"May I ask you to do something?"

That was the sort of pointless question that always got me going. The only way to proceed was to listen anyway, so why ask? "Okay," I answered, trying to convey my total lack of interest.

The desk clerk seemed unaffected by my attitude. He plunged on, "That young lady in the lounge has just been abandoned by the asshole who promised her a ride. If you're heading for the city, perhaps you could help her out? I'd really appreciate it."

I looked in the direction his chin had pointed and saw a very healthy looking young woman, someone I would never have hesitated to accommodate--before I got married. "I'll have to see what my wife says, but it's alright with me." I hated to think what my wife would say, it seemed like she always said exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear.

"And your wife... ?" the clerk continued, once again pushing my annoyance button.

"My wife," I answered with no show of annoyance, "is finishing up getting dressed; she'll be down with the room key in however long she's gonna need.

"I'll go talk to the young lady and find out what her story is."

I got past her name, Christine, and her destination, along our way, when my wife showed up. "Hello Joan," I said, indicating annoyance at the interruption, "the desk clerk said this young woman was stranded and needed a lift."

"I gathered that," she answered, reflecting my annoyance, "if she wants to ride with us, she's welcome.

"At least I'll have someone to talk to."

"Well, thank you, Joan and umm... Mike, I'll keep my head down and stay out of the line of fire."

My wife developed a crooked grin at the possible sexual reference. The young woman was the kind of passenger men would drive out of their way to accommodate. And that was exactly her problem.

Christine had sold her car and was without wheels when the school break started. One of the school nerds offered a ride which she accepted without checking references. When they had to overnight at the motel, she assumed she could keep him under control, so they split the cost of a room. Bad assumption. He took a shower first and when she finished hers, there he was on his bed, with all of his erect nakedness on display. "Cover that thing up!" she'd told him, trying to keep it light, but his cock was in control and he informed her she would either come across, or find another ride. His ultimatum failed, as far as he was concerned, and he took off.

That was our good fortune. Chris, on close inspection, was more than healthy looking, she was almost beautiful. A nordic type, long blonde hair, slim with long, long legs, tits that were perfect mouthfuls, and a face that made you want to stare at her.

All in all, a major stroke of good fortune for us. She's already got my wife and I to agree on something, I would rather talk to Christine than my wife, any day. "I see your fashion sense id the same as ours," I said to her.

"You mean my sweats? Yeah. Loose clothing feels a lot more comfortable on long rides; elastic waistbands don't bite into your waist."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. That's about the only thing Joan and I agree on."

"Mike!" my wife shrieked at me, "You don't need to jump on every opportunity to complain about your marriage. We can settle that between ourselves--and our lawyers--without bothering strangers with it."

With that, we moved our luggage to our car, where Christine discovered the back seat was loaded and we'd all have to ride in front. "Why don't you sit in the middle," Joan asked, "that way you'll be more comfortable."

"That way we'll all be more comfortable," I agreed.

"Alright," Christine agreed, and we all got in the car. Once we were back on the road, Chris spoke again. "Do you two mind if I make a suggestion?"

"No. Go ahead," I answered.

"Why don't you two talk to me, and I'll translate, so we don't wind up killing each other.

"It seems like you're both about to explode. How long have you two been going at it?"

The question surprised me, and while I was thinking about the answer, my wife told her. "Almost a year."

"Yeah," I confirmed, "That's about right."

"Well stop it for awhile. Make believe you're alone in the car with me. How's that?"

And that's how we proceeded. We talked for hours, Christine talking to me, and Christine talking to Joan. What was really strange, was I began to like Joan more as she talked about herself; it even seemed she like me a little, from the way she talked about me. Twice, the women offered to take turn driving, but I said I was happy so they let me. Along about the fourth hour since we left the motel, I noticed I had an erection sprouting and I finally figured out the cause. "Joan!" I said in mock shock, " Chris has her hand on my thigh and she's rubbing me up and down."

My wife's answer was friendly and amused, it was magic that we'd started talking again. "Do you need to be rescued?"

"No. I like it. What should I do?"

"Just enjoy yourself. She's doing the same thing to me." And when I glanced over there I could see she was telling the truth.

Now her touch became even more familiar as her thumb began rubbing my cock. Poor cock. Pushing up and trying to get out as this temptress kept teasing it back into life. "Dear. My cock is getting too big. What should I do?"

When I didn't get an answer, I looked and my wife had a hand in her pants. She was slumping down in her seat and I could hear how loud she was breathing. "The hell with it!" I said, so I let the wheel go so I could pull my pants down to my thighs. Boy! It felt good, letting my engorged cock stretch out.

Christine, bless her beautiful heart, was not saying a word. She was doing something with Joan's pussy that had her acting crazy, and she grabbed hold of my cock and began wanking it up and down.

Two can play that game. I took my left arm an slid it under Christine's sweatshirt, around her slim body, and gingerly fondled her right breast. Heaven. Such a beautiful woman, and she was letting me. So that's how we proceeded down the road, one of her hands in my wife's crotch, the other one fondling my cock, and me, loving it all, playing with a perfect tit.

"Oh. Oh. Oh my god! Here I come. I'm coming, I'm coming, don't stop it." Joan was screaming and panting and clutching my hand through the shirt, as it continued fondling the tit. "Oooooh."

And then she was just collapsed in her seat, panting like she'd finished her marathon.

A gentle laughter emerged from Christine, the first sounds she'd uttered in miles. "That was fun," she said.

"Are you an angel?" I asked.

"Do I look like one?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Well. Maybe I am. But it's news to me too." She was looking at me, her right hand had been retrieved from its mission, and she was looking with amusement at me. Suddenly, she leaned over my lap to become angelic again.

First I could feel her breath, then her hair, tickling me. She kissed the tip of my cock with a quick sisterly peck.

Then she took my breath away. Her closed lips began pushing down as the tip of her tongue followed. I could feel my cock entering this tight, warm, moist opening. Then deeper, deeper, as her tongue began caressing the underside of my cock. "There's a rest are coming. I'm gonna pull off. Please don't stop what you're doing." She hadn't even finished the instroke and already she'd profoundly affected my breathing.

It was a large rest area; we pulled into the most remote parking spot there, and as I turned off the engine and leaned back, Chris reached a hand around to grasp the base of my cock. What a beautiful heaven my body had traveled to.

The hand that was on her breast moved down into her pants, it traveled across her buttocks, slid down the valley between the, and tickled her anus before reaching and clutching her pussy. It was so wet, so inviting, so I slipped a finger in.

I could feel her sweatpants sliding down her body. Joan was at work. I could feel her head as it moved up between Christine's legs. Down on the floor, Joan was doing a job on Chris, and my hand, in the middle, was sometimes caressing Joan.

Now my blowjob was in full swing. Sometimes her hand held me still as her mouth took me in and let me out, sometimes her mouth stopped while her hand jerked up and down. But what started in perfect rhythm became staccato. I could feel tremors in her stomach, hips twisting, moans blowing past my penis. Joan was dividing Christine's attention, between the job at hand and the job being done on her.