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Marooned in the Snow

A forced stop in the winter brings other compensations!
It was one day in early January, when the north wind blew strongly, and you just knew there was snow on the way. I was away from home on business in London, and was looking forward to being back at home. Hotels are all very well, but the comforts of home are hard to beat. I’d been single for about three years, after my wife, Rowena, and I had divorced after 15 years together. It had been amicable, and as she was a successful career woman herself; we parted on equal terms. We had had no children, not from choice but it just hadn’t happened for us. Both of us were comfortable with our new status, especially since Rowena had recently moved in with a partner in the same law firm. I no longer felt any responsibility for her, something that had always been there despite the divorce. It was, I suppose, the legacy of 15 years together. Newcastle, where I now lived, is a city that is always lively, and I seldom lacked for entertainment and companionship. So life was good.

I'd just finished my last meeting when the first snowflakes started to fall, and by the time I had passed Watford Gap Services, the going was getting harder. I phoned ahead to see what it was like where I lived, just north of Newcastle, and it seemed as though it was OK, so I decided to press on. By now the volume of traffic had reduced greatly, but only a couple of lanes were usable, and the driving snow in the headlights started to get mesmerising. By about 9pm, I decided that I had had enough, and another phone call to a friend at home told me that the snow there was getting bad, so I headed off the motorway, just north of Nottingham and started to look for a hotel.

Bad news! Every one that I came to was full, obviously others had given up before I had, and with the roads getting worse, it was starting to be a real struggle. I didn’t fancy a night in the car, so when I got to Ripley, I was getting desperate. I’d given up on hotels by then and started to call in at each pub I got to. Finally I found one, the White Hart, and the barman said there was just one room left. Dumping my bags in the room, I headed down to the bar, where a roaring fire crackled, the delightful smell of wood smoke adding to the sense of comfort. I ordered some food and a drink and settled down in a corner of the snug. There weren’t many other people around, and they soon left to battle the elements on their way to their homes. I’d chatted to the barman, and he said there were only two rooms in the pub, the other had been taken by an elderly couple much earlier in the evening. He seemed to be hanging around, so I asked him why he hadn’t gone yet himself, or did he live in. He lived about a mile away, but was waiting for the landlady to get back so he could hand over and go. She must have been delayed by the snow, and we chatted for the next half hour or so. From his description, I had the image of a real hard taskmaster of a landlady, with stout legs and strong arms from handling kegs of beer.

Then the door opened in a flurry of snowflakes, and a woman clad in a thick coat, a furry hat, and wellington boots burst into the room. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and she almost ran to the fire, throwing on a couple more logs. After a few minutes, she looked around and saw Jim the barman patiently waiting, and said that she was OK now, he could go, but to take care as it was drifting quite heavily. Jim put his coat, hat and boot son and said his goodbyes, to his boss, and then to me, and was out the door.

The woman turned round in surprise, and saw me in the corner. “Oh," she said, “I didn’t know there was anyone else here! Are you staying?”

I told her that I was, and that I had pulled off the motorway as it was getting too dangerous to continue. She agreed, saying it was no night to be out at all. I just had this impression of a middle aged woman, about my own age or a bit older I thought. It wasn’t until she started to take off her hat and coat that I realised she was actually a good bit younger, wearing a low cut dress which showed off a lovely pair of breasts, full and rounded, above a slim waist. She then told me that she had been out to dinner with someone she had met on the internet, that it had been their first date, but that it was, without doubt, going to be their last one too. He hadn’t even offered to see her home, more concerned about whether he would get back, so she had had to struggle back against the wind and snow. No wonder her cheeks had been red when she got in.

We talked for a while, and together with the bottle of wine she opened, I found her company just the tonic I needed. Paula, as she was called, had had an interesting life, married young, divorced, married again, and divorced again. I said that this seemed like bad planning, but she laughed it off, saying she just chose the wrong sort. I asked what the right sort were, and she told me that she didn’t know, she hadn’t found one yet!

Just as she said this, all the lights went out. There was no light at all, even the street lights were out, and from the window of the snug, all the houses that we could have expected to see were just black as well. It must be a power cut, she said. The snow had to have brought down some overhead lines somewhere. “Damn,” she said,” I have only one butane heater as well. Do you know who the other guests are?”

“Jim said they were an elderly couple, but I haven’t seen them,” I replied.

