Trust Me

His hand snaked over her arm before his hand rested onto her full breast and his finger made small circular motions around her nipple feeling it erect once more.

"We can do this," he whispered, as his hand travelled slowly down over her taut, tanned stomach and towards her glistening pubic hair, matted with his cum deposited there only a few minutes earlier.

Tara turned her head away from him and stared at the bedroom wall. At times his apparent callousness turned her cold; at others his ability to dissimulate aroused her incredibly.

By the time his finger was entering her soaking channel she knew, once again, that she would agree to anything he suggested, as she had that first time when he had slipped into her bedroom, unbidden, and their illicit relationship had begun.

She had just turned eighteen, as if he had awaited his moment, when she had looked up at him standing close to her bed and watched, mesmerised, as he pulled the covers slowly off her and feasted his eyes on her naked form. Although she knew it was wrong she hadn't stopped him as his hand stroked over her, caressing her breasts before moving down and cupping her still virginal cunt.

She had moaned, almost involuntarily voicing her encouragement to him, as his finger had invaded her and, as his other hand began unbuttoning his shirt and then unzipping his jeans, it seemed almost natural that her first foray into a sexual relationship would be with the person she had grown up with. His cock had seemed so very big as it entered first her mouth then that tight secret place she had been brought up to believe was reserved for the marital bed . . . how naïve she had been.

As he had taken her virginity, gently, lovingly, she knew, in the precise moment his ejaculate filled the reservoir of the tightly encased condom, that she was his, forever.

But this was different. What he was proposing contravened all the laws of God and man . . . for money.

"Do you want to be old and rich, or young and rich? What's it to be?"

"Neither, I only want to be with you." she replied.

"What . . . stolen moments in hotels or when 'they' decide to go out, is that what you want? Is it?" he said harshly.

"No, of course not, but to do what you suggest . . . I don't know if I can."

"You don't have to. Just make two phone calls, that's all you have to do. I'll do the rest."

"Do you hate them so much, Jason?"

"No, I just love you more, that's all. With the money we can go to South America . . . anywhere, and be man and wife like you always wanted."

"I know, but what if we get caught? I could never survive jail . . . I know I couldn't."

"We won't get caught, my darling, I have it all planned. In a few weeks we'll be rich, and free to do whatever we want, trust me."

"I do trust you, Jason, but I'm so frightened . . . hold me, tell me it will be ok."

He rolled over onto her and as his cock, still wet from their combined fluids, entered her he whispered, once again, "Trust me, Tara, trust me."

Her hand slid down his broad muscular back and onto his buttocks pulling him deeper into her, his cock fitting perfectly into the channel their parent's DNA had deemed for her, as if it knew what the future would bring. No longer a thin sleeve of latex to separate them, she had gone on the pill months earlier. Now the feel of his sperm shooting high onto her cervix could send her into paroxysms of pleasure and, she believed, always would. She would agree to anything just to feel him inside her, filling her, his pubic bone pounding at her sensitive clitoris, until she came, explosively.

* * * * *

"It's next week," he said, as he lay his head back onto the pillow and stared intently at a small discolouration on the ceiling, avoiding her eyes and the condemnation he knew would appear there.

She removed his erect cock from her mouth and after licking the length of his hard shaft smiled up at him. "What's next week?"

"When we do it," he replied.

Her hand halted its movement up and down his shaft and her eyes travelled the length of his torso to his face trying to lock onto his, but he still avoided her look.

"What's next week?" she repeated, knowing the answer but needing him to say it, and dreading his reply.

"Next week we'll be rich . . . we agreed."

She swung her legs off the bed and walked slowly to the full length mirror in the corner of the room and stared at his reflection, hoping for a smile or grin, anything to tell her he was only joking; but he was still peering intently at the ceiling as if searching for something hidden in the undulations of the stippled effect plaster. His cock was still hard, waiting for her to finish what she had started, waiting to direct the full load filling his balls into the back of her throat, as he liked, but she had more pressing things to think about now.

"I didn't think you meant it, not really. Say you're joking, Jason, please say you're joking."

"We have to do it," he said, joining her at the mirror, his cock pushing into the cleft of her buttocks, his head resting on her shoulder.

