he felt the all-too-predictable stirring from within his trousers, the below-the-waist vote always vetoing the disdain of the between-the-ears instinct.

Charlotte stood there with her full, pouty lips curled downward. "I don't think your nice ladies in lingerie can take accurate measurements, Mr. Davis, I'd like to file a formal complaint." She reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra straps and stood gloriously naked from the waist up. John felt the beads of sweat forming on his brow, but, again, his cock betrayed him, virtually break-dancing into his zipper. His first thought that this was the most amazing set of tits he'd ever seen on any woman, regardless of age. And they were inches from him. 

Charlotte copiously examined the tags dangling from the bra. "They say this is a 38-D, but it's much too snug for me." She next grabbed both of her luscious breasts in her hands and began to massage them and pinched the erect nipples. "Or, then again, perhaps it's my fault, perhaps I've gotten larger." She took John's free hand and pressed it into the gap between her beautiful mounds. "Oh, dear, I'm so confused. Maybe we just should take some measurements of our own." 

Charlotte again reached down into the shopping bag, her big breasts hanging as if suspended by a freak force of gravity, and this time emerged with a small, 48-inch tape measure. "Let's measure some body parts now, shall we?" 

Charlotte turned around so that her bare back pushed into John's white shirt and her jean-clad butt cheeks eased onto John's trouser-encased cock. She pushed back more tightly and reached back down around her to pull John's own ass so that his hips grinded into her backside. She grinned to herself as she felt the arousal that she had evoked, while simultaneously being impressed with what she felt from beneath John's pants. Maggie wasn't fabricating, Charlotte thought, this was one prime cut of meat.

Without giving time for John to react, Charlotte swiftly turned around and knelt in front of John, expertly pulling at his belt buckle. She was good at this, the cougar thought to herself, this was her favorite part of the chase, the excitement of the first view of the 'catch'. She truly didn't know what she enjoyed more, the first sighting of a large young cock throbbing and pulsing inches for her mouth, or the look in the prey's eyes when she pounced.

In this instance, the former was true. John looked down almost detachedly at Charlotte, still being the obedient retail servant acting out the charade of pleasing his client. If this meant having the customer take him for a test ride, so be it, John thought to himself. He leered at Charlotte in a way that almost, but not quite, discomforted the 'tigress'. With one hand, she yanked his trousers down to his knees, and with the other, the hand that still held the tape measure, she reached up and grabbed the jar of lotion from John's hand.

"Charlotte must really like tapes, of all kinds", he thought to himself.

Charlotte rubbed the entire long length of John's cock through his white briefs, as if taking inventory. With each caress of Charlotte's experienced palm and fingers, John grew and grew in response to her erotic digital administrations. While never taking her eyes from his, she peeled the thin layer of cotton separating her hands from his cock, and his member sprung free, twitching, dancing, angry, purple. "Huge," she thought.

She reached into the jar and began to liberally cup the lotion into her palms. With her hands coated with the cool cream, she continued to stroke John's monster with one hand, while rubbing the lotion onto her world-class tits with the other. To say that this exercise excited John was an understatement, yet he was doing his utmost to not disclose any other emotional demonstration of his arousal to Charlotte, figuring correctly that the unmistakably pulsing cock being massaged by Charlotte's expert hands were confirmation enough. 

His gaze was expressionless as he looked down at her, yet such was the eroticism of the situation that he knew he wouldn't last long until exploding, either.

Charlotte was more than well versed in anticipating a man's pending ejaculation, and she wasn't nearly ready for John to cum just yet. For one thing, she had a measurement to take, and she also felt a need to memorialize the occasion for her own sordid amusement.

She knelt closer to John and momentarily removed her hand from his cock, moving so that both of her hands were now cupping her own massive tits together, creating a virtually perfect destination for john's cock. She resumed her grasp of John's dick, but this time, she pressed it deeply into her cleavage, tit-fucking him furiously now, John desperately trying to stifle his moans so that they could not be heard in the outer office. 

