The Blizzard

Geoff murmured "Sorry," but didn't move away. I don't think he could and I quickly realised that this was less than an ideal situation. His erect cock was now between my legs and although not actually touching, the head had to be less than an inch from my pussy. I could certainly feel the heat radiating from it.

Up until that moment it was all about survival and making the best of it but suddenly I realised I was in a potentially sexual situation. Ever since Clive and I met I'd never once considered cheating on him. I'm not saying that I didn't notice exceptionally good looking men or fail to appreciate a chiselled torso when guys took off their shirts, but I'd never once felt any tremor of desire. OK, trying to be completely honest I have indulged in the occasion fantasy but everybody in entitled to those.

This was different. I was completely naked and sharing a very constricted space with the equally naked muscled physique of a complete stranger, a naked stranger whose large rampant cock was only centimetres away from my vulnerable cunt. Suddenly it felt as if every nerve ending in my body had chosen to migrate to the area of my vulva. I realised that I was trembling all over but managed to control that by concentrating on turning my heavy breathing into more of a sleep pattern. "I love my husband, I love my husband," I repeated as a mantra in my head, as I waited for sleep to protect me from temptation.

Sleep would not come but at first I thought that Geoff had succumbed far easier than I, until I realised that his breathing pattern had the same artificiality as my own. A few moments before I had become aware of moisture between my legs and tried to dismiss it as having no relevance. Now that I knew Geoff was still awake and undoubtedly struggling with the same thoughts as I, that slight moisture became a definite wetness, a wetness that might easily turn into a flood.

I'm not sure how long we lay there fighting to control our mutual desire. I could feel the tension, both my own and that radiating from him. The only way I could control my runaway libido was to try to keep an image of my loving trusting husband in front of my eyes. Suddenly Geoff coughed then moved as if in sleep but effectively brought his organ even closer to my wet slit. I'm not sure whether we actually touched or not but if not the distance separating our hot flesh was less than a cigarette paper thickness.

Determined not to show any response to his action, I lay there hardly daring to breath. I tried to swallow but found that my throat was extremely parched. Only a little distance away from the top of the sleeping bag, I knew there was an almost full bottle of water and calculated that I could creep out to grasp the water and be back in the warm within less than thirty seconds. I didn't move and much later, analysing, I realised that this had been the moment of truth, a truth which invalidated all my subsequent excuses for my behaviour. The reason that I had deliberately forgone refreshment was that I knew leaving the refuge of the sleeping bag would break the spell and allow more rational minds to take charge.

It was as if I had suddenly acquired a split personality. On the one hand there was the loyal wife head, willing to fight to preserve the fidelity that my loving husband deserved and on the other, a primeval female head urging me to let instinct take control. Genetic urges were definitely winning. All I could think about was what that hot cock would feel like inside me; the huge cock of a man that I didn't know existed little more than two scant hours before. Maybe I just wanted to reward him for saving my life, reward him in a way that only a woman can. The validity of that is somewhat tarnished by the fact that I was to go on rewarding him, time and time again.

Taking a deep breath, I moved my hips away from him, as far as I could. My married head cheered this as sign of resistance but deep down I knew that I was simply creating a better angle if Geoff decided to thrust himself into me. Next moment he almost did. Accompanied by a contrived snore, Geoff moved his body forward, recapturing lost ground and finishing with the broad head of his penis pressing hard against the lips of my vulva. Had I been dry there it would have stayed, but I was far from dry. I think that both my benefactor and I knew that the result of that pressure was inevitable but neither of us made the slightest move to hurry events.

