22 comments/ 137049 views/ 19 favorites Settling In By: shapeshifter37 Lisa paused to run a damp hand across an even damper brow, pushing back an errant strand of medium length dark brown hair that had fallen into her face. It was early fall and the temperature was only hovering in the upper sixties, but you wouldn't have known it to look at her. Her white cotton T-shirt was moist with perspiration and even the navy sweatpants she wore had a certain clinginess to them that spoke of her exertions. Her "housework" clothes, as she called them, were certainly earning their name. Of course, this was no typical housework day. Lisa glared at her husband in mock ferocity as he came through the door with another two boxes balanced precariously in his hands. "Some way to spend a Saturday," she groused half-seriously as she stretched the sore muscles in her petite legs and arms. She could feel every one individually and briefly thought about trying to count them. On second thought, she reconsidered, it was just too much work. John looked at Lisa and shrugged helplessly. Married six years, he still thought of her as his bride. Perhaps it was because her natural good looks didn't seem to have aged much in the years since the wedding, even though she was closer now to 35 than she was to 30. Then again, it could also be the condition she kept herself in as well. Due to careful eating, regular exercise, and fortunate genetics, her lithe frame was as trim as the day they had met, from her slender, toned legs to the firm 34B breasts that upon her diminutive frame seemed bigger than their measurement alone implied. But as slender and athletic as she was, and even at a mere 5'2" tall, no one would ever think of the determined brunette as 'small'. "It'll all turn out for the best," he tried to reassure her as he had so many times before. And of course they had been over it again and again, debating the pros and cons before undertaking this move. After all, picking up in California and moving all the way across the country to the suburbs surrounding Baltimore, Maryland had been a huge decision. But as it turned out, the opportunity was simply too good to walk away from. John's new position as the vice president of operations for a regional bank brought a significant pay increase, and at the same time, their cost of living would go well down from the astronomical prices of their native San Francisco. Lisa had in fact decided to take a few months off before starting a serious job hunt of her own. For years she had been highly successful in corporate equipment leasing and the burnout rate was quite high. A little time off would give her the chance to settle in and get to know the area better. She looked around the hollow shell of their new home - the first time they had ever owned - fruitlessly searching for some piece of furniture to rest her weary body upon. As good as John's job was, one of the biggest stumbling blocks they had needed to overcome was that it did not cover relocation costs. In fact, he had barely made the cut because the company had really been looking for a local candidate. It was only their last minute decision to do the move themselves that had clinched the deal. Professional movers had quoted them nearly ten thousand dollars for the cross-country move. Finally, she slid down to the floor and leaned her back against a less-than-comfortable wall. Withdrawing a pack of cigarettes and lighter from her purse, she put one between her lips and touched a flame to the tip until it glowed orange. Closing her eyes, she took a long drag and let some of the tension escape with her rich exhale. John watched in silence for a few moments as his wife relaxed and smoked, then finally shook off his temporary reverie. Back to work, he admonished himself and headed back to the truck they had rented for the move. ********** It was much later that night before they finally felt somewhat entrenched in the new setting. Although the work was far from complete, they had at least managed to set up the bed and find sheets for it, as well as towels and a shower curtain. Lisa was yawning and looking at her left hand in frustration as John emerged from the bathroom rubbing a towel roughly over his head. "What's wrong, babe?" he asked upon seeing her expression. "It's my ring," she groused, pointing to her engagement ring. "The fucking stone is loose - I probably snagged the posts on something unpacking. I'm afraid it will fall out." Though not particularly large, since John had proposed to her while still a junior loan officer so long ago, her diamond was a respectable three-quarter carat stone that would be a major shame to lose. John took a look and saw that she was indeed correct. There was a perceptible wobble in the gem's setting. "Look, why don't you take it off for now, for safe keeping. You can find a jeweler to fix it on Monday, okay?" She nodded and pulled it off, setting it in a glass beside the bed. Than, yawning again, she turned off the light and slid under the covers. "I'm awfully tired," she whispered in the dark. "Me too," he agreed quietly. Suddenly she felt his hand creeping up her thigh and bumping into her arm that was simultaneously slinking under the covers past his stomach. "Very, very sleepy," she whispered, turning her head towards his face. "Exhausted," he echoed as his index finger found the slick outer perimeter of her vaginal lips. She gasped softly as he dipped it inside of her and smeared her viscous juices around her clit before rubbing it gently. About that time her creeping hand located the hard cock that was now tenting the blankets above them. She stretched her neck towards his face and felt their lips connect, tongues probing insistently into one another's mouths. Their breathing quickened as he diddled her pussy and she stroked his dick with a tightly clenched fist. They masturbated each other for several breathless minutes before he finally spoke. "You want to just do it like this...?" he ventured. "Fuck no," she said throatily. In a smooth motion, she swung one leg over his hips and rolled her body on top of his. With the rich stream of cunt fluids now coating her entire pubic region, it was no effort at all for her to angle herself and let his cock fill her up. She sat up, casting aside the blankets, and pulling her nightshirt over her shoulders so that her husband could put his hands on her pert naked breasts. Soon their mingled moans were echoing from the walls of their new bedroom as they fucked, spreading the scent of their sex to fill the air. John knew every inch of his wife's body and expertly played her nipples to bring her to a pair of intense orgasms as she rocked up and down on his erect shaft. Finally, as she leaned in and dangled