"He's all mine now," Charlotte delightedly thought to herself, noticing that John had closed his eyes and held his head back in torturous ecstasy. She reached for the camera phone concealed in her shopping bag and extracted it. She brought John's own hands to her breasts now, so that he was pulling her tits tightly together, essentially orchestrating the tit-fucking himself. Both of her hands were free. With one, she unraveled the tape, and extended it onto the top of John's cock, now firmly ensconced deeply between her swaying, bouncing tits. His cock felt like an insect caught between windshield wipers on high speed, at the complete mercy of the mammaries. 

John opened his eyes in wonderment at the strange sensation of the tape head stretched on his engorged penis. He was on the verge of cumming now, Charlotte knew, the perfect time to measure a man's full extension. Unbeknownst to John, however, Charlotte was going to get what she came for, and John would not yet be permitted to gush his imminent load of jism. Not yet. Not just yet. Not quite yet. John's face was the brightest of crimson, it took every bit of his self-control to continue to maintain his balls from erupting, as he continued to rock back and forth on Mrs. Olson's fabulous chest.

Charlotte looked down at the 'tale of the tape'. Very impressive, she thought as she peered at the results. She had estimated eight inches, after all, this was not her first rodeo as far as such estimations were concerned. She was bit of a snobby connoisseur when it cam to her cock sizes. She had slightly over-estimated, but by mere centimeters. The tape showed just over seven-and-three quarters inches, and with that, Charlotte reached imperceptibly down to grab her cell phone, just in time to capture John's massive load of semen shooting explosively onto her chest with a swift series of snaps of her finger on the 'go' button, the last with the lens pointed upward to capture John's 'O' face. 

John never saw nor heard the cell phone, his own concentration completely focused on the incredible sensation of his own erupting, seven-and-three quarter-inch mini-volcano. When a man is cumming, Charlotte knew, each and every one of them turned into their own version of Helen Keller, their senses of sight and sound rendered non-existent, overwhelmed by the tactile senses of taste and touch and smell.

Just as quickly as she had invaded John's office, she prepared herself for her departure, mission accomplished for today. With the alacrity and precision of a master thief, and this was a rather poignant analogy, since she had just raided John's jewels, she picked up the phone and deposited it into her bag. 

In swift succession, she placed the tape measure and the lotion in the bag also, scurried to reattach her bra, wiped the thick strands of John's cum deeply into the pores of her skin, scooping the residue into her mouth. She then pulled her sweater over her head, and put the bundle of golden curls back again into a tight ponytail. She did all this while John caught his breath, his pants still bunched around his ankles. He finally gathered his wits and frantically pulled up his pants, realizing Charlotte was making the proverbial beeline for the exit.

He buckled his belt a second or two before Charlotte opened the door, saying loud enough for Madeline to hear, "No need to get up again, John, thank you so much for your service, and we'll see you and your guest Sunday at eight."

Charlotte hastily found the nearest ladies' room stall, her jeans saturated from the liquids streaming from her slit, and finger-fucked her cunt feverishly with one hand while flicking John's still wet cum from her tits with the other, devouring his yummy seed hungrily. She quickly came, her gasps subdued so that other patrons couldn't decipher her orgasmic glee.

She glanced at her Rolex and pulled up her soaked jeans. She soon had an appointment with her newest personal 'trainer'. She hadn't lifted a weight with him yet in two previous sessions. Yet last week she had compensated the young stud dearly to have herself pile-drived in various positions for an hour on her bench press seat in her house gym. All duly video recorded for the archives, of course. An instructional work-out video of sorts, at least in Charlotte's reasoning.

She drove home in her Jaguar, her hot, oozing cunt still dripping, her sweet scent of heightened arousal permeating through the car.

"It's good to be the queen," she smiled to herself.

Game and set to Mrs. Olson. Yet, this was not to be a one-set match by any means. 

Play on.



Maggie May Ch. 07



Please read the earlier chapters of this series to understand the characters. It'll make it much less complicated to see who's being fucked by whom..and who may about to be......

Late Saturday morning......