"We can't live like this . . . they both have to die, you understand, don't you?"

She didn't reply, concentrating only on his cock which was pushing urgently at her, and she leant forward supporting herself on the sides of the mirror as it slid into her still moist cunt. As his hips swung driving him deeper and deeper on each stroke he began to outline his plan, whispering quietly into her ear, each salient point punctuated by a thrust until her impending orgasm caused his words to recede into muffled mutterings. He spun her around and quickly down onto her knees, his cock only just making the confines of her mouth and the recesses of her throat in time to deposit load after load of hot cum inside.

"And then we'll be rich," she heard him say through the haze of her orgasm, "richer than we ever believed we could be. Brazil, Mexico . . . anywhere you want to go, it's all ours for the taking."

She was still swallowing as she rose up in front of him and, resting her head onto his shoulder, whispered quietly into his ear, "Let's do it."

* * * * *

They sat in the lounge area of the large house as, for what seemed the tenth time, Jason detailed his plan to her. Timing was everything, he stressed, nothing must interrupt her actions; all she had to do was make two telephone calls.

"We could get someone else to do it, Jason, we needn't be involved. Say we could, Jason, please?" The desperation caused a catch in her voice, but his remained as resolute as ever.

"And be open to blackmail for the rest of our lives? Wherever we went, whatever we did, we would be wondering if someone had discovered what we'd done. Do you want to be watching every face . . . does he know? Has she worked it out? No . . . 'we' have to do this. No one else must be involved, only us. Look, all you have to do is make a couple of calls, that's it, I'll do the rest. Trust me."

How many times had he asked her to trust him, she thought, as if he felt the need to repeat it over and over again? She walked slowly towards the bay windows and looked out onto the rolling green lawns and down to the stream at the bottom of the garden and lit another cigarette, ignoring the one still smouldering in the glass ashtray.

"I'm smoking too much," she said, more to herself than him.

Jason stood and crossed the room to her pulling her tight against his body, her back moulding itself against his front. She felt the familiar pushing against her backside as his cock began to stir in his jeans.

"Not now, Jason, please not now," she whispered, drawing another lungful of toxic smoke deep inside.

"It'll help you relax," he said, as one hand slipped down to caress her mound while the other rubbed sensuously over her bra encased breasts.

She turned slowly, causing his hands to lose contact with her, and stepped away from him. "How can you think of sex now," she admonished, "while we're talking about killing our own parents?"

"It turns me on," he said, as he unzipped his jeans and drew out his already erect cock and begun wanking slowly in front of her.

"You can't be serious?" she muttered, her eyes only leaving the methodical stroking going on to watch as the glazed expression began to cover Jason's face.

It was as if another part of her consciousness had taken over and, after depositing anther barely smoked cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, she felt her hands stretching backwards to ease the zipper of her dress down before stepping forward naked, towards him.

He smiled as she sunk down to her knees feeding his rampant cock deep into her mouth and sucking greedily on him. Her own hand moved down over her soft downy pubic hair and began teasing at her clit before a finger dipped easily inside her silky folds.

Rising and turning she rested her hands onto the windowsill and felt his cock slide gently into her warm, welcoming chasm. As she stared over the immaculately manicured lawn she felt his thrusting becoming faster, deeper and within a few seconds heard his groan as he flooded her with his seed.

He withdrew and stepped back, his cock still dripping cum onto the carpet as she turned feeling his warm fluid running slowly down her thigh. She knew what he wanted, expected, and dropping once more to her knees took his cock into her mouth to lick it clean of his copious ejaculate.

She hadn't climaxed, and she needed to desperately, so sitting in a large armchair, her legs draped over the armrests, she began to masturbate. He watched, as with one hand she rubbed frantically at her erect nub while the other dipped and delved into her gaping opening.

Jason, his cock once more beginning to rise, began to wank, keeping time with his sister's stroking. He could feel the tingling of his approaching climax filling his groin and inched slowly towards her; straddling the chair he continued to rub at his erect organ, now inches from her face. Her mouth opened ready to receive his cum and once again he did not disappoint her, jet after jet hitting its target to be swallowed greedily and her mouth encased him, the remnants licked and savoured as before.

