Tales from the Closet

Hello kiddies this is your Closet Keeper with a naughty tale from, you guessed it, the closet. This naughty little yarn is called:

Love, Death & Happy Endings

Matthew was in the closet when it happened. He experienced chest pains before while jerking off, but at the age of eighteen he thought nothing of it. Now the pain in his chest was intense. He dropped his erection, staggering silently toward the back of the closet. He could have called out for help, his mom was right outside in the bedroom, but was simply too embarrassed.

He knew cardiac arrest in someone as young as him was very rare but not impossible. In this case the "not impossible" happened. Sinking back against the wall, his last conscious thought was how he never got to see "them", leaving him to die a very unhappy death.

15 minutes earlier . . .

Matthew walked casually into his parent's bedroom around three in the afternoon. His mom, Paula, was at work, and not due home for several hours while his dad, no worries there, he moved out roughly a week and half ago thanks to the trial separation his parents were trying on for size.

Horny and a little bored, Matthew decided to revisit his dad's porn collection. Thanks to a bit of prior sleuthing, Matthew knew his father kept his skin magazines buried deep on what was his former side of the closet in his mom and dad's bedroom.

Matthew entered his parent's room before ducking quickly inside the closet. Worried maybe his father took the skin magazines with him when he moved, he let out a small sigh of relief when he found the small stash, maybe a dozen or so magazines in all, of old Playboys and Penthouses.

After a quick search, he found a suitable partner in one of the Penthouses. She was a nice looking brunette, both buxom and mature, which just happened to be qualities Matthew found most irresistible in women.

Although he might have been loath to admit such a thing he tended to be attracted to women reminding him of his mother.

Paula was the epitome of mature motherly beauty with locks of chestnut-brown hair swooping down past her shoulders in a perfect wave of teased curls curtaining her lovely face.

Her lips were pouty and inviting, her complexion nearly flawless with a beauty which brought more than her fair share of long looks from the male of the species.

At 5' 8" and 131 pounds she possessed a body demanding even longer looks. The highlights of her heavenly body were a pair of long, muscular legs, along with a well sculptured ass. Her nearly flat washboard stomach contained only hints of fat on it thanks to a strict adherence to diet and exercise.

Paula's outer beauty was matched by an inner beauty reflecting itself in her warm and bubbly personality with a dazzling smile which would light up any room when she was happy.

In short, Paula had the personality of an angel, but the body of a devil, accented by her 36D inch bust.

It was this devilishly body of the Penthouse centerfold, so similar in many aspects to his mom's except her breasts were much larger than his mom's, which now had his cock at full mast while he stroked his way to jerk off heaven. And then disaster!

Just when he was maybe a good three or four strokes away from exploding, he heard someone enter the bedroom.

Dropping the Penthouse on the closet floor, he hurriedly stuffed his cock back inside his jeans--when he heard his mother start to hum.

Moving soundlessly to the front of the closet, he peeked out. His mother was sitting on the bed looking at her phone. She tended bar at one of the local watering holes and was dressed casually in a pair of snug jeans and tight purple top showing off all of her delicious curves in a most enticing manner.

"Christ," he muttered to himself, "of all days to knock off work early, you had to pick today."

He stared at her, it was almost thrilling watching her like this secretly while hoping and praying she would head into the master bedroom's attached bathroom to go potty, or change, or whatever, giving him a chance to sneak out of the bedroom undetected. One thing was for sure, he didn't want to have to explain what he was doing in her closet.

She sighed before tossing her phone aside and then--his heart started to race--she was tugging on the edge of her tight purple top, pulling it up.

"Holy shit," he whispered to himself. "She is getting undressed." He tried to look away but simply lacked the willpower, especially after being on the verge of a mighty orgasm just a minute or two ago.

Matthew's mouth went dry as his mother pulled the top up, revealing a sexy light pink lace bra underneath causing Matthew's heart to accelerate into the red zone.

The acceleration continued when he watched her start to undo her jeans after tossing the top causally aside.

Then yet another disaster. Matthew carelessly shifted his weight. The sound was just loud enough to give him away in the quiet afternoon stillness of the house or maybe it was just Paula's uncanny sixth sense of knowing when she was being looked at which sealed his fate.

