Horny Haunted House on the Hill

The uneven stairs groaned with each step she took. She followed the staircase up, guided by stamps of moonlight pasted on the floor through the crooked windowpanes. Cassie's voice, counting out the seconds, fell further and further away. Shelly's heart was working at double speed: she'd left Mina alone, and she'd never climbed so many stairs so quickly.

Her shadow flew down the hallway but still couldn't keep up with her. It finally managed to reach her when she stopped, starring at the ceiling from which a thin wire hung. When she squinted, Shelly could just make out the outline of a hatch-an attic hatch! Nobody would look in the attic.

Shelly took a deep breathe filled with dust and stale air. Her heart held itself together as she braved the attic. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of the wire. She pulled, but it didn't budge; a shower of dust fell to the floor. Shelly used two hands and pulled. The hatch heaved, coughed, then hung ajar. She yelped as it dropped in front of her with an exhale of air and dust entombed for decades. Darkness gasped above her. She felt swallowed up, drawn into the attic like a fly caught in a breath. She climbed the last few creaky steps into the tallest portion of the old haunted house on top of the hill.

The silence warned that Cassie had stopped counting. The sound of footsteps and squeaking floorboards made Shelly jump. She reached for the hatch, pulled up the staircase, and locked herself in. The footsteps passed. Shelly sighed. She wasn't found . . . yet.

The attic was surprisingly quaint--a low room with slanted ceilings and a turret at its end. The turret was a round extension with beautiful windows that framed the mischievous Halloween moon as if drifted over rooftops. Shelly made her way there, weaving through islands of cardboard boxes and storage trunks. She passed a mirror covered in sheets, an old wardrobe of heavy wood, and other things that made her hold her nun's habit close or else snag it on jutting ends. Once there, Shelly brushed off a cushion and sat at the window.

The town was alight in the warm glow of jack-o-lanterns and the strident illumination of flickering television sets spilling into the street. Neither of them was as soft as the dusting of light from the Halloween moon. What could it see on this fateful night? What tricks were being played? What treats being had? Shelly wondered, her chin resting on the windowsill.

She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through a book (a little horror piece to scare her on Halloween; she may have been regretting the choice now). Her veil started to lean over her eyes. She pushed it back up and brushed the strands of brown hair behind her ears. She pulled out her earbuds from her purse. Her music she kept low, had to be able to listen after all in case anyone came seeking. But who would look in the attic?

Whoever just pulled the hatch down, that's who.

Shelly heard it too late: the creaking stairs, footsteps in the hall, the hatch's release. Now someone was climbing up, and she needed a hiding spot.

Shelly jumped behind the wardrobe. She rolled into a ball and sat still in the shadows, waiting to be found.

Heavy footsteps made their way into the attic. When they reached the top of the stairs, Shelly's blood went cold.

The voice she heard exclaim, "Wow," as it reached the top wasn't Cassie's, and it wasn't Mina or Red.

Shelly squeezed her legs to her chest. Hopefully she could crush her heart before it broke her rib cage into pieces. Hopefully she'd die before seeing whoever it was walking towards the turret window, with heavy, ponderous steps. Had the hatch been closed? She hadn't listened. Her music still played in her ears; that silly pop song Red always teased her about was hardly a suitable song to be murdered to. Shelly chanced to take the earbuds out, and as she did the person, the monster, came into view.

It hadn't seen her yet. If it turned around however, it wouldn't mistake her. It was a huge man, so tall he had to slump to walk under the leaning roof. His shoulders scraped the walls, and his arms were as large as Shelly's waist. The man walked with a difficult gait, made worse by the cramp space, but he persevered for one thing. He made it to the large window. His palm touched the glass.

"Wow," he said it again.

The moon painted the neighborhood rooftops silver and dipped the treetops in glitter so that it all shone with serenity made wholesome by the golden candlelight and street lamps in which trick-or-treater's and their families strolled on this Halloween night.

"Wow."

The window reflected the man's face. His smile was slight, subtle, so it barely pulled the pale skin of his cheeks. His eyes were completely enthralled by the sight before him, and they shone like pools reflecting the moon. His expression was one of true appreciation. It made Shelly smile.

Then he turned around and laid eyes on her.

