Haunted Ch 02

It was not late when I arrived at my hotel that evening, but night came quickly to those northern latitudes at that desolate time of year and frosty darkness cloaked the thick, leafy borders and high hedges of the hotel grounds.

I was booked-in by a quiet, busty blonde. It had been a long day; training had been intense and if she gave an appraising glance to the dark, athletic guest in soiled sports gear then I was too tired to notice. I wanted room, shower and bed in that order. Unusually -- for I am fastidious about such things -- I had not showered directly after the session, eager to get to my lodgings. I had waved goodbye to the boys; leaving them to their banter as they vanished bare-arsed into the steamy envelope of the wash rooms and shouldering my bag I left them to it.

"Room 302 sir, on the third floor. Turn left out of the lift and through the double doors. Breakfast is served in the restaurant from seven until nine-thirty in the morning."

The girl gave a small, tight-lipped smile dimpling her cheeks. As she leaned forward to push the heavy key across the counter, her blouse fell open slightly, revealing her ample breasts. Where the plump flesh nestled into the restraining fabric of her brassiere I glimpsed the smooth pink skin texture and darken.

In the cramped confines of the lift I stretched and massaged the aching muscles of my neck and shoulders. If I had been with someone -- and they had asked me -- I might have confessed then to a feeling of apprehension, a slight thrill of unease through my tired body. As it was, it passed almost unnoticed striking me as nothing out of the ordinary. This was an old building, eighteenth or perhaps even seventeenth century and you never knew quite what you were going to get, accustomed as we all are now to the bland homogeny of modern hotel chains.

I walked the dark and antiquely furnished hallway to my room, fumbling for a minute with a stiff lock before stepping through the warped and creaking door.

Whew! The room was like a furnace! I threw my bag into a corner and groped for the light switch, already starting to remove my clothes. In the glow of fake oil-lamps I drew off my shirt, kicked off my trainers and slid my shorts and boxers down my legs, stepping out of them I crossed to the window. I opened the casement and stood for a moment, letting the chill night air raise goose bumps over my chest and over the ridged muscles of my naked abdomen.

Heading for the bathroom, I absorbed the details of the room. It seemed fine -- opulent even, with no trace of the neglect or decay that I had quietly feared. The hard surfaces gleamed, the carpets were soft and thick, the decor tasteful if darker and more sombre than was the fashion.

Dominating the room was a huge bed, crisp and clean looking with thick covers and an imposing wooden headboard. As a nod to modernity a TV, phone and PC were perched upon a huge sideboard facing the bed; mute, blank voyeurs; waiting, expectant.

The hiss of the shower, the smell of scented soap and the bliss of the hot water against my skin, I lathered-up quickly and then rinsed off slowly beneath the powerful jet. I could feel my body begin to unwind as the suds cascaded from my head and shoulders down my back into the tight fold of my buttocks.

I turned off the shower and reached for a towel, looking to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror opposite. White towelling brushed over hard, tanned skin feeling soft and warm but the mirror was steam-clouded and opaque. Soon though, as moisture condensed enough to trickle down the glass I was revealed; broad shoulders, lean hips and my long, thick cock swinging heavily between my thighs with every movement.

My size has always been the subject of friends' and team mates' dubious wit but, sincerely, I have always been a little shy of it. I was twenty-four years old, at the time, from a sheltered background. From age fifteen, sport had dominated my life and I had only had five lovers -- two of those one-night stands. But none of them, with either relish or apprehension or a delicious mixture of both, had failed to appreciate my fullness.

Thoughts of past loves stirred me. Briefly I glanced to the basin where the little jars of complimentary lotions stood in a row. It was a habit of mine occasion to take advantage of lotion, mirror and solitude to masturbate; slowly working my hand over my smooth cock, watching it swell and rise, teasing it with soft touches around the shining head and then pumping it, working it hard from the base, seeing how my balls swung with the firm motion. At such times I would admire my length and girth and indulge myself fully as I waited for the intense, thigh-trembling release and the welcome flood, spattering onto polished marble.

But that evening tiredness ruled and shaking my head at my reflection I walked to the bedroom.

Intense cold hit me like a physical barrier making me shiver, making my nipples tighten to tiny, prickling knots. What was happening? The room had been stifling just minutes before.

"Please, my lord..."

As I closed the casement I thought I heard a voice, a woman's voice, accented and breathless with longing. Perhaps a TV in an adjacent room...

Still shivering with the inexplicable plunge in temperature I drew on a pair of silk shorts to cover my nakedness. Not loose but not overly tight, the sheer material stretched over my hips and enfolded my manhood, clinging to my skin where it was still wet from the shower. With the window closed the atmosphere improved and, at last, I lay upon the bed in cool, creaking silence.

Behind my heavy eyelids, images began to form. There was a man and a woman and they appeared to be in a room very similar, if not the same as my own. The woman was dressed like a maidservant from a bygone era, with full skirts, white apron and lace cap. Sitting upon the edge of the bed, she was young and lovely with a dark, Hispanic beauty that was innate, vital and striking without the aid of cosmetics. Seemingly distressed, she clutched at the man who stood looming over her.

This man wore the boots, breeches and ornate jacket of a cavalry officer. He was masked in a black velvet mask that resembled a snarling wolf. It was the kind of thing that noblemen wore to society dances in times past but the comic snarl was lent an air of genuine menace by the man's powerful size and his bearing; legs braced, hands on hips, a riding whip quivering in one huge fist. I did not hear her voice again but I watched entranced as, like an actress in a silent movie reel, she pleaded with the implacable officer.