I think that those moments waiting for the penetration were the longest of my life. My husband's thinner weapon would have slipped in far more quickly but Geoff's girth needed to make space in which to go. Suddenly there was a breakthrough and he penetrated for about half his length but there was a long pause of well over a minute with neither of us moving, still feigning sleep, before it slowly slid in the rest of the way. I had never felt so full, even using the large dildo that my husband I played with occasionally. Again there was a long pause before he started moving and then only slowly. I quickly picked up on his rhythm and started pushing myself back at him to meet every thrust. After about ten minutes with no real increase in speed Geoff suddenly stopped and made a noise which sounded like a mixture of a loud bellow and a deep seated moan. At the same moment, as if a hose pipe had been stuck up my vagina, I felt a tidal wave of hot semen flooding throughout my loins in a succession of jets that at one point seemed unending.

I think that the experience took both of our breaths away because neither of us either spoke or moved for so long that, to ease the awkwardness I was beginning to feel, I said lightly, "Somebody's been saving up."

"Almost two years, not since before..."

The catch in his voice at the end of the sentence made me realise that it was not since his wife, so I involuntarily fumbled behind me to find his hand and squeezed it.

We lay not speaking, both I think concentrating on our genital areas as his wonderful cock gradually shrunk and then slipped out of me. I was floating in a glow of satisfied contentment until Geoff spoiled the moment by apologising. "I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that and I'm sorry," he murmured, "I thought I had more self control but it's been so long."

"It's not your fault," I reassured him, "I wanted it just as much as you, I would have stopped you otherwise. I'm so glad that I didn't because it was fantastic, possibly the best sex of my life."

Geoff acknowledged my words by running a finger lightly down my back but otherwise didn't say anything more. It was not long into the ensuing silence that I realised that I had a problem in that his copious ejaculation had started to leak out of me and I knew that by morning I would be lying in a large wet patch, probably ruining the thermal quality of his sleeping bag in the process. I had always prided myself on my knack for improvisation, so now I reached out to retrieve my discarded panties which I quickly placed between my legs, pushing some up inside my vagina to form a rudimentary plug.

That simple action brought the sordid side of sex to the fore and I waited for the guilt trip to begin. My action had just ensured that I would spend the night, full to the brim with another man's cum. What greater betrayal could there be, especially given my poor loyal husband's overwhelming sense of sexual insecurity. And yet I felt not one tiny iota of regret. The situation was completely out of the normal run of life and therefore, (I told myself) normal rules didn't apply. It verged on the perennial question, 'What would you choose to do if you knew that the world was going to end in the next fifteen minutes?' This was not much different in that, if we weren't rescued we could still easily perish within just a few days. The bottom line question, had I maintained fidelity to my marriage, how would I feel queuing outside the pearly gates two days hence, knowing that I had missed out on such a marvellous experience.

So my conscience was clear, I felt content, drifting in a warm sea of satisfaction. Only one thing was lacking and Geoff solved that with the urgent words, "I need to fuck you again, my dick is so stiff that it hurts."

I signalled my acquiescence by quickly squirming myself over on to my back and saying, "I want it face to face this time with you on top of me."

Geoff was half way through the tricky manoeuvre of getting into position when I had a sudden thought and advised, "You better get a towel or something or else we are going to ruin your sleeping bag."

Seeing the sense of this and showing only slight reluctance, my new friend temporarily abandoned the warmth and the temptation of my open thighs, to scramble out and fulfil my request before hurriedly returning. I took the opportunity of his short absence to retrieve my sodden knickers and quickly push them outside the bag. That quick foray into the cold interior of the vehicle had slightly wilted the stiffness of his cock but my exploring fingers quickly restored rigidity. The fingers of my left hand discovered warm plums like testicles whilst I found that the fingers of my right couldn't touch when grasping his shaft. "You've got a wonderful cock, how long is it?" I had to enquire.

"Eight and a half inches," he said factually and then after a pause asked, "Is it bigger than your husbands?"

"A bit, about an inch and half longer," I said, for some reason feeling the need to flatter Clive's actual endowment by more than an inch.

