We went to Los Angeles and found an apartment and got me settled. Billy explained to me that he had been dating a girl very regularly and was thinking of getting married. I was happy for him, but I certainly wondered if that would keep us from having sex together again.
"I'll always keep some for little sister," he said, hugging me.
"And I'll always make room for you," I replied.
Then he kissed me on my cheek as he opened his pants and pulled out his cock. I took it in my lips and made love to it as I had back on the farm in Wisconsin. I felt good again, like myself. Billy always knew how to help me.
Two weeks later, we visited our parents in Two Forks and a lot of tears were shed when I saw my mother and dad for the first time in years. They didn't ask any questions. They only assured me they loved me and would always love and care about me wherever I might be.
Later that night, Billy and I went to the barn and sat on the bales of hay behind the partition just for old time's sake.
"Why didn't I see you in New York? Why did I run again? I could have saved myself from that whole drug scene…" I would never forgive myself for having run from Billy that time in New York.
"Hell, I guess I would have done the same thing. Were you ashamed?"
"Ashamed? God, you bet! I couldn't face you, with you knowing I was a professional whore!"
"You can face me any time," he said with compassion. I looked up at him and smiled. He was too good to be true.
"Maggie, I think I'm going to move to Los Angeles. I can get the company to transfer me. I really like California. Linda was born there. She finishes college in June. I know she'd like to go back out there."
"Fantastic!" I was surprised and overjoyed. I felt a tremendous relief to know Billy would be nearby, able to help, someone to run to for that strength and protection that I needed so badly.
"Hey," he asked softly, "care to do it once for old times?"
"Sure," I giggled, already opening his zipper.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It has been one year from the day that we sat in the barn talking. Billy moved to Los Angeles a few weeks later and we lived close to each other. He spent most of his time at my apartment in Hollywood – he liked the pool – and we treasured our special relationship. Having sex with him helped curb my appetite for just anyone off the streets – although I did go for a nice young boy every now and then – and it helped me conserve my energy for other things.
I found a job as a waitress and soon was making enough money to take care of myself. It was a good feeling to work and be paid for something other than sex. I met others and made a few friends, and even found a good close girlfriend, Arlene, the first real woman friend I ever had in my life.
Arlene lives in my building also. She is fascinated when I relate my latest sexual conquests. I must tell her about the guy last night – and I must remember to find Tom Lingon, that guy's friend who lives upstairs.
And so with Arlene and Billy and with work and lots to keep me busy, I'm happy. Often I think about Greg, but I pity him now and wonder where he is and what he is doing. I'm afraid he isn't happy, and that is sad.
Though I don't suck cock as much anymore, I'm still the best in the world. I've had quite a time here in Los Angeles, with some of the biggest and best organs I've ever seen or tasted.
Just two weeks ago I sucked off a kid who happened to be coming out of Hollywood High as I was driving by in my little Pinto. He started thumbing while he was still on the school steps and I slammed on my brakes and nearly caused an accident on Highland Avenue. He got into the car.
"Where you going?" I asked.
"Anyplace away from school," he replied in a husky voice. He was fair and tall and was wearing tight faded jeans and a sweatshirt.
"How about my apartment? Wanna get sucked off?" I was always direct. It saved time.
"What?"
"You heard me," I said out of the corner of my mouth.
"Yeah, I did. Sure. Great?" He had an erection by the time we arrived.
Once in the apartment I pulled his pants down around his ankles and went down on him as I pushed my finger up his ass. His cheeks opened and it slid all the way in as my lips parted and rolled themselves along the shaft of his eighteen-year-old cock. He came in minutes.
And that's typical. Like the guy by the pool last evening. That's my life. Maggie the Mouth Girl. That's me. That will always be me.
I should end this story with the words above, but I can't. I wouldn't be telling it all. I would be cheating you out of something.
There is still something missing – inside me. It is that one thing that I had with Greg even if it was for a short time – that I have never felt with anyone else. Love. I'm a dreamer, a romantic. No matter how many cocks I suck and how rewarding the experiences are, I'll always be sitting here with that little glimmer of hope in my eyes waiting for the right man to walk into my life and sweep me off my feet. Maybe I'll wait forever, but I can't help it. Billy has always told me to hold on to the happy moments – he's doing that now that he and Linda are married – and I think of those happy times with Greg and I feel great inside. But they're only memories. And I want the real thing.
And so I close. Hoping and waiting for love to come. But in the meantime, I'll have a good time waiting.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I couldn't end there, not after what happened in the last week since I wrote that.
You remember the name Tom Lingon, the one who lives in my building? Well, we met. And I think he's IT! I think he's the ONE!
I was coming home from the Ranch Market, carrying two bags of groceries, when this handsome dark guy standing near the pool offered to help me. I gave him one bag as I thanked him and stared at the lump in his swimming trunks.
I opened the door to my apartment and we both entered.
"Just set it near the refrigerator, that'll be fine," I said, setting my bag on the kitchen table.
"Okay, fine," he said, doing as I asked.
"Thank you so much. Wow, it's warm today," I said, shutting the door to the patio. He noticed.
"Oh, sorry I left that open," he said, standing in the kitchen by the refrigerator.
"Forget it, the air conditioning's on," I said, standing near him.
"I've never seen you before. I just moved in not too long ago, so that probably explains it. I'm Tom Lingon." He held out his hand.
"Oh!" I said, a little too startled. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds.
"Your friend told you, didn't he?" I asked. "Yes. But that's not why I'm looking at you like this," he said softly. "You're beautiful."
"I am?" I was puzzled. I thought all he wanted was a blow job.
"I never expected – I mean, I thought you'd be some messed-up chick who did nothing but drag guys in to blow them. Say, you're beautiful." He said it as if he were in love with me already, in those few minutes.
He reached over and put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me to him. Slowly, his lips met mine and we kissed for a long time, lightly and gently. The blood raced through my veins.
He pulled away and asked, "Can I see you tonight?"
We went out to dinner that night and started talking and never stopped till we got back to my apartment. I told him most of my life's story, and he told me his. We were so at ease with each other, so honest. We couldn't believe it was happening. At least I couldn't. And he said so, too.
He was nuts about me. I knew it already. And soon he was nuts about the way I was sucking his cock. We rolled around on the bed until I finally pulled it from his pants and started fellating him. He was immediately knocked out by the pleasure rippling through his body and I sucked him till he came, without opening more than his zipper. He was in tears when I finished. He told me he had never felt anything like it.