Return to Haunted Sex HousebyFeverDreamer©
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following is a sequel to my story 'Haunted Sex House'. It is a supernatural horror story, with elements of nonconsent, bisexuality, incest, and some character deaths. All characters are 18 or older.
Tim walked across the grey concrete plaza, shoulders hunched up, trying to protect himself from the cold late-October wind that swept through the treeless expanse. Though it was the middle of the day, the grey sky was overcast as if it were dusk. Large grey institutional buildings towered over him on either side. By the time he crossed the space and entered the doors to the college library, he was chilled through to the bone. His face was pale, about a week's worth of scraggly beard on his face, and brown hair mussed by the wind. He rubbed his chilled hands as he walked in further.
After some time browsing the aisles, and searching through the computer databases, he lined up to check out a couple of books he held under his arm. Tim nervously played with his library card in one hand, taking a glance at it now and again to assure himself that it looked alright. When a station became free, he walked up and slid his books across the counter, library card on top, not making eye contact with the worker.
The man sitting there swiped Tim's library card through, then hit a few keys on the computer, then swiped it through again. He made a "Hmm," sound, and took a few more minutes staring at the screen and tapping keys, while Tim tried to hide his nervousness, shifting from one foot to the other.
"It says your card's invalid. It's expired," said the man.
"Oh?" Tim said, and finally looked up. The person at the computer was maybe a few years older than him, a black man that looked tall even while sitting down, wearing stylish glasses, with a freshly shaved head but some bushy black sideburns in front of each ear.
"Yes," the man continued, "Actually it says here you haven't been a student here since...last spring?"
"Really?" Tim furrowed his brows and leaned over the counter a bit. "I mean, it worked before. I just took something out last week, I really hadn't had a problem--"
The man nodded, "This weekend they did some kind of purge of the system, it wasn't recognizing expired accounts properly." His hand covered Tim's books, and now twisted them around to read their spines as he talked. "As you can see, it's working much better now." Tim took a step back, and looked like he was about to leave, when the man leaned over, and spoke a little softer, "Listen, I can get these books to you, okay? Meet me in five minutes."
It was so unexpected, Tim just stood there looking at him as he tried to understand what was happening, "What?"
The black man pulled the books closer to himself, then pulled them away and put them somewhere under the counter. "I said, I can get these books to you that you wanted, okay? Just have a seat there," He pointed to some big tables in an open study area. "Just wait there five minutes, and I'll get the books to you. I just want to talk to you, okay?"
Tim stood there not saying anything, so the man said again, "Okay?"
"Okay," Tim nodded, took his student card off the counter, and slipped it into his pocket as he navigated his way through the other students, to the tables indicated.
His mind was spinning, and as soon as he found an open spot and sat down, he wondered if he should get up right away again, get up and leave. He didn't know who that guy was, but he'd obviously been caught out using the library while not being a student. He did always return the books, he consoled himself. In his mind, he was running over the events of the last year. After that incident with his mother on Halloween, his studies got tossed to the side. That was the first night they fucked, under some malevolent spiritual influence in that cursed house. And after they left the next morning, they just went home and fucked and fucked and fucked some more. Tim and his mother fucked for weeks and weeks, getting lost, adding in alcohol and drugs when it helped, but those weren't the cause, no, they both felt they were still in the grip of something elemental. Picked up from that abandoned house they sheltered in during the storm. It wasn't only in their house, they courted danger by fucking in public, in public washrooms and in alleyways behind dumpsters, getting caught a few times and chased off, nobody apparently suspecting that the young stud and lusty cougar were actually related by blood. After the new year, Tim tried to come back to school, but his head was still spinning, he was too obsessed, too emotionally raw. His academic career crashed and burned, and now that he and his mother had resolved to keep separate, for their own sanity, he haunted the campus like a shadow, tenuous living conditions with a girlfriend, who--
"Hey, thanks for waiting." The voice startled Tim out of his reverie, and he jumped a bit in his chair. "Whoa there, didn't mean to startle you, hehe. Here's your books." The man put them on the table and then sat down in a chair near Tim, slumping down in a relaxed way. Tim could evaluate him a bit better now that he wasn't behind the counter - he was dressed like a student, sneakers, dark jeans, a stylish sweater. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring them back late, they're out on my card. My name's Andre, by the way."
