Fevered Dreams

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The silver van meandered through the sweeping bends of an oldgravel road. Shadows swept and danced through the trees’ towering trunks in the dim early morning haze. The passing headlights disturbed the undergrowth; the creatures and leaves stirring under its gaze and scattering back to the shadow. Tyres crunched over stones, the engine gusting along at a whisper as its driver held his breath and peered through the gloom. The radio crackled with a quiet white noise; its signal long since lost and forgotten. The clock flashed “07:05AM” at the driver. Both hands held the wheel tight while he stared rigidly ahead. “Fuckin’ winter, why does it have to be so dark… And where is this fucking place?” Narrow eyes squinted through every bend, he wished and prayed for a sign of life in the eternal wilderness that encircled him. The man cursed and the vehicle swerved, stones kicking up against the underside of the van, as a critter scurried across the road in front of him. His grip on the wheel turned his knuckles deathly white. “One more mile and that’s it, I’m turning back. Fucking don’t need this.” The words no sooner left his lips than a large wrought-iron gate towered before him. Two tall, ancient pillars flanked the gate, capped with gargoyles, their walls disappearing into the misty gloom in either direction. Disappointed to have arrived, the man slowed at the approach, staring into the lifeless stone eyes that surveyed him. The gates groaned and shrieked, opening ahead of him slowly. “Fuck. I hope there’s a motor doing that.” A nervous glance around him sadly gave the man no reason to leave. Against his better judgement the van crawled through the opening and continued through the tunnel of trees. A distant glimmer emerged through the woodland, finally giving him a focal point; a destination. Meandering his way towards it, the driver watched the dim light grow. The final bend in the road opened into a large courtyard and the house rose above him in the dark. The driveway swept past the ornate front portico, holding more gargoyles, statues and intricate, slightly faded, sculptings. The road circled a large stone fountain, topped with a figure from mythology holding a dramatic pose. The van pulled into the side, the only vehicle present, and the engine died. Its driver sat staring up at the three-storey mansion presiding over him, its tall, arched windows and pitches capped with elegant buttresses and battlements. The mouths of the gargoyles seemed to scream at him. “What in God’s name am I doing here? If even He knows about this place.” Only two upstairs windows faintly shone through the darkness, before the windows that bordered the main door flickered with light. He stared ahead and waited, watching as the large timber door creaked gently open, bathing the stone, moss-stained steps in an unearthly glow. A figure ghosted into the light, casting its silhouette in shadow, waiting under the stone porch. The man swallowed – nay, gulped – and opened the van’s door. A warning buzzer pinged, stealing his breath and a beat of his frantic heart, before he shut off the headlights. Stepping out, the gravel grinding beneath his boots, the closing of the door seemed to echo from the walls and trees. A bird’s ominous caw from the woods had his head pivoting as he slowly and unwillingly made his way towards the silhouetted figure. Glancing back, he pressed the alarm fob on his keys; more out of habit than true necessity. The van’s lights flashed in a silent cry for help, alone in the dark. Feeling sympathetic, he turned and placed his first step on the stone stairs. Climbing the steps, he squinted ahead. The light snuffed out as a giant man stepped into the door frame, behind the first figure. His massive shoulders and shaggy hair blocked all light and all sign of the other, until the driver reached the door. There, ahead of him, stood a slender woman, backed by a huge beast of a man. He blinked as he saw the pale woman’s thin, almost gaunt, expression half smiling in his direction. The two looked over each other’s contrasting features. Her long, straight, jet black hair against his short, wavy brown locks; her thin and delicate frame, compared to his broad shoulders and brawny build. He couldn’t place an age on her. Her skin was soft and youthful, but the corners of her eyes held an experience and an age he did not expect. She held herself purposefully and confidently, like a woman beyond her years. At last he noticed the hand she silently held towards him. The fingers were long, stick-thin and as white as bone. Taking her hand gently in his, he almost expected it to feel cold, but found it pleasantly warm to the touch. “Good morning, Mr Sykes. Thank you for being so early.” The woman spoke crisply and eloquently. Every word seemed halfway between sung and whispered, prickling the skin down the back of Sykes’ neck. “N-not at all. Always best to be early, I say.” The woman’s lips curled in half a smile and Sykes could just make out the purple lipstick set against her pallid skin. “Not necessarily, Mr. Sykes. I find that I like my men to be come when they’re asked, not necessarily early.” She smiled, her tongue gliding between her lips for a fraction of a second. “Timing is everything, you know. Punctuality is a virtue.” He