The Haunting of DP Hall

I spun hurriedly in my mortification, desperate to escape the jeering horde. But I was off-balance in my unfamiliar high heels, teetering and plowing into an end table in my attempt to flee and dumping the contents of my cup down the front of my costume. The cheap white fabric of my top went transparent with wine, giving the party a clear view of my bra's black satin cups. An appreciative round of merry applause erupted in the room. I'd never known, but my breasts seemed to have garnered much attention among the department's male population.

I looked back at William, humiliated tears welling in my eyes, and recognized the barely restrained amusement in his expression. I turned and bolted from the scene, reeling across the dance floor and out the rear door to the quiet, fenced-in backyard. Alone outside, I settled into a chair and cupped my tear-streaked face in my hands, obscured from the party by a large holly bush.

My breathing stabilized, and although it was unseasonably warm for the end of October, I felt chilled through my wet top. I stared up into the dark, bright sky, wallowing in my embarrassment. As I sat alone, forming out of nowhere, a wall of thick, shimmering fog wafted into the yard.

I whipped my head around as the cloud closed in, bracing for a chill, but instead the air brought an inviting and exhilarating sensation as it folded around me. Somewhere in the bottomless fog, again I heard the familiar, lively plunking piano tune, riding on the breeze. An astonishing, warm squiggle of excitement seeped between my clenched legs, making my squirm. The party sounds from the house died away, as if pushed into the distance as I drifted in the sea of fog. As suddenly as it had appeared, the soupy veil dissipated and departed, showing the patio under the night's dazzling full moon.

Bright, clean moonlight bathed me in the empty yard, but the dreamy sense of euphoria and erotic ease remained, wrapping me like a blanket. Stealing a quick peek to confirm I was alone, I squeezed my legs tighter together, savoring the electrifying arousal. The sensual warmness coursing in my loins set in so suddenly that it almost felt paranormal, and that abruptness seemed to amplify the stimulating rush. As I squirmed in the chair, I closed my eyes and slowly ran my gloved fingertips along the ticklish flesh of my inner thigh. A flush raced across my face and chest as I reclined, my pulse thundered in my ears and my breath caught and shuddered in my throat at the rising naughty sensation.

I startled and stifled a yelp as actual fabric folded around my shoulders. I spun to confront the unnoticed interloper.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I hissed, twisting to find two boys standing on the patio where there had been only moonlit bricks before. They were younger than most guests at the party, maybe seniors, and clean-cut and handsome. Their hair -- one was blonde, the other brunette -- was neatly combed in a manner reminiscent of my father's yearbook photos. The brunette wore an old-fashioned, white letterman's sweater emblazoned with the red letters "F" and "U" of our university; the blonde wore a button-up shirt, having draped his sweater around my shoulders, making me jump.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, but you were shivering." The blonde's gentle tone made me feel comfortable and nostalgic. I let him wrap the garment around my shoulders as I settled back into my chair, calming myself and apologizing for my overreaction. "It's ok. We shouldn't have snuck up unannounced like that. My name is Bruce, and this is Roger."

"I'm Sarah, nice to meet you. And it's nice to see that there are still a few gentlemen." I took a deep breath, trying to restrain the persistent stimulation. "I really like your sweaters; looks like the three of us could come as a group, huh?" The boys exchanged a glance that I missed as I clumsily squeegeed wine out of my cleavage.

"Thank you, we're on the football team. I like your gloves. They're so elegant, they remind me of Mara Corday." I was amazed at how well Bruce was sticking to his retro character. He continued, "Say, we have some records back at our room. Would you want to come listen with us?"

I considered the campy invitation as both boys smiled at me hopefully. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at the house beyond the bush and the crappy party. I shook my head to clear away the unpleasantness and rose to my feet. As I rose, I tucked my arms through the sleeves of Bruce's sweater; the jersey extended almost to my knees, covering the hem of my skirt.

Both boys were much taller than me, but their manners and speech gave me an oddly familiar and safe feeling. It felt like we'd grown up together in another era. At the same time, warm tendrils of arousal continued to slink through my belly, sporadically stirring up titillating flocks of butterflies.

"If you don't mind my keeping your sweater for the walk, I'd love to hear some records. Do you guys have a house nearby?"

"We share a dorm room." Roger said, taking my gloved hand to steady me as I stood; my knees wobbled slightly, weakened by the infusion of wine.

