Pam Has a Hidden Need

I asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

She looked down at the gray driveway and then she nervously stammered, "My dad—got really mad at me—last night..."

My willpower cracked a little and I stepped towards her. I gently set my hand on her arm and said, "Oh Pam, I'm so sorry." Even in the seriousness of the moment, the feel of her warm skin sent a tingle down my spine.

With her eyes downcast, she stammered emotionally, "He—he—doesn't understand me—like you do..."

I replied, "I'm here if you need me."

There was a strong urge to put my arms around her and give her a strong comforting hug, but I just felt like maybe she would read it the wrong way.

Pam looked up at me, and I could see she was starting to cry. She sort of whimpered, "He was—so mad at me—it was—really—really bad."

Then she awkwardly got up onto the seat of her bike and slowly started peddling down the driveway. I watched as she turned and headed towards her home. Suddenly, she was gone.

I felt terrible for her. It was awful to see someone I cared about acting so helpless, and there was nothing I could do.

I went into the house and tried to go through the routine of eating dinner, but I was just too upset and emotional. Poor Pam was terribly shaken by something, and I so desperately wanted to help her.

She had hinted more than once that she and her father didn't get along, and that he didn't understand her. This seemed so sad because she was such a sweet, lovable girl. To imagine that someone as wonderful as her couldn't receive the love she desperately needed from her own father broke my heart.

It was a warm, muggy night, and there was nothing I could do to shake the feeling of my own helplessness.

Even though it wasn't late yet, I eventually got into my sleeping clothes, just an old pair of pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, and started getting ready for bed.

It was difficult just trying to brush my teeth, I was so worried about Pam. It was hard for me to understand that this shy little girl could be so cut off from her father, someone who should be there to support and protect her. I felt a need to be even more in her life, to help her more, to be more kind and more understanding. She needed love, and it was so sad for me to imagine her in any kind of pain.

I rinsed the toothpaste from my mouth and took a drink of water, then I looked at myself in the mirror. I stared blankly, and I could so clearly see the worry in my eyes. Poor Pam's plight was weighing heavily on me and I was lost in a deep yearning to save her.

It was right then that I heard a soft tapping at my door.

I was a little bit startled, because it was unusual for anyone to stop by at this time of night. I walked to the living room and peeked through the window, and was totally surprised to see Pam standing there on the porch. She looked sad and lost.

I quickly opened the door and said, "Pam, it's nice to see you. Come in, please."

She didn't say anything, she just awkwardly made her way into my little home.

I asked, "Is everything alright?"

She mumbled, "Oh, I don't know."

"Can I get you anything? Some water? I have some lemonade."

She didn't say anything, she just sort of stood there in front of me. She was wearing a baggy hooded sweatshirt, nylon running shorts, and flip-flops. Her whole being was in a pose of utter despair. She seemed so despondent that I was worried she might collapse right there in front of me.

I led her to my couch and said, "Here sweetie, sit down. I'll be right back."

I helped her sit down, and then quickly went to the kitchen and poured her a big glass of lemonade. I wasn't sure how doing this might help, offering her something as mundane as lemonade, but I felt such a deep need to do something kind. When I stepped back into the living room, I was shocked at how tiny she looked in the middle of my great big couch.

I set the glass down on the coffee table and then sat next to her.

"Pam, I can tell something is wrong," I said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She replied in a timid little whisper, "Oh, I don't know. It's just—that—it's so hard—and I—I can't..." Then she trailed off into a frightened silence.

Suddenly she started crying. My self-control finally broke, and I reached over and hugged her tightly.

I spoke earnestly, "There now, it's okay..."

She put her arms around me, and suddenly she was clinging to me in this needy, frightened way. I just held her close and rubbed her back through her sweatshirt, feeling her shaking as she sobbed. I could feel an urgent depth of emotion in her body, as if her whole being was somehow unable to cope with some terrible stress.

It was so hard for me to feel her little body shaking against me, and at the same time to hear her crying, I didn't realize anything could affect me that deeply. I was shocked by my feeling of utter helplessness as I tried to console her by squeezing her tightly. My heart was breaking.

All I could do was whisper little encouragements like "Please don't worry..." and "I want to help..."

