GG's, Like in Maggie Ch. 03

Unable to focus on anything else, he left work and made his way back home. He didn't know if she was still there, but if she was, he was gonna put an end to this. He probably broke the speed limit making his home, but he was seeing red. He was so upset by Maggie doing this, by invading his privacy in such a way. She broke into his house! How?

Before he knew it, he zoomed into his garage and almost ran out of his car into his house. Looking around, he saw no signs of life. He ran up the stairs two at a time and ran to his bedroom. And what did he see?

Nothing.

No signs of life. No changes. Everything exactly as he left it. He scanned the second floor, and the first. Nothing. No one was here. No mark that anyone had been here since this morning. And it was then, as he calmed down, that he started to put the pieces together. Maggie wasn't stupid. She probably wouldn't send a picture of her committing the crime in progress, right? Then again, it did make him run home, so if that was her plan, then it worked. But, she wasn't here. Then why?

His phone pinged again, and he grabbed at it quickly. It was a text... from her.

'You look so cute when you're upset, darling!' she said. I've never seen you drive so fast!' She then sent another picture. It was her standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, in the same underwear she was in before, only this time, she was pointing her butt at the mirror, exposing her thong-clad rear to him again.

She wasn't here. She had lured him here, but she wasn't actually here. Maybe she had followed him. Maybe she was parked outside the gate. He didn't know. But she was toying with him. Watching him react. She was the puppeteer, and he was the puppet.

Andrew wanted to slam his phone on the ground, but he stopped himself. He was a bundle of raw nerves, of coiled energy, and he didn't know what to with it. He ran back up the bedroom again, tearing it apart, scanning to see if she had left anything behind. He tore apart his dresser, his wife's, the bed, but he found nothing. He searched the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen... nothing. No sign of her. Nothing left behind.

Andrew didn't know what to do. He was furious. He was seeing red. He was panting for breath. Oh, and also, he was hard as a fucking brick. All these conflicted feelings, those naughty pictures, the way she was so obviously taking over his life... the way his body reacted was for his large married prick to get as hard as iron. Through his anger, his cock pulsed with need. He needed to do something. He needed to find an outlet for this energy. He needed to do something, or he was gonna explode.

So, he went upstairs and jacked off.

He was still boiling with anger. He was still furious with Maggie. But his aching cock could not be ignored. He finished quick, but he finished huge, exploding with band after band of thick cum directly into the toilet. He almost fell to his knees it felt so good. But once it was done, he could calm down. He could think straight. He could reassess and figure out what had happened.

He cleaned up the house, straightening up the mess he had made, before walking outside. The entire neighborhood was fenced off all the way around. So either Maggie hopped the fence, which he didn't think was likely, or... she strutted right through the front gate.

"Hey, Ray..." Andrew said to the guy at the booth. When Ray looked up at him, he clearly got nervous.

"Uh, yeah?" Ray asked.

"Has anyone been through here lately? Someone unusual?" Andrew asked.

"Um, oh... what do you mean?" Ray asked, still nervous.

"Well, someone got into my house, and I'm trying to figure out how," Andrew said firmly. Ray looked away. "So has anyone been through here today?"

"Um, no, not today, no," Ray replied.

"How about any other day?" Andrew inquired. Ray gulped. That was all the answer Andrew needed. Maggie had been here recently. Just not today. "Listen... I know she has her appeal. And she probably worked it to get past you, didn't she?" Ray looked away again, unable to meet Andrew's gaze. He didn't usually get this way, but she was bringing it out of him. "But never again, okay? I could have your job right now, you hear me? You can't let her though. She is not a friend. She is not family. So keep her out, okay?" Ray simply nodded, sweating bullets.

Andrew walked away, some of that anger still flowing through him. He never got this angry, like ever, and it was clear to anyone watching him. As he walked towards his house, his phone pinged again. He knew better, he did, but he couldn't stop himself. He looked at the text she sent.

'Don't be angry, baby. You know you love it. Don't get so worked up. Why get so upset when all you want to do is lick my pussy? Why not just respond, and I can make you feel A LOT better?'

