Cory , Max Ch. 01

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I jumped a little bit at the sound of someone shouting my name. I was walking back to work from lunch and deeply engrossed in the podcast streaming through my earbuds. I turned around and was surprised to see an old friend from college who I hadn’t seen much of over the past six years.

“Max!?” I couldn’t believe it was really her.

“Hey dude!” she giggled as she gave me a big hug.

Max and I both graduated from Kennison State in 2010, she with a degree in education and me with a marketing degree. After school, we both moved away, keeping in touch here and there but rarely seeing each other.

“What brings you to my corner of the world?” I asked.

“Wait, this is where you live?” Max replied, foregoing an answer to my query.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for like five years.”

“Oh my god, that’s freaking amazing!” she exclaimed, continuing, “I just got a job at the high school teaching social studies and coaching the varsity swim team!”

“Holy shit! That’s awesome!”

“What brought you here?”

“Remember how I got a gig with that firm I interned for right out of school?” I began, with Max nodding in assent. “Well, they relocated me not too far from here about a year later. The money was crazy good, and I started getting involved with local nonprofits and kind of feel in love with this place.”

“Dude, that’s so cool,” she beamed. “I’m guessing you’ve moved up a bit since then?”

“Actually, I left about a year ago for a passion project. If you have a minute, I can show you.”

“Totally, I just finished a few hours of paperwork at the school and was hoping to get familiar with the new hometown,” she agreed as I led her back toward work.

We strolled down High Street, catching up on lost time. After a few blocks, we turned the corner onto 4th and I stopped in front of The Grand Majestic, the theater that had seen several heydays go by, from vaudeville to punk rock to art house movies.

“This is it! The Grand Majestic,” I announced, sweeping my arm toward the marquee, which currently heralded that evening’s upcoming performance by Sleigh Bells.

“Dude, this place looks amazing, you work here?” Max seemed legitimately impressed that I was employed by such an organization.

“That’s one way of putting it,” I smirked.

“What’s another way of putting it?” She replied coyly. It was amazing how quickly we fell back into old conversational habits.

“I own it,” I proclaimed, beaming with pride that can only come after pouring your life into something and watching it flourish from your hard work.

“Dude,” Max said, giving me a fist bump. “Impressive.”

I led Max in through the staff entrance and gave her the tour. I brought her up to the booth, which served many functions. On film nights, this is where the projectionist does her thing. For concerts, the sound tech is here and for live theater most of the tech team can be found here. From there, we went up the spiral staircase to my office and I showed her my favorite feature, the small, four-seat balcony that had a stellar view of the entire theater. Max gasped audibly at the view.

“Dude, this is gorgeous,” she said, in awe of the theater’s beauty as most are when they see it for the first time. Hell, even after the first time. This place was built when theaters were works of art.

“I have got to see that stage!” she exclaimed.

I took her down the side stairs from my office to the balcony seating, and from there down another set of stairs to the lobby and into the floor seating area which, in advance of that night’s concert, was cleared of all chairs. It was at this point that I was reminded about some of the other things I liked about Max.

“This place is amazing,” she sang as she cartwheeled in the middle of the floor. The sing-songy voice and the cartwheel brought on a whole host of memories. The way Max would always find the fun in any situation. The way her playfulness always put the room at ease. The carefree nature in which she chose to live her life. And, my favorite, the way you always managed to catch little peeks of things you shouldn’t when Max was around.

For example, her cartwheel. Max gave no thought to her wardrobe before flipping over and landing like she had just completed a gymnastics routine. As she flipped upside-down her legs opened, giving me the quickest flash of bright blue panties under her very short shorts. Her cropped tank top then fell victim to gravity exposing the lower portion of her hot pink bralette, an article of clothing which I would soon get a hefty side view of as she proudly splayed her arms in a victory formation, allowing me a good look at her right breast comfortably situated in the pink, lace-covered garment.

In that moment, a flood of nostalgia washed over me. I remembered how frequently these little flashes would occur. I remembered that those little flashes are why I, as a horny 20-year-old new to campus, began spending more time with Max. My dick twitched in my boxer briefs as I followed her cute little butt toward xslot the stage, admiring the freckles on the part of her back that was exposed between her top and her shorts.

