The Old Mansion on Ninth Street

It’s not always easy to be the Old Mansion up on Ninth Street. For one thing, my memory is not as good as it used to be, probably because I have so much more to remember (or to forget!), but also, I have all the usual complaints of advancing age. Women (or is it men? — I forget) are always complaining about their internal plumbing. I realize it’s annoying for humans, but what about me? I’ve got plumbing complaints galore. First, there’s the men who seem unable to judiciously aim their urine at my large toilet bowls. Some of them clearly need washers to control their streams.

Let’s not forget all those constipated people (politicians are the worst) who are always clogging the toilets. At least after a good clog, they’re no longer full of shit. No, you’re right, they’re still full of shit. Indiana has some mighty shitty politicians. Then there are the idiots who try to flush tampons down the toilets. I suspect they’re the daughters of said politicians. And, of course, there’s the drunken women who lose their earrings (and in one case even a wedding ring) down the sink drains, and for those events, a plumber needs to be called.

The structural woes are legendary. There’s the old, decaying pipes, a mixture of copper, iron, and plastic pipes filling up my basement; the heating ducts covered in asbestos back when humans thought that was a smart thing to do; and please, please, please don’t get me started on termites. I also detest field mice, cockroaches, and the arch enemy of any God-fearing old home, those damnable squirrels!

I’m giving the wrong impression. I’m not a grumpy old mansion filled with hate; rather I’m filled with love, lots of love over the years, much of it expressed physically and lovingly in any of several of my many bedrooms. There are also the people who just prefer dark corners of various rooms. Every time a couple gets it on in my mansion, I get a tingly feeling, and if the woman has a genuine climax, I feel it all the way to my cedar siding!

It’s been a while. Old Man Snickers’ daughter, Sondra, now Sondra Souleiado since she married, moved out of me, long ago. When she was in her twenties, however, every Halloween she’d throw a wild party, and all sorts of twenty-something people would show up, for the top shelf booze, and the delicious snacks, the great music on the sound system, and the rather spectacular decorations. Sondra went all out!

Sondra’s party atmosphere, plus I guess the special nature of Halloween, led to quite a bit of sex. Men and women hooking up for the first, or the tenth, time in one of my many bedrooms, or cheating on their girlfriends or boyfriends, or just simply swapping partners, I tell you it was wild, and if they did it in a room with mirrors, I got to see (and of course hear) everything! It was quite thrilling for an old mansion like me.

Sondra herself, however, was not a happy person, and she moved out of the house in her early twenties, and she almost never returns. She’s not close to her father, and everyone thinks she’s nuts from the times she was constantly ranting and raving about ghosts. I could have told everyone what happened with Sondra, to cause her essentially to lose her mind, but nobody asked me. Anyway, she’s married now, so I hope her sanity has returned, and that she is back to being the wonderful Sondra we all knew and loved before the ghosts intervened in her sweet mind and body. It was one ghost in particular, I believe.

Speaking of sexual escapades within my walls, one time a woman got it on with two men at once, but I blush even to think of it, and trust me, you do not want to see an old mansion blush. People tend to call the fire department when I blush. Not good. It is, however, fascinating (and super-hot!) to watch a woman in the middle of a spit roast, all the more so if the woman is Nancy Eber, let me tell you! More recently there’s Michelle Deutsch, and she is just an angel on legs, in my humble opinion. The men she wraps her legs around agree enthusiastically, I’m sure!

Mostly, however, I’m just ignored, and taken for granted, except of course by my owner, Old Man Snickers, and his extended family, especially on special occasions. The highlight of the year, for me at least, is the annual Halloween party. Old Man Snickers’ grandson Peter, now twenty years old, is planning to recreate the magic of Sondra’s parties. He has one hell of a party planned for this year, and it will start tomorrow evening! I can’t wait.

** THE NEXT DAY, OCTOBER 31 **

I’m excited. Peter’s been decorating me for several days already, and I am truly spruced up! I have never looked so good before, nor so scary! The adorable little trick or treaters that stop by (they all seem to think I’m haunted, and you can see the fear on their faces when they come to the door; it’s so cute!) are given a choice of premium candy, or of course a full-size Snickers candy bar, a long tradition started by Peter’s grandfather.

The belief that I’m a haunted old mansion is of course bunk. Mostly. You see, John Jacob Snickers, my owner’s great, great uncle, died tragically after his wife fell victim to an intruding rapist. The rapist had tied up his wife, spread eagle and naked on the bed, and then raped her repeatedly, while John Jacob was passed out on the floor, being completely drunk.

