Maggie

byParis Waterman©

Chapter 1. "Me?"

"Hey, I'm just a 28 year old guy, you know, didn't have a girlfriend, hadn't had a girl in Gods knows how long well, 8 months if you hafta know just pretending it didn't matter; that football and basketball on the TV were the most important things in life. Putting on a good front, ya know?"

"Well, it seems some of my closer friends did know. They cared enough to try to do something about it. Of course I didn't know it at the time. In fact, it was quite a while before it dawned on me that I'd been set up for this. They made it appear that I was needed, plying me with a couple drinks to loosen me up as it were."

"'Say When' Gwen managed to convince me. Her earnest sincerity was impossible to ignore. 'Brief' Bernie helped me dress for the occasion. Actually he handed me my clothes. I put them on, no help required. Bernie wasn't my manservant. Nor was Gwen my maid."

"'Say When' came by her nickname honestly enough. Ten years earlier, Charlie Mitchell had her pants around her ankles in the back seat of his father's Lincoln. Thing was, Charlie couldn't find Gwen's pussy. He was poking and pushing until finally, you got it, he told Gwen to say when he was close. It was a giggling Gwen, with three or four martinis in her, who told the story on herself that got the nickname started. It never seemed to bother her, so I figure she must have liked the tag."

"'Brief' Bernie's nickname is easily understood. His premature ejaculation at the high school prom prompted his date, one Gladys Dirking to tell all her girlfriends. Bernie claims she was blabbing to them before he'd put it back in his pants."

"Anyway, I pushed his hands away, telling both of them emphatically that I was fully capable of dressing myself. As I slipped into my suit jacket Gwen got in my face, straightening my tie, and saying: "She needs to get out. Maybe you do too," "I don't know about you, really, but she definitely needs to get out."

Brushing imaginary lint from my lapel, she continued as though talking to herself, "It's Friday - date night, the girl has to get out and you've got to help us boost her ego back up after a devastating romance gone wrong.

And so there I was an hour later, after climbing four flights of narrow stairs in a narrow, brownstone on 44th Street knocking on Apartment 4B and trying to catch my breath. I heard her footsteps coming to the door. Gwen had told me she was good looking, but I wasn't prepared for the strikingly beautiful girl who opened the door, put her hand out and with a nervous smile said, "Hello, I'm Maggie. You're kind of late aren't you, for a first date and all."

I stammered out a profuse apology, "I... I... I almost didn't make it at all... my friends, my so-called friends... they kept delaying me. I think on purpose, so you'd be mad at me. I'm terribly sorry about being late," I ended lamely.

She kept staring at me and I went with the truth and babbled, "And I... I'm not... I mean, I wasn't prepared to meet someone as breathtakingly beautiful as you."

I was on the road to recovering my poise. She broke off the eye contact and glanced down at her hands.

"Well," she said, "you're off to a pretty good start now that you're here," her renewed smile was still nervous.

I still have a vivid memory of that first impression of her. Her shoulder length, champagne-colored hair was combed straight back above a smoothly rounded forehead in sort of a lion's-mane effect. She had high prominent cheekbones that slanted her eyes just the tiniest bit. But beneath the short, straight nostril-flaring nose, her mouth loomed out at me; it was her most attractive feature. Wide enough that it seemed to go all the way across her face although it didn't, and the full, sweet upper lip was so unusually short that it appeared unable to cover a perfect set of prominent upper teeth. Below the long, full lower lip was a tiny cute jaw and chin that further accentuated the mouth. And when she smiled, even nervously as she did now, the entire room seemed to light up. I would learn later that Maggie was embarrassed about her mouth and considered her Italian nose her best feature. Ahhh, but apart from her face, her figure was enough to drive men (and women) crazy with desire.

I don't know if I can adequately describe her body in words. There was something about her shoulders, which were unusually wide and square, and formed a long line that tapered down from them to her waist, only to flare out into a pair of high-assed hips. And above all this rode the slender neck and high small head of a goddess.

Actually, she needed the wide shoulders to support the big full globes of her breasts thrusting out in the tight black dinner dress. Her calves were perfect, her ankles strong and delicate. In the tight dress there was just a suggestion of her mons if you saw her just right. In heels she was just a hair shorter than I, standing straight, carrying herself high off her hips, the slender neck extended to carry the small head, in the manner of a Jamaican woman carrying a market basket on her head. This girl was the most beautiful woman I had ever met.