her breasts in his face, a feat that took a good deal of angling and head tilting given their difference in height, John felt his testicles swell with impending eruption. Lisa concentrated intently on the pulses of John's prick as it spewed foamy white semen deep into her cunt. For some reason the simple feeling of a man coming inside of her had always driven her wild although she could never explain it. John didn't know that one prerequisite of sex for most of her old boyfriends had been to provide a clean bill of health so that they could immediately dispense with condoms, since she had first begun using birth control pills. The effect was no different tonight, and at the first splash of her husband's warm ejaculate, she felt her twat clench up in the familiar sensations of a powerful climax. ********** Lisa was on a mission. She took a moment at the stoplight to glance at the map on the seat next to her and took a pull from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out through the car window. The suburb they had moved to was a nice middle class neighborhood and didn't seem to have much of a commercial district. Now she was in what appeared to be one of those towns where retail gathered like a flock of vultures along the roadside. Still, she didn't trust mall jewelers as far as she could throw them, so the next best bet was driving around until she saw a place that didn't look too seedy. Eventually she spotted a standalone storefront that was tastefully lettered and had a well-maintained exterior. She swung the car, a practical, navy Honda Accord, into the parking lot and parked near the front door, noting that there was only one other car in the lot. She took a quick glance at herself in the rear view mirror to assess her appearance - she was wearing a simple but attractive outfit that consisted of a basic, flowing white blouse, open at the neck, and a knee length tan skirt with low heels. After touching up her mocha lipstick, she decided that everything looked to be in place and opened her car door. Taking a long last drag from her cigarette, she dropped it beneath a heel and headed for the entrance of the store. As she stepped inside, she noted immediately that the air conditioning was several degrees cooler than the low seventies air outside, and felt her nipples tighten and press against her thin demi-bra firmly. She took a self-conscious look at her chest and noted the obvious bumps through her top and chided herself silently for not wearing a more concealing bra before going out. Almost immediately, a dark-skinned man appeared from a back room and grinned at her with a gleaming set of white teeth. Must be a chime on the door that rings in the back, she thought to herself idly as she sized him up for a moment. He was extremely attractive, she decided instantly, dressed in a very well tailored suit and immaculately groomed. She couldn't quite decide if he was black or South American, since his features seemed to be somewhere in between them and she decided he must have been of mixed heritage. "Welcome to my store," he greeted her in a richly timbered voice that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "I am Carlo. How may I be of service?" Lisa found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Not only did Carlo's appearance and demeanor give off a powerful, sophisticated sex appeal, but also she instantly felt his gaze upon her like a hot floodlight, tingling her nerve endings. He was discreet and polite about it, but she distinctly felt his eyes flicker from her face to her chest, ass, legs, and then the space between her legs, before resting upon her face again as a slight approving smile formed on his lips. It happened so quickly that she could hardly be certain that she had seen anything, yet she felt as foolishly giddy as a teenage girl. Finally she found her voice and spoke, striding confidently towards him. If she couldn't feel like a woman inside, she could at least act like one on the outside, she told herself firmly. "Good morning. I think I damaged my engagement ring the other day when my husband and I were moving boxes." She reached into her purse and withdrew a small box inside which the ring lay. She also would have sworn a brief shadow crossed his face when she mentioned her husband, and another tingle of excitement stirred within her. "Please, show it to me," he urged her, reaching beneath the counter to bring forth a white mat and drawing a jeweler's loupe from a breast pocket. He held forth a hand and waited for her to set the ring in his palm, allowing his fingers to briefly touch hers. He held up the ring and studied it for a moment, examining the condition of the white gold prongs as well as the general quality of the stone itself. Lisa noted him purse his lips as he perused the diamond, but he said nothing. Finally, he looked up at her. Handing her the loupe, he held forth the ring and pointed to one prong, indicating that she should look. "Here - you see?" he said softly. Lisa shook her head slightly, missing the objective. "Come closer," he urged her. She leaned over the glass counter until her nose was only a few inches from his hand. Finally she got the angle right and was able to discern a line crossing one of the prongs. "Oh..." she murmured in recognition. Then a flush of warmth went through her as she caught his gaze rise and she felt her blouse hanging loosely from her chest. He's looking down my top, she thought in shock. "It is cracked, you see? This is why the stone is loose. I can fix this for you, but I will need to replace the entire head of the band where it is set here," he explained, pointing to the joint. "Wait one moment - let me check my materials in the back." Without further ado, he disappeared through a door behind the counter. Lisa felt slightly feverish and became aware of a surprising moistness in her panties. She had been faithful to her husband since the day they had met, even to the point of breaking things off with another suitor after their first date. But something about Carlo excited her. Perhaps it was simply the inherent pleasure of having a sexy man very obviously find her desirable. Whatever the reason, she surprised herself by releasing the top button of her blouse. She rationalized that it was just a little harmless flirting and that even though the creamy tops of her breasts and the lacy edge of her bra were now partially visible, it was still less revealing than what many women wore on the street every day. Still, a part of her felt guilty almost immediately and she was on the verge of redoing the button when he emerged and blocked the opportunity. "Yes, I can have this done for you by Wednesday? Is this good for you?" She nodded. "That will be