Every Time I See Snow Flurries

A number of years ago I took a shot at the suburbs, marriage and all that. While it was a great experience, the relationship ended sooner than I had hoped for a variety of reasons. When it ended, an amicable parting let her return to Southern roots while I held on to the house for a few months while it was sold. I was looking forward to returning to my old bachelor digs with a view of the harbor near downtown, which I had rented out. Before I moved back to town, however, I met Missy.

In Seattle, unlike the South and much of the East, the bus is a perfectly acceptable form of middle-class transportation. During my time in the north suburbs the same cast of characters rode with me every day. Some of them were lawyers and accountants, some were secretaries and other administrative types, and a little bit of everything else that worked in or near downtown Seattle.

Most of the riders seemed to have their own spot on the bus, sitting in the same area day after day. I typically rode toward the back. This seemed to be the least crowded and offered the most promise of sitting without someone beside you. The bus afforded an opportunity to read and rest (no smart phones, only early flips), although it still took a good hour before reaching the house.

One Tuesday afternoon in late January, 1995, Seattle had one of its infrequent snow storms. The city gets a good one every ten years or so. However, the north suburbs lie in the "convergence zone." The Olympic Mountains split weather systems that follow the winds from the Hawaii area. The two branches reunite in North King and South Snohomish counties. When the branches come together the air rises, and when air rises it cools, and cool air cannot hold as much moisture. Hence, the convergence zone has more rain in the summer and snow in the winter. There are days where downtown Seattle is sunny but you can see black clouds dumping rain 20 miles to the north.

For those denizens who live in Everett, Lynnwood, or my home, Mill Creek, snow is an annual occurrence. This Tuesday, the temperature had cooled off but the snow in downtown was very light, mixed with rain and was not sticking. I knew the forecast for Everett was for up to three inches of snow so I was trying to get out of the office as soon as I could.

Work, however, intervened and I was stuck trying to catch the final express home at 6:40 p.m. This bus is usually an older bus that seats about 40 people, while peak services are usually in bending buses that seat 60 or more. It was around freezing, and the snow was starting to stick. I was glad to have my heavy, long wool topcoat over my sportcoat, dress shirt and slacks. The bus was about twenty minutes late, unusual for Community Transit, which usually runs on time or close to it unless there is a problem with traffic. By now I was thinking it was going to be a long ride home.

The back of the bus was mostly full, which was unusual, so I grabbed the last window seat toward the middle. Just as the bus started to pull away from the curb someone started to pound on the back door. The bus stopped to let on the final passenger before we hit I-5 northbound. Although there were a number of empty aisle seats toward the middle of the bus, for some reason the last person on picked the seat next to me. It was Missy.

I had met her well over a year before. Missy, which I assumed to be a nickname for Melissa, was a projects manager for a large Seattle law firm. We had met over casual conversation on the bus or at the stop one day. I knew her to be about my age but she had two sons in their early teens. Missy had been divorced several years before but was set up financially by her ex in a nice house with few material needs (she even received a 16 unit apartment building).

She was of average height, about five feet four inches tall. Her most prominent feature, in my mind, was a little cute turned up nose, set on an oval face. Missy's hair was mousy brown and usually worn fairly short, cut mid-neck with a little natural wave in it. Her fair skin carried the remnant of a summer tan. Most of the time Missy favored baggy clothes (classic Seattle look), including oversized dresses cut long to the ankles or just above them with lots of woolens in the winter. I don't think I had ever seen Missy with a tight belt, tight shirt or short skirt. Whether she was conservative or just convinced that her figure wasn't good enough to show off I wasn't sure. In any event, Missy's face, arms and hands indicated that she was slender underneath it all.

Missy was surprised to see that she had sat down beside me. I had been traveling a lot and had not seen her in several months. Missy unbuttoned the front of her coat, which was surprisingly light for the weather. She was wearing her trademark long dress, a flower print that was tailored but not belted. I commented to her about the light coat. She said she had been in a rush that morning because her boys left with a school group for a gathering of young leaders in Portland.

