“Hey Seekers! It’s y’girl SeekerCK!” Looking directly into the camera on her phone Callie had the briefest flicker of doubt. She had passed a hundred thousand subscribers last month but how many of them were real? Like, really real? There were barely a dozen she remembered as regulars in her comment section. She always looked for BeBea and Shay Day leaving notes for her first, they were her favourite. In a strange way she even looked forward to the salt from PunkyDebunker; constantly calling her a fake and a fraud. It always felt good-natured. Friendly salt. She regularly engaged in a dialog with him in the comments section – she didn’t know who was behind that screen name but she was convinced they were a guy – trying to help him see how it would be impossible for her to make all this stuff up.
Then there were the few dozen simps and ‘pick-me’s that were always in her comment sections of course. And, be fair, did Callie do the occasional thirst-trapping? You gotta get the views up someway. Even tonight she was guilty of it. Her hair was coloured the pink of cotton candy and she wore it in an edgy bob with wispy bangs, pinned on the right with a cartoon ghost hair clip. It made her look much younger and, gross as that was, the videos she uploaded where she playing the ‘waif’ look got more likes. A lot more.
Tonight’s outfit would’ve gotten her sent home from school even these days; she’d graduated from high school more than a decade ago and back then it probably would’ve given Mr. Ross a heart attack. She was slightly above average height at a hair under 5’ 5" and average build. Her modest curves and slightly smaller than average chest didn’t draw much attention when she was in her regular clothes but tonight she was on camera. She’’d chosen her brightest white slip-on sneakers and black capri-cut leggings with a waist that rose above her navel. Across her hips and over both the front and back of the leggings was a chaotic spider-web design in an iridescent silver, with a cartoony spider dangling down her right thigh and another sitting on her left butt-cheek. Complimenting the silver and white, the webs had caught blood-red embroidered oak leaves in several places. The design being confined to the upper third or so of the tights did a lot of work drawing the eye. Callie had worn them out to grab a coffee last Halloween and the looks she got told her they were “on camera” clothes from now on.
Even considering her leggings the truly stand-out part of her outfit was her top. She wore a snug red, single-layer tube top that did some truly amazing work at enhancing her compact bosom while also being thin enough to play to the cheap seats. It was cold enough out tonight that she was already poking out pretty prominently. But the best part was her ‘jacket’. It was a one-sided, long-sleeve affair that only stayed in place thanks to a choker buckled snugly around her throat and two wider straps that ran around her chest, one above and one below the tube top. They framed her boobs perfectly and made them look even bigger, and she did need all the help she could get. The jacket was made of a soft, shiny black leather that always looked wet and the one sleeve came down past her right wrist to the middle of her palm. She had left the zipper undone on the sleeve since it was too tight for her hand if she had it all the way down and it ended up bunching unpleasantly around her wrist. There was a single panel on the front and the back and a purely decorative zipper on the front above her breast where, on a real jacket, there would be a pocket.
“So this place we’re goin’ tonight, it’s insane! Check it out!” She tapped the button on her phone to flip to the back-facing camera. “I’m two hours outta the city and down this creepy-ass dirt road for, like, three miles before this! Abandoned farmhouse with no farm anywhere around, just that old, wrecked barn!” She turned to sweep her phone camera over shadows that could have been a barn but just as easily could have been a pile of cut brush. She hoped she could afford one of those cameras you put on like a headband and could see in the dark soon. A bit more affiliate revenue, maybe a few more paid supporters and another couple months of rice and beans and she’d be there. She’d make some real bank then.
“Even crazier, there’s literally no record of the house bein’ built. I looked. I went down to the county records office and they wouldn’t let me do, like, a proper search? But I told ’em I worked for Fleet Realty and I was supposed to do a title search before we decided if we were gonna take it on and I was all ‘poor office intern’ girl and the lady there, Ms. Geary,” she hissed softly at herself. “Fuck, edit that out, she’’ll get in shit if I put her name out there.” She took a breath, a mental reset then started again. “And the lady there let me look at the records for the place as long as I didn’t try to take them out of the office. This place was never permitted, never zoned, never registered and never inspected. As far as the county is concerned everything for ten miles in any direction belongs to the state! Okay, yeah, dirty titles happen but this place, it’s like it was here before the county was incorporated! Look at it!”