Shelly screamed, or so she thought. Her throat was too tight to swallow a pin. She had seized. At the very moment of fight or flight, Shelly had seized up in fear. Her heart seemed to have rerouted her nerves and every muscle that was supposed to move instead told her heart to beat faster. It was going to burst. She was going to die.

He waved at her.

"Hi. I'm Frank. I'm Under-dressed for Halloween! Get it?" He tried to laugh, "Haha, so, uh, are you Shelly? Cassie invited me over."

She couldn't nod.

"Have you seen the sight out the window? It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

Neither had she, she didn't say.

"Are you okay?" Frank sat down on floor as he wouldn't fit on the windowsill. A frown crossed his face. He rubbed his wrists nervously, "Am I bothering you? Do you want me leave?"

Shelly tried to swallow. She tried to clear her throat.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. He stood up and started for the hatch, keeping his eyes down as he passed Shelly.

"No," she finally managed, "you don't have to go."

Her words caught him just before he opened the hatch.

"Are you sure? I don't mind. I can probably find somewhere else to hide."

"No. It's fine. I was just choking on dust. Allergies," Shelly faked a cough and a clumsy grin.

"It's pretty dusty up here. I agree."

Frank shuffled back over to the window, his bulk making it difficult, but he managed it well enough.

"I'm Shelly. How are you?"

"Good. Thank you. How do you do?"

Frank held out his hand, and Shelly shook it cordially. She watched her hand engulfed in his and laughed nervously. Frank smiled a much worse smile, all teeth and crooked lips, and not enough rise in his cheeks.

"You like the window?" Shelly stuttered, "the view. It really is beautiful."

"Yes. Wow, really it is."

"Yeah."

Shelly looked around the attic. There were cobwebs in the corners. The wood looked dark and old, almost ashen. The shadows were funny shapes, like jagged shapes, on account of the moonlight hitting parts of the mirror. And Frank was looking at the floor and rubbing his wrists again, she noticed when she glanced at him. When he caught her eyes, she shot away-the wardrobe has swirls carved into its legs.

Frank sat back down and made himself comfortable. He made sure to leave enough space for Shelly to sit at the window sill. He took his phone out of his pocket and began to read (a little horror story to frighten him on Halloween).

Shelly observed his reading. She watched him handle the device in his big hands, cradling it in his palm, scrolling with his pinky. A few minutes passed before she decided to move from her fetal position in the shadow of the wardrobe to reclaim her seat at the windowsill. Frank didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't make any motions about it; he kept reading. Shelly folded her legs underneath her, replaced her earbuds, and took out her phone.

She found it difficult to read. Whenever she begun a new paragraph her eyes wondered off her screen. Frank was rubbing his wrists again. He did it so peculiarly, only with his forefinger and thumb and rubbing in a circular pattern around the circumference of his wrist. Shelly tried not to stare. She couldn't be sure he wasn't watching, but the odd quirk kept her attention hooked. As she watched, she noticed something strange--a thin line, like a scar along his wrists, both wrists and his neck as well.

"Are you wondering about them?" Frank asked.

"Oh, well," Shelly felt too embarrassed to ask.

"I had a terrible allergy that required surgery to fix. It's alright now. I grew out of it thankfully."

"That's so sad."

Frank shrugged, "I'm still here to enjoy the good things. Books, memories, love. It's not too bad."

"What kind of books?" Shelly asked as she lowered her phone.

"Right now? A horror book. For Halloween obviously."

"Yes, me as well. I'm reading an old gothic novel."

"I like gothics," Frank said.

A lull crept upon them, until Frank asked, "So what memories are your favorite?"

Shelly thought a little before saying, "well one of my favorite memories has to be reading my first book with my father."

"That sounds lovely. I don't think I've ever read any books with my father."

"Oh, you should try sometime. So, love? Who's been your favorite love?" Shelly plucked the words awkwardly out of the air.

"Who? Well there hasn't really been one," Frank rubbed the scar on his wrist.

"Ah, oh, well what would she be like? Look like? Or act? Like?"

"Curvy," Frank said almost absently, "Well, I think curves are pretty."

"Oh,"

"You?"

"Oh," Shelly felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought about all the things she wanted in a lover. Then suddenly she said, "big."

She slapped her hands over her mouth.

"Big? Like tall, or large, or do you mean, like, big? Well endowed?"

Shelly didn't answer.

Frank felt the lull hanging over them. He needed words, "Big is pretty good. How big?"

