tagMatureSnowbound with Mrs Ellis

Snowbound with Mrs Ellis


A second entry into the Winter contest. In this one the weather catches the whole country by surprise. Mature Melanie Ellis and her young protégé Gerard Lumier are forced to find a hotel for the night. It's Christmas Eve, and it wasn't the plan.

I hope you enjoy the following. The names are made up off the top of my head. They bear no intentional relationship to anyone living or dead. The hotel and restaurant are real, though.

Please forgive any glitches which remain in the text. I hope mistakes don't detract from the whole.

Feedback is welcome.

Most important -- thank you for reading.

GA -- Belize, Central America -- 13th of November 2016.


The car slewed to the left, tyres gripping nothing but compacted snow as it slid like an ice-skater towards the container truck doggedly making its way along the left-hand lane.

"Fucking hell!" Melanie blurted. "Fuck's sake, Gerard ... Try not to fucking kill us both."

The Ford Focus missed by scant inches. Fishtailed for a few greasy metres. Then the tyres managed to grip something other than ice.

"Sorry, Mrs Ellis," Gerard said, fingers tight on the wheel. "I'm not used to this. I've never driven through snow like this before."

"It's not your fault, Gerard," Melanie said. "It's fucking mayhem out there. Everyone's in the same fucking boat."

It was true. They were on the M25 motorway. It was Christmas Eve afternoon and the traffic would have been crazy in any event. But the snow had fallen quick and heavy and caught the whole country south of a line from Bristol to Norfolk by surprise. The reports on the radio had come in with increasing frequency, radiating panic. The airports at Luton, Stansted, Gatwick and Heathrow were hugely affected. Flights were delayed or cancelled. There were warnings to keep off the roads unless the journey was vital. Announcers on the radio were urging people not to travel, a big ask on the day before Christmas.

"To be honest," Melanie sighed as she looked out of the passenger-side window. "We're all fucking fucked."

Gerard Lumier didn't flinch as his boss vented forth with the foul language. She was known for it. The profanity was all part of the legend. He'd been surprised at how she'd reigned it all in during the meeting. He'd expected her to drop the ball at least once during the four-hour stint. But, to his surprise, she'd behaved with impeccable manners throughout. She even came over as quite the cultured lady he'd thought to himself a couple of times. Now, as the snow continued to fall amid dire warnings from BBC Radio 2, she was worse than ever, stress bringing out her potty-mouthed worst.

"Look, I know it's not far to the M1, Gerard," Melanie said as she swivelled to regard the boy driving the car. "But I don't think we're going to make it. Not in this weather and with all these mad cunts on the road. Yeah," she added, rolling her eyes as she droned, "It's Christmas Eve"

Gerard heard the contempt in her tone as she went on to say, "But I'll be fucked if I'm spending the night trapped in some snow drift inside this fucking car. I'm not dressed for a night in a freezer. We'll be fucking dead by the morning." Melanie blurted a laugh and finished with, "Wouldn't that be a merry fucking Christmas?"

"What are you saying, Mrs Ellis?" Gerard asked, risking a quick glance at her face.

"We get the fuck off this road and try to find a hotel."


"Yeah, a fucking hotel," Melanie said on a note of exasperation. "You know what a hotel is, don't you?"

"Well, yes, of course, but--"

"I'm not fucking arguing the toss with you, Gerard," she said, cutting him off. "We're getting off this cunting motorway. I told you, we're not going to get to the M-fucking-1. Tough shit if it's Christmas. But, if we don't find somewhere to shelter, you won't be seeing another fucking Christmas at all!"

It was pointless to argue. Gerard might have only been with the firm for six weeks, but he knew the score where Mrs Ellis was concerned. Besides, he thought, she was probably right. It would be better to make the decision early and find a place to stay before everyone else had the same idea.

"Okay," Gerard said. "Do you know somewhere?"

Some fiddling with her mobile phone and a lot of cursing later and Melanie nodded her head.

"M40," she said. "East. Towards London. There's a Premier Inn just off the A40 Westway at Greenford. That'll do us. I'll put the room on the company card. Dinner and breakfast, too, of course. And, since it's Christmas Eve, I'll fork out for some wine and beers. Whatever you like."

He didn't reply. Gerard just nodded and focussed all he had on keeping the car moving and out of contact with any other vehicle struggling along just like the Focus. They looped round off the M25 and motored past RAF Northolt as the snow started to come down with vigour. Melanie barked instructions, telling Gerard where to leave the main road and guiding them to the rear of the hotel.

