Chapter 1: The House on the Hill
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Consensual, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Magic, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Humor, Extra Sensory Perception, Space, Mystery, Spanking, Light Bond, Orgy, Harem, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Petting, Slow, Nudism, .
Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1: The House on the Hill - On an exploratory road trip to the east coast I found the perfect home in New Hampshire. Now, if I could buy it I'd be happy...If I could find someone to sell it...If I could find out who owns it...and what about the fine red lines surrounding the house when it's foggy? Why do most of the old men look alike and why are the women young, buxom, blond and beautiful. But, most of all, what casts the shadows on the windows?
No one in the town knew how long the house on the hill had been there.
"As long as I can remember," said the octogenarian occupant of one the rockers on the front porch of the hotel at the end of Main. "Yessir, as long as my grandaddy could remember and he's been cold in his grave 70 years and more." Then he made liberal use of the brass spittoon between his chair and the next. The occupant of that chair was a spry youngster of 70 or thereabouts.
"You're about to get involved in a story that might take three or four days to tell," he grinned. "That is, if old Jason can remember where he is in the telling."
"Hush your trap," Jason exclaimed. "My memory is as good as it was 50 years ago. I can still drive, can't I? I mightn't be as spry as you, Jake, and I might have to resort to this cane when the weather turns, but I get around."
He swung the cane at Jake, who proved just how spry he was by ducking, laughing all the while.
"Well, son, if you're going to stick around," said Jake ... then he laughed and made his point, "Since the bridges out are flooded you don't have much choice. Go get you a room in this hotel, stop at the bar, get us three beers and pull up that rocker and we'll spin you a tale about that house."
I had arrived in town on the heels of a tropical storm pushed north by contrary winds. The state closed the roads ... actually, the whole damn state closed. I wasn't in any hurry. I had sold my patent to a military equipment conglomerate, and banked six mil after uncle sam.
Six million doesn't sound like much but it was a lot in 1963 ... it was an enormous amount for an unmarried 1960 high school graduate still wet behind the ears.
Anyway, I'd splashed and slithered that backroad into town, turned west on Main and saw that house sitting there ... it was love at first sight.
The house looked tall and thin. Perhaps it had been built in sections, a prominent 4 story center section with a pyramidal tower with a dormer clock and a recessed niche with a balcony railing flanked by two recessed 3 story wings with 4 brass "witches hat" round towers and curved glass mirrored windows. It had a myriad of tall thin windows and it was topped by many tall thin chimneys. Built of cut but rough faced consolidated limestone, it presented an erie but imposing picture against the sunset sky. I knew I was going to live there. There was a light on in the back of what might be the kitchen, but I could raise no answer to my knock.
No one knew who owned it. The county clerk in the court house said the taxes were paid every year by a holding company in Zurich. She even knew the address. I didn't have to bribe her, she just wrote it out for me and gave me the card.
"We get four or five folks interested in that house every year but no one has been able to get a response from Switzerland. The taxes come on time and that's as far as my involvement gets."
Temporarily stymied, I made my way to the hotel and the old men on the porch.
I stepped off the porch and keyed my trunk, gathered my cases and stepped into the lobby of the old hotel. In it's own way it was as imposing as the house. Walnut, oak and quarter sawn maple greeted my amateur gunsmith eye ... very impressive, very well done. A sweeping staircase descended to the lobby from a mezzanine fronting a ballroom. The lobby was old leather and high-backs ... stiff but welcoming furniture for heated dancers. Off to the right was a tidy restaurant of white and black marble. I stepped up to the desk and rang the bell. Jake, from the porch, stepped from an office behind the desk and...
"May I help you, young fellow?"
"Hi Jake, I thought, since I'm stuck here, I'd have a room."
"Oh, you've met my brother. I'm John."
I extended my hand, having dropped my cases by the desk, "Hello John, I'm David Austin. Please don't call me Mr. Austin, I'll be looking over my shoulder for my Dad. Dave is plenty."
"Yes sir, would you like a room with or without?"
"With a bath, please."
"Oh, all our rooms have attached baths. I meant with or without meals."
"I'll take with. Do you have a room or suite that faces the house on the hill?"
"Yes, we do. It will take about half an hour to make it ready, if you'd care to wait. It's a little more expensive than one of the side rooms though. One hundred twenty five dollars ... that's for the week and with meals."
I pulled out my wallet and counted out three hundred in 20's. "I'll take it for two weeks. When that runs out tell me. I mean to buy that house on the hill and I'll stay until I get it done." I turned and kicked my cases, "May I leave these in your care?" I thought a minute, "do you have a safe?"
"Why, yes sir. We do. Do you need a place for valuables?"
I ran out to my car and brought in my small brief case, "Yes, John, I do. Please place this case in the safe."
"For our safety, sir. I need to examine the contents. Will you come with me?"
We stepped into the office, a safe that would grace a New York Banking concern greeted my eye. "Oh my ... that IS impressive."
John gave a grin. "Since the bank failed in '29 we're the only secure facility in town. We don't pay interest and we don't make loans, but it's here when people want it."
We opened the case. John didn't blink an eye. "If you'll count it, then I'll count it and give you a receipt."
One hundred twenty five thousand six hundred sixty four dollars later I had my receipt and John had a relieved look in his eye. I admit I look 16 but I am 21 ... and 26 days. I think he might have been worried about my ability to pay.
"When the maids finish up with your rooms I'll have your belongings put away."
"I need three beers, John."
"Yessir ... Jason is going to tell stories about the house?"
I nodded. He smiled and went through a door on the left side of the lobby.
"Jeffery! I need beer, Jason is going to story the youngster."
Jeffery, identical to Jake and John, staggered out carrying a case of the locally brewed ale. He was followed by two men, who looked suspiciously like Jake, John and Jeff, and three buxom and beautiful young women. They all were grinning.
"Jeff, meet Mr. Austin. He has the tower suite for two weeks ... with."
Jeffery set down the case of ale, wiped his hands on a bar towel and shook mine. "Thank you sir. It's a wonderful room. The beer is four dollars."
I paid and the whole crowd stepped out on the porch. The two men bustled about gathering up ice cream chairs and little round tables. It looked like they had done this before. Jason must be quite the storyteller.
The two men were Jakes' grand sons, the young women, Jasons' great granddaughters.
Before the introductions were over the case ran out of beer. I handed Jeff two 20's and said, "Jeff, shame on you, we're out of beer. You shouldn't let that happen again."
"I won't sir."