Lilith

WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual activity and rough sex. If that offends you, please move on and read something else There is something for everyone on Literotica.

Name: LILITH

Origin: Babylonian

Meaning: Belonging to the night

Lilith is of Babylonian origin meaning "belonging to the night". According to legend, Lilith was Adam's first wife. Caste out for her wickedness, Lilith turned into a demon.

Isaiah 34:14 "And the demons and monsters shall meet, and the hairy ones shall cry out one to another, there shall Lilith lay down, and find rest for herself."

The Story of L...

Sprinting through the driving rain as the wind swirled around them, the three men rushed toward the front entrance of the busy diner. They were dressed like lumberjacks, the preferred attire of the weekend warriors who flocked to the Sierra high country on weekends. They would come to hunt, fish, ski or just hang out in the fresh mountain air and wide-open spaces. The tall trees provided these city dwellers a welcome respite from the tall buildings and hectic pace of San Francisco and the surrounding bay area.

But these three men were not professionals escaping the hustle and bustle of urban life, nor was their choice of attire a fashion statement. The clothing was simply what they had found in the deserted summer cabins they had broken into the two previous days. They were escaping something else.

It was lunchtime and the diner was filled with men from the adjacent truck stop. Big rigs filled the parking lot in front of the bustling eatery. The busy gas station and diner were on the south side of Interstate 80, just outside Truckee in the infamous Donner Pass and was a favorite way station for big rig drivers.

The three men had chosen the diner precisely because it would be full of other rugged looking and similarly dressed men. Three more rough looking characters like themselves would go unnoticed among the throng of men in work clothes who grabbed a meal after filling up their rigs and before descending the high mountain pass into either Sacramento to the west or Reno to the east.

As they rushed inside out of the cold rain, they were hit by a blast of the warm humid air from inside the teaming diner. The diner's air was close, with too many people sharing too little air in too tight a space. The man in the lead noticed that the waitress was clearing a booth at the far end of the diner. The large corner booth along the windows provided visibility into both the front and side parking lots, the man quickly noted.

"Let's grab that booth," said the tall athletic looking man in the lead who had the build of a linebacker. "We can keep an eye on both doors, and not too many people will walk past us."

Neither of the other men responded, they just followed the tall man as he crossed the diner. The counter seating was on their left and the booths along the windows were on the right.

"Keep your heads down, and avoid making eye contact with anyone," the man said in a hushed tone, so that only the other two men could hear. He was counting on the fact that these men were too busy driving their rigs to pay much attention to the local news.

He was pleased as he looked around and saw no newspapers at the busy counter or at the tables. It was going to snow, and he rightly guessed that these men didn't have time to read a newspaper, a newspaper like those in the racks out front that were filled with their photos and stories about their daring escape.

Once seated, the three men allowed the waitress to pour each of them coffee and they ordered immediately without looking at the menu. Two of the men ordered the lumberjack breakfast advertised on the window poster next to the entrance. The sign above it proclaimed 'breakfast all day' in big bold red letters. The third man, the tall man who had been in the lead, ordered a steak and fries, something he had been craving for a very long time.

As they sat waiting for their orders, the three men continuously scanned the room and the parking lots. They couldn't afford to let their guard down. They needed to be vigilant.

"There's an emergency exit in the back corner next to the restrooms, just in case," said the leader, looking to his left as he sat with his back to the rest of the diner. He was the most recognizable of the three and was most in need of hiding his face. All three had shaved off their moustaches and beards and trimmed their hair, but you couldn't be too careful. One had even colored his red hair black, since it was usually the first thing people noticed about him.

The rain started to pour even harder, and it was coming in sideways, pelting the large windows and sounding like a phalanx of snare drums. The leader looked out through the window into the darkening parking lot toward the rows of pumps and the traveler center on the other side of the parking lot, and then to the freeway beyond.

The traffic was getting heavier, and the vehicles all had their lights on now. Everyone was trying to beat the storm before the snow clogged the pass. He and the other men had noticed the snowplows staged next to the freeway entrance as they came down the off-ramp.