Blood boiling, Andrew pocketed his phone and continued walking, not looking back. Every part of his life, Maggie had now invaded. He had let her in an inch, and she had taken more than a mile.

Was there any hope of escape?

***********

Clearly, in the time Maggie had spent in his house, she had been busy. For the next few days, she peppered him with pictures she had taken in his house. At first, it was just pictures of her in her own underwear. Obviously, she had brought some of it with her, wearing various colored underthings, from white, to black, to orange and neon pink. All of it tiny. All of it filthy. Then, she went naked, covering herself, but the knowledge that this woman had been naked in his own bedroom filled him with fury.

Maggie would stand in front of the mirror, naked, arms and hands covering her naughty bits. She turned around, pointing her bare ass at the reflection. All that firm, juicy flesh. Those round cheeks. So round... so perfect. And that tattoo, her tramp stamp, the vine of thorns, with blooming pink flowers, composed of small, connected words that Andrew still did not know... even the sight of that turned him on at this point. Then, she slid into his bed, taking pictures of her hot body covered by his bedsheets. She posed hotly for the camera, hair mussed, as if she had woken up next to him. Like a preview for what she wanted to happen. Maggie in his wife's side of the bed, taking his wife's place. He couldn't stop himself from making that connection.

Again, she covered herself just enough, the sheet covering her nipples while showcasing as much of the rest of her huge boobs as possible. At one point, she had kicked the sheets down so she could pose on her side for the camera, arm over her boobs, her leg covering her vagina. She looked amazing, despite his anger with her. This was an image he could never forget.

But she wasn't done yet.

Having worn out trying on all the clothes she had brought with her, she branched out. She began trying on Kathleen's clothes, first her underwear. Her smaller, plainer bras and more practical underwear. Despite them being normal clothes, Maggie found a way to rock them in a way Kathleen never did. His wife's small bras could not contain Maggie's massive bust, the soft, firm flesh pouring over the edges, their immense weight threatening to blow out the undersized garment. Even the panties looked good on Maggie, thanks to her incredible ass. This whole thing invited the comparisons between her and his wife, and Andrew couldn't help but acknowledge the fact that she looked better in these garments than Kathleen ever did. She made his wife's plain underwear seem sexy.

She moved on to her normal day to day outfits. Clothes Kathleen wore to work, things that she looked good in. But seeing Maggie in these clothes was unforgettable. She looked mouthwatering, her generous curves making the material tight in all the right places. Things that looked sensible on Kathleen looked undeniably sexy on Maggie. Things that showed a bit of Kathleen's upper chest showed a good amount of Maggie's cleavage. Skirts and pants that Kathleen wore nicely looked amazing painted against Maggie's long legs and fantastic ass. Andrew could never look at his wife dressed in any of these outfits without imaging Maggie in the same clothes, and looking way better in them.

She even wore some of his own clothes, or more specifically, she pulled on some of his t-shirts over her otherwise naked body. There was always something sexy about seeing a girl wearing her man's shirts in this fashion, as it always inferred a sense of intimacy that no doubt led to her wearing this clothing. It was always very appealing when Kathleen did this in the early stages of their relationship. He tended to prefer well-fitted shirts, nothing too tight or anything like that. That being said, his shirts were simply not built to handle a girl with such massive jugs. His shirt clung to her luscious body, molding to her enormous fake tits, showcasing their full, immaculate shapes. The indents from her stiff nipples were apparent underneath the tight garment, letting him know she was really enjoying herself. She did this with multiple shirts, ending with her sending him a picture of her in the same shirt he was wearing that day. Somehow, someway, she knew. She had to know that this was what he was wearing. Because she was clearly keeping an eye on him every chance she could.

Some small part of him admired her tenacity. Some small part of him enjoyed that someone felt that strongly towards him, despite his marital status. Some small part of him enjoyed the fact that she was working so hard. Some small part of him approved of these actions, the same part that had gotten him in trouble in the first place. The same part that he was still trying to keep buried inside him.

