It was 10:45 when the white Volvo turned onto her street. She stopped a few yards ahead of Murdoch when he stepped into the roadway and flagged her down.
'Murdoch. What's the matter? What are you doing here?'
He opened the driver's door and slid in behind the wheel. The same bossy deprecating tone took over her voice as she backed away from him on the seat. She demanded to know what he was up to, invoking the specter of Dan's fury if he didn't explain himself immediately. She seemed dumbfounded when Murdoch began mimicking her with 'Oh Todd! Oh Todd!... Oh!...Ohh! She looked astonished when he pressed the match book cover into her hand. The Lamb & Python embossed in gold letters brought a chill to her heart and a stammer to her voice.
'What's this?' she pretended.
Murdoch just smiled and told her to relax. He turned the car around and drove directly back to the lakefront. Long before he nosed the Volvo into the service laneway, Lauren knew what was up. When the car lurched to a halt in the same spot it had rested earlier, she was already crying.
'Are you going to tell Dan?' she whimpered.
'That depends on you.'
'Please don't. He couldn't stand it. He's too proud. It would finish our marriage.' 'Like I said. It's up to you. What are you prepared to do to keep me quiet?'
'Anything. I'll do anything, but please don't tell your brother,' she wept.
Murdoch felt a rush of new power. The exhilaration of having control over his snooty sister---in--law surged through him. Doubly sweet was the opportunity for a little pay back. He watched her closely as she brought her crying under control. Her composure returned and with it the haughty superiority he hated. She smoothed out her dress, and folded her hands in her lap. The perfect picture of comfortable wealth and respected propriety.
'You make a lot of noise when you come,' he began, deliberately renewing her distress.
Her hand covered her mouth and more tears rolled down her scarlet cheeks. 'What do you want Murdoch, Money?'
'No,' he grinned. 'I only get broke sometimes. But I get horny all the time.'
She swallowed hard and played with her fingers.
'Take off your dress and show me your goodies.'
Lauren looked anguished and pleaded, 'Please, I'm your brother's wife.'
'And you keep your cunt just for him?' he chided. 'It's a little late for that. You said you'd do anything. Anything to keep Dannyboy from finding out you've been fucking around on the side. So do it. Or, we can go back to your house and I'll tell him everything. It's up to you.'
Eyes cast to the side, she reached behind and drew down the zipper on her dress. It slipped off her arms as it had before and she unsnapped the brimming white bra. Her sensitive nipples were already hard by the time the night air touched them and Murdoch smiled at their arousal.
'Nice tits sis,' he teased. 'Kneel up on the seat and give me a nice close look.'
She did without complaint. On his instruction, she fondled them herself, squeezing the nipples and stretching them out to full distention. Her dress slipped off her hips and floated around her knees, exposing her thighs and the flowered panties. Carefully, she took it off and once again laid it on the back seat.
Murdoch leaned against the driver's door and stretched out along the seat. Lauren had no choice but to straddle his thighs with her knees. Too tall to kneel straight, she had to hunch over, extending her hands to the door sill behind him. Her beautiful breasts swung free and unprotected like soft, quivering melons.
He rolled the nipples in his palms, reminding her of how she moaned when Todd had licked them. His hand crept up the inside of her thigh and hooked a finger in the crotch of her panties. With a steady pressure, he pulled at them the way Todd had done in the restaurant. His finger duplicated the same motion and he began to describe what he'd been able to witness beneath the table cloth.
She was stunned by how much he had seen, and worried that others may have been watching too. Murdoch added to her concern by saying he was sure several people had enjoyed the same view. Lauren's face burned scarlet with embarrassment. But far more mortifying than Murdoch's words were the reactions of her own body.
His knuckle, gently nudging her clitoris, began to send treasonous sensations fluttering through her belly. She felt herself getting wet and knew there was no way to hide it from him. She knew it would make things worse, but it felt so good there was no will in her to stop it. She tried to make herself kneel still, but her hips swayed irrepressibly.
Confidence in her own self-control was leaving her. Lauren had long despised Murdoch for what he was, and now she hated him for the control he had over her. Yet that same control was lighting fires of want across her exposed flesh. She felt dishonored by his crude language and yet she was incredibly aroused by it. The slight graze of her nipples against his stubbled chin made her breath hiss. She craved the touch of his lips on the distended buds; curved her back lower to press the soft flesh against his face. The unthinkable was imminent.
