That Old House

When I finally retired to my room, it was well after midnight. I put on a pair of boxers, and climbed under the covers. I kept my hand clear of my waist, in case playing with myself had been a catalyst to whatever the hell happened. I felt foolish, more convinced than ever that my mind was playing tricks on me.

I fell asleep easier than I would have thought possible.

It was cool in the room. I was slowly waking to that same wondrous feeling. My covers had been pushed aside, and my cock was sticking up out of the fly in my boxers, hard and happy. I almost leaped out of the bed, when I recognized the stroking from the night before. I reached my hand down to see if I could feel anything, but there was nothing to feel. Moving my hand up and down, I sensed that same tingling, almost like static electricity, and the hair on my arms stood up. When I pulled my hand away, the tingling went away, but the feeling surrounding my cock lingered, and if anything intensified.

What the fuck?

What was happening to me? Inwardly, I knew I should be concerned, but I felt nothing but pleasure. I wasn't scared. I wasn't even nervous. I was being pleasured, being tended with gentleness. I moaned. The intensity was as strong as the previous night, stirring me strongly.

"You're going to make me come," I said softly.

I felt that enveloping closure around my cock. Not warm precisely, but blocking the coolness of the room. The crown of my head was being teased, my shaft stroked. I felt the end approaching and watched. I came hard, grunting, and saw my cum disappearing. Rope after rope I expelled, only to watch it immediately fade away.

The stroking continued for a brief moment longer, and then to my amazement, my cock was tucked back into my boxers.

"Why?" I asked the empty room.

I didn't really expect an answer and I didn't get one.

* * *

Once it started, it only got worse.

I was marginally more useful at work, and was able to complete a customer visit without fucking up too badly. I was making slow progress on The House, sometimes speaking to Bev and/or Karen on my phone while working. I didn't mention my late night visitor of course. I didn't believe it, how could they?

I went back to sleeping naked, and found that if I made myself available when I got in the bed, my spectral friend would go to work right away. The feelings were intensifying, the stroking more pronounced. I imagined it was a mouth finishing me, and felt the reaction more intensely. I could feel suction. The tingling was as strong as ever, but the motion had a more physical element.

Each time I came, I was still surprised to find myself clean and dry afterward. The release was exhausting, leaving me cold and trembling, yet frighteningly satisfied.

My visitor was becoming greedier, and I was waking most nights to another erection being tended to. I experimented with staying in bed in the morning, stroking myself, and quickly found my helper was willing to take over for me. A steaming hot shower afterward took care of any lingering aftereffects.

By the time the weekend arrived, I considered myself lucky. All the stories I'd heard about ghosts or spirits had never hinted at this. No eerie noises, no furniture clattering, no strange footsteps. Just a willing sex buddy, with the singular goal of getting me off. Was that really so bad?

I took a break midday on Sunday, after lunch and a call to my girls out west. I cleaned up, stripped down and climbed in my bed naked, waiting to see if anything would happen. It took a couple of minutes and I wasn't disappointed.

It was different. I felt the touch, but this time it was on my chest, fondling me, stroking me. The tingling was minimized, replaced with the feather-light contact. The caressing slowly moved southward, bypassing my limp cock, and focusing on my legs. I looked at the bed to see if I could detect any movement, but it was all limited to my body.

My cock wasn't left alone long, and I felt the motion on it, the slight pressure caressing, then surrounding me. I quickly hardened, imagining invisible hands stroking me to readiness.

I relaxed, giving myself over to the feeling, letting my spectral guest work. I could feel the motion clearly, imagining where the fingers enveloped me, the lone thumb opposite. The mouth settled down early, encasing me, moving further down my shaft.

"That's nice," I murmured, being rewarded with a teasing of the head.

As was usual, I came rather quickly, but my ghostly fellatrix continued to stroke me, playing with me, teasing me, rapidly restoring my hardness. It took longer the second time, but I was able to deliver a second gift after a few minutes.

I felt the movement again, moving up my body, brushing across my nipples. A gentle tingling pressure against my lips almost made me jump, but I held still, feeling the pressure return, a soft hint against my parted lips, but undeniable.