Missy remarked that she was looking forward to a few days with an empty house. As the bus slowed in the traffic when it crossed the ship canal, I told her not to hold her breath as it might take a while to get home. Traffic slowed further to a crawl as we headed north. Snow was sticking by Northgate, five miles north of downtown. The trees were starting to hold some flakes. We chatted about our work, our frustrations and our lives. It was quite a pleasant chat. After twenty or so minutes we were chatted out. The bus continued in stop and go traffic, more stop at times than go.

The bus had warmed up from the heater. Missy yawned once or twice, then asked me to excuse her while she closed her eyes for a minute. I told her that I didn't mind and would close mine as well. I couldn't sleep. Missy drifted off for a few minutes. Her head bobbed a few times, then lay onto my right shoulder. I had the sense that she had been stressed by work and family. We continued slowly northward for another few miles until the bus started down an off ramp. The driver came on the p.a. system and told us that there had been an accident further north, closing I-5. We were going to try the side streets, which were now covered with snow. Missy somehow slept through all of this.

About thirty minutes later we had made it another five miles, nearing Lynnwood. Traffic sucked. We would wait three or four cycles to get through each light. Huge wet snowflakes coated everything. Some of the cars parked alongside the road had at least an inch of snow on them. I knew the further we went north the worse it would be. I could see that the side streets were icing and noticed the bus beginning to have some trouble staying on the road. At about this time I felt the bus skid once as it slowed to a light. That woke Missy up. She raised her head, becoming aware that it had been resting on my shoulder.

"What's going on?"

"The freeway is closed so he is trying the surface streets. But it's getting icy here too. We're just south of the mall and it's getting worse." Missy said nothing.

The bus continued to slip and slide on the road. We watched as cars spun out, one going up on a lawn. "I think we better stop this bus soon or else we're in trouble" I said.

Silently, Missy took my hand and held it tight. The adventure continued for only a few more minutes. This time the bus slid a bit too much. The driver stopped, then gingerly pulled forward into a parking lot of a strip center. He came on the p.a. "Folks, I hate to say this but I don't think we can go any further tonight. You can see how bad it is outside and I just don't have any control. There are several motels up there. Why don't we all walk up together and get warm and dry. I've heard on the radio that there are a bunch of people on other Community Transit buses stuck like you."

"Lovely" I said. Everyone stood up, buttoned their coats, and put on hats and gloves. I didn't have a hat but I had gloves. Missy had neither. "It's not too far, why don't you take my gloves, your coat is lighter than mine," I offered.

"Thanks," she said softly, looking concerned at the walk ahead of us. Missy had on nice black leather flats with no stockings. I knew her feet would be freezing by the time we got to the motel.

"I'll help you get there. With those shoes you will be all over the road like this bus."

Missy smiled for the first time in a while. Missy and I trudged through the snow toward two motels that were about a quarter mile ahead. Missy's feet were covered with snow but at least she wasn't slipping. We walked as fast as we could but it still took a good ten minutes to walk there.

Missy and I reached the first motel, a Days Inn in the middle of the pack. It was at least warm inside. A crowd milled around the lobby as the newcomers shook snow off their shoulders and backs. Someone said that they were out of rooms but were bringing extra blankets and pillows to conference rooms. "Well, what do we do?" Missy asked.

"Two choices. Stay here, warm your feet, crash on the floor and try to get home in the morning. Or, try the next place. There is also an Embassy Suites around the next corner, probably another ten minute walk. It's further from the freeway and pricier so it may not be as crowded. I'm Hilton Platinum so in theory I can call and get a room."

Missy seemed spent. "Give it a try" she said.

I walked away from the crowd, called Hilton reservations on my cell phone and booked a room, then wrote down the local hotel number. Next I called down the road to confirm that I had a room. It sounded like a madhouse in the background but the clerk confirmed that I had a non-smoking room blocked out per my Platinum status.

"We got it. How are the feet?"

"They can make it ten minutes but I think they will need a hot shower."

We walked quietly and quickly just more than five minutes up the road to the Embassy Suites. The lobby was full of people. I evaded the line waiting at the reception desk and went over the Honors check in. After a minute a clerk noticed I was over there and came over. Many people were giving us dirty looks as she gave me the keys.