She wanted Murdoch. Yet this was no Dan; no suave gentleman to whisper about 'making love to his princess'. This was Murdoch. Murdoch the ne'er do well. Murdoch the rude. Murdoch the foul mouth who coveted her 'tits'. The same Murdoch who now called her slut and cocksucker for what he'd watched her do with Todd.
She was so aroused, the scent of her sex filled the car. When he told her he could smell it, she groaned aloud at his lack of gallantry. She whimpered when he said he'd smelled it before. At the wedding. When they'd danced.
'Guys can always smell a wet cunt,' he proclaimed. 'And women often cream their pants when they dance. Feeling a woman's pussy after a dance is called 'petting the skunk' he informed.
He asked her if she'd like to take her panties off. She nodded 'yes' and immediately felt shamed by her own admission. All vestiges of her virtue slid down her thighs along with the flimsy garment. The abundant wetness between her legs had begun to seep onto her thighs. Her womb ached for the thickness of a man to fill her silky sheath. In the cool night air, the soft, wet petals of her pink flesh stood open like welcoming gates. And just above, the slippery beacon of her desire rolled back its hooded cape and hungered for attention.
Murdoch smirked at the new Lauren perched above him. Her nakedness swayed and undulated with unencumbered desire. She was ready and eager for whatever he demanded. Her impatient hands had already begun to pull at his clothing, fumbling urgently with belt, button and zipper. It made him feel powerful. All of the derision she'd made him endure in the past could now be requited.
He raised his hips and she tugged his shorts onto his thighs. Her hands, warm and urgent, worshipped his genitals. She tried to find his mouth with hers but was denied by a turn of his head.
'I don't want my mouth where Todd's cock has been,' he sneered, making her feel whorish and cheap
Dropping down she sucked his nipples through the mat of hair on his chest. She moved lower again, laving his belly with her tongue. Her hands cupped his testicles and expertly stroked his prick. She pressed his cock against her cheek like a cherished thing; nuzzled its length with tender kisses; wrapped it in her softness; blew warm breath across the head.
Her tongue flicked gingerly along the base of the frenum teasing the most sensitive part.. Murdoch was incredulous as he watched her. For the second time that night she was naked, sucking a man's cock -- a man other than her husband. All of the puritanical airs and pretense, the priggishness, had fallen away from Lauren as surely as her clothes.
Lauren closed her warm mouth over him and sent exquisite shivers through his belly. She knew how good she was. How powerless it made a man when she sucked in that certain way. The addictive lure of her mouth on a man's prick had never failed to get her what she wanted. And right now she wanted Murdoch. Murdoch's breath hissed between his teeth as she fluttered her tongue across his knob.
'Oh... you little cocksucker' he muttered. The words made him grin with satisfaction. And there was no reproach from Lauren for his 'street language'. He loved watching her perfect hair falling forward, sweeping sensuously against his thighs and belly; her regal head bobbing over his prick. The red enamel of her manicured nails scraped lightly over his balls. She listened to the little sighs and moans that escaped from him and tried to imagine the effect she was having.
'Men love getting their cock in a woman's mouth,' she thought. 'But a smart woman can suck power and control right out through his dick.'
He wanted to see her face. To watch her ovalled lips. His prick sliding to the back of her throat. She was on top of him, pressing down on him. Murdoch wanted her outside, naked and bowed, exposed, and vulnerable.
The dome light flooded the interior of the Volvo as they scrambled out into the moonlight. Murdoch pressed her naked body against the cool metal of the car. His hand plundered her mound, fingering her sopping wetness with a possessive greed. Lauren's touch never left his hardness. One velvet hand weighed his balls and the other shamelessly urged his prick, exhorting his lust. She arched her back toward him.
The succulent flesh of her breasts swayed irresistibly in the moonlight compelling his mouth to seek her rampant nipples. She held them up for him and he sucked gluttonously. They were the nicest tits Murdoch had ever seen. And she was the sexiest woman. Transformed from the snotty bitch who'd rebuked him for looking, reproached him for swearing, she now yearned for his cock. He could feel it in her touch, see it in her moves, hear it in her every breath. It was Lauren the priss. Lauren the snob. Lauren the horny cunt writhing naked in the moonlight begging for cock.