She knew someone was in the closet. Was it her son? She had not seen him anywhere downstairs when she first entered the house, nor did he greet her, like he normally would have, when she got home from work, leading her to believe he was probably in his room taking an afternoon nap.

Paula suppressed a smile. Just the other day, shortly after her husband moved out of the house, Paula discovered his small stash of skin magazines. She thought of tossing them, but not wanting to be petty, she kept them, figuring she would wait to see how things turned out between them.

It was a day or two later when she noticed, she keep her closet ultra-neat while possessing an uncanny ability of knowing when something was disturbed in the slightest, the small stack of her husband's porn magazines sitting on the upper shelf on his side of the closet had been slightly moved.

After a moment of quiet reflection, it came to her--Matthew. Yes, he went snooping in her closet-- most likely when she was working one of her ten to six day shifts at the bar-- and discovered his father's porn collection.

And now he was in her closet, again, peeping at her as she undressed. She knew this as her highly attuned "Mom Rader" was virtually screaming it at her. Her first inclination, as she paused while undoing her jeans, was to make a scene but then again . . . why embarrass the poor boy. He was only doing what came natural to any eighteen year old red blooded American male.

Besides, she reasoned, it might be kind of fun to tease him a bit, especially since she knew he was quite naïve sexually thanks to an overabundance of shyness around girls.

Helping her decision to tease him a bit were the two cocktails she enjoyed at the bar during an impromptu birthday party for the manager that afternoon.

Feeling his eyes glued to her, Paula stood up and turned around, making a show of wriggling out of her tight jeans for his viewing pleasure.

Once she had the jeans off, she turned towards the closet. Giving her "not so secret" watcher a coy look, she reached around and started to undo her bra. She fully intended on just undoing it before striding off to the bathroom, but fate intervened in the form of her having a very naughty thought.

Hmm, maybe I should do a bit more than simply undoing my bra for him. Maybe I should start to slip it down and off my shoulders and then just before it would slip free exposing my breasts to him I'll turn around and then head off to the safety of the bathroom.

He watched as his mom undid her bra and then slowly, ever so slowly, she hooked a pair of fingers under the twin bra straps. Showing the patience of a saint, she then started to slide the straps off her shoulders.

Matthew yanked his cock free and was stroking it furiously while watching his mother carefully pull the straps across her shoulders and then down.

Just a few bare seconds before what he supposed would have been an absolutely gorgeous set of tits being revealed to his wide, staring eyes, the heart attack came. The intense shooting pain staggered him backwards before causing him to crumple to his knees.

He could have called for help, maybe, but his cock was out and he was watching her get undressed. Not a desirable option. His last conscious thought was one of bitter disappointment at not getting a chance to see his mom's bare breasts.

As he fell to the closet floor he still expected the pain would pass and everything would be OK, but the pain didn't pass and nothing was OK.

Paula turned, starting to walk away, an impish smile on her face when she heard a loud thump. It came from the closet and she knew, just knew, something was wrong. She hurriedly did up her bra as she fairly dashed across the bedroom.

She found him prone on the floor, passed out, with his jeans undone and the still open Penthouse magazine at his side on the floor. Dashing out of the closet, she called 9-1-1, but it was too late. He passed in route to the hospital.

Matthew was an only child and without him around anymore, Paula's trial separation quickly evolved into a divorce where she was granted her only real wish: the house.

The strange happenings started occurring within a few weeks of Matthew's death. At first, Paula tried to write it off as nerves, but as the weird occurrences continued past the first two months, and into a third month, Paula began to suspect maybe she was not alone.

The sort of things she was experiencing such as footsteps tromping around upstairs, knocks and other various noises coming from her closet, sounds of things being dropped, cabinets and cupboards opening and closing by themselves, did not actually feel threatening to her, but in reality were welcome. She missed her Matthew desperately and wanted to believe he was still there trying to interact with her.

After doing a bit of research, Paula came to believe she was the recipient of an "intelligent style haunting".