“I’d better go and check,” she said, and groped her way to the bar where she found a candle. Lighting her way, she vanished up the stairs, leaving me in the dark to wonder what I had got myself into, a night without heating or light somehow didn’t seem as attractive as it had just an hour ago. I heard bumps and bangs from upstairs, and after a while Paula emerged, the flickering light of the candle creating shadows as she emerged from the staircase.

“They were woken by the lights going out,” she said, ”so I let them have the heater, it will give some heat and light.”

“How old are they?” I asked.

“About 75, and a bit shaken, from what I could see,” was her reply.

“Well,” I said, “I’d better think about getting to bed myself. Do you have another candle?”

“I’m not sure, let me look,” she said. Five minutes later she re-appeared to say that there was only this one candle, so she would show me up to my room and make sure I was settled before she herself went to her room.

Upstairs, I pulled the curtains, and felt the radiator, which was rapidly cooling. She found another quilt in a store cupboard and brought it in, saying that she hoped it would keep me warm. “What about you?” I asked. “Have you enough extra bedding for yourself?”

“Oh I’ll be OK,” she said, “and anyway, if I get cold I’ll come visiting,” and with a laugh she was off, taking the candle with her. I undressed in the dark room, and got into the bed. It was cold but very comfortable, and with the second quilt I got myself warm, and was just starting to doze off when I heard a knock at the door, and Paula came in before I could reply.

“It is very cold,” she said. “May I join you, please? Just to share the warmth.” Given the circumstances, I could do no less than accept, and nodded. Quickly she slid into bed, and placing the candle on the bedside table on her side, she turned her back on me, and said she would put blow the light out in just a minute.

There was just enough light to see that she was wearing a strappy nightdress, and I could not ignore that it was low cut at the back, plunging down and revealing a lovely back. It might have been cold, but my reactions were perfectly normal, and I could feel myself starting to harden by the second. Turning over, I lay on my back, and watched the light flickering on the ceiling. My tumescent state was not helped by her next action, which also was to turn over, as she snuggled into my side, and slid her hand and arm across my chest, her head snuggled into my shoulder.

“Mmm....that feels good,” she whispered.

“Err......yes, it does,” I was forced to admit.

“Hold me, please....” she asked, and I turned towards her wrapping her in my arms and pulling her close against me. I could feel her nipples already hard through the thin satin of her nightdress, and I have no doubt that she felt my erection press against her, as her lips sought mine, and her hand moved down to wrap itself around my rigid member. Her kiss was lovely, soft lips moving slowly and erotically, and as it went on, they opened to let my tongue taste her, eventually widening so our tongues could fight their age old battle. Her hand moved along my length, her fingertips curled to lightly scratch the skin, sending pulses of pleasure through me. As we continued to kiss, my hand slid down, and then sliding her nightdress up, stroked along her thigh, moving round to her bum cheeks as I squeezed and stroked. Trying still to stay covered under the quilt was a struggle, but one that we managed despite our movements as our passions rose, touching each other all over. Her breasts felt so good in my hands, and when I sucked on her nipples, she gave a deep groan and held my head in her hands, guiding me to whichever breasts eh wanted to be pleasured. I loved the feel of her nipples between my lips, and flicking my tongue over the tip created the reaction I had wanted, she started to quiver, not a full orgasm, just a series of very little ones.

“Oh, god, yessss....don't stop,” she told me, as my hand slid between her thighs. They opened without delay, and I cupped it around her mound, sliding a finger just inside her pussy lips. “Mmmm......deeper...” she encouraged, and pushed her hips so that not just one finger but a second was deeply embedded inside her. I rotated my hand so that my thumb was pressing lightly on her clit, two fingers deep in her pussy, and my little finger just lightly laid against her puckered asshole. And then I finger fucked her, slowly at first, building the pressure and speed, until she shook and squirmed, her throat uttering obscenity after obscenity as she hit one peak and then another. I felt my hand hit by a hot stream of liquid as she squirted in her orgasm. By now, I had three fingers in her pussy and one in her asshole, gripped tightly as her body writhed. I let her subside slowly, still moving in her, and then guiding the quilt above us, rotated us so she was on top of me, and positioned her so that my hard cock slid into her slippery pussy.

“Oh yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me hard with your big cock," she muttered, and bringing her knees up beside my body, started to ride me. She was superb, she had great muscle control, and sent spasms of pleasure through me as her vagina contracted on me, squeezing rhythmically as she slid up and down on my erect penis. It wasn’t long that I felt my balls tightening and that familiar pressure started to build.

