Stranded in Jamestown

She turned her head in my direction and I could feel her intense gaze. I glanced at her quickly before returning my eyes to the road and the worsening weather.

"Of course, I do. What's not to like? You're...beautiful," I said softly. "But you already know that."

I could feel, more than see, her smile, as she turned her body toward me again. My peripheral vision saw the two long pale thighs aiming slightly left of center. The dark triangle formed by the top of her skirts and the smooth skin of her thighs beckoned to me. She continued in a soft sexy voice.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Peter -- seeing as you're going to be my brother-in-law before long?"

I wasn't sure where this was going. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and peered into the gathering storm as I nodded my head.

"Sure," I replied somewhat hesitantly. I felt her eyes bore into me.

"How many lovers have you had?"

I felt my pulse quicken, mostly from embarrassment at having to give an honest answer. But my head bobbed like a human abacus, doing a complex mathematical calculation to ascertain the correct answer.

"One," I replied.

I could see her pause and her mouth open slightly in disbelief.

"Is that like one in addition to Stephanie, or...?" She paused..

"No, that like one would be Stephanie," I answered, sheepishly.

"Oh. My. God," she replied in three short staccato sentences. "You're a senior in college and you've only ever been with my sister? How can that be?"

"Well, we have a wonderful thing going, your sister and me. Geez, Chloe. I've had opportunities here and there. I've been tempted on occasion, but...." I let my explanation hang out there.

"Is the sex good?" she continued.

"It's great, actually. We've only ever slept with one another. But it's, well, it's great." I didn't sound too convincing, I knew.

"But how can you tell it's great if you've never been with anyone else? You have nothing else to compare it to. Don't you want to experience other women? At least before you get married?" she asked, incredulously.

Nobody had ever accused Chloe of skirting around a topic when she wanted to talk about it. While her directness was refreshing, it was also discomforting. I decided to turn the tables and deflect the conversation back in her direction.

"I guess. But what about you Chloe? How many lovers have you had?" I asked, happy to have the questions going in the other direction.

"Male lovers?" she replied, qualifying her answer. I shook my head in amazement. "Hmmm. I've never counted really, but, I guess...15 plus. Maybe 20."

I tried to keep my jaw from dropping, but she noted my reaction and smiled.

"Geez, Chloe. You're a freshman in college. How do, errr, what, ahh...?"

I was speechless and she loved it. I could see her beautiful mouth turn up in a smile.

"Look. I want to settle down someday with the right guy. But right now I'm having fun and enjoying the variety. I'm learning what I like and don't like. I know the difference between a big dick and a small dick. And I know what makes for a good lover, or at least a good lover in my eyes -- a guy who knows how to make me come. Over and over and...." Her voice trailed of and I could see her smile at me, even in the dark. "You should try it some time."

"What? Twenty guys? I don't think so," I replied smartly, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity and nonchalance.

"No. Of course not," she replied slowly. "But at least one other girl."

As much as I was enjoying the direction our conversation was heading, the snow was beginning to fall at an even greater clip and I suddenly realized my hands were locked on the steering wheel in a white knuckled embrace. The snow was cascading and blowing in waves and it felt like we were in a Star Trek spaceship entering hyper speed -- the snowflakes like stars whipping by our cockpit. It was getting more difficult to see the road; all our headlights seemed to be illuminating was the flying snow.

"Can you see where you're driving?" Chloe asked, suddenly showing concern for the first time since we'd left Ithaca.

"Not really," I replied. "This is getting bad. We can't drive all night in this," I said, stating the obvious.

We were approaching Jamestown; the last town of any substantial size along the highway before we entered a long stretch of very rural country. We were still a good 300 miles from home. I was beginning to think we might want to stop for a bite or just to take a break when Chloe piped up.

"Should we stop somewhere up ahead? Aren't we coming to a town?"

"Jamestown," I replied. "And, yes. We should stop. Maybe check the weather and figure out what to do."

She turned on the radio and flipped the dial until we happened to catch a weather report.

"Blizzard conditions through the night from western New York and Pennsylvania all the way to the Hudson Valley," we heard.

