The Blizzard feat Sasha Banks as Mercy

No thought Mercy as her Ford Explorer stopped in the middle of the snowy road, this cannot be happening.

She tried several times in vain to turn her engine over, but the engine was completely and utterly dead. She swore in frustration

It was just past midnight and Mercy was on her way home from her best friend, Trinity's house. And it just her luck that she'd gotten caught in the mother of all snow storms. A storm that the meteorologists had been talking about for the past couple of weeks that would consist of howling brumal winds raging at 40 miles per hour and 3 to 4 feet of snow. Fuck my life thought Mercy.

She gathered up her purse and took out her Smartphone to call for help. Just great she thought as her phone had no reception.

She stepped out of the car and instantly regretted it; Strong gusts of wind blew tiny blades of ice in her face, nicking her mocha skin and leaving her magenta colored hair flying all around her. Her goose down jacket, however warm and snug, wasn't sufficient enough to combat the gelid air and she shivered uncontrollably as she started walking up the road.

She could barely see where she was going as her slight frame struggled against the mighty winds. Her legs were tired and her Uggs were getting soaked. She wondered how long it would be before she'd die of hypothermia.

She'd been walking for almost half an hour when a bright light cut through the negritude of the piney forest. Mercy searched for the source of light, which were headlights that belonged to a black Chevy Suburban. The window rolled down as it pulled up next to her.

The driver was a man in his late 40s or early 50s with rugged features and an auburn goatee streaked with specks of gray. His eyes were like clear pale emeralds and seemed to twinkle in the night.

"Need a lift?" he asked Mercy. He had rich baritone voice with a hint of Texas in it.

Mercy eyed him warily. Although the Suburban looked warmed and inviting, he was a stranger, and her mother had warned her about getting in strangers' cars. How did she know he wasn't some psychotic serial killer?

"Listen, Miss," said the man, "it's insanity for you to be walking in a snow storm like this. Look at you, you're shakin' like a dog shitting razor blades, you'll freeze the death out here, why don't you get in the car? I won't hurt you."

He had her at "You'll freeze to death". Mercy opened the door of the Suburban and climbed inside, secretly relieved.

As she got inside, she got a better look at him. The guy was massive, about 6 foot 8 or 9, and even under the leather jacket that he wore, she could tell that he had a strong build.

"Just so you know," she said to the man, "I have Mace in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it."

The man chuckled, a deep attractive sound issuing from his belly.

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am," he drawled, "I don't blame you for being a little vigilant. But I think you should know that I meant it when I said I wouldn't hurt you."

He looked at Mercy and smiled, his smile as warm as his eyes. This seemed to ease some of Mercy's apprehension.

"Here's the deal," he said, "I have a cabin that I've rented out just up this road up here. You're welcome to stay until the storm is over and I could take you home from there. What do you say?"

What other choice do I have? thought Mercy.

"Sure," she said, "but before I decide I want to head to your cabin, can you tell me your name at least?"

"Of course, hon," said the man. "I'm Mark. What's yours?"

"Mercedes, but I prefer to be called Mercy."

"Well Mercy, Mercy me," said Mark, grinning a bit. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"It's ok," said Mercy, grinning herself, "you get used to it after a while."

Mark pulled up next to a large log cabin that lied before a nearly frozen river. It was obscured by a thicket of hemlock trees.

"Here we are, Mercy," he said, opening the door for her to get out. She muttered her thanks as he helped her down. She followed him inside the cabin, the sounds of snow crunching underneath their boots.

The uncrowded cabin was cold, but welcoming with floor to ceiling windows that gave a nice view of the lake, which Mercy was sure was more breath taking during warmer climates. From the ceiling hung a chandelier made of deer antlers. A couple of plush chairs were set in front of a stone marble fireplace, whose mantle was adorn with Native American artifacts like steer skulls and flutes. The walls were decorated with Navajo tapestries with an acoustic guitar and drums leaned against it.

"Nice place," said Mercy.

"Thanks," said Mark, taking off his coat. "I've been happy here,"

Mercy took her coat off as well. The cold clung to her like oatmeal stuck to wall. It was so cold in the cabin, she could see her breath.

Seeing this, Mark gathered up some blankets and wrapped them neatly around Mercy. Then he gathered up some logs to put in the fireplace, striking up a match. Waves of warm relief filled the cabin the way a nice hot meal filled you up on a night such as this.

Mark sat in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands hands together. He looked over at Mercy, who was still standing by the door, wrapped in blankets.

"Why don't you come and sit down hon?" he said, indicating the chair next to him, "I don't bite."

Mercy sat down, watching the flames dance merrily on the logs. Slowly, but surely she began to warm up.

"So what's your story?" asked Mark, "what were you doing walking in the woods during a blizzard?"

