4 comments/ 18545 views/ 3 favorites Silla's Storm By: 2Xwidderwoman BANG! BANG! BANG! "Answer the door, Elaine." She does not know if her words are spoken or merely thought. BANG! BANG! BANG! This time, despite the roaring inside her head, she is more insistent. "Elaine, answer the door." The third time she hears the banging, she rolls over, tries to open her eyes, but finds she cannot focus, so she squeezes her eyes shut and groans. The roar in her ears and her headache is so bad she cannot bear to open her eyes as she stands to feel her way across to the bedroom door. After four small steps her forehead slams into something solid. "OW." Startled, she opens her eyes and sees she has walked into a wall. She looks around in a panic, this is not her bedroom. AND, SHE IS NAKED. HER FACE HURTS. HER THROAT IS RAW. HER SCALP BURNS. ABRASIONS SURROUND HER WRISTS. THE FLESH AROUND HER ANKLES IS RAW. That is when she screams. Her scream is long, loud, and horrifying. Running across the room, through a door and across another room, she bursts out a door to find herself stumbling out into a hall, her voice still screaming louder than she could have ever imagined. She runs toward a light at the end of the hall, as a large man seems to rise out of nowhere, stopping her in her headlong run. First, it is just his head, then his shoulders and finally his whole body appears, as he steps up into the hallway. "WHAT THE HELL," his exclamation is frightening as he looks at her and advances, taking long strides down the hall. Backing up a few steps, she turns and flees from the man, not caring where she is going, just getting away for him. Despite her trembling legs, the roar in her head, and blurred vision, she bounces off the opposite wall and takes a few more steps. "HEY!" He yells. Catching up with her in a few strides, he puts his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side, lifting her off her feet. "STOP" he yells. "STOP FIGHTING ME. I WON'T HURT YOU." Relieved of supporting her own weight she kicks and twists. "LET ME GO. LET ME GO," she screams. His arms tighten, "I'll let you go as soon as you stop fighting," he growls in her ear. "What are you doing here?" "I don't know. Let me go." She slams her head back, still struggling to get away. "Oof, dammit, stop it," he complains about being butted on the chin with the back of her head. He tries to turn her around, without letting go of her arms, while struggling to keep his knee between her thrashing legs. Knowing she hit the man hard enough to hurt him, she resists being turned. She slams her head back one more time and then goes limp. Unable to turn her and fearing he will drop her, the man goes down to the floor, taking the young girl with him. They land on their sides. Quickly, he rolls over on top of her. Grabbing her wrists as she fights him,, he raises them above her head and lets his body weight hold her down so she can't move. "OW, LET ME GO." She screams when his hands twist her wrists. Panting from the exertion, both of them look at each other. "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her, panting, and trying to speak softly. He tries to smile, but only manages a softening of the expression on his face. "Let me go," she pleads. "You're hurting me." Loosening his grip, he says, "I'm going to, but don't you move. You understand?" She nods and feels his weight easing off of her. He takes her arms, one at a time and lowers them to her sides, puts his hands under her arms and sits her up, as he rests back on his knees. He looks at her pert breasts, seeing someone has treated them pretty roughly. There are teeth marks around her nipples. He slowly lifts his hand and brushes her hair out of her face. She jerks her head when he touches the dark blue mark on one cheek. He picks up one of her hands and turns it, looking at the raw skin encircling her wrist. It looks like someone tied her up. He has seen these marks before, but on older women who enjoy heavy bondage or rough sexual experiences. He sees the same marks on her ankles and is disgusted by the thought that this young woman would need to be tied up to get a sexual thrill. "So, you like it rough, huh?" He asks the naked young girl. He sees the blank look on her face. She either does not want to answer or considers his question none of his business. The roaring inside her head and her inability to focus her eyes causes her to stare at him, unable to hear a word he says. "Why didn't you leave?" He asks as he stands and holds out his hand to her. She takes the offered hand and pulls herself up. Her legs are trembling. "Leave?" she asks, knowing her voice is trembling, too. "Yeah. Evacuate. The notice went out before daylight. Why didn't you leave? Where's you clothes?" "Where ... where ... am I?" Her words are hesitant as she stumbles through her question, still looking around, unable to orient herself. He holds his arm out to indicate the long hallway in front of them, "Where do you live?" She wraps her arms around herself, realizing she is naked and answers, "Bayside." "No," he corrects her. "I mean which door?" "I ... I don't ... I don't live here." She looks