Shelter From the Storm

SHELTER FROM THE STORM

Author's note: I originally wrote this story some time ago. This revised version is new for Literotica. I own the copyrights to all versions of it. This is the only story I've ever written from a female POV. If I messed it up, I'm sure you'll let me know. I hope you enjoy it. Randy

***

The blizzard caught me just crossing the New York border on my way home. It figured; the rest of the trip had been awful, too. Every one of my accounts in the Albany district had ordered the barest minimum and I knew it was my fault. It's hard to be a smiling, cheerful salesperson when you're pissed.

It was Tuesday evening and I was still mad from Saturday night's party. Tom, my lunk of a husband, had spent the whole evening counting the freckles on our hostess's cleavage. Okay, Meg has nice boobs and it was a bimbo-dress, but damnit, he's my husband. He should've been looking at me, even if I'm not much to see. I'm just a thirty-four-year-old hag with twenty extra pounds and young crow's feet practicing to be buzzard's claws.

The usually pretty, two-and-a-half-hour drive home on Route 2 was turning into an all-night knuckle-biter. The picturesque winding road through the Berkshires had become a risky, narrow, white place between the overhanging trees.

When I saw the cheery glow of the motel sign I knew I had to stop. Now, Tom could be mad, too. He hates it when I'm gone overnight, even though he's the one with busy eyes and I've always been a good girl. Some one-day trip! I hadn't even brought a travel bag.

There was already a foot of snow in the parking lot and in seconds, it had packed hard and high, lifting my little car right off the ground. The wheels whined as they spun futilely. I could go no farther until the storm ended.

In the office, I found myself fifth in a line of people trying to rent rooms that didn't exist.

"Folks, I'd love to help, but we just don't have anythin' left," apologized the manager. "You're welcome to stay here in the lobby, or in the lounge, but there isn't any place else I can put you."

He put a "CLOSED" sign at the check-in desk and left. In a minute, he returned with some blankets and we began grabbing couches and chairs to camp on. I claimed a two-cushion love seat, staked it out with my coat and purse, and tried to call our home near Boston. Tom didn't answer.

"I'm stuck in Hickstown by the storm," I told our answering machine. "With luck, I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Miss, are you travelin' alone?" the manager asked as I returned to my seat.

"Yes," I said.

"There's just a young couple in 121, and it has two queen beds. If you'd like, I'll ask if they'd mind sharin' with you."

"Oh, please do! I really appreciate the use of this love seat, but if there's a real bed, I'd love to have it." That over-grown chair was a whole lot better than the floor, but it was lumpy.

He talked quietly on the phone, but I could overhear snatches of the conversation.

"...Seems like a nice young lady, quiet, well dressed, slim, attractive...I don't know...I'll ask her..."

"Miss, would you mind payin' for half the room?" he asked.

"I'll gladly pay for the whole thing. I'm on an expense account," I responded.

"Says she'll pay for the room. S'ppose that'd make you two her guests, heh, heh. Okay, I'll tell her to meet you in the lounge in a few minutes."

In moments, I had checked in and paid for the room. I was still pleased by the manager's description of me: young, slim, attractive. Maybe others don't see what I see when I look in the mirror. Maybe I'm the only one who sees the extra twenty pounds and the wrinklettes. Mid-thirties can be a tough age.

"The Joneses will be next to the fireplace. He's big, prob'ly wearin' a plaid shirt. The missus is about your size and build, blond hair, prob'ly wearin' a too-short skirt. Seem like a nice couple, they stay with us two, mebbe three times a year. Now, if you have any trouble, or need anythin', just let me know." That sincere, old face could've sold refrigerators to Eskimos. The funny thing is that I knew he meant it. I can't believe he had any idea how much fun the night would be.

As advertised, Robby was big. He stood at least six-four, and was lean. Sally truly was built like me, but was a little shorter. They were both drinking a heated spicy potion, something dark and sweet. He stood to greet me.

"Welcome, fellow traveler. Or should we call you 'Landlord?'" Robby joked. His grin was contagious, and I felt immediately at ease.

"I'm Lori, short for Loretta, and you can call me grateful for half of your room. I paid for the whole thing, by the way, and no arguments about it. You saved me from a night on a love seat in the lobby."

