Posted by Kimnikki on June 29, 2003 at 13:05:37:
"Haunted?" Marty Mathis didn't know whether to laugh in the man's face or just walk away. "Come on Mr. Davis. We're in the 3rd Millennium, not the middle ages."
"I've never been able to take such things seriously either, Mr. Mathis. But I have to be honest about it. Rumor has it that the house is haunted. I figured I'd better tell you now rather than have some nosey neighbor tell you I'm trying to sell you the Amityville Horror." The real estate agent chuckled to make it clear he was joking.
"It's such a pretty place," said Marty's buxom wife Vicky. She half-turned toward Harris, arching her back, giving him another peek at the firm, unrestricted breasts bobbing beneath her loose blouse. "Could we look inside?"
"Of course, Mrs. Mathis," the real-estate agent replied, trying hard to be professional and avert his eyes. He opened and closed his hands several times, as if he were squeezing large melons.
"Stop it!" Marty whispered, elbowing his wife. "He's about to loose control of himself."
Vicky gave him an evil look, totally out of place on her beautiful face. "A reaction like *that* from *you* would be nice once in a while," she hissed at him vindictively.
Marty pushed her towards the house. "Let's not start that again," he said through clenched teeth. As she walked up the paved entryway, she wiggled her ass so seductively that the flustered Harris fumbled and dropped the large ring of house keys he carried.
The house itself was actually very lovely. It had very large grounds, which were somewhat overgrown with flowerbeds & a lawn that had done wild. It was made of field stone, 2 stories tall, and quite large. Looking at the small custom touches (scroll work on the decks, custom made doors and windows) Marty could tell that someone had loved and put a lot of work into the house. The grounds also said that, for despite their overgrown condition, it was not hard to see that once they had been a well-cared for and much loved addition to the house.
It was in an upscale neighborhood, though it was not far from some of the poor districts of the city. That had been part of the appeal ... despite its massive property and square footage, it was really not all that expensive. Still, once he had seen it, Marty realized that it was even cheaper than it should be, which had prompted Marty to ask why the place was so cheap.
Haunted ... well he didn't believe that for a moment, but if having that reputation lowered the rent on this place, then he would go along with the idiocy of it. "So tell me about this 'haunted' house," Marty said as he caught up with them.
"Well I've worked for the same company for 11 years," Harris replied, "and in that time I'd say the place has been rented about two dozen times. The longest anyone stayed was about four or five months. No one would ever say exactly what was wrong. Some of the neighbors say they've heard strange noises and seen weird lights and such. But I've been showing it to people for years, and I've never seen a thing myself. The boys at the office couldn't help but wonder about the neighborhood rumors about it being haunted."
"Who owns it," Marty asked while Harris sorted though he keys to find the one that would unlock the large oaken double front doors."
"It was inherited by an older gentleman in Florida who has no use for it. The will said the house was to be listed with this company if it was ever sold or resold. We've made a little money off of it in the past few years by leasing it, but no one will buy it." Harris finally found the right key, and unlocking the front door, stepped aside to allow Marty and Vicky to enter.
"Oh this is lovely," Vicky enthused, passing the large entryway and looking into the living room. It was decorated in a mixture of styles that should have clashed but didn't. About the only odd thing was that while still appealing, it all looked somewhat older. Not shabby or worn out, but from the styles and the shapes of various bits and pieces you could tell it was decorated several years ago. Both Marty and Vicky could see the same loving touches that showed in the grounds and the outside of the house. "Does the furniture go with this place?" Vicky asked.
Harris nodded, darting another quick glance down the front of her blouse. "About half the rooms are still furnished, including this one and the master bedroom upstairs. Feel free to look around."
Marty followed his wife through the house, only half-aware of what he was doing. She gasped and oooohed over many of the rooms, obviously very pleased with the place ... which was all he really cared about. Finding a place they both enjoyed was key to this new beginning for them.
He glanced over at Harris, and noticed his eyes bulge as Vicky bent way over to take a look in one of the kitchen cupboards. He hoped she wasn't going to be a bitch again today. He could well understand Harris' attraction to her body. He had felt the same way himself, six years earlier, when he first met her.
Vicky had been a professional model and dancer. Marty had been an advertising executive for a national magazine. He still wondered how he'd won her heart over fierce competition. Yet won her he had (and truth be told she had also won his heart) and they had been married within 2 years of first meeting. Their animal-like attraction provided many wonderful sleepless nights in their first years together.
But time had passed, and with it had passed their passion. They still loved each other ... but somehow the spark had gone out of both of them. Maybe they had burned themselves out ... maybe it what the pressure of his job and her continuing career. They had been spending more and more time at work, and not nearly enough at home. He wasn't sure if that was the cause, but he knew it sure wasn't helping. They also had not yet had any children, so they didn't have that to help keep them together.
He had not had an affair ... yet ... though God he had been sorely tempted. And so far as he knew she had not yet had an affair on him.
They still loved each other deeply ... yet they couldn't seem to stand each other's company. Desperate to save their marriage, they had agreed to leave their careers and move out to the much quieter suburbs of their city. There Marty would become a freelance writer and photographer, and Vicky would begin to do the drawing and painting she had longed to do for many years. Their search of the burbs had brought them to this wonderful house in the Bellows Falls subdivision.
Snapping back to the moment, Marty saw that there were several rooms which could be used as a studio for Vicky, and a massive den which would be perfect as writing space for him. There was even an old darkroom in the basement that he could easily convert to a photo lab and studio for himself.
He was considering how much money it would take to do the work when Vicky let out a happy squeal as she opened the door to the master bedroom.
"That is the biggest bed I've ever seen!" she shouted and ran across the room to leap onto the huge four-poster, almost disappearing in its fluffy quilt. Leaning back against the headboard, she looked at Marty slyly. "It's such a pretty house ... and perfect for us both ... I think we should buy it. Or are you afraid of ghosts and goblins?"
"Are you," he asked, returning the same sly look.
"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "It might even make the nights a little more interesting than they've been."
Marty clenched his fists and felt his face go red. "Bitch," he muttered to himself.
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Marty decided that to buy it right away was a bit premature. Lord knew why it was really so cheap. For all they knew it was actually falling down. So he signed a 1-year lease, with an option to buy at anytime.
Their first few weeks in the house were uneventful. They settled in comfortably, both of them feeling very at ease with the house. The plan even seemed to be working; while neither of them felt any renewed passion, neither of them felt the urge to be snippy or start a fight. They spent the first few weeks cleaning up the house, setting up their mutual studios and fixing up the yard. They were both very pleased with it in the end.
The house was beautiful, very well built, and seemed to almost welcome the couple. The garden and yard proved to have been someone's labor of love. Flowerbeds by the dozens and well-trimmed hedges and trees made a natural art piece of the house and its surroundings.
They both felt more relaxed, and began to settle into a pleasant companionship. Marty felt some hope that the plan was going to work. They had not found that old spark, but they were more relaxed now ... and that might allow their love to bloom once more.
In fact things were so quiet, so relaxed, that they had all but forgotten Harris' warning. At least until the Monday of the 5th week after moving in.
On that night Marty awoke with a start. The clock on the nightstand read 2:30 a.m. Something had woken him up ... he was sure of that, but he had no idea what had disturbed him. He listened for a while, but heard nothing, and so he rolled over, snuggled up against Vicky and tried to go back to sleep. Then Marty heard it ... a low, soft moaning; the sound of a woman coming from the guest bedroom. He heard it only once, but he was sure he heard it, and it stayed with him the rest of the night.
