Sex Demon Lover - Ch. 01
The next time you are lying in bed and are awaken in the middle of the night by a cold breath on your cheek, a soft, wandering hand, or the pressure of an unseen male body pressing you down into the bed... don't be afraid.
A demon cannot force sexual intercourse on an
unwilling
woman.
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My name is Hannah Overstreet.
The old Victorian house out on San Augustine Road had been vacant for many years before it was purchased by my mother, Abigail Singletary Overstreet, before I was born. I had grown up in the house until I was about eighteen and moved away for college. My mother lived here in the house until her passing. The house was left to me in her will, but at the time, I had no desire or interest in assuming the responsibilities that would come with owning such a large property.
I had first started sensing the spirit, ghost, demon, whatever the fuck it was when I was in my early teens. I was thirteen when I realized I could feel a presence in the house, which I had always referred to as 'the man.' It was nothing concrete, just a sensation that someone or something was in the house, sometimes touching me, watching me at night.
The house had stood empty since my Mom's death.
*****
Soon after my Mom passed away, I began living with my Aunt Peggy (Mom's sister) and her family. I talked to Peggy about the prickly sensations and feelings of apprehension that increasingly seemed to envelop me whenever I thought about going back to the old house. At the mention of my experiencing strange things in the house, Peggy sat motionlessly and questioningly stared at me in silence for a very long time. Finally, almost whispering, she said, "Your Mom often spoke about a demon or something that would come to her at night."
My head snapped up, and I looked at her, thinking she would say more, but instead, she turned quickly and left the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.
Very late one night, perhaps a week or so later, Peggy was passing my partially open bedroom door and thought she heard me talking to someone. She knocked and, opening the door wider, entered my room and saw I was asleep.
I had been talking in my sleep. Shaking me, my eyes fluttered open, and I stared around the room, trying to orientate myself.
"Are you still seeing that ghost?" She asked
"Yes, I am," I answered hesitantly. "I think I had been dreaming about 'the man' just now. When I dream, I feel like I can't move, but I can see, hear, and feel everything. I don't think it wants to hurt me. It never speaks, but I can "hear" him telling me not to be afraid, to trust him. He just comes and stands at the foot of my bed, watching me."
Peggy sat down on the side of the bed and stroked my damp hair away from my face. "You know, Hannah, your Mom, when she was about your age, also became involved with an entity after she moved into this house. She sometimes talked to me about him; she seemed desirous and yet frightened of him simultaneously."
"There may have been a brief period when she thinks the entity didn't come to her. She said she couldn't sense the being's presence anymore. Like when she was pregnant with you, he didn't come. But I think he was always with her, even when she didn't feel or sense him," Peggy explained.
Peggy tucked the covers around me and stood up. Smiling reassuringly, she said, "It's amazing how much you look like her the older you get, then... I don't think you need to be afraid of him." With a final squeeze of my hand, Peggy turned and left the room.
Over the next couple of months, before I moved into the old house, Peggy told me more about my Mom and what she had experienced with the supernatural. By the time I was old enough to move away and go to college, Mom's nighttime visitations had all but stopped, but the silent, watchful visits that had begun for me when I was about thirteen became more frequent and intrusive. Those early memories were still with me, tucked away and hidden.
It wasn't until I graduated from school, spent a few months traveling in Europe, became engaged to my fiancΓ© Dan, and finally moved back into the old Victorian that 'the man,' the entity returned.
*******
At my Mom's death, I inherited the huge, Victorian house she had begun renovating and remodeling. Her goal had been to turn it into a bed and breakfast, but after moving in, and after the relationship between her and my Dad deteriorated, she stopped all work on the house.
I remember the feeling I got when I first moved back into the house (I hadn't lived in the house since I was eighteen years old). Dan and I had already been together for a couple of years, and our relationship had become serious. Dan and I had eagerly decided to move in together. It was as if the house was calling me. I could imagine Dan and me out on the porch enjoying our morning coffee or stretched out on the wooden deck on warm summer evenings having wet, sticky, unhurried lovemaking.