wonderful." Relief flowed instantly through her veins, as having the ring damaged had been quite a concern for her. "You would like to view my selection while you are here today?" he inquired. "Perhaps to try on a piece or two?" She noted with an inner smile that he seemed to be having a harder time keeping his eyes from her chest now. Her womanly instincts took over and she easily slipped into the role of seductress - all in good fun and games, she reminded herself. She spent several minutes moving from display case to display case, admiring the jewelry. Carlo had a fabulous selection, and all of the pieces were tasteful and artistic. At each stop she made sure to bend over, for a closer look of course, letting her breasts dangle into the cups of her bra, and knowing that he could see the flesh. She also let him hang no less than three different necklaces upon her, their gemstones falling lightly between her cleavage. After several minutes of these games, she found herself suddenly aware that she could see through the back of the glass cases and noted the unmistakable outline of his cock straining within his dress pants. She wondered immediately how he could ever have confined such a magnificent prick in anything but baggy jeans; even concealed as it was, his cock was clearly far above average size, far larger than anything she had ever personally seen. She finally became aware of a long silence that had developed as she not so subtly checked out his dick while he feasted his eyes upon her body. She licked her lips nervously and decided to call it an experience and get moving. "Great, so, um, I'll be in Wednesday morning for the ring then," she announced. His smile spoke volumes as she turned and hurried out. "Christ," she swore as she sat down in her car and lit a cigarette. She blew out a stream of smoke in a rush, and then took another hard drag, feeling a faint trickle of dampness escape her saturated panties and stain her tan skirt. "What the fuck was that?" ********** For the entire drive home, Lisa found it difficult to think of anything but her encounter with the handsome jeweler. She finally had to admit to herself that she was extremely aroused, and quite attracted to him. Since her husband would be at work all afternoon, and she was supposed to continue unpacking and working on settling their belongings in the new home, she thought she would try to take her mind off of it with some good, honest work. However, after ten minutes of aimless shuffling, she decided there was only one box that interested her at the moment. Fortunately, since they had labeled every box by the room it belonged in, finding the stash of "bedroom" boxes was easy, and the one she sought was fairly small. Inside was their stash of sexual aids: adult videos, toys, and even a pair of fuzzy handcuffs that had once long ago been a gag gift. But what she wanted at that moment was a nice thick vibrator nicknamed "the rabbit". Lisa lay down on the bed and pulled off her skirt and panties. The aroma of her aroused crotch filled the air rapidly. She didn't bother with easing into things, instead simply turning the vibrator to its highest speed setting, moistening it by wiping her hand through her pubic region and stroking it a few times, and then pushing it fully inside of herself. This model had both internal vibrations as well as a clit stimulator, and soon she was approaching the first of a series of powerful orgasms. Unsurprisingly, she let her fantasies run wild and they all involved lying under the perspiring body of Carlo as he drilled that massive cock up into her. She came over and over again, finally easing into a quiet, restful sleep while her pussy dried in the cool morning air. ********** Over the next two days, John was on the receiving end of some hot sex from his inexplicably aroused wife. Not that he complained to her at all, but Lisa could tell he was a little surprised at what had gotten into her. The house was starting to take shape as well, and she no longer felt like they were entirely living from a box. Wednesday morning came all too soon, or not soon enough, depending on what mood Lisa was in. Regardless, she found herself watching the clock from 7:30am on, waiting for the time when the jewelry store would open. In the interim, she busied herself with a shower and with styling her hair. She dressed somewhat more provocatively this time as well, not entirely by accident. This time, instead of a plain tan skirt and low heels, she chose a tight black skirt that finished above her knees, along with three-inch strappy heels. She went back and forth with her top, finally settling on a light blue cotton camisole. After hesitating briefly, she went back and removed her bra as well, letting her perfect breasts hang loose under the top. She finished off with a creamy red lipstick that was appropriate for daytime wear, but still quite sexy. Ready at last, she set out for the jewelry store once again. Unlike the first time, when she was searching for an appropriate store, this time the drive seemed to take only moments. She found herself parking the car almost before she realized it, having been daydreaming as she drove. Lisa decided to wait in the car for a few minutes to relax before going inside. Already she could feel her pussy beginning to tingle with a hint of excitement, and she had not even seen him yet. She reached into her purse and took out her cigarettes. She lit one and leaned her seat back slightly, checking herself in the mirror as smoke curled slowly from her fingertips. The features she saw reflected back at her were extremely attractive, and she felt reassured in her appearance. Finally she felt ready to go inside and face Carlo. She took a last drag from her cigarette and watched her reflection in profile as she exhaled, blowing herself a kiss. Carlo must have been aware of her car in the parking lot, as he was patiently waiting for her inside the store when she opened the door. As before, the temperature was cool and sent a shiver through her body while stiffening her nipples. Carlo approached her, a broad smile on his face. He took her by the hand and greeted her, touching her upper arm with his other hand. "Mrs. Reynolds, how wonderful it is to see you again!" he addressed her warmly. Lisa was slightly embarrassed and more than a bit uncomfortable at having this man whom she found so desirable address her by her married name. Settling in Bradbury My destination was a town called Bradbury. I'd never been there before and had only ever scene it on a map. It was about 90 minutes south of the large college town where I had spent five years as an undergraduate. Upon arriving, in the early morning, after one night's stay in a motel outside Salt Lake City