John had already procured his rental car at the Savannah airport, and was heading north along the country back roads for the hour or so drive to Hilton Head. He eschewed using I-95 in favor of the back roads, the Spanish Moss trees dipping over the roads to provide natural shade, the cotton fields lining the sides of the road for miles. He had allotted extra time for himself, anticipating one air-traffic-related delay or another which always seemed inevitable when flying on U.S. Scare, as the airline was known in Philadelphia, its hub. However, today, miracle of miracles, the flights were right on schedule. He could take his time and soak in the ambiance and beauty of Hilton Head Island for a few hours before his two o'clock appointment with Sarah Olson.

For her part, Sarah was still in front of her full-length bedroom mirror, trying to decide between the flowery off-white sundress that went down almost to mid-calf, or the shorter, sexier, pale pink chiffon dress that rose a few inches above the knee, and exposed her ample chest more than she would usually wear into her office. But, it was Saturday, and even though it was the busiest day for a real estate agent, most agents attired themselves in more casual fashion on Saturdays, especially when the temperature still promised to reach the low 80's with the Low Country's ever present humidity. 

She ultimately decided on pink and short, no bra, and the sheerest of a matching pink thong. She rolled her light brown hair up into a tight bun, and put on her horn-rimmed librarian-like glasses instead of her contacts. Her sparkling green eyes were a bit bloodshot, she hadn't slept well last evening, having an unusually keen intuition that this mysterious visitor coming down from the north was not here only for real estate pursuits. She heard something enticing in his voice, deep, confident, alluring. It excited her.

Her intuition was accurate.

Back in the Philadelphia area, Maggie was already well into her day at the store. Her own wardrobe today was a bit more risque than she had normally allowed herself to wear, but since the intense sexual aerobics with John on Thursday, she had been nearly insatiably horny. Still. She had on a very tight, mid-thigh tan skirt that hugged her hips and ass, and was especially revealing whenever she bent down to help a customer with shoes. Most of the men in the store, mostly husbands grumpily tagging along with their wives, became suddenly very interested in the happenings in the women's shoes department this morning, craning their necks to get an extended peak, and one man even walked directly into a cosmetic display, knocking it noisily to the floor, Estee Lauder products flying everywhere.

Maggie was unable to procure a sitter for her pre-teen daughter for the evening, which meant she should be home no later than eight.

Yet, that hadn't altered her plan, she craved some cock, her new-found sexual appetite ravenous for young, steel-hard dick. She promised herself again that she wouldn't succumb to the temptations of getting fucked tonight. She knew her holes would need to be completely ready fro Sunday evening activities at the "Charlotte Olson Invitational Fuckfest', but dammit, she was going to suck a cock this evening. Some unsuspecting stud would find Happy Hour an apt moniker by seven-thirty or so. She had about ninety minutes from the time she left work until the time she tasted warm cum before departing to play mom.. All the time required, Maggie decided. In the mean time, about every thirty minutes she would find a secluded corner of her stock room, and, assuring herself that no one else was around, she kept pulling the thin fabric of her g-string tighter into her twat, sending small pulsations of self-gratification coursing through her body.

Speaking of self-gratification, Charlotte Olson was still lounging in her master bedroom, one hand holding a vibrator deeply imbedded in her well-used cunt, two fingers of her other hand digitally probing and exploring her own rectum, a remote control for the DVD player lying next to her. She was watching the recording of her savage anal pounding by her personal trainer yesterday afternoon in her gym room, matching her numerous electronically-recorded orgasms from yesterday with real-life self-induced orgasms this morning. Charlotte needed no such respite from sexual exercise prior to tomorrow's private party with John and Maggie. In fact, she had a basketball game to attend tonight, and it was her intent to play 'jump ball' with that yummy seven-foot-tall rookie power forward after the game.

John had enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the Salty Dog cafe, flirting with the overly attentive, tall, dark-haired Latina waitress in her tight little white miniskirt who gave him her number in case he was free that evening. "Hey," he told her while leaving a generous tip. "Ya never know." He hadn't yet made a hotel reservation, because depending on how the meeting went with Sarah, he hadn't yet ruled out driving back to Savannah and lodging there for the evening before catching his flight back tomorrow. River Street in Savannah was not the worst place to spend a Saturday evening when by yourself. Yet, fate had other plans for him.