“Cory, this is absolutely amazing. How the hell did you manage to score this place?” she asked.

We sat on the stage, crosslegged and facing each other, as I talked about getting involved with the nonprofit friends group that wanted to save the theater, moving up in my firm but feeling unfulfilled, and finally buying the theater outright, and eventually getting it to the point of sustaining a modest staff and allowing me to leave the firm and work full-time in this place I had grown to love.

Max, in turn, regaled me with her teaching tales from the city she grew up in, and the ups and downs that came with teaching there. She talked about discovering yoga and eventually becoming a certified instructor. She mentioned disappearing into a relationship for a few years, but emerging from its failure with a more open mind and ready to experience new things.

All told, we spent the better part of three hours catching up whilst sitting on the Grand Majestic’s stage. I spent a fair amount of that time trying not to stare at the gap between her shorts and her upper thigh were the slightest hint of blue panties peekd out, but then again also enjoying how Max’s gesticulations offered occasional glimpses of that cute bralette.

“Listen, I’d love to keep chatting, but I really need a bite to eat and I also need to make up for lost time,” Max sighed.

“Lost time?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, before I ran into you I was supposed to start an apartment hunt,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Wait – you don’t have a place lined up yet?”


“Doesn’t the school year start in like a week?”

“Two weeks.”

“Isn’t this something you should’ve figured out already?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.

“Calm down, captain judgey-pants. I only got hired five days ago, these things take time.”

“You mean to tell me that the high school hired you less than three weeks before school started?”

“Yep. And that’s actually not bad. My first job I got hired on the second day of school and was in front of a classroom on the third,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Well shit. How the fuck are you supposed to prepare for that?” I asked, almost rhetorically.

“Right? Nothing like trying to plan lessons for two classes all the while trying to find an apartment, get used to a new state and a new town, not to mention that I need to meet the swim team tomorrow for the first practice.”

“Dude,” I said, placing my hand on her knee and looking her in the eye, “that is super fucked up. Let me buy you dinner and fill you in on our cozy little town.”

“Sold!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and, in the process, giving me a view of her bralette from below as her top billowed out.

We left the theater, walking back out into the humid August air. I led Max farther down 4th, pointing out a few places of interest like the library and market, before turning onto Pepper Street. I noted Sara’s Diner as we strolled, mentioning their phenomenal pancakes and waffles, before bringing her to the Lonely Hearts Club. She looked up at the Beatles-inspired sign hanging overhead.

“The Lonely Hearts Club? Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, the owner is a huge fan of the Fab Four, wait til you see his memorabilia collection,” I continued, “but more importantly, wait until you have the food.”

“Good stuff?”

“Super good,” I nodded emphatically.

We found a booth by the window, and I waved hello to Jimmy at the bar as Max marveled at the walls and ceilings, nearly completely covered in everything Beatles.

“This place is so fucking cool,” Max said, taking in the room.

“Right?” I agreed. “Hey, some of the servers here go to your school, do you want to be outed as a teacher or do you want to stay incognito for now?”

“Nah, it’s cool, I don’t mind,” Max replied just in time as a cute young lady came up to us to take our orders.

“Hey Cory, how’s it going?” our waitress greeted me with familiarity, as I was no stranger to the LHC.

“Hey Sadie, good to see you!” I replied.

“Wait – is Sadie your real name or does every server have to have a Beatles-themed name?” Max asked.

“Real name,” Sadie laughed.

“Like I said, Jimmy’s a big fan,” I gestured toward our tall blonde server, “and Sadie is his kid.”

“Ah, got it. Sadie, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Max, though I suspect that I’ll end up being Miss Perry to you,” Max noted Sadie’s quizzical look and added, “I’m going to be teaching social studies at Abington and I see you’re sporting your ‘Class of 2017’ shirt.”

“Oh, cool! Nice to meet you!” Sadie shook Max’s hand. “Do you have any senior classes?”

“Yep, I’m teaching the Poli-Sci survey course, and I’m the new swimming coach,” Max answered.

“Sweet! I’m on the team! Are you going to be at practice tomorrow?” Sadie excitedly xslot Giriş asked.


“Oh, this is too awesome! Our last coach was a little bit on the older side and I don’t think we did as well as we could’ve last year,” Sadie offered.