up at him shaking her head. Realizing this young woman is very confused, he asks, "What happened to you?" She shakes her head again, trying to get rid of the roaring in her head. "I don't know. I woke up." She looks up and down the hall. All of the doors are the same. "I thought someone was knocking. My sister ... she didn't answer." He walks to the nearest door and tries the doorknob, but it's locked. He continues down the hall, alternating sides, trying door after door. At the end of the hall he beckons to her, to come with him, but she shakes her head. He raises his voice, "Come on, we need to find you something to wear. There's no one here to see you." With hesitating steps, she begins walking toward the man, who waits patiently. As she nears him, he takes the first steps up the partially enclosed stairwell. Only when she takes her first step upward does she realize where the roaring sound inside her head is coming from. A strong gust of wind hits her. She drops to one knee and then stands upright, watching a small trickle of blood running down her leg from the rough texture of the steps. If she hadn't been holding the handrail, her fall would have been worse. Heavy rain falling off the roof of the covered stairs tells her she is in the middle of a storm. She follows the man up the exposed stairs and enters a hall, a duplicate of the hallway she just left. At the first door on the left, the man stops and uses a key to open the door. He walks inside and holds the door open for her. "Well, you certainly look better than you did an hour ago. By the way, I'm Jack Brenner." "I'm ah ... Silla, ah, Priscilla Benton. Yeah, I'm Priscilla Benton," she answers, pulling the borrowed t-shirt down over the multiple rolls of Jack's pajama bottoms at her waist. She sits on the bar stool beside Jack. Jack chuckles and pushes a cup of coffee toward Silla. "Are you sure about that?" "Huh?" Silla looks up from taking a sip of the scalding coffee. Her throat is so raw, she is almost afraid to swallow. "I was teasing you Silla" Jack admits, grinning. However, his face turns serious, when he asks, "Do you want to tell me about those?" He nods at the raw marks around her wrists. They no longer look as angry as they did when he first saw them. Maybe the shower and the first aid cream helped. Silla looks at the marks on her wrists, and then lifts one leg to look at her ankle, shaking her head. Tears form in her eyes, "I don't know, Jack. Honest, I don't know." "How did you get here?" "I ... don't know," she wails, drops her hands to her lap, one hand going between her legs. "Someone ...," her voice drops to a whisper, "Someone shaved me." By carefully questioning Silla, Jack learns she has lost a whole day. She and several other young friends in their early twenties came to the island for an early summer party, aware that a tropical storm was several days away, but not expected to actually strike the island. Her last memory of a weather bulletin was a prediction that the storm would strike the coast, more than two hundred miles farther south. The stormy weather was expected to cause higher than normal surf, which a few of the party goers were looking forward to surfing. One of her friends obtained permission from her parents, for Silla and several other girlfriends to spend the night in their condominium, a few miles away. After a party on the beach, the girls expected to have an old fashioned slumber party. They planned to paint each other's toenails, talk about their boyfriends, and watch several "skin flicks" the hostess said her parents kept hidden in the hall closet. Jack watches the young woman, knowing at forty-three, he is nearly old enough to be her father. She is a pretty little thing, swallowed up by his t-shirt and the pants to a pair of soft cotton pajamas his sister gave him. The pants legs must be rolled up at least a foot to get them short enough for her to walk in, despite the top being rolled down and bunched around her waist. He already knows her breasts are generous, with light brown areolas and large prominent nipples he can see are pushing against the front of the t-shirt. Her face is square, framed by light brown hair, still wet from her shower, curls under her jaw and barely covers her neck in back. Dark brows arch above her dark brown eyes, one of which shows a bruise on her upper lid, the tender skin below, and to the outside of her eye. Her mouth is wide with a generous lower lip. He can imagine the shape of her mouth encourages young men to sample her softness. "I'm sorry I can't take you to a hospital for a rape test. The beach road is already washed out and the main road is flooded." "A rape test," Silla says with a shudder. "You think ...." The fear showing on her face shows Jack she has not considered the full consequences of what may have happened to her. Jack nods and tells her, "Yes, and the possibility of STDs." "S. T. D.?" Silla asks, as if she does not understand what he means. "Yes," he answers, "A Sexually Transmitted Disease. It's not only a possibility, it's a probability." "Oh god," Silla groans burying her face in her hands. Standing at the door, those