I didn't know if my words were helpful, but I kept trying, softly telling her things that felt so honest to me. I dearly wanted to kiss her, but it felt like that would have been taking advantage of her.

I just tried to be consoling by saying things like, "There now baby..." and, "Let it out, it all okay..."

It took a long time as I held her and whispered to her, but little by little her crying subsided.

I tried to let her know I truly cared by the way I was hugging her. I ran my hands up and down along her back. As I did, I could feel her bra through her sweatshirt. It was a strange sensation, it felt intensely intimate to feel something so feminine.

There came a point when I realized she was calming down, at least a little bit. Without knowing what else to do, I slowly eased away, and then handed her the big glass of lemonade from the coffee table. She took it and quickly gulped almost the whole thing down. It was if she had cried herself dry, and now she instinctively needed to satiate something inside her.

I sat and watched as she drank the whole glass. When she was done, she whispered a shaky thank-you, and I set the empty glass back on the coffee table.

I rubbed her back some more as she stared down at the floor. We were both quiet for a long time, and then she softly spoke: "My dad is still really angry at me."

I put my arm around her and said, "Oh sweetie, that's impossible. How could anyone be angry at you?"

She put her little arms around me and squeezed me when I said that. There was a sad neediness in the way she held me; her whole being was trembling with a terrible shame.

Then she nervously stammered, "My dad—he—he—read my dairy..."

"Pam, that's terrible. He had no right to do that."

She spoke in a sad whisper, "Oh Mr. McKinnon—I'm not—not..." and then she trailed away.

"What is it? You can tell me..."

"I don't know—it's—it's scary to say..."

I implored, "Please, I want to help."

There was a long time where neither of us spoke. I just held her tightly and I could feel that she was emotionally drained after such an intense bout of crying. She seemed so tiny against me, and I felt a deep need to somehow protect her.

She broke the silence by quietly stating, "I'm not—a virgin—anymore—and—and—my dad read about it."

Hearing that, and the hopelessness in her voice, I squeezed her with all the emotion I could.

I put my mouth near her ear and whispered, "Shhhh, baby, don't feel bad."

After a long, awkward silence, she began to speak. She was sort of whispering to herself, as if she was all alone, admitting something to herself, "It was a boy—from school—and I didn't really even like him. It was at a party—I knew what he wanted—I knew—we went to a room—it was dark—I just let him—I wanted to like it—but it was so sad feeling..."

I held her tightly as she softly spoke all of this, as if to no one.

"Later—at school—he was so mean to me—it was awful."

I felt a heartbreaking sadness, what should have been something beautiful for Pam had been dreadful. I kissed Pam's forehead and whispered, "No, no... Please, baby... don't feel bad... you can't feel bad about this..."

She murmured in a frightened way, "But... I—I'm—so—ashamed..."

I spoke calmly, "Oh Pam, please... I want you to know, you didn't do anything wrong."

She squeezed me tight as she stammered, "I just let him—do what he did—I really wanted to like it—but he wasn't nice to me..."

I told her, "Please don't feel bad... please, baby..."

"But—I feel—so terrible. Why is my dad so mad at me?"

"Your father is wrong, absolutely wrong. You are a perfectly wonderful young woman. I know that, I see it every day."

She whimpered in a shaky voice, "But—but I—I don't—understand—what I'm feeling..."

She was acting so sad; I felt such a burning need to do something to help ease her pain.

I leaned in and gently kissed her on her forehead again and whispered, "Oh Pam, don't worry, please. I'll help any way I can."

"Everything feels hopeless," she whispered.

It was devastating to hear her sound so upset; she was so perfect and lovely, and I wanted more than anything to save her.

"Pam, don't worry. I'll always be here for you."

She replied softly, "Oh Mr. McKinnon. Thank you for saying that. It—it helps me. It really does."

Knowing that such a sweet girl like Pam could feel this kind of anguish broke my heart.

Right then she looked up at me with this lost expression, a single tear slowly running down her cheek from behind her glasses.

I leaned in and gently kissed the tear, tasting the warm, salty wetness. Then I whispered, "Oh Pam, don't worry, this sadness will go away—I know it will."

She smiled faintly and said, "Thank you for being so good to me."

