Road Trip Rogue

Text copyright 2013

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction.

Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead,

would not only be purely coincidental, but also a complete surprise.

The material found in this story contains sexually explicit situations

and is intended for a mature audience only.

All persons portrayed in this story are 18 years of age or older.

Ch. 1: Spouses in the Front Seat

It was late spring when my wife and I joined two couples for a bizarre evening. The six of us piled into a Chevrolet Impala for a two hour road trip and an evening at Hymel's, a dive of a restaurant on the banks of the Mississippi River. It was during the drive back home that my life changed.

We were all in our twenties and generally considered ourselves up-and-coming professionals. The core of our group was us three guys. We had met in college through our fraternities. My best friend Robert was the manager of a floral business. He was a big, soft blond and probably the best looking one of the bunch, which might explain his obvious confidence.

All three of our women were gorgeous and his wife Sharon was especially attractive that night. Through the beginnings of my alcohol-induced fog I had to discipline myself to keep from staring at her. Sharon was normally a prim and proper mom who was in the banking business like me. But tonight she was out on the town sporting a low-cut green, silky dress without a bra, emphasizing her sensual side. Sharon was buxom, with short platinum-blond hair, and very nice curves that jiggled subtly as she moved.

Okay, it's obvious I had an extra attraction for Sharon. I know I should have felt guilty about leering at my best friend's wife, but I didn't. Also, you'll notice that I do a much more thorough job describing the women. What can I say? I'm a guy.

I'm Dave and I work at a bank headquarters. I used to consider myself a nice guy but now I'm not sure. I lifted weights so I was the most bulked up of us three guys, which wasn't saying much.

The love of my life was Ellen. She taught at a middle school and took her profession seriously, which I admired. But on that evening I was more aware of being around three attractive women and having at least this one to admire without guilt or fear of being caught. My wife was the picture of health and beauty. She ran an hour every day of the week and had that tall, thin runner's build with virtually no bosom. Of course that was fine by me.

Ellen was not only a gorgeous brunette; she was my gorgeous brunette. She had bangs and long hair. Her big blue eyes were almost as much of a distraction as her luscious full lips. I was totally and hopelessly in love with the future mother of my children.

Ozzie was a contractor in his dad's business. He was average height, weight, and build. Everyone in our group was somewhat competitive but Ozzie was more open about it, which could be irritating and sometimes insulting.

We were all easy-going and friendly except for Ozzie's girlfriend Paula. In general she was fun to be around, but Paula could be intense and even confrontational. She was younger than the rest of us and the only one not college educated. She wasn't even from the "right side" of town. But she was bright and her personality fit in with ours even though she was obviously an outsider to our close-knit group.

Paula's appearance matched her personality. Her hair was brown, somewhat curly, and short but always a little messed up and bushy. Peeking out from behind long bangs were dreamy eyes. She had a little bit of a belly, but she had a nice round butt. She was a smoker, which fit with her noticeable I don't give a shit attitude. Paula was sexy without trying. She and Ozzie were the only members of our group not married, and she was a Project Clerk at Ozzie's family construction company.

The trip to the restaurant was uneventful except that we let Paula drive the car. She drove aggressively and cursed the other drivers like a sailor. Ozzie enjoyed her antics and her driving became so entertaining it contributed to our group's good time.

We talked loud and fast and drank beer when we weren't laughing and making good-natured fun of each other. With three of us in the front seat and three in the back, it made for a circus of animated conversation.

And the fun didn't stop when we got to Hymel's. The place was famous for messy boiled crawfish, huge goblets of beer, and wax-paper table cloths that were thrown away when customers left. As we got drunk we began to disclose details about our private lives.

"Does anyone besides my husband have sex in their sleep?" asked Sharon.

She was halfway out of her chair laughing and gesturing. Her question caused an immediate uproar at the table. Robert just sat there with a wide, shit-eating grin on his mustached face.

"Robert always just takes what he wants!" slurred Ozzie.

"Does he actually come in his sleep?" squealed Paula.

Sharon ignored Ozzie's comment, "Well, Paula, to be truthful, he seems to wake up about the time he's getting good and excited. But I can tell he's dreaming about someone else, because he's always surprised to see me."