memories of the confusing time she was here, rush through her head. Silla takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. She hears the lock being turned and tries to paste a smile on her face. "Hello, Jack," Silla says quietly. "Silla?" He asks, afraid to admit he barely recognizes her. "Oh my god, Silla," he says putting his hands on her upper arms, pulling her into his apartment, slamming the door behind them as he wraps his arms around her. "Oh, Silla," he says, pushing her away from him, "Let me look at you." Silla lowers her arms from the mutual hug and wipes the tears from her eyes. She was not sure how she would be received. The five days she spent with Jack were very difficult for her, and for him. For one full day and part of a night, a tropical storm battered the condominium. The roads washed away, sand dunes were flattened, and their isolation brought them together in a mutual need to hear another human voice. When the electricity failed, they spent their days in heavy humidity, heat, and isolation, by learning about each other. Jack, injured in his first year as a professional football player, has finally left the corporate world, stashed his savings with a trusted investment counselor, and "retired" to pursue his real ambition. He has one book at the printers, and is nervously working on a sequel. Silla, after college, is tackling her first real job and insecure about her future. After the loss of electricity, every meal was a challenge. The second day they discovered there was no water pressure. Clothing for Silla was laughable. Anything that fit Jack's 6'5," 280 pound frame, swallowed Silla's 5'4" 120 pound size. "Oh baby," he says. "Please don't," he puts his hands on her face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Not wanting him to watch her cry, Silla puts her arms around his neck and pushes her face against his shirt. All Jack knows to do is put his arms back around her and hold her, slowly rocking her from side to side. The last time he saw this young woman, he left her at the front door of her apartment, feeling she was safe in the hands of her older sister. She was bruised, bitten, and more frightened than he has ever seen another human being. He talked to her a week later and feared she was worse than when he left her. He broke his personal code of ethics, he meddled in her life. He called her sister to say Silla needed help. And, here she is today, two months later. She may be a little shaky, but she is healing. Finally able to control herself, Silla takes a step backward. "Will you make me a cup of coffee?" "Sure," Jack answers walking around her and moving into the kitchen. As he measures the coffee and fills the coffee maker's reservoir with water, he watches Silla look around his apartment, where he knows nothing has changed. Finally she walks across the room and lifts one hip to sit on the high backed stool at the bar. Jack remembers his first close examination of the young girl, and recalls an erection growing. He called himself every kind of a fool for letting her affect him so easily, but it did not stop him from wanting her. Nothing has changed. She can still cause the same reaction. He stands leaning against the kitchen cabinet, almost afraid to get too close to her. Today she is not wounded, she is vibrant. Her dark hair shines. She is wearing a little makeup and something on her gorgeous lips that make them shine when she turns her head. No longer dressed in one of his t-shirts and the bottoms to his pajamas or a pair of his old athletic shorts, she is wearing a summer dress. The backless halter top leaves her shoulders and arms bare. The front splits, forming a cup for each breast and shows a deep cleavage. His fingers itch to touch her breasts. He knows exactly what her breasts look like. He photographed her injuries and saved the photos on his computer. Their conversation finally eases into a comfortable level as she asks about the short-term and long-term tenants of the condominium, how many have returned and how many have put their condo on the market. The island was evacuated, but Jack stayed to weather the storm, feeling it was his duty as the president of the homeowner's association. There is still no full-time guard. "Oh, I didn't tell you. The maintenance man found your clothes." "Really?" Silla asks, shaking her head. "Where?" "Shoes, shorts, shirt, and underwear all stuffed into a plastic bag and tossed into the swimming pool." "The swimming pool? But how did...," she asks. Jack interrupts. "I played private detective. I didn't tell anyone. But I took the master maintenance key and went into every unit on the floor below that has frontage on the swimming pool. I tossed a similar bag from the deck of each unit. Hit the pool every time." "So there's no way to know which unit I was in?" Silla asks as Jack pours their coffee. He turns for a moment holding up the sugar jar, but Silla shakes her head. "Nope. But, I know who owns each of those units, so I'm going to figure it out." Jack answers the question as he walks around the bar to join her, placing a cup of coffee in front of her. Silla turns her chair to