Missy was quiet as we went up in the elevator to the room. As we stepped off I wasn't sure what she was thinking. Here she was going to a hotel room with a stranger. Even under the unusual circumstances she appeared hesitant. Stepping off the elevator, I stopped her.

"Missy, I'm not sure what to say" I blurted out. "We hardly know each other. It's a suite so you take the bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch."

Missy stepped up and kissed me gently on the cheek. "Thanks, I wasn't sure what was going on. I appreciate you looking out for me and getting me a bed tonight. You are a gentleman. I'll remember this."

We went into the room. It was a typical Embassy Suites two room suite with a small living area in the front with a sofa and round table, a bathroom in the middle off a hall, and in the back a bedroom with a king size bed.

"Turn on the heat" Missy laughed, "crank it high." I smiled and turned it on to warm up the room. We hung up our coats and looked around. She said, "I need a warm shower."

"Go ahead, I'll watch some tv while you get warm." Missy disappeared into the bathroom.

I could hear the water dripping in there and wondered what it might be like to stand next to her wet body as warm water poured over our heads. Imagining her nipples being pinched and pulled between my fingers, my member started to rise. Visions of Missy pulling my hard cock into herself, driving it home as she leaned against the shower wall kept me hard. I wondered what it would be like to hold her warm flesh as we slept under a blanket.

But it was not to be. I heard the shower stop. Shaking my head, I came back to reality and hoped my tent would disappear before she got out. Fortunately it did, just moments before Missy stepped out into the living room clad in a short towel. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

I was. Hungry for what I saw before me. Missy's towel ended mid-thigh, showing far more leg than I had ever seen on the bus. Her arms were similarly fit with no flab. Trying not to focus on the toned limbs, I said, "yes, why don't you get dressed so we can eat."

Missy then did something I never expected. She walked right over in front of where I was sitting on the couch, then climbed up and straddled my lap, settling down against my crotch. Missy put her arms around my head, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "You know there is a point where you can stop being a gentleman. Don't you think I'm overdressed?"

Schwing went my cock. Our faces were only a few inches apart. Missy was straddling my rapidly growing member which now began to press up into her own crotch. My hands rested on her hips. Before I could say anything, Missy felt the hardness pushing up between her legs. She slowly rolled around on it, closing her eyes. She licked her lips. "Oooh that feels good. I was just thinking in the shower......."

"Funny you should say that," I responded, "While you were in there I was just thinking....."

"I can feel what you were thinking and think I like it." By now she was pressing down instead of just rolling around on the mound in my pants. Missy's hips began to rub backward and then forward, slowly but steadily. Her breath was getting brief. Missy bit her lip for a moment, draining the blood from around the teeth. Continuing to press down, Missy found her spot and rubbed it as hard as she could against my cock. My hands held her hips, keeping her in place.

Missy's cheeks began to flush. Her pupils rolled up and then the lids closed over their pale blue centers. She shuddered, alternating pushes up and down, shaking with pleasure. It took a moment for me to realize that she had actually started to cum, but I realized that she was bringing herself off while straddling my lap.

"Oh God, I'm cummmming," she cried, pressing down as hard as she could. After a few moments her body went limp. Instead of my hands holding her down I was now holding her up. Missy's head fell forward onto my shoulder.

Missy rested there for a few minutes, then rolled off and lay back against the arm of the sofa. Her towel was still tied at the top but had fallen open at the bottom. Missy's legs were sprayed out with her right foot on the floor and her left foot on my thigh. No longer inhibited about looking at her body, I looked directly at her pussy. It was covered by a pair of light blue bikini panties. The crotch was soaked, casting a darker color. A few light brown hairs curled around the edge. I reached over and began to stroke her thigh. Missy was looking right at me. "Thanks" was all she said.

"I enjoyed that too."

"Not as much as I did."

"I have to agree with that, you looked like you had a good one there."

She smiled broadly. "Yes I did. Being divorced doesn't give me a nice hard one very often."

By now I was stroking the inside of her thigh, only inches away from the dark blue wet spot. Her skin was as soft as a rose petal. It lay tight with no flab on that thigh. She must have worked out a long time to get those thighs. "Then you deserve more," I said.