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Early the next morning he checked out the adjoining room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except the sheets and blankets had been pulled down from the bed. He mentioned it to Vicky at breakfast. "Did you take a nap in the guest bedroom sometime yesterday?"
"No ... why?" she asked. Marty told her about the bed.
"We probably just forgot to make it up," she told him.
He accepted that, but was sure that after he had put the bed in there that he had fixed up the sheets and blankets.
=======================================
Two nights later Marty was again awakened by the moaning sound from the next room. This time he decided to go investigate, but before he could get up, he heard the identical sound from Vicky, lying next to him in the big four-poster bed. Not only was the sound identical ... but it happened at exactly the same time.
She was lying on her back, asleep, and the moonlight from the window showed a smile on her face. He could she her hands moving under the covers, and as gently as he could he lifted them away. The T-shirt she slept in was bunched around her shoulders, one of her hands nestled between her legs, the other massaging her breasts.
Marty watched for several minutes, all thoughts of strange sounds and getting back to sleep totally gone. Finally, unable to resist the lust that overpowered him, he moved his own hand to her damp pubic hairs while his lips nuzzled her neck.
Vicky awoke with a start, but then her eyes softened and she pulled him over to lie atop her. "Oh honey ... come here!" she moaned, her voice husky with need. With fingers tangled in his hair, she moved his head around to kiss him, her tongue probing deeply. Then she pushed his face to her breasts, helping fit one of them into his mouth. He wedged his knee between her legs, and she humped herself against it, leaving a sticky shinny trail on his suddenly hot skin.
After a few moments, Marty shifted his attention to her other breast, hearing her moan as his tongue flicked over the stiff bud of her nipple. Her musky, aroused odor so inflamed him that his swollen cock stabbed against he soft skin of her belly. Her hand found his shaft right away, and she gasped in surprise ... he was so swollen that she could barely her fingers around it. She shifted herself slightly, guiding the head between her legs, closer and closer to her soft wet folds.
"Put it in ... please Marty ... put it in now!" she begged.
Marty needed no further urging, Pushing Vicky's knees up to her chest he rammed deep inside her in one savage thrust, hearing her gasp turn into a long low growl. Marty groaned through clenched teeth ... it had been a *long* time since he had felt this aroused, this powerful. He paused for only a moment, reveling in the feel of her wetness around him. Then with a rumbling growl he started to pound in and out of her.
Vicky grunted each time he thrust into her, arching her body against him. Each time he withdrew she gave a soft wine, then grunted again as she felt his thick cock push ahead.
How long this went on neither could be sure, but it soon sent them both over the edge. Vicky gave a long shudder, then cried out as she started to cum. Marty managed to hang on for a half-dozen more thrusts but then could no longer control himself. He shuddered almost identically to her, and then he came, squirting abundant gobs of hot seed into her. Feeling him pulsating deep inside her, Vicky contracted her vagina, clutching and squeezing the last few drops from her husband, extending the duration of their mutual orgasm.
Marty collapsed beside her, pressed up against her hot sweaty body. He gave her a long kiss, then held her close. "Wow ... it hasn't been *that* good for us in a long time," he said with a happy smile.
Vicky gave a contented sigh. "Umm ... you had perfect timing love. I was having a wild sexy dream."
"I know," he said with a chuckle, "you were playing with yourself."
"And you watched?" she said with a blush. "How embarrassing."
"Not one bit ... it was incredible sexy," he said, kissing the back of her neck.
Vicky reached down and found his still erect cock, slick with their combined fluids. "Hmmm ... yes, I can see it was exciting." She gave him a gentle squeeze, and his cock twitched in her palm. as if it were alive. She shifted slightly, moving down so she could plant a soft kiss on its head. Above her Marty gasped and shuddered from head to foot. "Think we can do it again lover?" she purred at him.
"You better believe it," he whispered, wrapping his fingers in her hair and pushing her lips down over his cock.
The next morning, Marty looked into the guest bedroom. The bedcovers were again disturbed ... even more than last time. But he knew that he and his wife had fixed them before going to bed.
=======================================
Another strange thing happened that week. Marty had been in his study, working on a new story when he heard a loud crash and Vicky cry out. He ran upstairs and found Vicky tangled up in her easel, paint dripping from her nose and hair. He smothered a chuckle and helped her up.
"What happened?" he asked her. As he helped her up he noticed that a large section of the wall in her studio was sticking out.
"Well I was trying to get some better light, so I turned my easel around and was leaning back against that part of the wall so I'd have room to paint." She pointed to the section now sticking out a few inches.
"Well suddenly there was this 'pop' noise and the wall moved. I was so startled that I jumped up and knocked everything over."
Marty took a peek inside the now exposed wall and saw that it had not let loose ... it was actually a hidden door in the wall! Inside were some cardboard boxes, about the size of shoeboxes.
"Well, well, well," Marty murmured, "what do we have here?" He reached inside and took out the boxes, opening one of them.
Both he and Vicky gasped in surprise as the contents were revealed. Inside the box (and in the other's when the couple opened them) was a large assortment of sexual toys. And not just vibrators and dildos either ... though there were several of those. There were also handcuffs, soft ropes, blindfolds and ankle cuffs. There were small clips and clamps, a couple of paddles, and an assortment of various whips. Several bottles of massage oils (long dried up) were included, and there were even a few things that neither of them could identify.
"Well," Vicky said with a rosy blush, "some previous tenants were certainly a bit ... adventurous."
Marty looked at the amount of dust on the boxes, and at how well the hidden closet fit into the wall. Once closed you could not see it unless you knew where to look. "I don't think any of the tenants owned these love. I'll bet it was the original owners of this place. These have been in there a long time."
They poked though the various items, both of them intrigued by the toys. After a bit Marty went to put them away, but Vicky stopped him. She took the box that contained the wrist cuffs and the soft ropes and tucked it under her arm. "You know honey," she said with a soft smile, "I've heard that these games can be a lot of fun." She blushed a deep crimson, but continued to speak. "Want to try some of this stuff out ... just to see?"
Marty felt his cock begin to harden almost instantly. He gave his wife an evil grin, and then tossing the remaining boxes into the hidden closet, he scooped Vicky up into his arms and headed off toward the master bath.
"Hey you big lug," she said with a laugh in her voice, "where do you think you're going?"
"Well first we better wash that paint off you. After all, we don't want to get paint into the working parts of those cuffs ... we might never get you out."
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Another week passed and twice more Vicky had dreams, masturbated and attacked Marty hungrily when he wakened her. As often as not, they would play with the collection of toys they had found in the hidden closet. Each morning following their lovemaking, the bed in the extra room looked as if had been slept in.
One morning in bed, Vicky gently scolded him. "Love, if you get horny at night, I wish you'd wake me up before you start. And don't be so rough." She pulled up her shirt and examined her breasts. "I think you gave me bruise last night."
Marty lay in bed for a long time after his wife went downstairs. He was beginning to be frightened. He had been awakened again the night before by the moaning from the next room ... the sounds of a hot sexy woman. Sounds that were exactly the same as those his wife made during her dreams. Yet he knew that he had not made love to her.
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At Harris' office that afternoon, Marty got the name and telephone number of the owner. On his way home, he stopped by a pay phone and made a long distance telephone call.