face Jack, places her hand on his leg and says, quietly, "Please don't." "I thought that's why you ..." Silla shakes her head. "No, I don't want to know. I need to put it behind me. I need your help." "Oh, okay," Jack says and waits for a moment. When Silla says nothing, he asks, "What can I do for you?" Instead of answering his question, Silla stands and walks across the room to look out the glass sliding doors across his sunny lanai, remembering the hard winds and heavy rain. All during her stay with Jack, she walked to those doors and stood looking at the beach and the waves beyond. Jack moves behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and asks, "What's wrong, Silla?" Silla leans back against Jack, pulling his hands down to wrap them around her. "I can't ...," she stops and takes a deep breath. "I don't want to be touched." Jack says nothing, knowing she can feel his erection, but he does not care, he just wants to touch her. "I watched you, you know," she says quietly. "You watched?" "You'd get an erection when you looked at me. Women don't get an erection or you would have known." "Known what?" Turning around inside the circle of his arms, Silla puts her arms around his neck, rises to her toes and kisses Jack, brushing her tongue across his lips and pushing her tongue into his mouth, but does not get the response she expected. When she is once again standing in front of him, she steps back, leaving her shoes where she stood and reaches up behind her neck to untie the halter of her dress, allowing the front of her dress to drop below her waist. "See, no more bruises," she announces, holding her arms out to give him a full view. Jack stands and stares at the beauty of her breasts. He has seen them dark with bruises, but now the bruises are gone. Her breasts are round and full with a faint tracing of the blood vessels below the surface of her pale flesh. She has a lushness which will grow as she matures. The areolas are light brown, the nipples becoming pronounced in the cool of the air conditioning. His erection hardens, painfully so. Jack takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. "Jack, please touch me," Silla pleads. When he does not move, Silla releases a sob, grabs the top of her dress, and rushes across the room. Jack catches her before she can turn the doorknob. He turns her around and roughly backs her against the door, lifting her off her feet, grinding his hips into hers, his mouth searching for hers as his hands hold her breasts, his thumbs moving across the hard nipples. He drops to his knees, pulling her with him, and falls back, taking her down with him. He seeks one breast, opening his mouth to take as much of her into his mouth as he can manage. He rolls her to the side, leaves the breast wet as he moves his mouth to the other breast, suckling and leaving it wet. Pushing against her, he moves her to her back and returns to the first breast. His groans of pleasure are almost smothered as Silla pushes his head against herself. His hand moves down her body, until he can get his hand under the shirt and finds she is not wearing underwear. He cups his hand around the heat of her and pulls her skirt up until he can get his mouth to the softness of her belly. He can smell her, not a perfume, the sharpness of her sex. He leaves wet kisses on her belly. The hair around her pussy, once shaved is now dark, barely covering her. He buries his mouth in the sweetness of her, taking a deep breath, his lips seeking to take all of her into his mouth. His sudden need for her satisfied, he slows down to enjoy her, listening to her moan. He pushes his tongue between the lips and slowly raises his head, tasting her, savoring her, spreading her juice up across the small bud. Again and again he goes back for more, pushing his tongue as deep into her as he can manage. He has dreamed of her taste, but none of the dreams compare to this reality. She is exquisite. "Oh god, Jack. Oh. Oh. Jack." She shudders. "Please, don't stop. Wait, wait, Jack," Silla struggles to get away from the intensity of his mouth. Before she can say another word, he is back at her mouth, kissing her. His tongue goes in and out of her mouth, brushing across the sharpness of her teeth, sharing her taste with her, sucking her luscious lower lip into his mouth, wanting more of her. Silla's Storm He puts his arms around her and rolls her over on top of him and holds her face up to look at her. "Jack," she says his name, but he doesn't seem to hear. "Jack," she says, again. "Oh baby. Damn, I thought I'd never get the chance to taste you and now I don't want to stop." Resting her head on his shoulder for a moment, Silla asks, "Can we at least get off the floor and find somewhere more comfortable." "No, I'm afraid you will leave," he answers roughly, holding her so tight she can barely breathe. "Please Jack. I promise. I will not leave. Can we go to your bed?" "No, I don't want to let go of you," his voice is not as rough, but he has not loosened his arms. "I can't breathe," Silla complains. