Vicky Carlyle looked at the old Victorian style house as her husband carried some of their bags to the door. She couldn't believe it; they were actually moving... it had taken them three years to finally make the plunge from the busy city life to the middle of nowhere – because let's face it: that's exactly where they were. From the first moment she had laid eyes on it, Vicky had been in love with the house; the three story residence was everything she and Dave – her husband – had been looking for: peacefully isolated with lots of direct and indirect lighting – perfect for her painting and sculpturing – and lots of room for a couple of kids, maybe even a dog one day. Dave had joked on several occasions that the house reminded him of one of those houses they used in so many horror – and paranormal movies – and truth be told, it did look kind of eerie with the white wooden exterior and darkened oval-shaped windows. Off course the constant squeaking sounds from the hard wood floors didn't help matters along in that area, but Vicky considered herself a modern woman with no irrational fears and had vowed not to be scared in her new home. That vow was going to be put to the test quite thoroughly as Vicky was going to spend a lot of time in the house by herself, because Dave was going to be working full time at the local lumber mill. But that was all right with Vicky as she was actually looking forward to spending some time alone, cleaning up the place, decorating and furnishing it to her heart's content. Her husband was more of a practical, macho man and didn't care about the interior design, the color the walls were painted in or which type of fabric the drapes were made of.
Dave turned to look at Vicky and asked:"You okay love?"
"Perfect. I can't believe we finally did it!" she said as she walked up to the house, hugged her husband and delicately placed her head on his strong masculine shoulder, enjoying the feel of his body and his typical male scent. She closed her eyes and purred as he hugged her back and ran a hand through her brown weaving hair. A minute or so later, the moving truck arrived. The rest of the day was filled with unpacking, deciding which room to use for what and cleaning up the main living areas. Exhausted, Dave and Vicky were in bed by 10:15 and fast asleep by 10:20.
Come morning, Vicky couldn't believe how peacefully and relaxing she'd slept. It had been years since she had had such a restful night; maybe it was the complete silence in and around the house or the change of scenery; whatever it was, it had left Vicky energized and chirpy. So much even that she did something she hadn't done in a while: she pulled down Dave's pajama bottoms and swallowed his flaccid cock in one gulp. By the time Dave opened his eyes, his tool had already grown to such a size that Vicky could no longer fit it in her mouth. He couldn't believe the pure lust radiating from her as he looked into her eyes and smiled. He simply loved seeing his wife bob her head up and down his massive cock. Vicky looked up at him and felt the same way; she loved servicing his giant cock, which made her hands and even her mouth dwarf in comparison. For more than twenty minutes she sucked and jerked his cock for all she was worth; she knew he couldn't cum in that position and she loved to tease and please him endlessly. Finally, when he was nearly begging her to let him cum, she sat up, swung one leg over him and – using two fingers of her left hand to hold open her entrance – sat down on top of him, rocking back and forth, grinding her crotch onto his massive pole. He didn't last thirty seconds before his body started convulsing violently, pushing Vicky almost twenty centimeters up into the air, over and over again. She loved these powerful, intense orgasms of his; it always made her feel like she was riding a rodeo bull while getting deeply and wildly shafted. When his orgasm subsided, Vicky rolled off of him and looked at him, with a big smile on her face, whispering in a playful voice:"You okay there sweetie?"
Panting heavily, Dave replied:"That was amazing... god, you completely drained me!"
"Good." she said, hopping out of bed. "That was the whole idea!"
After an invigorating shower and a hearty breakfast, Dave gave his wife a big kiss goodbye and drove off to work; his first day at his new job. Vicky cleared the breakfast table and walked through the house, holding a cup of coffee, thoroughly enjoying her newfound peace and quiet. There couldn't have been a bigger difference between the busy, crammed apartment they had left behind and their new peaceful, spacious home.
When she finished her cup of coffee, Vicky decided to get some work done; Dave had asked her to clear out the attic as they were planning it to use as storage. "Getting rid of the old junk, so we can store new junk!" Dave had so eloquently described it.
Except for a quick look around on their initial tour of the house, Vicky hadn't been up there at all, so she didn't quite know what to expect. The first thing that surprised her was how much light there was up there; she had expected it to be a lot darker and spookier, but the four circular skylights on each side of the pyramid shaped roof provided the attic with an abundance of light – at least during the day. Nearly the entire space was filled with old furniture, paintings and boxes, most of them covered in old dusty sheets. Full of resolve, Vicky started labeling what she wanted to keep, which seemed to be taking forever.
Because the attic was three stories up from the kitchen and Vicky wasn't a big fan of climbing stairs, she had packed some lunch. Around noon, she sat down on a wooden crate, leaning her back against a brick support wall, in the middle of the attic. While she was eating her lunch, she suddenly felt an ever so light breeze in her hair. When she turned around to look at the wall, she saw a tiny little crack in between two bricks and figured this was the source of the draft, which was strange considering it was a freestanding wall – connected only to the roof and the floor. Moving her hand around different parts of the wall, Vicky was unable to feel any kind of breeze. Confused and figuring she'd imagined it, she sat back down and poured herself a cup of coffee from her thermos. At that moment her cell phone rang; it was David, checking in during his lunch hour. He told her about his day so far and she told him about the progress she was making with the attic.
At the end of the phone call, Dave started getting frisky and asked her what she was wearing.