Erotic Horror
This is my first foray into the Erotic Horror rubric. I hope you like it. I wish to thank my long suffering and always wonderful editor, Ken.
That Albino Voyeur
A ghostly voyeur comes to life
It was such an innocent beginning. My lover Carl and I came into some money when a dear relative died. We, but mostly me, were hunting for a home, having had enough of living in apartments. I found my dream home, an old house in southern Connecticut that dated back to 1775. Since it was now 2025, that made it 250 years old! The house had been well maintained. Its electricity had been upgraded to modern standards. The front door had low clearance, and Carl, who is six feet plus a little, had to tuck his head down to enter it. Colonials were shorter people, I guess.
As for me, I'm short like the colonials. Five feet two on a good day, and around 105 pounds. I always wear heels of course, which adds a couple of inches. I have skinny legs, skinny arms, and somewhat large boobs. I project a vulnerable, little girl aura, but I am 100% woman, having had an active sex life in high school and college, and especially with Carl for the last five years, three of them living together. He calls me his Sexy Suzy. I'm just Suzy. He also calls me his "little fuck bunny," but I don't like that nickname, especially when he uses it around some of our friends. My full name is Suzanne Delacroix.
Carl has proposed marriage a few times. I'm against it. I don't want the state - or God forbid the Church -- to intervene in our lives. I've seen what happens when people divorce. Carl and I are forever, don't get me wrong, but you never know, do you? Let the state be the state, let the church be the church, and let us be.
Back to the house. We spent the next three months hunting for antiques to furnish it. Before long we had a spectacular home. I even found a colonial era painting in an out of the way antique store out in the Connecticut countryside. It had centaurs and water nymphs in a pastoral setting. We hung it over the fireplace. I'd enjoy looking at it for what seemed like hours on end. I had mystical thoughts. It was as if I knew some of the centaurs, and some of the nymphs, in a previous life. This was of course ridiculous, but I nevertheless could not stop myself from studying the painting.
When we closed on the house Carl secretly bought me a present to celebrate. It was a totally gorgeous antique necklace of (I assumed) gold plate, but it might have been 18 karat solid gold, interspersed with emeralds and rubies. One of the nymphs in our painting was adorned with a similar necklace; it looked like something out of the vaults of Bulgari. In fact, it was indeed made by Bulgari, as I later discovered. So what I presumed was gold plate was actually 18 karat gold.
As soon as the real estate agents and lawyers were gone, I stripped off my clothes, put the necklace on, and told Carl to make love to me and never stop. The necklace fell to between my breasts, and Carl sexily pulled it to one side, so it caressed and cupped my left boob.
"God, you look sexy," he declared as he drove his hard cock into me. He fucked me. My man is a great fuck, as well as a loving, generous lover. I'm a lucky girl.
I wore the necklace every day. I usually wore it topless when at home, often cupping one of my boobs. Not that it matters, but usually it cupped my left boob. I felt special in it, almost mystical.
We were finally settled when I screwed up, big time. We had a party, using the excuse of Valentine's Day, which was only a few days off. Carl bought top-shelf liquor for the occasion. Alcohol flowed a bit too freely. As it got late I realized I was drunk, but Carl was worse off. He had passed out still fully dressed and was snoring away in our double bed in the bedroom. Mike and Marsha were the last couple to leave, and only Philip and I were left standing. Philip and I had fooled around a bit years earlier, first in high school and then in freshman year of college. We had come awfully close to having full-blown sex, but I had never let it happen. Now we were alone in my dream house, with only a passed-out Carl to keep us company.
"Why does Carl call you his fuck bunny, Suzy?" Philip asked, not so innocently. I grimaced when he said that. Carl and his big mouth.
"Why do you think?"
"He's so lucky. Hey, do you want to give an old man a treat?"
"27 is not old."
"I'm 28 as of last month. I could use a treat."
"What did you have in mind?"
"A little kiss."
"Seriously? Just a kiss?" I didn't trust Philip. He always wanted more. He always wanted too much. "Don't you get relief from Stephanie?"
"Stephanie is history. We had a threesome with Mitch, and I haven't seen her nor Mitch ever since. Not even for my birthday." That explained why Philip came stag to my party. Philip seemed on the verge of tears. I wanted to cheer him up.
We kissed. While we kissed Philip somehow got my sweater off. He was hunting for the clasp of my bra when I broke the kiss and pushed him away. "This is not cool, Philip. This is my home, and Carl is down the hall in bed."
Philip had always wanted more than I was willing to give. He hadn't changed.
"Let's go outside. It's a nice evening." Philip suggested.
"It's freezing outside."
"Your guest bedroom has that big window with a view of your garden. We can watch the birds. Want to show me?" The guest bedroom was far from the master bedroom where Carl was passed out.
"It's night. The birds will be asleep."
"There's always the owls," he said as he took my hand and led me to our guest bedroom. He remembered where it was from the home tours Carl had given early in the party.
Had I not been so drunk I might have seen what Philip had in mind. I was too proud of our new home. I wanted to show it off. I turned on the outside lights and let Philip lead me down the hall to the guest bedroom. My bra was loose but instead of refastening it I just shrugged it off. Philip had seen my boobs in high school and college, and they're the same boobs they've always been. I rationalized being topless in front of Philip. His smile at seeing my boobs took up most of his face. His shirt was off at this point. I'm not sure when that happened.
He took me in his arms, hugged me gently, and he kissed me again. His kisses were much better than those of his I remembered. I loved the feel of his chest hairs on my boobs. My nipples were hard. My necklace was hanging down, between my boobs.
The drink plus Philip's caresses of my boobs while he gently and lovingly kissed me were my undoing. He led me to the bed and we both fell onto it. Not a word was spoken as he removed my skirt, my two-inch heeled pumps, my leggings under my skirt, and finally - yes - my lace, bikini-cut panties. As I had taught him to do years ago, he expertly caressed my pussy, paying especially close and tender attention to my clitoris. He had improved, too, since those early days: his long fingers inside me curled up and found my G-spot. Soon he had me so excited I climaxed, pushing him away as it was just too intense.
After a good climax, I always feel like my vaginal canal resembles a vacuum. As we both learned in high school physics, nature hates a vacuum. I could tell Philip was going to fuck me.
"No, Philip. No penetration that way," I said weakly, but trying to make my voice firm.
"Why not? You let Mark, Seth and even Roger enjoy you. Why not me? You know you like me better."
"That was years ago. I'm with Carl now and no longer free and easy with my body. We're not making love, Philip. Those days are gone."
Actually, I had neither Roger nor Seth fuck me. I had bought them off with blowjobs. Mark was another matter. Mark wouldn't take no for an answer. All that was back in high school.