We made some small talk and then left to go out on the town. In the cab, glancing at her sideways, as she nestled down into the collar of her coat, I realized with a start that I had never been so proud to be seen in public with a woman. Hell, I'd never been with a woman this beautiful before. Silently I thanked the dating gods that I hadn't gotten tongue-tied. I thought that this was going to be one of the greatest nights of my life.

Man, was I wrong.

Oh, it started out well enough. We went to the Village Vanguard for dinner and the show. After a few drinks Maggie loosened up and lost her nervousness and began to display a really penetrating wit and humor along with a sexy charm. She was an incorrigible flirt. But then, she was stunningly beautiful, so sexually attractive that tables buzzed as heads turned towards her to gawk.

"Who was she?"

"What movie did I see her in?"

"Who was she married too?"

I became a problem. As Maggie loosened up after a few drinks, I began to fade. The drinks with my 'buddies' earlier started to take a toll. If Maggie was a little drunk, I was wiped out. I made my pitch for her right there in the lounge following dinner. I think I told her I wanted her to come to my apartment with me because I wanted to make violent love to her. I recall my astonishment when she told me no.

"Why not?" I blurted out, loud enough for everyone at the bar to hear. "What's wrong with me?"

Maggie had a hurt, embarrassed but determined expression on her face. "How do I know what's wrong with you? I don't even know you yet." She shook her pretty head and said flatly, "I never lay men the first date I have with them anyway."

I managed to sputter something like, "That's ridiculous!" in protest. During dinner she had been quite open about the number of men she had had in her life. "More than thirty," she'd said proudly.

"Maybe," she replied, looking embarrassed and stubborn, "but I don't care. I don't have to and I won't." Her eyes softened a little. "Anyway, you're getting pretty drunk."

Then I guess I lost it. After all, I'd only had four women in my life at that point and I wasn't sure about two of them.

"Thas my goddamn friends! And... and because I'm shy."

Maggie blushed, "People are staring at us."

"Fuck 'em!" I shouted. "Son's of bitches! What do they know about loneliness?"

"What do you know about it?" Maggie asked sharply.

"I think you're nothing but a..." I started, but couldn't bring myself to finish and switched to a less abusive tone. "I hate cockteasers." I muttered.

"And I think you're a shit!" Maggie said. "No girl would fuck a man with such a rude, crude approach as yours!"

And that was the way our first date ended.

Oh, I took her home all right. It was around four in the morning and a light snow was falling as we walked towards Maggie's place. I began kicking over wastepaper baskets as we walked because I was furious, frustrated and pissed at myself because I'd never see Maggie again.

"You're liable to get arrested for that." She warned me nervously.

"Yeah? Well I hope I do! I hope I do!" I muttered and kicked another one over. At her door she shook hands with me.

"Not only are you not a gentleman," she said in a whisper, I really think you're kind of crazy."

"You think so huh," I said. And for one clear, agonizing moment that would forever stay burned into my brain I stared at her. From beyond my alcoholic haze I tried to put into my eyes everything I felt about her and about myself. I thought I saw that her eyes understood. But she was very mad at me.

I turned and walked away. Sulking, I recall thinking, "she's no goddamn virgin, and she wouldn't even let me feel her tits."

I woke up on the floor of my apartment the next morning. I was nude. Drawing small satisfaction that I'd made my way home and managed to undress myself I put a pot of coffee on to perk and took a long shower. It was 8:30 when I took my first sip of coffee and then inhaled on my first cigarette of the day. Then after hacking hard to get the cigarettes and whiskey huskiness out of my voice, I dialed Maggie's number.

Chapter 2. Some time later that afternoon, Maggie told me that it was the huskiness in my voice that got to her. It was the only reason she didn't hang up on me immediately. She claimed it was so sexy and exciting that it startled and intrigued her into listening and before we were finished she was masturbating furiously to a climax. (Because of this, as our relationship blossomed, I would use phone sex to bridge any distance that separated us.)

But I'm running ahead of myself. After the euphoric shock of Maggie's agreeing to see me that afternoon, I felt obliged to call Gwen and Bernie.

It went as expected. "I can't believe you acted that way!"

"Well you two got me plastered before the date for God's sake!" I said defensively.

"Don't blame us," Bernie whined. "We got you two together..."

"And she was open with you, telling you all about the men in her life." Gwen said righteously.