As I lay there after the first session, when the first twinges of guilt were trying to insinuate my mind, I reasoned that what had just happened was meaningless, there had been no kissing or affection involved so it was just an animal act performed by strangers to gain mutual physical comfort in a nasty situation. Unfortunately that logic didn't hold true for the next time because we were enthusiastically swapping saliva and sucking tongues right from the start. The second session was different but I can't honestly say it was better. Even though the first time was wonderful, I don't think that I managed to cum except perhaps during the time that he was depositing those millions of sperms inside me. This time there were orgasms aplenty with another one starting as the previous one ended. It was total energy, fast and furious, with his sweat mixing with my sweat making disgusting squelchy noise as we fucked. (I know I should only admit to perspiring gently but I am trying to write a true account.)

We continued to copulate intermittently right through the night, with periods of dozing between sessions, and I think the first glimmers of dawn were beginning to show before I fell asleep properly.

When wakened the next morning we did of course need to do it again before abandoning the cosy warmth of our love nest.

As we sat relaxing with mugs of freshly brewed coffee, my mind went back to what had happened to his wife and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "I can't understand how they can possibly let a man go when they know for certain that he killed someone."

"It was all my fault," Geoff admitted, going on to quietly explain, "This guy had been bothering Lorraine for a while, it started with him trying to blackmail her for sex and when she called his bluff he started to stalk her in different ways and on more that one occasion we thought he'd actually been inside the house. This usually happened when I was away. Anyway, I found out who he was and had a quiet word with him. I thought that had done the trick but it had the opposite effect."

At that point Geoff choked up and I waited in silence for him until he regained his composure and continued, "After the murder I went to the police and told them about the guy. They didn't want to know so I broke into his house and discovered conclusive evidence that it was him. That was enough to get him put on trial but then his defence lawyer successfully argued that the evidence I found should be ruled inadmissible due to the fact that I got it illegally. There was no other DNA and with nothing else to connect him the jury found him not guilty."

I love my husband so much that I would give my life his without a moment's hesitation and that is quite separate from what occurred within the confines of that 4 x4 over those three days. Lest I seem to enthuse about my temporary lover's body and sexual abilities I should perhaps set the record straight. Clive my lovely husband has always been a one shot merchant or at least needing several hours of recovery before wanting seconds but that gives a very misleading picture. A lovemaking session with him never lasts less than a couple of hours, with most of that time spent by him devotedly giving me sensual pleasure all over my body. He kept me so satisfied that I had never even fantasised about being unfaithful and but for the advent of the blizzard I would have been content with his tender loving for the rest of my life.

That first morning snowbound in that vehicle established a pattern which was to continue for the next three days. At this point I think I should touch on more mundane matters to give the full picture, specifically the problem with urinating. The answer for him was simply using an empty plastic bottle but he had to find a funnel before I could relieve myself the same way. That first morning we both tried to afford the other some privacy during this operation but soon we both watched the other performing with interest and a couple of times I actually held his perfect penis poised in position as he pissed in the pot. It amazes me to think that in those few days with Geoff, I managed to lose all sense of modesty in a way that I had never quite been able to manage in eight years of marriage.

For other toilet needs, with my feet pushed into his large boots and part of his weather wear clutched around me, I used to venture outside to squat over a rudimentary latrine that Geoff had dug in the snow. Bodily necessities taken care of, a first task was cleaning ourselves using water which was left heating while we were sipping our first coffee of the day. We washed face and hands, with particular attention to genital hygiene, but left our bodies dry on his advice, because the cooling effect of evaporation was likely to cost more body heat than we could afford.

We chatted at lot but I cannot now remember what we talked about. Geoff said very little about himself and although I was happy to enthuse at length about my small son, I had no wish for my unaware husband to be a topic of conversation. Strangely, I found myself telling Geoff details of my early sexual life that I had never felt able to divulge to Clive.