and a second stop-off in Denver to take in the nightlife, I was amazed to discover how much the town resembled Mayberry. One nearly expected to see little Opie rounding a corner on his way to the fishing hole. With covered bridges, steeped churches, an old-fashioned soda and ice cream parlor, a beauty salon/barber shop and storefronts with windows displaying all manner of things from antiques to television sets; I was amazed when the town sign informed me the population was "over 5,000 and growing strong." Could have fooled me. This place hadn't seen growth since Theodore Cleaver hit puberty and moved away. I parked my car in front of the office of the local real estate agent and climbed out. In the window were displayed listings for various houses. I closed my eyes and pointed my finger. "Spacious 30,000 sq. ft. farm-house, 15 minutes from town square; 4 BR. 3 Bath, Full Kitchen with gas appliances. This house is a slight fixer-upper, but has a good story. It's just charming for a do-it-yourself couple looking to start a family." It was inside my price range. I dialed the number on the bottom of the listing and made an appointment for later in the day. I looked at the picture above the listing in the window. It was indeed a big old-looking house; two stories with green shutters and a white picket fence. If one squinted and used a bit of imagination, one could almost see a family posed in front of it. A dad, a mom, three kids, and a golden retriever; all of them smiling for the camera, perhaps wearing Santa caps as it was for the family's annual Christmas card. I ripped the listing off the front window of the real estate office, already knowing the house would be mine. Anything to keep them from abusing that poor golden retriever. I dug in my jacket pocket for the scrap of paper on which I had written the address of Bradbury Central High School. I looked around, it was nine o'clock in the morning and the town square was already rather busy. Across the way was the hair salon. I walked across the street and into the little salon. The women looked up as the bell above the door jingled. A young girl behind a little white desk stood up and smiled. "Hi, do you have an appointment?" "No. I was just hoping to ask for directions to the High School." The middle-aged man in the chair closest to the door perked up. "You're Mrs. Hawkes?" I turned to him. "Yes." "I'm Jean Peters. Social Studies." "Hi." Despite being only halfway through his coloring, Mr. Peters stood up and offered his hand to shake. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. You've been quite a topic of conversation around town." "Have I?" "Well, the school board hired you without giving up a heads up. We didn't know a thing about you. All through the summer conferences someone raised you as a topic of conversation. I must say, I was expecting someone older. I'm pleasantly surprised." He noticed the girl behind the reception desk still standing. "Oh." He walked over, the foil in his hair bouncing comically, "This is Brenda Wilson," he said, patting the girl's shoulder. "She's going to be one of your students this year. Isn't that right, Brenda?" "Yes." Her hands clasped together nervously over the buckle of her white short shorts. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Hawkes. I'm looking forward to taking your class. The only other option we have is German and…" Brenda made the international sign for gagging. "Nine spriken ze," she giggled. I nodded politely and smiled at her joke. After shaking both their hands, I fingered the zipper on my jacket and tried to look as though I were at a loss for words. "So, which way to the school? I'm supposed to check in and sign some things." Mr. Peters' eyes swept quickly down to my neckline and back up again, it was fleeting but I could tell he'd gotten a good look. "Right-O," he said, resuming his seat so that the tall stylist could continue her work on his hair. "Only a week before we begin the fall term, right? It's two blocks down, right on Elm and then half a block more and you're there. Hope you like it here." "I hope so too." I smiled at him and waved goodbye to Brenda as she set back down behind the reception desk. As I walked through the door, back out into the sunshine, I couldn't help but know that behind me Mr. Peters' eyes were watching my backside through the salon's front window. I paused on the curb, moving my hands to my hips as if taking a moment to breathe in the air. It smelled surprisingly clean, only a hint of car exhaust, extremely noticeable to someone who'd spent so long in L.A. I stepped down off the curb and began crossing the street. I wasn't paying too keen attention as, with a loud roar, a motorcyclist whizzed up and swerved abruptly to avoid me. I jumped backward and watched the bike falter slightly before the rider regained his control and braked to a stop in the middle of the street. He wore a helmet with a visor, his face hidden behind the windscreen so that when he whipped around to look at me all I saw was myself reflected in yellow and orange. His broad shoulders and torso were clad in a bruised but flattering brown leather biker's jacket, a near clone to the one I had draped over my arm. There was an awkward pause in his movements as he almost lifted his visor to yell at me, but then, deliberately, he put his hand down, deciding against wasting his time. In a moment he popped the clutch and spewing only a tiny bit of exhaust he sped off and was gone around a corner. I stared after him. Curiously, a moment passed as I contemplated the shape of him. There was something, I didn't know what, about him. Crossing the street to my mustang, I didn't really linger on him after that brief instant. Sure, it had been my fault for not looking both ways before stepping into the street, but the fact that he hadn't lifted his mask to berate me was, at that moment, just evidence to my mind that he had been in a great hurry. Anyway, I didn't care. I wanted to just get the paperwork at the High School wrapped up, receive my course requirements from the office, and get to some place where I could rest after an early morning on the road. My butt was raw from resting so long in the red leather driver's seat of my 2+2. I needed a long hot bath complete with self-servicing tension abating therapy. Bradbury Central High School was an old fashioned two-story building in the style of the 1950's municipal building; lots of windows with aluminum hand-rails leading up the front steps to the main doors. I half-expected Olivia Newton John and John Travolta to come hand-jiving out the front entrance, but much to my dismay the only person I saw was a squat little janitor washing the exterior windows. "Hello. I'm looking for the