Welcome to Hart House Pt. 02

This is the second instalment of my sexy haunted house story. For context I suggest starting with Chapter One.

I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter Two

I had no real way of telling how long I slept there in that strange room in that strange house. It was black darkness when I collapsed into the bed and faded away into nothingness, and it was still dark when I woke.

I rubbed my eyes, confused. It took me some moments to remember where I was. I did not recognize the bed I was in, nor the pajamas I was wearing. I looked around baffled until the memories of the night before flooded in.

They were impossible to believe. A see through woman fucking me. A hallway that seemed to never end. A sexy maid with my cock in her mouth, an old man's cock in her cunt, the two of us men cumming simultaneously. It was like a disturbing sex dream.

By the time I had pulled myself out of bed into the dark room I had half convinced myself it had all been strange dreams. I must have, I thought to myself, fallen asleep, chilled and wet from the walk in the rain and fallen into some kind of fever sleep. My sickness fueled my strange dreams.

I stood and shivered. The room was cold, the floor felt like ice under my feet. I noticed some slippers under the bed and pushed my feet into them. I also saw a dressing gown hanging off the end of the bed and pulled it over my shoulders. I crossed over to the window that was currently covered by thick, dark crimson velvet curtains. I pulled them aside and peered outside, hoping to see sunny skies.

I was disappointed.

The sky, while lighter than it had been in the depths of the night, was still dark, thick clouds pouring rain down onto the mountainside forest outside of my window. The storm had not let up at all and had, in fact, somehow worsened.

I sighed. This was less than ideal. My trip to the west was going to be further delayed. I looked at my phone and saw that I still had no bars so no contact with the outside world or my wife.

The thought of her made me wince, remembering what had transpired the night before. I shook my head. It had not really happened anyway, I tried to convince myself.

I realized that I was hungry. No matter how strange this house was I needed to get myself some breakfast. Then I would find the handyman that NicolasC the decrepit old butler had promised would help me with my car.

I went to open the door to my bedroom and was relieved that it opened easily. This made me more confident that the strange things from the night before, the door that wouldn't open while I was being sexually attacked by a ghost, did not actually happen.

Still, my ankle was sore and slightly swollen, so I guessed that while some of the night before was imagined, the trip on the stairs had actually happened. But, I figured, it had been my clumsiness and not some malevolent specter that had caused the accident.

The hall was much like I remembered from the previous night. Lanterns lined it, burning kerosene. The power, I supposed, must still be out.

I walked towards the back of the building like the night before. The paintings still became progressively more risqué as I went down the hall, just like I remembered, but the passage did not play it's fun house games. As I walked I was able to reach the end. I unclenched fists that I didn't realize that I had formed my hands into.

The stairs at the end led down and no ghost tried to push me. I saw that the stairs led downwards, into a basement, I supposed. The thought of a dark cellar under this creepy old house made me shiver and I quickly pushed into the kitchen.

I was met by the warmth of a working kitchen with the smell of cooking bacon and brewing coffee. I smiled at that, the most friendly sensation I had felt since arriving at Hart House.

At first I did not notice anyone else around but the sound of a pan banging into the stove made me look over in that direction. There was a woman working at the stove, frying eggs and bacon. She had not seemed to notice me yet so I took a moment to watch her.

Part of me was slightly disappointed to see that it was not Annabelle, the sexy maid who, in my dreams, I had face fucked while the old man, Nicolas, had used her cunt. Annabelle oozed sex. Her breasts were pert and full, spilling out of top, her stomach trim and her ass was a lovely handful. This woman, however, was not so bad to look at either.

I would have guessed her age at 27-35. Obviously not as young as Annabelle, but she had taken care of herself. Her long, brown hair was pulled up on top of her head in a loose bun, a few strands hanging down onto her sweaty brow. She wore a simple blouse, enough buttons undone to show some cleavage, but not so much that someone would call it risque, and a knee length black skirt. Over this all a white apron that, other than a few food splatters, looked clean.

Her face was roundish, with full, lipstick-free lips, brown eyes and long dark lashes. It was not a face that would turn a head in a crowd but it was pleasant to look at. She was curvy. She had a full bosom that moved under the blouse and apron, making it clear to me that she was not wearing a bra. Her waist was not the most trim, but with her largish ass, it formed a nice hourglass shape, hugged by the fabric of her skirt. She was shorter than me, the top of her head coming up to about my nose, I estimated from across the room.