Although it was midday, it looked like late dusk or early dawn outside. The tall amber colored streetlights of the parking lot had come on and were casting on orange glow on the wet asphalt. The parking lot looked like the kind of old sepia photograph you would see in a museum or a history book, the tall man thought to himself, losing his focus for just a moment.

He reminded himself that he needed to focus on the fact that the snow would be coming soon, and they needed to get off the mountain and down to Reno quickly, since they neither had snow chains or the money to pay for them.

They had been trying to outrun the storm all morning, as had the truckers in the diner. Most of them were wolfing down their meals and leaving cash on the tables without waiting for their change. They all made a dash for the door as soon as they were done.

The table right behind them was just being cleared. They had overheard the two men talking about the storm that would be on top of them within a couple of hours and bringing blizzard like conditions. One of the men had apparently been monitoring Caltrans' website on his smart phone.

The three fugitives sat in silence while they waited for their food, each engrossed in their own thoughts. One of the men finally broke the silence.

"You know Tom, lunch is going to cost us most of our cash," said the man, making it sound more like a question.

"Yeah, Hank is right, Tom," said the third man, echoing his concern. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is to get more money, Shorty," replied Tom evenly as he continued to scan the parking lot and the rest of the diner, which was mirrored in the window behind the other two men.

"Whatever!" replied Shorty flippantly, as Hank nodded his agreement.

"Eat up," said Tom as the waitress delivered their food. "We'll have to make tracks down the mountain before the snow hits."

All three men dug into their food voraciously while continuing to scan their surroundings.

Suddenly, Tom's attention was drawn to a motor home that had just driven past the front window and turned left into the nearly vacant side parking lot. The driver was awkwardly preparing to back into the last space in the back corner of the lot. The expensive Mercedes Benz motor home looked out of place at the decidedly working-class truck stop and diner, Tom thought to himself.

Tom watched the driver make several awkward attempts to back the large motor home into the space before he finally got it straight. He probably doesn't want to get his expensive ride scratched, Tom concluded.

Tom continued to watch as the three occupants pilled out of the Mercedes and ran through the pouring rain toward the diner. There were two men and a woman, with the woman in the lead. All three were well dressed. Their expensive clothing didn't come from Walmart, Tom observed.

As they ran past the window in front of him, sprinting for the entrance, Tom amended his original assessment of the trio. There were two men, one young and one older. And then there was the stunningly attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She was in her prime, thought Tom admiringly.

Tom couldn't decide which was her most striking feature, her long blonde hair which hung in a ponytail all the way down to her pert ass, or was it her long slender legs, or was it her ample breasts, that seemed too large for her lithe body.

Tom's intuition told him they were husband, wife and son. The younger man, who was perhaps 18 or 19, looked a little bit like both of them. The young man's frame and facial features resembled his father, although he was taller and more muscular. And he had the woman's flaxen blonde hair and his face bore the same scowling expression.

The older man's hair was dark brown but graying and receding. The younger man's full head of hair was cut long but neatly, not covering his ears. It looked like an expensive haircut, the kind only the wealthy could afford.

Tom's eyes were drawn to the woman again as she passed directly in front of him, and they made eye contact briefly. He smiled at her, and she glared back at him contemptuously. But regardless of her attitude, Tom still thought she was a MILF.

She was wearing a white turtleneck sweater that was too lightweight for the current weather conditions and as the rain drenched it, it clung tightly to her body and accentuated the contours of her impressive breasts, becoming almost translucent.

She immediately drew the attention of the other two men as she jogged in front of them toward the entrance as her breasts flopped wildly. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra as her erect pink nipples showed through the wet material. Her aroused nipples were the size of 45 caliber slugs, and just as hard.

"Fuck me! Would you look at that," exclaimed Shorty who was sitting closest to the window.

"Down boy! That looks way out of your league," laughed Hank, who then added, "Mine too, for that matter."

"Very astute," agreed Tom. "Turn around and look at her ride."

Both men turned and looked toward what Tom was nodding toward. "That Mercedes camper probably costs two or three hundred thousand. So yeah, she's a high maintenance bitch."