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologizes and loosens his grip, but he does not let go of her. Slowly Silla slides off of him, as he rolls to the side, not allowing her out off his arms. "I thought you didn't want me." "Lord, woman, how could I not want you? You drove me crazy for five days," Jack admits. "I didn't mean to," she tells him. "Really, I didn't. I was frightened of you, at first." "I know you were frightened. You'd had a terrifying experience. You were hurting and I wanted to hold you, but I knew I wouldn't stop if I touched you." Silla nods her head, her hair brushing across his cheek. "Can we get off the floor now?" "I guess so," Jack relents, sitting up. "But you promise not to leave." "No, I won't leave. That's why I'm here. I need you." "I'm too old for you, you know," Jack reminds her. "I'm not a young stud anymore. Silla, I'm forty-three years old." Silla stands in front of Jack and reaches behind her, lowering the zipper at the back of her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. She stands naked in front of him, just out of arms reach and asks, "Jack, will you make love to me, please?" Not waiting for his answer, she turns and walks into his bedroom where she stands beside the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, trembling at what she knows she is about to do. "Silla?" Jack calls her from the doorway. She lowers her arms, lifts her chin and turns to look at him, unashamed of being naked in front of this man who has seen her this way before. "My god, you are beautiful," he whispers as he walks toward her, stopping barely a foot away. He rests his hands on her shoulders and runs his hands down her arms, taking her hands to place them on his chest. He puts his arms around her and pulls her to rest against him, knowing she can feel his throbbing erection. He needs to hold her, partly just to touch her, but additionally so she cannot see the expression on his face. He wants this woman. He wants her badly, with an intensity he doubts he has ever had for a woman before. But that does not mean he can have her. She is twenty-two years old and he is eleven years older than she is. He does not know if he can take what she offers and then let her go. "Now tell me why you are here," he says, as he slides his hand down the back of her head, feeling her cheek resting against his chest, and continues down her back, rests his hands at her waist for a moment, and then brings his hands back up, holding her tight, but not as tight as before. He smiles at his own intensity earlier, when he held her so tightly she could barely breathe. "I came to see you, to thank you," she answers against him, her breath warming his skin beneath his thin summer shirt. "You are welcome. But that's not "why" you are here, is it?" Silla pushes against him, giving herself room as she begins to unbutton his shirt. "No, it isn't." He does not stop her hands, although he should. Her hands on him feel too good. When she has the final button opened she spreads his shirt, pushes it off his shoulders, and watches as neither of them do anything as the shirt falls to the floor. Silla runs her hands across his chest, brushing through the heavy mat of hair on his upper chest, stopping for a moment to run her finger around and around his flat male nipples. Before he can stop her, she places her mouth against one nipple, pushes his flesh on both sides to raise the nipple to a peak, sucking it, just as he did to her only moments before. She brushes her teeth across the top of his nipple and feels his stomach muscles contract against her. He cannot stop the low moan that escapes him, as she leaves one nipple wet and moves to the other, giving it a similar treatment. When she reaches for the waist of his jeans, he takes a step back. "Baby, I don't do "one night stands."" "I don't either," she tells him. "My suitcase is in the truck of my car." As if she is having a pleasant conversation, she adds, "In fact, I've never offered myself to a man like this. It's a heady experience." Looking up at him, she smiles, "Don't you want me, Jack?" "More than you can know," he answers, his voice vibrating with intensity. "But that doesn't mean I can have you." "Why not?" she asks taking a step back, spreading her arms away from her sides. "I'm here. I want you." Silla drops to her knees, finally gets the button opened on his jeans and pulls the zipper down. She lowers his jeans and boxer shorts, allowing his erection to spring from his pants. Jack looks down, watching his cock brush against her hair as she pushes his jeans all the way to his feet. Silla holds his clothes down as he steps out of each leg. As if in a daze he merely stands before her, for the first time allowing her to see him as he has seen her, bereft of clothing, nothing hidden, his desire for her on full display. Silla looks up, running her hands up his legs, slowly moves one hand to cup his balls, and the other to close around the middle of his cock. Unable to resist giving her the access she seeks, he moves one foot to the side, allowing her to push her hand between his thighs as she lifts his balls, allows them to fall, and then lifts them again. Jack watches the look of fascination on her face. It is an