A Grope In The Dark

Note: This is a fictional tale about a married woman having sex with a stranger without repercussions. If that offends you or you're not quite sure what that means, please read something else.

My husband Roger and I were driving across Wyoming when we were trapped by a giant ice storm. I-80 was completely shut down in both directions as highway patrol directed everyone off the freeway. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so the road was packed. Every available motel room was filled in no time. We were taken in by a nice family of Mormons who fed us -- apparently they always have a stockpile of food available for emergencies – and allowed to sleep on the floor in the basement, because all the beds were taken. Five of us slept together in the same room in loose bedrolls made of blankets. When the lights went out it was pitch black except for a night light coming from the bathroom down the hall.

I'm not sure how long I slept, but I was awakened by some movement. I was lying on my left side facing the back of my sleeping husband and the man who was on the other side was gently caressing my hand. If he hadn't been so gentle, if he had been insistent or demanding I might have slapped him away, but this was done very gently and kindly.

In a fog, I thought back to who was next to me. It was a quiet, gentle man, about my age, with attractive eyes and a firm chin. It was not the face of an unkind man or a pervert. I decided to let him continue to rub my hand. The rub turned into more of a massage, as he kneaded the muscles of my hand and wrist. It did feel good, and was harmless. I extended my arm toward him, which let him know I was awake and that I did not disapprove. I gave a gentle sigh, showing that I enjoyed holding hands secretly. It was a bit naughty lying there next to my husband, and I felt a slight thrill.

As he continued his ministrations there was a slight rustling as he repositioned himself somehow, behind my back. He took my hand and repositioned it, wrapping it around something warm and hard. It was his penis!

I could have yanked my hand away. I probably should have, but I was intrigued. I had not felt the penis of a man other than my husband for ten years! It felt pleasurable, hard and soft at the same time, and silky. I felt up and down its length slowly. It throbbed in my hand, like a living thing. I explored at the base of it, and found the man's balls. I rubbed them with the palm of my hand, and they felt full and soft and unthreatening. I contented myself with slowly, silently gliding my hand up and down over this man's penis while listening to my husband gently snore next to me.

"What is the harm?" I thought. I can do something we both will remember without taking anything away from my husband. I can make this man happy, give him pleasure, and have a little excitement for myself. The more I thought, as I continued to gently rub, the more I became determined to get this guy off. This was going to be fun.

I tightened my grip and began pumping faster. The man joined me with his own hand, adjusting my speed to what he wanted. I did this for a minute, but I didn't want to waste the opportunity by being too hasty. I broke off pumping and took a moment to feel his balls again. From his ragged breathing, I could tell he was enjoying it immensely. I explored the tip, and found a generous amount of precum dripping from it. I was feeling deliciously naughty, so I rubbed the precum onto my fingers and put them into my mouth. It tasted warm, creamy, and very manly. I felt a pulse of wetness in my pussy. I freed my left arm that I was lying on to touch myself, rolling slowly onto my back with my right hand holding this strange man's cock and my husband snoring beside me.

It wasn't my intention, but the man took this as an invitation. He scooted closer, so that his penis lay against my hip on my pajama bottoms. He placed his hand gently on my tummy, and slid it up under my pajama top. He wanted to touch my boob! I gently took his hand and moved it away, placing it on the flat of my stomach. He could touch me but not in my private places. He began to gently rub my tummy and it felt good.

I thought back to the events of the day. It had not been a good one for Roger and me. We never should have taken this stupid trip to see his family. It always wound up in an argument about politics that no one ever won. Roger had been his usual pig-headed self, and in the end we stormed off a day earlier than we had planned.

What's this? The man's hand had worked its way back to my boobs. It was on the outside, gliding gently over one and the other. I felt a little tingle each time it brushed my stiff nipples. I'm sure he could feel them. His touch was so nice that I allowed him to continue.

I had not wanted to take the trip today. I knew the weather forecast. The Wyoming Highway Patrol had an alert on the internet cautioning against travel. I had told Roger, but he blew it off the way he always does. If the news came from a woman it couldn't be that reliable. Bastard.

I realized with a start that while I had been distracted by these thoughts the man's hand had made its way up inside my shirt. It felt lovely. I sighed. If Roger hadn't been such a pig we never would have been here. He deserved a bit of revenge. I decided to let the man continue. I realized that I was no longer stroking his cock. He had done nothing about it. What a nice, patient man! I resumed stroking him, and felt rewarded when he very quietly hummed his approval.