Andrew didn't know what to do. He could easily just call the police. She had been so bold as to send him the evidence of her crime. Although technically, she had convinced the guard to let her in, so he wasn't sure if there was an actual crime there. That being said, it was still fucked up. There had to be a case here. But, doing so would only invite questions, forcing him to admit to the time he spent with Maggie, not only on record, but to his wife. That was no good. He could get a restraining order, but that would also invite all those questions. And, knowing Maggie, she would be undeterred by such a thing.

He would just have to take it. Despite his objections, she was forcing herself on him, either until she wore him down into submission, or she wore herself out. He was hoping for the latter, but feared the former.

He didn't know if she would ever give up. It felt like she was only getting started, and she had only ramped it up. He didn't know what it would take for her to stop, or if she would just keep it going until she burned it all to the ground. Burn down his entire marriage and leave him in the ashes, leaving him with no choice but to finally just give in and accept her advances, to submit to her completely or be left with nothing.

He prayed it wouldn't come to that.

************

The married man did his best to not think about Maggie, despite her best efforts. She still sent teasing texts and pictures, but nothing to the level of breaking into his house. He didn't let Kathleen know anything was up, and he did everything he could to throw himself into his photography.

Admittedly, nothing got him really in the groove quite as much as taking pictures of Maggie did, but there might have been other factors at play back then. But Andrew was still pretty proactive, taking lots of good, artful shots. Like a nice shot of a statue at an outdoor sort of indie art exhibit, really taking a nice shot of it in profile. Or the graceful curves of a wave in the ocean, about to slam into the beach. Or a pair of delightful looking gourmet cupcakes, well-decorated with cream and fruit.

A few times, people noticed him taking photos and invited him closer to take pictures of something near them. Like at that art exhibit, a woman had seen him taking photos of some of the other exhibits and when he was near hers, admiring the woven, glassy, smooth little sculpture she had made, she invited him to take a few pictures of her exhibit as well, which he did, as she handed him her card and invited him to send him some of the nicer pics.

Then there was the woman sitting in a bakery. It was like a bakery/deli that he sometimes came too for lunch, and he had been in the neighborhood while on one of his photography trips. Andrew had been in there, taking pictures of a few things, like the baker kneading some dough, or the way two hunks of ham looked next to each other, and some of the various baked goods in trays. This woman had noticed him at it, and inquired what he was doing. She seemed nice and sweet and friendly, and she had a baby in a stroller near her, so he didn't feel apprehensive about talking to her. He explained that he enjoyed photography, and was simply following wherever inspiration took him. She laughed and joked with him, saying that she just thought he was one of those d-bags who took pictures of his food. He laughed and denied her joking assertion.

"Well, I actually am one of those d-bags," she began with a laugh. "So I was wondering if you could take a picture of me and my food." Wanting to be friendly, he obliged, and she posed for a few pictures, holding up her plate of food, switching poses in an exaggerated fashion. She asked if he could send her the pictures in anyway, and when he agreed, she wrote down her twitter profile for him.

So, he was having a good time again with taking pictures, and he was almost forgetting about Maggie. Pleased after a few days of productive picture taking, he went through his fresh portfolio to admire his work. Just as he got started, his phone pinged. Seeing that there was a text from Maggie, he told himself not to look, but once again, he couldn't help himself. He read it, somewhat relieved that it wasn't a picture and just text.

'You're wife's very smart. And very talented,' Maggie began. 'She has the fancy job which make tons of money, and you clearly love her. She's gives you pretty much everything you can ask for from a partner. But, the thing is... I can titty fuck you. I have huge tits, I can do lots of very dirty things with them, things your wife could never do. So you have to ask yourself... what matters more to you?'

Rolling his eyes, Andrew tossed his phone away. He wasn't that easily cowed due to a woman's large chest. Even taking into account his interactions with Maggie, he still was unconvinced. Obviously, he had chosen Kathleen, and stuck by her, despite, admittedly, being slightly tempted. But he wasn't that affected by women just because they had large chests. Really, he wasn't.

It was with this mindset that he resumed scanning the pictures he had recently taken. He had done his best to separate Maggie and his interactions with her from his normal photographic pursuits. And while he knew Maggie had sort of inspired his current phase of being fascinated with curves, looking at these new photos, the inspiration was more obvious than he initially suspected. And in some cases, blatantly so.