Paula crowed loudly with laughter, and if we had been any place but Hymel's it would have silenced the restaurant. Robert, the midnight sleep lover, continued to grin with pride.

That's when my wife, Ellen, expressed genuine concern, "Isn't it a little rough on you, Sharon, to be waked up in the middle of the night like that with no foreplay?"

Sharon turned toward her with a wry grin. "Oh, there's foreplay okay!" she snorted, "He does better foreplay in his sleep than he does when he's awake! In fact, I'm disappointed if he wakes up too soon."

Even Ozzie had to laugh grudgingly at that.

Robert added to his wife's comments: "One time I woke up with my face buried right in Sharon's naked pussy. And I had her lifted up in the air with my hands under her butt. When I realized where I was I wanted to go back to sleep but she made me keep going."

What a great time with good friends. We laughed until our sides hurt. Paula cuddled up to Ozzie like they were honeymooners and apparently felt she needed to respond.

"Well, my man doesn't move me in the middle of the night like that, but he definitely keeps me satisfied."

Now it was Ozzie's turn to sit and grin.

Paula added, "Every day." That made the rest of us moan with embarrassment but Paula just wouldn't stop, "Sometimes three or four times in one day."

Now that was funny. I probably laughed harder than anybody. Then I noticed that my friends had turned to look with anticipation at my wife. An "Oh shit!" escaped from my lips as Ellen took a breath to speak.

"My husband never wants to make love after his bedtime. And he never wants to have sex more than one time in a day and maybe just once or twice a week. But I love a few things about Dave. He likes cunnilingus, he's a pro with my G-spot, and he has a large penis. Sometimes it feels too large."

Sharon cackled through the loud commotion that resulted, "I promise a large penis will be especially treasured after you've had a baby."

This was not nearly as funny as when the joke was on someone else. I couldn't reach my wife to shut her up so I yelled over the roar of the table, "Baby, I never told you I had a big dick; I just never corrected you. Don't you know every guy convinces his wife that he's big?"

Of course, without responding to me, my wife added, "And if I manage him right I can get all the satisfaction I need, every time."

Not only was our table rowdy with laughter, apparently we had also been entertaining the tables around us. Even the waitress made a lewd joke about wanting to see if I was big enough to reach the bottom of one of their supersized beer mugs. It was all very embarrassing so I was glad when Paula turned the attention away from me.

"What kind of birth control do ya'll use?" she asked.

Robert and I glanced at each other but it was my wife who spoke up first. "We use foam. I tried the pill but it put so much weight on me I got scared. What do you use?"

"I'm on the pill, but you're right about it putting on some pounds." Paula thumped her belly as if to show that she thought it was worth it. "I guess foam works for ya'll since you don't have sex that often. I'd probably drown in it if I had to use foam every time we had sex."

I could feel my face go beet red over the implication that I could not get it up very often. And it actually pissed me off that Paula and Ozzie seemed to glory over that fact. I looked over at my wife and she also was red-faced.

Paula dismissed us and turned to Sharon and Robert, "So what do ya'll use?"

After a brief hesitation Sharon answered, "The Rhythm Method."

"What is that?"

"We're kind of old-school Catholics and we don't use medicinal types of birth control for religious reasons," Sharon patiently explained. "We simply don't have genital sex during the part of the month when I could be ovulating." Sharon turned to her husband with a knowing smile, "Except of course for that one time when we sleep-fucked and we have a baby to show for that."

"That sounds like a nightmare!" Paula said with a look of horror. "I would never even try something that risky. And as far as the sex goes, my ovulation days are my hottest days. I just have to have it right then," she added with a smug smile.

"She's right." confirmed Ozzie. "That's when Paula's as hot as a firecracker and sex is the best." Then Ozzie's face lit up with an idea for a probing question. He smirked at Robert, "So, is tonight going to be one of your lucky nights?"

Robert didn't seem fazed, "We picked this weekend to get together with ya'll in order to distract ourselves, because tonight is a no-go."

Everyone at the table chuckled and automatically looked over to Sharon who was blushing even as she laughed.

We proceeded to drink and eat crawfish until we were tired and it was time to go. The girls made a long bathroom visit as the guys paid up and then staggered into the foggy parking lot to wait for them. It was an opportunity for us to talk about the girls and for Robert to tease me.