John Jacob’s wife Annelies died of a brain aneurism either during or right after the rape, and John Jacob didn’t even realize she was dead when he himself woke from his drunken stupor. Seeing her naked and tied up, with a thoroughly wet pussy, he immediately fucked her. She was wet down there, and rapidly losing body temperature, but she was still somewhat warm.

The loss of his dear and lovely wife, and the realization he had engaged in necrophilia, led to the loss of his already somewhat questionable sanity, and one day he went down to the basement and drowned himself in the sump pump.

It’s not easy to drown yourself in a sump pump, but apparently John Jacob achieved that task with an enormous amount of help from his lifelong friend, Jack Daniels. Ever since, Tennessee mash whiskey has been banned from the Snickers Mansion.

Snickers men now drink Bourbon, and occasionally some Scotch whisky, but only if it’s of legal age, which is widely considered to be eighteen years old, even if the age of consent in Indiana (and 33 other states) is sixteen.

The rumors are that John Jacob haunts the old mansion, always looking for some Jack Daniels whiskey, and never finding any. Or maybe, he’s still looking for his beautiful, long-lost wife, Annelies van Dryden. Or, of course, it could be both. Or neither. Nobody really knows, of course, not even me, the old mansion who has seen everything, and then some.

The trick or treaters have all left now, and it’s only a few hours to go before the adult guests arrive for the big, blowout party! Peter has tested the sound system already, and he’s just now putting on the mood music to welcome the guests. I love it when Peter plays music; he has great taste as a DJ.

The tradition is that many of my bedrooms and dark corners are used during the Halloween Parties for some hanky-panky fun. I hope it’s the case this year. Usually it’s just kissing, necking, hands exploring, and some undressing. Many a woman is rendered topless at these parties. Some people, however, go father. I love watching lovers engaged in love-making.

It’s true I’m a house, and therefore have no mouth and cannot speak. Everyone knows, however, that walls have ears, and mirrors can see, and so I can see and hear most everything. What I’ll bet you don’t know is that I can smell, too! I can smell quite well, in fact; better than most people, but not as well as some dogs. Sex, real actual sex, has a distinctive smell, and one which I, for one house, really love.

I communicate with Peter via texting (a big Thank You, Steve Jobs!). I’m not sure about the details of how I am able to text, but I think it involves some kind of a new Goddess named Siri? Or maybe Alexa? I don’t understand it at all, I’m just an old house after all, and not a rocket scientist, but it’s thrilling to be able to speak to Peter via texting. On his phone my name is OSM, for the Old Snickers Mansion.

Peter has asked me to help him to get laid this year, so I have my work cut out for me! The man is twenty years old and terrified of sex; he’s still a virgin, can you believe it?

I mean I’m a house, and an old one at that, but from all I know, which over the years has become a lot, Peter is a hunk! He has a healthy head of hair, broad shoulders, and muscular legs. He has the body hair of males of his species, but not too much; he doesn’t have fur, nor resemble a bear. Okay, he wears glasses; but he removes them when he goes to kiss a girl. The girls don’t seem to mind, especially not Joanie.

He has a deep voice, which is naturally mellifluous. His hands are large and calloused, indicating an honest life of hard labor, but when he touches my walls (and boy, do I love when he does that!), I can tell his hands are gentle, and reflect a delicate soul. He has a winning smile, and good teeth. He’s also rich, being the heir to the Snickers fortune, so I think, all-in-all, he’s a real catch.

It’s just a damn pity he’s so shy around women, and the prettier and the sexier they are, the shyer he becomes. I’ve been hiding away some very old Scotch whisky to help him get over his inertia when it comes to his opposite sex. That, plus the magic of Halloween, has given me high hopes.

People think of houses as female. In French it’s la maison, not le maison, after all. In Spanish and Italian, both, it’s la casa. In German it’s das haus and is neuter, but then, it’s German, and who cares? In Russian дом is masculine (I think), but then, that’s Russian, right? Hey, I’m a house; just be glad I know English, okay?

I think it’s natural for a house to be female, because people (and yes, unfortunately field mice, and those damnable squirrels) are always entering and leaving. I’m definitely female. I’m right there with every sexy babe who has ever been laid in my house, and I’m hoping quite a few will experience the thrill of Halloween sex in the Old Snickers Mansion this very night!