Hank and Shorty began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Tom.

"Turn around and look at the front door,' said Hank. "She's making the poor bastard stand in the rain and give her his coat before she come in."

"I guess she just figured out she was about to win the Truckee Wet T-Shirt Contest," said Tom drolly as he turned back around to face his companions.

"Oh, Jesus," exclaimed Shorty. "There is a God!"

"How's that?" asked Tom, semi-curiously, as he attacked his steak again."

"The table right behind us is the only one open," said Hank, picking up on what Shorty was getting at. "It looks like we're going to get a closer look at the MILF."

"Yeah, I think you're right about that," nodded Tom. "She's definitely fuckable."

"I'm not too sure about how much of that hubby is getting," laughed Hank. "He and junior follow her around like puppy dogs. It looks like she wears the pants in the family."

"Probably has them house broke too," added Shorty.

Tom gazed into the window behind his companions to see the reflected image of the trio as they approached the open table. Although stunningly attractive, the woman's constant scowl detracted from her beauty, Tom decided.

She looks like she needs to get laid, Tom thought to himself. He also surmised that hubby, who was at least ten years her senior and turning paunchy, wasn't up to the task.

Tom could see that she was giving her husband a tongue lashing as they approached the table. She was in his face and wagging a finger under his nose. The younger man held back, obviously not wanting to get caught up in the fray. The smirk on his face said he was enjoying it.

When they got to the table, the woman took the seat directly behind Tom for herself and pointed for her husband and son to sit across from her. Tom surmised that she probably didn't want Hank and Shorty ogling her any more than they already had. And she probably didn't want her husband sitting next to her either, Tom guessed.

"Why the hell did you have to choose this diner? In a fricking truck stop! Of all places!" seethed the woman in a low voice as she sat down. "My sweater is soaking wet, and my nipples show right through. I might as well be naked! What were you thinking? Are you consciously trying to humiliate me? Parading me through a diner full of crude lecherous lowlifes!"

"It's going to start snowing pretty soon," said the man defensively, his voice sounding both tired and defeated as he slid into the opposite side of the booth next to his son. "I figured we could get in and out of here quickly. Going down into town would have taken a lot more time."

"How much more time could that take?" sneered the woman contemptuously as she settled into her seat.

"The streets downtown are narrow," said the man, wearily. "It would have been a bitch finding parking for the motor home."

"Whatever!" scoffed the woman dismissively. "Let's eat and get out of here. We've still got to get through Reno and then down to Gardnerville to do our shopping. And we need to get up to our cabin in Markleeville before it starts snowing."

"We should be OK," said the beleaguered man, afraid to further antagonize his hectoring wife. "The snow isn't supposed to hit there until the middle of the night."

"Well, let's hope so," retorted the woman, her bad mood unrelenting. Now she turned her ire on the waitress as she shouted across the diner. "Can we get some service, PLEASE!"

Meanwhile, at the table behind her, Tom pulled his phone from his shirt pocket and texted the other two men. He had bought each of them a burner the previous evening.

"That bitch needs a cock in her mouth," Tom texted.

The other two men's phones vibrated, and they pulled them from their pockets, looking at the message and grinned as they nodded in agreement.

"I think the answer to your previous question just answered itself," texted Tom.

"????" texted Hank, not sure what Tom was getting at.

"$$$$," texted Tom back. "Mommy, daddy and junior look loaded. Between their credit and ATM cards we should make bank. Think of the blonde bitch as a bank account with benefits!"

The other two men grinned even wider, ear to ear.

Tom turned in his seat and smiled at the husband behind him.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," said Tom in a friendly conversational tone. "We're headed to Markleeville too. We're staying at a friend's cabin. Did you say it was going to snow tonight?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Best to get down there ASAP. Have you been there before?"

"No. First trip," replied Tom. "Are there grocery stores and restaurants and stuff there?"

"Oh, no. Not really," replied the man. "You'll want to stock up in Gardnerville before you head up the hill."