She flicked on her flashlight, a ridiculously expensive soup can LED model that could throw more than a quarter of a mile if she needed. It was an extravagance, it had shit battery life, and the fans on it were loud, but even with all that it was worth it to have a hand-held floodlight that could light a parking lot. As she turned her phone back to the house she flicked the light to ‘flood and throw’ and panned it all over the dilapidated structure. Two stories; she guessed there would be a cellar but it was obvious there was no basement. The first floor didn’t have a single intact window but the second floor appeared to be almost untouched. The front had a farmers porch that looked like it might’ve been screened in at one point, but now it was wide open, and beyond it the front door was boarded up. Too solidly for her if Callie was being honest with herself. She didn’t bring tools and she knew she couldn’t remove the boards by hand even if they’d been fixed in place with nails rather than screws. But she wasn’t really a “front door” kind of girl anyway.
Making her way around the side of the old dirty grey structure she carried on for her audience. “So it’s got a real psycho-killer-house thing going on, right? But the stories are even better! The first people to live out here, the father was some, like, religious zealot-looney-nutjob, right? He moved his family out here because he was too ‘old testament’ for the puritans that ran the town where they were living. They weren’t God-Core enough. They came out here and when he goes back to town later to buy stuff he tells them that God led him to this place, the house was just here waitin’ for him! Now that’s probably bullshit but he wouldn’t let his wife or his kids come back to town once they were out here so we’ve only ever got his word on it. They’re settled for a couple years and the people in town, they see the old guy every few of months. Then one day people in town started gettin’ worried that they hadn’t seen him in, I dunno, a long fuckin’ time and so they came out here and they found the whole family dead! Too many different stories about how they died to say what I believe, but I promise you, Seekers, it wasn’t good! Couple of different people’ve bought the place since then and tried to fix it up but nobody says more than a few months and it’s always the same shit! Weird sounds, weird smells, weird lights, stuff moving, shadow-people, all of it!”
She paused, turned off her ridiculously bright flashlight and instead flicked on the angled body-mounted light she had attached to her ‘jacket’. It was hardly a candle by comparison but she could keep it on all night and it’d still have a charge by sun-up. She also needed at least one hand free. “Now you know y’girl, SeekerCK. I’m not going all this way outta town just ‘cause some locals think an old house is haunted. I got better stuff to do than that. But TwitchWitch, my close-close friend, she told me about this place, she said it was the real thing. You all remember the team-up I did with TwitchWitch last fall, right? Link in the notes. Well, if she says it’s worth the trip, you know I’m gonna be out here seeking out all the stuff that goes bump in the night!”
She had now cleared the side of the house and could see around the back. Unfortunately she’d chosen wrong. This was one of the designs that had the kitchen sticking out the back of the main building and she’d come around on the side without doors, just two boarded up windows and a crumbling stone chimney between them. Nestled in the corner where the kitchen met the outer wall of the house proper was a rotting, mossy pile of wood and Callie wondered for a moment if that hid another way in to the house. She’d seen that before in older places, they had a kind of sliding panel that would let someone inside grab some split wood from the pile without going outside. They weren’t usually that close to the chimney, but who knows what they were thinking when they built this place? What it surely meant was there were going to be animals inside. Mice if she was lucky, skunks, rats or worse if she wasn’t.
Standing there in the cool night air, she found her thoughts drifting away, wondering what it might’ve been like here in the 1800s or whenever it’d been built. She could smell the fresh, earthy ‘farm’ smell coming from the barn, feel the sunlight on her cheeks, hear the wind blowing through the tall grass. She closed her eyes and could see herself there, standing in the backyard on a late August afternoon. Somewhere off in the distance there was a storm, she could hear the rumble of thunder and smell the shift in the air as it approached.
The promise of rain, the raw power of a thunderstorm sent a nervous thrill through her. She thought she might just stay outside and watch it pass over. That’d be exciting, to stand in the middle of all that … that power, that energy and just … just let it have her …
She hadn’t even noticed her free hand as it slid up her hip and over her belly, above the waist of her leggings, across the band of exposed skin and finally over her firm breasts. Her nipples were rock hard now, poking out so clearly her tube top looked more like body paint than an article of clothing. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, filling her lungs as she caressed her breast through the thin fabric of her top and there was a bizarre doubling of her worlds.
She was standing behind the kitchen, it was a warm, sunny afternoon and she was staying out of sight, in a private spot hidden by the wood pile. She’d confess later – in private, not out loud, of course – but He would forgive her.
