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.