About a month after my first date with Murphy, I just had to see her again. Working hard to pull it together I scored a consulting job that would put me in Hinsdale Illinois, about thirty minutes from her, for a couple days.
I could become addicted to Murphy. Her Irish strength of purpose and seriously good looks are captivating. There’s a character, Nellie Coyne, in Andrew Greeley’s novels that I associate with Murphy. The character is a hazel-eyed redhead, a woman with considerable command of presence who reeks of sexual power and chemistry. The Coyne character is unattainable, and Murphy nearly so depending on the whim of a husband who enjoys sharing her on occasion. She too, is a hazel-eyed redhead.
In another reality Murphy might’ve been a nun for her avocation is one of self sacrifice, self-effacement and strict obedience to a superior. The difference is that she relishes wringing baby-batter from a stiff cock more than a nun might enjoy scrubbing a floor or teaching an obsolete catechism to a roomful of bored 5 th grade kids. I’m imagining her as Sister Mary Murphy, from Our Lady of Bodily Charms. She ministers to those entrusted to her care and she does so joyfully, adroitly, dragging her body through the muck and mire of human sexuality to leave men spent. Is the deeply relaxed well being we call pussy-whipped comparable to the Catholic construct called a state of grace? Both conditions bring peace of mind – maybe so.
Perhaps God in His wisdom blessed Murphy and said, “I made you to fuck, to be attached to a cock, many cocks. You are for man’s pleasure and for you to take pleasure in doing that well.” Perhaps God had a woody the day she was conceived.
A shrink might wish to write a white paper on Murphy. He might divine a Freudian basis for her proclivities. Perhaps he’d wax philosophical on her rebellion against a repressive, chastising, hypocritical Catholicity where girls having ‘impure’ thoughts were tramps and whores, while their priests are fucking kids and somehow that’s acceptable. He might want to write about Oedipal impulses and parenting. Whatever his loftiness for a scientific paper in the journals, his opus might never reach peer review or publication. Why? I’m imagining Murphy on his patient couch with her skirt ‘accidentally’ open just enough. Her panties might just be off to one side revealing her fleshy, engorged labia. Putting herself on display excites Murphy and so, as the session wore on, her heady musk would permeate the room. Perhaps her own feminine bouquet is blended with the pungent scent of semen from a man she was directed to service before her visit to the shrink. With his mentality reshaped by the compelling sight of a supine Murphy, her charms wet and ready, and the disquieting aromas of her nether regions, might a man abandon strict canons of medical ethics and discharge his testicles deeply, almost violently, into her body? Would he succumb to a desperate effort to displace whatever sperm was in her body with his own? He would ever catch-on that Murphy was directed to seduce him?
That’s Murphy and I just had to see her again. This trip I ‘borrowed’ Murphy for a day and a night. We drove north for a tourist trek along Chicago’s Lakeshore Drive. We sculpted the fantasy like we were on a honeymoon. We walked as lovers, spoke as lovers, shared meals as lovers, held each other as lovers and fucked like alien beasts on amphetamines.
Our first stop was the John Shed Aquarium, where we enjoyed the sensuality of huge water animals gliding nearly effortlessly through the clear water. I hugged Murphy warmly from behind, the scent of her hair and the closeness of her soft body driving wood unseen but turgid against her bottom. Sometimes Murphy would push back against it, nearly driving me wild. My arms around her placed my hands atop her full breasts and when no one was near I’d let them slip lower for a finger to stray against the side of an erect nipple. There was something about the sharks that seemed to bolster the sensuality in both of us. I think it was the power in those creatures and the inherent danger they might pose but not for the thick glass of the tank wall.
Our next stop was the planetarium where the soft ethereal music and darkness of a star show gave occasion for soft kisses and intimate touches unseen by our fellow ‘stargazers.’ I’ve had a bad habit of falling asleep during such shows with my wife over the years but touching Murphy had me anything but sleepy!
A classical concert was scheduled at the Grant Park and coincidentally it was Ravel’s ‘Bolero” a pulsing, heady mix of sensual music and so rather than have dinner in a quiet restaurant we opted to pick up sandwiches, fruit and wine to picnic in the park. Buckingham Fountain was lit beautifully and the increasingly dramatic music had me wondering if I could hold back from humping Murphy right there on the lawn.