"Oh, no way! I'm not going to walk all the way to West Campus." I told them as I stopped and pulled back slightly. "Even if it's not cold, that's just too far to walk in these heels." The boys stared at my four-inch stilettos like they were moon boots.

"West Campus?" Bruce reacted as if he'd never heard of it. "I promise our room's not far. Scout's honor!" He beamed at me, holding up his hand as he swore his oath. He gave the impression he might actually be a Boy Scout.

"If you say so, but if my feet hurt, I'm riding on your shoulders!" I led our group out the rear gate of the yard and into the alley without a glance back. The absence of party noise never registered for me.

We turned at the end of the block and headed up the street towards campus. The road was clear of traffic, and we walked down the center of the lane as a trio. As we strolled down the desolate moonlit street, a gust of wind chilled me through Bruce's sweater. I leaned into him seeking warmth but found his body strangely heatless.

The boys hadn't spoken since we left the patio, and as we reached the university grounds Bruce hooked his arm around my waist and steered me to the north end of the campus. We stopped in front of Duncan-Patrick Hall.

"Oh, that's so weird! I didn't realize these were open. How long have you guys lived here?" I said, my wine intake tilted me against Bruce, gathering his sweater tighter to my neck as I felt colder.

"That's funny." Roger beamed as he opened the door. "It feels like we've been here for ages."

Bruce ushered me into the entryway, and I beheld a scene unlike what I'd pictured of the supposedly long-abandoned space. Though it seemed decades outdated, the inside of the building appeared well lived-in in the faint light. The boys guided me to a dim stairwell and steadied me as we climbed to the top floor of the three-story building. We reached their room and Bruce passed me from his grip to Roger's as he unlocked the door. Roger's arms were equally chilly, but the door was quickly opened, and we entered their room.

Roger released his embrace to fumble for the light as we entered the room. I stepped into a scene straight out of an era I wish I'd been a part of. I delighted in posters for "Creature from the Black Lagoon", "Them!", and "War of the Worlds". Among their standard dorm-room furniture, I remarked that on top of a low shelf, instead of a television, sat a record player.

The dated room otherwise featured twin beds spaced a few feet apart perpendicular to the far wall, one with a large, flat trunk at its foot. An inexpensive, woven rug lay in the center of the room, and matching desks sat in a corner, neatly separated. Looking around the room, I half expected Ward Cleaver to walk through the door to warn us of the dangers of rock music.

Roger moved to the stereo, placing the needle to the record. "Do you like The Penguins?" he asked as soft notes filled the room.

"Oh my God! 'Earth Angel' is one of my favorites!" I gushed as I sat on the chest at the end of the bed. I watched Roger carefully hang his letter sweater over the back of a desk chair, and I removed Bruce's and neatly folded it on the trunk beside me. Roger sat next to me, as Bruce brought over the chair from his desk and sat in front of us. Realizing I was still wearing my faux horn rims, I removed the costume glasses and set them on the sweater beside me.

"On second thought," Bruce said, giving me a pretty blatant once-over, "would you care to dance?"

I blushed at the attention as I stood "Yes, I'd love to." I glanced back at Roger, still seated on the chest. "We can trade between songs. How does that sound, Roger?"

"Fine by me. We know how to share," the other boy winked as Bruce held my gloved hand and walked me a few steps towards to the center of the room. He looped his arms around my waist, and I locked my hands behind his neck as I leaned into his body. We rocked gently as the music filled the room, soothing me and lulling me deeper into that bewitching sense of intimate ease. And beneath that calm, there was that same naughty, eager stirring that was simultaneously unfamiliar and welcome. I rubbed my hand on the back of his neck, feeling his cool skin through the silky fabric of my gloves. My stomach twisted and bounced with wicked, alien hunger. I didn't understand the spell that had enveloped me, but I knew I loved getting lost in it. My sane world fell further away, entranced as my cheek lay on his shoulder.

"I have to thank you guys." I cooed into Bruce's chest as we swayed. "Tonight was just awful, but you saved my evening." I felt Roger arrive behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. My belly leapt again with a nervous delighted flutter that sank into my heated minge.

"It was our pleasure, but the night's not over." Roger said as he placed a kiss below my ear. The touch of his lips sent a cold shiver racing through my body. I gasped at the chill, but my murmur was cut off as Bruce covered my mouth with his own. His tongue flashed between my open lips, probing my mouth as I flicked my own tongue in response. My grasp on reality slipped further, drowning in a sensual daze.