She was turning crimson.

Frank panicked, "I'm pretty big so maybe I could help you. Pick someone, maybe."

Her gaze fell on the floor, searching at her feet for the resolve.

"How big?" She found it, asking through her fingers.

"Pretty big. I've never measured, but," Frank tried to come up with a comparison, but nothing came. He shook his head, wracking his brain, not thinking when he uttered, "It'd be easier to show you."

Shelly started, "Yeah?"

She felt something bubble inside of her--a flutter of hope and a twinge between her legs.

"May I?" She asked.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck, wondering. His eyes lingered on Shelly's full lips and the golden sheen they were given by the streetlights.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can show you."

He fumbled his belt loose and unzipped his jeans where his bulge was straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Shelly could feel herself stir as Frank rolled back the fabric. Her heart fluttered at the sight. His cock was hard and erect and easily the biggest thing she'd ever seen. It was longer than both her hands and if she clasped them together, they might just fit around its girth.

She was so riveted she didn't notice just how far forward she had leaned. On her palms, she teetered forward, pouring her eyes over the engorged member. Her mouth parted. She would have fallen if Frank hadn't braced her.

He placed his hands against her breasts. Despite her costume, despite her bra, he could feel her nipples pressing through.

Her sensitive breasts warned her of his hand.

"Oh, you probably want to see mine."

"Well-"

"It's fair,"

Shelly got to her feet. She collected the black robe of her nun costume into a bundle and pulled it over her head. Her veil and necklace slipped off with it, and she made sure to burry that cross beneath the veil (sorry grandmother).

Underneath she wore a flattering sweater that hugged her curves, her warm white leggings which stopped at her thighs, and a simple pair of shorts. She let Frank watch while she folded her costume. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw his erection twitch.

Before Frank could say anything, Shelly curled off her top and shimmied out of her pants. Now his cock jerked up. Any polite self-control Frank could muster was dashed at the sight of Shelly in her lacy cream bra and wet thong. Her hips were full and round upon thighs smooth as cream. Her breasts filled the cups of her bra and all Frank wanted to do was take them in handfuls and squeeze. Shelly didn't tease his fantasy long. She ignored the blush working through her cheeks, turned towards Frank, and unsnapped her bra.

She folded it and laid it gently on her costume. Her breasts swayed as she turned. The nipples were erect and pointed.

Shelly smiled at Frank, took a moment to breathe, and then slipped out of her lacy thong. As she slid them off her feet, her arousal fell away in strands as they were stretched from the ruddy lips of her sex to the gusset of her panties. She ignored the wet spot and folded them all the same.

When she finished, Shelly presented herself. Frank felt his cock buck as if his blood was boiling. He squeezed his thighs to brace himself and let his eyes feast. Seeing him roam her body only made Shelly wetter. She followed his eyes with her hands. She fondled her beasts, brushing across her nipples, cupping them in her palms. She drew her hands over her waist, riding the wide curve of her hips towards her dripping pussy. Lightly she grazed the inside of her thighs; the stockings were still on, and it was chilly in the attic so perhaps they'd stay. She took two fingers and spread her lips so Frank could see. Her clit peeked out from under its hood and her folds glistened.

Frank watched her sit down and smile at him, pushing away her mousy bangs. She took out her phone and continued to read. Frank couldn't. His cock was engorged and furious. Moonlight covered his broad shoulders. The muscles of his arms rolled and flexed under his skin as he squeezed the scars on his wrists. He could smell her in the air, so he breathed deeper and faster in order to have more. Heat came off him in waves and none knew that more than Shelly who felt it burning against her side and igniting her own passions.

Shelly saw it in the reflection of her screen. She didn't look back as she reached over and took Frank's aching cock in her hand. It was hot to the touch. Frank exhaled sharply as she began to masturbate him, pulling her hand up and down, watching the precum leak from his cockhead. Seeing the milky precum made her lick her lips. Shelly wanted to taste it. 'Big', she had said. She wanted him big, and she wanted to feel it. Already, she was salivating in anticipation. Spit collected along her lips. Her tongue bathed in her mouth. Precum stuck to her fingertips, warmed by Frank's overgrown cock.

"Frank," Shelly crouched between Frank's legs, rubbing the head of his cock with little circular motions, milking the precum from his tip. So close now, the heat made her flush. His scent brought her still closer until Frank could feel her breath on his body.

