Road Trips - Breaking New Ground

Road trips. With this family we leave the luxury of flying to those whose don't have six kids (and thus 8 round trip tickets) to buy. Needless to say, we've gotten good at this over the years.

Packing, minimizing, prepping kids for long stretches of highway without stopping; did I mention that we are good at this? Because we are. We have become the parents that everyone else looks at and earnestly asks. "How do you do it?" Of course they don't see the absolute shit show that goes on behind the scenes in the privacy of our own space. They only see the instagram perfect, out in public, ready for anything side of our crazy family. But still, if there is any truth at all behind the image, we are killing this whole "parenting a large family" thing.

This morning we left the condo that we've been staying in for two weeks. Mountains, rivers, deserts, eclectic shops and amazing food all wrapped into one annual escapade of familial gluttony. Our family does vacation right. No one has ever questioned that.

Heck, we even do vacation without googling "How to hide your spouses body." We don't fight, we work together, and it flows.

That is, it flows until they need us.

Every damn waking moment someone needs something. I think we've had the "which one could we live without" conversation at least 12 times on this trip and the answer, of course, is none of them. They are all miniature images of ourselves, both the best and worst of us, and they make the world a better place for everyone to be in.

I'll put sentimentality aside for a moment though, because the point is that they make it damn tough to take ownership of these prime years of our sexual selves. They are walking cock blocks with our DNA. If they aren't needing something then one of them is causing drama that totally kills any mojo that we may have been building, leaving us exhausted and ready to do nothing but sleep.

These vacation weeks hit different though. It's like they know that we need the break. I relax as work gets left behind and you settle into a routine of not having to make a million decisions a day. The fact is that, when daily stressors slide out of the picture, it makes glorious amounts of room for libido. Good old fashioned horniness. And here we are.

We've spent the last few days banging our head against logistics and sightseeing and getting up early and know, before we know it, it's time to ride. Both of us unsatisfied, but still time to ride.

You are asleep next to me in the passenger seat again. You've turned passenger princess into an art form. You sleep. The back seats are asleep or buried in iPads. I'm remembering fingering you while you stood at the stove last night and I instinctively smell my fingers. Fuck it all, I've showered since then and you are not there any more, but I can produce a clear response in my brain of exactly how my mouth waters at the taste of you, and now you are asleep and I'm driving with an erection.

-------------

We've got to stop somewhere tonight and usually we make a plan. This afternoon however, everyone is content, I'm well caffeinated and the road is easy. We will keep driving. This trip is a long one and it's still another full day to home. Coming up from the South, from Sedona, the Grand Canyon and then through New Mexico we are now finishing up the last vestige of the Hell that is driving through Texas. Dallas behind us, The Arkansas state line ahead.

As per the norm, the tiredness sweeps in like a flood just as we cross the state line. I wake you up, tell you I'm tired and you ask where we are. "Arkansas," I reply. "Land of the Duggars, Southern Baptists and wild boars. Not much else here worth mentioning."

You pipe in, "Oh, my friend Kelsey lives in Arkansas! I'm going to tell her we are here!"

You open Facebook messenger and go to work, I keep driving.

Approaching Little Rock a few hours later the kids are getting restless, I am definitely beyond tired and you've been chatting on messenger for a while now.

"We've got to stop." I say, "I'm done."

You ask where we are again.

I sigh in response, "Just outside Little Rock,"

Quickly, you reply "Great, stop at the nearest place you can find."

The hotel isn't fancy, but it's all we can do to with a family as big as ours. They have one suite available that will sleep 6, and an adjoining regular king room. This is a no brainer, Our 17 year old is in charge and the kiddos are all going into the six top. Three TV's in there should leave everyone happy.

As I'm settling into finding something on TV and flipping through local menus, you look at me and blurt out. "We are so close, and we'll never be here again and can we please go meet up with Kelsey, even if it's just for a quick drink? Please?"

I'm starving, we've already ordered the kids pizza, and we've got to go out to get grown up food for us anyway. "Sure," I say. "Ask her if she knows were we can get some decent food and a beer."

Turns out she does.