They shook hands, "I'm Tim. Uh, well, thanks."
"Don't go yet." Andre put his hand on the books, not letting Tim take them. "I got you the books, I figure you at least owe me a listen."
"Um, about what?"
"About what you've been studying." Andre took a glance at the spines again, one dusty hardcover was a locally printed volume, 'An Oral History of the Kawakensis Valley' while a more well-thumbed volume was 'Wilson's Further Demonology', and on top sat a recently published book, 'All in the Mind? Alien Abduction, Possession and Mind Reading in the Modern World'.
Andre continued, "Specifically a property a bit more than an hour away from here. It's commonly referred to as the Bernard House."
Tim shook his head slightly side to side, "Uh, look, I'm really sorry about using the library, okay, won't happen again..."
"That's not important," Andre said, waving his hand through the air. "I don't just mean these books, I mean I've seen you skulking around here, always on the same subjects. And what I didn't see myself, I could tell from your loan history." Andre took a deep breath, "It's not just curiosity is it? Something happened to you there, at the Bernard House?"
Tim stayed quiet.
"Let me give you a short historical outline, just to make sure we're clear on the basic details." Andre looked around. They were sitting at the end of a large table, off by the wall. It was fairly quiet, and nobody seemed to be within eavesdropping distance. "The property we're talking about, it actually had quite a set of legends weaved around it, even before a minor industrialist decided to build a home there about a hundred years ago. From all accounts the construction was a disaster, bankrupted him before he was finished, not to mention the three or four deaths that occurred during the construction - accounts aren't clear on the exact number.
"So, it then passed from owner to owner, with something of a checkered history. A gangster's haven during the Jazz Age. Home to questionable escapees from Europe after the fall of Nazi Germany - dodgers of the trials, some said.
"Though its greatest fame comes from the Bernard family, who took possession sometime in the mid-60s. A father, a mother, lovely twin daughters. There's not really much public material on them, until that day in 1969, when police responded to out-of-the-ordinary noise and music coming from the house. The neighbours said it had been going on for several days.
"When they finally burst in, they found, well, I guess you'd call it a hippie party in full swing. Loud music, sex, drugs. The hippie group later claimed that they'd been bumming across America in a couple of vans, and when they stopped at the Bernard house, the door was wide open, and they made themselves at home. Anyway, the police found the mother, naked, partying with these people. I've read the police reports - at first they thought she was tripping on drugs, laughing at everything and talking about things that weren't there, but from what I've heard, she never fully regained sanity.
"The father and the blonde twin girls? Both missing. There was enough damage to the girls' shared room, blood and other fluids, that they suspected something truly wicked, but there wasn't enough evidence to conclude anything. Same with the dead hippies they pulled out of there -- more than half the party dead, violently. But they couldn't prove that the guilty weren't among the dead as well."
Andre shifted in his seat, scratched his chin and continued, "Anyway, they locked up the mother in some asylum a few hours away. They started laying big criminal charges on the surviving hippie 'love group', but they quickly realized they wouldn't stick, and I doubt any of them spent more than a few months in jail.
"The house hasn't been occupied regularly since, and has fallen into disrepair. Every year or two the local cops usually find a dead drifter's body, inside or on the land outside, and much more often bizarre sacrifices of house pets and farm animals - they attribute it to local teen delinquents having a lark, but keep it pretty hushed up just the same. There've been plans to tear down the house for a long time, but nothing ever came of it, I think it's stuck in some sort of legal limbo at the county level."
Andre finished and they both sat there quietly for a bit.
Finally Tim nodded, "Yeah, that's the house. Obviously, your interest in it isn't casual either, is it?"
Andre nodded, "I'm a psychology major. In my last year. I got interested in the story when researching accounts of altered psychological states. I'm going into a masters program next year, and I don't think this story's done. I think if I uncovered more, I could build a lot of my academic work around it. Something different that will really get people's attention"
"Well...what does it have to do with me?" Tim asked.