"I was on my way from a friend's house," said Mercy, still looking at the flames, "my car broke down in the middle of the road, and I was trying to find shelter or at least a ranger's station."

"I guess that Ford Explorer was yours," said Mark, "it's a good thing I came along then, isn't it? Or you would have been looking like Smurfette."

Mercy laughed.

"Do you have a story?" she asked.

"Me? Nah." said Mark, turning back to the fire.

"C'mon," said Mercy, "of course you do. Everyone has a story."

"Not me," said Mark, flatly.

"If I'm going to be staying in this cabin with you until the storm ends, I have to know something about you," said Mercy, "let's kill time."

"Alright, if you insist," said Mark, "what do you want to know?"

"Well, this cabin for starters," said Mercy, "do you live here?"

"From time to time," said Mark, "I live in the city mostly. I come here when I need to clear my mind from the hustle and bustle that comes with the city. I feel if I stay in the city too long, I began to feel congested."

"Are you married?" asked Mercy.

"Nah, divorced," said Mark. "I was never really husband material."

"Don't you ever get lonely in here?" asked Mercy.

"Most of the time, I don't," said Mark, "but it'd be nice if someone was up here with me, appreciating simple things everyone takes for granted. Slow down with me."

"Well," said Mercy walking over to Mark and sitting on his lap, "I could fill that role for you."

She leaned closer to him and kissed him. Caught by surprise, but quickly recovering, Mark captured her mouth with a hungry urgency that she felt, his tongue slithering in between her parted lips. She didn't know why she was doing it, kissing this strange man, getting ready to bed him, but it felt so right.

Mercy removed the blankets so that her arms would have free access to feel him, running her hands under his thermal long sleeve, feeling the hard slab of his belly, the rippling muscles of his hair roughened chest. His large hands snaked around her small waist and squeezed her round, firm ass as he kissed and sucked the nape of her neck and collar bone. Her Dolce and Gabbana perfume was stirring the lustful beast inside him.

Mark took his thermal off, showing off chiseled ivory skin covered in intricate tattoos. He then removed Mercy's t-shirt. She had no bra on and her voluptous, brazenly exposed breasts popped out at him, her nipples swollen with excitement.

"You are over 18, aren't you?" he asked Mercy, his green eyes lit with lust.

"Very much, so," she replied.

She moaned a little as Mark rained light kisses on her breast, ocassionally grazing her nipples with his hot tongue. He then pulled her pants past her waist and rubbed his hand up her inner thighs. The front of her panties were soaked with her excitement, causing Mark to growl with pleasure, as he slid a long thick finger into that moist sensitive spot that belonged to her only. She cried out, overcome with shuddering, clenching spasms as Mark slid his finger back and forth inside her. She was swimming in a river of bliss, while his finger taunted her little bud with over thousands of sensitive nerves.

He withdrew his fingers, going to undo the snap of his jeans. Mercy's eyes widened in amazement as his swollen manhood seemed to pop out of the tight confines of his jeans.

"Is that going to fit?" she asked, half joking.

Mark laughed, stroking this thick shaft.

"We're about to find out, aren't we?" he said, his voice deeper with arousal.

He discarded his pants, and she her panties. He lifted her up in the air, causing her to cry out in surprise and pinned her against the wall. Grabbing her thighs, he spread them wide and glided upward, deep inside her. Mercy screamed, at first in agony, then pleasure, as he pumped away, having no choice but to take the dick. Ripples of ecstasy rippled through her as Mark claimed her mouth in another kiss, groaning and grunting while he did it.

"Marrrkkkkkkkkk!" was all Mercy could manage to say. Mark quickened the tempo, the sound of flesh pounding against flesh resonating through the cabin.

"Whose is it?" asked Mark through gritted teeth.

"Yours, Daddy," said Mercy faintly.

"Damn straight," said Mark, "you fine mother fucker you!"

He burrowed his shaft further inside her. Mercy came again, screaming, jerking uncontrollably. She dug her nails into his back, leaving smell bloody indents as he drilled her like a bad tooth.

Mark could feel it himself, building up like a brewing storm. He couldn't control the stentorian cries issuing from his throat as he spilled his seed into her, lighting bolts of fulfillment overwhelming him. He rested his head on her, breathing hard, Mercy's own breaths coming out in deep shuddering whimpers.

They lay naked by the fireplace for a long time in silence the crackling of the flames and the raging winds outside being the only noise. Mercy cuddled close to Mark, loving the feel of his hard body. He stroked her strangely colored hair while he watched the flickering flames.

"What now?" asked Mercy.

"What do you mean, hon?" asked Mark.

"Do I have to leave in the morning?" asked Mercy.

Mark contemplated it for a second.

"Nah, darlin, you can stay as long as you want. You sure as hell earned it."