"Hello, Mr. Von Aden? Mr. James Von Aden? My name is Marty Mathis ... my wife and I recently moved into a house you own in Bellows Falls."
"Ah yes Mr. Mathis, Mr. Harris told me that you had been renting the place. What can I do for you?" The man sounded older, perhaps even elderly, and just the slightest trace of an accent.
"Well," Marty replied, "I've got some questions I'd like to ask you ... if you don't mind."
"Sure thing; what do you want to know?"
"How did you come by the place ... Mr. Harris told us something about a will I believe."
There was a short pause, as if the old man were gathering his thoughts. "Originally it belonged to my son and daughter-in-law. I inherited it when they died."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that ... I didn't know that. Do you mind if I ask ... did they by any chance die *in* the house?" Marty didn't want to bring any painful memories for this man, but he needed to know.
"As a matter of fact, yes they did. That was about 12 years ago now. Mind if *I* ask *you* a question now?" The old man's voice was filled with curiosity.
"Sure," Marty replied, "what is it?"
"Just about every person who's rented that house has called me up at some point or another and asked me that same question. Is there some kind of problem with the place? " The old man sounded both worried and intrigued at the same time.
"I'm not sure ... just some things I wanted to check out. Can I call you again if something else comes up?"
"Anytime," the old fellow replied, "feel free."
=======================================
Over the next few weeks the situation became no worse and no better. Several times a week Vicky had her dreams, and each time Marty heard the matching moaning sounds coming from the adjoining room. Each morning after such an incident, he would find the spare bed rumpled and tossed.
This was not bugging him as much as it might have under different circumstances. The fact that their plan seemed to be working distracted him from worrying too much about the strange sounds and the messed up bed. The were both happier, more satisfied with each other ... especially Vicky. Passion between them rekindled, their lovemaking intensified, and her appetite for sex became almost insatiable. It was just like when they were first married. And in some ways even better.
Vicky had managed to complete several landscapes and had been invited to display a few of them in one of the local galleries. Even Marty, never much of an art critic, could see that her work had greatly improved since they moved into the house. Marty himself grew more relaxed and better able to concentrate on his writing. He even sold several stories to prestigious literary magazines.
Things were going great again ... he was not about to let that get side tracked because he found a few things about this new house that sent a small chill down his back.
One night Marty was on a role, the story he was working on just seeming to write itself and he decided to keep going while the going was good. He stayed up quite late and Vicky decided to go to bed alone. A few hours later, having finally exhausted whatever muse had visited him, he stumbled upstairs. Approaching the master bedroom, he heard a strange noise. Tiptoeing to the door, he pushed it open a few inches and peeked inside.
What he saw both shocked and enthralled him. Vicky was lying on her back, butt naked in the middle of the bed. The covers were strewn carelessly about the floor, along with the shirt and panties she usually wore to bed. Her eyes were closed, and he was sure she was still asleep. But her legs were spread wide, her knees up against her chest. Her arms where held high over her head, suspended in the air, looking for all the world as if her wrists had been tied to the bed posts.
Her hands opened and closed convulsively and her arms shook, as if she were trying to get them loose from the bonds that held them. She was thrusting her hips wildly, and he head was rolling from side to side, her long hair whipping around the sheets. Sweat ran between her breasts, making her limbs shine in the moonlight, and fluid spilled from between her legs to soak the bed sheets.
As he watched in fascination, her face contorted and her stomach muscles contracted and she gave a long shuddering moan. These were all old and familiar signs to Marty ... she was having an orgasm ... and a strong one too.
Not quite believing what his own eyes were seeing, Marty's thoughts raced like the wind. 'She's being fucked ... thoroughly fucked ... but there's no one there. Or is there?'
He continued to watch; too spell bound to leave, too frightened to intrude. When Vicky's spasms passed, she gave a long satisfied sigh and relaxed, her arms at last falling to her sides. After awhile she rolled onto her side and drifted off to deeper sleep.
Marty waited another few minutes, then cautiously, almost timidly, entered the room. Just as he reached to foot of the bed something cold brushed past him, like a draft of air, and he froze in his tracks. When nothing further happened he undressed, picked up the disheveled covers and climbed into bed next to his wife. She snuggled against him, murmuring his name lovingly, but he did not get any sleep that night.
=======================================
The next day, Marty said nothing to Vicky about what he had observed. Making a vague excuse about running some errands, he drove to the small police station that served Bellows Falls and the surrounding community. A few discrete inquiries led him to a veteran sergeant who remembered the original owners of the house. Several cups of coffee, and Marty's story of writing a story about Bellows Falls and its legends and myths, made the sergeant quite talkative.
"Ric and Lisa Von Aden? Sure I remember them. Early middle aged folks, though still a damn good-looking couple. That Lisa, she was a knockout. Tiniest woman I ever saw ... and just about the prettiest too." The sergeant held his hand above the floor, a few inches short of 5 feet from the floor. "No bigger than this, but brother I'll tell you she had a killer figure. Everything fit just right you know what I mean?"
"And Ric ... he was the exact opposite. Big man ... well over six feet and built like a truck. Used to help us out sometimes ... you know. an auxiliary officer when we were short a man." The old sergeant gave Marty a sly look. "You're living in their house now ... seen any ghosts?"
Marty knew he had to be careful. A good policeman could tell when you had more than just an idle curiosity about something, and this old sergeant seemed a smart fellow. "I don't think so, but hearing about them is what gave me this idea. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Can you tell me the story behind them, and the house?"
"Well," he began, "not much of a story to tell."
"Ric and Lisa were one of the nicest couples I ever met. Good people you know ... not just phonies out to make themselves look good. Did a lot of charity work, and volunteered for a lot of the community clubs and such. Never had any kids of their own, but they took in a ton of foster kids. That's why the place is so big ... kept having to expand it to make room. Everybody round here like them ... far as I know didn't have a enemy in the world."
Marty was impressed by the image the Von Adens' had left with the old cop. Policemen tended to get very cynical, especially the sergeants. The Von Adens' must have been something special indeed to leave so good and so strong a picture with this old grizzled cop.
"And I can't remember any two people who loved each other more. She clung to him like ivy on a wall & Ric would have died to keep any harm from her. When Ric was in the office he just never shut up about his Pixy ... that's what he called her. We never minded though ... it was kinda like having this big puppy you just loved to watch." The sergeant gave a low chuckle, his eyes lost in memory.
"Ric would usually man the station for us when we were short handed. We found out that if things were quiet Lisa would walk on down, they would draw the shades and then they'd go into the back room for a little midnight quickie I guess. Can't say as how I'd blame him."
"Bit kinky though ... liked to play games and stuff. Oh they never flaunted it in front of the kids or around town or nothing. But every so often one of us would be going by on patrol and we'd see Ric chasing Lisa around butt naked except for a cowboy hat and a lariat, and she'd be wearing nothing except an Indian headdress. The foster kids were all grown up and out of the house by then ... I guess that's when they started getting ... well a bit more lively about their games."
"They even had some friends up once in awhile ... you know ... for kinky parties I guess. We got some complaints from their neighbors about that from time to time, but I'd just ignore 'em. That's not the kind of stuff I'd enjoy, but it was their own place and they never hurt anybody."
The sergeant looked Marty in the eye. "And to tell you how respected they were, even after all that stuff became pretty well known, nobody in town ever brought it up or used it against 'em. Even the local papers kept it quiet. Yeah ... they were good people."
