Maggie
We'd all been friends since our teens. Paul became my best friend after he married Maggie - handsome, elegant, rugged, independent, and enterprising; also artistic as a cook, decorator, and photographer. He repped high-end cameras for a living. Always inquisitive, he discovered new hobbies, became passionate, and shared his enthusiasm for music, windsurfing, hunting, antique watches… whatever.
I trusted Paul. When I divorced and moved overseas, I left my few treasures and secrets with Paul for safekeeping in the tiny cottage that he and Maggie had rehabbed: one of several that they bought for a pittance, made lovely, and sold for a profit.
Seven years into their marriage I knew, because Maggie had confided in me, that they remained fast friends but romance had left them and their bed was cold. They'd separated for a while but were back living together that November weekend I had come down from London to stay with them.
After a superb Paul-cooked dinner on Saturday night, with a couple of bottles of duty free wine from my previous week working in Italy, I had declined to wake early on Sunday to go in search of rabbits with Paul and his silenced .22 rifle. I woke early, anyway, awakened by the creaking sound of the door to the guest bedroom. I had opened my eyes in time to know that the disturbance to the sheets of my single bed was Maggie, naked save for a delicate choke collar, climbing in.
Amazed – I’d never seen her in less than a bathing suit - but very happy, I had put my arms around Maggie's warm, smooth, strong, tomboy frame, and hugged her close. The lovemaking that followed was urgent, instinctive, and straightforward.
Thereafter, Maggie and Paul separated again. Maggie and I made love whenever we could - in a hotel, in a car, in a borrowed bed.
I'd been living with a partner, Martha, who suffered my neglect as I'd take off on weekends to visit my parents and to spend time with Maggie. Even though Martha, had accepted my brief, frenzied, reunion with my ex-wife (that’s another tale), and had herself stoked my flame with whispered pillow confessions of dalliances while I was traveling for my job, this was not how she'd wanted our relationship to develop when she had followed me back to London from Milan the previous summer. But we didn't tell lies, and we maintained our home together until I left the following spring for a year-long assignment in Chicago.
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While in Chicago, Maggie and I had written often: me sharing my discovery of this New World, and her recounting her move to a large rented house, her new roommates, and her new career managing the first cook shop in my home town.
In our letters and occasional phone calls, we talked about my forthcoming visit home to serve as best man at an old friend’s wedding, and together we evolved Maggie’s original plan to visit friends somewhere in America into a decision that she'd come to stay with me in Chicago for two weeks.
Arriving in London, I’d spent a guilty first night in Martha's bed where she’d murmured “what am I going to tell my boyfriend?” as she ground against me for the very final time; then followed an enthusiastic and powerful reunion with Maggie. My wedding duties fulfilled, including the obligatory roast of the groom, I had accompanied Maggie back to the alien world of Chicago, to lonely days as she awaited my evening return from work, and awkward nights together wondering just what we were doing and where we were going. She wrote:
Monday September 29th
Darling Tony,
I’m making breakfast on my last day in the States. I don’t feel that sad anymore as I’m missing my friends and can’t wait to see the sea and the downs again and the little old ladies that shuffle along the pavement having just received their pensions and wondering what they should buy for supper & complaining in MacKenzies, wonderful girls we are, to stop and chatter to them. I know 2 or three that come in every day just for the company. I hope fate will have us together when we are old so that we can play games together and have lots of fun and never feel lonely. I’ve enjoyed being with you here, it was not what I expected. I can’t remember what I did expect but I do remember feeling great shock in the first week and a longing to go back. I think I missed the company of a girl friend mainly because it’s much easier to talk openly to another girl and I couldn’t do that with you. I’m only just beginning to feel that way now I have to go, & when I next see you we will be awkward again – maybe not, maybe I shall be able to write to you more of my true feelings, loves and hates & how I feel about people and things more. Although I love you with a great passion I also need you. When I came here I was so uncertain about it all, I didn’t mean to be unkind to you in some of the things I said to you – it was only my uncertainties coming out & not feeling completely at ease with you. I feel much freer now I feel I can go off somewhere and be with other people for maybe years but I will still have that love for you always in my mind, not tieing me down but making me happier & freer & that is something I’ve never felt before – so you are a truly wonderful person who probably understands me more than anyone, even Paul, who I have loved & shall love but we never had that freedom.