Finally she seemed to sense that I was looking at her and she looked up at me. Her face broke into a smile and she reached over the coffee urn, warming on the stove top.

"Come in," she called, her voice holding a slight southern twang. "Come in and sit down here. I heard we had a new gentleman guest and I was just here hoping that he would come down and get some coffee and here you are! Strange things! Come sit! What's your name? Mine is Tracy. Sit. Sit!"

Her words tumbled out in a lilting string, the southern twang reminding me of water babbling over rocks in a shallow stream. It was the first really welcoming thing I heard since arriving at Hart House and it made me smile.

I crossed the warm kitchen to the table, briefly remembering my dream and Annabelle's mouth wrapped around my cock, eyes begging me to cum in her, and sat in the same place as the night before. The memory alone was enough to start to awaken desire in me and i was glad that I had both the dressing gown and the table over my lap to keep me from being embarrassed.

"Good morning," I said. "I'm Drew. It's nice to meet you. Thank you for the coffee." I took a sip and the dark liquid warmed me from the inside. It was really very good and I told Tracy that.

"Well," she said, grinning. "I thank you for that, sugar. I do pride myself on making a good pot of coffee. I grind the beans myself. The mistress does like her coffee and she taught me herself how she wanted it brewed."

She made a plate of breakfast food and brought it over to me, placing it down in front of me. The smells of bacon and toast made my stomach rumble and I glanced up to thank her. As my eyes swung up I could not help but have them linger on the cleavage on display. The dark channel between her full breasts pulled at my eyes and attention. Visions of me tearing the blouse open flooded my mind. In my imagination I scooped her breasts out of the top, freeing them from their confines, revealing what I assumed to be brownish nipples that I would pinch and tug on. In my mind I squeezed the breasts together, spat on her cleavage and began to slide my hard cock between...

I shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her chest, looking up sheepishly, embarrassed of myself. I was far too old to be thinking like a rutting teenager, and far too married to be entertaining these ideas. Tracy, however, did not seem to notice, or if she did, she did not seem to mind.

Tracy sat down beside me and placed her elbow on the table, resting her cheek on her cupped hand and watched me shovel a first bite of food into my mouth.

"So," she said, "I hear you had some trouble in the storm last night? That's too bad, sugar. I know these mountain storms can get pretty awful. In fact, its still going right now, if you can believe it."

"Yeah," I said. "It was pretty intense. I'm just glad that this house was not too far from where I broke down. And that you guys were nice enough to let me stay. Not sure what I would have been otherwise."

I took another bite, then continued. "Actually, I would love to thank... What was her name again? The owner of the house? I know that Nicolas told me..."

"Oh," Tracy said. "That's Miss Elisabeth. Elisabeth Hart. I don't..." she paused, "I doubt you will get the chance to meet her. She's... an odd one, Miss Elisabeth. She doesn't leave her room much. No matter how long you stay, I don't suppose you will meet her."

I shook my head.

"Ah. I'm not going to be staying. Nicolas said that he was going to get the...groundskeepet? To help me? Get my car up and running. Or if your phones are working..."

"No, sugar," Tracy said, smiling in a way that seemed slightly sad for some reason. "The phones are still down. They won't fix the darn things for days. Weeks maybe. They don't seem to make our lonely house much of a priority."

I sighed, frustrated. I needed to get back on the road.

"Ok. That's too bad," I said. "Still. This handyman? Any idea where he might be?"

Tracy laughed.

"I think you mean She," she said. "Our groundskeeper is a woman. Her name is Pat."

I smiled ruefully.

"Sorry," I said. "I guess that was a pretty sexist assumption. So. Pat. The female groundskeeper. Any idea where she is?"

Tracy was still smiling and seemed to shift closer along the bench towards me. She put her hand on my leg, rather high up on my thigh, making me blink. My cock, which had swelled looking at her breasts earlier, had mostly subsided at this point. The touch, however, brought it back to life.

"Oh," she said. "I'm not too worried about something being sexist. I'm more...traditional about men's and women's roles. I believe that a woman should cook and clean for her man."