"Congratulations, Dave; your wife has really bought into that line about your having a big dick. I've been trying to convince my wife I have a big dick for years but she just won't believe it."

"Oh shit, that was embarrassing," I said. "At least you two seemed proud of what we were teasing you about."

Ozzie leaned too close and bragged loudly, "I'm more than just proud. Paula is a hot fuck and she's also making loads of money for me. Paula isn't like your wives. She's kind of a low class bitch. But I keep her around because she has gotten to where she runs our entire company. My dad and I don't do a damn thing. And on top of that she's been fucking me like a rabbit ever since I popped her cherry last year." There is an unspoken rule in the Deep South that you don't talk trash about your wife or girlfriend, just any other woman on the planet. Ozzie apparently had never heard about that gentleman's understanding.

It was probably because he was drunk, but this was strong language even for Ozzie. Then he really broke through the social boundaries. "You two should get me to fuck your wives," he announced, slurring his words. "They're college educated and could probably really make you rich once I start motivating them. And I wouldn't even charge you much."

I don't know about the rest of the world, but in our corner of it you don't even joke about that shit. Ozzie's suggestion was still sinking into my brain as I watched Robert's red-faced, flustered reaction.

"I don't think you could possibly help me. I've trained myself in bedroom control skills with the Rhythm Method that you guys could never master."

Ozzie just grinned but I was a little surprised that my best friend was directing his comments to me as much as to Ozzie.

Robert kept going. "If I got my hands on Paula I'd bounce her pussy so hard her little titties would jiggle all over the house. And I'd save my best for Ellen's pussy. I'd get those long legs flying every which way and I'd have her squealing like a pig, EEEEEEE!"

It hurt a little bit that Robert had turned his wrath toward me. We stood still in the silent parking lot waiting to see what would happen. Ozzie started snickering and before it was over we were all three folded over laughing. In general I thought it was all pretty funny. But I didn't think it was so funny that his imitation of Ellen was fairly close to her real life bedroom shriek.

The girls came outside in a good mood and we discussed who would be the best driver for the two hour trip home. I was the first to speak, "I'm exhausted and I need some sleep."

My wife chimed in, "I told you. It's past his bedtime." I wasn't offended and stumbled into her for an awkward kiss. Even a simple kiss from her could knock my socks off. I automatically patted her on the bottom but it was in front of everyone causing her to let out a nervous giggle before continuing, "I'm awake enough to drive but I still feel a little drunk."

Ozzie was completely drunk but that didn't stop him. "I can drive." he said too loudly. He proceeded to stagger toward the driver's side of the car.

"Hell, no!" said Robert, stepping between Ozzie and the car. "You're not driving my car." Robert turned to the rest of us and commented jokingly, "It must be a law of nature that the drunkest person in any group is the one who wants to drive."

Ozzie was a good sport and laughed at himself along with the rest of us. Paula commented that she also was too drunk to drive.

Robert took charge, "I can drive. I quit drinking an hour ago," he assured us and then turned to my wife. "Maybe you can keep me company in the front seat."

That worked out well because everyone else was either too drunk or too tired to even think about driving. All four of us sleepers wanted to be in the back seat away from the front seat talkers and away from the radio. We knew it would be crowded back there but that was just part of the fun. As we giggled and crawled into the back seat we tried a boy-girl-boy-girl arrangement. Except for Sharon's dress we were all wearing shorts which led to a lot of thigh contact.

"Hey, Dave, you're crammed up against my legs," Paula complained.

Sharon solved the impasse by asking my wife, "Ellen, you don't mind if I sit on your husband's lap do you?"

"No, but don't get your feelings hurt if he ignores you. He's about to pass out."

Sharon was already placing her hands on my bare thighs and settling onto my lap. I couldn't help but touch her waist and hips with my fingertips but she didn't seem to mind. Without thinking I commented, "Wow you're nice and soft."

"Are you saying I have a fat ass?" she joked.

"Don't worry," my wife told her. "He'll love having your soft butt in his lap."

"Well, if that's the case, what happens if I bump into that large penis problem?"