The first people are arriving! How exciting! Oh. How disappointing; they’re just four guys, the best of Peter’s guy friends. Well, it’s nice they came early, since it gives the party a vibe for when the real guests arrive. The guys are already drinking pretty seriously. I sent a text to Peter to hold off on the booze for a bit; I don’t want his abilities impaired, when the time comes, you know? In my experience, girls like to get tipsy, or even downright drunk, but they prefer their men on the sober side of smashed. Keep your powder dry, I texted Peter. Thank goodness, he’s not metaphor impaired. He’s actually quite intelligent, I find.

There’s my bell. I love it when they ring my bell, instead of just knocking. It’s like ringing my chimes, even if the chimes are by the back door. Of course, they could just walk in; Peter left the door open with a sign to come on in. Ringing the bell, though, is a nice touch. I feel it all the way down to my sump pump!

You can even hear the bell ring, since the music is not yet that loud. It’s a lovely sound, my doorbell. Oh! It’s that blonde bombshell Stephanie Bravac and her husband Sam Something. They married fairly young. The word is that Stephanie was pregnant, and the marriage was rushed; however, no child ever appeared. Maybe it was a false alarm? Or maybe she had a miscarriage? Anyway, the end result is: they’re married.

Sam is the Sam who owns half the gas stations of the entire county. He even sells porno magazines at the service station out by the Interstate, probably for the long-haul truckers, I’d surmise, but of course being an old mansion and stuck in the town center on Ninth Street, I really wouldn’t know.

Stephanie’s probably too old for Peter, and at the same time, too young for Sam Something. I think she’s 23, maybe 24, and anyway, already married, not that being married ever stops anyone. Tonight, however, there’s two problems: One is that she’s rumored to be loyal to her husband, and the other is that her husband is right there, with her. If you have a pretty wife with the curves, face, legs, bubble ass, and boobs of Stephanie, you watch her like a hawk. I’m sure he trusts her, but Ronald Reagan himself always said, “Trust, but verify.”

Ironically, Stephanie is dressed to be a scarecrow. I mean, seriously? In that outfit every male crow from miles around will flock to her, just for a little taste, you know? Well, maybe I exaggerate. Old mansions tend to exaggerate; it makes our creaky lives more fun. I think she’s not even wearing a bra, and that we can see her nipples right through her costume. She must be driving Sam Something nuts. Maybe the word on her that she doesn’t fool around with others is out of date? I’ll have to keep a mirror on her. Several men are drooling over the sight of her, already!

Oh boy, more Halloween revelers have arrived! Zeke and Miguel have shown up, and almost at the same time, but independently, Joanie and Melissa are here. Let the party begin! Joanie and Melissa are my favorite candidates for Peter’s great deflowering. I remember Melissa’s eighteenth birthday, because her much older Dom is a friend of Old Man Snickers. He brought Melissa over and they ganged up on her, and she didn’t mind even one little bit. I have this image of her, lying naked on her back in one of my many bedrooms (modesty prevents me from telling you which one), holding a hard cock in each hand, while Old Man Snickers uses his right hand to explore her sumptuous pussy.

When Melissa’s Dom and Old Man Snickers progressed to the next stage, I got to learn what a fetching moan Melissa has. She even moaned louder when Old Man Snickers enjoyed her than when her own Dom did. I always wondered if she was later punished for having done that? You’ve gotta love that young wench of a girl. She’s a great candidate to deflower Peter tonight. I’ll keep a mirror on her, you can bet on that!

Joanie, however, is my sentimental favorite. She’s smart, gregarious, and with a fierce sense of humor. She’s also sexy as hell. Okay, okay, what does a house, an old mansion no less, know about a woman being sexy, you ask? Puh-lenty! Just consider her costume: Tonight, she’s coming as a street-walker version of Hermione Granger.

Yeah, Joanie’s boobs are much too big to be believable when it comes to Hermione, and true, they’re practically falling out of her costume, and the skirt she has on? One false move and everyone will see her panties; assuming she’s even wearing any. You never know with that sexpot. The long, paired braids just make everything all the more fetching. Not very much like Hermione, I guess; but remember: she’s the street walker version!

I wish there were mirrors on the floor, but alas, until there’s some good fortune with a false move, I’m in the dark as much as everyone else, when it comes to Joanie’s panties. A big advantage for Hermione, I mean Joanie, in my book, is that she’s got a crush on Peter! This is just what the doctor ordered: A sexpot with a crush on Peter. Let’s hope she doesn’t scare him off, but then, who has ever gotten scared on Halloween? Oh, yeah; Everyone!

