Author: rbb-user-894381 / Rich Bad Boy

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The Attic of a Haunted House

The Attic of a Haunted House, part II

I was sitting on a swing in the yard when Joe, my neighbor, ran up and shouted, “Take off, dude, we gotta run!”

It was true. When those butchers from the Higher Lands are coming to bust your ass, you better run. When attacked immediately in the neighborhood, you better not look back. I didn’t feel like taking the fight with any of them, so I quickly backed down where my eyes led me.&nbsp;&nbsp;

I hardly remember myself on the way out of trouble, but I do remember how insulting and bossy they treated me in school, meaty bastards. I actually knew where I was sweeping to – an abandoned house on Flip Street, 39, a “haunted house,” as we called it. None of us had the guts to go there alone – ever, which seemed my only escape as I approached it meticulously focused on what was happening behind my sweating ass. The house was right in front. There was no entrance door – in total gloom, I stumbled upon the threshold, falling down the pissed rotting wood. Crawling in complete darkness, I bumped into something – I&nbsp; remember there was a punching bag in there hanging very low. I managed to punch it with my forehead.&nbsp;

Then, when I sporadically tried to grope the stairs, a growing set of muffled steps echoed in my ears. I froze for a moment before returning myself to the scene – somehow, I numbed my desire to cry, and finally, I got on the stairs.

I then pulled out the screw on the hole cover, which only we had known, and climbed into the attic.

When in there, I looked down the stairs, trying to infiltrate a sound in that tremendously gloomy silence but heard nothing. I shut the cover tight, found a brick pile, and put a brick on, then another one, and another.

This happened to be my shelter, which I never ever in the most terrific nightmare expected it to be. But everything changes, and now I'm shaking, thinking about my dire situation.

It was gross, and it was a real mess. I wanted to put things together, fumbled around – got buried myself in an old coat that I could lie comfortably on. I was still all ears, but I wanted to eliminate that burden. I wanted to be deaf rather than shivering. Or dead. The slightest rustle in the dark wouldn't escape my ear. Suddenly, I heard a burst of laughter, not from the outside but somewhere under my feet. I listened attentively, and no doubt it was a distinct girlish chuckle.&nbsp;

I pressed the ear to the floor and heard a muted voice, and she was telling jokes or something. She obviously wasn't a quirky gal amusing herself in a wrecked house in the middle of the night. I desperately wanted to see what was going on under me. In fact, I wanted to know how that girl looked.&nbsp;

I found a doornail and poked a hole between the two timber planks, allowing me to see what was happening there. In a thin, fading afterglow of candlelight, I saw nothing but construction debris. Compulsively, I begin screwing another hole, a wider one this time, just a few feet to the left. Obsessed with the girl, I completely forgot about the chase – those jerks might have lost me.&nbsp;

When my eyes got used to the gloom, I spotted a shade of a female silhouette. Actually, there were two. Yet, I had nothing to tickle my ego with. Thanks to the well-rotted wood, I made a hole almost fist-size, ensuring nobody heard me. This time I could recognize two gals sitting on the floor, one opposite the other. The waves of fading candlelight spread around, flowing over reflecting objects, so I could barely see them. But I was sure the one sitting closer was a natural beauty. She had fairy hair falling down her shoulders in a chaotic laxity. She was wearing a white tee and shorts. Finally, the light fell on her chest, and my eagle’s sight indicated she wasn't wearing a bra. Her tee firmly embraced her curves, and her humps with jutting-out nipples were staring right at me.

I wished I could have seen more of her body back then! She was mumbling something about her mom if I got it right. The second girl, who I couldn’t see, was silent, but her shade occasionally nodded.

I bet they had no idea someone was hiding in the attic and watching them. I preferred nothing would reveal my presence.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Then, the invisible girl showed up with the crown of her head haloed in gold – she sat in the chair right under. I thought I knew that blonde.