She was also standing in an overgrown tangle of weeds in the middle of the night, nearly freezing her poorly-covered ass off and feeling herself up while she recorded it all on her phone.
The storm. Where was the storm? Was it here? In the summer afternoon where she was stealing away from her chores long enough to settle her need? She was too old to be sharing a bedroom with her brother, but they only had the one, and she knew what he did up in the hayloft sometimes. She had no chores away from mother, away from everyone. This was the only way she could find the privacy she needed.
The storm was here, Callie could see the grey-white flashes on the night sky. She was going to get soaked out here. Most of her gear would be fine but her phone wouldn’t. Her case couldn’t handle a downpour. What the hell was she doing, standing here and recording herself playing with her tits while a storm was running straight at her?
It was definitely going hit the farm before dinner. She should be inside helping mama get ready for her father and brother’s return from the field. Father would be cross at the turn in the weather and if they made him wait after he’d washed up she might be in real trouble. She didn’t need long, she’d be quick. She hiked up her dress, leaning her back against the wall of the house …
She wasn’t wearing a dress! Callie had chosen her spider-oak tights for tonight. There was no hiking them up, but she realised with a gasp that her free hand had left her tits – the tube top bunched and askew, revealing a generous amount of underboob – and was now deep down the front of her leggings. The hell are you doing? she demanded of herself but she didn’t prevent her fingers from exploring further.
“Silence!” Mother shouted from the kitchen. “You get your slothful self in here right now or by God’s nails I’ll see to it you can’t sit for a week!” With a frustrated cry of protest, Silence (Callie!) jerked her hand free –
– of her leggings and called out a nervous, “Yes, mother!” just as there was another distant boom of thunder.
“What the fuck?” Callie breathed to herself, finally sure of her where and when. She stared at her fingers, the tips glistening in her body-light. She turned her attention full on her phone, flipped the camera to focus on her again and said, a little shakily, “Gotta figure out how to edit around that, but there’s no way I can leave that out!” She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and as soon as the latest rumble trailed off she started back in on her ‘Channel Host’ role. “That is the most incredible thing I ever had happen! This place has memories just floating around! I just had a full-on temporal dislocation! I never left here but I was also seeing, hearing, even touching,” she was confident the poor lighting would obscure the sudden warmth flooding her cheeks, “some past event! I lived here with my family and my mom was calling me in to help with chores!” She needed to think of some way to spruce up the video during her experience, but that was a problem for editing. Unless her phone had actually captured something. How amazing would that be? In your face, PunkyDebunker!
“Alright, we don’t got time to mess around, that was cool and all but I gotta see inside and there’s a storm coming. I maybe have twenty minutes before it hits, so lets go, Seekers!” She moved around the end of the house, more quickly than she had before, doing her best to ignore the continued tingling between her legs. Was she getting even more turned on? This could be a problem, Callie thought to herself, a little giddy with excitement.
“Alright, here we are!” she announced, rounding the corner and finally reaching the back door of the farmhouse. The windows beside it were broken and boarded up, of course, but the door itself was only held shut by a single 1x4 piece of wood and TwitchWitch – Hazel Davis in the real world and Callie’s best friend since middle-school – had told her that the nails were back in the same holes she’d taken them out of, so really it was just sort of hanging there. The door only had the appearance of being boarded up.
She kept her phone and body-light on the door as she approached, then flipped the camera back to her face for a moment. “Kay, I gotta put you down while I get the door open. Don’t go anywhere, Seekers!” Grinning foolishly at the weak joke – it was good for engagement – she put her phone down against the edge of the back steps where it would have a view of the ruins of the old barn. Maybe she’d get lucky and capture something moving in the shadows over there that she could use later.
She did capture something and if she’d been live-streaming some of her viewers might’ve warned her.
Callie never did live-streams.
“Got it!” she announced a moment later, carefully setting down the board and picking her phone up once more. She flipped the camera again, gave a mischievous wink and said cheerily, “Let’s see what’s waiting for us inside!”
Stepping through the doorway, Callie traversed between “pitch black night” and “darker, musty smelling room on a pitch black night”. She resisted the urge to turn up the brightness on her body-light. The darkness in the room seemed almost hungry, so completely did it swallow the illumination, but everything she’d read and heard confirmed that her best chance at encountering the supernatural was in the dark. A couple hundred lumens, enough for her to see where she was walking, enough to examine things when she got close to them, that felt like a decent compromise.