"Too bad you didn't bring your husband," Sally giggled. "You could've spent the night in a love bed, instead." We all laughed, Sally loudest. She was tilting her chair back on its two rear legs, and she was indeed wearing a too-short skirt. I noticed several men appreciating her legs covertly, as if they were afraid of offending Robby.

Men do that. They look at whatever they can see. The men with class try not to draw attention to themselves while looking, but they all look. Especially Tom.

"It doesn't mean anything, Babe," he always tells me, but I can't help wondering. Is Tom really daydreaming about what it would be like to enjoy what he's looking at?

Sally didn't have much hidden. Her skirt barely reached mid-thigh and she had her legs slightly spread. I wondered what those men were thinking. Were they looking at her blue silk panties? Did they want to tear them off and sex her in front of the fireplace? She looked enough like me that if they wanted to do that to her, they must want to do it to me, too! Of course, my skirt was knee length, and my legs were crossed, and even if they could see them, my panties were plain white cotton. Not much chance of competition from me, damnit.

"Hungry?" asked Robby.

"Famished," I told him. He went to the bar and returned with a bowl of munchies and a menu.

"The food here is just 'okay,'" he said.

"I'm omnivorous," I smiled, "I can eat most anything."

"You might as well. There isn't anything else to do," he advised.

"I can think of something else," Sally said with a smirk. "Why don't we go back to the room while Lori has some dinner? We can, uh, watch TV." Her transparent lechery was refreshing. For years, I thought I was the only woman in the world who ever got horny and attacked her husband.

"We have to be polite to our hostess," Robby chided her.

Soon, I had eaten enough junk food to set my diet back a week or so. I was finishing when Robby ordered me one of the things they were drinking. A hot brandy twist, he called it. After the day's impossible drive, it hit my stomach and exploded like a small bomb. Its warmth spread throughout my being, chasing the fatigue from my limbs and blowing the cobwebs off my brain. I began tapping my foot.

"Ah-ha! Sally, she wants music. You always like to pick the tunes, here's some quarters," Robby said, handing her a fistful of coins.

She walked to the old fashioned jukebox filled with old fashioned 45 RPM records.

Every eye in the bar watched as Sally leaned way over to read the selections. Either she had a terrible need for glasses or she enjoyed showing off her panties. The blue silk crept up on one side, exposing one full butt cheek. At least six men were looking, staring, but not one of them made a move in her direction. Were they intimidated by Robby? Or are men that passive? Or do most of them leave you alone even when your ass is hanging out? I've never had the nerve to wear clothes that revealing. Maybe I've been missing out? I wished I was more like Sally.

"I picked some of everything," Sally said as she sat back down. She smiled at me. "That's what I do best," she went on, "a little bit of everything."

The first number was a rap song, with repetitive mumbling for lyrics and a hard beat. Sally was up and moving to the music within the first three bars. God, she was confident. She moved her hips and chest to the beat as if making love to an unseen stranger, with passion, with power. Just watching her abandoned dance made me envious. I gathered my courage to join her on the dance floor, but a grey-haired man got up to move in counterpoint to her lead. I waited. I found I was getting jealous of that old man. Why didn't Robby chase him away?

The next song was an old Elvis Presley ballad. The silver fox held Sally close and toured the floor with her. How could she dare leave Robby unattended? I'd never do that to my man.

"Lori, would you like to dance?" Robby asked.

"Yes, I'd love it," I told him. I made sure I put all the sparkle I could into my smile.

As we danced, I looked at Sally for guidance. If she felt comfortable doing it with a strange man, I shouldn't feel bad about doing it with hers, right? She was cheek-to-cheek, tits-to-chest, and crotch-to-crotch with him. Fine with me. I molded myself against Robby. He leaned his head into my hair. His breath warmed my ear and neck.

"...For I can't help falling in love with you," went the lyrics. We weren't in love, but Robby's touch excited me. It was gentle though I could feel his strength. His scent mingled with the cherry log's burnt offering in the fireplace to form a sexy incense that pleased my nose and aroused me.

By Presley's second verse, I'd forgotten the wasted hours on the road and begun to enjoy our dancing. Through no effort of my own, I found myself leading. Robby followed perfectly, as if our bodies were the taped-together halves of a torn page. I could feel the warmth in his pants pressing against my belly. I felt my answering wetness coming to welcome him into the heat between my legs. The song ended.

Robby's pants bulged in front as he quickly slid under the table. Sally sat for a moment, looked at him, looked at me, and dropped a hand casually into his lap. She laughed a dirty laugh.