According to the book the spirit in these type of haunting can appear in human form, just as they were right before their death, and were responsive to the environment and any changes within. The book went on to say, much to Paula's excitement, the entities involved in an intelligent haunting were usually attached to a particular residence or building, or at times, even a certain person, although they are free to move around. They may have once lived in the residence and were now tied to the place because it's where they met with an unfortunate or traumatic death, such as a suicide, murder or accident.

Armed with what she learned so far, Paula decided to take the short trip to Wilksbury, where a certain old witch of some reputation throughout the tri county area was known to be the proprietor of a bookstore.

After walking into the dusty old bookstore and enjoying a pleasant conversation with a pretty young clerk, the proprietor's great, great granddaughter as it turned out, she was able to arrange a luncheon with Olga, the old witch herself, later on in the afternoon at a small café across the street.

Watching the old woman, she didn't look a day under ninety-nine, shuffle into the café, hunched over and leaning heavily on a cane, gave Paula hope.

Dressed in all black, with her snow white hair pulled back in a tight bun over a positively ancient and weathered face, complete with crooked nose and a cackle for a laugh which Paula found slightly amusing, Olga certainly looked the part of your textbook witch.

By the end of their meeting Paula was convinced the old woman was not just playing the role of a witch, but was a woman with great powers and a keen understanding of all things supernatural.

Over cups of tea, Olga reached, grasping Paula's hands, inviting her to tell her story. "Leave nothings out my dear, tell all to the Madame as she needs full, complete confession to all tings. Be brief but precise in details you tell Olga."

Paula cleared her throat. "Let's see, I came home from work, I was a bit tipsy, and went straight to my bedroom. I did not see my son--"

"Matthew that would be, hmm?"

"Yes, but wait, how do you know his name? I didn't tell you," a startled Paula responded.

"I glean much from yous when I grasped your hands my dear, including much guilt. Do tell all now."

By her sharp look, Paula understood she was not to question things further.

Sighing, she continued her story. "I was getting undressed when I suspected he was in my closet watching me. I think he was there looking for his dad's . . . ahh . . . porn magazines."

"As any eighteen year old boy worth a salt would be doing eh?" Olga said before cackling softly.

"Yes, I suppose," Paula replied, amazed Olga even knew her son's age. "So as I was getting undressed I had a feeling . . . A mother's intuition I guess . . ." Her voice trailed off as she paused once more. The confession she was about to make would be the first time she spoke aloud about the situation.

"Let me helps, Paula. I help story out for you when things get tough by asking pointed questions. You simply answer, truthfully, minds you, with a simple yes or no while remembering . . ." She raised her hand, waving a crooked finger in the air, "Olga always knows the stench of lies."

Paula nodded her head OK to the witch's proposal.

"Your mother's intuition told you he be watching?"

"Yes."

"Did you calls him out on it?"

"No . . . I wanted to teach him a lesson I guess about peeping so I continued to get undressed."

"Maybe wanted more than lesson Paula. Maybe you wanna tease the boy?"

Paula felt her face flushing red from the witch's wholly truthful accusation.

"Yes, I suppose. I had a couple drinks that afternoon. We had a birthday celebration at work. I work at a bar and when I came home I was feeling . . . hmm, frisky I guess."

"Tell more. Tell how it made you feel knowing he was watching."

"Confident . . . turned on. I'm not so young anymore. His father, God it is such a cliché, was having an affair at work with his young secretary."

"OK you be doing good but let Olga finish up for you. Easier that way I thinks. Tell me if I get it rights or not."

Before Paula could respond one way or the other, Olga was telling the rest of the story to an amazed Paula with uncanny accuracy.

"Boy watched mother, pretty mother, get undressed, likes her shape, naughty magazines had 'im already excited . . . maybe even quite hard."

The old lady paused to take a sip of her tea before continuing. "I sense your guilt, you spoke of mother's intuition. You knew, as you undressed for 'im he be watching. Thought of it excited you somes."

The old lady, the old witch that is, paused again, staring at Paula.

Paula, sensing she wanted confirmation, whispered, "I did."

"Ahh there be the guilt then. The rest be tragic. Boy got overexcited inside of closet and passed. Heart attack maybe. Guessing yous found out later his heart . . . no good."

"Yes the doctor's told me. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy I think is what they called it along with some other medical jargon. I barely heard them truthfully."