"My God," I roared at them, "I didn't expect a body count. And, and, and when I got one, Jesus, what was I supposed to think? That her legs weren't open for business just then?"

Gwen shot me a look of pure disdain. Silence reigned.

Bernie cut through the icy air, "So where did you guys leave off?"

"I called her this morning and groveled appropriately."

Gwen asked, "Did she hang up on you?"

"No."

Both Gwen and Bernie asked the next question simultaneously.

"What happened?"

I grinned at them. "We have a date sort of, this afternoon."

"You Bastard!" Gwen said, then hugged me tightly. Maybe a little longer than most hugs, and I got to enjoy the buoyancy of her ample breasts. A rare treat from Gwen, who'd had me on a no touchee, no feelie policy since high school. While our hug was going on, Bernie pounded on my back, saying, "You son of a bitch, you sure fooled us, let's have a drink!"

"Thank you, but no thanks Bernie. I want to get off to a good start today."

"You want to get off period," Gwen teased.

"Right. I want my name added to her pelts. My God Gwen, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever been out with. I can't believe she's agreed to meet with me after last night."

Bernie looked at Gwen, but spoke to me. "Women can surprise the hell out of you sometimes."

To which Gwen added, "It's our job to keep you guys off balance."

"Well, Maggie floored me when she invited me over today."

"Someone's gonna get laid later." Bernie crooned repeatedly.

"Right," said Gwen, "and it won't be you Bernie." Then she pointed her long nailed finger at me and said, "Get out of here. Go home, make yourself presentable and I hope you boff each other's brains in."

Chapter 3. "That was my bad luck," Maggie purred, with a Cheshire grin splitting her lipstick smeared red lips.

She ran one hand lightly across my belly and then slithered down into my crotch, kissing me in the center of my chest.

Oh! I've gotten ahead of myself again. Do you care? I mean this is one of the good parts. At least I think so. So unless there's unanimous agreement otherwise, we'll dispense with our glib conversation at the door and while having a cocktail and even with the part where we tore our clothes off rushing into her bedroom.

"My good luck!" I countered, and trapped her hand where it was with my own so she couldn't remove it, or stop what she was doing.

"And it turns out it was only cigarettes and whiskey," she smiled.

As time went on I learned that she didn't do things like that, grabbing me like that I mean. Usually, she waited to be stimulated and then played upon like an instrument. Whatever, I had never had sex like this in my entire life.

Perhaps I should fill in the missing parts someone out there might have a real need to know what happened. For those of you who don't care, go fetch a box of tissues, you're gonna need 'em.

It hadn't been much of a phone conversation really. I apologized for my conduct the night before, Maggie told me I ought to, but I noted that she had not verbally accepted it. I was kind of awkward for a moment or two and then I suggested that I come over and apologize in person.

"Thanks!" Maggie said sharply, and then softened the tone of her voice. "Oh, that doesn't matter," her voice changed, it was now a lovely low voice, charged with sexuality. "Come on over, I'm not really doing anything."

She met me at the door and said, "I was still in bed when you called." And once again I was swept away by her beauty. She was wearing a tight fuzzy white sweater over those magnificent tits and tight brown slacks that molded into the crack in her ass all the way up. It was almost impossible to take my eyes off that incredible high-hipped ass or those tits. Half the time I didn't know what I was saying, but it seemed to be working.

Her warm, rich voice was like a kiss in my ear. We went out for burgers and shakes and returned to Maggie's apartment around three. It always seemed to me afterwards that our two naked bodies met in the center of the room with a smack like the clap of two large hands, but I knew that couldn't be true. She had had her clothes on, I was sure. And I was certainly dressed, coming in from the outside as we had. So there must have been some conversation, if only to fill the time required getting our clothes off. But I don't remember any of it.

The most enduring image I have of that first day is of myself lying on the living room couch with Maggie astride me and kneeling over my face as my tongue devoured her, offering me free advice.

"Yes, yes, oh I love it when you squeeze my ass cheeks together like that!"

"Oh, suck it baby! Yes! Just like that!"

"Ah! Put your finger there... yes, there baby. Oh, God! Push it in deeper!"

"Oh baby, yes!"

"Ohhh, your tongue your tongue and your finger both inside me... matching strokes, ohhh, baby, I think I'm gonna..."