She leaned back and took out a cigarette. I thought to myself that I knew her. Was she Trisha? Yep, it was her. One of the most popular girls at school, she was tall – she used to play libero in the school volleyball team. Though, I'd never talked to her because she wouldn't even look at me. I once saw Trisha beating the shit out of some other chick, and she was an accurate puncher. But her worst weapon was her tongue. She could make fun of anyone mocking less attractive girls, calling names, whatever. But what the heck were they doing there at night?&nbsp;

They both were right below me, but the room was huge, and I couldn't hear them properly. Nor did I want to reveal my presence, though.&nbsp;

Trisha kept listening, stretching her long legs wrapped in tight black leggings so I could enjoy their beauty well enough. She was wearing an oversized, half-unbuttoned white man's shirt with the sleeves rolled up casually. The light was chaotically falling on her, so I could catch a moment to observe her. I could not see her angelic face perfectly reconstructed in my pubertal mind, but I saw her black or brown bra hiding her tiny breasts.&nbsp;

The other gal, who was wearing pink colored hair, was still sitting on the floor. She had boobs and was touching them occasionally, and I thought she liked her touch. Once, she even squeezed the right boobie so hard I couldn't resist staring at her and fantasizing about you know what. I stared at her perineum and hoped she wasn’t wearing any panties.

However, some perpetual articulation didn't bother her examining her significant god-given assets. Those manipulations were extremely arousing. There was a fresh bruise on the inner thigh, which she pinched a few times – perhaps, wanting to show how it hurt. Then she pulled down the edge of her shorts to inspect another bruise below the waistline. It was hell getting hotter out there. I felt like sitting in the movies for adults. But gee, she got me horny. I exhaled loudly. I don't know whether pinky gal heard it, but she looked up at the ceiling. Not this would have frightened me, but rather my cemented balls that disturbed me much. I quieted down while she continued her examination. She took off her shorts, and only now, when she remained in her pastel panties, I realized she was drunk. She then sat on her knees, all shivering a little. An absolutely splendid view that I got!

The gals were having fun, and I wish I weren’t too scared to join them instead of observing from above! Pinky had a great ass and great boobs, but her facial features were average, or maybe it was just a bad light. But I could care less about her face. I couldn't see her pussy though but imagined her silky pubic hair tickling my stomach.

She was saying something about a guy named Greg, or his name was Harry – I couldn’t get exactly the name of a guy who dumped her twice or something like that. Trisha was lying in a chair, saying nothing. She was touching her hair regularly like she was nervous, but I hoped she would be more precise with inspecting her body. She definitely had much to offer, but perhaps she wasn't drunk enough to expose herself.&nbsp;

I was waiting for Pinky to examine her pubis – back then, I had never seen a nude female body in real life. I was so stuck to their vaginas that I thought of nothing else. I wish I had more light in there! Pinky was short, but her tanned body was so attractive in its perfect shape that I wanted to touch her all my life.&nbsp;

However, I saw Trisha's back leaning over, reaching for something behind her. Now I could see her crotch in tights. I loved what I saw. The image of this young flesh was a revelation of mine. “That's what they do when nobody sees them,” flashed through my brain.&nbsp;

I felt like shit confronting my natural volition to have them both here and now, and I felt handicapped, desperately wanting to help myself with a hand, but I suppressed that feeling.&nbsp;

Trisha, meanwhile, took out a large oval mirror and put it on the floor. She then turned it a little and got closer to her. I was anticipating some ecstatic moves from her, but what was next would have never come to my mind.&nbsp;

Trisha took off her leggings, sat on the floor in her black panties, and spread her legs a little, looking at her crotch. She embraced the mirror with her legs – I thought this peephole would swallow me entirely.&nbsp;

Something magical in this hole made me so horny, although, to my regret, Trisha didn't take off her tee, even though it wasn't cold inside. Maybe because I was wrapped in a coat?

Most likely commenting on Trisha's magnificent looks, Pinky touched her arm and kissed the ear lobe. Trisha chuckled. Pinky stood on her knees and giggled, too, then she landed her firm buttocks between Trisha's legs in front of the old scratched mirror, leaning her back against Trisha’s chest.

Trisha now started melting with pleasure, I assumed.

Both gals seemingly enjoyed each other. At least, what I thought back then, and what I’m thinking now, is that it wasn’t their first time together. Although I couldn’t see their reflections in the mirror, it bothered me the least as I could see the sexiest gals I had ever seen in my entire life.