central office. I need to fill out some paperwork." The little fireplug of a man looked over his shoulder at me and then back to his work. "Principal left a few minutes ago. Got tired of waiting. You were supposed to be here at seven. He's got more stuff to do than wait around for some Spanish teacher." I grimaced at the back of the old man's head and turned to walk back to my car. "He left a packet of papers for me to give you if you showed up though. It's in the office. I'll take you in." He plopped his shammy-cloth down in the bucket of soapy water along with his squeegee and started walking briskly toward the building's front doors. I followed him as he unlocked the front door and then held it for me. "Name's Bruno." He looked me up and down, like a man who could care less. "Nice jacket," he said, as I passed by him. "Thanks, I stole it." "What?" "Old boyfriend. Long story." The main office was right next to the front door. He unlocked the door and went inside, I waited in the hall for only a moment before he returned with a manila envelope and handed it to me. I opened it and leafed through the papers inside; W-2, staff directory, copy of the summer news letter. As I skimmed over the course requirements for my class, Bruno kept talking. "The boss said to just bring them by tomorrow morning and give them to the receptionist. Her name's Connie. If anything breaks or a kid pukes in your class don't hesitate to call." He brushed past me and strode quickly to the main door. "Come on, I got to lock up." "Yeah, sorry." I rushed to catch up and scurried through as he held the door for me. "Thanks, Mr. Bruno." "Just Bruno, Miss. I never really got around to qualifying for the Mister part." He grunted his farewell and waved me off, returning back to washing his windows. I stopped at the town gas station and showed the attendant the picture of the house I had taken from the Real Estate Agent's office window. He gave me directions and within ten minutes I was turning off the paved road and onto a long gravel driveway lined with tall oak trees. It wasn't a very long driveway. I'd probably need an Indian scout to find my way to the mailbox every day, but that was neither here nor there. As the house grew in the distance, I saw that it was quite secluded and charming. On either side of the driveway, beyond the trees, wide-open meadows spread off for about a mile in either direction. The house was obviously a remnant of a large working farm that had been divided up over time, sold off bit by bit. I came out of the tunnel of foliage and into the turnaround courtyard. A small Honda Accord was parked directly in front of the house and, as I braked to a halt, a tall willowy woman, about 30, dressed in a saggy sarong and long pleated skirt, climbed out of it. She pointed to a small white garage off to the right side of the house. I pulled my mustang inside and shut off the engine. The woman waved as I climbed out of the car. "Hello," she said, meeting me at the open garage door. "I'm Emma Towns. I guess I'm your real estate agent." "Lillian Hawkes," I said, shaking her hand. I looked up at the big old house and nodded my head. "I'll take it." The woman, Emma, smirked and cocked her head. "You're sure you don't want a cottage? I have one in town. It's walking distance from the school." "How did you figure I wanted to be near the school?" "You're the new teacher, aren't you?" She shrugged and turned to stare with me up at the house's white stone front. "News travels fast around here," she said. "Can't blame us all for gossiping. You're the first person to move into town in a long time." I dug in my purse and took out two large stacks of bills. I passed them over to her. "Cash okay?" "Done. Here are the keys." Emma handed over a large key ring with at least a dozen keys on it. "There's one for every door in the house plus a master pass key. It has its own well so you already have running water. The house was built in 1878 by Captain George Handle…" "Don't care." "It's a very historical house. In fact, many of the town's people can trace their families back to this house. That's kind of why I think you should reconsider the cottage. Another party was really hoping to reclaim the place…" "They snooze they loose, right?" Emma gave me a bit of a rye smile. "You're kind of a wrecking ball, aren't you?" "Yeah, I've been called that before." "So, care for a tour?" "Not today. I need to unpack and shower. I'll figure out where everything is on my own." "Well, at least let me give you this." She walked back to her car and opened the rear passenger side door. "You're lucky I keep one with me at all times. I didn't have time to run over to the market and order one special." From her back seat she produced a gift basket wrapped in cellophane. "There's coffee beans, a little bottle of champagne, some chocolates, bath beads. Those will come in handy considering the house is without showers." "No showers?" "The two bathrooms were converted in the early part of the 1910's, showers hadn't really caught on back then. If you want a shower I can put you in touch with a couple of good contractors. It'll be expensive but they do good work for the money." "I'll make do," I said, taking the gift basket. "And the coffee will come in handy, too." "I figured as much. There are a few scented candles as well. I'd keep them close if I were you; the power has a tendency to go out from time to time." Emma began walking slowly over to her car, talking over her shoulder as she fiddled with her keys. "I'll come back tomorrow to pick up the signed forms and see how you're getting on. Until then I'll keep your deposit and payment in my safe at the office. You go on inside while I fill out a receipt for this money. I'll leave it on the counter and show myself out." "Which way to the master bathroom?" "There are two master bedrooms and two master bathrooms. One on either side of the top floor. The captain and his wife unfortunately took a long while to become accustomed to each other so they had the place built with separate rooms. "Both bathrooms are the third doors from the landing on either side of the house and they connect to the respective bedrooms up there." She pointed up to an enclosed upper deck that ran along the front of the house. "Notice how the upper patio connects them?" Emma smiled, as if watching some imagined scene playing out in her head of the two lovers from the past kissing passionately in the late afternoon sunshine. "They had fourteen children together," she said. "Something tells me they didn't spend as much time apart as the floor plan suggests." After a second, Emma floated back to reality and opened her car door. She ducked inside a moment and then stood, plopping a receipt booklet