I won’t read this back as I’m sure I will tear it up.
I know you want me to be more demanding but I cannot be. Father always said if you don’t ask you don’t get but when you asked the answer was always no, so I learnt it was better never to ask & to try & not want, although it doesn’t work like that because you always want & it gives you great unhappiness. Anyway it was always much easier to give than to take, & if you give me the chance I will give you everything I have, all the love and caring for you that I have and everything that I own. I wish you were here now I want to suck you, to lie on your back, I feel you hard against me, I want to please myself with your body to have you fuck me long and hard then to watch your sperm come all over my pussy and then having you hold me in your arms. I shall always remember these three weeks, I have never been loved by someone so much as you and I had to wait 30 years for that. Gosh you were worth waiting for.
Maggie xxx
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I visited again at Christmas. We had a couple of memorable days and nights together and I'd looked forward to the bliss we would, for sure, share being together after my eventual return to England. But time, as always, didn't stand still, and the different routines, expectations, and encumbrances that we'd developed by my return in the spring led to awkward moments, frustration, and exasperation. We saw each other, but not frequently. On reflection, I was afraid of her passion, afraid that I could never love as intensely as she loved me. We were never a 'couple': she was never without a man in the background. I went away on a long overseas assignment and our yearnings, the yearnings that never seemed to quite work for us when we were together, continued:
14th April
Darling Tony,
Sorry couldn’t quite manage it last night. Eyes a bit on the gritty side, although the rest of my body was awakened by the sound of your voice. If I could just have an hour or so, I could show you such love and devotion to your body, such tender loving care as I wash you with my kisses and suck you from here to eternity, one day you will be able to make me come with any part of your body, I want you to use your toes as well as your fingers, oh god Tony, make me come right now, I’m aching and awash, I cannot, after you, let some bumbling idiot touch me. My mind is so full of you, I see your voice or rather hear your voice and see your beautiful body all the time. Wow you are amazing!
Well back to earth, talking of back to earth I’ve just watched the space shuttle land, so smooth and without a hitch one day maybe we shall be on one, hope so anyway.
I’m slowly eating through a bowl of nuts while writing this, Nigel who came to tea on Sunday has voted me eater of the year award.
Well between your two phone calls we have been to a party and had two dinner parties & a tea party, this weekend another dinner & a breakfast. I thought a breakfast party on Sunday would be fun before going to the pub.
It’s been everyone’s birthday this week, Julie, Nigel’s and Charlie’s. They all went to the Old Star but I confess I went to the Lamb with Sooks, Bryn & the other Tony. I find it strange using that name with him as up to now there has only been one Tony in my life, anyway he’s not a bit like you so that’s okay.
There’s a good track on the record at the moment, fancy a rhythmic cuddle? I do. Ah well one day maybe I won’t always have to dream.
I won 20p on Oxford winning the boat race, just thought I’d tell you that little bit of exciting news!
I’ve ordered a wind surfer. I don’t think the sea will be warm enough for me as I hate cold water but the evenings are so much lighter now I can go after work and I certainly need lots of practice.
I’ve been wonderfully lazy tonight. I’ve taken the evening off work, I couldn’t face another late night. There’s a lot going on at work right now and I need my sleep. We are having some alterations done as there were too many blind spots. I do hope you approve of them. I do love change change, so I’m busy planning it all at the moment. It’s wonderful to say ‘why don’t we move that wall a little here?’, and Pete the builder comes in that night & moves it!
Anette & co have all moved back to Berwick just for the summer. She and Colin are going through a bad patch at the moment. I sat and listened to her woes at lunchtime. Poor Netty, he’s such a bore sometimes.
Sooks and I took Bob (my little brother) to see Superman II last night. If I wasn’t already madly in love with you, Christopher Reeve would be quite delicious!
Well I was going to have an early night, so do you fancy coming up with me, it’s very cosy now upstairs with the carpet down – I want you, want you, want you.
Maggie xxxx
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Paul was still my friend. He hadn't known that Maggie had not visited friends but stayed alone with me during those weeks in Chicago. (Later, he'd told me that he had been hurt not to have known and wished that I'd told him. And I wished I'd only had the courage). Paul also remained Maggie’s good friend and they'd planned a summer windsurfing and camping trip together to the beaches of Cornwall in the West of England. They invited me along.