Her hand was sliding up my thigh as she spoke. I swallowed but felt frozen in place under her touch.

"The woman's place," she continued, "is to take care of all her man's needs."

Tracy was looking me in the eyes, speaking with a low voice as her fingers brushed my hard cock, then gripped it on the outside of my pajama pants.

"I feel," she said, her free hand raising up and unbuttoning first one then another of her blouse buttons. She began to stroke me, sliding the fabric of my pajamas along the length of my cock. "Most comfortable with a man's cock in my ass, hearing him call me a slut, after I have cooked him a good meal and provided him an orderly home. Isn't that what you want, sugar?"

I swallowed past the lump that had formed in my throat. This was definitely not what I looked for in a woman. My wife and I had a very equal relationship, where we shared many of the household duties. I did most of the cooking, for example. Still... the idea of a woman who was there to serve me... My cock twitched in her hand.

Tracy undid more buttons and reached in her blouse, pulling out one of her breasts, cupping the ample globe in her hand, lifting it, as if weighing the soft flesh. My eyes were locked on the pink nipple, standing hard, begging to be pinched, sucked, nibbled on. I raised my hand slowly and placed it on her flesh, feeling the nub press against my palm.

Tracy smiled and moaned quietly.

"Yes," she said. "I think you like that idea." She popped the button on my pajama fly, reached in and pulled my cock out. The rod stood hard and proud out of the slit in the fabric, the head half-hooded with my foreskin, a glisten of pre-cum on the tip. She gripped again and began to stroke, the hood sliding across the purple head.

My fingers found her nipple and rolled it between them, Tracy responding with an intake of breath that turned into a whimper when I pinched and pulled. My other hand pushed between her thighs, pushing up towards her sex. She smiled and spread her legs apart, allowing me access to what I could already feel was hot and wet.

"Will you," she asked, slowly stroking my cock, "shove this thing in my ass? Will you make me cry as you fuck me as hard as you can? Will you call me slut?"

Her voice was low and hoarse and it almost felt like she was hypnotising me. I looked into her eyes and groaned quietly from the pleasure of her hand. My fingers, which continued to push up her thigh found her sex, uncovered by panties and brushed the lips of her pussy. She sighed and spread her legs even more.

I ran the tip of my finger through her folds, parting them, sliding along the already slick flesh to find her engorged clit. I pressed against it, rubbing and Tracy moaned.

"Please sir," she said her bare chest heaving, a pretty red blush having spread across it, down her breasts and up her neck. "Please fuck my ass. I neeeeed it."

I stood up, Tracy keeping her grip on my cock for a moment.

"Stand up," I said. "Turn around. Lean forward." With my wife at home I was rarely demanding while we made love, but here, in this strange house, with this woman who seemed to need it, I felt the urge to take control.

Tracy grinned and did as she was told, releasing my cock, standing and leaning forward onto the table, her full breasts dangling onto the surface, propping herself up on her elbows. I grabbed her skirts and flipped them up, revealing her bare ass and pussy. I could see the wet glisten of her ready sex inviting me. That, however, was not my goal right now.

I moved behind her, my thick cock in my fist, hard and hot, ready to penetrate her. I stepped forward until the tip brushed against her cunt. Tracy moaned and tried to move backwards, pushing against me. I lay my hand on the flat space of her back, just above her heart shaped ass, holding her in place. I released my cock, and spurred on by some primal instinct I raised my hand and brought it down in a hard slap on her right ass cheek.

Her flesh jiggled from the impact, a beautiful ripple of flesh radiating out from my hand. Tracy yelped, then moaned, jutting her ass up, as if inviting another strike. I could see a bright red hand shaped welt already forming on her ass, so I hauled back and hit her again, this time on the other cheek, causing her to cry out again.

"Oh!" she cried. "Yes! Please! I need that!"

I gritted my teeth and snarled.

"Shut up," I said. "You can talk when I tell you to."

I spanked her for a few minutes more, striking her ass cheeks again and again, making them bright red from the abuse. I could feel heat radiating off of her well-spanked ass. I could see her juices dripping down the inside of her thighs as her body reacted to the strikes.