He entered the cozy real estate office of Low Country Realty at two p.m. sharp, and the only person he saw in the outer office was a very shapely young lady of perhaps in her early twenties resembling a younger Jennifer Love Hewitt in a tastefully revealing pink dress, her hair up in bun, tugging at the glasses on her nose. She looked up and let her gaze linger up and down this visitor for a few seconds longer than she needed to. Khaki shorts, navy blue Polo shirt, jet black hair. Green or hazel eyes, she wondered, hmmm.

"Oh, my, CUTE!", she thought to herself, her face flushing instantly, which did not go unnoticed by the customer. She smiled widely at the young man, and asked cordially, "How may I help you?"

Only one word came to John's mind as he took in the vision of innocent, fresh, nubile loveliness in front of him. "Wow!" There was that word again. Sarah was a spitting image of her mom facially, but more petite, more slender, and even more naturally pretty, not a hint of make-up adorned on her cover-model-like face. She exuded a clean, athletic sexiness, and her body was honed from her days as a field hockey player and track star at Coastal Carolina College. She did not have her mother's voluptuous boobs (and John should know since his own cock was buried between her mother's huge tits less than twenty-four hours before), but they were perfectly proportioned, and protruded perkily within the shoulder straps of her tastefully daring summer dress.

He composed himself, feeling his own face flush. "Yes, I have an appointment with Sarah Olson. I'm John Davis from Philadelphia."

She rose from her chair, the tight dress rising up to above mid-thigh, and she was pleased that Mr. Davis was taking visual inventory. She took off her glasses, and extended her hand to shake in welcome, but not in the Marie Antoinette-like manner utilized by her haughty mother. "Well, you've found her, Mr. Davis. Welcome to Hilton Head Island." The instant mutual chemistry was palpable as the pair shook hands warmly, each reluctant to let go of the grasp of the other. Sarah finally let go. "So, are we ready to go explore? I've freed my calendar for as long as you need me today" 

"And tonight, too, and the morning, and the rest of my life," Sarah thought to herself. She looked deeply into John's eyes, they were light green, cat-like, almost the hue of her own fetching eyes. "Well, I guess our children will have green eyes, too," she daydreamed, smiling unwittingly.

John caught her grin. "Is something humorous, Miss Olson? It IS Miss, isn't it?"

Sarah regrouped quickly, it was so uncharacteristic her to gush, and after all, this WAS a business meeting. 

Wasn't it? 

She continued to blush, though. "I'm sorry, and please, it IS miss, but call me Sarah. And, no, forgive me, nothing is funny, Mr. Davis. I'm just glad I have the pleasure of escorting you today, and hope I can interest you in a few options."

You already have, believe me, John thought to himself. "I'm John, Sarah. Now that the formalities are out of the way, may I tell you what I'm really interested in?" He glanced around the office. "I hate to ask this, but are we alone? Some of my, um, subject matters, are rather confidential."

He looked intently at Sarah. "For both of us. And I need your help. I'm not here on real estate matters, truthfully."

Sarah's curiosity was instantly peaked at this revelation. Her intuition was spot-on. And, despite the anxiety and trepidation that she suddenly felt, she was betrayed by a warm gush of liquid now flowing freely from her pussy and coating her lacy thong. Her bra-less nipples clung to the chiffon material of her dress, aching for release. She sensed mystery, she sensed danger. 

She sensed sex.

They sat in a small corner conference room in Sarah's office, and for the next half-hour, John talked while Sarah listened, sometimes mortified, sometimes enraged, sometimes confused, sometimes inquisitive, something unbelieving, the myriad of emotions flooding in and out of her like a tsunami. John prefaced his remarks by assuring Sarah that what he was about to tell her was not intended to be malicious or embarrassing, and he implored her that if she helped him with his plan, she would then see that justice would be served.

It sounded a bit corny on the surface, but the passion and sincerity and earnestness with which John delivered his tale did indeed convince Sarah ultimately that it was the right thing to do to participate. Plus, she reasoned, it would be a way of extracting a not-so-small measure of revenge against her mother, the evil witch who had essentially shamed Sarah out of any chance of ever again living a normal family life.