"Can you tell me how they died?" Marty asked.
"To tell the truth, I don't really know," the sergeant replied with a puzzled frown. "The M.E's report didn't list a cause, just said that foul play was not suspected."
"A cleaning lady found them upstairs in that big bed, both of them stark naked. I always used to wonder what Lisa looked liked undressed and close up. Damn sorry I had to find out the way I did."
"You were there?" Marty asked. This was the first person he found with a first hand account of the Von Aden's deaths.
"Yep," the old sergeant replied. "He was lying on top of her, almost like they had just finished ... well ... fucking. They both had these big smiles on their faces, and they were both stone cold dead, rigored up hard as a brick. Wasn't a mark on either of either of them, 'cept for a bruise or two on her and a couple a nail marks on his back. Like I said before, we did send them over to the city medical examiner, but we never were given a cause of death. Strange to ... they were both really healthy, active people."
"What about the house ... when did the ghost rumors get started?" Marty had been furiously scribbling notes, and he underlined "medical examiner" three times.
"Don't really know for sure. First time I heard anything about it was a report of funny noises and some lights in the windows. Nobody was living there at the time so I went on up and took a look, but I didn't find shit."
"I can tell you this ... Clyde Harris has been trying to sell it for years. I figure he's had 10 or 15 couples rent the place, but none ever stayed for very long."
"Do you know why they wouldn't stay?"
"Nope ... Harris told me once that he never could get a straight answer out of any of them. We never had any calls about any of them, so it wasn't domestic violence or anything like that. We would still get calls from neighbors about weird noises and lights, but that was it. I'll tell you one thing though: At least two of those couples got a divorce as soon as they moved out. After awhile, folks started calling the place 'Shady Manor'."
Marty was puzzled. "Shady Manor? There aren't that many tress on the grounds."
The old sergeant cracked up and nearly choked on his coffee. "Cough ... cough ... gasp. HAHAHA. They didn't call it Shady Manor because of shade ... 'shade' used to be another word for ghost."
Marty felt yet another in a long series of chills go down his spine. "Well, thank you. You've been a big help ... I think."
=======================================
That night, Marty had a dream of his own, and it turned out to be one of the most erotic experiences of his life. In the fuzzy half world of dreams a sensuous woman crawled into his bed and went down on him. She had long dark hair that fell in waves down her face and back. She was very petite, yet had a fantastic figure on her tiny frame. She sucked him tenderly, eagerly and avidly. Her mouth was silky, wet and demanding. Her lips fluttered along his shaft and balls like the wings of a butterfly.
She made no sound at all, not even when she moved along the bed, and never looked at any part of his body except his rigid cock ... almost as if she were trying to avoid his eyes. He never did get a good look at her face. He lost track of worrying about that when she began to deep throat him, caressing and bathing and swallowing his raging hard on. The fact that her mouth seemed to be strangely cool ... almost cold in fact ... momentarily dredged up a chill of fear from somewhere in his mind. But instead of giving into the fear he surrendered to her insistent sucking and the delicious tingle of her throat around the head of his engorged member.
Soon one of her slim, cool fingers was probing delicately at his anus, inserting itself and finding his prostrate gland. The sensation was overpowering, and he shuddered from head to foot as a massive orgasm swept him up and he started to come. Think heavy gouts of come splashed against her throat and overflowed from the corners of her mouth until she caught it with her fingertips and licked it off. Just before the dream faded to darkness and he slipped back into deeper sleep, she moved up to kiss him, her face still hidden in her hair. He could feel the cool tingle of her lips on his own, and taste his come on them.
The next morning the memory of the dream was so vivid that he threw back the covers to examine the bed, sure he must have cum in his sleep. Yet the sheets were clean and dry, and so were his pajamas.
At breakfast he tentatively broached the subject with Vicky. "Did you do anything to me last night Vicky?"
"Like what?" she asked, turning from the stove where she was scrambling some eggs.
"Like go down on me. A blowjob ... while I was still asleep?"
"No way!" Then she smiled slyly. "But it's a not a bad idea. I could get even wit you for all those times you've fucked me silly when I wasn't awake."
Marty didn't say another word ... but he felt another of those chills slide down his back."
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A 40-minute drive that afternoon took him to the city and the county morgue. One of his old business cards from the magazine got him an appointment with the chief medical examiner, who readily accepted an invitation for lunch. Over a couple martinis, Marty made his confession.
"Doctor, I lied to you a little. I don't work for that magazine anymore ... this meeting is personal, not professional."
"I know," replied the M.E., "I had my secretary check you out." The M.E. gave Marty a crafty smile as he sipped his drink.
"If you knew I was a phony, why did you agree to see me?"
The M.E. waved his hand. "I figured if you were willing to fill me with food and drink, even lie, you must want something fairly important. That got my curiosity running. You also left a real name ... you wouldn't be up to any mischief if you left your real i.d. with my office. So why don't you just go ahead and ask whatever it is that's so important. I have to admit I'd like to scratch the itch you've aroused."
Marty had planned a very round about way to bring up what he really wanted, but decided now to just straight out tell the doctor what he needed. "I'd like to now if you remember Ric and Lisa Von Aden, a couple who died some years back in the Bellows Falls subdivision. What I really want to know is the cause of death."
The medical examiners eyes lit up at the mention of the name 'Von Aden'.
"Ahhhh ... them. Why do you want to know?" He leaned forward, looking down into his glass.
"My wife and I moved into their home a few months ago ... an well I just wanted to find out as much as I could about them."
"The Von Aden case has bothered me for close to 12 years, bugged the hell out of me almost every day. As medical examiner, my work is supposed to be confidential, but since you're the only person who's ever taken the trouble to inquire in all this time, I'll tell you. Truth to tell, I'd like to tell somebody ... might get it off my chest at last."
The doctor took a deep breath. "There was no cause of death."
Marty furrowed his brown in puzzlement. "No 'official' cause of death you mean."
"I meant what I said. Official, Unofficial or otherwise ... there was no cause! I've been an M.E. for nearly 30 years, and they are the only case in all that time where I couldn't find a cause of death. And believe me I looked! I even called in a buddy of mine from the FBI crime lab. We cut the bodies up so fine that the undertakers couldn't rebuild them, had to have a closed casket funeral."
The doctor took a long drink. "And we found *nothing* ... not one fucking thing! As far as we were able to tell, those two people simply stopped living. Since they didn't seem to have any enemies, and we couldn't find anything to indicate murder, I wrote it off and let them be buried. But to this day I have no idea what ended their lives. Do you?" This last was said on a slightly pleading note, as if the old M.E. was hoping Marty could at last close the case for him.
Marty shook his head. "I was hoping you could tell me. Could it have been suicide, or maybe some exotic toxin or poison."
"No," the doctor said emphatically. "I investigated the Von Adens for almost 8 months. They didn't have an enemy in the world, and they were very happy. They had a good life, lots of money, and did a lot of good with it. No reason for murder or suicide. Their one vice, if you want to call it that, was their obsession with sexual activity. They enjoyed it immensely, engaged in it several times a day from what I understand. Didn't seem to be too particular about the time or place either. Sometimes even had other couples or women up to their house for a little ... variety I guess you'd call it. But other than that than one kink ... nothing, not a thing that would indicate any reason for suicide or murder ... not a damn thing."