After some more small talk about swimming, we put in our orders and I fielded Max’s question about the town. Her initial concern about it being smaller than she was used to was quickly assuaged as I told her about all the things to do in town, what there is to see in the mountains nearby, and that the city was only about a 40 minute drive away. She was particularly pleased to hear about the thriving arts scene, and that our mayor was a progressive local business owner with no party ties.

“Well, shit, I’ve stumbled upon a little slice of paradise, haven’t I,” she queried, a bemused smile on her face as she continued checking out the decor.

“I’d say so,” I sighed happily, “I really love it here.”

Our meals came, and I dug into my favorite, the Jojo Tucson, a Southwestern style salad with a lime vinegarette to die for. Max meanwhile was doing some damage to the Ob La Di, Jimmy’s version of a BLT with avocado. As we ate, we continued to catch up.

“Listen, Max, why don’t you just crash with me for awhile? I have a huge place to myself and I think you’d be a great roommate,” I offered.

“Dude, seriously? I don’t want to cram your style,” she replied.

“No worries at all,” I explained, “It’s a big place, plenty of room for us to do our own thing but plenty of opportunities to hang.”

“Dude, that would be awesome!” she exclaimed. “I already have an Airbnb booked for tonight and tomorrow, but after that I’m good.”

“Perfect, that gives me a little time to straighten up a bit.”

“Dude, seriously, this is awesome.” Max looked around. “All of this is so awesome, I can’t imagine how this day could’ve gone any better.”

“Well, want to see Sleigh Bells tonight?”

Max just laughed. She couldn’t get over the serendipitous events of the day. Shortly thereafter, Jimmy came over to introduce himself and found a kindred spirit in Max as they shared their love for John, Paul, George, and Ringo. I was treated to another glimpse of Max’s undergarments as she lifted her bralette just enough for us to see her tattoo: a short bit of fun script just beneath her left breast that read “Ob La Di.” Jimmy, of course, had to show off his Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band drum tattoo on his bicep. Before I could show off my tattoos, Sadie came back with the check, eager to finish her shift to get ready for the concert (she was also attending with her best friend Hannah). We paid our bill, and headed back to the theater to get things ready and meet the band.

Three weeks had passed and life was grand. Max was fully enveloped in her new role as a teacher and as the swim coach. I had quickly, and happily, adjusted to having someone else around the house.

Like I told Max, my place is huge. I bought one floor of a building that had once been an architecture firm about a hundred years before. The main space of my house included what was the company’s breakroom, now my kitchen and dining room, and the drawing room, now my living room with massive windows overlooking the street below. The back of the place, to the left when you walk in the door, is the hall that leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The master bedroom had plenty of space for my king bed, a decent size wardrobe, a bureau, and my trusty old trunk. From the bedroom you get to the walk-through closet that leads to the bathroom, what I considered the crown jewel. A walk in shower with space for a party of four and enough shower heads to cover them all was abutted by a large soaking tub with jacuzzi jets that was situated at a massive picture window overlooking the river valley and, in the distance, the mountains. It took some convincing to get Max to believe I hadn’t won the lottery and that money goes a long way around here.

Max took up residence in the second bedroom, across the hall from mine. Her bedroom featured a queen, four poster bed and a bay window with the same view as my bathroom. She turned the window into a cozy little reading nook, adding cushions and a light. She used the second bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, which served its purpose but was nothing fancy. The third bedroom was mostly empty, with my music gear shoved into the closet, save for a guitar and a bass on their stands.

On this particular morning, I was up early with intentions of getting back into a regular gym schedule, something that had fallen by the wayside since Max moved in. It hadn’t yet, but it soon would occur to me that this is the first time since school started that I would be awake before Max. Most days, I’d be lucky to catch her before she left for work, as the hours of a theater owner and a teacher differ ever so slightly. But on this morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping my coffee and reading the newspaper when Max emerged from the hallway.

Her xslot Güncel Giriş hair still disheveled from the previous night’s slumber, Max seemed barely awake as she finished what must’ve been a big yawn and stretch. I looked up just in time to see her arms fall to her sides, and with them, her shirt back in place. I wasn’t 100% sure, but I was willing to bet that she was only wearing panties under her shirt. The shirt itself offered quite the view. It was a tank top that looked like it would fit me, and thus was quite loose on Max. The fabric hung from her pert breasts nicely, accentuating her nipples in their braless state.