* * * * *

He stared intently at the second hand of his watch as it ticked around to 10:00 then picked up the handset and rang reception.

Susan had been waiting expectantly for his call; he always rang at this time for his nightcap, hating the whiskey the hotel provided in the mini-bar. It was also the time for his flirting and more, if he had the time. The warbling of the phone brought a smile to Susan' face and she turned away from the cctv monitors she had been watching intently and removed the handset.

She had been an avid viewer since she had spied one of the 'working girls' who frequented the hotel giving a bj in a hallway, it passed the time in an otherwise boring job and give her some hints, if she needed them. It had been months earlier when the manager, in a desperate attempt to bring in some much needed revenue, had stopped recording the 'action' in the hallways although the cameras were still there and functioning. He had stopped short of turning it into an 'anything goes' type of hotel, but only just. By making it known that taking one of the numerous 'ladies' who worked the area back to the room would neither be condemned nor recorded, business had certainly improved. "Hi, Susan, it's Jason, could you bring a whiskey up to my room, please?"

"Can't you come down for it, Jason. Since we put the wi-fi system in the hotel you businessmen spend more time lying on your bed than in the bar and the sheets in the morning are like cardboard, always knew you were a group of wankers."

"Now, now, Susan is that anyway to talk to a guest?" he laughed, "anyway you should know I save all my cum for you, not waste it on some white sheet."

"Ha, and do you expect me to believe that. I shouldn't leave the desk really, you know I shouldn't." "Yes, but be a nice girl, won't you?"

"Ok, but can I stay, if someone will cover for me?" she begged.

"No, staying wouldn't be a good idea, I've so much work and must get an early night, but tomorrow we can play all afternoon. I'll build up a nice load for you by then, how's that?"

"You've persuaded me, but only this once," she replied sulkily.

"Thanks, Susan, see you in a few minutes, ok?"

Susan picked up the already poured glass and walked quickly over to the lift. She had suggested, more than once, that he take his own bottle to the room, but he had remarked that the temptation to drink more than he should before a meeting would be too great. Anyway, it was a chance for her to earn some extra cash, after all why should she not share in the big bucks being made by the pros, she was as good as most of them, if not better.

He replaced the handset and waited until the soft knock at the door told him his drink, and Susan, had arrived. He opened the door and she slipped into the room, the drink in one hand, the other slowly opening her blouse.

"I can't", he whispered, "not tonight, tomorrow."

Her hand slid down and cupped the growing bulge in his trousers and he groaned loudly before pulling her hand gently away and unzipping himself. His cock was rock hard as she slipped to her knees to take him deep into her mouth. This was where he had to exercise more control than he had ever before and he pulled her upright.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I have to work, then we'll fuck all afternoon."

"I'll hold you to that, as well as other places." she laughed.

Jason smiled and glanced at his watch; even though his cock ached for her, now was not the time. He ushered her to the door almost tripping over the telephone cable to his laptop in his haste. She turned to leave giving him a flash of snow-white breast before buttoning up her blouse and winking broadly at him.

"Later then," she whispered.

Jason leant against the door, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, as he slipped an untraceable cell phone into his pocket. If everything went to plan in a few hours he'd be rich or condemned to a decade or more in one of Her Majesty's Prisons. For the first time he began to wonder which one it was to be.

Tara looked at her watch, almost midnight, and reached for her cell phone.

"Must call my parents and let them know I'll be home shortly," she announced to the girls squashed into the lounge of her closest friend's small cottage.

"Hi, mum," she said, "I'll be home in about fifteen minutes and no I'm not drunk. The girls will tell you, here, I'll put them on."

The cell phone was passed amongst the giggling crowd each one verifying Tara's assertion of her sobriety, and eventually she disconnected the call only to repeat the process calling the hotel in which her brother was staying.

Tara spoke first to the receptionist, "Hi there, I know it's late but could you put me through to my brother, Jason Thompson, I don't know his room number . . . you must be Susan."