It was getting almost impossible to see and it was only the taillights of the truck in front of us that allowed me to stay on the road. If the truck headed off into a ditch, we would be following right behind. I finally made out the sign for the Jamestown exit through the swirling snow and decided to get off. I eased around the exit ramp, straining to keep the car from sliding out from under me. We merged into a major road and headed toward the bright lights ahead, straining to see the road now that we were on unfamiliar ground.

"God. Maybe we should find a place for the night, Peter. This is insane. We can't drive in this."

I nodded in agreement.

"Well, let's see what we find," I replied.

The first motel we came to had a bright red "No Vacancy" blazing on its marquee. The next two motels were the same. Obviously the less hardy souls had given up the fight long ago and sought refuge along the strip, hunkering down for the night to ride out the storm.

"This is not looking good, Chlo. I'll keep going, but we may run out of options soon."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth we sighted a large illuminated sign for a Radisson that didn't seem to have any indication of being full. We both cheered as I turned slowly into the driveway and headed up to park under the porte cochere.

"I'll be right back. I'll leave the car running. Wish me luck," I shouted as I opened the door to a cold blast of arctic air and snow.

I wouldn't normally look to stay at a hotel quite as nice as this one, but our options were limited and this was turning into "any port in a storm", as they say. As the cute young hostess checked availability for me on her computer, I swept the snow off my sleeves.

"Actually, sir, we only have one room left, believe it or not. This storm has been bringing folks in here in droves. Let me see," she said as her fingers danced over the keyboard. "Yes. Our last room. It's a double -- two queen beds. Is that okay?"

My mind raced. I could get back in the car and keep driving, but that option held absolutely no appeal. I pulled out my wallet, gave her my credit card and made an executive decision. One way or the other this was going to be a very interesting night. My heart raced as she ran my card and I signed the slip.

As I climbed back into the warm car, Chloe looked at me expectantly.

"Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, we have a room. The bad news is, we have a room -- the last room. It's got two double beds, but...."

I could see a smile creep across her face, growing broader as the realization sunk in.

"I see," she replied slowly; her smile growing with the thought. "A slumber party!" Then she hesitated. "What are you going to tell Stephanie?"

"Well, why don't we just say we got two rooms and let it go at that? There's no reason for her, or anyone else, to know. But I don't want to get back out on the road only to find nothing and then lose this room. It's the last one they've got."

That sealed it for Chloe and she sat back waiting for me to park the car. I was overwhelmed with the most disparate feelings. I knew I wasn't going to do anything with Chloe. But the thought of spending the night together, even in separate beds -- a slumber party, as she called it -- sent shivers down my spine and muddled my mind.

"Home, James," she directed. I pulled the car into one of the last remaining parking spots and turned off the ignition.

The room was a big step up from most that I've stayed in and was nicely tricked out. After a little oohing and aahing we dropped our stuff and suddenly both wondered what was next. We had left all our suitcases firmly stuffed in the car trunk, not wanting to have to unpack in a blizzard and repack in the morning. I had a backpack with my overnight needs and Chloe's big leather bag looked like it could last her for days. It was only after a few deep breaths that the hunger pangs set in. Neither of us had eaten in many hours and a basic need moved to the forefront. I offered to go down to the restaurant, fetch a few sandwiches and a couple beers, and return forthwith. I would hunt, forage and gather sustenance for the assembled few. It would be an in-room picnic; an antless feast.

While I was out I called Stephanie and told her of our desperate plight. I did say we had two rooms. I lied. But I just couldn't tell her the truth. Not that anything would happen -- we would deal with the circumstances like adults. I just didn't want her worrying about us or doubting me; and I wanted to be able to relax myself without thinking about it. I promised her we'd see her later the next day and told her I loved her.

My mission was successful and I tread lightly as I re-entered the room. Chloe was on the bed, clicker in hand, channel-surfing. She had changed, or at least she had donned a hotel bathrobe. While it was thin cotton and not the thick terrycloth of a super fine hotel, it added a subtle and somewhat sexy ambiance that I had to smile at. Chloe sat up and scooched forward on the bed, welcoming my brown bag full of goodies. The robe was tied, but loose, and I could see the purple strap of her bra peek out from under the white sheath as it opened subtly on her shoulders. The sight made me stir, just a little.

