Jed Cleland - Maggie_s moist mouth

Greg didn't return for days. He didn't call, he didn't write. He had disappeared. Billy had to get back to Chicago and I was ready to face Albuquerque alone, so we planned on leaving.

We planned to go back together – Billy was going to fly into Albuquerque with me to see that I was okay – but the day before we were to leave he got a call and found out he had to be back for a business meeting that same afternoon. So I drove him to the airport and saw him off. I promised him I would be fine, and I truly was over the initial shock. I figured what Greg had seen in that room that night was no worse than what I had been told about him. So we both had been to blame, we both had kept secrets from each other, and we both would have to make new lives for ourselves.

I drove back to the motel quickly, planning on packing Greg's things to have them shipped to our apartment in Albuquerque. I figured sooner or later he would have to let me know where he was and what we would do about all the things we owned jointly.

I parked the car and walked through the lobby and down the hall to our room. I opened the door and stopped dead. All I remember seeing at first was a huge cock driving itself up someone's wide-spread ass. I thought I was in the wrong room at first, and I turned my head, and then immediately turned back. There were balls under the ass that was being fucked like lightning. It was the right room! And it was Greg that was being fucked on that bed.

I grabbed the door to keep from falling over. It shut, but I leaned against it, staring at the two men. The blond guy pulled his cock out of Greg's ass almost immediately and scurried to the far side of the bed, trying to get the covers in front of him. He looked frightened.

Greg's reaction was what amazed me. Instead of trying to hide what had been going on, instead of trying to make the situation easier on us all, he made it worse and as ugly as it could possibly have been.

Greg stood up and screamed at me, his cock hard, bouncing in front of him. "You bitch!"

"Greg…" the blond, who I assumed was Paul, warned.

"Shut up," Greg said to him, turning his head sharply back to me. "You suck your brother's cock and then you have the gall to come in here looking like you're seeing something perverse? You're perverse, you know that?"

"Greg, I didn't know you…" I tried to talk but he wouldn't let me.

"Shit! I came back for my stuff – I sat out there waiting for you, I thought you'd never leave – and we figured why not do a little fucking since we have the time and the place. You and Billy sure took advantage of this room, didn't you?"

I was mad now. "You should talk about Billy! At least I was honest with him. You were never close to being honest with him. You were in love with him, not me, and you only went for me because I was part of him, the next best thing to having his cock in your mouth!"

He slapped me across my face and I went flying halfway across the room. I heard Paul let out a holler as I fell, and I didn't know what hit me at first.

Greg was screaming at me, telling me he hated me and never wanted to see me again. I kept up my strength and pulled myself to the chair and stood up.

"You are jealous that I was sucking Billy and not you, you dirty queer! You loved it when asshole Denny stroked your rear! That's why you've always been so damned free in our group things, always willing to touch another guy, always preaching the bisexual route! QUEER!" I screamed it at him as loud as I could.

"You incestuous little whore," Greg said softly, locking the door of the room with one hand. "You'll see what queer means. You'll see what it's like…"

I still, to this day, believe he was temporarily insane. What he made me do – what he made Paul do – was beyond any sane comprehension. He was like a madman and we were too scared to fight.

"Kneel, damn you," he said, with a look on his face that told me I had better do what he ordered.

"And you, come here," he said to Paul. I really felt sorry for that poor guy then. He had no idea what he was getting himself into and if he had sincerely liked Greg at the time, I'm sure he never saw him again after that little scene in the motel room.

"Maggie, now you're going to see what it's like to suck a queer. While he's getting fucked by a big fat cock from behind. You're going to suck me till I come all over your Goddamned face!"

Paul started to plead with Greg, but he wasn't strong enough to fight. Greg grabbed the boy's soft cock and started working it up and down. It was shiny from the lubrication they had been using and Greg's hand slid up and down it easily.

Greg kissed the guy on the mouth. I felt a churning in my stomach and I hoped I wouldn't throw up. I looked away but Greg saw me and screamed at me again. I watched.

Soon Paul was hard again and he stood facing me, his legs planted on the floor, holding his long cock before him. Then Greg turned his back to the blond boy and bent over and spread his ass. I watched as Greg backed onto the boys cock, easily and slowly, as his own penis rose steadily into the air.

Greg then moaned and stood up straight, letting the blond guy control the movements. From the floor I could see. Paul's balls hitting between Greg's legs each time he drove his penis up Greg's asshole. Paul's eyes, when they met mine, seemed to apologize. I began to feel sorry for him. And I even felt sorry for Greg. He had been my ideal of manhood – virile, strong, good-looking, powerful – and now he seemed so weak.

"Okay, Maggie, suck on it. Suck on it while his cock rides up my ass! Suck on the queer's cock!"

I did it. I put it between my lips and began my movements in rhythm to Paul's strokes. Greg's cock slid in and out of my lips but this time there was no feeling of pleasure for me, no feeling of love. I hated him and I hated what he was making me do. His cock suddenly seemed dirty and ugly to me and I didn't want him to come in my mouth. I started crying and I felt as if I wanted to die.

In a minute I heard Paul panting and then his movements started to speed up. In a few moments he came, and he slammed his cock as hard into Greg as he could. Greg's cock pushed itself down my throat and burst hot cum into my mouth. I choked and pulled my head away. He grabbed my head and pulled it back against his cock, so his semen covered my face, my hair, my eyes. It burned as it mixed with my tears and I sobbed as I heard him beginning to laugh.

His laughter continued as I rolled myself up into a ball on the floor. How could he laugh at such a thing? How could he have done it? He had loved me, I was sure he had! And now he had degraded me and was laughing.

Paul dressed quickly and I looked up to see him run out of the apartment without looking back at Greg. I turned to Greg. He sat there staring at the open door, looking sad and lonely. I knew he was sick, but I had no compassion, no understanding. I was at the point of mental and physical collapse – I had been tortured – and I wanted to run away from it all.

I stood up and wiped my face with a towel that was lying nearby. Then I turned to look him in the face. He sat there naked, his masculine body trembling on the bed. I took a step toward him and spat into his eye. Then I walked out of the room and slammed the door. I never saw him again.

He left the apartment some time later, and I waited on the beach for hours until I was sure he was gone. Then I went back and packed my suitcases and drove to the airport and took the next plane out. I scarcely knew where it was going. I bought a ticket and got on it. I had to run away.

I found myself in New York City, alone and without a cent to my name. I sold my suitcase, pawned the engagement ring Greg had given me, and owned only the clothing I was wearing. I walked the streets in search of food, food for my body and food for my passions.