The floodgates have opened. The whole place is filling up with revelers. Peter’s party is going to be a smashing success. Oh, goodie: they’re all heading over to my tiki room! This is a party hearty, let’s get drunk on our asses, kind of crowd. Tonight, will be memorable, for sure!

My tiki room: I had one before it was fashionable, even before Walt put one in Disneyland or the Magic Kingdom. Mine is filled with Polynesian liquors and delicacies, but without singing robot birds. You want some tequila? Come to my tiki room. Mezcal? Come to my tiki room. Genuine Barbados rum? I’ve got it in my tiki room. Beer, wine? Hell, no. No Scotch whisky, no Irish whiskey, no Canadian Rye whiskey, no Bourbon, and no Aquavit. If my room had those, it wouldn’t be tiki, now would it? It does have plenty of Okolehao!

My tiki has over fifty different kinds of rum. The Old Snickers Mansion takes its booze seriously. These party goers have already started the Great Halloween Drain of my liquor supply. No worries, though: Old Man Snickers has standing orders for replacement booze. Good thing, too, because Sam Something is hitting the bottle fairly hard, and it’s only 9 o’clock in the PM!

Sally, Susie, and Marcia are all here, now. They’re all pretty girls, and they are bona fide good time girls, too. Oh my, they just pulled three guys onto the dance floor. AC/DC music will do that to a girl; it’s great music to dance to. Peter had a vertical pole installed in my ballroom; maybe Susie will do her famous strip tease later, if the guys pour enough booze down her throat. Susie has great boobs. All the guys think so, and probably all the guys have seen them already, too. She never lets the guys taste her boobs, though. With Susie, the guys can look, sure, but they cannot touch. Susie is not what you’d call a private, shy girl. Marcia, on the other hand, has a talented mouth, famous in three counties. She has mastered her gag reflex; and then there’s Sally.

Sally does not beget superlatives. She simply has a quiet way about her. If she sets her sights on a given man, let’s say Harry, like last year at this time, the guy just doesn’t have a chance. She’ll have him eating out of her hand. If she’s in the mood, and he takes her somewhere quiet and alone, she’ll also have him eating her out. Sally just simply loves oral sex, especially if she’s the recipient of it. A man who gives good cunnilingus is a rare animal; they all want blowjobs, but they’re men, so typically, it’s all about them. You know, if Peter could get Sally alone and somehow manage to get her undressed enough to eat her out, then after her first real orgasm, she’ll destroy his virginal status in a heartbeat. I’d bet my chandelier on it.

Okay, here it is. Well, that didn’t take long. Jane and Philip have hooked up, and Philip is looking for an empty bedroom. Scuttlebutt is that Philip has been after Jane for ages, but she has resisted, remaining pure, saving herself for marriage. Tonight, however, Jane is already drunk, and she seems to be quite randy! Maybe this is Philip’s lucky night? Time will tell.

All my bedrooms are empty, Philip — you don’t need to be so fussy; It’s only 10:00PM, after all. You and Jane are the first. Jane might be having second thoughts. She seems a little reluctant; but then, she’s the nervous type. She must know she wants it too, but she wants Philip to work a little harder to get it. After all, if she’s going to put out for him, make him her first, she wants to make sure it means something. Women are like that.

So, she’s resisting. He actually has to pull her into the bedroom. She’s crying a little. Ah, he’s kissing her, and whispering reassuring sweet nothings to her. They really are nothings, too. That’s exactly what she means to him: Nothing. Forget your hopes and dreams, Jane. The best you can hope for is to get an orgasm out of it. Pretty unlikely, too, from what I hear about Philip’s technique, but then Halloween is a time for surprises, of course.

Philip’s got Jane naked now; it’s the first time a man has rendered her stark naked. She had always been too shy, too nervous, to be naked in the back seat of a Camry, or any other car, short of a Tesla Model S. Jane has a nice little body. Perky boobs, and hard nipples. The girl is a prize. I’m enjoying seeing Jane gradually, almost painfully gradually, let Philip remove her clothes. Oh my: Jane’s raised her hips, and Philip is gently pulling off her panties, and now, now, we have nudity in bedroom #2!

Philip is pretty nice, too, with a six pack and a handsome face. Good teeth. Jane’s keeping her legs together, but saying nothing as Philip puts on a condom. Oh, yeah; this is happening. I hope she has a nice climax, because if she does, my cedar shingles will shake, and I just love it when that happens. The women don’t realize I share their orgasmic pleasure, but I do. Boy, do I!