Finally I gripped my cock at the base and, without warning, lined the swollen purple tip against her cunt and shoved forward, sinking all the way into her with one hard thrust. Tracy cried out and arched her back, her upper torso raising off of the table. I grabbed a fist-full of her hair and shoved her forward, pressing her breasts back down onto the surface. I pulled back, then slammed forwards again, making her shout again.

I pulled my cock out of her and she whimpered with disappointment.

"Spread your cheeks," I demanded. "Show me what you want."

Tracy still did not speak but reached around behind her with both hands, gripped her full ass cheeks and pulled them apart. I was greeting with the lovely view of her pussy parting open from the action, as well as the brownish star of her asshole, dry but inviting. I ran my cock, slick with her pussy juices across her other opening, pushing my cock into her cunt again to get more to spread.

Finally I spat a thick wad of spit between her cheeks and placed the head of my cock against her ass.

"You can talk now, Tracy," I said. "Tell me what you want."

"Please sir," she gasped. "Fuck my ass. Please!"

On the last word, I pushed forward, watching my cockhead part the star and, with the lube from her pussy and my spit, begin to sink in. It was almost painfully tight the way that my foreskin was pulled back. I was not gente but, still, only the first inch or so of my cock made it into her ass.

I pulled back and shoved forward again, sinking deeper. She was almost impossibly tight, her hot ass passage gripping me like a vice. Again I pulled back and shoved forward. And again. Each forward thrust allowed me to penetrate her deeper that the one before it. Eventually I had forced my entire cock into her.

"Oh fuck," she groaned. "Thats good. Thats so good, don't stop fucking my ass, sir, please, don't stop."

I had no intention of stopping before I had used her this way to my full contentment. It was tight and hot and I was like an animal. I slammed myself into her ass again and again, the thrusts slapping her thighs into the edge of the table, dragging her back and forth across the surface.

I had one hand gripping her thigh, using it as leverage to thrust into her hard as I could. The other gripped her hair, pulling her back, arching her back. I saw her hand move to between her legs and saw that she was rubbing her clit furiously as I fucked her. She was moaning and crying out, begging for more, begging for me to fuck her harder, begging me not to stop.

"Oh, fuck," she shouted. "Oh fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm cummmmminnnnnngggggg!" Her body was quaking and trashing beneath me as I relentlessly fucked her. She came at least once more, it was hard to tell because now she was just crying out, losing for the moment her words, before I could feel my own climax coming on.

"I'm close," I grunted. "So fucking close."

"Oh," she gasped. "Cum in me please, sir! Cum in my ass!"

Her asshole was so tight that I was losing my ability to put off my orgasm. I released her hair and gripped her hips with both hands, slamming into her as hard and fast as I could. My hips slapped into her ass causing ripples with each thrust. I was grunting through gritted teeth, chasing my climax.

Finally I felt myself tip over the edge, my balls tightening, my cock swelling, then I released, spraying hot cum directly into her ass, my back arched, cock completely buried in her. I held her there, shooting again and again into her. She moaned and quivered as she came once more from the sensation.

I fell forward, almost collapsing onto her back, gasping for breath as my cock twitched inside of her. Finally I straightend up and stepped back, watching the star of her ass pull back as I pulled myself out of her, as if it was trying to keep me inside of her.

I watched a trickle of my cum leak out of her ass, a string of it connecting the tip of my cock to her for a moment before it broke.

"Shit," I said, suddenly thinking about my wife at home, probably worried sick that she had not heard from me yet. A heavy weight of guilt hitting me, realizing that, even if last night had been some fever dream, I had, in the gloomy light of this day, truly betrayed her. "Fuck. I'm sorry... Shit... I shouldn't have done..."

Tracy rolled to the side a bit and looked at me over her shoulder.

"What?" she asked. "That was amazing. I hope you do it again, sugar."

She stood up, smoothing her skirt down and pushing her full tits back into her top, buttoning her blouse.

"It's..." I said, trying to explain myself. "It's... I mean, It was fun, but... I shouldn't have done..." I shook my head. "I mean... Nevermind. Where can I find...What was her name? The groundskeeper?"

Tracy smiled.

"Oh," she joked, "are you planning on fucking her too?" She ignored my quickly shaking head. "Oh, don't you worry about that. I think she could use a good fuck. Anyway, I'm not rightly sure. Nicolas might know. He's probably in his office down the hall."