Sarah was somewhat amazed at the level of detail of events that had transpired at her parents' divorce trial, events that had long been bought with hush money into sworn secrecy. John indeed had a good and knowledgeable source of the levels of extortion involved by all the disgusting parties. 

The trial, and its aftermath, had left Sarah with a father who was now in self-imposed exile in Central America, a broken man, and a mother whose moral fiber and publicly phony facade turned her stomach. This plan did seem like it had potential to give her mother her much-needed comeuppance, and Sarah's first instinct was to dive in with both feet. It didn't hurt John's cause that while she listened to his story, she had to struggle to keep her mind from wandering what this handsome, intelligent, and determined young man would feel like pumping into her deepest tunnels. Despite herself, she was drenched, nearly sticking to her seat. It had been awhile since a man has attracted her quite so much.

What she didn't tell John, at least not for the time being, was that she could personally substantiate John's belief that her mother's local villa was not only wired for surveillance, but somewhere within the house untold graphic and compromising tapes were stored. Sarah still had the keys to her mother's hideaway, and had stumbled upon some tapes in a dresser drawer a few months back when she had to make a rare visit to her mother's house to look for some routine deed documents. Sarah decided that she wouldn't reveal the identities of the people who were on the one tape that she viewed, not just yet. Until Sarah knew more. 

John leaned back in his chair, visibly fatigued from the energy that he had poured into his plea for Sarah's assistance. He was the only one who could make this plan work, they both knew, and he was almost exclusively reliant upon her help. He smiled at her, wearily, charmingly, and clasped his palms together in a prayer-like pose. "That's my confession, Sister Sarah, that's all I got. So, will you be my guardian angel?"

It was all Sarah could do to not to break into laughter and leap over the table and jump his bones. He was pretty irresistible, and believable. Yet, she went through the motions of still being reticent. She drummed her slender fingers on the table and eyed John with a raised eyebrow. She first asked one of the two questions that most peaked her curiosity.

"I'm not much of a detective, sir, but might I deduce from this saga that you and Mrs. Cox have been playing horizontal hockey?"

John looked into Sarah's eyes, two pairs of sparkling green eyes locked in a mutual stare that contained a lot of sexual tension, tempered with desire that they hoped they could each trust the other. He decided to be succinct and direct.

"Yes, once."

Good for Mrs. Cox, Sarah thought to herself. First she rolls around with this bouncer Sean for a few days, and then she latches onto this hunk John. Who would have thought that classy Mrs. Cox would be reeling in such steady young cock? Yet, Sarah knew of the tape that she had seen, and who was in it, and this mangled jigsaw puzzle of carnal 'who's who' was beginning to take some shape in Sarah's mind. Mrs. Cox's biggest mistake was getting involved with my mother, Sarah thought.

John sat wiggling a bit in his chair and patiently waited for Sarah to absorb all of this information. Sarah sat there nodding, contemplating his response and the ramifications that her next question may evoke. She watched John's body language closely as she uttered the next inquiry. His answer was the key to whether she would participate in this plan.

"John, have you fucked my mother?"

If there was a polygraph attached to John's skin, he probably would have passed, because technically the answer he was about to give was truthful. Yet his body language betrayed him. He blushed, squirmed, fidgeted, raised his palms pleadingly, and finally looked Sarah in the eye and again simply said, "No."

Sarah gazed at him disbelievingly. "I'll ask you again." She stared daggers into him, waiting for his revised answer. If his answer was actually true, he had to be one of the few young studs in Philly that his mom hadn't yet caught in her web. Charlotte's web.

"Sarah, I haven't, really, I swear." Her brow lightened a little, it was apparent that John either wasn't a very good liar or a good actor. He reached over to hold her hand, a move that endeared him to Sarah instantly, and convinced her she would go along with his request. "Look, she's, uh, well, you know how she is, she's kinda made it known that she may, uh, like to, but I haven't, uh." He stopped, not wishing to ramble on, hoping that Sarah would recognize the sincerity. Sarah didn't have to know everything, but the fact of the matter was that he could indeed answer with the truth. 