“I’m close,” I said, and was rewarded by a redoubling of her efforts. I just managed to hold back until she tensed again and started to cum. As soon as I felt this, I just let go and released my build up of semen in hot hard jets deep into her. She jerked as my first jet hit her, and gripped me harder, and was moaning over and over, asking for more, for more. When my ejaculation was over, she sank down onto me, and told me that she hadn’t thought of me in quite that way when she had made the off-hand comment about joining me, but that she had just had one of the best fucks she could remember. I told her that I didn’t make any claim to being a great stud, but that we just seemed to go so well worked together that our bodies just took over.

Sleep took over, and we both slept until the first light crept through the curtains. Paula and I woke more or less at the same time, and she sat up, listening to try to determine of the other guests were up and moving. Then she buried down into the warm bed, saying that if they had any sense they would stay in bed. She moved against me, pushing her bum against me, so my arms could wrap round her, holding her lovely breasts in my hands. She liked that and wriggled her bum against me, causing again a very natural reaction, and as she felt my cock grow and harden, wriggled more and more against me, pushing herself back so my cock was trapped against my abdomen and somehow managed to line it up in her bum crack, and then squeezed me over and over with her round cheeks.

“ are a dirty girl,” I whispered, as my hips started to press against her as well.

“I know I am,” she said and lifted her right leg, placing it backwards and over mine, while stretching down to pull my cock from its trapped position. Holding my penis in her hand, she rubbed the tip, and found it oozing precum. She then stroked it against her pussy, wetting it even more, and then pushed it backwards so that my cock head was against her anus. She used it to paint her anus with a mixture of my precum and her pussy juice until it was all slicky and slippery, and then holding it tight, pushed herself back against it, raising her legs as needed to let her anus expand and my penis to enter. As my cock head popped through, she gave out an huge sigh, and said to me “Your cock feels really good were right...I am a dirty girl....I love to be fucked like this”.

So I did what she wanted, and her ass felt great, somehow hotter than her pussy had, and even tighter. As I pushed in and out, her hand was working on her clit, and for both of us it was all too short a time before we cane again, Paula a minute or so before me, which was lovely as my continued fucking extended her orgasm.

Afterwards we cuddled, our bodies sated for the moment, and I may have dozed a bit more, as the next thing I remember was being alone in the room. The bed smelt of our lovemaking, so I had no need to wonder whether it had been a dream. I got out into the cold air and pulled the curtains. The world was white, roofs, gardens, roads, everywhere. I washed in the cold water, and dressed in many layers of clothes, and went downstairs. I found Paula cooking breakfast on the gas stove, and the elderly couple were sitting at the table in the bar, enjoying the log fire which {Paula had obviously stoked up. She greeted me as though I were a stranger, but with a smile and a wink when the other two were not looking.

It transpired that the town was cut off, and that the electricity would be repaired later that day if the crew could get out to where the break was. But the roads were not likely to be passable for several days. As Paula gave us this news, she looked me straight in my eyes, and smiled. I smiled back, though my words for the others were not what I felt.

I was marooned there with Paula for three more days. The elderly couple stayed down in the bar with the roaring log fire, so it was easy for me to say I needed to do some work in my room for a while, and for Paula to join me before long. We fucked in every position possible, and I discovered that her mouth and throat were as expert as her pussy and her ass in giving me pleasure, and I found that she came to climax so very quickly under my tongue. Sexually we were so compatible.

During the next six months, when on business in the south, I now always broke my journey at the White Hart. I discovered that Paula had an amazing talent to make my body react to hers and reach together heights of passion I had not previously experienced. She also had rather darker tastes, and she led me into a world of which I had read but never played in much. I discovered how much the use of blindfolds and ties could enhance the sensuality of the experience, and that the borderline between pleasure and pain can be found and used to make the feelings just so amazing. We found that region of trust in which we had no secrets, no emotions or feelings barred, and certainly no barriers between us.

I also discovered that she was the most amazingly nice person as well! On my last visit, we were lying in bed early one morning when I reminded her of what she had said about choosing the wrong sort. I asked her what she thought of me in that context. She laughed and told me that I didn’t fit into any category. So I asked her what she would think if I were in the category of husband. She looked at me, and looked again, and rather demurely for a woman that a few minutes earlier had been sucking my cock deep down her throat, asked if I meant that.... and I kissed her and said yes, would she marry me.

YES......YES......oh Fucking YESSSSS.......

And it has been.....such a great fucking suck yess.........I might want to tell you more....but later!!

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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