Behind me, Roger's hands roamed my hips and back as he kissed down my neck to my bare shoulders. His fingers fumbled with the zipper of my top and failed to release the fastener. Instead he tore the zipper from the shoddy cloth, exposing my shiny black bra. Bruce pushed the top's straps off my arms and my blouse fell away, collecting at my waist where it was tucked into my skirt. My breasts rose and fell sumptuously atop my ribs, threatening to surge out of the satin cups.

Roger's busy fingers moved to the skirt's closure, but that cheap zipper jammed as well. He yanked impatiently and I heard a rip as the zipper stripped and the garment's waist released, allowing Roger to slide the skirt off my hips to the floor. Bruce's right hand pushed my gathered top and it joined my skirt in a heap on the rug. His left hand slipped under the shiny fabric of my bra to cup my swollen breast. I sucked in a sharp breath as the shock of his icy touch swept through my body, mixing with the thrill of the intimate contact. His other hand followed the smooth black band of my bra around my ribs to its rear clasps where he deftly plucked apart the hook-and-eye closure. Unfastened, the bra plunged to the floor, and Bruce's fingers clutched my swollen, bare mounds with boyish enthusiasm.

A small murmur of protest choked in my throat, as my rational mind registered how abruptly nude I had been rendered with these two. Bruce seemed to sense my unease, plunging his mouth deeper onto mine; his hands cupped my bare breasts and the stimulating spell of tranquility returned, as if the calming arousal emanated through his cold, kneading palms. Roger's hands swept across my hips to the twin globes of my ass, kneading the meat of my butt as his cool lips kissed sensitively between my shoulder blades.

Roger's kisses tracked down the length of my spine, squatting behind me as he gripped the waist of my delicate thong in both hands and tugged it from my hips. Lifting one foot, then the other, I stepped out of the flimsy panties, now completely naked except the bows on my neck and head, the checkerboard heels, and my shimmering gloves.

Still kissing Bruce, my fingers rose to his chest to undo the buttons of his shirt. Massaging my ass with one hand, Roger slipped his other hand between my legs, investigating the spreading wetness of my bare pussy. Although my mind was still playing catch-up, my loins were achingly ready. His astonishingly cool fingers twisted inside me; a sensual buzz draped my body. I whimpered and hastened my efforts at Bruce's shirt.

Impatient at my progress undressing him, Bruce unbuckled his own belt and unzipped his pants, letting them drop to his ankles. Taking the back of my head in his hand, he guided my face downwards, bending me at the waist until my mouth met the tip of his engorged cock. Even in this ungentlemanly gesture, the bewitching calm, horniness permeated my mind and body. I opened my lips and took his member into my mouth. I found the flesh of his dick as unusually tepid as the rest of him, but that thought was a fleeting one and I set to work on his erection.

My lips pursed and puckered around Bruce's rock-hard shaft. I ran my tongue along the veiny underside of his cock, smearing lubricating saliva along the length of his pole. The spellbinding heat in my loins had spread into all corners of my body. As his fingers locked at the back of my head and wound into the locks of my auburn hair, a grumbling, contented moan escaped me, squeezing out around his shaft as my mouth galloped up and back along his thick knob.

Roger's fingers spread my legs and cheeks apart, and I felt his cockhead part the drenched folds of my pussy. My moan rose to a delighted, muffled squeal as my snatch stretched and wrapped around Bruce's broad shaft. I couldn't remember ever getting so wet and ready so quickly, but his manhood glided smoothly into my oiled pussy. His strong, cool hands gripped me around my waist, steadying me as I struggled to balance on the unfamiliarly high heels.

As Roger found his rhythm, pumping his dick into my dripping sex, I still wobbled between the tall, male bookends despite his stabilizing grasp on my midsection. He pulled me to meet each of his thrusts, tugging my hips to catch the plunges of his cock and dig his tool deeper in to my trembling quim. At the same time, Bruce unrelentingly pushed his knob into my mouth, gripping the back of my head to force my hungry red lips deeper onto his throbbing manhood.