Marty rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then decided if any person would know, it was a coroner. "Doctor ... do you believe in ghosts? Have you ever seen any evidence of one?"
"If you expect me to laugh Mr. Mathis, you'll be disappointed. Like I said, been doing this for almost 30 years, and I've seen some very strange things. As a scientist I can't tell you've I got proof, I don't know if there are 'ghosts' ... but in my gut I'm sure that there is life beyond death. I've just seen too much not to believe otherwise. I've never seen a ghost with my own eyes mind you ... but I have heard that your house is supposed to haunted. Have *you* seen a ghost?"
"I'm not sure ... that's what I'm trying to figure out. Tell me something ... assuming there was such a thing as a ghost, do you believe a ghost could exhibit a ... a ... well a sexual appetite?"
The old doctor's eyes bulged out, and he gave a small cough. "Sorry, that time I nearly did laugh at you. I honestly don't know what to say on that one ... remember were talking about something that, if it exists, we know nothing about. But if there are ghosts, I supposed just about anything is possible."
Then the M.E.'s eyes went far away for a second. "But now that you've mentioned it, you've reminded me of something my friend from the FBI said ... just a frustrated comment he made one day. I'd forgotten all about it till now. 'Henry', he said to me, 'if I didn't know better, I'd say that the Von Adens simply fucked themselves to death!' "
=======================================
Despite how happy they were, Marty was beginning to become more than a little disturbed by all he had learned and the things that were happening.
Just like Vicky, the dream of the beautiful sexy women climbing into his bed and giving him a fantastic blowjob began to become more and more frequent. On those nights when he didn't have the dream, Marty would as often as not wake up to find that Vicky was having hers. And just like her, if Vicky were to wake him up before his dream finished he would find himself burning with lust, wanting Vicky more than ever before.
That was the one thing that was keeping Marty from telling her everything he knew so far about the Von Adens', about the night he had walked in and found her making love to someone he couldn't see, and about his own increasingly frequent dreams. Despite how wonderful the dreams were, Marty found himself wanting Vicky more and more strongly. Their love was blooming, even more so then when they had first met. They were even beginning to talk seriously about children.
In spite of the fact he never dreamed it was her that climbed into the bed with him, Marty found that his love and need for his wife was becoming ever stronger.
Yet he was becoming worried about what was happening in the house. Vicky seemed to be able to ignore it, or at least to seem to ignore it around Marty. He was too afraid to bring it up with her, and she didn't seem to have any desire to do so.
It was two events that spurred him on to try to find out, once and for all, what was going on.
=======================================
The first was that his dream started to change. For one thing it become more and more realistic; it stopped having that fuzzy quality of unreality that dreams so often have. For another, the women in his dreams stopped just giving him head. In fact the first time it happened, Marty was so surprised that he nearly woke up ... but found that he couldn't quite seem to get out of the dream. She had crawled into bed as usual, but then she had reached under it, and had pulled out two of the ropes that he and Vicky had found in the hidden closet. She had quickly tied his hands to the headboard, and then had begun as usual to give him a fantastic blowjob.
But this time instead of letting him cum in her mouth, she had moved to straddle him, and then had sunk her soft wet folds around him. He had gasped in the dream, for her pussy was as chill as her mouth, but the sensation was just too much for him to resist. It was a soft, tight sleeve that grasped and gripped him in its chilly embrace. The feeling was fantastic, and soon he had been helplessly humping back to meet her own thrusts, their bodies crashing together in need.
After only a few moments Marty could not hang on any longer, and with a loud groan he came deep inside her. For the first time, Marty heard a soft moan come from the woman's mouth, so quiet that he could not be sure he heard it, but it certainly sounded like a woman in the throws of a powerful orgasm. Her cool pussy gripped and squeezed, milking him of ever last drop.
She fell across his chest, her chill body pressed to his own. She kissed his cheek and then moved to gently kiss his lips. For the very first time, Marty got a good look at her face. She was several years older than he had expected, late 40's, perhaps even early 50's. But she was also very pretty ... her maturity showed in her eyes, not in her face, which had that quality that older women can sometimes have. She did not look young ... nor did she look old ... she had a sort of timeless beauty. There was also a spark of irrepressible mischief on that face that showed in the laugh lines around the eyes and a very naughty smile.
She gave him another kiss, then she bent to his ear and this time Marty clearly heard her speak, though it was the barest of whispers. "Thank you," she said in a ghostly little whisper that sent a cool breeze past his ear.
At that point Marty awoke ... thought it was not with a start, just a gentle awakening. He didn't bother to check the sheets ... he knew there would be no wetness on them. Vicky lay asleep beside him, her gentle snores telling him that he hadn't woken her up.
The fact that the dream had changed disturbed him ... the loving and beautiful nature of the dream thrilled him. Unable to decide whether he was more enthralled or worried, he cuddled up close to his wife, loving the feel of her body pressed to his. He lay starting at the sealing for the rest of the night.
=======================================
The second disturbing event occurred a few days later. He had finished up with some developing, and decided to go up and see what Vicky had been painting. There were various canvases she had been getting ready for her new show, and Marty was interested to see what she was doing for it.
He moved quietly, knowing she didn't like to be disturbed when painting, peeking through the door to see the various paintings hanging on the walls. There was a mix of things; landscapes, abstracts, still lives ... all of them were a marked improvement on those that she had done before. Just as their new life here was helping him to write, Vicky's paintings were blossoming.
She saw him there, and waved him into the room to see what she was working on. On the easel was a portrait of a man and a woman, stilling on the bench that was in the flower garden. They were looking into each other's faces, their love for each other evident in every line of face, body and eyes.
Marty felt his blood go cold when he saw them. "Very beautiful love ... but were did you get the idea for this? Who did you use as subjects?"
"Well," she said with a bit of a blush, "the man is the guy I keep seeing in my dreams. I hope you don't mind ... I mean they're only dreams ... it's you I love."
He kissed her forehead, trying to still the chill that had come over him. "No love ... I'm not jealous of a dream. At least he looks like a nice guy ... it would be a bit unnerving if you were dreaming of the hunchback of Notre Dame." He tried to chuckle, but couldn't quite pull it off.
He didn't really want to know the answer to his next question ... but found that he couldn't help but ask. "Where did the woman come from love?" he asked, pointing to the tiny brunette curled up beside the man.
"I don't know ... just out of my imagination I suppose. I was thinking of how good things had been between us these last couple of months and I guess that sort of crept into the painting when I decided to paint him. I've never seen her before, but she just seemed to fit so well in the painting that I kept going."
Marty started at the women, feeling the chill in his spine growing stronger.
"What's wrong hon," Vicky asked, "is something bothering you? Don't you like it?"
Marty gave himself a shake, forcing himself to smile at Vicky. "No ... nothing's wrong. I just got a strange sense of de ja vu." He gave her a kiss. "It's truly beautiful work love ... the best you've ever done."
She gave him a kiss and hug, then turned to finish the work. Marty left her to it, too disturbed to stay and watch any longer. He didn't like lying to Vicky ... but he felt sure it would not have been good to just drop a bombshell on her.
He knew the woman in the portrait ... he knew her very well. She was the woman from his dreams, right down to the mischief filled eyes.
