The Attic of a Haunted House 

I

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.  

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  remember there was a punching bag in there hanging very low. I managed to punch it with my forehead. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.  

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? 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

The end of part one.