Content advisory: m/f sex and female masturbation.
The moment I saw the house I fell in love.
Standing in its impressive driveway, my hold tightened on my husband’s hand. My breath, suddenly shallow and hard to catch. My heart racing.
Looming over us like some giant tombstone, the house was both imposing and formidable. With a heavy double fronted door, and ancient tall, sash windows; it was probably a surveyor’s nightmare. Yet there was something about it – an attraction that was instantaneous. The house had wanted me.
My husband hadn’t understood it, but everyone knows that ninety percent of house buying is done by the woman, and after all, he was away all week with work. It was me who would be spending all my time here.
Within six weeks the house became mine.
How was I to know that it wasn’t the house that wanted me, but something inside the house..?
I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t alone. The moment I opened the front door, a breeze breathed through the building, lifting the net curtains in such a way it was as though they were whispering my name.
My husband had to leave that night, full of apologises about not being able to stay longer to help us settle in. But I wanted him to leave. I wanted to be alone in the house. It never occurred to me to be frightened.
In the evening, standing at the stove, cooking dinner, I felt the gentle pressure of a hand upon my shoulder, the certainty that someone was behind me. But each time I turned, the kitchen was empty.
Still, the presence in the house was obvious to me. I could sense it as clearly as if my husband was in the room. Part of me knew I should be scared, but somehow the entities presence its self was enough to ebb clam and lust in equal measure into my system.
Later, naked, in front of the bathroom mirror, I felt arms encircling my waist, my nipples puckering in response to the touch. Behind me, the shower thundered, its heat and steam fogging the mirror. The cold drift of fingers lightly feathered their way across my stomach and I parted my legs, feeling the heat rise up from between them. I wanted to feel its touch there. I wanted to know how it would feel to have the cool pressure push its way up between my thighs. But the moment I parted my thighs the sensation was gone again.
Stepping into the shower, my arousal hadn’t dissipated. As the water cascaded down my breasts, my nipples were still hard nubs, despite the heat. I used my own fingers to do the work of hands I had only sensed. I ran my hands across my stomach, reaching down, between my thighs. I dipped my fingers into my hot, wet folds, stroking. With my thumb, I ran lazy circles over my clit, heightening my arousal, until I ended up leant against the wall, my forehead resting against the cold of the shower tiles. I imagined my fingers were those of the entity I sensed around my, that it was not me bringing myself to orgasm, but the person I was certain was with me in the house. Gasping, my whole body shuddered as the power of my orgasm ripped though me, leaving my legs shaking and weak.
I hoped he had watched me, whoever was in my house, I hoped he had watched me make myself come and it had turned him on as much as it had me.
That night he came to me.
I woke to find the room cold, freezing even, in the warm summer night. My skin was a sensitive rash of goose bumps, and my nipples stood painfully hard and erect against the silk of my night slip. Unconsciously, I reached down to pull the covers back over me, my half-asleep mind not yet registering something was wrong. I pulled the duvet around my body, trying to escape the sudden chill of the night and I started to fall back to sleep.
Suddenly the cold alerted me again. I realised, that in my doze, the bed covers were no longer covering my body. Instead they hung off the end of the bed – as though flung there. Nervous butterflies worried my stomach, and I trembled in fear and anticipation. I lay frozen on the bed, unsure of what to do. A cool breeze blew from the end of my bed, its icy fingers creeping up the inside of my thighs, across my stomach, and up to my breasts. I shuddered at its caress, my teeth gently biting my bottom lip.
I knew the presence was here.
Cold fingers touched the side of my face and a small moan escaped me. A weight lowered itself onto the bed beside me, and I opened my eyes. The room was in total darkness. Black surrounded me like a living substance. If I were unable to breathe, I would have believed myself to be drowning in it. Fingers traced down my face and across my lips. I opened them slightly, tasting a sweet muskiness, and a wave of desire ran up from between my legs to spread its warm glow across my body. My hips pushed upwards, desperate for some contact, but if my lover had noticed, he just ignored my needs. The icy pathway continued down my neck and across to my nipple. The hard nub encircled by a bitter tongue. The moisture from his mouth reacted with the arctic room, inflaming me. Again I cried out, my body pinned to the mattress. I cried out in both fear and desire. I could feel his tongue working its way down my body, and I wanted him – God, how I wanted him. My back arched up into his touch; my pussy already wet and swollen, ready to be taken.
But instead of going where I wanted him most, he pulled his mouth away and pushed his body up against mine, his fingers tangling in the back of my hair, hard muscular legs entwining my own. His entire body was like a smooth glacier, sinews and muscle carved into every plane and curve. I could feel the hardness of his cock pushing against my stomach and I longed to touch it, to take it between my lips, tease it with my tongue.
Instead, his mouth crushed down onto mine, angry and passionate. I kissed him back, my tongue searching the cold of his mouth, his own tongue tracing the inside of mine.
I reached down, my fingers tracing the solid muscle of his body. How could this be real? How could I be touching something in my heart I knew did not belong to this world?
I ran my hands down his chest, his own rippled stomach, and the hard length of his cock sprang up to meet me. My fingers tentatively stroked its curved length, feeling its satin smoothness. He trembled beside me, my contact creating the same sensations that he had in me.
Then he pulled away again. I groaned in disappointment, but then I felt his mouth upon my skin once more. He headed down now, cold lips nibbling the skin of my stomach, his mouth brushing the narrow strip of hair I left down there. I spread my legs wide, my body trembling in anticipation.
Then his mouth was on me, the coolness of his tongue a balm against my hot flesh. Starting at the base of my pussy, tantalisingly close to the tight pucker of my ass, he slowly licked upwards, ending on the quivering nub of my clit. I gasped in delight. He moved down again, his tongue flicking my ass just briefly before travelling back up. Over and over, he licked me each time paying just a little more attention to my tight hole. I moaned, my head thrashing against the pillow, my fingers gripping the sheets.
Then I felt his finger teasing my ass, gently probing, teasing me open. He pushed his finger inside of me, his tongue still working my clit. Slowly, he pumped his finger, slick with my own juices. Cold in the heat of my tight ass.
I was on the verge, my orgasm so close it held me captive. I was unable to think of anything else but the sheer pleasure racing through my veins. I didn’t want him to stop, but he did, pulling his face away from my pussy, and finger from my ass, and travelling back up my body.
Still, some forced held me pinned to the bed.
He was leaning over me now, his weight pressing into the mattress either side of me. My pussy was slick and wet, and, with a slight shift in his position, his rock-hard cock pushed into me. I gasped with pleasure, my hands pinned down either side of my head, unable to reach up and pull him deeper and harder.
He was a raging fire, all consuming, violent and hungry as he thrust deep into me. And as I climbed towards climax, his strong fingers wrapped around my wrists, holding me down, and his body slammed into mine. His desperation matched my own until I was unaware of anything but the mounting tide inside of me, straining to break its dam and destroy all thought, all knowledge. The upsurge inside of me flooded and as it did so I screamed out loud, my body jolting in spasms of sheer delight, my thoughts a torrent inside my head.
And then I was lying, alone in the bed. He had gone.
My experience felt like a dream. Was that all it had been? I had climaxed in my sleep before, but never anything like that.
I rolled over in bed, my fingers touching the empty space where my husband was supposed to lie. The movement caused me to wince in pain, my wrists still sore and bruised from where he had held me.
And, just before I sank back into the arms of sleep, I heard the house whisper…
Marissa will be returning on 4th November with her brand new story, Three’s not a crowd.
If you missed any of our first month’s posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase the Everything Erotic Volume I anthology as an ebook at only $2.99!
Copyright © 2010 Marissa Elliott
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.