Sara's free hand cupped his sack and gently rolled his testes over her fingers. Her head was bobbing rapidly, eager to finish him off, and not prolong the sexual encounter longer than need be. She could feel some moisture building between her own thighs and knew that is she went too long she would need immediate relief and with another guest in the home she didn't want to risk it.
With a drawn out and pronounced slurp on the tip of his prick, she felt the familiar pulse in the base of his shaft. Several sprays of cum quickly fluttered down the back of her mouth. Allen thrust forward burying his penis in her throat and causing her to gag on the intrusion. Still more of his fluids poured into her stomach as he finished off his orgasm.
"You are the best cocksucker, baby," he groaned as he pulled his cock from her lips. "I think we'll need to get one of these things for home," he added as he freed the metal ring from her mouth.
"We can just take this one," Sara said with a sly grin as she wiped a little dribble of his semen from her lips. "You seemed to enjoy it enough. Now get your pants back on and get back to work."
The rest of the packing was rather uneventful. It took a few more hours to get everything boxed, sorted, and moved downstairs. Louise had finished with the larger rooms and had documented all the larger furniture pieces and some short descriptions of the items that would have some value. All that remained were the upstairs den and her parents' room. She knew this would be most challenging. Louise was in she and her sister's old room documenting and photographing furniture or items that would be sold at auction.
Allen was moving out clothing, shoes, and other miscellaneous items from the room. The day had passed quickly by and he was looking rather tired. The last inklings of sunlight were beginning to disappear in the horizon and the sky was darkening up. The sun was just beginning to set on the last day of October and she could tell that he was eager to be done with this stage in their life together.
They had started dating after an encounter at a Halloween party in their sophomore year at college and the year prior they had gone home on their one year anniversary to break the news of their engagement to their friends and family. The pair had arranged a big costume bash for the evening to try and make the announcement a little more fun and celebrate the occasion in a more unique way. After the party was over they had made the long drive back to campus. It was two weeks before anyone realized something was wrong.
A tear formed in Sara's eye as she scanned the den. As children it had been one of she and her sister's favorite places. The old farmhouse had seemed to pack all its odd twists and spaces into one room and there was plenty of storage and odd breaks in the line of the ceilings. It was a place of "character" her father had told them. It had also been one of his favorite rooms. They had spent countless hours cavorting and playing and teasing him as he tried to work. He had just laughed it all off. She would never have guessed the ending to the story so many years later.
Slowly she began to pull one book after another off the shelves, storing them in boxes based on category and age. Professional, legal, medical, fiction, and non-fiction quickly filled with familiar titles and well worn covers. A thin layer of dust swirled through the small room from some small gap in the window or wall. The more she cleared the more dust danced. Soon it seemed as if the room was filled with a smog of the stuff and she moved to the window and pushed its creaking latch from its place and let the air in the room escape.
It looked so bare and skeletal without the familiar mish mash that had accumulated there. Each item had seemed to bring back some fond memory of her childhood. Forcing a smile onto her face she turned back into the room. As she walked back towards her father's desk she saw a puff of dust explode from a split floorboard. It was thick and rose high in the air before breaking out into a wider cloud and beginning to settle.
For a second it seemed as if it had echoed the silhouette of a young woman, but Sara tried to shrug off the thought. But the dust was strange and the half inch gab in the floorboard was even stranger. Her father had been careful to craft the hardwood floors from lumber cut on their land. He was most proud of that achievement and had always warned them against wearing their shoes on the precious flooring.
Slowly Sara crouched and peered into the black space beneath it. Something seemed to glitter in the darkness. Her small fingertips dug at the gap prying back the floorboard and unveiling a small chamber between the ceiling of the bottom floor and the den. Inside a small five by five box waited, its hammered copper taking an on ethereal glow in the reflection of the overhead light.
Age had turned the metal to a blending of greens and orangey red tones that seemed to swirl across its patterned surface. A small simple post latch on the front of it pinned a simple lid shut. Cautiously the young woman reached into the chamber her delicate fingers wrapping around the little curiosity and pulling it from the coffin it had been entombed in.
Sara found herself rising in a stupor and moving to her childhood bedroom. She closed the door behind her, wanting some privacy with this thing that had been hidden. Perhaps it would answer the million questions that her father's suicide and mother and sister's disappearance had left. It seemed to tremble in her hands as she settled onto her bed with a slight rustle and squeak. She felt dizzy, woozy even as her fingers slowly pulled the pin free.
Taking a deep breath she slipped a well manicured nail into the lip of the box and tried to pry it open. Instead the nail snapped and the lid staid shut. It did not seem like it would hold that well; but she gave it another try with the metal pin. Begrudgingly the tiny box separated from its cap and revealed its secrets.
Inside the box were a stack of Polaroid pictures.
The first one brought a flood of happiness and relief to the young woman. It was a picture of her at her first varsity cheer practice in high school. She remembered when her father had taken it. She had been so proud to have made the team, and so embarrassed by her father showing up early to snap pictures with his extremely dated camera. The next photo was one of her as she prepared to leave for her junior homecoming.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she thumbed through this catalog of her youth. It answered no questions but confirmed her belief in her father's innocence of any wrongdoing. Each picture contained a precious memory of her youth of her growing up, of her ascension to adulthood. Her browsing would stop on the picture of her at the engagement party only a year ago. Sara saw herself with a huge smile, her left hand upraised for a crowd of female relatives, displaying a huge ring.
Her indicative bride "costume" seemed to light up the faded colors of the picture. Her sister's Gothic witch costumed was a black and bleak contrast to hers. It was the one thing that spoiled the photo for her. Her sister stared back up into the camera, her eyes squinted in anger and her posture tensed and stiff. Sara didn't remember her being angry, but the picture could not lie. The Anna in the picture was furious. Her eyes could not part with the piercing gaze of her sister as she slowly lowered the picture to the ground.
The next photo would seal the uneasy feeling that had been born from its predecessor. It was an image, a portrait, of her sister in the den. It was not so much the who and the where, but what she was wearing. It was Sara's bridal gown costume. The white of the gown glowed beneath the harsh flash of the primitive camera. Her sister was leaning over the desk, her head and shoulders tossed back and an obviously sensual look on her face.
Sara tossed it aside quickly, only to discover that the next photograph and the one after it were no better. Slowly Sara watched in horror as her younger sister stripped from the gown. Beneath it, the same white corset and lingerie she had purchased for the occasion was fitted tightly to her sister's petite form. It had always been impossible to tell the difference between the two and only the three year separation in age had allowed for any type of guesswork.
Sara would have almost thought it was her captured in the picture, breasts up thrust and legs parted wide in front of the window. In each picture her sister's eyes stared out at her, conveying so many emotions and desires.
The next photo showed Anna running her hands over her body, her eyes shut and lips pursed. The next was of one hand slipping between the corset and the lip of her panties. Progressively each photo became more and more lewd, until Anna masturbated furiously atop their father's desk. Sara threw them each aside with increasing terror and speed, her mind wishing it could abandon the race to the end of the story but her curiosity getting the better of her.