Our kisses certainly were gathering intensity as were others in the crowd. I half-wondered if a huge orgy might erupt! Bolero is powerful music and Murphy… well, she’s more intoxicating than the wine.
We left the park and went to our hotel. Passion was on hold for a few minutes because we both had to pee but I had champagne sent up from Room Service. The delivery guy looked young and virile but I gave Murphy a look that told her in no uncertain terms that she was all mine this night. If she was disappointed, it didn’t show. I poured champagne and raised a glass in a toast that only a certain kind of bride wants to hear on her honeymoon, “I want you, you fucking Gaelic bitch, now get undressed and suck me.” Murphy smiled broadly and began to undress. Obscenely, I ‘dropped me tweeds’, as the Celtics say, took Murphy’s glass and dipped my cockhead into it. In that short span of time, Murphy was down to a black lace bra, wispy panties, black lace thigh highs and she was suckling my cock like a hungry baby on the breast. She cupped my balls with one hand as she stroked my cock with the other. Not wanting to come too soon I backed her off. And moved Murphy to the bed where I slid her panty to one side and plunged tongue-first into her folds. I vowed that this woman would come at least twice before I sunk my cock into her. “Do you like this?” I growled.
“Yes!” Murphy replied between gasps.
“Tell me then, make me know how much you like it, your voice excites me.”
Thus began a litany of sexual dialogue between Murphy and me.
“Oh fuck” “Yes” “Oh my god” “Oh you’re lightly stretching my inner lips and it’s making me want to scream” “Yes, my clit, suck it” “Yes”
If Murphy went too long without telling me how good it felt or how much she wanted to come I’d slap her ass – not hard enough to hurt – but enough to command her attention. Murphy came and I kept punishing her with my tongue. I was water-boarding her girl parts in sweet torture until she came a second time, with a muffled scream as she bit her lip almost until it bled.
I yanked the panties off of Murphy’s fine ass. They came off undamaged but I really didn’t care at that point. Her bra went next and there she was in all her wanton glory, mine to fuck, suck and fuck some more. I put a pillow under Murphy’s ass and mounted her missionary style. Deliberately, I slid my cock along her swollen lips and clit but did not enter her.
“You want this?” I taunted her.
“Yes”
“Where?” I said.
“You know where”
“Fuck you, you wonderful slutty thing, tell me exactly where you want my prick!”
“Inside me”
“Inside your ass?”
“No, you know where.”
“Where, tell me!” I commanded and gave her thigh a mild slap.
“In my pussy.”
“In your where? “ I continued teasing
“My vagina.”
“You mean your cunny?”
“Yes, you know that.”
“Say it!”
“Say what?”
Say exactly where you want my prick you teasing bitch and I want to hear your dirty talk.”
“My cunny.” Murphy took the lead. “Ram that prick into my hot cunny, my hole, my cunt, whatever you want to call it but please fuck me now!”
I took Murphy slowly at first and tweaked and suckled her nipples as I probed her with my dick. Soon the pace was picking up and words – dirty words- flowed easily between us. Soon I changed positions to doggie style and I pulled Murphy’s hips to me. I realized that Murphy was used to having a cock in her mouth and one in her pussy with this position but from her thrusting and cursing she sure didn’t seem bored with only one cock and one possibly older than her father's no less.
We fucked and taunted for ten minutes or so and then the end was near. Like the savage intensity of the last bars of the Bolero concert I humped like either the world’s salvation or my damnation depended upon it and I felt Murphy’s orgasm take her over. Seconds later, my own orgasm arrived with the impact of a grand mal seizure nearly knocking us off the bed. My genitals released like jets of fire as my balls and penis emptied into Murphy. I fell onto the bed beside her and Murphy rolled over beside me. I pulled Murphy in for a cuddle and she held me off for a second to place a pillow beneath her hips again. “I want to keep your come inside me for awhile longer,” she said. We cuddled and I told Murphy over and over what a good girl she is. I told her she is a good, loving and giving girl with a slutty, perverse, libido to make any man proud of her whoring and cocksucking.
We slept through the night, and awoke to make love again before breakfast. It was with great reluctance that I drove Murphy home but she seemed excited and happy to be there. I think Murphy wanted to show her husband the come dried on her thighs and suffer the consequences of raising his ire and his lust.
The man is one lucky bastard, as am I.
