Maggie’s Collection

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I shared an apartment with my college roommate for a couple of years after we graduated. It was an older building without central air, but with spacious, screened sun rooms at the back of each apartment. In summer, I often slept in our sun room in the small breeze created by an oscillating fan. We’d acquired a few thrift-store couches and outdoor recliners to furnish the sun room, and for much of the year, we drank beer, listened to ballgames on an old radio, and thoroughly enjoyed the openness of the room. The dark screens ensured our privacy during the daylight hours, as well as, kept the room cooler than the rest of the apartment. Keeping the lights off at night made it all but impossible to see into the sun room after sunset. It was my favorite room in the apartment, and was outfitted as a perfect low-budget retreat. Unfortunately, the view from the sun room was mostly of the screened-in back porches and sun rooms of our neighbors, but there were trees and shrubs behind our building offering some relief from urban concrete.

One Friday in summer, at the end of a very long work week, I got home feeling grimy, hot, and tired. Jack was off on a business trip, so I had the place to myself. I wasn’t feeling very sociable and was looking forward to the solitude. I felt more uncomfortable with each step as I ascended the stairs, and I could hardly wait to get out of my shirt-and-tie work uniform. After locking the door behind me, I tossed the junk mail in the growing pile on the small table in the entry way. I sat long enough to remove my shoes, socks and tie and carried them to my bedroom where I dropped them unceremonious at the foot of the bed. I unbuttoned my shirt as I walked toward the kitchen, detouring long enough to turn on the shower. I inspected the beer inventory in the refrigerator, reduced it by one, and held the dark glass against my forehead. I took a deep drink and set the bottle on the kitchen table. I needed both hands to continue unbuttoning and unzipping.

I left the kitchen with my clothes draped over my arm, the beer in hand, and wearing only my boxer briefs. I added the clothes to the pile I’d already started, and with my now free hand, pulled down my briefs and stepped ataşehir escort bayan out of them. Finally feeling some relief from the heat, I padded toward the shower as I drained the beer. I was light-headed from drinking so fast, and I lingered in the cool shower letting its spray wash away the fatigue and heat of the afternoon.

After a half-hearted effort to towel dry, I opened another beer and went back to my room. I put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and a loose tee after first considering wearing nothing. I turned on the fan and dropped down into a recliner in the bright light of early evening, turned on the radio and looked at the sky. I felt drowsy from the beer and the heat. I edged up in the recliner, thinking it would revive me. Instead, I dropped into a deep sleep.

“Are you waking up?” A feminine voice whispered. I started, not yet fully awake, nor remembering falling asleep in the first place. I realized a hand was resting on my thigh, almost imperceptibly stroking my leg through the fabric of my briefs.

“Easy….” She said, “Don’t panic”.

I turned toward her voice. It was quite dark and the night time insect and traffic noises floated in on the warm air. To my relief it was much cooler than when I feel asleep. A subtle perfume scent blended with the moist smell of the night air. The hand stroking my thigh felt soft and warm; the rhythm, more lively, but still very light, very pleasurable.

“Who?” I tried to ask. A soft laugh answered.

“It’s Maggie. Don’t you recognize my voice?”

“Maggie,” I replied, still struggling to wake up.

“Sorry to startle you like this,” she said, “Jack gave me a spare key in case I needed to get in when he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.”

She laughed. “You’re having a tough time waking up, aren’t you cutie? Take a minute or two… I’ll be quiet.”

She continued to stroke my thigh with the flat of her hand using a gradually expanding circular motion – well beyond simply resting her hand on my leg. She teased my thigh as her finger tips explored beneath the thin cotton of my briefs.

“This will help,” she whispered.

Finally, the fog began to lift. I became conscious, escort kadıköy could make out Maggie keeling beside me in the dim light. I couldn’t see her clearly; she was in soft focus. Her auburn hair looked darker than it usually does. She had her hair in the pony tail favored by athletic women, and as usual, her face seemed radiant. Maggie is Jack’s older sister; I’d know her for years, but hadn’t seen her since we graduated. I’d always been attracted to her, but she had a boyfriend. At best, we’d flirted mildly. She’d never seen me in my underwear before. She’d never had her hand on my upper thigh either.

“This is just what it seems to be,” she finally deadpanned, “don’t get up.”

Maggie’s hand cupped the front of my briefs and lifted gently as she followed the contours up toward the waistband.

“Yes,” she hissed as my briefs began to bulge, “I wanted to feel you an hour ago. I just watched for a while.”

I moaned quietly, and lifted a hand to reach out for her. I was about to touch her cheek. She moved slightly.

“No, she whispered, “Lie there. Don’t move.”

Maggie caressed me again with the same upward motion. Almost imperceptibly, I felt myself press against her hand. Along with the intense excitement, I felt slightly embarrassed that she so effortlessly aroused me. Her hand continued to caress me, not evening stopping as she rose and sat on the edge of the recliner. She watched as her hand floated on the bulging fabric of my briefs.

“I love this kind of underwear on a man,” she observed, “especially when he’s hard. Everything is still so — on-display.”

With her other hand, Maggie lifted the bottom of my tee shirt, and lightly raked my stomach with her finger nails. She tugged lightly on the shirt.

“Off with this please,” she said.

She continued to watch as her hand cupped me and stroked me through my briefs. Using both hands, I tugged the tee over my head and she impatiently grabbed it and tossed it aside. She raked my chest enticingly with her finger nails. She switched hands never breaking the rhythm she’d set, and now toyed with the waistband, rubbing her fingers beneath it.

I sighed in pleasure maltepe escort and tried to reply to her, but she shushed me. I was having trouble finding words anyway. Her bright eyes were riveted on the bulge in my briefs as she began to vary the rhythm and pressure of her touch.

“Does your cock like this?” she asked, as she used a single finger to trace its length from bottom to top. Discovering the head, she used the finger to feel along the rim in a fluttering motion that was so intense I recoiled slightly.

“He does!” she giggled, repeating the motion as I groaned involuntarily.

With thumb and index finger, Maggie formed an open circle pulling the fabric tight around my cock. She stroked me and again, finding the rim, turned her circle in rapid but small motions. Her other hand pushed against my chest as I began to rise up out of the recliner.

“He likes that too!” she laughed.

As she pushed firmly against my chest, Maggie grasped my cock through my briefs and began to slowly stoke up and down. She shifted on the recliner, and moved her head close to mine.

“Like this baby? ” She whispered.

“God yeah” My breathing was heavy. I was surprised how difficult it was to talk. Maggie stroked me slowly, deliberately. Adeptly, she kept me highly aroused, slowing her pace when I neared the edge. The exquisite teasing went on and on. I’d never experienced anything like this. Grabbing the waist band of my briefs, I began to pull them down.

“No,” she hissed, “No…. “She pushed harder on my chest. I let my hands drop to the recliner’s cushion.

“Do you want to come, Baby?” she asked. “Tell me you do. You want to?”

“GOD… please.” I pleaded with her. Her hand moved faster, I could feel her warm breath on my cheek.

“Finish for me, Baby.” Her stokes went quickly to the rim, and down, never losing her touch. She moved down the recliner and stared at her hand. With her other hand she cupped my balls and stroked them in circular arcs.

“Now” she breathed, “Now.”

Maybe due to how long she’d played me, it seemed like I felt the pressure and the spasms for minutes before I came. I felt each separate contraction and felt a final, painful pressure and then finally release. Spurt after spurt soaking through the briefs… running in streams down my fly. I was loud. I don’t know what I said.

“Oh Baby.” Maggie moaned as she rubbed the wet stain on my briefs, “I’ll be taking these for my collection.”

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