-----------

The problem here is that you are wanting to go out, and I'm wanting to fuck. We've got the room to ourselves and the build up from the last few days, the driving and the groping has got me about as pent up as I can be. When I finally cum, its going to be in historical proportions.

I give your tits a playful squeeze as a stand up and announce to your chest, "I'll see you girls later, right now we need food."

I've met your friends before. There is always something a little bit nerve-racking about meeting someone for the first time that you've only ever interacted with online. Like, now you get the real unedited version of themselves. No back space or spell check before hitting send.

I'm excited for beer. You are visibly nervous about meeting Kelsey. You've told me before that she's a firecracker, so I'm anticipating that, if nothing else, I won't be needed to carry any weight in the dinnertime conversation. Score 1 for me.

I have never met Kelsey, never seen her, never spoken with her, but as soon as we walked in the door of the local joint she recommended, there was no question who she was. It couldn't be anyone else. You squealed a little bit, (which took me back, because you are not a squealer) and then ran into a hug. The big kind of hug that spins around and leaves no space where one person ends and the other begins.

So much for the "awkward first meetings" theory.

This girl has never met a stranger. Perfectly comfortable in her own skin, confident in every interaction, she invited a sense of familiarity from the first moment I shook her hand. Conversation started pretty simply. She had questions about our trip and the last two weeks and everything that we had seen, and you had details. Perfect. I ate, drank and enjoyed playing the wall flower.

This is all well and good except for three facts that alter the playing field.

The oldest kid texts and say the boys are asleep, and he isn't far behind and that he'll see us in the morning.

This girl can drink.

You're drinking Margaritas.

I'm not sure of the exact moment that you your switch flipped. One minute we were sitting side by side in a booth eating and she was across from us. The next moment I noticed that you were almost through Margarita #2 at the exact same moment that I felt your hand on my leg. And there it is. We've been doing this for a long time you and me, and I can tell what each of your touches mean.

This one means that you want to grab my cock.

"What in the world has gotten into you?" I wonder. I mean, I certainly don't mind and it definitely bodes well for later, but how am I supposed to get out of this booth later with a raging hard on? Awkward.

Slowly, subtly, and with no apparent roadmap, the conversation begins to shift. Awkward? You bet, but only for me. You've told me before that "girl talk" can be far dirtier and more descriptive than the boys ever are. I've believed you, but only with a grain of salt because most of the time I personally know the girls that you've been talking with.

By way of confession, it's hard not to imagine them acting out those details when you share them with me. So I file them away under the "you should definitely not be thinking about what your wife's friends look like, sound like, taste, like etc"...as you spill all of their secrets the moment we get back together. It's a thing you and I have, we always share those secrets that others have entrusted to us with each other, confident that they will go no further. Anyway, I file those conversations in a separate vault that is off limits.

This, however; this is different. I'm still wall flowering and drinking and the two of you slide into ever more comfortable veins of conversation. Before I know it, you've gone down that road. I can't be sure because it happened so quickly, but I'm pretty sure you are the one who "went there," first. Regardless of who started it, it was only a brief moment and nothing substantial was out yet before you both remembered I was sitting there.

"Oh God," she says. "I am so sorry! TMI!"

You laugh, "Eh, it's nothing he hasn't heard before." And then you jump right in. A quick glance at me looking for approval and a small nod from me and all of the sudden I have a front row seat, to "girl talk."

Holy Shit.

There is NOTHING out of bounds with you girls and I don't know if it's the Margaritas, the days of pent up build or the perky little fireball sitting across from you, but you are on one. I quickly realized, that so was she.

One minute you are blathering about how hard it is to find time to be "be alone," with six kids in the house (she asked,) and the next thing you know you are talking about all of the new things we've discovered as we get more comfortable in our own skin and age. I mean ALL the things. She apparently is all ears and I'm just sitting watching. She is leaned over the table on resting her face in her elbows as you lay out for that month we had last winter where I had a ton of vacation time to kill but the kids had to be in school. You and I "staycationed" and we basically fucked non-stop for 30 straight days until my dick just stopped working. I can see you sitting up straight and cocking your head with pride, knowing deep down that what we have is unique, and that most men would kill for a wife with your sex drive. (Lucky me!)