expression he is familiar with, utter concentration, a faint smile, with the tip of her tongue pushing between her lips. She looks up at his face, "I may need a little help, here. I've never done this before," she admits. He rests his hands on the back of her head, not applying pressure, just letting her know, what she is doing pleases him. She leans forward and slowly licks around the head of his cock as she gently closes and opens her hand around his balls. Gently, she sucks an inch of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head and brushes her tongue across the tip, collecting the small drop of precum. She removes her mouth and rubs her tongue against the roof of her mouth and then goes back for another lick, a grin spreading across her face. "Yum, I like that," she announces when she looks up at his face. "Oh lord," Jack groans. "You do not need any help, sweetheart. If you get any better, I won't last another ten seconds." She puts her mouth around the head of his cock and slowly sucks an inch into her mouth, swirls her tongue around the head and sucks another inch into her mouth. She rocks back and forth, and then takes another inch inside her mouth, rocks back and forth again, as the skin around his penis slides deliciously back and forth. She takes another inch into her wet, hot mouth and continues to rock back and forth. Since she walked in his front door, his erection has hardened, until it is almost painful. Touching her and tasting her has made it worse. He cannot stand much more of her attention. Her head bobs up and down, taking as much of him into her mouth as she can manage. She holds his balls, feeling them tighten and draw up against his body. Jack's head goes back, gritting his teeth he tries to slow his breathing, but nothing works. He feels the muscles along the insides of his thighs quivering and he takes a deep breath. "Baby, you need to stop. I'm going to cum." Instead of letting him go, she increases the speed and nods. "It's going to shoot into your mouth," he warns her. He sees her head nodding as the first spurt hits the back of her throat. He releases the groan he was holding, and watches as she swallows, never ceasing her movements as additional spurts land in her mouth, followed by her swallowing every ounce. She sucks him and continues to take everything he gives. Then she slows and allows his softening cock to rest inside her hot mouth. Groaning, "Oh my god," his jelly-like legs barely able to support him, he pulls her up and takes her with him as he falls to the bed. Before she lands on top of him, he is kissing her, sucking her tongue into his mouth, tasting the last of his cum inside her mouth. He puts his hands under her arms and lifts her, holding her above him, lowering one of her breasts to his mouth, and then moving her over to hold the other breast above his mouth, barely lifting his head to suck on the nipple, feeling it pebble against his tongue. Her head hangs down, her eyes glued to his, as he tastes her. Slowly, he lowers her upper body, to buy his face between her breasts, breathing in the fragrance of her. Jack finally allows her to slide lower, her head resting on his shoulder. "Oh my, you are a luscious woman. Why did you do that?" His hand comes up to brush her hair out of her eyes as his hand continues down her back. He feels her shaking her head. He knows something is bothering her. She has been distracted, or not fully engaged in their conversations, ever since she arrived. Sitting up and pushing her up to sit beside him. Jack places the pillows against the head of the bed, and then scoots back to lean against the head board. He pulls her into his arms, letting her rest her head against him. "Okay, now, talk to me," he instructs. The first few days after the storm, his bedroom was the coolest room in his unit, because there are windows on two walls, which allowed some air flow. Although they were wearing clothes, and he was not holding her, this is how they sat and talked in the late afternoon. There wasn't much else to do. Unaware she is doing so, her hands move across him as she talks. Repeatedly threading her fingers through the hair at the top of his chest, and then lifting her fingers, Silla talks about the first few days she was back in the apartment with her sister. Her hand slowly slides across the top of his shoulder and down his nearly bare upper arm, as she describes the reaction of her co-workers to the bruises on her face and the abrasions on her wrists and ankles. It took several days for the marks to fade, but she had to tough it out. She rubs her hand up and down his lower arm, feeling the course hair as she talks about the police report she filed, although she could give very little information. She uses her finger to trace across each of his fingers as she tells about one of her co-workers taking her to dinner about two weeks after she was back at work. She lifts Jack's hand, kisses his palm and puts the hand on her shoulder as she tries to tell him about the man's advances when they left the restaurant. She shudders as she tells him the man backed her against the side of his car, instead of