And then Maggie, drooping like a falling flower, champagne hair falling over her face almost to those gorgeous breasts as she cried out before collapsing upon me.

It turned out that for some reason the only way Maggie could achieve a real orgasm was when I went down on her. Fortunately for the two of us, I love eating pussy. I don't mean Maggie disliked fucking. Oh, no. She loved to fuck. In fact she told me so moments after I entered her for the first time.

"Yes, yes, yes baby pull on my nipples with your teeth. Yeah, just like that!"

"Do ya like it when I squeeze your balls like this?"

(For the record, I answered in the affirmative.)

"Baby, my sweet baby, I can see that look in your eyes; I can feel you pumping me harder

and harder. Ahhhhhh, I love this kind of fucking!"

"Look down baby," she whispered huskily in my ear, while lavishing wet licks to it.

"Watch as your cock slides deep into my pussy and then look and see how wet and shiny it is when you pull back. Isn't it disgusting?"

I fucked faster.

""Would you find it revolting if someone wanted to take that disgustingly slimy dick and put it in their mouth?"

I came a ton.

Chapter 4. The knock came when we were eating (food) in the nude.

"Wait a minute," Maggie hollered, and grabbed a robe and in almost the same motion threw another robe at me. "He was smaller than you but it should fit," she said as she made to open the door.

"Oh, ho!" Her roommate Leslie said as she entered. Placing her packages on the counter, she grimaced and held her nose. "My God, this place smells like a zoo!"

"Go to hell!" Maggie said laughing. Then she turned slowly, and with a beatific smile on her face, stretched her arms as far as she could.

"Hmmm," Leslie grinned, "I take it you two have been humping like rabbits while I'm slaving away at the office."

She threw off her coat and slumped in the one large easy chair. "Well, it's not unexpected after the way she talked about you last night."

"He's built like a Greek God," Maggie reported.

"Oh?" said Leslie.

"You'd never know it to see him dressed. I've got to get him some decent clothes."

"Hey," I said indignantly, "I'm still in the room."

"Yeah," said Leslie, "big deal. I'm inclined to agree with you Maggie. Drag him down along Fifth Avenue and get him fixed."

"Absolutely," said Maggie.

"You think so, huh?" I said smiling.

I had hated seeing Maggie put that robe on and cover up that lush body. She was even more beautiful without them on. Her heavy, beautiful drooping breasts; the long lean line from her armpit to those widely swelling hips, and the high rounded ass. Not a bit of fat except perhaps that delicious belly which wasn't fat so much as the way she was constructed just above the triangular bush hovering around her cunt. Even now, after all those years, it was the most flexible female body I'd ever come in contact with. For example, Maggie could actually put both feet behind her head at the same time if she wanted to.

Eventually, it was decided by the girls that I would take them to dinner and I did. Leslie waited until we started our first glass of wine before they began to initiate me. Yes, I said initiate, as in to admit as a member into a fraternity, through the use of special rites.

"So," Leslie said. "How many times did you two do it?"

"Only twice," Maggie said nonchalantly.

I swallowed hard, and then gulped my wine down, draining the glass.

Leslie picked up the bottle and poured me another. "Only twice?"

"Well," Maggie replied, "we were interrupted by a certain slut and..."

"Never mind the personal attack, darling, what I want to know... what I need to know is just how well hung is he?"

"Hey," I blurted, "this is just like before. You two talking about me as if I'm not even here."

"But you are here, darling," Leslie smiled and placed her hand on my knee. "And if you insist I'll talk directly to you."

I was almost mollified by this, but Leslie continued and I saw the Cheshire grin appear on Maggie's lovely countenance once more.

"Well, just how big is that dick of yours?" With that she squeezed my thigh. Instant erection resulted.

"I hadn't blushed in years, but I was blushing now.

Maggie pursed her lips and said, "Go on, tell her. It will make her ever so jealous."

Leslie's fingernails scraped lightly over my boner, causing me to lurch in my chair and damn near ejaculate in my trousers.

"You're not touching my man are you, Leslie?"

"Only a little bit."

"Stop it, it's my toy, not yours and we're not having a goddamn competition for him. Find your own stud."

I couldn't believe my ears. Were they actually fighting over me?

"I only want to find out how big he is," Leslie said with a pout.

"If I had to guess, and I will... for your benefit, I'd say perhaps eight inches and he's also reasonably fat in all the right places." She turned to me and smiled, "but we will take proper measurements later."

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