"Good to know, thanks!" said Tom. He still wanting to draw the man into further conversation and pump him for useful information, so he decided to keep the conversation going. "Have you had your cabin long? My friend's cabin has been in his family for a couple of generations."

"Oh, we've only had ours for about ten years or so," replied the man. "We lucked out. It had just come on the market when we started looking. It's on ten acres with a pond. What's really nice is that you can't see any of the neighbors. We have complete privacy. It is quiet and you can see the stars at night."

"George, quit boring the poor man," scolded the bitchy blonde. "Let him enjoy his lunch."

"He's not boring me at all," replied Tom cordially as he turned the other way to look at the shrewish blonde. "After all, I'm the one who started the conversation. It sounds like you and your family have a nice place. I'll bet your boy enjoys fishing and swimming in the pond. When the weather is warmer, of course. Oh, by the way, my name is Tom."

The woman did not turn to look at him while he spoke to her and ignored the greeting, which had obviously been directed at her.

Tom turned the other way again and reached over the back of the booth, extending his hand toward the husband and brushed his arm against the woman's shoulder as her husband immediately reached across the table and shook his hand. She recoiled against the touch of his arm and scooted her body to the right.

"This is my son Jeff, and as I think you heard, my name is George. And this is my wife, Lilith," said George politely as he introduced his family.

"Nice to meet you, Jeff," said Tom as he shook the young man's hand. "And nice to SEE you too, Lilith."

Lilith made no attempt to shake Tom's hand, nor did she turn to acknowledge his greeting. She picked up on his emphasis on the words 'see' and she knew what he was rudely getting at.

"Nice to meet you as well," replied Lilith perfunctory after a long pause, and without turning around. "Please don't let us hold you up. I'm sure you want to finish your meals and get on the road."

"Well, thanks for your concern, Lilith," replied Tom, his voice unctuously polite. "Enjoy your meal as well. Perhaps we'll run into each other down in Markleeville."

"I doubt it," said Lilith curtly. "There isn't much reason to go into town. There's not much there. We keep to ourselves. We have everything we need at the cabin."

"Jeff and I drive down into town occasionally to get our ice cream fix at the little restaurant," interjected George, embarrassed by his wife's rudeness. "Perhaps we'll run into you there."

"Yes, perhaps," replied Tom as he began to turn back around, while adding, "At any rate, have a safe trip."

Tom immediately typed a message into his phone. "That bitch needs to learn some manners! Maybe we can teach her some." His companions nodded their heads in agreement.

"Why were you so rude to the man," whispered George as he leaned over the table toward his wife.

"You didn't see how those three were leering at me when I ran past them," snapped Lilith in a hushed voice that was full of venom.

"Well...you were a sight," laughed Jeff. "Your new girls were going wild."

"Don't be disgusting young man!" Lilith scolded her son in hushed tones. "I'm your mother. You shouldn't talk to me like that. That's just not appropriate. Shame on you."

"Can we all just dial it down a couple of notches please," pleaded George, trying to make peace.

Lilith gave George a look that dared him to say another word. Her patience with him was finally at an end and it had been building for years. His stunt with his student had been the final straw. She had already contacted an attorney about a divorce.

"Waitress! How long before you take our order?" yelled Lilith. "We'd like to get out of here before it starts snowing. IF you don't mind!"

The other reason Lilith was still seething was because of the way the men had mentally undressed her and making no effort to conceal what they were doing. But what REALLY agitated her even more was the fact that she found herself doing the same thing with them.

As she walked to the table, she saw how muscular the two men facing her were. They had the hulking bodies of weightlifters with thick shoulders and bulging biceps. Especially the one with black hair, right next to the window. From what she saw of the man who faced her as she ran past the window, he looked more like an athlete, maybe a basketball player, given his height. He was three of four inches taller than the other men and they both looked to be a couple of inches taller than her six-foot husband.

She changed her assessment of the tallest man as she slipped into the booth directly behind him. She decided that he looked more like a cowboy. He had a weathered face and a chiseled jaw, like the Marlboro man. Yeah, he looked more like a cowboy, she had finally decided.