“Mornin'” she mumbled as she passed me by, heading to the cabinet to retrieve a mug for coffee. As she stood on her toes to reach a mug, I couldn’t stop from emitting a gasp. Her tank top rode up revealing the lower curves of her bare ass cheeks. She was either rocking a thong or going commando under that shirt, and that glimpse of her butt was the most skin I had ever seen from her. It wasn’t unusual to catch peeks of her underwear from time to time, but this was new territory. Luckily, I tore my eyes away from her cute little butt in time to catch a quick view of some side boob through the overly generous arm hole of her shirt.

I gaped at Max as she poured a cup of coffee, stirred in some sugar and half and half and popped a bagel in the toaster. Each movement seemed like it would fully expose her breast, yet somehow her shirt defied all laws of physics and kept her nipples from popping out. I could feel my dick rapidly hardening and developing a tent in my shorts as she leaned back on the counter to face me. She brought her mug to her lips and I could see her eyes light up as she took her first sip of coffee.

“You’re up early,” she smiled.

“Yeah, wanted to put in some quality time at Ford’s before work, I’ve been slacking.” Ford’s is the gym in town, my friend Malcolm opened it shortly before I moved to town.

“You have always kept yourself in great shape,” she mused as she continued to sip her morning brew.

“I do what I can,” I blushed a bit as I took note of my appearance. My shorts were a thin, loose material, basically boxer shorts that came down a bit closer to the knee. My shirt, a ratty Kennison State tee, had long ago lost its sleeves and had worn quite thin. I shifted in my seat, realizing that if Max could see under the table from where she was standing, she would probably see the tent my erection had pitched. I doubted she could actually see under the table from there, but better safe than sorry.

Max’s bagel popped out of the toaster, and she turned to butter it. I was treated to even tinier peeks of her backside as she buttered her bagel, and I marveled every moment. I was, for the briefest second, disappointed when she stopped, assuming my show was over. Instead, she turned to the side and returned the butter and half and half to the fridge, in the process bending over. Her shirt fell forward in such a way that was equal parts tantalizing and agonizing. Agonizing because her arm mostly obstructed my view of her tits, but tantalizing because I got a complete side view of her right leg and her ass, confirming that she was not wearing panties beneath her shirt.

Max adjusted her shirt and brought her bagel and coffee over to the table. I tried my hardest not to watch her orange-sized boobs bounce with each step, but mostly failed. The coolness of the fridge had her nipples standing at attention and they were impossible to ignore. Max sat cross-legged on the bench across from me and it was some kind of exquisite torture knowing that, were it not for the table, I’d have an unobstructed view of her womanhood.

The thought of the scene below the table coupled with the sneak peeks I had been getting thus far flicked a switch in my head. Rational thought was gone, sex brain had fully taken control. My cock was rock hard and, though it was likely a trick played by my excessive horniness, I could have sworn I could smell the faintest hint of her pussy. Were I a cartoon, steam would be coming from my ears. I hastily excused myself, making an excuse that I needed a pre-workout stretch, and did my best to stand in a way that hid my throbbing erection that was now capped by a small wet spot of precum. Max didn’t seem to notice as she picked up my discarded newspaper a nibbled at her bagel.

I went straight to my room, closed the door, and was naked in seconds. My hand immediately went to work on my cock, which somehow felt like it was trying to get harder. I couldn’t remember ever being so turned on. I didn’t even bother grabbing lube from my bedside table, instead spitting on my dick as I leaned on my bedroom door pumping away. I pictured the little bits of Max’s ass I had seen, the side of her smallish yet perfectly sized breast, and her nipples straining to reach the fresh air and sunlight just beyond the thin fabric of her tank top. I also tried to imagine what it would look like to put all of those pieces together, and finally see her naked. Within minutes, my cum was arcing from the head of my cock to my hardwood floor, initially landing close to four feet away before the last few spurts landed at my feet. I let out a huge sigh of pleasure and began to sink to the floor when a knock startled me from my orgasm-induced stupor.

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