=======================================
The next day Marty went over to the university. A few careful questions (and a couple of twenty-dollar bills) sent him in the direction of the university's religious department. A few more questions led him to William Dancing Water, who turned out to be a full-blooded Sue Indian. Professor Dancing Water was the university's expert on myths and spirituality. Not as in religion, but as in spirits and ghosts. He taught several classes on myths and legends, including various after life religious beliefs from several different cultures.
Now that Marty had the closest thing to a expert on ghosts that he could find, he found it hard to begin to ask what had brought him here. As it turned out ... he didn't have to. He danced around the subject, asking questions about various ghost legends, until Professor Dancing Water brought him up short.
"So," the Professor said, "why don't you just ask me what really brought you here?"
"That obvious hun?" Marty asked.
"Well you're jumpy as a frog on a skillet, and you're asking questions you could have found in any good book on myths. Not hard to see there's something you want, but you don't know how to ask. Don't feel stupid Mr. Mathis ... I get a lot of strange questions and query's ... just go ahead and ask."
Marty took a deep breath and then plunged right in. "Are there really such things as ghosts ... and can they ... interact ... with living people?"
"Hmmm ... well that one might take a while ... lets get some food and coffee."
The professor took Marty to a coffee bar frequented by the university students ... one where they could have a little privacy.
"Okay, first off my name is Bill, Not Professor Dancing Water ... that's my father."
"The short answer is 'yes, there are ghosts'. But it's a lot more complex then that. What white people call ghosts, my people call spirits. The first thing you have to know is that not all spirits were once people ... some have always been spirits. So if you think you've got a ghost, you might have a spirit and not the soul of a once living being."
Marty gave his head a small shake. "No ... if I'm not going crazy then what's happening in my house is the ghost of a person .... make that persons. I think my house is haunted ... by two ghosts actually. Oh ... and my name is Marty."
Bill gave his head a small shake. "Damn I hate all those horror movies ... make every spirit look like it's some evil beast out to destroy the world. Marty ... haunted is not really an accurate word. Well it can be, but until I know a bit more, lets just say your house is visited okay?"
Marty nodded, relieved to find somebody who seemed to take 'spirits' seriously.
"The university doesn't really like me talking about this too much to the students ... worried that they'll get sued for having a professor teaching his religion to the students. I'm a Shaman Marty ... a sort of spiritual guide for my people, or for anybody who wants to interact with the other world that is all around us."
"You see, there are always spirits around us Marty ... most people just don't know it. The vast majority are not good or evil, they just are. Most of them are more like guides ... they can teach you things about the world and yourself, though sometimes you learn things you'd rather not know. They usually don't interact directly with our world, they guide us and shape our way of looking at things sometimes. We call them totems, though Hollywood has distorted what that really means."
"I think I understand," Marty said, "I have been doing a bit of reading. But I don't think that's what's happening at my house. It sure doesn't feel like what you're describing."
"Okay, well then what you may have is a departed spirit ... the soul of a once living person. Now this can be a bit tricky too." Bill took a deep breath.
"Hollywood has made it look like all 'ghosts' are lost souls who want to move on to the next world but don't know how ... that just isn't true. There are just about as many reasons for souls to stick around as there are souls in the first place. Just about the only thing they all have in common is that some strong emotional tie binds them to this reality."
"Now that doesn't mean anything bad necessarily. Oh sure there are some souls that stuck around for revenge, just like in the movies. Usually those ones are those people who were murdered or killed unjustly, and they just won't leave until they have resolved those issues. Now sometimes they get hateful at the living, but most times it's focused on a specific person or place, not on anybody who happens by."
Marty just kept drinking his coffee, listening intently to the Shaman's words.
"But love is just as strong an emotion as hate ... stronger even because it binds two people to each other. So often a 'ghost' as you people call them stays here because they are waiting for somebody ... somebody they love. Or they had a place they loved, and are just not willing to go yet. They aren't actually stuck here ... they could go anytime they wanted, but they love life and the world of the living, and so they stay."
"They can even be helpful, especially if they love a particular person. That's where 'guardian spirits' come from ... they help and protect the people they love. Parents sometimes stick around like that if they die before children are grown. They stay to help protect and guide them, even though most times the people being protected don't even know it."
Marty interrupted at that point. "Well whatever is happening at my house, I certainly know about it. I keep seeing things in my dreams, and I find things moved and disturbed, and sometimes I hear things. So does my wife. Not all the time, but it's been growing more and more frequent."
Bill looked up, alarm on his face. "Has anything bad or damaging happened? Have you been having trouble sleeping because of noise or that 'it' won't let you sleep? Anyone been hurt.?"
Marty felt a chill at the alarm in Bill's eyes. "No ... just the opposite in fact. To be honest, except for all the weirdness, I and my wife have been very happy since moving in to the house."
Bill arched an eyebrow, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well then, that sounds like the spirit ... or spirits ... of your house are the friendly type. What makes you so sure that they are souls, and not some nature spirit of your house?"
"Well, you're not the first person I've talked to about this. You see I found out that the couple that built this place died about 12 years ago in the house. Ever since, no one has stayed long in the house ... we're just about the longest lasting tenants so far. And considering what's been going on, can't say I blame people for leaving. If we didn't love the place so much, I'm pretty sure I'd be long gone."
"What about you're wife," Bill asked, "she feel the same way?"
"Well I haven't told her all the things I know ... she just thinks she's having some ... strange dreams." Marty was not about to tell this man about the contents of those dreams.
"Hmmm ... well sounds right so far. And you're sure nothing nasty has happened, no breaking windows, no awful sounds at night, no nightmares ... nothing like that?"
Marty shook his head. "No ... nothing like that at all. The sounds are usually very quiet ... they don't always wake me up. And the dreams are really very pleasant." That was as far as Marty was prepared to go about the contents of his dreams.
"What can you tell me about the couple. I don't mean looks or anything ... but how they were as a pair?" Bill had his eyes closed, and was leaning back against his seat.
"I checked them out ... Lisa and Ric Von Aden. He used to teach here as a matter of fact. From everything I can find out, they were very good people. Not saints certainly, but they did a lot of charity work, took in foster kids and orphans and things like that. They were well liked, well respected ... and they were very deeply in love."
Bill nodded, his eyes still closed. "You said they died in the house ... how did it happen? What killed them."
Marty had borrowed a copy of the corner's report, and he passed it over to Bill. Bill read it for a few minutes, then leaned back again and closed his eyes. "These dreams of yours ... do you interact with these spirits? Do they touch you at all, or talk to you?"
Marty cleaned his throat self-consciously. "Well yes ... they touch us, though it wasn't until recently that the woman 'spirit' began to talk to me. "
"Do they leave any physical signs behind? Marks, bruises, sweat, water, flowers ... anything at all?"
Marty could feel his face flushing. "Well so far nothing has happened to me ... but my wife has complained about a bruise or two from time to time. Nothing nasty, not like she was hit ... just ... well just a bruise okay?" Marty found it really embarrassing to talk about this with a near total stranger.
Bill sat up, then looked Marty in the eyes, as if he were sizing something up. Then he sighed.
"Well ... except for the dreams, it almost most sounds like Sharing," he said.
"Sharing", Marty repeated, "what does that mean?"
"Well it means that one or more of the 'spirits' in your house may be placing itself in your body and Sharing what you feel.
"What?!" Marty yelped, "You mean we're being possessed?"
"Calm down," the Shaman said, "I didn't say possession, I said Sharing. There's a big difference between the two."