Thin rivulets of drool trickled from the corners of my plump lips as Bruce vigorously pounded his cock into my mouth. My round tits swayed and swung below my ribs, shuddering with every collision as Roger fucked my dripping pussy. My appreciative whining climbed with the pulsing pleasure in my gash, bubbling out frothy saliva over my lips and chin. Despite my balancing efforts, as my orgasmic sparks throbbed through my body, my strength failed, and my knees buckled.

I teetered on my towering heels and Bruce relented, yanking his spit-covered cock free from my mouth. I gasped for air, holding out my arms for balance. Roger also pulled out of me, bracing me with one chilly hand on my shoulder and the other on my waist. Encircling my midsection, he spun me by my waist, turning and moving our bodies together towards the trunk.

I went to my hands and knees on the weathered wooden lid of the chest, perpendicular to the bed. The toes of my high heels hung off one end with my head towards the other. Bruce arrived behind my round, pale ass, stepping in between my legs. He placed a steadying hand on my butt, then leaned forward and, with a soft grunt, slipped his cock through my wet pussy lips with one smooth thrust. I opened my mouth to groan in pleasure, but Roger stepped forward and filled my mouth with his own rigid dick. The fragrant taste of my own cum and juices wafted down my throat off his sticky shaft.

Flattening my palms on the trunk, I rocked back and forth, servicing the rock-hard erections at both ends. Kneeling on the flat surface, I had gained some control and was able to establish my own rhythm. My mouth busily slurped and purred along Roger's shaft, my red lips curled into a one-color rainbow around his thick pole. Bruce's cock feverishly rammed my wet cunny. I pushed my ass into his hips to meet each thrust, eagerly punching his prick deeper into my pussy.

While the two unfamiliar cocks pumped my willing mouth and cunt, my rational mind breached my hypersexual trance for a second. This was not normal behavior for me; like I was charmed by some force outside myself. It felt like I was watching a movie, with someone else cast in my role. Whether it was in my head or from the record player, "Earth Angel" swelled again, and my supernatural lust surged. I hummed merrily around the foreign dick in my mouth while the second cock hammered away at my excited slit.

My pussy succumbed to the thrill of my double-team, my pleasured moans rising into passionate howls. As my volume built, Roger pulled me by the back of my head until his cock jammed into the back of my throat, muffling my cries. At the same time Bruce hauled himself forward by my hips, forcing his own manhood as deep into my pussy as it would fit. I screamed in ecstasy around Roger's dick, spit-roasted to the maximum allowed by my little body.

Tugging his glistening prick from my ruby lips while my orgasm was still fading, Roger sat in the chair facing the chest and bed. Bruce's chilled hand rested on the small of my back as he pulled his tool out of me, then pushed me towards Roger's chair. I stood, unsteadily strode the three steps to Roger, then straddled him, hovering above his waving, slobbery erection. Slowly squatting into his lap, my buttered puss spread easily again to accept his erection. With my feet solidly planted, I hinged my knees, riding and pumping his shaft with my slickened pussy. My ripe tits were pushed over his face as I wrapped my arms around the chairback to steady myself as I rode his cock; Roger didn't complain.

Bruce emerged next to our chair. "Give him a proper kiss," he said, holding out his throbbing dick. I leaned over from Roger's saddle and enthusiastically took Bruce into my mouth. With the rod satisfactorily slobbered, Bruce stepped to my rear and placed a hand on my back to push me forward onto Roger.

My ass popped up as he hunched my shoulders forward, and that was all the invitation that Bruce needed. Pushing ahead with his hips, his spit-slicked cock pushed open my anus, breaking the seal on my airtight pucker as his head passed through. I was too shocked to scream, croaking hoarsely. Worried there might be more noise on the way, Bruce handed something to Roger.

"Hush her up with this." Roger's hand pressed soft fabric into my open, rasping maw. As the cloth packed my mouth, I recognized its texture as my own silk thong. The realization did little to distract me from the buzz of my dual penetration. As both of my holes stretched around the thick cocks pumping and jostling inside of me, I squealed and panted through the mouthful of panties. My enjoyment didn't go unnoticed.

"She likes it!" Roger hooted; both of his hands were filled to the brim with my lively tits.

"They always do!" Bruce was working harder, fucking me in my ass from his standing position, and was slightly out of breath. Still he hammered at my rosebud, exhilarating me in tandem with his friend's cock thumping my pussy. Roger's hands and mouth on my tits were like an electric current crawling over my body. I whined and squawked through the panties crammed in my mouth, the decibels of my cries increasing despite the silken padding.