Philip has a nice cock. It’s good and hard and ready to go. He’s kissing Jane, now. Smart move, Philip; don’t rush things. The girl is a nervous wreck. She’s going to love it, we all know that, but don’t rush it. Make her beg. She’s kissing him back, but she’s too damn passive. She should use her hands on him. I tell you, youth is wasted on the young. Still, even if she is just lying there, knees held tightly together, Philip’s desire has not waned, not even a little.

Philip’s fingers are going full bore, and finally, Jane is moaning. Her legs are not yet spreading, but I think it’s inevitable that they will. Philip is moving into position. Jane’s eyes show fear, but she’s kissing Philip anyway. He’s playing with her boobs. Jane’s a goner: Her chaste days are over. This is going to happen.

She’s loving it. Good for Jane! Philip’s moving now; he’s got on top of her. They’re still kissing, and he’s playing with her boobs. Her legs are beginning to spread, just a little. Philip can see some daylight between her thighs. It’s a not a lot, but it’s a start.

There it is! Her knees are no longer touching. There’s a smidgeon of daylight between Jane’s adorably shapely thighs. Philip is spreading them. Jane is making token resistance, but she’s letting Philip spread her thighs, no question. She’s opening up the promised land. Now Philip is in between her thighs. He’s positioning himself. He’s ready, and dammit all, he can’t find the hole. Teenagers are so awkward. I can’t stand it. Patience, old house. Give the kids some time; they’ll work it out.

Jane should be bronzed. She’s reached down and grabbed Philip’s condom covered cock, and she’s guiding him in! Now, we’re talking. He’s slipping it in, and Jane is already groaning with pleasure, or pretending to, it’s hard to tell which. Oh my; this is good theater! Philip is pumping away, and Jane is raising her tummy to meet his thrusts, and this is some serious fucking. I have my first fuck of the night, and it’s a good one, too!

We have a virgin being deflowered in bedroom #2!

Don’t condemn me. I’m not a voyeur; I’m just an old mansion who spends most of her days bored out of her nonexistent mind. You can’t really blame me for enjoying two lovebirds getting it on, can you?

Fifteen minutes. Not bad for Philip. Jane faked a climax at the end. She must truly like Philip. I wish I could think he likes her, too, but I suspect he’s just using her for sex. She’ll take it hard when she finally realizes it, I imagine, but she’ll get over it. That’s a benefit of being young.

Okay; moving on.

Hard rock is on the sound system. The party now is going full bore. It’s about time, too, since it’s already 11PM. A lot of the girls are tipsy, and a lot of the guys are drunk. Stephanie looks upset, because her hubby Sam is falling-down drunk. Whoa; he just passed out, and boy, is she disgusted with him!

Gotta text Peter. He’s always had a crush on Stephanie, and this is his big chance! Maybe she’ll be up for a little revenge sex? That is, if she’s mad at Sam for passing out drunk, yet again from what I hear, and not just disappointed. I can’t tell which.

Peter is as strong as an ox, and he carrying Sam, fireman carry style, to one of my many guest bedrooms. Oh my; it’s bedroom #5, a bedroom quite close by to where Philip and Jane have just fucked! Stephanie can smell the sex in the air; I can tell. She’s smiling wickedly to herself. Perhaps the idea is planted. Right there, in front of her passed out husband, she’s thanking Peter and pulling him in for what she must be telling herself if just a thank you kiss. I’ve seen Peter kiss women before; he’s good at it. Oh yes; Stephanie is charmed. That kiss was a hell of a lot more than just a thank you kiss! Stephanie is definitely interested. Peter’s interest is a given. They’re whispering to each other, but in the middle of the room, far from the walls; I can’t hear!

**

Uh-oh. Old Man Snickers has found Melissa! He’s taking her to bedroom #4, the one where Sam is passed out. The Old Man has smelling salts. All three of them are now naked. Melissa has Old Man Snickers’ cock in her mouth, already! Sam is with it enough now to know what to do, as he enters Melissa from behind. Does Melissa protest? Oh, no! In fact, she says, “Oh yeah. You feel so good.” So, Sam is cheating on Stephanie, and Melissa is being spit roasted. I am beside myself in paroxysms of voyeuristic heaven, here! Okay, alright, maybe I am in fact a bit of a voyeur.

We have a spit roast in bedroom #4!

**

Talk about distractions, I hadn’t even seen the Stockard twins enter the party, yet there they are! Julie is Catwoman, and her costume is to die for, showing off her boobs right through the partially transparent costume, and — of course — those fabulous nipples for which she is known. Her twin brother Roger is Batman. I think Julie dressed him or something, because boy, does he look great!