"All Sharing means is that a spirit comes into your body ... it doesn't mean that it takes over. When a malevolent spirit tries to take over your body, *that's* possession." He took a deep breath, finished off his coffee, and continued.
"You see, as much as they love this world ... spirits can not feel most of it. They can effect it, but they can't feel it. They can touch & feel living beings that have a soul, though most times that person won't feel it. Heck, a spirit can't even touch another spirit. The only way they can feel anything for themselves is to inhabit a living body. When they do that, they can feel everything that person feels. But you probably wouldn't even know that they were there."
"Now some spirits are malevolent and they do try to take over, but most just want to feel alive for awhile again. Most times they do it so they can feel the person they love ... they'll 'hop' into the body so they can not only touch them, but to feel alive again. It's all the better if they love that person."
Bill ordered some more coffee for them both, then took a long sip. "And it's not just for feeling flesh again either ... imagine not being able to taste or smell good coffee? They could be with you when you're eating, having a smoke, just plain walking around the house. There are a lot of things that the spirits would like to experience. By sharing your body, they can feel everything you feel."
"From what you've told me, these two loved each other more than anything else in the world. When they died, whatever the cause was, neither was willing to leave the other. They probably didn't realize they had both died, or they would have moved on together. Now they still have each other, and the house they loved, but since they both died, they are not able to touch each other anymore. They may be using your bodies so that they can touch for a brief time."
Bill reached across and took Marty's hand. "There's nothing evil in it Marty, there is even some beauty in it. They loved each so much that they defied death itself to stay together. Now you've come along and given them a chance to physically touch again. I know it's probably pretty frightening to you ... but in a way you should feel honored."
Marty thought that over for a minute ... it sounded okay, but it didn't seem to fit exactly what had been happening to him and Vicky. "There's something wrong with that idea though. Whenever I have one of these dreams, I don't see Vicky ... or see myself as Ric Von Aden. I'm myself, and I see a woman whom I've never met in my life. And as far as I know, it's the same for my wife. Wouldn't we be seeing each other, and these spirits share what we are feeling?"
Bill thought that over for a bit. "Hmmm ... well like I told you, they could be sharing your bodies and you wouldn't be aware of it. If that is what is happening, they most likely would jump in while your awake ... otherwise all they would get to experience would be a comfortable bed. They might do it once or twice, but certainly they'd get more out of it if they Shared while you were both awake."
Marty accepted that ... though not without some problems. It was more than just a little frightening to think that at this moment, his wife might have another soul sharing her body. It was even more frightening to think that at times he may have been host for an unexpected guest of his own.
But that still left one question unanswered.
"But what about the dreams we're having? I could believe that it's just my subconscious reacting to having another ... soul ... Sharing my body, but we're both having the same kind of dreams."
"Well like I said, a spirit can feel and touch a living being, so long as that being has a soul, it's just unusual for that person to be aware that they are being touched." The Shaman thought this over for a bit ... then he looked at Marty and shrugged. "What can I say ... maybe it's more than Sharing ... maybe they *like* you two."
=======================================
That night Marty had his by-now-standard dream. Again the beautiful brunette sucked him until he was hard as a rock, then she mounted him and rode him until he was drained dry. Again the coolness of her mouth and pussy brought momentary fear, which was almost immediately overwhelmed by the breathtaking sensations of her slurping tongue, grasping folds, and probing fingers. Again she moaned deep in her throat as he pumped what seemed like gallons of thick cum deep inside her.
Finally Marty knew he had to ask Vicky about it ... had to know if it were just his imagination or something else.
"No, I didn't do anything to you. And I think you're taking this a little too far Marty. I'm not sure I like being fucked and not being awake enough to really enjoy it. You did it again last night."
She arched her neck, to show him a large purple spot on her throat. "You even gave me a hicky," she said with a grin.
Marty took a deep breath, and then plunged into it. "I didn't make love to you last night ... I never even woke up until this morning."
Vicky started at him for a moment, then she took his hand and tasted his fingers, one by one. She smiled at him, a slightly bemused expression her face. "Well I sure didn't do it myself."
"I know," Marty said. "But I didn't make love to you last night, or most of those other nights either."
Vicky gave him a puzzled look. "Well someone sure as hell did!"
Marty looked her dead in the eyes. "Or some *thing*," he said quietly.
The smile vanished from Vicky's face. "What are you talking about?"
He took a deep breath, then told her everything. About watching her at night. About his conversations with the police sergeant, the medical examiner, and Bill Dancing Water. He told her about how his own dreams had become more realistic and more involved. And lastly he told her about the woman in her painting, how she was an exact match for the woman in his dreams.
"I don't like this at all Marty." She was close to tears. "What are trying to tell me?"
"I'll tell you what I think," he said. "I think Ric and Lisa Von Aden were very much in love. They enjoyed each other's bodies tremendously, and they loved this house and all that they did here. I think their ghosts live in this house, and they're lonely and ... well ... horny!"
"Ric has been screwing you almost every night, and when we didn't leave, Lisa finally got up the courage or the ability to come to me. "
"Then after awhile I'll bet they started to hop into our bodies, so that they could touch each other again, and not just us. That explains those moans from the guest bedroom. Lisa is there at night doing herself. It also explains why sometimes her moans matched yours when you'd masturbate in your sleep, or whenever you had your dream. She was Sharing your body, so she could feel what Ric was doing to you. She's hot and frustrated. So is Ric probably, and I'll bet whenever I had my dream and you were awake, you could hear him groaning in the next room couldn't you?"
Vicky didn't answer, but her eyes told him that he was right.
"I think that when we didn't run away, they actually got to like us ... not just use us as a way to take care of their own frustrations. They liked having us here, enjoyed our company ... that's why the dreams didn't stop. They didn't just want each other ... they also wanted companions and friends. We haven't been dreaming Vicky ... we've been making love ... to ghosts!"
Vicky had gone very pale. "I don't believe it," she whispered. "I won't believe it. That just can't happen can it?" Her eyes pleaded for her husband to say 'no'.
"I think it can ... and it has. That's why none of the other tenants before us would stay in the house. The Von Adens are looking for a couple to join them ... to be their friends and their lovers and to Share this house with them. The others became frightened or sickened at what was happening and left."
Marty then took out the last thing that he had gotten from the university ... a picture of the Von Adens from an old year book. It was a good picture of them, taken at some kind of banquet. He put it down in front of Vicky, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw it.
"Oh shit," she cried, her voice close to a whine of fear, "that's the man from my dreams! And that woman .... "
"Yeah love ... it's the same woman from your painting ... the one you just 'made up'. I'll bet either Ric or Lisa was in your body while you were painting, and the love they felt for each other came through and you painted her without even knowing it."
"She's also the women from my dreams Vicky ... a perfect match in fact. This photo was taken just a few months before they died. These are exactly the same people from our dream honey ... only now I'm sure they weren't dreams."
Marty would have said more, but Vicky suddenly held up her hand for silence.
"Listen," she said, "do you hear something?"
They both listened, but heard nothing. It felt as if the house, or something in it, was eavesdropping, waiting to see what they would do."
"I think it's the Von Adens," Marty said. "They must know we've figured it out, and they're waiting to see our reaction."
Vicky eyes filled with tears, and Marty could feel his own heart beating with fear.
"Oh Christ Marty ... lets get the hell out of here!"