I blushed. How could I let myself get into such a situation? How could I excite another woman's man to the point of erection? With her watching? She could kill me with a single word.

"Robby likes those slow dances. I guess you do, too. I like'em now and then, but I prefer the fast ones." Her smirk was the size of Texas as she returned to the dance floor. She wasn't offended at all, just amused. God, I wanted to be strong like her. I watched in wonder as another man, younger this time, got up to boogie with her.

The following song was another slow one, Johnny Mathis's "Chances Are," and Robby and I took advantage. In seconds, his erection was again calling forth my sweet flow of nectar. "...Just because my composure sort of slips, the moment that your lips meet mine, chances are you think my heart's your Valentine." Thank God for the aroma of the fireplace or Robby'd smell how turned on I was.

Sally danced her partner toward the dark end of the room. She looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and put her hands on her partner's ass. Sally shifted positions to straddle his leg. She pulled his crotch against herself. Her lips were slightly parted while she watched me, daring me to do the same with her man, knowing I wouldn't have the nerve to do it. So, I bit my lip and did it.

I straddled Robby's leg, humping my pussy against his thigh. I held his hips both to pull him closer and to make sure he didn't get away. His hardness grew against my belly. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I looked at Sally. She was smiling at me, clearly approving.

When the song ended, Sally's young partner asked her to take a walk with him, just to get some air....

"No thanks," Sally said. "I don't need to get my ass frozen off to know the weather's cold and you're hot. Go ahead without me. Maybe nature will find its balance."

How cruel, I thought. She takes what she wants and throws the rest away. She must know the man would leave in humiliation. She walked back to our table.

"Why don't we chickens head for the coop," Sally said, pulling Robby's hand to encourage him to leave.

"Honey, I just got us another round," Robby protested.

"Take'em with us. Nobody'll give us a hard time tonight," she replied. True enough; no one would bother us on a night like this, but it was easier just to gulp them down.

We fought through the gale of sloppy-wet snow to our door. It opened to Robby's key. The welcome warm dryness was like a cocoon.

"Might as well get comfortable, children," Sally quipped as she pulled her dress over her head. Was she really comfortable in her skivvies with a stranger? How much was confidence and how much was brandy bravado?

The room smelled of sweaty bodies and clean sheets. Clean sheets waiting to be filled with the scent of sex. I realized with a start they were both in their underwear. I hadn't seen Robby strip off his shirt and pants. I felt cheated.

"I'm sorry. I just remembered I don't have a nightgown. I really wasn't prepared for this storm," I apologized. "Sally, could I borrow one of yours?"

"Nope. I don't wear one. No sweat, Lori, just sleep in your skin. That's what we do. We won't stare much," she said, grinning.

At first, I thought she might be fooling. Not her. Sally turned on the TV, went to the bathroom and soon emerged wearing nothing but a smile. I admired her courage. Her body was lush, not slim. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples were erect, and her woman-scent was tangy in the air.

"Get moving, Robby," she prompted. She gave him a light swat on the butt and pointed him at the bathroom. He went. She gave me a wink and held her hands about 8" apart. She laughed as I blushed again.

I shrugged out of my clothes except for panties and bra. I could have slept fully dressed, but it seemed impolite. And I wanted to meet every challenge Sally gave me.

The TV news said the storm would be over in the morning and most roads would be open by afternoon. There was no sense rushing for check-out time, then.

Naked, Robby scurried from the bathroom into the bed. (It didn't look very big to me.) He quickly jerked the covers above his waist. Sally suppressed a giggle.

"Gee, Big Guy, are you shy?" she teased him.

"Your turn at the pot," she said to me. "Don't be in as much of a hurry as our Cowardly Lion when you come out." She got under the covers and kissed him, her hand groping lower as I turned away.

I reached the bathroom without conscious movement. My mind was whirling. She was inviting me to let her husband see my body. Did SHE want to see my body? Did he—or she—or they!—think I was sexy? Oh, God, I wanted to know. I had to know!

I walked slowly out of the bathroom carrying my panties and bra. I walked slowly, feeling their eyes piercing my secret places like swords. I started the walk nervous and cold. By the time I stood next to their bed, I was gushing juice down both thighs. If they didn't want me, I'd die of shame.

"Could you turn the TV off?" Sally asked. The thin covers moved up and down with her hand as she caressed his erection.