For example, that picture of the art show, of the sculpture that had caught his eye? It was a stature of a woman's bust, like you would see at the front of a pirate's ship. The woman in the sculpture was naked, which was fine, hey, it was art, but every picture he took almost lovingly showcased the woman's imposing breasts, the best of these photos being the one that showed them in profile, bathed almost in shadow against the bright sky, showcasing their full, round shape and prominent, stiff nipples. The piece was titled 'The Legend of Pirate Queen Lenora.' A quick bit of research let him know this was based on a real person, a supposedly evil pirate queen who was known equally for her cutthroat nature and daring heists as she was for her absolutely massive breasts. Andrew's pictures of her sculpture showcased her most legendary features, clearly.

But maybe this could be written off as an accident. You would think that, right? Unfortunately, this was not the case. That picture on the beach, of the cresting wave about to slam into the beach, the water curving in a graceful fashion. The picture that Andrew was super proud of, that he captured in the perfect moment. It also perfectly captured two bikini clad women strolling on the beach. And, of course, these two women were stunningly beautiful, and of course, the one facing him happened to have monster tits on an otherwise slim and perfect frame. Her small bikini was straining to contain her massive jugs. And her friend, who was facing away camera, was just as blatantly showcasing her near-perfect ass, each round, fleshy cheek just hanging out of the booty shorts-like bikini bottom, just begging to be appreciated.

Evidently, he caught this picture in just the right moment.

It didn't end there. That pair of innocent, delicious looking cupcakes? Yeah, pushed together they very obviously looked like breasts. The smooth surface of the frosting, capped by red cherries. Which each blatantly looked like nipples. What was going on with him?

He looked through a lot of the pictures he'd taken over the past few weeks. The hillside... the water balloons... the melons... the volleyballs. Looking at them with new eyes, what did he see? Boobs! Tits. Knockers. Bazongas. What was he doing? Had it always been this obvious? How had he not noticed? No... no. There had to be something less obvious. Some of these pictures had to be innocent... right?

And then there were the two women who invited him to take their pictures. First, the one at the art thing, who wanted pictures taken of her art piece. Scanning it again, he couldn't see how the piece could in anyway be misinterpreted as boobs. But what could be interpreted as boobs were the impressive set the artist had, which were so accidentally showcased behind the picture of the sculpture, with her cleavage very clearly exposed. How had he missed this? How had he sent her the photos and everything without ever noticing this until now?

But what about that mother at the deli? That young mother, with the baby, who wanted innocent pictures of her lunch? Looking at the pictures again and staring at her chest, he couldn't help but notice... yeah, her boobs were pretty large. And yeah, she did show off a hint of cleavage, but not a ton. And his photos did just happen to get a good view of that. And yeah, they did press into the table in a mouthwatering manner, a fact very clearly captured by the photo he took as she showcased her meal, but it wasn't too bad. Right? This woman was attractive, sure, sexy even, but she seemed so nice, which is why they got to talking, not her uncommonly large chest. He had even sent her the pictures he had taken, and her reply was nothing but friendly and innocent. Nothing wrong with this one, right?

Andrew, on a whim, checked the twitter of the woman he had sent this picture to, since that's the way they got in contact. He saw that she had reposted the picture for her friends to see. He clicked on the photo and checked the comments, wanting to verify this was an innocent encounter.

Unfortunately...

'Lookin' hot, mama!' the first comment said to the woman, Tasha.

'I know, right? Had to get a pic knowing I looked that good!' Tasha replied.

'Who took it?' a friend of hers asked. 'New boyfriend?'

'Oh my God, he was like the hottest guy!' Tasha said. 'He was taking pictures of some other stuff, and I talked him into taking a few pictures of me.'

'I'm surprised you couldn't find an excuse to take your top off for him.' Her friend stated.

'I was trying!' Tasha said.

'You got a chance with this one?' the friend asked.

'I have his email.' Tasha replied.

'So we'll be seeing baby number two from you soon, then, huh?' the friend asked with an emoji smile.