"So now we up to the present, where your Matthew being trying to contact you . . . or so you hopes."

"Yes. Can you help? I wanna . . . I don't know . . . apologize maybe. I need closure I guess."

"You free tonight. Olga come by just before dusk. Do séance. Talk to boy, see what he wants, what he needs, why he no move on."

Paula, leaping at the opportunity for contact with her son, scribbled her address down for Olga before leaving both excited and scared all at once about what might come of the séance.

The séance, held in her living room as they sat on the floor across from each other, holding hands, surrounded by dozens of flickering candles, was short and informative.

Although all Paula could see was a slight shimmering in the air next to the old lady, apparently Matthew came to Olga, where they shared a short, whispered conversation held too low for Paula to hear what they were saying.

When the séance was over they moved to the kitchen to discuss what Olga learned from her son.

"He be restless to see his mommy looking her best again. Much complaints he has about you letting yourself go after his death. No makeup you wear, lots of added weight, eating to allay your grief my dear. Quite common."

"Yes, I have been I suppose," Paula mumbled.

"One ting to remember. The dead is drawn to the beauty of the living my dear, so if you want to encourage more contact . . . hmm, you must work to get looking better and quickly as I sense his time on dis plane be growing short."

"By this plane what do you mean? So after death you--"

Olga interrupted with a wave of her hand. "No time for questions dear. Death be complicated much like life be. There be levels, or planes of existence past death. Too much to explain for this tired old woman . . . just trust Olga. His time be short here. So if you truly want your closure and give him peace we must act quickly."

"OK well, I can start wearing makeup again and start to diet and exercise more if you think it will help."

"Yes, please do, but diet and exercise take time your boy doesn't have. I have solution for dat but before I offer must see a few tings. Must see what the boy likes maybe. Please can you show Olga the closet where he passed?"

Paula took Olga upstairs to her bedroom, and after entering the closet together, pointed to the floor where she found him prone and dying.

"Was the magazine he looking at be out?" the witch inquired.

"Yes, I recall, it was laying on the floor next to him."

"Was magazine open to nice picture?"

Paula nodded her head yes.

"And you looked at picture? It's important . . . goes to what the boy likes."

"Yes I remember glancing at it. I threw it out but . . . I remember."

"Jealous? The truth Paula?"

"Honestly, I was."

"The woman in picture, if I was to guess, be mature, dark brunette hair like mommy, nice tan, shapely body . . . hmm maybe large, quite large even, breasts . . . bigger than yours."

"Yes, hers were a bit bigger, maybe quite a bit bigger, I don't know for sure. Like I said, I just glanced at the picture."

They headed out of the closet still talking.

"Hmm, I see . . . Husband had many magazines to choose from, many pictures for boy to choose but he takes that one . . . tells me what he like."

After they got settled back downstairs at the kitchen table, Olga pulled a pair of small vials out of a small burlap bag slung over her shoulder. One was blue and one was red.

"This help. Apply at night. The potion in the blue bottle apply to anywheres you put on extra weight last few months, thighs, stomach, butt . . . and da potion in the red bottle apply to your breasts."

"What will it do?" Paula asked.

"Make them bigger and firmer, like you so young again. Bigger even than the woman in girlie magazine so Mother needs not to be so jealous. And . . ." Instead of speaking, the witch held her crooked finger up for a long second.

"And what?" Paula asked finally.

"And son be drawn to mother's beauty like moth to flame. Remember what I say to be true. The dead are always drawn to the beauty of the living . . . especially if that beauty comes from a soft, loving mommy."

Paula looked at the bottles doubtfully. "This will really work."

"Hmm, Olga's magic potions powerful my dear. Aye they will work. We hold séance three days hence. Apply tonight, you see results in a day."

Paula followed the witch's instructions and found her magic to be all powerful. The extra twenty two pounds she added going back the last few months melted away -- like magic. Her measurements after taking the blue potion now were a mouthwatering 37-24-35 and her weight was down to 130 pounds. Her tummy, her thighs, and her ass were all nice and firm now, but that was actually nothing compared to the magic the potion in the red bottle did on her breasts.