Thirteen Steps

by

Caution: This Romantic Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, .

Desc: Romantic Story: Not the ghost they were expecting...

"Oh shit!" my lover gasped, as he heard the footsteps coming up the steps. "I thought you said your husband was out of town!"

I collapsed, laughing. His huge cock that I was so fond of shrank instantly. It almost looked like my husbands' like that. Unlike his though, it would grow quite a bit bigger, with the right encouragement. Nine and a half inches at full mast. I know, because I measured it. My husband wasn't lacking, but his not quite seven inches just couldn't compete.

"Don't panic, baby. The hubby is three states away, busy making money to keep me in the style I deserve. That's just Wilfred."

"Who the fuck is Wilfred?" he asked, watching the door closely.

"Wilfred is our ghost. He's harmless. I'd tell you about him, but I've got something else on my mind just now. I'll tell you when we're done."

I dove down, licking and sucking with enthusiasm, loving the way it felt as it grew to the point I almost couldn't keep it in my mouth. I still couldn't deep throat him, but I was working on it.

When he was as hard as he was going to get I switched ends, getting on my knees and wiggling my ass.

He wasn't exactly gentle, ramming his monster into me quickly, but this wasn't our first go round of the night, and I was more than lubricated. I screamed, beat the bed with my hands, squealed as he mauled my tits, twisting the nipples as he got closer to his eruption. He fucked me through three orgasms before he blew. Despite it being the third time tonight, he filled me to overflowing. We fell down on the bed together, and I rolled him on his back, and did what I called 'clean up duties'. When his cock was shiny and clean, I lay back, resting my head on his stomach.

Damn it all, if he was fifteen years older and had any money, my hubby would be history so fast archaeologists would have a hard time finding him. That was a lie. I loved my husband, At least I thought I did. These last few months had me rethinking that. How could I love someone and still betray him so badly? Still working that out.

But my boytoy was in college and broke, pursuing an English degree. He had dreams of being a teacher. Lots of bucks there, I'm sure. Nope, he was just a fuck toy, plain and simple. I'm sure sooner or later I'd get tired of him and his equipment. But I had a taste now, and I knew I would be on the prowl for a replacement as soon as he left.

He toyed with my hair while I blew hot air across his cock, giggling when it twitched. I might just get another ride out of him tonight.

"Who the fuck is Wilfred?"

"This house is a hundred and five years old. Wilfred was the original owner. He built this monstrosity for his wive and the thirteen kids they ended up with. Unfortunately, his wife was fucking around on him, and she and her lover heard him coming up the steps on a night he was supposed to be out of town. Known for his bad temper, she panicked, grabbed a shotgun and blew his head off, just as he reached the top of the stairs. If you peel off the new wallpaper we installed a few years ago, you can still see the blood spatter on the original woodwork. One of the oldest children heard the noise and discovered them. His testimony led to them both getting hung. Wilfred's buried in the family graveyard at the top of the hill behind the house. No one really knows where they buried his wife or her lover. Right after that people started hearing the steps, but could never find anybody, so legend has it that Wilfred keeps climbing those stairs at the same time every night, hoping for a better ending. It's been documented for the last ninety-three years, and he's never hurt anybody."

I keep forgetting how young he was. He listened like a kid at a campfire while the counselors told ghost stories. "Doesn't it creep you out?"

I shrugged. "It's creepy the first few times, but you get used to it. I hardly ever think about it anymore. He was actually company when hubby wasn't around, until I found you. Josh is Wilfred's great-grandson. He resembles Wilfred, especially when he sports facial hair.

I don't like the way it feels, so I make him stay clean shaven."

"Your husband must be a first class pussy, the way you boss him around."

I had to giggle again. The only thing big about Damien(Yes, Damien)is his cock, sprouting out of a slender body, five-nine and a hundred forty-five pounds. I did a side-by-side comparison in my mind, and giggled again. Josh was six-one and two hundred five pounds, very, very little of it fat. He's an excellent lover, if he just had another two inches I would have never strayed. It would be very, very, very ugly if he ever found out. And at the very least, I'd be looking for a new home.