"Good fucking job, Gerard," Melanie said. "I'm impressed. You were a star in the meeting and now you've got us here in one piece. You grab the stuff," she added as she opened the door. "I'll get us checked-in."

Gerard popped the hatch, got out, and hurried to the back of the car. He lifted the door and grabbed at Melanie's suit carrier. He collected both laptop cases from inside, managed to hang on to everything without dropping an item into the snow as he slammed down the hatch. Then he juggled with the keys and the laptops and aimed the fob at the car. He was already halfway to the hotel's back door when the locks thunked down.

Then he was inside, grateful he wasn't going to spend the night trapped in the focus in the blizzard coming in hard.

The foyer was busy with people milling around, suitcases everywhere and mayhem at the reception desk.

"It's all we have," the harassed lady behind the counter was saying. She had the air of someone whose Christmas Eve had turned into a nightmare, her demeanour harried, face tense under the Santa hat perched askew on her head. "It's the airport. Heathrow's closed. We're full," Gerard heard her say as he approached the desk. "Do you want it? Because if you don't..."

She left it hanging, eyebrows raised, expression saying she didn't give a fuck if Melanie accepted or not. It was the last room. Someone would be along any second to take it.

"Fuck," Melanie spat. "Yes, all right. There's no other choice. We're sharing," she said to Gerard as she handed over the credit card. "No more rooms."

As the receptionist processed the card and made the booking, Melanie shrugged and added, "I suppose we're lucky to get it. Another couple of minutes..."

There was some clicking of keys on a keyboard and Gerard was asked for the make model and registration number of the car.

"Room one-oh-nine," the receptionist said. She slid the cardboard sleeve over the counter. "Keys are inside. The restaurant will be open until ten. Sorry about the early close. Christmas," she said.

It was a standard Premier inn. Purple décor, an open-front unit just inside the door for clothing. The bathroom was opposite the wardrobe, the bed on the right deeper inside the room itself. There was the usual long counter beneath a mirror. Electric jug and the makings for tea and coffee on top. The TV was a new flatscreen thing fixed to a bracket on the wall. The bed was neatly made. It was warm in the room, the heat prompting Melanie to take off her jacket.

"Well, here we are," she said as she threw the jacket onto the bed. Melanie turned and looked at Gerard. She put her fists on her hips and added, "Merry fucking Christmas!"

He grinned. Despite the disappointment of not getting home for Christmas, Gerard found Melanie's crude enthusiasm infectious. He was also impressed by the swell of her bosom, her appeal in no way diminished by her mature years or her lewd manner. He liked her. Thought she was lively and fun and sexy. Gerard had indulged in a fantasy-reel full of Mrs Ellis more than once. She was perfect for him. Mrs Ellis possessed all the physical qualities he found attractive: a busty, brassy blonde of a certain age with a figure and face which must have stopped traffic back in her day and which still caught a few looks. She wore her blouses white and tight, buttons strained with the pressure while her skirts were just about on the mark of being too short for decency. He liked the fact she had a propensity towards killer heels, the effect of the shoes enhancing the shapely line of her legs. Back on the road, it had been the sight of Mrs Ellis's skirt high on her thighs what had caused the lapse in concentration which had almost resulted in him skidding the focus into the side of the truck.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Ellis," Gerard replied. "Do you want this hanging up?" he asked, holding the suit carrier aloft.

"Yes, thanks, Gerard," she said. "And since we're going to be stuck in here together for the night, why not relax and call me Mel?" Melanie turned away and went to the window. "Fuck me," she said as she looked out into the swiftly oncoming darkness. "The cars are under a blanket of snow about three inches thick!"

Gerard hung the suit carrier on the rail and dropped the computers on the bed. He went to the window and stood alongside her, the first tingles of sexual arousal down at his balls. He glanced at Melanie Ellis, his eyes taking in the thrust of her breasts. Then he glanced back at the bed and experienced an upswelling of lust when he realised they would both be under the cover that night.

Melanie leaned in and grabbed the curtains. She yanked them together and turned to look at Gerard.

"You going to call home and explain what's happened?" she asked. "I expect your mum and dad will be worried about you."

Gerard felt the heat rise in his face at the reminder he still lived with his parents.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose I better," he mumbled.