I closed my eyes, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Who are you?" I asked softly.

It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard the faintest of whispers.

"...friend..."

* * *

It had only been three weeks since Bev and Karen had left, and three more weeks until they'd be coming back out for Christmas. I was hard at work, determined to impress them with the updated second floor.

Things were moving ahead great. I was completely energized, my real-world job doing well, and The House effort was paying off. My first several months of working on The House on my own had been difficult emotionally. I was alone, except for the remote Bev, who at the time had been a wonderful anchor, but seemed more like an audience than a participant.

The long weekend together had changed all that. I saw her as a partner now, so much of her life vested in my project. Karen was in, too. Whereas Bev focused on every detail of The House, Karen was fascinated with the place as a whole, especially the property, the landscaping, the stream and our fabulous forest. Each day I continued to send them pictures of my work, holding back a few surprises for their visit.

The time since then had introduced a new partner into my plans.

My bedtime visitor was making her presence more known. I thought of my uninvited guest as a 'her', I guess my macho self couldn't imagine anyone satisfying me sexually as anything else.

The touches were becoming common events, brushing against me whenever I took a break. Only inside The House, although the porch was included. It was crazy, I know. No other word for it. I loved her touch, and started seeking it out. After a day's work, I'd come home tired. I'd change, prepare myself dinner, and unwind on the porch, calling my girls nearly every evening. About a week earlier, I'd felt her touch on my cheek, my neck, while on the phone. I don't know what made me do it, but I stood and lowered my pants and boxers. I was speaking with Karen, having finished my call with Bev, and the sensation started. I was hard within moments, but the touch was different, teasing. It was only after I got off the phone that the real action started.

I leaned back, sipping a beer, and let her pleasure me. The warmth was there, the sliding pressure, the gentle movement. I lasted a couple of minutes, completed another orgasm that left me dry, got dressed and proceeded to work on the upstairs.

My new daily routine had me putting on a robe for dinner, getting my spectral blowjob, working a few hours on The House, getting another one after my evening shower, waking to another in the middle of the night, and starting the day right with yet another. I didn't understand it. There was something about her touch that brought me to near instant readiness. It seemed no matter how often I came, she could always get me ready for more.

I was talking to her now. Not getting any response other than the usual touch or caress. I'd finished framing all the rooms upstairs, installed the wiring, and was starting to put up the walls. I expected that by the end of the weekend, I'd have two of the rooms finished on the inside. I was leaving the plumbing and hallway walls open until I got my electrician to sign off on the wiring. Most of each paycheck went for more things for The House. Other than gas and food, I had few expenses.

I was pleasantly exhausted, relaxed, the fire keeping the room toasty, the covers pulled aside. It was late, after 1:00 am, and my friend was in a hurry. I was barely in the bed, before I felt her touch.

I chuckled, getting comfortable. "We can go twice in a row, if you like," I said.

She worked me through the first one pretty quickly. I groaned my release, and was surprised to feel her touch moving up my body. Looking down I could see the sparse hairs on my chest moving as the caress continued upward. It advanced to my neck, and across my cheeks, until it seemed my face was being held. I moaned as a faint pressure descended on my lips, a gentle touch opening them. An incredibly sweet invisible kiss.

My erection had returned, and I groaned as I felt another touch, down there. A renewed pressure, enveloping me, invisible lips still grazing mine. It started moving, and my hips responded automatically.

"God that feels good, Mary," I groaned.

As quickly as that, all the sensation disappeared. I was left with an aching hard-on, and a fear that my words had frightened my friend off. I was stunned for a moment, the haze that enveloped me during my visitations slower to disappear than her touch.

I had never given the visitor a name, not in my head, and certainly not out loud. I don't know why I said that, or picked that name. I guess that's not completely true, moments after I was alone, I suspected the reason. Bev's Aunt Mary was the one who had met her untimely demise in The House. I didn't know any other Mary, and once I thought about it, I realized I associated her with The House stronger than anything else.

After the way I'd scared her off I guess I was wrong. Hell, the original house had been built at least 140 years before she ever graced it with her presence. Who knows how many dozens of people lived in it over the years? Or if that even had anything to do with what was going on.