The more you talk, (and margarita #3 shows up at the table), the more handsy you get under the table. Nor only are you now rubbing up and down my thigh, but occasionally grabbing a handful of my jeans and digging your fingernails into my flesh. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tell me that you are not anywhere close to being done talking.

Now, this is where the table turns again; because I'm watching you, but I'm also watching her listen to you. I've never seen this girl, ever, but I know arousal when I see it. The more you talk, the more her demeanor changes. You are fully 3 margaritas deep at this point and you are laying out in detail for her how much I like the taste of pussy. You launch into a full retelling of me grabbing a handful of hair and pushing your face down on to my cock. (All in the name of letting her know that you like to be dominated.)

With every encounter you describe, and every detail that rolls off your tongue, I'm watching Kelsey. It started with a little bit of a flush at the base of her throat. Her open v-neck t-shirt didn't really show any cleavage, but anyone with eyes know that's where arousal starts to show its face. A slow flood of blood creeping up from her breasts, to her throat, up her neck, jawline and finally into her cheeks. Your storytelling has her on fire.

Would we be here right now without the tequila? I don't know. What I do know is that a lightening bolt of recognition hit me as I realized I was sitting here, fairly comfortable in my own buzz, that I was in the presence of two very aroused women. My pheromone detector was on high alert, and while I couldn't smell your arousal with all of the other stimulants in the bar, I could feel it. What's more, I could feel hers. That was new.

Where was this going? I could sit here and listen to you two talk about sex all night. Good God, I may need to go rub one off just to relieve the pressure, but this was fucking hot. I excused my self to go to the bathroom and decided against the self quickie in the stall (apparently this is a theme for me) but I did stand there long enough to let my erection subside so I could pee. When you are as wound up as I was in that moment, this can take a hot minute.

When I returned to the table I noticed that the conversation had changed sides. She was now the storyteller. Maybe she just needed a few minutes without me there to get comfortable enough to start, but apparently once she started there was not stopping. I plopped back down in the booth just as she was beginning her list of fantasy scenarios. (I can only assume that you had already shared yours.)

She went on the usual about being watched, being dominated, maybe being dominant, and taking a monster cock. Pretty run of the mill suburban white lady fantasies. She even had a fun one about masturbating in public with no one knowing. Like, hand under the blanket in your lap while on a plane, or train or some such. You like that one, I could feel you wiggling your ass against the bench seat as she told it.

On and on you both went, pushing the tension in the booth to maximum level, until the moment that it all came to a head. And there it was. She said she'd always wanted to be with a woman, but had never been able to work out how that scenario could come together. She had tried hook up apps and Reddit and all of the internet means and ways to get laid. Nothing. People were either fake, flakey or gross. It just didn't work.

I can feel you next to me now. Hand gripping my thigh so tightly that it hurts. Your ass is grinding against the hard wooden bench seat and I swear you are getting off just listening to her talk. Your face is red, your lips are open, and you are lightly chewing on the end of your tongue. I know that face.

I sit quietly, savoring the tension. You let her finish, wait a brief pause, and then simply say "Huh."

She cocks her head.

You go on to describe all of the different ways that people on a threesome app can be stupid, weird, gross, or just unavailable. You relish the story about picture swapping with the fake Dom whose wife must hate her life. Slowly it starts to dawn on her...you both share this fantasy, and both have had the same problems working it out.

Boom.

Suddenly the table is very, very quiet. No one speaks. I'm sure as fuck not saying anything. Where does this go from here?

She is squirming in her seat now. I know that you must be soaked sitting there. Like, leave a wet spot on the bench when you stand up, soaked. Those leggings are going to smell like sex for days. (God I love that smell.). As she squirms and I'm watching I can't help but know that she's got to be soaked too. God damn it, why do I have to love wet pussy so much. I should NOT be thinking this right now.

Finally, she breaks the ice. I don't know where she found the courage, or if she was just buzzed enough not to care, but suddenly she just blurted out, "There is no way I can drive, I should call for a ride...unless you want to keep hanging out?" The restaurant was making its "get the fuck out we want to go home," rounds to each table.

"You can come with us. We can walk to our hotel from here."

