Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 49826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Like, why do I walk like my grandfather and have some of his other mannerisms, and why hasn’t she said anything if I was indeed coming into her room in the middle of the night for sex? It stands to reason that she’d have said something or cried out loud enough to wake me up out of my sleep.
There’s one sure thing that cannot be explained away easily, and that’s the fact that I awaken with the scent of pussy on my finger and the taste of sex in my mouth, not to mention there’s always someone’s dried cunt juice all over my cock. And while all of this is going on, whatever it may be, she’s dead asleep just next door. No, I’m not buying it.
My mind had been so preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed the time slipping by not until the shadows started to fall in my path. It was then I looked up at the house and saw the soft yellow glow coming from the attic. I remembered seeing it once before and not having much interest. But tonight, I found my feet leading me there.
I’d gone into the house and bounded up the stairs as if knowing what I’d find, coming to a standstill in the doorway. Something odd happened as soon as I stepped into the room. I couldn’t recall whether I was asleep or awake. My eyes fell on the violin, and I knew it was a dream when I lifted it to my shoulder and began to play after handling the instrument reverently.
It had been years since I’d touched one, years since I’d had the urge to play, and the song that came to mind, I don’t think I’d ever heard it before. It was sultry, slow, and sweet. Grandpa might know it; it sounds like something he might’ve played back in the day when he, too, was an aspiring violinist.
There were many pictures of him with this very instrument, though it had been years since he’d played by the time I came along. But I’d heard the stories. I never understood why if he’d loved to play as much as he said, he’d stopped, and he never explained. I just remember the sad look of heartbreak that would cross his face whenever the subject was brought up.
Now here it was years later, just sitting here in a room full of dust and boxes with one lone window where the dull light from the hanging bare bulb shone through. I was sure it was a dream when my body became lighter, and the thoughts in my head had quietened.
I settled into the dream, letting myself enjoy the music as the bow moved across the strings with ease as if I’d been practicing. I started to get lost in the strains of the haunting music until I sensed something heavy in the air. My limbs started to tense in anticipation, and my cock throbbed and elongated down my thigh. I felt her before I saw her, smelt her even, and my eyes opened as she entered the doorway.
I don’t know how long we stood there staring at each other, how long before she crossed the room to me in a trance-like state. I dropped the violin softly to the old wooden floor, and my arms came around her, drawing her in. The soft silk of the nineteen-twenties diaphanous gown brushed against the warmth of my skin and heated it further.
There were no words spoken; we spoke with our eyes. She looked up at me without fighting when my hand snuck under the gown and found her naked ass. She didn’t resist when I drew her in closer, and I was certain she felt the length and heat of my cock through the thin fabric of her gown.
She straddled my cock as I held her there against me, ravaging her mouth with my tongue as she made soft, heated sounds of want and need. She was like an itch under my skin that I couldn’t reach, a fever burning me up from the inside out. I tore the back of the gown and dragged it down her shoulders until it fell in shreds around her feet, then laid her back across some old dust-covered boxes that had been left there.
“Hold on.” I knelt before her, raising one of her legs and placing it on my thigh, opening her pussy up for my tongue. Her arms were at an odd angle behind her as she tried to hold onto the boxes to keep herself from falling. I didn’t care; I was there to catch her if she fell. Her skin felt warm beneath my touch as I ran my palms and fingers along her inner thighs while inhaling the scent of her sweet cunt.
I reached out my tongue and licked her from the bottom of her slit to her clit, flicking my tongue back and forth until she let go of the boxes and grabbed my hair. I took my mouth away and ordered her to put her hands back where I’d left them, and she obliged. Her eyes were fever bright with lust, and something tugged at me but was gone too soon for me to catch it.