The moment her body-light landed in the kitchen she spotted movement. Too quick for her to focus on it but from the sound she guessed at the source. “Rat,” she whispered into her mic. “Maybe rats, I’m not sure, but I heard one over there.” She turned the light toward a corner where there had once been a counter and cupboard but now was just rotting wood and shadows. There was a peal of thunder, less distant again, she had to keep moving. She already knew she wasn’t going to be able to explore the whole house tonight, but maybe she could at least cover the first floor. Inwardly she cursed the weather reports. None of them had predicted any chance of rain tonight, she wouldn’t have come all this way out here, wasting time and gas if there was any chance she was going to have to leave early.
“Alright, so me and Mr. Rat –” she stopped her narration abruptly. “The hell was that?” she hissed, looking right into her phone camera again, then up at the ceiling. “Did you hear that? Shit, I hope you heard that.” She looked up at the ceiling and for the first time noticed the work that had been put into this place. An intricate pattern on the ceiling, she would’ve thought it was pressed tin tiles, but there was something off about it. It wasn’t tiles, it was actually a mural. Carved or embossed, she couldn’t tell in this light, but it was incredible. She tried to pick out details of the mural but her brain couldn’t assemble what she was seeing into a coherent picture. She just had a sense of something deeply sexual about the art.
“Holy shit I hope you can see this, somebody spent real money on this pl– You heard that, right? It’s like … something’s movin’ around upstairs. I think. I think it’s upstairs, it’s hard to tell. Big, whatever it is, it’s not just Mr. Rat’s family.” Her voice rose a little in pitch as adrenaline flooded her body. “Raccoon,” she concluded. “A really big one. A skunk wouldn’t go upstairs and there’s no way there’s squatters out this far.” She knew she was trying to reassure herself, psyche herself up to at least finish the first floor, but she was getting jumpy. The event outside, the noises here, and this strange, growing sense of a presence was threatening to overwhelm her.
“Okay, gonna be real quiet from here on,” she murmured to her phone. “It’s definitely upstairs, whatever it is. I’m pretty sure it’s upstairs. Anyway, we’re gonna stick to down here for now and let’s all just share the space.” She glanced toward the black maw of a hallway that led to the house interior and the stairs to the second floor and suppressed a shiver.
“Holy shit,” she breathed softly as she turned her attention back to the small kitchen. “Look at this,” she turned her phone and her light toward the fireplace. She took a few steps toward it and then slowly panned over the whole thing, letting her viewers get a good look. It was in much better condition than she’d expected from the outside. It was dirty and covered in cobwebs, of course, but the stonework was all intact and at three places around the mouth, the left and right sides about halfway up and in the middle of the upper part of the frame, were gleaming black blocks. Callie wondered if they were obsidian, she had no idea how to tell, but it was bizarre how none of the three seemed to be dirty in the slightest. Even stranger, despite being solid black it almost looked like they were reflecting her light back at her, like the area around them seemed brighter when she focused her light on one of them. “Anybody in the comments know what these are? I never saw anything like – whoa!”
She had been slowly approaching the fireplace, but came to a sudden stop. There were faces in the black stones. Human faces. She squinted. They weren’t carved, they looked like maybe the faces had been etched into the blocks. “How’d they even do that?” she murmured to herself, crouching and leaning closer still to get a better look. The expressions on the faces, they were … Callie’s free hand had returned, unbidden, to her crotch and she had started absently rubbing herself through her tights and panties.
The faces were very expressive. They were all expressions of some very intense moments. Callie didn’t even notice when she let out a long, low moan of desire while her fingers worked frantically at her genitals. Men, women, humans she couldn’t fit neatly into either tidy little category, all of them were depicted in the stone etchings and all of them were experiencing …
CRACK
“FUCK!” Callie shouted, getting up from her crouch so fast she nearly toppled over backward. The lightning strike wasn’t just close, it was here. It might’ve hit a tree nearby, it wasn’t more than a mile away, that’s for sure. Her heart hammered in her chest, as much from her own undeniable sexual arousal as anything else, and she spun on her heel. “Yup, time to go!” she announced with a voice that sounded considerably higher and less steady than normal.