Without waiting for a reply, I shifted down to the floor between her legs and began to kiss, caress and lick the inside of her thighs. Missy didn't say a word but did move slightly and placed her right leg, which had been on the floor, over my shoulder.

The delightful musk of a woman's juices came to my attention. Missy had a sweet smell. I knew she would taste good.

Kissing my way up to the bottom of her bikini panties, I kissed gently on top of her mound. Missy's hands held my head there, pulling me to make greater contact with her. Hooking a finger under the band on each side of her waist, I began to run them toward her crotch. Freeing my head from her grasp, I looked up. Missy was staring at my eyes. Without breaking our exchange of looks, I slid my fingers along the remainder of the way, past the curly hair until they reached full, blood filled lips that surrounded her slit. Still looking at her pale blue eyes, I lifted the bikini with my left finger and moved my right directly to her clit. With that Missy cried with pleasure, breaking our look. When she did that I realized that she had opened the top of her towel and had been tweaking her nipples. Still rubbing her clit, I watched as she slowly pulled the nipples out. The color was barely darker than her skin. Missy was moaning loudly now.

Knowing what had to happen next, I withdrew my fingers and put them back under the bikini string on her hips, then pulled them down. Missy lifted her ass ever so slightly to permit me to pull them off. After I slid her panties down, Missy kicked them off with her foot.

Without stopping I dove for the cunt that I had been rubbing with every intention of making her cum again and again with my tongue. Flicking aside the lips, I first pushed it into her slit and began to lick up and down, lapping up the pussy juices that were frothing out of her womb. Having my fill, I then returned to Missy's clit, at first lapping it and then sucking it gently into my mouth.

Missy lifted her hips off the couch, pressing them against my face in an effort to increase the pressure on her most sensitive spot. "Make me cum, make me cum again," she cried.

Complying, I drew her clit into my mouth, clamping my lips around it and attacking it with my tongue. Missy flooded my mouth with her fluids, forcing me to lose my grip in order to avoid gagging and letting me drink that sweet juice. She came, pushing her hips even further off the sofa until her ass was suspended six or eight inches above the cushion. I held her bum for support, keeping my tongue lapping up pussy juices as fast as I could. Missy must have reached three or four peaks because she held herself there for at least thirty seconds, moaning and crying with the unadulterated pleasure of multiple orgasms. Finally spent, her body again went limp, falling back onto the couch.

"My turn" she commanded. My cock was definitely hard. I stood up and shed my shirt, socks, pants and underwear. Standing literally at attention in front of Missy, my hard seven pointed directly at her face.

"See anything you like?"

Missy didn't verbally respond. Instead, she sat up, bringing her head to waist height. Missy leaned forward. She opened her mouth. Out came a pink tongue. After licking her lips, the tongue flicked across the tip of my head. A large drop of clear fluid had formed at the tip. The tongue expertly removed that drop.

Gently her hand squeezed the base of my cock. Another drop formed. Again, the tongue reached across and took the drop away. This time her lips followed.

Missy started on the head. She planted her lips around the base of the head and used her tongue to suck it into her mouth. The tongue then began to work on the underside of my penis, tickling the most sensitive side. Missy next took another a few inches into her mouth but stopped from taking it all. Instead she clamped her hand a little harder and began a gentle stroking. Missy obviously had some skills with her mouth.

By now all I could see was the top of her head bobbing up and down. Fortunately the back of a chair was close enough for me to reach over and grab to steady my balance. I was trying to hold back and enjoy the blow job but it was tough. Missy's mouth was amazing, pleasuring me like it was her last day on earth. Her tongue was especially intense, slurping, teasing, stroking my cock again and again.

Missy continued to pull up and down with her hand, cupping my balls and kneading the sack. It took a couple of minutes but I finally felt my balls pull tight. Missy must have felt it too because she redoubled her efforts with hand and tongue. My orgasm hit hard. Twitching, gob after gob of cum passed up the shaft, shooting again and again into Missy's mouth. She held the head and drank my cum, just I had lapped up her juices. My body was shaking with pleasure as I came off my high. Missy squeezed my softening cock and drew out the last drop, which she then licked off my head. "We've had appetizers, how about dinner?" was all she said. I was speechless.