Andre pulled out a card from his pocket, and on the blank side he scribbled down some information. "I'm going back. In a few days actually, so this must be my luck running into you again. I've taken a few day trips, but this time I'm going with a group - er, the Psychic Phenomena Platoon? Don't know if you've heard of them, they're a small student group on campus here, been around for a few years. We're going to stay a few days, really explore everything we can, scrape the site clean of any and all evidence.
"And...I'd like you to come with us."
"Oh," Tim said softly, and already began shaking his head.
"Come with us. You won't really be required to do anything, but just give your impressions, any information anyone else asks of you. And, not only am I going to cover your expenses, but I think I have a few hundred dollars laying around in my grad project budget that I could push your way. Just don't tell the other group members, I'm not rich." He smiled and pushed the paper across to Tim. "I don't expect you to say yes right now, just think it over. There's my number, and the info about where you can wait for us to pick you up. I can't change the date unfortunately, so you'll have to decide quickly.
"Look, I can see you've got some unresolved business - don't you want to bury the past?" Tim stood up, gathered up the books, and slipped the scrap of paper with the information into his pocket. Andre added as Tim began to leave, "Also, I believe someone else was with you that day? Is there any chance she could come along too?"
Tim hurried back to his girlfriend's apartment, books awkwardly bundled under his arm, looking down at the pavement, not wanting to meet anyone's eye. He felt embarrassed, exposed. Someone knew at least something of what happened, and jumbled thoughts in his mind focused on fleeing, getting away, anywhere. He never wanted to see that library again, and certainly not that superficially-friendly Andre. Tim thought he'd been anonymous, but it turns out someone had been watching him like a hawk.
There was another feeling competing with Tim's shame, caused by dredged-up memories and emotions of his experience at the house, and all the sexual abandon he'd felt and engaged in. Much of the way home, he was doing all he could to conceal the hard-on tenting out his pants, and as soon as he unlocked the door of the apartment and stepped in, he dropped the books and began touching himself, squeezing his cock through his pants, reaching in and feeling the throbbing thick flesh, undoing his pants and sighing with relief as his cock throbbed free in the open air.
He'd lost track of time, and found himself sitting back on the main couch, his arms still in his jacket, pants around his ankles and his rock-hard cock in his hand, as he heard scratches around the apartment door, which then opened to the sound of footsteps. His bleary eyes scanned around him as he kept pumping his cock, and he saw the remains of blasts of semen on the parquet wood floor -- a few clumps of paper towel apparently used trying to clean it up before abandoning the job.
"Tim, are you home??" his girlfriend's voice said, as he could hear her pulling off her jacket and shoes, her handbag scraping the side of the narrow entranceway.
"Mmmph, yeah," his voice said, and he realized that his throat was parched, the sound coming from it all scratchy and depleted. He shook his head and tried to clear away some of the cobwebs of old revelry he'd been mentally indulging in again. He started to stand up, his legs slightly wobbly.
His girlfriend, Alexandra, continued, "Turns out I'm not leaving tomorrow to visit my parents after all, Jenny's driving by here tonight and is gonna pick me up, so I'll be back home all weekend, and...um...."
Tim had stood up and walked up to her. She could see something off in his eyes, and when she looked down, the bottom part of his shirt was sticking out, barely concealing his throbbing cock.
"Tim, what's going on?" she asked wearily, eyes blinking at him through her glasses.
He grabbed her upper arms and pressed her against the entranceway wall.
"Come on now," she said, and tried to shake free and head towards the bedroom. But he kept her in place. "Stop fooling, okay? I don't have time for that now, I told you I have to pack! I told you, I'm not interested in any of this freaky...umgh...."
Her breathing came quicker as she felt Tim squeeze her upper arms harder, starting to push her down the wall. "Tim, no!" she called out more loudly, as her knees bent.
"Do you hear me, Tim?? We agreed, regular love in our bed, and that's it. I'm your girlfriend, not your whore. I said no!!"
Tim just grunted in reply as he pushed her down, her face now level with his cock, brushing his shirt aside to reveal all of his thick hard veiny cock, throbbing in the open air. He hissed softly through his teeth, "Just take it."