“FUCK!” she shouted again as her body-light washed over the door. A man stood there. He was huge! At least he looked huge to Callie. He seemed to take up the whole door frame. His arms hung limp at his sides but a second later she realised that he was hunched over. The man was dressed in what would have been his Sunday best, though Callie noted his shoes were caked with mud and the bottoms of his pants were similarly dirty, with a few stray bits of hay clinging to the hems. He took a dragging, shuffling step into the kitchen then rose to his full height.
Jesus! Gotta be seven feet tall! Callie thought wildly.
“S-sorry! You scared the shit outta me,” she was stumbling over her words, they were coming too fast. She was sure she was going to mess them up and as stupid as it seemed it was getting harder to think straight because holy shit was she ever getting horny!
“Th-this your place?” she tried again to address the hulking, silent figure standing between her and freedom. “I didn’’t mean to trespass, c-county records,” her voice grew soft and small as she considered the situation, “said it’s unowned?”
“Hrr,” the man replied. Or rumbled in response. Or just breathed. Callie couldn’t even tell if he’d understood a word she’d said. And goddamnit! She was masturbating again! Her free hand was down her pants, skin on skin, the way it was supposed to be. She berated herself though she still wouldn’t, or couldn’t, stop. Right now, right in front of this giant creepy dude, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a thunderstorm! What was going on with her?
There was a cluster of flashes from outside, lighting up the doorway and the spilling through the cracks in the boarded up windows and, finally, understanding dawned. The man wasn’t there at all. Well, he was and he wasn’t. He may be time-displaced or he may be a real ghost, Callie wasn’t sure, but she could see right through him even though she could also see him and feel his presence as surely as she could see the ruins of the barn and the overgrown yard behind and through him.
“Fuck me,” she whispered in wonder. The brief light had also illuminated the figure’s huge, thick cock. Hanging out from the front of his pants, heavy balls dangling behind and rational thought fled. Callie took two confident steps toward the ghost and then, in a single, fluid motion, sunk to her knees. She looked up into his blank face – not just expressionless, but truly featureless, there was nothing where the face would be save for a shadowy grey outline – and opened her mouth wide.
“You gotta know how to do this,” Callie murmured and resting her phone on the filthy wood floor of the kitchen she wrapped both her hands around the ghost’s very-much-solid shaft. “Right in here,” she took the tip between her lips and instantly her whole body was awash is pleasure. It was incredibly intense, an all-over tingling that made her toes curl; the tiny hairs at the small of her back stand on end; her nipples were on fire, so constricting and uncomfortable was her tube top now.
She slid down a bit along the ghost-cock, every bit ramping up her own pleasure. She flicked and swirled her tongue around the frenulum, gliding along the underside of the head quickly then back to stroking and lapping at the sensitive folds. The briefest moment of this, not more than a few seconds Callie was sure, and she finally felt the monstrously large ghost respond. Its hips moved forward just a little and the spectral penis began moving toward her throat.
Callie moaned loudly and let her tongue ripple along the underside of the rod in her mouth. She dropped both her hands from the warm, musky-but-wonderful shaft and took the opportunity to yank her tube top down to her waist, leaving her mostly bare from there up, save for her one leather sleeve, quarter panel and the thick leather straps across her chest and around her neck.
She gagged, then retched as the tip bumped against her throat. She couldn’t be sure but Callie thought she wasn’t even halfway to the root and so when the ghost began to pull back she instead threw her hands around the phantom’s behind, squeezing his solid-yet-translucent ass hard and pulling him against her face. She made a sound, a pleading, desperate sound that was meant to encourage him while she struggled to relax her throat. Her stomach flexed and heaved again and she had to admit defeat.
For now.
She let the ghost pull away, trailing thick, foamy spittle and dripping it down on her bare tits and onto the kitchen floor. She coughed twice, spit out more saliva, then looked back up into that blank space and smiled. Her eyes were watering as she said softly, “Ready.”
He needed no more encouragement than that. The ghostly dick parted her lips and in response she extended her tongue, giving it a warm, soft pad to glide over rather than risk scraping against her teeth. She blinked rapidly as he again banged against the back of her throat. She gagged again but as he began to retreat once more she made a loud grunt and grabbed the ass even harder. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as her eyes watered more but she wasn’t going to let this go. She held the ghost in place as best she could then thrust her head forward. With a snort and a pained moan and a sudden sense of victory she felt the tip penetrate her throat. At the same time there was a sudden, joyous release in her leggings. Very distantly she wondered if her gym clothes were still in the back of her car or if she’d have to drive home in her own damp.