The TV was on a table about four feet from Robby's side of the bed. I knew exactly what she wanted me to do. I leaned over to fiddle with the buttons, spreading my legs, giving them a long look at the dripping center of my being. I felt Robby's eyes burning into me. I felt Sally wordlessly urging him to look his fill and enjoy. I knew she was jerking his cock while he looked at me. I was so excited that I couldn't find the on-off button.

"I can't find the power button," I said softly. I stayed bent over.

"I'll get it," Sally said. She rose, walked to my side, put one hand on my hip (I nearly jumped), and turned the TV off. I straightened slowly. Her nipples were nearly touching mine, our naked pussies no more than a foot apart, both within two feet of Robby's face. I wanted to kiss her, kiss him, and fuck them both. I didn't dare. Sally would have to make the first move. Neither of us moved for what seemed forever.

"I guess I'd better go to bed," I said, finally breaking the silence.

"Okay," Sally said. She leaned forward, brushing her nipples against mine and lightly kissed my mouth. "Goodnight, Lori."

"Goodnight," I said emptily. I started for my bed, two feet and a hundred miles from theirs.

"Aren't you going to kiss Robby goodnight, too?" Sally sounded disappointed in me.

"I'm sorry," I said. I hadn't wanted to misread them; better to do without than to offend.

"Make it a GOOD kiss," she commanded.

Sally whipped the blanket down around his ankles exposing his erection. It was every bit as large as it had felt on the dance floor. The head of it was like a big mushroom, the shaft like a water pipe. His hairy sack hung between his legs like a bloated hot-water bottle waiting to burst.

I walked back beside Sally. I leaned down, dangling my tits on Robby's chest and kissed him. His tongue parted my waiting lips and explored my hungering mouth.

Sally touched my hip in a gentle caress. She started high, circled down to my thighs, crossed to the other leg, went back up my ass and came down, dragging a fingernail teasingly down my crack until she was softly rubbing my clit. Robby's tongue danced with mine while his fingers pleasured my nipples.

Sally gently pushed me into the bed. She got in behind me while I continued kissing Robby. She moved up, mashing her tits against my back, put one hand under my neck to touch my boobs and insinuated the other between my legs.

Robby moved up against my front, his boner hard against my belly. Sally took it in her hand and began to rub its head in the crack of my cunt. I felt cradled in lust, consumed and consuming.

I became aware that the moaning I had been hearing was me. I had to be fucked. Perhaps I could gain something of their confidence. At least I'd satisfy my immediate lust. I pushed my pussy forward to engulf Robby's man-spear.

Sally moved it away, teasing me. Her point was clear: I'd get it when she wanted to give it to me, and not a second before. I had to please her so she'd let me have him.

I reached down to feel her. I'd never felt another woman's pussy before. It felt strange, like a sticky, slightly rubbery swamp with a small bump like the stump of some forgotten tree. And a very deep hole of sucking quicksand that trapped my finger and pulled in another and another until I found I was fucking her with three fingers while she rubbed that beautiful cock against my cunt and finally, at last, she put it inside me.

I lay on my back, clawing at Robby as he pounded his prick into my hot hole. Sally crawled over my head and began sucking my nipples. Her teats naturally hung into my mouth, so I sucked hers, too. I felt my orgasm building.

"I'm going to shoot her full of cream, Honey," Robby moaned.

"Yes. Do it, Baby, fuck her for me," Sally cried.

I came as Robby rammed his prick into me and pulsed, pounding inside me. Sally's hand teased my clit until we finished twitching.

Robby rolled away. Sally moved forward, her mouth at my pussy. She began to lick, little fat licks like a cat lapping a saucer of cream. Her pussy was inches away from my face. I licked her. It tasted slightly oily, slightly salty, not at all the way I expected a pussy to taste. I licked again. And again. We played 69 until Sally grunted and mashed herself against my face. She rode her orgasm like a surfer, staying on the crest until it died, then lay quietly on the beach of my belly, still making little mewling sounds and taking an occasional lick at Robby's cum that was still flowing out of me.

"That was nice" Sally cooed. "If we can get Robby up again, I want to fuck him. Got any ideas, Lori?"

Sally wanted me to take the lead! What could I do? Twice in our ten-year marriage I'd sucked Tom's dick. Both times, he'd had to beg me. This time, I'd do it because I wanted to do it.