Alexandra was trembling now. She opened her mouth to try to find some other words to dissuade Tim, but he just took that opportunity to push his fat cockhead in her mouth. He sighed as he felt it slip past her warm lips, the fat head slightly brushing against the front of her white teeth, before she opened wider and his cock slipped deeper into her, where her spit-wet tongue started to swirl around the cock, if only to try to slow down the oral penetration.
Tim put his two hands in her hair, bunching it up in his fists on either side of her head, and started to move his hips, moving that cock in and out of her mouth, as the back of her head was trapped against the wall, and couldn't go further back. A few times he pushed deeper, pushing the cockhead against the opening of her throat, his cock throbbing in satisfaction when she gagged a little and more drool dripped down the shaft.
Alexandra crossed her arms over herself, hugging herself, as she closed her eyes and tried to bear with it, trembling, coughing over the cock fucking her mouth, feeling its disturbing heat and salty taste.
Tim had already been stimulating himself for a long time before she came home, so he couldn't hold back much longer. He shut his eyes tight and thought of images far away from this quiet apartment where nothing but faint noises of gagging and slurping filled the rooms.
His cock started to explode, firing a few shots of thick, hot sperm into Alexandra's mouth, into the back of her throat. As he was caught in the orgasm his hands eased up on gripping her hair, and as she coughed on the cum, Tim's big wet cock slipped out of her mouth. It still aimed at her face as it kept shooting, thick sticky wet blasts across her face, over her glasses, in her hair. On the wall behind her, and dripping down on her clothes.
At the end Tim just stood there, getting his breath back, his eyes slowly squinting open, sensitive to even the soft electric light. His cock hung half-hard, a few drops of cum still forming at the tip. Alexandra felt too disgusted to even stand up face-to-face with him, she crawled on all fours halfway across the room, then got to her feet.
As she stood up a thick drop of cum fell from her forehead and onto an eyelid, closing it, some of the still-warm spunk stinging her eyeball. "I want you OUT, got that??" she yelled at him, seething. "Out out OUT. When I come back on Monday, you better be GONE." She stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
As Tim wandered around in a half-daze, walking over to the fridge and looking for a beer, scratching noises came from the other side of the door, as Alexandra shoved a chair under the doorknob to protect herself from intrusion.
Morning was just dawning, a brightness in the sky over the campus buildings to the east, as Tim, freshly shaved, carried a bag on a strap over his shoulder, and searched for the right place to wait.
As he turned the corner around the bookstore, he saw another figure sitting on a wood bench, a travel bag at his feet. Tim walked up and said, "Um, you don't happen to be part of Andre's group, are you? Waiting to get picked up?"
The person glanced up. It was a young man that looked a year or two younger than Tim, wearing jeans, an army-styled jacket, thick-framed hipster glasses, and a cap on his head. Tufts of dark-blonde hair hung out past the edges of his hat. He nodded and smiled, "Yeah, I'm in PPP - uh, the paranormal group? Are you? I haven't seen you around."
"No," Tim shook his head, and took a seat on the same bench. He shivered a bit at the cold morning and hoped it would warm up soon. "But I'm coming along on the excursion. I know Andre personally, you could say."
The other young man introduced himself as Troy. They didn't have long to wait before a large van pulled up, rust spots around the wheel wells, and a decal of a national car rental business on the side.
Almost everyone needed to step out to fit the bags in properly, so Andre took the opportunity to introduce Tim to the group. "You've already met Troy. This is Hesperia Jones, she's an Associate Professor of Psychology, and provides the academic oversight to the PPP - the group." A curvy redheaded woman that looked to be in her mid-thirties stepped forward.
"Pleased to meet you, Tim." she said, shaking his hand. She was wearing dark blue jeans, a red turtleneck sweater under a brown leather jacket, and a bronze-coloured necklace made up of thick chain links, with various trinkets hanging off it, hanging all the way down to her bust. She was dressed relatively conservatively, but she was certainly one of the bustiest, curviest women Tim had ever seen, and he glanced back to her as he was introduced to the other group members.