"Don't stop. Please, don't," Frank laid his hand over hers, and guided her along his shaft. Her soft hands brought him closer. They squeezed gently, but it was enough pressure to make him groan as she drew her hand from the base of his shaft to the tip.

"Take this," Shelly put her phone in his hands and faced its camera on her.

Frank held it carefully. He stared down at her through the screen. She was beautiful. His cock lay on her cheek. She was measuring it against her face; it went from chin to brow. Her eyes were glazed over, staring at the prize beside her, and a slight, subtle smile crossed her face.

"I want to suck your cock, Frank. And then, I'd like to you to put it in my wet cunt."

"Yes."

She positioned his cock head on her pillow soft lips. Her tongue spread a sheen of spit over them. It flicked out and lapped a drop of cum off Frank's tip before Shelly brought the head into her mouth. The musky taste of his cum was the first thing to strike her. Next was the warmth that filled her mouth, and finally she understood just how big he was.

Frank watched her swallow his cock, taking inch by inch of his meat into her mouth. He moaned as her tongue ran along his shaft. She swirled it around his head and flicked the underside. One of her hands braced herself against his belly. Her other hand held onto his penis, holding it steady. She took another inch. Frank felt the back of her throat. He suddenly thrust and groaned, forcing another inch deeper into her mouth. Shelly gagged and chocked, but held it all. Her eyes watered and ropes of spit and cum spilled out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

Frank saw her catch the remnants in her hand. The limpid mixture pooled in her palm. He watched her take the juices and bring them to her trembling cunt.

She slathered the mixture over herself, rubbing it furiously into her burning clit. Her finger dived into her cunt, pumping out her pussy juice and squirting it onto the floor. She scooped it out of her dripping hole and began to rub Frank's shaft, starting halfway up the base and pulling towards the top. She looked into the camera and gagged.

Shelly could hardly breathe, her throat stuffed with cock. It was swimming in so much spit she thought she may drown. Every thrust Frank made sent his shaft ramming against the back of her throat, and she gagged a little more. Spittle seeped form the corners of her mouth and she could feel tears brimming along her eyelids.

She slowly disgorged, sucking every inch as it passed between her lips. When she had freed herself from it, she lay it on her cheek, splattering herself with spit and cum. She took a breath, after swallowing whatever was left in her mouth.

Frank was enthralled, eyes never leaving Shelly's phone. That made her smile. She rewarded the devotion, kissing his cock down to the base.

Kneeling forward, she began to cradle his balls. They matched his cock for size, and Shelly relished the challenge. She started with a kiss, and warmth poured into her. Then she licked and sucked lightly. At last she opened wide and his testicle sunk into her mouth. She drew it further in with her tongue and sucked until Frank's breath broke out into quick, sudden moans.

Frank could feel the pressure rising his cock. He grabbed the back of her head. She took his cock back into her mouth. It throbbed against her cheeks, beat on the roof of her mouth. She swallowed deeper. Frank pushed her harder.

Shelly fingered her dripping cunt, stealing the spit off her plastered face and rubbing it into her blood-gorged clit until the organ buzzed with painful pleasure. Her jaw ached. She gagged again, but she took it deeper.

Frank could feel his cock pumping into the back of her throat. He stood up, up on his toes. He could feel his ass clenching. His groin became tight.

Shelly's legs quivered. She struggled to stay up, to breathe, as it was building inside of her. Frank exploded, pouring spurts of cum down Shelly's throat as her orgasm hit, sending her trembling to the floor with the sensation of bliss swimming through her.

Frank fell in a heap. His ragged breathes pained his heaving chest. Shelly let her trembling legs relax. She massaged her jaw, rubbing away the strain.

"Wow," Frank nearly shouted the word. In the excitement he had forgotten Shelly's phone. It was still in his hand, still recording. How much he had managed to film? He stopped the video and lifted himself up.

Shelly was already standing. Her face was smothered in a mix of sex juices: spit dripped from her chin, tears crossed her cheeks in silvery trails, cum and precum coated her lips. She had planted her hands-on Frank's knees and loomed over him. Her cunt drooled. Strands of her arousal clung to her thighs and stained the white of her stockings. The fabric on her toes was three shades darker than the rest, though here and there were spots and splatters of the same color.