As we ground through sandwiches and a beer, we began to relax. Chloe had obviously claimed the bed near the door and the bathroom, so I plopped down on the other. I kicked off my shoes and socks and pulled my feet up on the bed. We talked and laughed about our predicament, but it was an uneasy laughter because we were someplace we shouldn't be -- or at least in a situation that was anything but normal. But we were adults and we weren't embarrassed to have moments of complete and peaceful silence.

I commandeered the remote away from her and coaxed the TV, looking for something worth watching. Nothing seemed to pique our interest. The Jamestown news channel did report that the storm would be passing through and an early morning exit did seem feasible.

At one point Chloe went over and turned off the main light, and now the only illumination in the room came from a small table lamp on the dresser and the TV. As I watched I saw Chloe grab a hairbrush, pull the tie off her pony tail and begin to comb her long dark locks. She was standing in front of the mirror, leaning her head to the side as she stroked downward. She was facing away from me and seemed to be lost in her brushing. To me there are few things sexier than watching a woman brush her hair.

From what I could tell her robe didn't appear to be tied any longer and hung loose and open. I waited with bated breath to see if she would turn. I tried to concentrate on the TV and kept changing the channels so she wouldn't think I was watching her. But I was riveted on her form and her movements. First one side, then the other -- her hair hung in long thick rivulets of brunette as she stroked the brush through her lustrous locks.

And then it happened. She dropped her hands to the side, shrugged her shoulders and her robe fell flat to the floor; catching only momentarily on the outward curve of her ass. She didn't turn. She just observed herself in the mirror, then continued to brush her luxurious tresses. She had to know I was watching it all. It was right in front of me.

Her body looked exquisite in the dim light, and I could make out the tight stretch of a pair of matching purple bikini panties that hugged the generous curve of her sweet butt, rode over the gentle flare of her hips and accentuated the tight taper of her waist. The purple bra, which had made itself subtly known earlier, was cupping her well-developed breasts and stretching to lift and support her soft flesh. She turned to look at me as she sauntered toward her bed. She looked so damn sexy. I couldn't believe my eyes and had to say something.

"Geez, Chloe. You don't have any PJs?"

Could I have asked a more stupid question? She looked at me incredulously.

"Are you bitching again? Give me a frickin' break, already."

She bounced onto the top of her covers as I went back to pretending I was really interested in TV, searching for the next riveting infomercial

"I don't sleep in pajamas anyway. I sleep nude. So you're lucky I'm being so modest tonight." She looked over at me. "What about you, cowboy? You gonna sleep in your clothes?"

I didn't respond. I figured I'd take my turn in the bathroom and leave her to handle the remote. I threw it next to her leg and sauntered into the bathroom, casting a quick glance at her curvy form, draped seductively on the bed. I was embarrassed to feel so nervous and anxious about how to emerge, but I figured I should be natural; she certainly had been. So after washing up and brushing my teeth I emerged from the bathroom just the way I would have if I'd been alone: in a pair of snug white boxer briefs.

I'm no workout nut, but I do keep my body in shape through plenty of exercise and good genetics had done the rest, so far. And Chloe had certainly seen me in a bathing suit before, but perhaps nothing quite so form fitting as what I now had on. I didn't look at her as I came out the door, focusing on the TV to see what she might be watching. But I could feel her eyes on me and I hesitated for a few seconds in the light of the TV, knowing the profile of the thickening bulge in my briefs would certainly be visible to her. Then I lay down, pulled the sheet over my body and looked over to my left.

Chloe was on her right side on top of the covers, her left hip flaring up judiciously and the thin strap of her bikinis arching over the tight curve. She looked lovely and her hair hid her eyes, so I just looked at her and felt the blood flowing into southern regions. My body was slightly hidden by the thin sheet, but just below the layer of thin cotton my cock was simmering and my package felt full and thick.

At one point Chloe, remote still in hand, tossed her hair and looked over at me.

"This is boring," she declared. "Let's watch some porn."

She began to navigate away from cable and found the hotel's menu page, opting for "movies", then "categories", then "adult".

"Chloe, what the hell are you doing?" I asked -- not really wanting to dissuade her, but feeling it was the right thing to say under the circumstances.