"Well, I'll have a shower and leave you to it," Melanie said, fingers at her blouse. "Then we'll go to the pub next door, shall we? Get our Christmas party started," she quipped.

Gerard tried no to look as Melanie walked away, shrugging her blouse of her shoulders as she went towards the bathroom. He was already hard when she paused and turned side on to discard the blouse, dropping it onto the bed with everything else.

"You did very well in the meeting," Melanie said, repeating what she'd said outside in the car. "You're impressing me, Gerard," she added. "I like you, you know."

He didn't know what to say. Gerard was confused by the sudden rush of compliments, the feeling compounded because she was just standing there in her skirt and bra, the sight of her large breasts bubbling over the cups doing nothing to ease his confusion.

"Is it going to be awkward?" Melanie continued, her focus set on Gerard's face. "Us two? In bed?"

"I ... I don't think so, Mrs Ellis," he managed to gurgle. "I ... I could keep my clothes on," he stammered.

Melanie smirked, expression suddenly sly as she said, "Oh, so I'll be naked, will I?"

His face burned as he blurted out a response.

Appalled, Gerard gasped, "I didn't mean it like that. I--"

She held up hand as she laughed and said, "Woah, Gerard. Calm down. I'm kidding. Don't worry," she added with a shake of her head. "We'll figure it out."

Still chuckling, she went to the bathroom and closed the door.

"Call home!" Gerard heard a second before the door snicked shut.


Gerard finally managed to get the message across to his mother that it was the best course of action to give up the attempt to make it home. In the end, after myriad reassurances that he was safe and comfortable and would be eating a meal very soon, his mother accepted the situation for what it was.

"See you tomorrow," Gerard said into the phone. "Merry Christmas," he added. "Love to dad."

He ended the call and stayed sat on the foot of the bed. Placed the phone down next to his thigh. Daydreamed a little.

Inside his head, Gerard saw her in the bra and skirt. He let out a groan and resisted the urge to haul out his cock and start chugging away. He couldn't imagine the scene if she came out and he was pulling his dick. Especially if he was about to come, the rush unstoppable, jizm spurting out of his cock.

"Awkward?" Gerard muttered to himself. "Yeah, Mrs Ellis, it's going to be fucking awkward in bed next to you with a fucking enormous hard-on keeping me awake all night."

He then enjoyed a short reverie where he imagined Mrs Ellis unclasping her bra and cupping her breasts with her palms. Gerard felt the precum slide into his underwear, the dribble reminding him that he was hard, his cock erect, the smear of gloop threatening to leave a damp patch on the front of his trousers if her didn't shove Melanie Ellis out of his head.

Then the bathroom door clicked open and she emerged in a cloud of steam, her body wrapped in a white towel.

He couldn't help but gawp when she appeared, the towel barely wide enough to cover her vulva, her boobs only just held in check.

"Close your fucking mouth, Gerard," Melanie grinned. "You look like the idiot whose lost his village. What's up? Am I gruesome or something?"

Gerard gulped and closed his mouth, still boggling at all the skin on display.

"I..." he croaked, sucking in air through his nose. "I ... I'm sorry, Mrs Ellis. I'm just surprised to see you that way. It's weird, you know?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Gerard. I know I'm an old bird and you're probably fucking disgusted. But I need to change my clothes. I have to get my stuff out of the bag. Could you give me a minute?" she added. "I mean, you could take a shower, too. I could get dressed in here while you're in there."

"I'm not disgusted," he blurted. "I ... I think you're lovely."

Gerard heard himself say it and wished he could reel the words back into his mouth. What an idiot thing to say. What the fuck had he been thinking?

"I'll take a compliment," Melanie said, quick as a whip. "But get into the fucking bathroom, you silver-tongued bastard." She winked at Gerard to show she was only kidding around by her comment. "Let me get changed and then I'll buy you a dinner."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Ellis," Gerard said, aghast at the gaffe.

"Call me Mel, I said. I haven't been Mrs Ellis for fifteen years. I should never have married that cunt in the first place," she added, rolling her eyes. "Everyone warned me. My mother, my friends..." Melanie paused and fixed Gerard with a stern look and finished by saying, "So it's Mel -- okay? At least for tonight. When we start back at work after the break, you can call me Mrs-fucking-Ellis. Now, piss off and let me get dressed. Unless you want to stay and watch?"

She laughed when Gerard shot passed her.