He looked at her and smiled bashfully, child-like, seeking forgiveness and acceptance. "The answer is no, Sarah, I have not. She may have wanted me to, and I, uh, I admit that I've thought about it, but, no, I haven't." He got down on his knees in a playful attempt to lighten the tension. "I throw myself on the mercy of the beautiful judge, your honor. I rest my case."

Sarah took a paperweight from the table top and slammed it down on the table, imitating a judge swinging her gavel. "Will the defendant please rise."

John stood smiled and thought to himself, "I've been up ever since I first saw you, Judge". He decided that this wouldn't help him at this point, however, so he did something he wasn't necessarily prone to do. He shut up.

Sarah rose from the table herself, and gain John could not help but to divert his gaze down to her shapely muscular calves and thighs as she stood. Sarah again smiled inwardly, secretly hoping that she would be the first woman in the Olson family to have John, all of him, she admitted to herself that she wanted this man, it had been far too long since Sarah met someone who attracted her so much. But first things first, there was a plan to enact. 

"The court rules to continue this case pending the discovery of further evidence. The court will act upon the defendant's request and visit the scene of the alleged, um, crimes, so to speak, and we will reconvene in two hours. In the mean time, does the defendant have a place to stay?"

John confessed that he hadn't confirmed any lodging accommodations as of yet. Sarah gave him the keys to a condo that overlooked Calibogue Sound, and insisted he spend the next few hours there while Sarah did her due diligence. John resisted initially, but Sarah explained that the owners were personal friends of hers who only spent a few weeks a year at the beautiful condo, and she basically had carte-blanche to use the condo for herself anytime she desired. Today, she desired. So, John gratefully accepted, took the directions from Sarah, and they agreed to meet at the condo later that afternoon. 

Sarah instructed John that it would not be wise for him to be sen at her mother's house, lest he possibly be caught on tape, so she needed to act alone on her tape-hunting excursion. She felt like a secret agent, and that excited tremendously her, she determined that must be the reason her thong was so damn drenched. Yes, that had to be it.

What she found when she returned to meet John with the evidence was more than John had ever expected. The plot thickened.

For all of Charlotte Olson's deceit and cunning, her filing system for sex-tape storage wasn't exactly state-of-the-art-double-top-secret-coding. Sarah quickly found not only the tape that she had stumbled upon previously, the one marked "Meredith and the Doc, 7/09", but also a new one marked "Maggie and Sean, 9/09". There were several more, but they not only seemed to be irrelevant for the moment, but their existence almost nauseated Sarah. Not only was her mother a slut, she was an extorting slut. Sarah was so glad that she had made the decision not to return to Philadelphia after graduation, not in the wake of the family ruins. Times may be a bit tough living on her own, but no one knew her or the family past down here, and that was the way she liked it.

She got in her car to drive back to the condo where John awaited. Not too long after she began driving, her cell phone rang. She fully expected it to be a client, after all, Saturdays were usually fairly hectic in real estate. Instead, she recognized the number on the dispaly screen to be that of her current roommate, Rossi, a tall, gorgeous, long-legged Peruvian girl who had also been her roommate in college, and teammate on the track team. Rossi, short for Rosalinda, was working currently as a waitress at the Salty Dog cafe in the day, and had been recently hired at the brand new gentleman's club at Sea Pines Circle. Yep, there was no soft-soaping it, Sarah thought to herself as she picked up the phone. Her roomie was a stripper, and reeling in boatloads of cash already.

"Hi, honey," Sarah said into the mouthpiece. "How's your day going, Mae West?" it was Sarah's new nickname for her closest friend, a mocking tribute to her new nocturnal profession.

"OMG!"

Rossi breathlessly yelled into Sarah's ear, as she pulled the phone away slightly to ease the decibel level. "I am SUCH a slut, I met the dreamiest guy today, I gave him my number, and I can't stop thinking about him. In fact, I had to go into the ladies room on my break and have some self-fun, I am so hot for him. But, I'll never see him again, probably, and I even gave him my number, something I NEVER do. Just my luck. Another night with my roomie and a rented movie, you remember I'm off tonight, right? We were going to go to that new seafood restaurant and then watch that DVD, just a chill night, dear, cool?"