She didn't reply, but instead began to scroll through the titles -- On Golden Blonde, Star Whores, Boning Miss Daisy, Sperms of Endearment, When Harry Ate Sally. We both got the giggles reading the title and I don't remember exactly what Chloe chose, but she finally hit on a title that struck her fancy and hit the "buy" button. A charge of $11.95 popped up on the screen.

"Jesus, Chloe. I'm not paying for that."

"No problem, man. I'll pay you back."

The movie came on and within minutes we were watching some serious porn. I couldn't believe it, but I did nothing to stop it. A very good looking couple was on our motel TV, sucking and fucking, moaning and groaning. The sounds of their lovemaking, if you could call it that, filled our room. But while Chloe kept her eyes peeled on the television, I watched her

She was laying on her back, slightly propped up on her pillow; her left leg raised up and her right on the bed. Her left thigh formed a backdrop to the wonderful swell of her panty-clad mound; which looked like it must be full and fleshy; rising in silky purple splendor from her taut stomach. Her right hand was running up and down her body; her fingers lightly grazing her skin. I could hear her breathing and realized the video was turning her on. And, to be honest, the sight of her getting turned on was turning me on. I felt like, for the moment, she was in her own little world and somewhat oblivious to my presence.

And while I was under a thin sheet, the drape of the cotton did little to hide the now prominent bulge that lay just below. I could have adjusted and hidden my own excitement, but I didn't; partly because Chloe was doing nothing to hide hers and partly because, somewhere deep inside, I wanted her to notice.

As the movie progressed Chloe began to play with herself with less modesty. I saw her left hand slide under her bra and her right hand began to cup her mons. Suddenly she turned to look at me; almost as if she'd forgotten I was there.

"Oh, Peter. Are you enjoying this?" she asked blithely. "It looks like you are," she said as she surveyed my body and the obvious bone of excitement laying long and thick just below the sheet.

"And why are you under the covers? Are you trying to hide something?"

"Chloe. We shouldn't be doing this. We're treading into dangerous ground here," I stated, half-heartedly, but sternly.

"Doing what? We're watching TV in a motel room. Big deal. We're stranded in a snowstorm. You're my future brother-in-law. We're practically family. Stop your bitching."

She was right -- kind of. I was frozen to resist the direction things were going. And she knew that I was watching her - and she loved it.

Her right hand dipped slowly under the low slung elastic of her bikini panties and I could see it slide down into what I knew had to be a warm moist slit. I heard her catch her breath as she touched her clit and, even with the moaning and groaning emanating from the TV, I could hear the wet sticky sounds of her fingers at play.

"Oh my God! This is so hot," she moaned at one point. She turned to look over at me and I realized that my hand had slipped down under the sheet to rest on and squeeze my now fully erect member.

"Take that sheet off, Peter," she whispered, softly but sternly. I shouldn't have. But I did, without saying a word. I pushed the sheet aside, still on my back with my head raised on a pillow. My boxer briefs were stretched to the limit; my cock straining the fabric and forming a long thick ridge, running north/south, under the white cotton fabric.

"Oh Peter," Chloe moaned. She suddenly swung her feet onto the floor between the beds, her legs still spread, her right hand still ensconced under and stretching the purple silk of her panties, working her sex. Her encased breasts hung full and swelled over the top of her low cut bra. Her nipples were fully erect and unmistakable through the thin stretch fabric.

"Show me your cock, Peter," she commanded in a low breathy voice.

"Jesus, Chloe! We have to be careful here," I protested, with no real conviction behind my words.

"Oh fuck that," she replied. "You're in your bed and I'm in mine. Sort of. We're just looking -- taking advantage of the situation. We won't touch, at least one another. Okay?"

I didn't respond. I just looked.

"And besides. Don't you want to see me?" she asked with incredulity in her question. "I think you do," she whispered.

Her hands went up to her bra straps and slowly lowered them off her shoulders and she pulled her elbows through. She took the top of her bra in each hand and lowered the top, painfully slowly. Her full breasts were perfectly formed and softly round. Her nipples, in all their distended glory, were pale pink in color and her excitement was unmistakable. She reached behind, undid her bra, and dropped it to the floor. She shook her hair loose and her breasts shook in little waves of fleshy vibration.