The receptionist's reply was lost to the girls but after a few minutes of small talk with Susan they knew the call had been forwarded and her brother had answered. "Hi, Jason, I'm just calling you to let you know that the party's over and I'm going home with Jenny. No I'm not drunk, you're like mum. I'll prove it, here girls talk to Jason."

The cell phone was once again passed around and a conversation full of innuendo ensued between the girls and Jason who flirted wildly with each of them.

"Midnight," Tara announced, "Must go, you ready, Jenny?"

"Sure," Jenny answered and the two girls began the short walk back to Tara's home. It was exactly fifteen minutes past midnight when Tara inserted her key into the lock and swung the front door open. Even though Jason had explained everything the scene that confronted her was one neither she nor an equally distraught Jenny would ever forget.

Jenny screamed and threw up onto the hall carpet while Tara looked wide-eyed at her parent's bodies lying in pools of blood on the lounge floor.

* * * * *

"Both of them were killed by a single shot to the chest, sir," Constable James explained. "The daughter and her girlfriend found them about 12:15."

Inspector Brian Hall stood at the entrance to the lounge and allowed his expert eyes to survey the room, trying to take in as many details as possible without entering the crime scene.

"You didn't touch anything, did you?" He glared at the constable, "tell me now if you did."

"No, sir, I confirmed that they were dead and called it in, I touched nothing, except the bodies of course and just to check for a pulse."

"You better not have," he growled, "or you're finished. Where are the girls now?"

"In a neighbour's house," the constable gestured over to a large property, which could just be seen through the open front door.

"Did they say anything when you arrived?" the inspector enquired.

"Not about the murder, sir, they were too traumatised. The daughter mentioned a brother though who's staying in a hotel somewhere close, but I couldn't get much sense out of her, as you would expect."

"Go and speak to the daughter, what's her name?"

"Tara, sir."

"Ok, don't question her, I only want to know which hotel her brother is in, we'd better get him here, and take Constable Jones with you, you may need a policewoman to calm her down."

Brian Hall looked at his watch as the forensics team pulled up onto the drive, 01:45. Not bad, he thought, to have a full team on site within an hour and a quarter of a report was better than they usually did.

The inspector moved outside and watched as the 'experts' began to unload their equipment, totally ignoring him for the present until Dave Elliot, an old friend from past enquires, spotted him.

"Hi, Bri, solved it yet?"

"Sure," he answered, "the fuckin' butler did it."

"I can go home to bed then," Dave smiled ironically at the inspector.

"I wish," Brian replied, "I have a horrible feeling this is going to be a twat to solve."

"Oh yes, and why's that?" Dave enquired as he began to pull on a white coverall to protect the crime scene.

"Take a look yourself; it has all the hallmarks of a professional hit. Single shot to the chest, death instantaneous, and no witnesses. Now where's that fuckin' plod got to with that hotel's name."

Dave Elliot shrugged his shoulders and entered the house.

It was almost two o'clock when Constable James walked up the short drive accompanied by the policewoman who was obviously upset by her visit to the girls.

Brian watched as they approached shaking his head and wondering how good Jones, the policewoman, would be in a crisis.

"The brother's staying at Carlton hotel in Middlewich, sir."

"Good, well done, and take 'her' somewhere out of site of the media who no doubt are on their way here even as we speak," the Inspector replied gesturing towards the policewoman, "we don't want to make a bad impression this early in the investigation, do we?"

Constable James turned to go and then paused, which was not unnoticed by the inspector.

"I know you said not to interview the daughter, but she volunteered it."

"And what exactly did she 'volunteer'?" Inspector Hall asked, "I hope you haven't fucked anything up, James, or you're on traffic for the rest of your life, if you're lucky."

"No, sir, she blurted it out to us both," the constable said nodding to the policewoman who had stopped crying for a minute. "She said she talked to her mother at just before midnight and her brother at his hotel shortly after."

Brian Hall looked intently at the constable, "Did she ring either of them on their cell phones? Or did she not say?"

"She said she rang her mother on the home phone and her brother at the hotel via the reception desk. That puts the son out of the frame for this, doesn't it, sir? There's no way he could have spoken to the sister at midnight from the hotel and killed the parents within fifteen minutes, it's seventy miles at least, that's not possible."