Maggie May Ch. 07



Sarah giggled at her friend's normal dramatic exuberance. For all of Rossi's beauty, she could have virtually any man she wanted, but she rarely found one sponge-worthy, as the two roomies liked to say. So, this guy must have been something. Could it be?

Sarah tried to pop her friend's balloon. "A finger-fest in the bathroom at break? You ARE such a slut, girl. So, tell me, just what did Prince Charming look like?" It couldn't be, could it?

Rossi sighed into Sarah's ear. "There was just SOMETHING about him, I don't know, he was just cute, and nice, and preppy-looking, but strong, a great smile. I don't know why, but he just DID it to me. Oh, well, que sara, sara." Sarah wondered what were the odds as Rossi continued, "But, enough about my day, girl, how is YOUR day going? Are you still in that meeting with Mr. Mystery from Philly, the one you told me about last night?"

Sarah inhaled, catching her breath. "Rossi, just what did Mr. Perfect look like? Did he by chance have on a blue Polo and a pair of khakis with a nice bulge, about five-eleven, big green eyes, killer smile?"

Rossi was silent momentarily. "Were you spying on me? Did you set me up? I'll have to hurt you if you're teasing me, girlie."

So it was him, Sarah thought, unless this guy has a twin. Unbelievable. "Rossi, what would you say if I told you that I am going to find and invite your dream crush to join us this evening?" She then told Rossi the rather incredible but fortuitous coincidence, and they quickly devised their own plan for the evening. This plan was a lot less devious, more straightforward, and immensely pleasurable if all worked out the way the two roomies hoped. It was something they had long discussed but had never found the right guy. Until now. Their first threesome. 

Each young woman on the end of the respective phone lines were saturated with arousal before they ended their call. Sarah gave Rossi John's cell phone number, but instructed her not to call John until about six p.m. "In the mean time, Rossi, would you mind terribly if I took our guy on a little test drive first, if you know what I mean?" 

Rossi giggled huskily, "Mmm, by all means, but two things. Tell me all about it when your drive is done so I know what awaits me, and two, save some of him for me, promise?" 

There were quite a few plans developing on Hilton Head Island this today, Sarah now firmly enveloped in each one. This was turning out to be quite a day.

After she returned to the condo where she had 'sequestered' John, they briefly watched the two tapes together. Both John and Sarah tried their best not to show it, but it was impossible not to get aroused watching the few minutes of excerpts as Maggie alternately sucked and rode the cock of a young man who appeared to be a body-builder. 

Sarah took the tape out, her face flushed, and flipped it to John. "This is for your cougar girlfriend, I guess, I can see you found an older broad who knows what she's doing. I admit that was hot. Whew." Sarah fanned her hands near her face in a gesture of cooling off. John tried unsuccessfully to rearrange his raging cockhead, nearly peeking out of his pant leg, a small spot of pre-cum staining near the zipper. Sarah noticed. She liked. She dripped herself. 

"Now, before I pop this next one in, I must warn you. My mom is in it, so I don't want to really watch for very long, I'm sure you can understand that." John nodded vehemently in affirmation, as Sarah continued loading tape number two. "But before I do so, the judge has another question. Have you ever seen Maggie's husband, Dr. Cox?"

John furrowed his brow. "Don't think I ever have, don't really want to. Why?"

Sarah wrinkled her nose in obvious disgust. "Well, he's one of the co-stars of this next feature presentation." John's face contorted in shock.

"With my mother." This did not necessarily surprise John, he had begun to piece the dominos together. But her next words brought the shock back to his face.

"With a third woman, who appears to be about my age. Do you know who Meredith is?"

John nodded his head, his mind reeling from the barrage of informational shrapnel pummeling his sense of logic. "I know of her, Maggie told me she was fucking her hubby."

Maggie and a bouncer, he knew about it, no surprise there. But Charlotte and Maggie's husband? And this Meredith, Dr. Cox's assistant, on tape? In Hilton Head? Was this some kind of x-rated reality show he'd stumbled upon? What the fuck?

He looked at Sarah who held the remote, about to hit 'play'. He asked tentatively, "How graphic is it?"

Sarah clucked her tongue. "We can almost see what poor Meredith had for breakfast, they have her spread so far apart. We won't watch too long."