on the roof of the car. "It's a lovely house," she continued, as she counted the bills and then wrote in the booklet. "I know you'll be happy here. Maybe tomorrow you'll let me tell you about the place." With that, Emma tore the receipt out of the booklet, walked back to where I still stood, and handed it to me. She circled back around to the driver's side of the car. "Have a good night," she said. "Don't let the noises bother you, it's an old house." "Noises?" I asked. "Well, now that I've got your money I assume it's safe to tell you that a lot of people believe the house is haunted." I smirked. "Yeah, right," I walked over and spoke to her as she rolled down the window. "Are you saying the captain and his wife will be clanking chains all night and I won't get any sleep?" The agent smiled at me. "Oh, clanking chains isn't in their repertoire. But, I'd keep the bedroom door locked, just in case." "In case of what?" "In case one of them mistakes you for someone you're not." She gave a sly smile as she rolled up the window and started the car. I waved and watched her drive away down the gravel lane to the road. I suddenly felt a sense of abysmal loneliness envelope me. I shrugged a chill away and turned to my car. I grabbed my overnight bag and trudged toward the big front doors, juggling keys, welcome basket, luggage and purse as I went. A roll of thunder caused me to jump and suddenly it was raining. "Shit!" I ran for the cover of the recessed stone entry-way. Once safe in the pseudo-shelter I looked up at the dark grey clouds. They had seemed to come out of nowhere. I turned to the large oak double-doors. Something carved into the woodwork. "Accipere quam facere praestat injuriam." I knew it was Latin but wondered for a moment what it meant. The key was old and rusty but it worked in the lock with ease. I pushed open the front door and entered my new house. It was dark inside. I leaned over and flipped the light switch nearest the door but nothing happened. "Well, here's a good start to things." From what I could see I was in a large entrance hall with a big chandelier overhead and lots of old paintings adorning the walls. A central staircase led from the large entrance hall up to a small landing. It then split, going up to two separate galleries with four doors on either side of the house. At the base of the stairs were two large doors on either side of where I stood and when I leaned over I saw that two narrow hallways led behind the stairs to a least two more rooms at the back of the house. I walked over to the door on my left and found the key that fit the lock. I tried the lights in there to the same affect. No power in the house. Before closing the door I took in the furnishings. It was what someone might have called a front parlor back in the day. There were several stuffed chairs and a fireplace with a nice woven rug in front of it. No television, no stereo, nothing but a bunch of old magazines in a rack, and shelves-and-shelves of books. I closed the door and moved back to the main entrance hall where I'd dropped my bag along with the welcoming-basket. I dislodged the bath beads and the scented candles from the cellophane and ditched the basket at the bottom of the stairs. I climbed the stairs with my over night bag and the bath beads and veered left. I figured if the bedroom was the last door at the end of the gallery, then the bathroom was the third door along the gallery leading toward the front of the house. I tried the knob. Locked. I tried three different keys before I figured out which was the skeleton key. The bathroom was spacious with a white marble floor and copper fixtures on the large cast-iron tub. Immediately I stripped off my jacket and tank top and hung them on a hook I found just beside the door. I sat on the lip of the bathtub and cranked the hot water spigot. With a sharp groan the water spilled out. I pushed the metal plug into the drain and left my hand under the faucet until the water was nearly scalding. As the tub filled slowly, I went over to and unlocked the door that led to the master bedroom. It wasn't large but a pair of French doors led out onto the white-washed balcony. The sun was dipping low in the sky and a golden glow was playing across the window. I closed the door and, topless, I walked back out onto the gallery with the keys jingling in my hands. I ambled back to the first two doors along the corridor. Behind door one was a coat closet stacked with shoe boxes, some of them very dusty and old. I had an impulse to go rummaging but I figured it could wait until the next morning. I closed the closet door and moved to the next. Door number two opened into a small room with a large wooden desk and several bookshelves; obviously a study. I stepped inside and ran my fingers along the edge of the desk. It was clean and tidy. "Ms. Town must have had a made come through," I thought. I walked over to the bookshelves and brushed my fingers along the spines of a collection of large black ledgers with numbers along them. The numbers started at '78 and went on to '99 before starting over at '00 and going through to '18. I pulled out the one that read '78, it was obviously the oldest on the shelf. I flipped it open. It was hand-written in a very fine masculine scrawl. "September, 1878~ Daniels and I are both optimistic about the annual yield. Irrigation problems from the previous three seasons have been righted and crops appear to have stood up well against…" I flipped to the inside cover of the ledger and found the name of the man who had kept it. "George A. Handle, a record of crops and seasons anno. 1878." I suddenly felt something, like a slight breath on my ear. I jumped and dropped the ledger on the floor. Just as I bent to pick it up I remembered the bath and rushed out, letting the door to the study latch behind me. I made it back into the bathroom just in time to prevent an overflow. Settling in Bradbury The light filtering in through the open doors was getting rather dim, the storm blackening the afternoon sky to that of late evening. I decided to light the candles but paused when I realized I was without a lighter or matches. Rummaging through my overnight bag, I knew I wouldn't find anything. "Great. I'm going to have to bathe in the dark…" A large creak sounded in the dimly lit room and I jumped. In the corner there was a large linen cupboard. I hadn't noticed it there before but it was slightly cracked, the door swinging slightly loose on its hinges. "Hello?" I stepped away from the cupboard and grabbed my leather jacket off the hook my the door, covering myself. "Is someone in there?" It was quiet except for the shallow slap of little water droplet's falling from the tub faucet into the water. I took a