"He's not a wimp, honey, he's in fact a strong and virile man, who could probably kill you without breaking a sweat. That's why I make absolutely sure he's never in the same state when we get together. He just does what I ask because he loves me. And trust me, if he doesn't want to do something, no force on earth can make him. But enough about him, ready to go again? You haven't done my ass yet, and it's a little jealous."

I'd been stroking him lightly while we talked, pausing for a long, slow lick now and then. When I said 'ass' he got iron hard. Soon as he had me loosened up with the butt plug, he fucked the shit out of me, literally.

The next morning we showered together, going back to bed for another round. Then we went back to the shower, where I ended up blowing him. I swear, I think he was getting hard again when I gave him a hundred dollars for gas money and sent him back to the dorms. Hey, I wasn't paying him to fuck me, but I was grateful, and college guys are always broke.

I sighed as I stripped the bed, opening the windows to get the smell of sex out. I liked the smell, but I doubt Josh would, especially since he didn't cause it. As usual after my lover left, I started feeling guilty. I should end it while I'm ahead, and safe from discovery. Without a doubt, if he ever found out, the situation would end in 'D' words. Divorce if I was lucky, death if I wasn't. I'd seen Josh lose his temper twice in his life, and neither time was pretty.

The first time occurred about two years after we got married. We'd stopped at a light. There was a bus stop on that corner. It was pouring down rain, and three big guys were pushing a young girl out into the downpour, laughing like crazy. Josh was out of the car before I knew it. He helped the girl up, they'd pushed her down that time and she landed in a puddle.

She was almost hysterical and Josh soothed her while the boys, late teens at least, continued to laugh.

"Miss, would you like us to take you home, or at the very least to another bus stop? Or would you prefer we stay until your bus arrives? I'm sure these gentlemen(the sarcasm heavy in his voice as he said gentlemen)would be happy to share the cover with you."

The young guys had obviously been drinking, and it made them brave. "Fuck off, asshole, before we have to teach you not to mess with the Hidden Valley Romeos."

Josh actually laughed. "What kind of name is that? It sounds like it would belong to a gay boy band. Is that it, you wanted to share a romantic interlude with each other and didn't want her to see it? Relax, being a queer isn't that bad these days. I'm sure your parents still love you."

They were so stunned they didn't know what to say at first. Then the anger kicked in. One pulled a knife, and I cringed as it snapped open.

"You just fucked up, dickhead. You're gonna have to pay for that. Gimme your money, and if it's not enough we'll take it out in trade with your ol' lady. She looks hot."

"Josh had been standing there with a half-grin on his face until he mentioned me. Before anyone could react, he slapped one, bring his hand down instead of across, the pop extremely loud, blinding the man temporarily. Josh just kept moving, shooting a side kick out, dislocating the kneecap of a second, leaving only the guy with the knife.

"Take your best shot, pussy boy. I'm gonna take that little blade away from you, use it to whittle out your ass so I can get my hand inside. Then I'm going to jam it so far up you you'll taste the shit coming out of your throat. Now would be a good time to run."

He'd taken off his jacket, and had wrapped it around his arm. Then he started for the boy. Just before he got to him the boy threw down the blade and ran by him. Josh had timed it right, and just as he cleared the cover he got a tremendous kick in the ass. Bladeboy slid through a puddle, face down, getting soaked. He didn't look back for his friends as he ran away. They had gotten up, and were hobbling away as fast as they could. He stepped in front of them, pointing at the girl.

"She has my name and number. One more repeat of the bullshit we just went through, and you'll never, ever make that mistake again, because you'll be dead. Now crawl back under your rock before a predator finds you and eats you for the worms you are."

I was still shaking as we waited until the bus picked up the girl. "Don't ever do anything like that again! You could have been killed!"

He actually laughed. "There was a better chance of me being struck by lightning than those idiots hurting me. They were drunk, and stupid. It didn't exactly make them dangerous, unless they would have pulled a gun."

Curiosity got the better of me. "What would you have done if they'd pulled a gun?"

There was no emotion at all in his voice as he adjusted the rear view mirror. "Why, I'd have shot them, of course."

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