They didn't have to. Jon didn't know squat about Dr. Cox, but he surmised that he must have an affinity for big-titted women as his preferred choices for his extra-curricular activities, because if anything, Meredith was bustier than Mrs. Olson's 38D's (again, John knew first-hand from yesterday's experience), and that was saying something. She was lifted up and down on Dr. Cox's less than impressive cock, impaling Meredith's asshole, as Charlotte Olson savagely rammed what looked like a 10-inch dildo repeatedly into Meredith's twat while sucking on her huge, firm, bouncing tits. The look on Meredith's face was anything but pleasurable or blissful. Instead, she looked like she was going to cry out in a mixture of torment and pain. She cried out, "no, stop, no, it's hurting me, don't, please, don't , stop, no."

The tape contained Charlotte's next leering words. "See, she's saying 'don't stop', Jack, I told you so, she's loving it."

Sarah turned off the tape and turned her head away in shame, tears running down her cheek. God, she despised her mother, what an evil cunt. "How did I come from her womb?", she wondered. She ran out onto the balcony, sobbing gently.

John stared at the blank screen. "Sadistic," he thought. "Sick. My God." 

He put the tapes in his travel bag, though, these would be more than useful for the second phase of the plan. This game and set of the match had been won, but the match was far from over, and the wounds that had been afflicted were potentially very damaging. 

This was more than they bargained for, but he was already scheming on how this could be used against Mrs. Olson, but he had to tread very carefully, very prudently. He was now playing Charlotte's own game, and she was a master at it. With this newly-added bonus of Dr. Cox as a co-conspirator, John also wondered how he would present this news to Maggie, but he had all of tomorrow's travel day to ponder that. He sat there dazed on the couch for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts, while giving Sarah time and space to compose herself. 

He got up after a few minutes, and Sarah became aware of his presence on the balcony a few feet behind her, but she never turned around, she continued to look out at the sunset falling over scenic Calibogue Sound.

"Are you OK, Sarah?"

She bravely brushed away a tear, determined not to let her hurt be seen. She had long shoveled away the pain and humiliation her mother had caused her psyche,and this latest searing wound was not going to crush her again. She tried to put on a happy face, but still didn't turn to face John. "Beautiful view", she said over her shoulder.

The sun setting in silhouette in front of Sarah caused her dress to become virtually transparent in the fading sunlight. from his vantage point, he could see right through the thin chiffon material, her legs parted so that he could see her lovely ass covered only by the faintest of a sheer pink string. He couldn't resist, he moved up behind her so that his hips ground into her butt. 

"Yes, it is, I've been admiring it all day. And it has nothing to do with this balcony view." She felt his desire. He reached around and gently lifted the front of her dress, his fingers lingering over her inner thighs. He felt hers. He kissed the nape of her neck tenderly, and she melted into his arms, bringing her hands to the back of his head, pulling it towards her own mouth in a hot, warm, hungry kiss.

She released her mouth from his reluctantly, still not turning around, but taking his hands and pulling them to her chest, caressing her nipples together through the fabric.

"I'm not much on videotaping, but we all have our fantasies, right?" John murmured his agreement as he continued to glide his lips into her neck and shoulders, inhaling the sweet aroma of her scent, her clean skin, her silky hair.

"One of the reasons I like this view so much is that I've always fantasized about making love right here." She pulled up her dress higher and reached around to feel John's excitement, lowering his zipper and pulling out his engorged head, stroking it with her tender, soft palms.

He got the message, and felt under Sarah's dress and pulled the almost invisible string to one side, exposing her steaming pussy to the cool air. "Right now?", he asked, his cock easing teasingly, slowly into the warm fold of Sarah's generous labia. She bent over the railing, lifting her ass higher as a willing, wanting target for what she had been longing for all day.

She moaned, guiding him inside of her, the sailboats below, the seagulls squawking above, all far away as their bodies became one. She felt her body shudder as his manhood slid into her heat. She came.

"Yes," she groaned, her cunt muscles grabbing his big cock hard within her, his balls bouncing against her tight ass, her now exposed tits hanging over the rail for all to see. 

"Right now."

To be continued.