I was so worried about her; I could tell she was really scared. I was upset at her father for not being supportive of his only daughter. There was something terribly sad about how she wasn't getting any love from him. Just thinking about his behavior made me feel determined to help her.

I said, "Please, Pam, I'm here for you. Please know that."

She looked at me with such an expression of gratitude, and said, "That feels—so—good—you saying that."

I started to gently caress her shoulder, and I could feel her trembling. I looked at her beautiful face, and she seemed so angelic, so vulnerable. She was staring up at me with her huge, adorable brown eyes and little glasses, everything about her just seemed so helpless.

Right then, I was overwhelmed with needy hunger, deep inside me. I wanted to kiss her so badly. At that emotional moment, her pouting lips just looked so soft.

Neither of us said anything, we just looked at each other for a long time.

It felt so strange for me, I mean, the thought of actually kissing such a sweet young girl seemed absolutely impossible. She was just 18-years old, and I was the same age as her father, and there seemed to be to much confusion for her relating to him and his scorn.

Oh God, just thinking about kissing her felt so forbidden, but at the same time I was so profoundly drawn to her and the need to help her. I was so aware at how sad she seemed, and how she desperately needed some relief.

She stayed still as she looked up at me, and I could taste her salty tear on my tongue.

I was deeply conflicted about what I was feeling, but I couldn't help slowly sliding myself just a little bit closer to her on the couch. I moved until my knee was pressing tightly alongside hers. Oh dear God, it felt like electricity running through my entire body from just that gentle contact. It was more than a bit embarrassing for me; I wanted so badly to play the role of the perfect gentleman, but I was sitting there next to her, barefoot in my old pajama bottom and a faded t-shirt, all the while I was swallowed up in a feverish need to kiss her.

I spoke to her in an uneasy voice, "Pam, you know I would do anything to help you..."

She didn't say anything; she just looked at me and nodded meekly.

Oh God, right then I was completely focused on her adorable lips.

I tried to understand what she might be thinking, but I really didn't know. I reached up and gently moved a little bit of her hair from the side of her cheek, slowly setting it behind her ear.

We just stared at each other for a long time, and I was all shaky with feeling of uncertainty. Kissing someone so young would be completely inappropriate, but the irresistible temptation was just too powerful.

I cautiously moved a little bit closer, and I really expected her to protest, or to move away, but she didn't. She stayed perfectly still in a way that made me think she might truly let me kiss her. We were close enough that I thought for sure she must be able to hear the fearful pounding of my heart.

I was so nervous—being this close to such a young girl felt so intense. And she was acting so painfully shy; I was so worried that if I leaned towards her and tried to kiss her, it might scare her.

She timidly whispered, "I really... appreciate... how kind you've been to me."

Hearing that, I felt like I was surrendering to something I couldn't control. I cautiously leaned in and gently brushed my lips against hers.

I was so scared that she might move away from me, but she stayed perfectly still. Oh my God, her lips felt so wonderful! I was terribly aware that I was doing something I shouldn't, that sweet little Pam was much too young. After a moment, I shifted back just enough to look at her, and she was still staring at me with that same timid expression of helplessness.

I looked at her, and she didn't move. I was waiting for her to protest, to tell me to stop, to move away from me, but she stayed perfectly still, just looking at me with those big frightened eyes. Very slowly, I leaned in and kissed her again.

Pam didn't move at all, so it was only my lips that nuzzled gently against hers. I was moving so slowly, and I was being so tender, and the feeling was so honest.

The smooth soft shape of her lips tasted heavenly. I could feel a nervous trembling as I softly kissed her.

After a little bit, I cautiously let the tip of my tongue inch out and I warily licked the edge of her lower lip. I could feel her warm breath against my wet tongue. I carefully began to trace the outline of her delicate lips with the tip of my tongue. I was slow and deliberate, and I could feel all the beautiful details of her adorable lips.

At this beautiful moment, licking Pam's soft lips, everything felt glorious. It felt like the whole world had stopped and what was happening was momentous and absolutely pure.

Then I felt Pam as she turned her head to the side, just a tiny bit, making it easier to kiss her delicious lips. Then I felt her tongue—she was pushing it out, and I was suddenly touching it with mine. She was accepting me, she was returning my affection! I literally shivered when this happened, and Pam felt it.

