Liam noticed his brother hustling Mrs. Hardy into the kitchen, but was unaware of the unfolding drama. His entire attention was on his stepmother. She was staring at him; her sexual intent evident upon her face had anyone looked at her. Fortunately for them both, no one noticed.
Sandra beckoned him with three fingers, their agreed upon signal. He knew she would slip away and expect him to follow in thirteen minutes (he never understood why it had to be thirteen, but she was insistent on this point).
Swallowing the shit-eating grin he knew would give him away, he swirled his drink and pretended to be contemplating the vagaries of death instead of the life-affirming force of sexual release awaiting him.
Just when he thought he would explode at time for dragging on so slowly, the hands of the clock told him it was time for his assignation. Slowly wending his way through the anticipatory crowd (what exactly was going on?), he slipped out the front door. He knew she wouldn't want to go back into the backyard again, so he wracked his brain as to what place Sandra would most likely be.
Seeing his father's large silver Chevy truck parked across the street, he leered appreciatively. Knowing Sandra's bend towards kink, he figured she was laying spread eagle in the back seat, playing with her clit, letting her juices soak into the fabric. There was nothing more of a guaranteed turn on for her then knowing they were fucking in place his father would use every day.
He still remembered the scorching sex they had a few weeks ago in Sandra's marital bed, minutes before his father was due home. She'd made him pull out of her ass before he was ready to come and masturbate against his father's pillow. When he was on the verge, she'd directed him to spurt his come onto her breasts and face, and then she'd rubbed it into her skin before dressing. He wondered if his father had tasted his cum when he kissed his naughty wife upon his return.
Sure enough, as he neared the truck he could hear faint rustling noises and a soft mewing. He fumbled underneath for the spare key and sighed when his questing fingers felt the square box. Unlocking the door he found Sandra lying on her back as he imagined, skirt shoved far above her waist, one hand working her clit, the other pushing in and out of her sopping hole.
"Liam, 'bout fucking time!"
"No Sandra," he corrected softly, "it's time for fucking." She glared up at him then grudgingly laughed at his witticism.
She didn't even bother undressing him, but merely unzipped his pants and shoved them down far enough so his cock could pop out. His standing position was at a perfect angle for her mouth, so she flipped over and crawled to him. Hungrily she attacked it with her mouth, sucking strongly until the tip hit the back of her throat, a special trick he still loved after all this time.
"Fuck, Sandra, I didn't even close the door! Anyone could see us."
She raised her head from his dick and shrugged eloquently. He knew she was daring him to fuck her where anyone passing by would be able to tell what they were doing. Lately she'd gotten bolder and bolder, wanting him to fuck her from behind while his father was in the other room or jacking him off under the table when the family sat at Sunday dinner.
When she lightly scratched his balls with her fingernails, he knew he was lost. Feeling a need to somewhat control this situation, he grabbed her hair and twisted the long blonde strands until he controlled her movements.
"Hmn, handlebars."