tentative step toward the door. "This isn't funny, you know. I can call the cops." I reached out slowly, carefully and caught the cabinet door and pulled it open. It was empty except for a few moth-eaten towels on the shelves. I sighed heavily, feeling very stupid. I just about closed the closet door when I saw something clear at the back in the corner. I reached in and pulled out the little book of matches. Turning it over in my hands, I could see it was very old looking, with the strike strip across the front and very faded lettering. I tried to read it in the dark but I couldn't manage. I walked over, grabbed one of the candles, and carried across the room and sat it up on the sink. The match struck, I lit first the one on the sink and then I went back, and set the other candle down on the floor near the bathtub. I turned the matchbook over. The print was faded but I was sure it looked like two big letters, done up in a grand design. "Initials maybe?" With a shrug, I went and put the matches inside my jacket pocket, once again hanging it on the hook. The steam from the hot bath made the air heavy and humid, the bath beads added a faint scent of lavender. As I slipped into the water, laying back to let my hair dip below the foamy surface, letting the water lap gently against me, I closed my eyes and began to ponder things. "An hour ago," I thought, "I was technically homeless." Now I lived in what was basically a mansion. It was old and run down, but there was something comforting about its size and apparent cleanliness. Whomever Emma had hired to keep the place up, they did a good job. I let the water drain out of the tub a little bit after a few minutes and added more from the hot spigot. I rubbed the water over my neck and shoulders, letting it sooth the place where the seat-belt had dug into me for almost two whole days. Then I worked up lather with the bath beads and began to wash the skin over my breasts and stomach. The warm water felt really very good. In fact, it felt better than good. I suddenly found myself staring at the ceiling thinking of ways to help myself relax. It wasn't long before my hands found there way down over my stomach. I ran the tips of my fingers over the little tuft of hair I kept demurely trimmed above my pubis. Along the sides of my outer labia I could feel the slight bumps of fresh stubble slowly growing. Had I a razor handy I would have taken care of them, but as I had none… My fingers rubbed along the edges of my opening as I thought back to the biker who had nearly run me down in the street. What was it about him? I hadn't seen his face but for some reason he was burned in my brain. I closed my eyes and tried to replay the image of him in my head. His broad shoulders and obviously solid but slender torso under his worn leather jacket, his faded blue jeans, his brown leather boots with buckles… "Climb on!" I look into blue eyes under wild black hair. Holding his leather clad arm out to me, as he straddles the shiny black mechanical monster between his strong thighs. Our eyes lock for only an instant before my gaze falls away from him. I'm shaking my head to his invitation. I feel his gloved hand grab my bare arm. Looking down, I realize that I'm naked in the middle of the street. All the town looks upon the scene with mouths agape and breaths heavy. The men are all erect at the site of my nakedness. The women, mothers, hiding their children's eyes as if they are appalled, but their attentions too are transfixed. They are watching the demon biker. He pulls my naked body to his, I can feel the gentle sucking friction of the leather against my skin. My chest is pressed to his. His hands are firm against my back. "Climb on," he says, quietly but with authority. "I won't tell you again!" I felt the heat in my groin building as I kept my eyes closed and my hand moving over my outer lips, teasing myself. Straddling the large motorcycle, with my hands around his middle and my breasts pressed tight against his back, I can feel the slightly raised lettering proclaiming him a "Hell's Angel." With a flick of his wrist the bike's motor revs and I feel the guttural rumble all the way from the bottoms of my souls to the pit of my stomach. The vibrations pulse up from underneath me, my pussy leaks a small amount of its own juice out onto the leather cushion of the bitch seat. With a roar of the motor he peals away from the curb, leaving the town's people in a cloud of road-grit, dirt, and exhaust. Pressing my cheek to his back I inhale his smell, a combination of motor oil, sweat, and something else, sweet and heavy. A scent below the others, a secret scent of shaving soap, used to keep his face cleanly shaven and smooth to the touch of my fingers. The countryside blurs by, the wind whips through our hair. I can feel the breeze over every inch of my body as we pass cars, semi-trucks, and a police cruiser. The cop does not even attempt to give chase. He can't catch us. Then the deceleration comes. We turn off into a thicket. He knocks the kick-stand into place and helps me off the bike. My legs weak from the vibrations and burning warmth from the engine. In a flash he is on me, his gloved hands running down my back, pulling me to him. Those eyes and that smile, so frightening. I feel his gloved hand move down the slope of my backside and underneath. I let my fingers slip inside me, imagining they were the biker's clad in dark leather gloves. "You've been a rotten girl, Lillian," his voice is just as harsh and guttural as the motorcycle he rides and shocking in the silence of the thicket. "I… I didn't mean to be… so… bad." My breathing erratic, I held on. Focusing on my eyes, he quickens his pace with his hand. "Bend over the bike," he commands. "Now." His hand moves away and he shoves me over to the motorcycle, its engine still alive with clicks and sputters. I bend, I know better than to disobey. And then, a new sensation, not that of the rough leather, but softer, the feeling of his bare hands on my back. He is feeling me. Feeling the heat from my skin brush gently against his finger-tips. He withdraws his hand and soon the familiar warmth as he pushed into me. The sloppy wets sounds, my panting turning into soft groaning, building into screams. His hands clutching, groping, clawing at my exposed breasts. And then… I rode it for ten seconds, my eyes closed and my breath short. I came hard against my own fingers, the images in my imagination flickering and then dying to black. Opening my eyes I saw the tiles of the ceiling above me and felt the tepid water of the bathtub. I closed my eyes once more to try and picture the face again. Who's face had I put on the mystery-man's body? I drifted for a moment back to some half-forgotten