They were in the tub together. Standing up, the shower cascading hot water over them both. She was behind him with her big breasts squeezed against his back, her hand stroking his cock.

Gerard used the image and yanked at himself. He masturbated and thought about Melanie Ellis. Called her body to mind and pictured her smirk, the devilment sparkling in her eyes when she'd teased him about staying to watch her get dressed.

"Hot old bitch," he said, hissing the words. His teeth were clenched as the pleasure surged through him. Gerard imagined being there when she let the towel fall and he worked at his cock harder and faster. "I'd love to fuck you, Mrs Ellis," he moaned. "I'd fuck you and come all over your face ... Your big fucking tits..."

In his mind's-eye, as the jizm spurted out of his cock in several bursts of joy, Gerard pictured himself making a lunge and grabbing her breasts. As the delight poured from him, spunk splatting against the tiled wall and the enamelled side of the bath, Gerard fantasised about sucking her nipples, slobbering and licking breast-flesh while he mauled the weighty globes and savoured the texture of her body in his hands.

Gerard grunted and moaned, eyes closed while the water continued to pour down over him, his ardour eventually cooling. When it was done he sluiced the goo off the tiles and squeezed body-wash from the dispenser fixed to the wall to his left. Gerard showered and towelled himself dry. He put on the clothes he'd been wearing because he had nothing else, their enforced stop not part of how he'd seen the day going.

When he was dressed he picked up his shoes and left the bathroom and found her sat on the wooden chair at the counter with a small make-up bag sat next to the electric jug.

"Won't be a sec, Gerard," Melanie said. "I don't fanny around like a lot of women. Just give me another minute..."

Gerard watched as she looked into the mirror and put on the lip-gloss. She was quick and efficient and then briskly gathered her hair up with one hand while fixing it in place with a long thin clip, tapered like the bill of some tropical bird.

A quick examination of her handiwork, a couple of turns this-way-and-that and she rose to her feet. She looked at Gerard and posed with her hands on her hips, pelvis thrust forward, the red sheath moulded to her body.

He gawked and wondered if she had any underwear on beneath the dress. To his eyes, as she stood and smirked at him, Gerard thought she looked sensational with her hair pinned up in a loose, messy birds-nest arrangement, the killer heels giving her height. The dress was sleeveless, her arms bare, acres of décolletage on display. As he stared at her, Gerard held the vague notion the crease of her cleavage was so deep someone could park a bicycle there.

"Will I do?" Melanie asked, an eyebrow arched. "Not going to be embarrassed about being seen out in public with me, are you Gerard? Don't worry," she added, trilling a laugh. "People will probably think you're out with your mother ... Or grandma!"

Then she went sly again, lips twitching as Melanie supressed the grin.

"Would you be horrified if anyone thought we were actually together?"

Gerard felt the blush rush up from his neck to his face and prickle into his hair. He knew she was teasing; he realised she was just toying with him for her own pleasure, but couldn't stop the fire in his face.

"Oh, God, Gerard," Melanie added, arms now loose at her sides. "I'm sorry. I've made you blush." She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and looked at him, contrition in her expression before she went on to say, "Okay, that's enough from me. I'm on my best behaviour from now on. No more swearing, no more making jokes at your expense. I get this must be an unpleasant situation for you. I mean, stuck here with your boss ... On Christmas Eve, too! I can do it, you know," Melanie added. "Behave myself, that is."

"It's okay, Mrs Ellis ... Mel," he amended. "It's not bad, really. I'd only be at home tonight. I had nothing planned."

Melanie regarded him through wide eyes as she said, "No girlfriend?"

The heat in Gerard's cheeks burned hot once again as he looked down at the carpet.

"Not just now, no," he said through a mumble.

"I was meant to be out tonight," Melanie told him. "I was going to shower and change at work when we got back. Shit," she added, a hand at her mouth. "I'd better call him and let him know what's happened." Melanie rolled her eyes and said, "Jesus, I can't believe I forgot to call. Must be going senile in my old age."

Gerard looked at her as she went to the bed and unzipped one of the two laptop cases. He gulped when Melanie leaned forward to search for her mobile phone and gravity dragged at her breasts, the dress pulling even tighter over her buttocks. As he watched, Gerard had to supress the desire to smack a palm against the rounded rump presented to him in such a tempting fashion. He saw it unfold in slow motion: the smack of his hand against her bottom; Melanie turning, face registering surprise and shock; the sweep of her hand as she went to slap his face.

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