I’m getting wet around the sump pump area, just looking at that incarnation of testosterone. Of course, the scuttlebutt among the hotels is that they’re incestuous twins. I heard it directly from the Holiday Inn Express out by the Interstate, and also the Ramada Inn at the other Interstate exit, where Sam Something’s service station sells the porno mags. (I wish I could remember Sam’s last name. My memory is just not what it should be!)

According to my friend Holiday, later confirmed by my acquaintance Ramada, Julie is a screamer, and like no other. Holiday assures me that I’ll feel her climaxes right down to my foundation, and every single cedar shingle on my south side will shiver. I guess I don’t have to tell you, that would be great! Of course, none of the humans are supposed to know about their incest; they try to be discreet about it. I imagine that’s hard to do, when you’re a screamer.

Julie is now going into one of my bedrooms, however, with Zeke. It’s bedroom #3. Did the incestuous couple have a falling out? Or is this just a diversion, so nobody will suspect the incest? I was so looking forward to “the scream.” Well, maybe Zeke will do it for her? Oh my, Zeke is tying her up, naked, spread eagle on the bed. I think, if I heard right, she even asked him to do it! Julie is quite the libertine, it seems!

Julie reminds me of someone, but I just can’t place it! First, I can’t remember Sam Something’s last name, and now I can’t place who Julie reminds me of. *Sigh * She also has a birthmark on her right thigh, very close to her kitten. That’s vaguely familiar, too. I need to eat some jellyfish or something; I heard that’s good for the memory? Not a lot of it around, though, here in mid-north central Indiana. It’s too bad the only thing old mansions eat is insulation. Somehow, we can just never get enough insulation, you know?

Zeke has Julie completely restrained, and he’s fingering her. Smart move, Zeke. She’s getting all worked up; her breathing is getting ragged, she’s raising her tummy, and — oh boy! — now he’s licking at her kitten. Maybe she’ll scream? No, she’s faking a climax. Now she’s asking him to come over so that she can blow him. Boy, that didn’t take long! Wow — she’s swallowing all of it, too! Not too many in her peer group do that. Zeke has a smile on his face that just won’t stop!

Zeke is good looking, and he can really lay on the charm, but ultimately, he is a bit of a creep, after all. For example, now that he’s filled up Julie’s sweet mouth with his splooge, he can’t wait to get out of the bedroom and away from her. No after-sex cuddling for him! He’s getting dressed, and leaving Julie, still tied up, ravished and naked, lying spread eagle on the bed, with a big smile on her face. Why is she smiling as she watches Zeke’s ass leave the room? He’s used her for sex, and is leaving her naked, and vulnerable. That usually does not beget a smile.

Oh! I get it! Zeke was just the warm up act. Here comes Roger, her twin, sneaking in, and shedding his clothes faster than a NY driver honks his horn at the car in front of him when the light changes. (No, I’ve just heard that. Mansions don’t get around too much; we’re pretty much tied to our foundations. Thank goodness for the trailer gossip!)

This party is turning out great. My cedar shingles are tingling in expectation! Oh my, Roger really does know how to get to his sister. He has her begging. He’s really insisting she do that? Talk about humiliation! I didn’t hear about any of this from the Holiday Inn Express, nor of course from the Ramada. Maybe they need more mirrors in their rooms? I should get to know the Hilton Garden Inn a little better, I suppose. Roger freed Julie in order to — and I can’t believe it — do that? He’s urinating on her. Isn’t that disgusting? She’s into it, though; she’s giggling hysterically. She has such an adorable giggle. It’s a good thing I have an en suite in that bedroom! It shouldn’t be too hard to clean up the urine from the tiled floor. I really don’t like having urine on my floors.

Okay, now she’s bent over the sink and he’s spreading her legs. It’s time for the main event. Wow — she’s already so wet, she’s dripping! I can feel it on the bathroom floor. Okay, okay, and yes! It’s in!

We have incest in bedroom #3!

Oh my, Julie is so very reactive. No shrinking violet is she. She’s calling out her pleasure, and in Italian to boot! Is that really Italian, though? I don’t think it’s Spanish. Maybe it’s Portuguese? Or French? Rumanian? Whatever it is, her meaning is clear. It’s kind of universal: More, faster, harder, deeper! Am I right?