image. A boy perched on the edge of a small feather mattress, naked, eating cold Chinese food and smiling at me. The connection was almost made in my mind when suddenly, I smelled something funny coming from the hall. I sniffed and sat upright in the tub. It was heavy, sweet and musky. Pipe tobacco? I stood and walked over to my bag. From the bottom I pulled a towel and wrapped myself in it. I went out into the gallery and sniffed. "Is someone here?" It was quiet. I walked down toward the stairs but stopped when I saw that the second door was ajar. Was I going crazy? I thought I'd rushed out of the room and heard the door latch behind me. But here it was, ajar and unlocked. I pushed it open and through the one window at the far end of the room I could see the last rays of the sun kiss the hilltops on the distant horizon. Though the room was empty the smell of smoke was dense. I took a tentative step toward the door, working up the courage to go inside. I looked about the room and then at the floor. I had dropped the ledger on the floor in my rush to get to the bathroom and shut off the water. I hadn't had time to pick it up. I looked at the spot were the ledger had lain and sucked in a breath. It wasn't there. Instead it lay open on the desk. My arms went limp and my jaw slack. My foot was less than an inch from the threshold when I let out a small noise. In an instant the door swung violently shut right in my face with a loud bang. I reeled back and suddenly felt cold all over my body. I looked down and saw that I had lost my towel. I quickly bent to pick it up and I rushed back into the bathroom and locked the door from the inside. I sat watching the candles when suddenly there was a loud thump. I jumped and then sighed as the light over the sink flickered on. Settling In Rewarded by her approving sounds, John kissed her stomach more intensely, slipping his tongue into her navel, which drew a gasp of excitement. Lisa arched backwards, thrusting her toned midsection and hips closer to his face and pulling his head in tighter. Suddenly his kisses started tracking downward until her short pubic hairs where brushing his chin. She held her breath intently, wondering if he was really going down on her. Had he somehow forgotten, in the excitement of the moment, where she had just been and what awaited him inside of her? John continued to kiss and lick his way down her pelvis, savoring the rich arousal that filled the air pungently and pulled his face to her womanhood like a magnet. And then it was in front of him, lips swollen and red, and sopping wet with an enormous amount of fluids. Her clit was engorged to a size he had never seen on her, and it stood straight out from her pussy with the hood fully retracted. He pushed his tongue against it and kissed her there. Lisa had an orgasm on the spot, not so much from the physical contact, as from the knowledge that her husband was beginning to eat the pussy that had so recently had another man's cock inside of it, and still contained large quantities of his semen. She unconsciously grabbed his head and buried his face in her slit as her body shook from the orgasm. Knowing that he had just made his wife come at the merest touch was enough to make John overcome any last reservations he may have had, just in time for her to push her sloppy twat onto his tongue like a cock that she was riding. He tasted more than saw the thick mixture of sexual emissions, both hers and her lover's, that pooled onto his tongue as he began licking her. His cock throbbed with excitement as he began earnestly eating his wife's creamy hole and swallowing the fluids that rained from her. Lisa came twice more on his tongue, depositing the majority of Carlo's load into her husband's mouth before she pushed him onto his back. "Enough," she hissed, kissing him savagely and tasting the familiar essence of her lover on her husband's mouth. "Fuck me!" She rose up and planted her hips upon him, taking him deep inside of her. Stretched and lubricated as her pussy was after Carlo's thick rod, it was easy for John to slide fully within her and reach new depths that had never before been open to him. "Go on," she urged him, "Fuck me hard. Treat me like a whore!" He thrust upward hard to meet her rocking hips, setting off slapping sounds as their thighs met firmly. With one hand he reached up and grasped her left tit hard, stretching the breast as he used it like a lever to pull her toward him until he could roughly suck and bite at her nipple. Her pussy was leaking a creamy wash around his shaft as she moaned in ecstasy. Every movement of her slick vaginal folds across his dick-flesh sent shivers of pleasure through his spine and he groaned with pleasure. John suddenly rolled over and pinned her to the bed beneath him in one smooth movement. He was able to do so without disengaging and was almost instantly thrusting away inside of her, fucking her harder than ever before. She looked up at him, her eyes bright and her lips twisted in an orgasmic leer. "Are you teaching me a lesson?" she asked him throatily. "Are you fucking the shit out of me because I've been sleeping around on you?" "Yes!" he gasped passionately. "It feels good, doesn't it?" she went on relentlessly. "My sloppy seconds, I mean. And having an excuse to pound me like this." She wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed him in tighter as he nodded. "We've never fucked like this before. I like it," she said. Again, he could only nod, intent on her steaming cunt and the drilling he was giving her. "If I stopped screwing Carlo, we wouldn't have this any more," she said thoughtfully. "And I've fucked you more in the past month than ever before. You could even say that this has been good for our sex life." Her mind was racing. This was the moment of truth, and she had timed it to nearly coincide with his climax. John was just beginning to come as her words arrived. "Oh God," he grunted, "I- just - keep fucking him!" he screamed as he blasted his hot load into his wife's hungry womb. They collapsed in bed afterward and soon were asleep. John never noticed the self-satisfied smile on Lisa's lips. ********** Epilogue: Time flew by as it has a tendency to do, and before the happy couple knew it, the snow was flying. Soon, a trip back home to see the families for the holidays was in order. It was only a few minutes into visiting Lisa's parents when her mother remarked, "Why Lisa, John must be doing even better than you had hoped. You're positively dripping in jewelry. That necklace is simply fabulous, and my God - you've upgraded your engagement ring! I've never seen a stone that big before!" For his part, John managed a queasy half smile while Lisa touched his hand lovingly...