frowned, deciphering avcılar escort bayan her words. She smiled, her white teeth gleaming behind the dark lips, and stepped to one side as the large man behind her stepped away, too. “Please, Mr. Sykes, do come in. We don’t want you standing on the porch until sunrise.” The dark wooden walls echoed with the thud of Sykes’ heavy work boots clomping on the marble floor. The walls seemed to stretch upwards forever, to a huge vaulted ceiling, once emblazoned with intricately painted designs which were now faded and cracked. He stepped into the room and followed the narrow blood-red carpet that snaked its way up the winding wooden staircase. The walls were lined in portraits and ancient paintings; all of the eyes staring back at him either threateningly or suspiciously. The door boomed back into the frame behind him. Sykes jumped, turning on the spot to find the giant man blocking his exit, his back to the heavy door. Sykes felt uncomfortable under the man’s sunken eyes, hooded beneath the bushes of his overgrown eyebrows and his heavy brow. “Oh, don’t mind Hector,” the woman called, putting one muffled footstep on the carpeted stair. “He helps to …” She paused here, her hand resting on the balustrade, to give Sykes a smile. “… Take care of my needs, around here.” Sykes managed to tear his eyes away from the giant man and look over to the slender woman, appreciating her in the light at last. She stroked her palm along the balustrade slowly, looking between the two of them. A flash of teeth showed behind her tight lips, sharp and pristine. Her eyes peered at him from the depths of her dark eye shadow, but their brightness shone through. The black of her dress stood in stark contrast to her alabaster skin, with a flash of red highlighting the plunging neckline, and the barely contained cleavage that heaved within. The dress’ skirt split elegantly over the slender shape of her pale thigh. “If you’d like to follow me, Mr Sykes,” the woman turned and began to climb the stairs, the material pulled tight with every step, around the enticing curve of her body. “I’ll show you what needs to be done and you can get started when you’re ready.” *** The door unsteadily opened, groaning with the effort, to a room filled with flickering monitors. A dozen screens relayed CCTV cameras back to the station. As the woman stepped in ahead of Sykes, the pale glow seemed to turn her skin, unable to be any paler, almost translucent. ‘Finally, something like modern technology,’ he thought to himself. “This is the main monitoring room.” She turned and half smiled. “Not that Hector and I have much need of it, of course. It’s a remnant from the house’s old guesthouse days, but we maintain it anyway. This room does hold all the electrical connections, though.” ‘Guesthouse?! Who on this Earth would want to stay all the way out here, in this place…!’ She pulled open a large wall cupboard filled with circuit breakers and junction boxes. Sykes was distracted by the blinking screens showing him various corners of the house – including one dedicated to the large gate he entered by. “A strange guesthouse that places a camera overlooking a shower, isn’t it?” The two looked at each other for a second before Sykes gestured to a monitor pointed squarely at a large shower-bath combination. “I wasn’t involved with the guesthouse, I’m afraid I can’t comment.” The woman smiled and snapped the cupboard to with a click, pressing on regardless. “Now this is the main hub, so any problems might be traceable to this room.” She smiled at Sykes, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes. “But I don’t need to tell you this, do I? You’re the handyman after all.” “Thank you, Mrs…” Sykes waited, unsure whether the woman whose stoic gaze refused to budge from his would even answer. “My apologies. How rude of me.” She extended her skeletal hand once more with half a smile. “Ms. DuPont. Ophelia DuPont.” “It’s a pleasure, Ms. DuPont.” Sykes gently took her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. The woman giggled a little and looked straight into his eyes. “it’s not quite that just yet, Mr. Sykes. Have a little patience.” She stepped away, her fingers trailing through his until the last second. She stopped in the doorway to look at Sykes once more, her tongue just tickling along her bottom lip. “Oh, I almost forgot, Mr. Sykes.” Sykes’ raised eyebrows bid her to continue. “We’ve prepared a room for you, it’s the first door at the top of the stairs. You can’t miss it. It’s yours for as long as you require. Enjoy your stay, Mr Sykes.” Ms. DuPont glided out of the open door, her skirts billowing behind her as she went, without waiting for a reply. ‘A room?’ Sykes thought to himself. ‘How long is this gonna take?’ He turned, again opening the maintenance cupboard. A bewildering array of tangled, knotted wires criss-crossed to and fro, frayed and even broken in a couple of places. He puffed out his cheeks, trying and failing to trace the route of just one cable. ‘Maybe I’ll need that room after all. I’m certainly going to need my toolbag.’ Walking back through the now silent house, the walls seemed even closer. The air felt denser around him, as though his ears would pop. The portraits’ eyes definitely looked to be following his beylikdüzü escort bayan every step, drawn to the rhythmic thud of his heavy boots. The air was filled with strange odours he couldn’t place, but he felt a fool to walk around sniffing the air like a bloodhound. He stepped at the top of the stairs, glancing over the expansive hall. He stopped, but the footsteps continued, fading slowly to nothing. ‘They’re my footsteps. Just an echo. Just an echo.’ Sykes took the stairs two at a time just to be safe, barging out of the front door and pacing towards the sanctuary of his van. The lights flashed again, welcoming him back, as he jumped inside and took a deep breath, gripping the wheel. ‘Jesus, Brian, get a grip of yourself. What’s gotten into you? It’s just an old house!’ He looked up at the old and grimy windows, watching the ominous tendrils of the trees’ shadows claw at the architecture. A light blinked into existence on the upper floor. ‘It’s just an old house, inhabited by two unusual people. Get the gear, get the job done, get out.’ Steeling himself, he once again jumped out onto the gravel and gathered his tools from the back of the van, snatching up his food box and closing all the doors. With one long, last look at the safety of his motor he locked the doors with that familiar, comforting flash of light. *** Sykes placed his heavy bag on the monitors’ desk, clunking onto the wooden surface. He dropped into the chair nearby and pulled himself close, rummaging through his pouch, when he glanced up at the screens. Black and white pictures of empty rooms flickered back at him, buzzing in the quiet air. Movement on one screen caught his eye. He glanced over, without thinking, as someone walked in front of the camera. Sykes pulled the chair closer. The camera was fixed in the corner of a guest bedroom, the old-fashioned sheets crisply pulled over the four-poster bed and the room densely decorated with various ornaments. Hector stepped into shot, turning towards the open door as he reached the bed. Ms DuPont followed him, slowly closing the door behind her as they looked at each other across the bed. She seemed to strut towards him, the low quality camera still showing the sway of her hips. The image flickered and failed, catching up as Ms DuPont stood inches away from Hector, her palm flat on his humongous chest. Sykes brow furrowed, eyes straining at the screen. ‘What’s she doing?’ he wondered. ‘Is she… Stroking his chest?’ He watched, entranced, as Ms DuPont unfastened his huge shirt, her rake-like fingers crawling over his chest. They never looked away from each other as she shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. Sykes could hardly believe the size of the man, covered in a rough hair, almost like fur, which she dragged her fingers through. Hector’s spade hands reached out, grabbing Ms. DuPont’s shoulders almost possessively. He pulled her closer but seemed to stop halfway. Frowning at the pixelated image, Sykes could swear he saw Ophelia rapping the large man on the nose, almost chastising him. ‘What the fuck is going on…’ Sykes forgot his job; instead he stared at the grainy image of the most unusual couple. Ms DuPont laid her head on the giant’s chest, her hands running over his body as she was held tight in the man’s huge arms. She stepped back and the two looked each other in the eye as Ms DuPont reached behind for the zip of her dress. Sykes glanced around the monitors for a better angle, but the room had only one camera. Teasingly, he saw the back of her dress slowly open, the shoulder straps slipping down her arms. He could see only the slender shape of her back and shoulders as the dress was pulled slowly down her body. Hector lurched a step forward as his mistress slowly revealed herself to him. She raised one hand and the huge man stopped in his tracks, still staring fixedly ahead. The dress bunched around her waist and Ms DuPont allowed it to hang, her hands coming up towards her chest. Sykes’ cock was throbbing. He found his hand pawing ungraciously at his bulge already, rubbing hard beneath the old desk. His imagination was running wild with the image of his host’s hands clawing at her impressive breasts. His hand wrapped tight around the outline of his shaft, squeezing and feverishly rubbing as he wished he could see through Hector’s eyes. Ms DuPont’s head threw back as her chest pushed forward, her thin lips open in an ‘o’, as Sykes squeezed his manhood tight enough to lose his breath. ‘She must’ve pinched her nipples. God I wish I could see them, I bet they’re perfect, pink little…’ His thought trailed off as Hector suddenly bounded forward. Ophelia looked back in time to see him envelop her in his arms, his huge head dipping towards her chest. Ophelia’s head rolled back once more, arms dropping to her sides. This time, Sykes heard her cry of pleasure down the hall. The sound went straight to his throbbing manhood, demanding his attention. His hands scrambled with his belt as her grainy image collapsed backwards into the giant’s arms, her occasional whimpers and mewls carrying down the hallway. Her long hair cascaded down her back with her lover’s giant hand wrapped around it tightly. Sykes had his length held firmly in his palm, rocking his hips into his tight fist. Her hands esenyurt escort reached for Hector’s chest. He let go at once, as though stung, stepping back while his mistress straightened up. She looked at him, her hips vibrating with a small, lithe movement. The dress around