The two of them all but ran from the house. But going out the door, they both experienced an uncanny, painful sensation of deep sorrow that seemed to come from inside the dwelling.
=======================================
They drove around the suburbs and the city until well past dark, saying little, thinking a lot. Finally, Vicky laid a hand on Marty's arm. "This may sound insane honey, but I want to go back."
Marty smiled sheepishly. "I've been trying to find a way to say the same to you for the last hour," he said, turning the wheel towards home.
=======================================
They lay in bed together for hours, unable to sleep. "I wonder what will happen now that they know we know," Vicky whispered. "Will it stop?"
"I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see." He looked over at his wife, thinking again just how much he loved her. "Do you want it to stop?"
She thought about that for a few minutes. "I'm not sure."
It was dawn before sleep overwhelmed them, and they both slept until 3 the next afternoon. Marty was at the table, eating strawberries and cream when Vicky came downstairs. Her robe was open, and the nipples of her quivering breasts bounced into view as she joined him. Marty felt his cock begin to harden as he watched her.
"I think I met Lisa last night," Vicky said, rubbing her crotch. "You're right ... she has a very talented tongue."
"How was it," Marty asked.
She thought about it for a while. "It was very good, even though I wasn't really awake. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but it was some of the best I've ever had. And yet it made me want you even more ... just like with Ric."
"Go on," Marty said, pushing his chair back and drawing Vicky in from of him. She leaned back against the edge of the table as his hands slipped inside her robe to stroke her hips and thighs while his lips nuzzled her belly. "What did Lisa do?"
Vicky blushed. "She did things with her mouth. She kissed me."
"Where?" Marty asked. He went to his knees, burying his face between Vicky's legs, flicking out his tongue to tickle and caresses her belly button.
"My pussy!" Vicky moaned, pushing on his head. "She ate my pussy!"
Marty smiled, and flicked his tongue down from her button, kissing and licking the quivering flesh, until his tongue flicked out to caress the moist lips inside her slit.
Vicky's eyes closed and she leaned back farther, spreading her legs. Grabbing a fistful of Marty's hair, she pushed his head into her soft folds, grinding herself down onto his thrusting tongue.
"Lisa ate me out like that. Oh ... oooooh yessss ... more ... more!"
Marty found the glistening nub of her clit, bulging and aroused. He circled it with his lips, then nibbled on it ravenously.
"She did that too," Vicky whispered, sagging against her husbands face. "Her mouth was cool, like Ric's cock, as if she had been sucking on ice. It felt fantastic against my lips and clit!"
Now the robe was slipping from her shoulders and sliding to the floor. She supported herself on the table with her hands, draping her legs over Marty's shoulders. He probed deeply with his tongue, smearing his face and mouth with his wife's juices.
"Her tongue was like a snake." Vicky's lustful voice was almost unrecognizable. "It went everywhere. It made me come, over and over and over."
She lay back on the table, her legs spread wide. Marty stood tall, taking his own raging prick in his hand, guiding it to her dripping opening. He wanted to tease her with it, to extend their pleasure, but the second he touched her hot wet lips, he couldn't hold back. With a loud grunt he slammed into her, a loud slurping sound coming from between her legs.
He leaned forward to kiss her, and her tongue worked its way over is face, licking her own juices form his cheeks. He fucked her fiercely, his balls slapping against her butt. All the while, she chanted in a whisper, "Lisa, Lisa ... oh baby do me. Do me!"
Groping blindly with one hand, Vicky found Marty's half full bowl of strawberries and cream. She took the bowl and dumped it over herself, rubbing the cream around her breasts and belly. Most of the strawberries tumbled off onto the table and floor, but some stayed stuck in the cream, one taking up a perch in her bellybutton.
Marty could feel a massive orgasm building in his balls, and he began to pant in a pattern that was very familiar to Vicky.
"No!" she cried. "No ... not inside me. On me! I want to watch it and feel it and taste it!"
Her words, so hot and sexy, sent Marty over the edge. With a loud groan he slid his cock out of her and onto her cream slick belly as he started to come. He shook from head to foot, crying out his pleasure as he pumped and pumped, spurting the milky liquid onto her breasts. It trailed down her body to gather around the strawberry in the hollow of her navel.
She gripped his prick and squeezed, forcing out the last drops. Her other hand roamed over her own body, gathering up gobs of the cream and strawberry laced cum. She plucked the strawberry from her navel, and then ate it, licking eagerly at her fingers to clean the sticky mixture from them.
Panting with pleasure and exhaustion, Marty supported himself with his elbows on the table, kissing Vicky with a passion and love that was amazing, even after all their years together. He was both amazed at the animal-like ferocity of their lovemaking and delighted by their newfound sensuality and abandon. Finally he got his breath back, and he began to straighten up.
Then they both felt it ... a sensation of something moving within them, and then away, as if something had been gently pulled or shifted from within them. Both of them gave a slight shudder as a chill ran over their skin, thought it was actually a somewhat pleasant sensation.
As they both got up, Marty gave Vicky a playful slap on her butt, and she reached down to give his a squeeze, her nails digging in slightly.
He took her in his arms, kissing her tenderly, his love for her like a warm fire deep inside him.
"Have you noticed the change in us these last few weeks?" she said.
"Yes ... we're more relaxed ... more in love ... closer than we've ever been. More like a husband and wife should be. Even our work is better ... more sure and confident." He kissed her again, hugging her close.
She looked up at him. "You don't think it's because of ... " she left the question hanging.
"I don't know. Maybe it's their gift to us. Maybe it's just because we *have* grown closer ... maybe it because we love this house as much as they did. I don't know ... and I don't really care. I'm just delighted it happened."
They kissed deeply once more, reveling in the feel of each other, and in the fact that their soul's were united as never before in their lives.
"I do know one thing though," Marty said decisively after breaking their kiss.
"Oh ... what's that?" she asked him.
"Get your closes on," he said walking briskly to their bedroom to get his own clothes.
"Why ... Marty ... what is it you know?"
"I know that we're buying this place!"
=======================================
It took the entire day to arrange the papers with a delighted Clyde Harris, and it was dark by the time Marty and Vicky returned to the house. But instead of a dark house, they returned to see a soft light flickering in the windows.
When they stepped inside, the place seemed cheerful – almost happy. On the kitchen table, two lighted candles were surrounded by a display of cheese, crackers and wine. They looked at each other and smiled.
"Ric and Lisa know," Marty said. "I think they’re contented. Are you?"
"I'm not sure," Vicky said, "ask me again in the morning."
They each took a glass of wine and went upstairs. At the door to the master bedroom, Vicky turned, leaning against the wall. "I'm nervous ... more nervous than last night. This is almost embarrassing. How could we ever explain this to anyone?"
"Who'd believe us if we did?" Marty asked.
Suddenly, they both heard the sound of the zipper being lowered at the back of Vicky's dress. Through the light fabric, Marty could see his wife's nipples begin to harden with excitement. She shivered, her arm pointing to the slowly opening door of the guest bedroom. "I guess it's supposed to be swap night," she said, her voice quivering with a mixture of lust and nervousness. Then she gave a soft moan, arching her body as if someone where standing behind her and playing with her breasts. Her eyes closed, and she moved slowly into the master bedroom.
As Marty walked into the guest bedroom, he heard a ghostly, yet unmistakably feminine sigh of longing and pleasure. The door closed softly behind him, the candles flickering in a breeze he could not feel.
FINI