I didn't get woken up in the night. After waiting almost half an hour in the morning, I didn't receive my morning gift. I felt bad, mildly depressed, while I worked on one of my side projects the whole morning. No touches during the day, no mystery caresses. I was alone in The House.

A brief call to Bev raised my spirits a bit after lunch, and I went back upstairs to work on the bedrooms. The walls were finished with the same wood I was using for everything. Drywall would have been easier, but nothing was cheaper than free wood, and I certainly had enough of that. I used it for the flooring, for the walls, even for the ceilings. I loved the feel of it, the smell, and knowing it came from the property. Mostly hickory for framing, white oak for paneling, and red oak for the flooring. I couldn't bring myself to cut down any of the most spectacular specimens, but clearing the road to The House gave me plenty to work with, including a good bit of pine nearest the road. The diversity of the trees still amazed me.

After dinner, it was back to side projects before calling it a night. I waited, hopefully for a late night visit, but was disappointed.

By Sunday night, I was starting to think it had all been my imagination. A ghostly friend with benefits? Right. I'd made great progress on the second floor, and was feeling good about things again. I made an early night of it, calling the girls, sipping my scotch on the porch, and settling in with a cigar.

I showered the sweat off, and gave it another 30 minutes or so, exposing myself, hoping for a visit. No luck, however, and I settled in for a restless night.

When I woke, it was still pitch dark out, and my covers were gone. I was hard and being serviced. "Sorry," I said softly. "I didn't mean to offend."

The action continued, more demanding, and after a couple of minutes of attention, I moaned my release. I was happy for the moment, and settled back in. I pulled the covers up, and almost laughed when they slowly slid off my body again. The touching started, caressing my chest, then shoulders. I felt movement on my hardening cock, and once again, the feeling of complete envelopment.

"Thank you, that's incredible," I whispered softly, as my mysterious visitor slid up and down my length.

I closed my eyes, and felt her brush against my lips. I kissed her back, thrusting upward needily. Something moved between my lips and I opened my mouth. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring into a mirage, a barely visible pair of dark eyes gazing back at me.

My heart raced and I had to resist screaming. The eyes moved away, and I could make out the barest outline of a feminine face, almost a shimmer in the air, the surrounding room clear behind it. The motion was still going on at my waist, and even the fear couldn't stop me from responding. I was getting close, too close, when the movement stopped. The phantasmal face moved downward and captured my cock, only moments before I erupted.

The feeling was stronger than ever before, and I gasped, shooting off over and over again, until I was totally spent. I lay there sweating, my chest heaving, fighting off a case of the shakes. Looking down, I saw the face was gone. That's all it ever was, no body, not even hair, just a hint of a face. A beautiful one.

Trembling, I reached for the covers, only to stop when they slowly crawled up my body, covering me up. My lips were brushed against momentarily, and I was left wondering for my sanity.

* * *

The following week passed, and I was back into my regular daily schedule. No more faces, but I was serviced three or four times a day. I still spoke to her softly, only of my pleasure. No names, no questions. I didn't want to scare her away.

On Tuesday I was given the flight arrival times for Bev and Karen. They'd be arriving a week from Thursday on December 23rd, in the evening. I had Friday off for Christmas, so that worked out perfectly. The following week was our Christmas shutdown, from the 27th, through New Years. I'd have plenty of time to spend with the girls.

Jim, my electrician inspected my electrical work, and after insisting on a few changes, signed off on it, for a couple of hundred bucks. I called Andrew, took Friday afternoon off, and had him out. He looked over the work, signed off his paper, and gave me the nice green tag I needed to keep going, at least legally. I took the opportunity to invite him and his family out over the Christmas holiday. I think I surprised him.

"Maybe Sunday the 26th?" I offered.

He grinned. "I need to check in at home, but I know Brianna would love to see the place, after all I've told her. You don't mind the kids?"

"Heck no. One day I wouldn't mind filling the place with my own. Try to talk her into it. I'll have some guests over, the original owner and her nurse."

He smirked. "I know you're not going to tell me you're living in there."