He was slow at first. Gentle in his own way while his thick, hard meat violated her fluttering throat. All the way down until she could feel the hot scrotum against her chin and her pussy clenched again, her thighs spasming with lusty delight. He stayed like that for a beat, another. This time Callie retched so hard her abdominal muscles hurt and despite the massive cock still filling her throat, she blew out a spray of saliva and snot from her mouth and sinuses. She felt another coming and she slapped the palm of her right hand against the ghost’s hip. He seemed to understand the message and pulled all the way out so quickly that Callie later wondered that he hadn’t hurt her.
She doubled over. coughing loudly but got control of herself before she needed to vomit. Far, far back in her mind she was thankful for that and a little pleased with herself. She hacked and gagged and spit and gasped for air for perhaps a minute before returning to her position, kneeling on the farmhouse kitchen floor, her face now covered in her own spit and tears, her makeup streaking and her whole front awash with her drool. She took a moment to quickly run one finger beneath each eye, clearing away tears and eyeliner before looking up once more into that void of a face, this time with a defiant, challenging smirk.
“Ready.”
The throbbing cock parted her lips again and Callie was convinced that it tasted better each time. She tried to place the flavour for a moment and would have giggled at herself had she been able, but he was already thrusting in her mouth, barely going more than halfway to her throat. A sort of gwuh-grunt escaped her and he took his cue.
He entered her throat with greater ease this time, they were both falling into a rhythm, and as Callie’s chin was caressed by his balls a second time she lost herself in another climax. “Uwuh!” she exclaimed and she felt the dick filling her throat throb in answer. Two hands caressed the back of her head, gripped her candy-coloured hair tightly, then he began to thrust.
Callie struggled to keep from toppling to the floor as the ghost began truly fucking her throat in earnest. Each pump was steady and firm and each drove a snorting gasp out of Callie’s nostrils. She squirmed and twisted on the floor beneath this rough but somehow still tender face-fucking and before she knew it she had cum in her pants again. When he pulled out she gasped desperately for air. Callie imagined she looked like a goldfish that had jumped out of its bowl, but then he was back in her. His fingers were knotted in her hair and now, instead of using her full throat, he directed her to bounce on his cock. Most thrusts found there way down her throat, a few did not, every one was accompanied by Callie’s sloppy, almost comical guwack-guwack-guwack sounds.
She came again, whimpering in her ecstasy, but he kept going. He was using her mouth and her throat with equal enthusiasm. She came again and the world started to go dim around her. She felt her eyes rolling back in her head, certain she was about to pass out when he stopped, cock-head resting on the middle of her tongue. The ghost stood perfectly still then there was a thick pulse in her mouth. Drunk from her own orgasmic bliss she pulled back from the massive, ghostly penis and wavered, somehow still balancing on her knees. She pointed urgently at her face and croaked out ‘here’.
Simply doing her best to remain upright, she flinched and nearly lost her balance as her chin and left cheek were suddenly hit with thick, warm rope of fluid. It wasn’t cum, she was sure of that, but it was something very much like it. Sticky and thick but also a little bit runny as some slid down her cheek and dripped onto her neck, she was about to place it when a second jet of it hit her in the face, this time on her right cheek and across the bridge of her nose. Salty creamed honey, she thought wildly as another rope landed on her forehead. She instantly began to dread trying to clean ghost-cum out of her hair later tonight. She closed her eyes just in time for a shot to hit her on the corner of her left eye, then one more – thin and tiny by comparison – landed on her chest right between her tits. Just a little bit thicker, she mused as she used her left index finger to scoop the spectral ejaculate away from her eyes and into her mouth, but for sure salty creamed honey.
There was a gap in Callie’s memory. According to her phone it was close to ten minutes. One moment she was licking up a new, exotic treat and the next she was standing outside, halfway between the farmhouse and her car. Of the storm there was no sign. No distant rumbling, no flashes and the ground was completely dry. She squirmed uncomfortably as she remembered she was still wearing her drenched panties and leggings, but she couldn’t resist walking back toward the farmhouse.
“Hey,” she called out into the still night air. “Hey, buddy. If that was your unfinished business I just helped you with? You’re welcome! I had fun too!”
Turning once more back to her car she strode off, desperately hoping her gym bag was still in the trunk and already planning how she might approach this topic with Hazel. She’d been here first, after all…