By now, his friendly fingers had begun to pay special attention to my nipples, which were stiff and aching for attention. He swirled his finger around the left one and pushed against it. Then he pinched and pulled it. The sudden wave of pleasure caused me to gasp. Involuntarily, my hips rocked and my pussy moistened. I realized I was holding my breath and let out a giant sigh.

The man took this as further encouragement, and continued to fondle my breasts and squeeze my nipples, each in turn. My sighing, which sounded like encouragement now became actual encouragement. I squirmed, and continued to pump on the man's cock to spur him on. I wanted more. I longed to be touched in a different way.

As I surrendered more and more to my rising lust I hooked my thumbs into my pajamas at the waist, and pulled them down along with my panties. I sat up long enough to pull them to my ankles, and lay back down. As I did so, I pulled my shirt up above my naked breasts. "Here", I thought to myself. "Take what you want!"

As I felt the cool air wash over my body, the man's hand went right to my lower half. He caressed my inner legs with his palm until I could hardly stand it. I pulled my heels up to my buttocks and spread my knees wide in a lewd posture. I thought, "There, stupid! Here's my pussy! Use it for something!"

He got the message. He pushed a finger into my wet pussy and slowly started moving his finger in and out of me. It was delightful! He explored like this for a while, and then pulled his finger out and rubbed it against my clitoris. I jumped. I felt a wave of pleasure rush over my whole body, almost like an orgasm. The man rubbed it again, and a third time. One more time and I was sure I would cum!

But that's not what happened. The man resumed his attack with his fingers, this time inserting two. Starting slowly at first, he increased his pace. This was immensely pleasurable itself. Every time he thrust his fingers inward it was a big "Fuck you!" to my husband Roger. "Fuck you, Roger. Your wife is getting finger banged by a stranger while you lie and snore like a pig because you wouldn't follow her advice. You'll never know, but I'll always know that you were paid back. Paid back in full."

I started absently pinching my own nipples with my free left hand. I focused my attention on the dick in my hand. I started timing my hand strokes to the strokes of the man's fingers inside me. He seemed to like that, and pushed his dick closer in encouragement. Was he imagining that it was inside me? Was my hand supposed to be my pussy? He wanted to fuck me! I imagined that his fingers were his cock, deep inside my pussy, saying "Fuck you!" to Roger, and "I want to come in you!" to me. I imagined he was actually fucking me, with his dick pushing inside of me, over, and over, and over...

And what if I actually let him fuck me? If I let him climb on top and put his big fat dick in my pussy. What if Roger woke up? "Hey, Roger. How about that. He's fucking me. Some stranger is fucking your wife and she likes it. What's that, Roger? No, I'm not going to stop. I'm going to keep on fucking him until we're both done! Turn on a light so you can watch. Maybe I'll let someone else have a go at it too!" As I imagined this, my lust began to grow.

I was still lying on my back there, with my heels next to my buttocks. We increased our pace. He brought the thumb of his hand into action, bumping his thumb into my clitoris with each stroke. That's what finally did it. I felt the rising of a giant orgasm. I raised my pelvis off the floor, pushing my pussy toward the sky lewdly. I probably sustained brain damage by not crying out, but I managed not to. I must have come three times like that with my pussy in the air and a strange man's fingers pistoning in and out of me. I lay back down in a fog of bliss and struggled to regain my breath.

As I became connected to my surroundings, I remembered my stranger. He was still unsatisfied. Well, he certainly deserved to be taken care of. I don't know what I had expected to happen – for my husband to wake up with cum all over me and my bedroll? The solution was obvious.

I scooted down and put the man's cock in my mouth. From the gasps and checks in his breathing I could tell that he loved it. I stroked his shaft and fondled his balls. I ran my tongue around the needy tip of his cock, and sunk my head down on it until I almost gagged. I began bobbing my head up and down rhythmically. The man grabbed a fistful of my hair, but not in a controlling, rude way. He let me move my head freely at my own pace. Finally, when he tensed, I knew it was coming. He blasted a hot dose of fresh cum into my mouth, which I immediately swallowed. This was followed by another and another. I could hardly keep up. Finally it was over, and he collapsed, spent.

I lay there thinking. I don't even know this guy's name. I can't even picture his face. I don't even know if I like him as a person. But I sure like him as a lover. I don't think there will be a future for us – this was just something that happened one night. What would breakfast be like?

I got up to tidy myself and wash off the smell of sex. When I returned to my bedroll, the man was gone. Perhaps he spent the rest of the night in his truck or walking, I don't know, but I imagine he was smiling. I never saw him again. Take that, Roger.