I groaned, "Oh no, not that again," to everyone's delight.

My wife told Sharon, "In just a couple of minutes the only thing hard you'll be feeling is his knee bone, because he'll be snoring."

Sharon retorted, "Well, okay. And by the way, Ellen; if my husband starts hunching on the steering wheel, wake him up." That joke made everyone chuckle and it somehow signaled the end of our partying.

We settled into our seats and Robert started the car. Ellen turned on the radio and cranked the sound up, then cracked open the windows, apparently hoping the music and rushing wind would help Robert stay alert. But as he started driving, there was a problem. The humidity was so bad that the windshield misted over on the inside. Robert pulled out onto the highway with the wipers going but we were all tense over his lack of ability to see the road.

I told Ellen, "Hey, babe, wipe off the inside of the windshield and see if that helps."

My drunk, adorable wife dutifully cleaned the glass right in front of herself. Sharon and I giggled as I corrected Ellen. "No, babe; I meant wipe the part of the windshield in front of Robert so he can see."

"Oh, right," she said, laughing at herself. She started to reach in front of Robert then hesitated. "This windshield is really wet. I need a rag."

We fumbled around in the car looking for something to use while Robert hunched forward and squinted, trying to stay on the road.

"Here, just use my t-shirt." I said, pulling it over my head and handing it forward.

"Eww," Ozzie grimaced. "Dave's always trying to show off his bare chest. Too bad it won't do him any good in the dark."

My wife ignored Ozzie, "Thanks, babe," she said to me. She leaned in front of Robert and cleaned the glass. With a clear view of the highway, he was finally able to accelerate but within seconds a new layer of condensation started forming.

"It looks like I'll have to keep doing this because the inside is misting over again," my wife announced, and scooted over to sit right next to Robert.

It appeared we were all settled until Sharon squirmed in my lap and turned to look at me with a slightly drunken smile. She placed a palm gently on my shoulder and moved it across my chest as if she was caressing my pec muscles. She and I laughed at her silent little teasing joke and she turned to face forward again. But she kept fidgeting, unable to find a comfortable position. It was difficult for me to relax with her moving around so much.

The next thing Sharon did shocked my senses into high alert. After telling Ellen, "You're right; Dave does have a bony knee," she proceeded to ride my leg cowboy style, rubbing her crotch on my thigh. The back of her dress slid up and I could feel her panties and naked thighs rubbing along my bare legs. My hands flew to grasp her delicate waist and I closed my legs together around her thigh, but I didn't know whether to stop her or go along.

After just a few back-and-forth movements she laughed an evil little chuckle and stopped. She leered back at me then rested against the side window and began to relax. But our naked thighs were still pressed together.

Sharon seemed to think this was all totally innocent, but I was in a panic. We were sitting behind her husband Robert, but fortunately he could not see us easily in the rearview mirror. And even though my wife had never taken her eyes off the road except to chat with Robert it would have been easy for her to turn around and see Sharon's pussy-pushing game. I glanced to the right where Paula and Ozzie were snuggling with their eyes closed preparing to nap, so they did not present a problem.

Apparently I was the only one worried. However, my dick wasn't worried; it was standing at attention against my stomach. Thank goodness Sharon wasn't sitting further back or she would've felt the seriousness of my predicament. It occurred to me that this could become a funny story if I spun it right. Even though Sharon's pussy felt like a hot, burning ember on my leg, apparently she was too drunk to know what she had done to me. It would take a little determination on my part, but all I had to do was ignore it.

But then her obviously turned-on pussy leaked moisture onto my leg. Her body tensed with the realization, and so did my penis. Sharon had clearly gotten a thrill out of her cowgirl thigh-rubbing routine. Slowly she turned her head toward me and leaned back against my chest, our cheeks touching.

"Oops..." she whispered in my ear with an embarrassed chuckle.

"That's okay," I responded stupidly, intensely aware of the smell of her hair and the feel of her silky dress.

This did not have to be a problem. All I had to do was move Sharon to the correct position on my lap. I nudged her waist with my hands to get her to sit on both of my legs. She misinterpreted what I wanted and slid back, pressing firmly against my raging hard-on. I could almost feel her ass jiggle as she flinched and stopped moving.