Roger is really putting the meat to Julie. I mean, the man is rough with his sister, and she’s loving it. Now, with each thrust he’s adding one hell of a slap on her ass. Even though her ass is becoming as red as a rose, she seems to love it. What a pain and humiliation queen she is! When she screams, though, if the Holiday Inn Express is right, won’t people come running?

Julie’s screams at the Holiday Inn were so loud and blood curdling that hotel security used their passkey to burst into the room to save Julie. At least, that’s what this old mansion heard. The man caught the two lovers as Roger had just pulled out and was squirting all over Julie’s boobs. The rumor is that Julie just looked at the security guy, not even trying to hide her nudity, and told him to “get the fuck out” of their room! After that, the two lovers began to use the Ramada Inn. It has thicker walls, apparently.

Roger is now tying Julie to the bed. Apparently, there’s to be a round two. Young lovers are so virile. I can’t wait. I’m tingling just a bit in expectation of Julie’s amazing scream. She’s more than just a soprano; she’s a coloratura soprano. What a woman! Go for it, Roger!

Okay, back to Peter and Stephanie, just for a bit. I don’t want to miss Julie’s scream! However, Peter is the son of my owner, and as such, I owe him. Peter’s taken Stephanie’s hand and he is leading her away, to the south bedroom (Bedroom #2). Good for you, Peter! This could be it! They’re kissing again, and Peter’s taking some chances, feeling up her boobs right through her clothes. Oh boy, now he’s pushing her top up and she’s raising her arms to help him! She’s taking her bra off herself. Oh my, she really does have great boobs. Even I, a jaded old mansion who’s seen everything, am impressed. Stephanie’s boobs are not only a work of art, they are perfection itself.

Yes, Peter, there’s more to a woman than her boobs, and now he’s got her on the bed, kissing her lips, playing with her boobs, and unsnapping her skirt. He’s peeling her skirt off her, and she’s letting him! She whispers something about symmetry, and Peter stands up and strips down to his boxers. Oh yes, good for you girl, as she’s gesturing to Peter to remove his boxers, too! Peter has such a delightful body; he’s ripped. And if you like your men hard, then Peter is for you!

Stephanie still has her black lace panties on, but yes, Peter is going for them, and sure enough, off they go! Now they’re both naked! Just how drunk is Stephanie, anyway? Peter must be in seventh heaven; I know many nights I’ve watched him beat his meet, while he imagines what Stephanie’s naked body must look like, and now, he knows! I know he was fantasizing of Stephanie, because I texted him and asked him. To my surprise, he went up to the wall of his room, and whispered Stephanie, just for me. After that, though, he covered the mirrors in his room when he wanted to jerk off, so that I couldn’t see. I didn’t mind; the poor soul should be allowed some privacy, after all.

Peter just stands and take in the view. Stephanie doesn’t seem to mind; she’s not in a rush. Sam is down for the count, and she’s furious at him. He’s done this to her just too many times. In fact, Stephanie seems to be enjoying the effect her naked body, exposed and willing, seems to be having on Peter. His own peter is hard and sticking straight out, ready to go. Her kitten is moist, glistening with moisture. The stage is all set, but Peter is not moving, just standing there! Has he become a pillar of salt in front of Gomorrah?

Stephanie’s beginning to squirm. She knows something is wrong. Peter is supposed to be lapping this up, seizing the moment to be intimate with the woman of his wet dreams for so many years. Why isn’t he?

Peter stood there, clearly torn. “You’re very beautiful, Stephanie,” he finally spoke.

“Thank you. I’m glad you think so. Now get over here and do your male duties, Peter,” she said.

“You’re married, and I like Sam,” Peter said, and even I, an old mansion, could tell he didn’t want to have to say that. I texted him: This is not the time to be ethical Peter. A beautiful woman wants you, and even is asking for you!

“I like Sam, too, Peter, but our marriage is not working. We’re getting a divorce,” Stephanie said. “So you see, your conscience should be clear. Please, Peter?” She wiggled her hips, which seductively moved both her kitten and her boobs. Peter couldn’t stand it. He approached the bed.

Stephanie had lied about the forthcoming divorce, but now that she had said it, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, divorce might not be a good idea? After all, she was about to cheat on Sam for the first time. He had been having some erectile dysfunction issues for some time now, and she’s sure his booze habit hasn’t helped things, and she really needed to know she was still desirable to men, in that way. Peter seemed perfect for that!

“Skip the foreplay, Peter. I want you inside me, and I want you there now!” she said, spreading her legs practically into the kind of split Peter had watched her do when she was a high school cheerleader. Oh, he had fantasies galore about her splits when she would cheerlead!