her waist slipped and pooled to the floor at her feet, revealing a small band of black material for her knickers. She stood bare before him for a minute, her hands gliding over her smooth skin. Sykes now frantically pumped his needy cock, wishing it were his own hands clawing across her waiting body. He watched her touch herself and writhe erotically, wishing he could feel, smell, touch and taste the beautiful woman down the hall. One small step took Ms DuPont to within inches of Hector’s solid chest. Her slender neck tipped back to look the beast in the eye before she dropped elegantly to her knees at his feet. Her hands were on his hips, pulling at the thick belt holding up his trousers. Sykes’ hand slowed, watching intently as the woman steadily unclipped his belt, pulled it free and dropped it to the floor. Hector’s hand wrapped in her hair and tipped Ophelia’s head to the side. Sykes had the perfect view as she tore down his trousers. The material pulled tight around the giant’s bulge, before sliding over his solid cock and springing it free. Sykes watched as the man’s impressive shaft bounced from its confines to smack across the woman’s face, resting there against her cheek. Hector held her in place as the two made eye contact, his cock draped over her beautiful face. Sykes’ palm swatted hard across the underside of his shaft, imagining his own length lying across her soft lips. Ophelia’s head turned a little, her lips were searching for the swollen head. Holding her in place, Hector seemed to tease her, grinding his shaft against her lips as she squirmed to take him. He tugged roughly on her hair, her head pulled right back, and the giant man shuffled forward. Looking down at the helpless woman, he lowered his heavy sack into her open, waiting mouth. Hector’s body tensed at once, his head falling backwards, and Sykes knew Ophelia had him where she wanted him. Sykes cupped his own balls in his free hand, imagining them resting in Ophelia’s thin, beautiful lips; imagining her tongue dancing across them. He watched Hector’s hand wrap around his length as the two men both stroked themselves to the image of Ms DuPont’s slender form pinned beneath her strong lover. Her slim fingers encircled his shaft, stroking the hard length for a few seconds before she pulled free of his balls, guiding the giant cockhead to her lips and plunging her mouth around it at once. Hector’s howl echoed from the walls as he snatched up her long hair and began to thrust deep into her throat. Sykes could hardly believe the slender woman could take it. He watched the brute hold her there and fuck Ophelia’s elegant, beautiful face like a cheap whore’s cunt. He could only imagine the spluttering, desperate, gasping sounds she made as that hard rod pounded in and out of her throat. Hector stopped and the woman dropped to her knees again, her chest heaving for breath. A pang of worry crossed his mind for a second. ‘Is she okay? God, I hope I haven’t just watched…’ She interrupted his thought once more, bounding to her feet, then shoving Hector’s huge frame onto the bed. He collapsed on the edge, looking at the tiny woman that prowled towards him. Her ass swayed perfectly in front of Sykes with every swaggered step. The handyman’s palm was slick with pre-cum and the room full of his moans, but he didn’t care. Sykes just watched the gorgeous woman perform; staring at the round ass she jiggled before him. She reached Hector and bent delicately at the waist. Her fingers noosed around his manhood, feeding it into her open mouth. Sykes watched as Hector collapsed onto his back; Ms DuPont reached back and hooked her fingertips in the waistband of her knickers. Sykes groaned and fucked his clenched fist hard as she pulled those panties down past her ass to drop to the floor, her slender fingers reaching between her spread thighs. Her head bobbed on him faster and faster, taking his thick length deeper and faster. Ophelia’s fingers strummed through the assumedly soaking lips of her pussy, tickling her sensitive skin. Sykes swore and cursed aloud the ancient CCTV system, wishing he could better see the undoubtedly perfect, pink, swollen pussy dripping with her juices. His body shivered with the need to enter her.  ‘She must know,’ he thought. ‘She just showed me these cameras. She must know. She knows I’m watching. Doesn’t she?’ The pale woman stood at last, lifting her knees to climb onto the bed and straddle Hector’s prone body. She shuffled forward, leaning against his chest while she ground her hips back and forth, obviously sliding her soaking sex along Hector’s dick. Sykes’ hand tried to mimic the movement, until he saw her hips lift, one bony hand lightly holding the impressive cock. Sykes almost willed her on, desperate to see more, as the woman placed the swollen tip of her lover’s meat against the wetness of her cunt and wriggled her hips. ‘Go on. Do it. Take that cock. Please.’ With his manhood throbbing in his hand, he felt as though he would explode. He needed to see her take it. His groans filled the room as he held back his climax, determined to enjoy the show. Ophelia’s hips rocked one last time, before she turned right around on the spot. Sykes gasped to finally see the perfect, perky shape of her firm breasts on her slender, athletic figure.

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