"Of course not! My trailer may be a little crowded, but it's still here."

He grinned. "Alright Jack. No more questions from me. But if you could get the third floor wired and the plumbing finished, as well as put in the last windows, I imagine we can find a way to get you a habitation permit. Please don't drag it out too long."

"Believe me, if I had the funds, I'd do it tomorrow. It'll be a few more months probably, but I'll see what I can do."

"If you want, I can talk to Dale at the bank. I'm sure he could work out a short-term loan for you. It's not like you don't have a couple of million dollars of collateral here."

A couple of million? "I doubt it's worth anywhere near that."

"Are you kidding? Nearly 500 acres, worth at least $4 grand an acre? Hell, the guys at the University are hammering on me to get everything from the creek north declared a national treasure. Dr. Jansen is convinced you have a State Champion beech on your property. Your lumber alone is probably worth three times what the land is, although it would be a real shame to cut any of the old growth down."

I was stunned by his numbers, and realized I had no idea what I was sitting on. "I think I'm in way over my head. I'm gonna need some help. Shit, I hadn't even thought about what the property taxes were going to run me."

"That shouldn't be too bad. I'm guessing that 490+ acres of the land will come under agricultural timber management. It'll cost you a few thousand a year, tops. The property taxes on the house will cost you more than that. I wouldn't sweat it yet. As long as you don't do anything with the land other than right around this house, you should be safe. I'll ask around."

Once he'd left, I knew I needed to take some time and do some real research and planning. I was feeling more than a little stressed.

Saturday, the daily caresses continued, and it seemed like things were back to normal with my special friend. I received my morning wake up call, a surprise lunchtime relief, and another visit during my porch unwinding time. I had completed a couple of my surprise projects, and was particularly relaxed.

I was talking to her again, describing what I wanted to do with The House, asking her opinion on decisions, not expecting any reply. It was similar to what I was doing with Bev. I'd hate to think how weird it would have looked if anyone saw me.

At dinner, I even set her a place at the table. I wasn't so far gone that I served her food, but for some reason I thought she might join me.

"Bev and Karen are coming for Christmas next week. I hope you don't mind."

Of course there was no response.

"I really need to figure out a worthy present for Bev. You know she's the one who sold me this place. Gave it to me really. I couldn't have done any of this without her."

After a suitably long pause, I continued. "Andrew's probably bringing his family by for dinner next Sunday. It'll be nice to have a full house. I don't know what it was like in your day, but now there's a million ways the government messes with you. We're lucky to have him on our side. He could have made this hell on us, but he's been a Godsend."

I continued my one-sided conversation throughout dinner and the cleanup. I was feeling good about the inspection and my progress. I knew I'd be able to finish the four bedroom walls the next day. I only put in a couple of hours after dinner and decided to call it a day.

"Join me on the porch? I think I'll have a night cap and we can hit the bed early. We both deserve to celebrate a bit. This was a big day."

I didn't dress down for my break. I had my drink and a smoke, and chatted. I knew she was with me. I could sense it.

"I wish I knew something about you. What I should call you. I think we'll be together for a long time. I know I'm not going anywhere, this is my dream house."

I told her of my obsession with the place, hunting down information on it, tracking down Bev. I rehashed my first meetings at the senior home, and her generous gift. I even told her about what I knew of the history.

I was out there a good hour, in the cool night air. I was getting cold, and figured I'd had enough. "Come to bed, beautiful? Celebrate with me?"

I was only a little surprised when I felt her wispy kiss.

I took a quick shower. I wanted to be clean for her. Why? I have no idea. It was important to me. I dried off, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and retired to my bedroom. I built up the fire to keep the chill out, pulled down the sheets, and climbed on the bed.

I felt her touch within moments, making me hard. "Can we take it slow? I'm here for you. As many times as you want, tonight. Whatever you need."

I guess she took me at my word. She teased me, her always faint touch just a whisper against my flesh. Her kiss, on the other hand, was firmer and warmer than ever. I had a flash of her face, it materialized for only a few seconds. Her hair was long and dark, piercing eyes that drilled down to my very soul, lips that offered a hint of a smile.