Peter was grinning from ear to ear as he climbed on top of her, his rock-hard cock between her luscious, voluptuous legs, with the nipples on her breasts rock hard, and little groans of anticipation emanating from her perfect rosebud mouth. He was having some trouble, however, finding her entrance to paradise. He was poking around, but his cock was aimed too high, then too low, then off to the side.

Stephanie reached down and lovingly took Peter’s cock in her hand, in order to guide him in. She’d done that before with Sam, and some boys she had dated before Sam. With Peter, however, just touching her cock with her sweet, delicate, warm, feminine hand, her gentle, loving touch, was too much ,especially since she was Stephanie Bravac herself, doing it! Sadly, his cock exploded, emptying all the cum he had stored in his balls since his last masturbation, a few hours ago. He coated Stephanie’s tummy and her entire pubic region with his cum. He was so ashamed!

As Peter’s cock went soft, he knew he had blown the chance to fuck his dream girl Stephanie, and what’s worse, he risked her spreading it around that he suffered from premature ejaculation! Stephanie, however, was too kind a person to do something like that, and realizing Peter’s shame, she said sweetly, “Well, the first one is always too quick. You’ll recover soon, and then we can make passionate love, Peter. I want you.”

Peter thought to himself he didn’t deserve such a wonderful woman. She was totally out of his league, but just then he heard the scream of what just had to be a genuine banshee. Scared, Stephanie scooted out from under him and began to dress, not even worrying that her kitten was sprayed with what seemed like gallons of sticky, translucent cum. Peter got up and dressed himself, somewhat dejectedly, too.

People were running around after the scream, but I was in heaven. Julie’s orgasm had done the job, and I felt it all the way to my tingling cedar shingles, and right down to the sump pump in the basement. Julie is clearly a soprano, but with a scream like that one, maybe she is, in actuality, a coloratura soprano?

Without realizing it, I sighed, and it was as if a cold wind rushed through my rooms. The effects of the scream, all the running feet, and then my gigantic sigh of satisfaction, were misinterpreted as the Old Snickers Poltergeist, which everyone knew about, but nobody really believed was real. Until now. I knew, though, that it was just Julie screaming, and me, the old mansion, sighing in acute, orgasmic pleasure.

Then Julie screamed again. Her screams of orgasmic pleasure were without equal. They were blood curdling, and indistinguishable from a woman’s scream of abject terror. Wait, this one might actually be of terror; I wasn’t feeling it in my cedar shingles! Now there were true screams of terror from some of the female guests. Nothing scares people like the unknown.

Unless, of course, there was a reason for the fear? I used all my mirrors to survey the situation, not that one can really see a poltergeist; they’re ghosts, aren’t they. I focused on the room that Julie had chosen. That was the room that John Jacob’s wife Annelies had perished in. The ghost of John Jacob never entered that room. Ever. Yet, he was there.

I suddenly knew who Julie reminded me of. The girl was a near exact copy of Annelies van Dryden, John Jacob Snicker’s unlucky (and thoroughly dead) wife. She even had the same birthmark on her thigh, almost touching her pussy, that Annelies had also had. John Jacob had found “his wife” at last, and not only had he become visible to Julie, he had somehow temporarily (I assume) re-incarnated himself as a living, red blooded male, with a huge erection, which currently was buried inside Julie, pumping away!

Roger was passed out of the floor near the bed, as the ghost John Jacob Snickers assumed living, breathing, warm blooded human form, and lay on top of Julie, who was shrieking in what I would consider to be justified terror.

As the ghost of the old mansion, John Jacob, fucked Julie, however, convinced she was a reincarnation of his long-lost wife, Julie’s terror gradually morphed into arousal, and then extreme arousal. After all, John Jacob has not only a quite long penis, but also a thick one. Clearly, Julie had never had such a huge thing inside her. I could envision her masturbating with magnum wine bottles in the future. Julie had stopped screaming. She was looking at John Jacob’s face, mesmerized by it, while his human form fucked the bejesus out of her.

I was learning. Human forms of ghosts can, it seems, fuck a girl for as long as they want. I couldn’t see John Jacob’s face, myself, due to unfortunate mirror placement, but I heard later from Peter that Julie saw his very soul in his face, the longing, the sorrow, and the devastation he had felt with the loss of his wife, his true love, his reason for being. Julie watched, as John Jacob recovered his love, as Julie became, at least in what was left of his mind, Annelies van Dryden herself. Even their birthmarks matched.