opening the door for her. He was grinding his hips against her and trying to kiss her as he told her he wanted to take her home with him and tie her up. He wanted to repeat what was done to her, suggesting that doing it again would remove her fears. Jack strokes his hand up and down her back, calming her as she struggles through her description of her escape from the man, returning to the restaurant, and asking the cashier to call a taxi to take her home. Continuing to thread her fingers through the hair at the top of Jack's chest she describes another instance of a man opening a door for her and her fear of getting too near him, afraid he would also attack her. "So, you thought you could come out here and see me, huh? If you aren't afraid of me, you don't have to be afraid of other men?" Jack doesn't particularly like what he asks her, but he wants to know why she is here. Surprising him, Silla swings her leg over and sits astride his lap, puts her hands on his face and kisses him hard. "No, no, no. It's not like that Jack. I can handle social situations now. But I don't want a man to touch me, unless I know he cares. I don't want to fuck. I want a man to make love to me. I sat in a bar one night and left, after the fourth offer. They were meaningless, cruisers, shallow. I want something more." Putting her arms around him, she buries her face into his neck and kisses him, licks the salty taste of him, rubs against him, driving him crazy. He wants her. He knows it, and so does she. He has never hidden his desire for her, he just never demonstrated it. But he is not going to give in so easily either. He told her, he does not participate in "one night stands." He never has, not even as a football player with a string of women in the hall anytime the team spent a night in a hotel. He left those women to his fellow players. "I'm not experienced, I know that," she admits. "But I'm not going to gain experience by going from one man to another. I can't. I may not have been a virgin when I was date raped, but I wasn't far from it." Silla takes a deep breath and lays her head on his chest. "I just want a man to make love to me. I want to make love, Jack. I can't say it any plainer. Show me, please." Putting his hands around her upper arms, he pushes her back to sit upright. "Kiss me, Silla. Don't think about it, don't say anything, just kiss me." Silla leans forward, touching her lips to his and melts into him as he gathers her against him. When he pushes his tongue against her lips, she opens her mouth to his exploration. He slides his tongue across hers, tasting her, feeling her relax against him. Her breasts press against him. His erection jerks against her hip as he feels her heat and wetness grow. His wet mouth goes across her jaw, seeking the soft places that arouse her. She lifts her chin, giving his access to every inch. His hands find the fullness of her breasts, gently flexing his hands, thrilling to the softness of her. His mouth stops below her ear, his tongue going in a circle, feeling her flesh pebble under his hands. He moves his mouth up, outlining the curl of her ear, sending additional chills across her flesh. His breath is soft against her, while she whispers his name and shivers from the intense sensations his mouth sends throughout her body. "Jack. Jack. Show me, Jack," she begs. Moments later, he is back at her mouth, sucking her luscious lower lip into his mouth, flicking his tongue up and down, moving her lip, touching the softness inside her mouth, sliding his tongue across the sharp edge of her teeth. "Touch me, Silla. Put your hands on me. Tell me you want me." Holding her to him with one arm across her back, he finds her nipple with his fingers. He rubs his fingers back and forth across the small nub as a shudder goes across her shoulders and she moans inside his mouth. As Silla arches her back, Jack lowers his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, he suckles, pulling more and more of her breast into his mouth. When he moves to the other breast he is lowering her to the bed. Jack sits up and looks at Silla. She trembles and tells him, "Oh God, Jack. Oh, don't stop. I love your mouth." He moves his hand to brush through the soft hair across her lower belly, above her pussy. The growth is not yet long, but is full, barely covering her. He cups his hand in the vee between her legs, feeling her heat. He turns his head to look at her, "I want to look at you. I want to touch you. Will you show yourself to me?" Silla nods her head and watches his eyes as she slowly spreads her legs, knowing her pussy is being exposed, seeing the lust in his dark eyes. Her thighs separate as she moves her legs up, bending them at the knee until her knees are fully bent and then lets them fall to the side, her pussy lips slowly pulling open. He moves between her legs and places his hands flat on her knees. He slides his hands slowly down the inside of her legs, stopping on each side her pussy. He bends forward and rests his cheek against her heat, breathing in the sharp scent of her. He had his mouth on her earlier, but it was a frenzy he could not contain. Now, he wants