Yep, those words came out of your mouth. She did not need convincing. I'm pretty sure she expected you to offer. Me? I'm still just sitting back, letting you drive your own outcome, and wondering how in the world I could possibly live if I don't cum soon.

I don't think any of us really remember the walk back to the hotel. The only thing that will stand out in your minds in the days to come is anticipation. A few short blocks to walk, an elevator ride. I stop at the kids door and put up an ear to listen as we walk down the hallway. You quietly scan the key card, and in we go.

The walk has mercifully killed my erection, and now I really have to fucking pee. It doesn't matter what's going down at this point. I have got to go. I kick off my flip flops and wander into the bathroom, taking care to shut the door all the way, (cause I usually wouldn't). I'm standing there, tender cock in hand, peeing like I haven't gone in days, and wondering what's next. Just wait I tell myself. She always gets what she wants. Let her drive.

Back into the room, and you've both settled in. She in the lone chair in the room, and you laying back on the bed, resting on your elbows. The conversation it seems, hasn't missed a beat.

I am in awe as the two of you, fueled by tequila, giggle your way through all of the hangups that people have with sex in general. The taboos and the socially acceptable are all on the table. You aren't necessarily talking through fantasies at this point. You are just talking through every sexual act you can think of. Its almost like you are trying to see just how far you can push the tension in this hyper sexual bubble before the whole thing just bursts.

I have a brilliant idea.

"Kelsey," I say. "Can I sit there for a minute so I can get my laptop plugged in? The outlet is behind the desk."

She says "Oh, of course, I'm sorry."... and just according to plan, relocates herself next to you on the bed.

You lay back and roll onto your side.

She lays back and rolls onto her side, facing you.

For all your bravado earlier you are now suddenly hesitant. Not sure what to do with your hands, or what to say, or even where to look.

She reaches out, and pushes a lock of your hair off your forehead and out of your eyes. Hair moved, those fingers linger, not pulling away. They are just there, light, almost ghostlike. Tracing your cheek, down your jawline. I watch your entire body tighten, and then in one breath relax and drop all pretense of stress. You are lying there letting her play with your face, your hair and a finger gently traces over your lips. She looks at me as if to gauge my response and I smile but you don't notice. You are lost. Completely given over to the moment, you have forgotten that I am there.

With my smile, Kelsey leans over and ever so softly, bare perceptibly, kisses your mouth. Oh so soft. Your whole body is buzzing. I can feel it from across the room. Two, three more soft grazes of lips over lips and suddenly it is no longer soft, no longer gentle. It is fierce, it is desperate and borderline frantic. Kisses, now wet and deep. Hair, being pushed away from jawlines and necks. Kisses, bold and passionate down throats and into collarbones.

You are both starving. The kisses only intensifying the tension, hands, uncertain at first, move through hair and onto faces, and then to the swell of the hip. She is slightly on top of you now, mouth on yours, one hand on your hip and the other holding her weight off you. As naturally as if she had been born to it, that hand fingers the hem of your shirt, and slips underneath and then your whole body lurches as her fingers find your breast.

Holy fuck, the look on her face tells the story. I can tell she found your nipple. That fat, delicious, feminine nipple that makes you a woman. I can tell she's surprised and yet, turned on she is by how fast and hard that nipple grows. God its amazing.

Now your shirt is up, both breasts exposed. And you are trying to roll so you can have access to her throat with your mouth. She relents, and let you take charge, if only for a moment. You stop, look at her with that lusty, "nothing is going to stop me right now" look and go to work on her ears. Holy shit you know how to kiss ears.

Once you start she breaks the rest of the way through her barrier of inhibition as she grabs your hand and places it on her breast. You are tentative for about 1 half of 1 second, and then you take to it like you've always meant to be there. T-Shirts and bras half pushed up, disheveled and nothing more than in the way, you both stop and slowly pull them off, then you push her back and for the first time, take a nipple into your mouth. They respond immediately, tight little circles of gooseflesh popping all around her aureolas as the peach fuzz that covers her breasts stands on end. Tight, pink nipples that feel like "on" switches under your tongue and between your fingers, they give away every ounce of her arousal and she shudders with pleasure as you softly nip at the end of her tit with your lips.