Suddenly she tore open the bodice of her dress, baring her pert indignant breasts. Cupping her hands beneath, she thrust them forward, craving the man's touch. But, aside from the twitching crop, he did not move a muscle even when she took hold of the dark peaks of her nipples; rolling and pinching them until they stood up, angry and swollen in the light that came spilling through an opening in the heavy drapes.

The girl's hands slithered down below her narrow waist to seize the fastenings of her skirt. Trembling from head to foot she opened them, spreading the dark fabric aside so that the man eye's, through the mask's slits, could feast upon her shapely, stockinged legs and thighs. She wore french knickers -- the thin silk pale against the expanse of dark flesh above her stocking tops. As he watched, she parted her legs and began to tease herself through the fabric with one hand; rubbing her palm against her pubic bone and stroking her long fingers along the crease beneath. Her other hand reached up for him, urgently massaging his crotch through the white military breeches. He made as if to slap her away but she persisted and his hands returned to his hips.

I could see the gusset of her knickers becoming dark and wet as her fingers fell into rhythm. Her gaze however was intent upon her other hand and the bulge in the officer's trews, which swelled at her insistent touch. The man still did not move but perspiration was soaking into his collar. The crop snapped against his booted foot and his head kept twitching toward the bedroom door.

The girl left her soaking gusset and put both hands to work on the officer. In an instant she had unbuttoned and freed his cock. Ramrod straight and gleaming like polished wood it jutted at her, inches from her sulky, pouting mouth. The man made a final gesture toward the door before he caved in to her, grasping his shaft, pumping his hand along its length and guiding it toward her lips.

But she pulled away from him, sliding back up the bed, squirming out of her skirts and panties as she did so. She was smiling at him and a gleam of triumph sparked in her luscious lash-framed eyes. She had the upper hand now; he was in her power and she was going to make him suffer.

She dipped her fingers in a pewter goblet that stood on the night-stand and lifting her knees and spreading herself wide open before him she applied the fluid to her already wet and glistening pussy. Her fingers with their neat pink nails traced around her opening, slowly at first then faster, coating herself with the wine and her own running juices. Her head rolled back on her exquisite neck as she pushed her fingers greedily inside, stroking the dark lips apart and sinking first one and then two of them inside of her and working them in and out.

Avidly the man drank her with his eyes, masturbating but making no move as yet to sink his swollen member into her hot flesh. It was clear that this was a familiar game between them. I just hoped he was building himself to fuck her, not to beat her with the whip.

The girl abandoned herself to the pressure of her fingers and then suddenly she was rotating upon the huge bed to position herself on all fours, presenting the man with a pair of delicious rounded buttocks.

Raising herself high she spread and rubbed herself, urgently now, demanding that he see her. She dipped her fingers deep in her pussy once more and traced a wet halo around the dark pucker of her asshole before returning to her aching clit, using two fingers moving in tight circles to give herself the pleasure that he would not. She clearly wanted him so badly now, wanted his whip or his tongue or the formidable glistening cock that the man worked over with such menacing control...

I sat up, suddenly awake upon the bed in my room. The dream clung on at the periphery of my waking senses. I felt my erection, warm and thick in the crotch of my shorts.

"Please, now... please!"

Her voice was right there, in the room, in my ear pleading with a hopeless, timeless longing. And then I sensed her! Right in front of my face, I felt her heat. My rapid breaths came bouncing back at me as though something hovered just inches from my nose.

"Please, lend me your lips and tongue. I will be your whore, I will take you deep into my throat, I will buck and ride you like a wanton slut if you will just give me what I need. Please sir, pleasure me there..."

And I did not hesitate. I did not pause to think or fear or rationalise, so overwhelming was the desire in her silky, sultry voice. I leaned forward. She smelled of leather and nut oil and I buried my tongue deeply, as though into her hot soaking cunt.

I lapped her, I explored her slowly, I thrilled her with delicate flurries of tantalising quickness. Sensations washed over me, the feel over her bubbling silky flesh on my mouth, the way her outer lips parted over the bridge of my nose as she bucked her hips against me. I could taste her sweetness flooding over my tongue and down the back of my throat; the flavour and feelings reminding me of peaches and oysters; olives, mango and wine vinegar. She had known cruelty and I wanted to bring her pleasure, to make her forget, to make her sigh and moan and come and come...

But then she was gone; I was alone in the room once more, awkwardly propped on my elbows on the huge, soft bed. A breeze stirred the curtains and cooled my straining body.

I was panting hard and sweating. My erection was enormous. It had escaped my CK's and the bulbous, shining head poked from the waistband, hiding my belly button as it throbbed against the taught muscles of my abdomen. I longed to sink it into her wet and yielding flesh. To bathe its length in a warm, tight tunnel of desire. To feel a yearning, eager tongue wrap it and lick it and crave the torrent that I longed to release.

I thought of the words she had whispered and my cock responded instantly, twitching urgently with the blood that pumped along its length. It was so hard it ached, but she had gone, what was I to do?

Upon the desk opposite, The PC flickered to life. Nothing else moved within the darkened bedroom and the silence was total. I watched with consternation and then increasing arousal, as a messaging window appeared and words began to crawl across the screen...

***