to enjoy her. Her sex is small and delicate like a miniature pink rose, the petals slowly opening. He pushes his face into her soft fuzz, rubbing his nose into her moist flesh. Her smell is intoxicating, a sharp tingle of something spicy, with a hint of musk. As he inhales her scent, he feels his erection jump, his arousal growing, knowing he will never tire of her. He may not be able to tell her at this moment, but he is never going to allow her to leave him. He has waited a very long time to find someone as special as she is to him. He softly licks the edges of her pussy in a circular motion around the lips, opens his mouth and surrounds her, sucking the lips into his mouth. He brushes his tongue slowly up and down the crease between her two outer lips, but not pushing between them. He hears her moan, as she softly repeats his name. He looks up at her face, listening to her breathing as he concentrates his attention on her soft, plush lips. Moving from one to the other, sucking each one into his mouth, rubbing up and down, he feels the soft hair abrading his tongue. Her legs are spread wide when he uses his thumbs to part her outer lips, showing the softer inner lips, darkening as they fill with blood from her own arousal. He dips his tongue into the depth of her, tasting her juices, savoring the taste of her and going back for more, and then more, and still more. As she begins to pant, he brushes across her clit and then slows as he goes back to the outer lips, beginning the circular motion around the outside of her pussy, easing her down from the fever of an approaching orgasm. Over and over, he allows her to approach an orgasm and then eases her down, each time, savoring the taste of the moisture she releases. It is ambrosia, making his own arousal harder and harder, knowing he can give her such pleasure. She is moaning, a continued deep moan, showing she is no longer thinking or wondering what will happen next. She is moving her hips, mindless in her rhythm, reacting to the pleasure he is giving her. She arches her back as he holds her open to his mouth and tongue. Knowing he cannot keep her from an explosion, for the last time he begins to stroke up and down her clit, pulling the engorged bud into his mouth as he flicks his tongue across it, from side to side and up and down. Continuing the stimulation he puts a finger inside her. As her moaning increases he presses and rubs back and forth across her "G" spot, feeling her muscles begin to contract. It is an earth-shattering explosion deep inside her. She screams her pleasure. Her arms grasp at the air above her, seeking something to hold on to. She raises and lowers her hips rapidly, moving with her inner muscle contractions. Her feet thump against the bed, rocking his body from side to side. He relishes the moment of giving her so much pleasure. He caresses her clit gently with the tip of his tongue extending her orgasm, repeating it again and again, each successive orgasm causing her to move and thrash about, raise her hips and call his name. As she comes down from her heights, she calms down, becoming quiet and almost motionless, a deep tremble going through her body. And then she is reaching for him, pleading, begging, and whimpering. Moving slowly he brushes his cock through her wetness and is pushing into her, pushing deeper and deeper, her wetness easing his entry, as her muscles contract, squeezing him. She lifts her hips, begging him to go deeper, deeper, harder, and harder. He fears she cannot take his size, but she continues to demand more. He braces himself above her, straining to satisfy her demands. He pulls back all but the head of his cock sliding out of her, and then he pushes back into her. She tilts her pelvis giving his access to her depth. He pounds into her, straining to hold himself, wanting to show her the beauty of their union. He lifts her knees pushing them against her shoulders, going deep, hitting her womb. The only sounds in the room are his balls slapping against her, the squish of her moisture, and his labored breathing. Silla's Storm She is soon climbing the mountain again as he moves against her. She meets each of his thrusts, slamming into him, an "oomph" escaping each time her pubic bone meets his. He watches a blush begin at her breasts turning her neck and cheeks pink as she climbs higher and higher. He grinds his hips against her until the muscle contractions begin again and she is falling to the other side of the mountain, this time taking him with her. His explosion is tremendous, hard, with a rhythmical throbbing, as this small woman takes more out of him than he could have ever imagined. Panting, he lowers himself, kisses her belly, and falls to the side, pulling her into his arms, as his hand goes up and down her back, soothing her. Her mini-orgasmic after shocks shake her. She moves her hand across him as if she is soothing him. He turns his head to kiss her forehead. She raises her face for a real kiss, and then snuggles against him as her breathing calms. When he can finally breathe, Jack says, "Silla, I'm not going to let you leave me this time." "I'm going to stay, Jack."