False modesty aside, I do have rather nice tits and Geoff loved both fondling and gazing at them. Unfortunately, outside of the sleeping bag, most of the time it was too cold to go naked so I wore one of my lover's woollen jumpers. This was very baggy on me, stretching down below my knees, so although my wet cunt was concealed it remained conveniently accessible. (To keep my feet and lower legs warn, he also loaned me a pair of his long thermal socks). At times, just after we had been cooking and with the car engine ticking over, the interior heated to a pleasant temperature and at such moments I would slip the garment off and wrap it round me so that my breasts were on display, with my pert, proud pink nipples perking prettily for his visual pleasure. It has always amused me to see the effect that mammary glands have on most men.

There were times between sex sessions when Geoff's flaccid but still wonderful cock lay coiled on his thigh looking just like a sleeping snake and I used to love teasing it awake again with the tip of my tongue. I loved holding the bulbous head in my mouth and feeling it throbbing but that act prompted one of my few twinges of guilt because although I had done the same thing with my husband countless times over the years, it had always been for his pleasure not my own.

We had sex one hell of a lot. Some times it was triggered by a look, sometimes a touch but often just a spontaneous unspoken mutual accord. For reclining full length we climbed in the back and lay on top of the sleeping bag, this mainly for missionary and occasionally doggie style, but that tended to be the coldest part of the vehicle so we preferred doing it elsewhere. We managed several different positions on the front seats but that could sometimes require a great deal of both agility and ingenuity, especially having to take Geoff's long legs into consideration. My diaphragm was safely packed in the bottom of my suitcase awaiting me at my in-laws home but I seldom gave it more that a passing thought.

One of my favourite positions outside the sleeping bag was Geoff sitting in the passenger seat with me sitting on his lap also facing forward and with his big cock lodged right up inside me. We didn't actually do much movement but he kept twitching his penis while I used my vaginal muscles to squeeze his throbbing organ. In that position, Geoff was ideally placed to reach round and tease my eager nipples. Another variation had him in the same position but with me crouched in the foot well giving him oral. This was a sexual activity that my lover didn't reciprocate and I was rather glad because this was my husband's real area of expertise and I didn't want Geoff to be better than him at that as well.

Apart from carnal pleasures our great preoccupation was with food, with a great deal of planning before each meal to make the differing ingredients both appetising and varied. The actual cooking needed a lot of organising as we were limited to that single camping stove and a candle power hot plate of the kind usually seen at dinner parties where they are used to keep dishes warm. For breakfast we had porridge made with oatmeal and water, Geoff ate his with salt where I preferred a sprinkling of sugar. Lunch was usually soup of the packet variety but we made greater effort in the late afternoon when the more substantial meal was built round some kind of tinned meat.

Those days of sexual abandon did not seem real, more like a dream, admittedly raunchy, but one from which I would eventually awake. I knew it must end but I didn't know when or how. The heavy snow stopped and only returned in short sessions but at any time over that period there always seemed to be snowflakes in the air though few and far between. In view of our unchanging surroundings, I felt confident that our isolation would last for a few more days.

On the morning of the fourth day the sequence of our activities had become routine, sex before rising, after which Geoff would get up and start the car engine to warm the interior, then make coffee before I crept out of the sleeping bag. Where on the first morning Geoff had tactfully gone outside while I emerged, now he blatantly watched as I crept out naked and unashamed, to don my garments in leisurely manner under his admiring gaze.

After ablutions and tidying up the sleeping compartment, we enjoyed breakfast and then, with our second coffee of the morning of the morning, we settled to drink it in the front seats. It was just before 10a.m. in a drastic deviation from the norm, we heard sound of a helicopter in the distance. Unfortunately, due to the still snow coated windows, other than part of the windscreen and near side, as it drew close we were unable to tell where it was until with a roar it passed directly over head, heading roughly in the direction of the road we had been travelling. I realised that at the first sound we should have been out of the vehicle waving to attract attention but it was already too late unless it happened to return this way.

Once it was obvious that that police helicopter was not going to stop, I rather lost interest in it but Geoff watched it intently until it disappeared from sight. Putting a brave face on it, I said cheerfully that we might be rescued soon but Geoff was doubtful, stating his opinion that they were not even looking.