Right at that moment I felt myself getting hard; it was like electricity was running through my body and I reflexively shifted the way I was sitting next to her on the couch.

I slowly traced a little circle around the tip of her tongue with mine; it was so affectionate that I thought my heart might explode with joy.

All I was wearing was my thin old pajamas, I didn't have any underwear and the warm surge of elation between my legs was overwhelming. I could feel that my cock was getting insanely hard. I was nervous Pam would notice the big shape, and that seeing it would scare her.

We stayed like this for a long time. Our lips weren't touching, it was only our wet tongues that were in contact. We were tenderly licking and caressing each other's tongues, and it unleashed such a beautiful feeling of love.

I didn't know what to do. I was as hard as I have ever been, and my erection was straining against my old pajamas. If Pam looked down, she would have seen me, the outline of my hard cock pointing up.

Pam stayed so still, and we were sitting so close. I was leaning towards her with my wet tongue against hers. Pam was sitting a little bit sideways with her legs still on the floor.

Oh my God, this was magical, I slowly traced loving little circles around the tip of her wet tongue with mine. With my hands on her hips, I could feel her whole body tremble. Then I wrapped my lips around the tip of her wet tongue and started to carefully suck it. This felt so delicious, feeling it inside my mouth.

After a little bit I got more deliberate, my motions started to feel needy, like the way a baby would suck her mother's nipple. When I did this, Pam softly whimpered with a sort of haunted desperateness.

Hearing her sound so aroused, I was suddenly filled with such a beautiful feeling of trust; I sensed she would let me do whatever I wanted. I sucked her tongue like this for a long time, and it felt magical in a way that seemed almost dreamlike.

I felt her hands tighten against my hips.

Part of me wanted Pam to see me, to look at the big shape of my erection under my pajamas. I stopped kissing and said, "Can you move a little bit?"

Then I reached down, slid off her flip-flops, and helped her move her feet up off the floor. She was so compliant and so willing to let me position her legs up on onto the couch. I moved in a little closer, between her legs on my knees. The way I had helped her, she was now sitting up against the big pillows at the end of the couch, facing me, with her feet on either side of my knees. Now we were directly facing each other.

I put my hands on her waist against her baggy sweatshirt, and I held her gently. I could feel her anxious breathing. Her hips felt narrow and girlish. I looked at her; we were sitting so close to each other.

Suddenly, I didn't know what to do.

Should I stop? I mean, she was just so vulnerable, and I was worried that maybe we were doing something terribly wrong. Was I taking advantage of someone who was still so young? Was she too frightened to protest my needy advances?

Then I felt Pam cautiously move her hands, and she gently placed them on my waist, against my t-shirt. She was holding me gently, and I instantly understood what she was doing. It was like she was feeling scared and she didn't know what else to do, so she was mimicking me, the way I had my hands on her hips.

In her own timid way, this was a nervous message of her approval.

All I could do was stare at her adorable face, and then I watched as she nervously bit her lower lip, just a little bit. She looked so adorable, like a little angel. She stayed frozen in that timid pose. Oh my God, she looked so cute.

As we stared at each other, I could feel myself anxiously clutching her hips. Then I moved my hands along her waist, and I eased both of my hands under the thick fabric of the sweatshirt at her hips. I felt her warm smooth skin above her shorts.

She moved her hands, touching my skin, doing what I had just done. She was telling me that she consented to what I was doing.

I slowly slid my hands up, above her hips and along the smooth skin alongside her ribs. Touching her silky skin like that felt so, so heavenly. Moving my hands up, I briefly felt her bra, and then I slid my hands back down.

As I did this, I felt her hands sort of gripping my own hips. It felt like she was clinging to me for a kind of emotional security.

I slid my hands up and felt her bra again. Then I gently asked, "Pam, is it okay, can you lift your arms up?"

She looked at me with this confused expression, and I tugged at her thick sweatshirt and said, "Sweetie, is it okay to take this off?"

Hearing me say that, she obediently lifted both arms above her head in a funny, childish pose, and I was struck by how adorable this made her look.