Pinky sluggishly bent down the mirror, revealing her neat creamy panties and sexy lumbar. Her tits shook up, and only then Trisha couldn’t resist any longer – she hugged Pinky from the back and kissed her on her neck. Busty sweety shivered a little, leaned back at Trisha’s chest – they were kissing.&nbsp;

I sneezed. As if on cue, they both turned their heads up. Realizing I was exposed, I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I didn’t doubt that Trisha would smash my face, and I decided it was easier to die lying on the rotten floor. Closing my eyes, I convinced myself that I was sleeping. Could a guy sneeze in&nbsp; sleep? That's it – I was dreaming and couldn’t make any sound. Moving closer to the hole, I saw Trisha and Pinky kept cuddling as if nothing had happened.&nbsp;

Pinky spread her legs a little wider, and I saw the groin, with Trisha’s palm patting the belly of her mate. I had already liked her pink hair and would have enjoyed anything about her, especially her boobies. I could hardly wait for her to take off the shirt. I wish they could figure out how to light 100 more candles as a minimum.&nbsp;

Soon I realized that my erection had never ended since Trisha had gotten rid of her leggings, having just elevated from contemplating them both.

Even if they showed up here together, I wouldn’t be pretending that I haven’t seen anything – it just wouldn't work. Ha-ha.

And then, getting to the point, I heard indistinct, “What are you looking at, you little pervert?”

I recoiled into the dark – I thought she accompanied those words with a menacing cry. I didn't know what I'd got to do – should I stay or should I go? Frankly, no power on Earth could force me to do the latter.

But when I got closer to the peephole, girlfriends looked at each other, twittering something nice; I supposed they had nothing to do with me here upstairs.&nbsp;

Again, I stared at Pinky's crotch, covered with a large Trisha's palm. She turned a little, and the edge of her panties shifted, and I saw her beautiful round ass right up. She stood on her knees while Pinky was lying on her back – their firstly sluggish passion had somehow rekindled. Or was it me who turned them on?&nbsp;

The thin lacy fabric of Trisha's panties has affected my sight as Pinky's boobs did. I wish they both were completely naked!&nbsp;

Pinky put her arms on Trisha's back, yet both were chuckling, kissing, and kissing and chuckling. I'm sure they knew I was spying on them, and one of the pieces of evidence was their louder winning, and the sounds they made were a little flashy, mainly those sophisticated groans.&nbsp;

“No way they would ever stop,” I thought, trying to catch each moment of that real-time performance – enjoy a free ride, pal! All I wanted was my fear and their clothes to vanish.

I looked at them now with increasingly expected anticipation of a more intimate approach of two young girls playing with one another. I decided to keep it to myself no matter what awaited me. What I had already seen was never enough for a 17-year-old, but now I'm sure it's too much for a guy in his 50s. Trisha squeezed Pinky's tits through the cloth, licked her lips, and whispered something tender.

I couldn't take my eyes off them both, trying to remember each delicate move, so astounding it was in its grace. Involuntarily, I laid my eyes on Trisha's ass and couldn't move, begging for her mercy. Meanwhile, Pinky grabbed that ass with her tiny hands and put her fingers under the pants, trying to pull them down. Trisha lazily shook that ass, not letting the imminent happen too quickly. She was still in the man's shirt, though, but it in no way hindered my job.

But her panties moved down even faster than I had thought, and now Trisha's pussy was in my sight. She abruptly lifted Pinky's tee and carefully started kissing her nipples. Unfortunately, the light was dim, and I couldn't have taken the whole picture, but I was happy even with that piece.

Pinky ran her fingers under Trisha's shirt. She pulled it over, and her breasts were before my eyes. That was the first time I saw her small tits so close, even from an uncomfortable angle. I remember thinking she wouldn't have played for the school team if she had been busty.&nbsp;

“Yet she's beautiful,” I thought and turned away. For a moment, I felt embarrassed, as if I saw my sister posing. I tried to get myself together for a few minutes, but clearly, I didn't want to stop even though I felt pissed off. Since I'd caught Trisha's glimpse, I no longer felt secure.

But it was a true story, as close as it could have been. And I did want to get much more intimate. I think I almost physically sensed that tactile language, and seeing Trisha caressing the girl all over her body was a growing torture. And watching the calibrated moves of her hips was unbearable, too.

However, Trisha’s gentleness was mesmerizing – how she looked at Pinky was touching, and it pleased me more than intimacy. Yes, I liked them both, but I knew I was being superfluous, and by embedding this awareness, I demolished my essence. Soon I realized that Trisha was trying to drag herself from the stage while I was dragging myself from despair.

I pulled myself away to reflect back on what had happened that night. I was lying on the floor, hearing their dull moans only.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

When I finally decided to throw a glance and go into the night, I saw Pinky lying all naked when suddenly Trisha turned her head to the ceiling and shouted, “Not a word, you little pervert!”

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