Delilah's Story Ch. 01

Ch. 1: The Meeting

Other women often ask what he was like. They want to know whether he was the bloodthirsty monster portrayed in the storybooks. I tell them that he wouldn't harm a fly – unless, of course, it was a Philistine fly. The man I knew was gentle: he never cursed or lied, never stole or cheated. Nor did he ever hurt me – except when I wanted him to. I suppose that's what those women really want to know, isn't it? Was he a passionate lover? Well, I'll come to that in my own good time.

When I met him, Samson was already a legend amongst the Israelites. He had been married to that Philistine bitch from Timnah who had bedded and betrayed him with his best friend. Not that it did her any good. After Sam had burned down the Philistine cornfields and the olive orchards, they turned on her and her good-for-nothing father and burned them both alive. Afterwards Sam had to flee the valley and lived the life of an outlaw, swooping to defeat his enemies and visiting upon them such violence that they thought he was a demon. But he wasn't – he was a quiet man who loved his people.

He found me in a bar in Sorek. I had been working there for my uncle, Ezra, since fleeing my husband. Sam used to come in almost every day. He rarely drank – he'd just listen to the others, and watch me. He was an impressive figure: as tall as a door and big muscled. Handsome too, with a smooth, clean-shaven face. But what I noticed first were his eyes, and his hair, of course. He had the kindest, softest eyes I have ever seen. I could feel them on me as I walked from table to table serving drinks. He was undressing me with them as I hoped he would one day do with his hands. I would glance over at him as I set down a glass of wine or beer and catch his long, curious gaze, appraising me – and stripping me too. I would smile back at him but he would simply hold me in his stare until I walked away.

When, at last, he spoke to me his voice was surprisingly quiet. I had to lean forwards to catch his words. Perhaps he wanted me to. I could smell the blood and sweat on him. I looked into his eyes, close up, and saw only death and sex.

'When do you finish?' he asked.

'About eleven,' I answered. 'Why?'

'You shouldn't walk the streets alone. There are thieves and vagabonds about. It's not safe for a lady.'

I laughed. It had been a long time since I'd been called a lady.

'Will you protect me, my lord?'

'Do you want me to, Delilah?' I liked the sound of my name on his full, red lips.

'Let me think about it,' I said. I set down his drink and walked back to the bar, wiggling my bottom for his pleasure. I wasn't playing hard to get. In fact, I wasn't playing at all. I wanted him more than any man who had ever shared my bed. But his wildness, barely suppressed beneath the surface of civility, scared me. There seemed to be no limit to him. It was as if, once unleashed, his passions would be beyond any control, his or mine. More worryingly, I harboured the same fears about my own emotions. It had been many months since I had felt a man inside me and I wanted him with a fervour that brought a sweat to my lips.

The minutes ticked by and, with each, my uncertainty grew. Just after eleven, Ezra told me that I could go.

'Are you coming, Delilah?' Samson asked, holding out his hand.

'Yes,' I said, 'I'm coming.' I guess that I had always known I would.

We walked, unspeaking, down the main street. I could feel the heat from his body as we brushed against each other, weaving past the drunken revellers returning to their nagging wives. Each touch – no more than the graze of his shirt sleeve against my cloak – burned through my clothes into my heart. Desire was coursing through me like a fever, and I sensed it in him too.

Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me down a narrow alleyway. In the shadowed darkness, we stumbled against an abandoned handcart and almost fell. He took my arms and pinned me against the wall of an old house. His strength was immense: it was as if I was a skiff being buffeted by a hurricane. I let out a little moan as my back and legs banged against the rockwork. His hands swept my hair from my face. He took my pony tail in his fist and pulled it back so that my face turned up to his. His mouth covered mine in a violent kiss. I bit his lip and tasted his blood on my teeth. Now his hands were on my neck, pulling my cloak from my shoulders. Any resistance I had intended melted like snow. I drew his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues met, parted and met again. He broke off our kiss and unbuttoned my cloak, dragging it off my shoulders. It fell, abandoned, to the ground. His hands found the edges of my shift and ripped it apart. Buttons flew as the fabric yielded to his grip. Now my breasts were in his hands; the nipples hardened against his grasping palms. I arched against him and felt the length of his cock press against my stomach. With nimble fingers I released it from his pants. He felt hard and hot in my hand. And as big as a bull.

I wanted him in my mouth, filling my mouth. I wanted to be on my knees before him, surrendering myself to his need – because it was my need too. But his bulk trapped me against the wall. His hands were now yanking at my skirt, pulling it up so that he could reach between my legs.

I bit his chest through his smock. He winced and groaned as my teeth sank into his skin. He pulled my face away from him and held my chin in his paw. With the other hand he drew up my skirt. I was helping him now frantically. We were gulping breath like drowning sailors.

His fingers slid between my thighs, up to my slit. I held up my skirt for him as he licked his fingers. He didn't need to; I was wet enough for both of us. His finger, as thick as a fisherman's rod, slipped into me.

'Mmmm .....' A long moan spilled from my lips. In and out of me his finger plunged. His thumb rubbed against my little bud, making it as hard and fat as a thimble. My legs were buckling as the waves of pleasure swam through my veins. He held my buttocks and worked his quivering cock into me. He felt so enormous that I feared for myself.

He bent his knees and pushed me up on to my tiptoes. Then he lifted up my thighs to his hips, first one then the other, and I clambered up his body, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I felt as light as a feather in his arms. He thrust into me with a force that sucked the breath from my body.

'Ooooohhhhh.....' With each heave he seemed to reach new depths within me. He was ramming into me so hard that I began to think that he might damage me somehow, but I didn't - I was on fire for him. As he pounded me, my back rubbed against the wall so hard that I could feel it bruising.

'Aaaahhh ..... Aaaaahhhh .... Aaaahhh .....'

He moved away from the wall, still fucking me relentlessly as he walked over to the handcart. I clung on as he filled me with himself. He laid me down so that I was lying flat out, my legs dangling over the edge. He held me by the hips and pulled me on to him as he fucked me harder and faster. I gripped his buttocks as I felt my muscles tightening, my pulse thumping. I could sense my coming mercifully beckoning me, summoning me to it. Not long now, not long.

'Yessss .... Yeeeessss ..... Yyyyyeeeeessssss!!!'

A window above opened. 'What's the racket?' a voice called. 'Haven't you homes to go to?' Then he seemed to realise who the giant was beneath his window and hurriedly closed it.

Samson ignored the intruder and rode me through my climax. With each new thrust I felt the rush of after waves ripple through me. Then his rhythm quicken still more. I opened my eyes and watched him grimace with the ecstatic agony of his own coming. He exploded within me. Gasping for breath, he gradually slowed and withdrew from me. I groaned at the void left within me by his parting cock.

We both remained still for moments, still unspeaking. He picked up my cloak and laid it across me on the handcart.

'Are you alright?' he said. It was the first proper word that either of us had uttered since leaving the bar.

'Yes,' I wiped myself with the edge of my dress. I put it to my lips and sucked his cum from it. 'I'm more than alright.'

He picked me up and carried me home, swaddled in his arms as if I were a child. At my door he gently set me down.

'Will you come inside?' I asked as shyly as a maiden to her first teenage love.

'Not tonight,' he said and kissed me, on the cheek. I could smell myself on his skin. I held him for a moment but he broke free of my embrace and walked away. I stood on the doorstep watching him disappear into the night. At the corner he turned around and waved. His eyes were smiling.