Driving together in Paul’s car, windsurfers strapped to the roof, we journeyed through the rural Somerset and Devon landscapes to the wild beauty of the Cornish Coast - with its legendary history of smugglers, tin mines, ancient dialects.. and Clotted Cream!
Paul and Maggie windsurfed in the cold Cornish surf. I hadn't learned yet so just watched them and photographed. Then we explored the crazy ruins of Tintagel Castle - King Arthur's seat and home of the Knights of The Round Table, Excalibur, and all. We'd pitched Paul’s tent in a farmer's field and, after a cozy evening in the local pub, settled down for the night in our sleeping bags on air mattresses.
Paul was to my right. Maggie was to my left. A few inches separated us. I lay awake in the dark, absorbing the strangeness of the moment. Paul’s breathing became regular. Maggie was still. My hand lay outside my sleeping bag. Presently I heard a quiet stirring, and felt Maggie’s hand touching the back of mine. I brought my fingertips to pair with hers, then enveloped her hand in mine and squeezed. Pressing and stroking with our hands, we sent long, silent, messages, our breathing slow and deep in the darkness.
I heard the faint but distinct sound of a zipper being eased, then felt a persistent steady tug on my hand. I gave into it as her hand led mine toward and inside her sleeping bag. Once inside, that guiding hand led me across the woolen sweater that she wore, past cotton shirt tails, to a warm and trembling thigh. Then, up under the shirt tail to the edge of cotton boy briefs and to the source of an intense, moist, heat.
Holding my breath, I eased my hand from Maggie’s grasp and slid fingers under the elastic to burrow into her soft nest of hair and the slippery folds beneath. I knew, absolutely, that this was crazy it must stop. Right now. But there was Maggie’s free hand snaking out to tug on the zipper of my bag. My other hand, my right, defied the common sense screaming in my brain to reach over and help that zipper down. In came the invading hand, and I rolled toward it to greet it with my oh-so-eager and hugely swollen pipe. Maggie curled her fingers and thumb, sort of back-handed, and stroked the full length up and down. Up and down. Up. And down.
Then her grip tightened. It no longer slid, it pulled, commanding and compelling, toward her. She rolled away from me, dislodging my hand from her nest but maintaining her grip on my pipe. She shuffled her bottom out of her bag to close the gap between us - and there was simply no turning back. I reached down, spread her cheeks, and rocked toward her as she reached and down between her legs to guide me between her oh-so tight, but oh-so slippery, lips.
Grasping her hips and pulling them hard toward me, I pushed myself into her completely as I possibly could. After a brief moment, where we both held our breath in the silent night, Maggie began to rotate her hips, first withdrawing so that only the tip of my cock remained lodged between her lips, then slowly rotating back so that I plumbed her depths to my limit.
Our breathing was quick and shallow. Paul’s breath was deep and steady. A sudden intrusive sound from below - the slurping, gurgling, sound of a pussy fucking - made us freeze and hold our breaths but Paul slumbered on and Maggie continued with her rhythmic rocking.
Fighting the instinct to quicken the pace and plunge hard into her, I kept perfectly still as Maggie milked my cock silently in the dark. With no sound, no light, the sweet smell of grass, my senses were concentrated on our point of connection – our point of communication - until I heard a sharp gasp and felt Maggie’s pelvis convulse. She paused for a moment, and then continued until her amazing muscles coaxed me to unload. Her motion didn't stop. Her hips rocked back and forward and her pussy squeezed me tightly until, unable to bear the intensity, I grasped her firmly against me, silently begging her to be still. Maggie stopped her movement, then reached down to insert her finger alongside my subsiding cock, withdraw it, and reach back to offer my lips a dessert of our combined juices. I lapped the finger clean, then reached down under her bottom to replace my now limp cock with two fingers, coating them with exquisite marinade and bringing them to Maggie’s mouth to reciprocate the exquisite tasting.
We lay still for a while, our bodies chilling in the night air, before retreating and carefully closing our bags. I lay marveling at the surreal event that had occurred, hardly believing the gift that my amazing friend had bestowed on me, or able to comprehend her willingness to risk so much. I really don't know what she was thinking. We never mentioned it. But I like to think that Maggie, too, remembers that night of long ago.
That was hot! Thanks for sharing via Elust :)