The Basement

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*

“I promise you,” Sadie bragged. “My house is haunted.”

The girls may have giggled at this, but each of them waited nervously for her to go on.

“I mean, I’ve never seen it. But it lives in the basement.”

“What does?” Katie asked.

“The ghost. I hear it moaning some nights, and once when I was little and wanted to go investigate my dad freaked out. He told me it was dangerous, that no one was allowed down there.”

Vicky scoffed. This was the best thing to come out of a shit sleep over, and she couldn’t believe the other girls’ gullibility. Sadie was known to be a drama queen, what with being the oldest in their year and an only child, and it was no wonder she would try and pull a stunt on her 18th birthday.

“Something to say, Vick?” Sadie asked. They weren’t the best of friends; Vicky had only come to the sleep over because Katie had begged her to.

“Ghosts are bullshit,” Vicky tried to laugh it off.

“No my brother saw a ghost at the old factory,” Nora offered, and suddenly all the other girls were chiming in with stories of their own.

“Well,” Sadie smirked, once they’d all settled down. “If Vick over here is so brave, why doesn’t she spend the night down there?”

Vicky frowned. “I thought your dad didn’t let anyone in?”

Sadie shrugged. “He’s out tonight, won’t be back until later. Why, are you scared of him?”

Vicky tried not to bite. Sadie’s dad was something of a hot rumour around the school. If Vicky was five-foot four then he was five-ten. He had broad shoulders and a body that fit the dad stereotype perfectly; not fat, not jockish, just big and firm.

Vicky personally hadn’t understood the hype; the only thing she’d found attractive was his hair which was a short, jet-black bunch of curls.

It was no wonder he wasn’t home now. The other school rumour was that he was a drunk who spent most of his nights in bars and pubs. Since Sadie’s mum had passed she’d basically lived on her own.

“Well, are you chicken?” Sadie grinned.

Vicky wasn’t prepared to seem weak in front of the alpha girl. She grabbed her pillow and stood up. “Show me where to go.”

The other girls muttered between themselves as Sadie led her from the room and down to the back of the house, where an old wooden door barred them from the depths of the property.

“See you in the morning, maybe,” Sadie taunted before dropping Vicky’s blanket and sauntering away. “Don’t forget to turn off the kitchen light before you go down, or dad will know somethings up.”

Once Sadie had left Vicky took a deep breath, more scared of being proved wrong than of any supernatural spirit. She turned the door’s handle and it creaked open to reveal an old wooden staircase which lead into darkness below.

Vicky gingerly stepped down, utilising what sparse light radiated from the kitchen to see, and fumbled for the hand rail which was so rough she thought it might leave splinters in her palms.

She shut the door behind her and walked slowly down into the basement, completely blind to her surroundings.

The concrete was cold on her feet when she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she walked awkwardly in the darkness, fumbling around. She nearly yelped when she eventually bumped into something.

She felt with her hands, realising she was near some kind of leather couch.

Relieved to not have to make camp on the hard floor, Vicky wrapped herself in her blanket and curled up onto the sofa.

As she closed her eyes to go to sleep she refused to let the eerie rattling of the basement windows disturb her. She was determined to make it to the morning as fresh as a fiddle, just to prove Sadie wrong. Maybe her dad was worried that the basement was in a poor condition that could have been dangerous for a child, but there was no way it was haunted.

*

A noise stirred Vicky from her sleep, and for a moment when she woke she couldn’t remember where she was. However, when it dawned on her that she was still in Sadie’s basement she held her breath, trying to listen to what had gone bump in the night.

It happened again and Vicky realised she was hearing the repetitive noise of someone’s shallowing breathing.

Whatever or whoever it was, they were crouched near her.

Convinced she was still dreaming, Vicky refused to move. She was determined to drift into a blank mind again as she willed her imagination to stop playing tricks on her.

But moments later she felt a tug on the blanket, and then a chill on her legs.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she hoped it couldn’t be heard.

Fingers gently drew a line up her shins.

“So smooth,” a man’s voice purred as he felt the legs she’d shaven just the previous afternoon.

Vicky tried not to gasp as his fingers continued to trail up her body, now drawing circles on her thigh.

Vicky dared to peek. The room was so dark she could hardly see only a dim outline from the moonlight seeping through the narrow windows. An outline of a figure hunched by her on the sofa.

The hand pushed itself between her thighs and Vicky realised how warm it was. She was sure a ghost couldn’t radiate such heat.

His index finger rubbed against her crotch and Vicky felt her body flinch with sensitivity.

She’d only let her boyfriend touch her there a few times, and he frankly had no clue what he was doing.

He pushed against one of her thighs in a motion to part her legs, and Vicky had to comply.

She was worried resistance would alert him of her consciousness.

She also wasn’t sure she was ready for him to stop.

The hand began to rub her inner thigh. He caressed her pj bottoms, his fingers never quite making contact with her pussy, but instead they teased her for what felt like minutes.

All of a sudden his hand slipped under her shorts and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. She felt his warm fingers smear the wetness around her lips and her mind fuzzed with anticipation.

“You shouldn’t have come to my basement,” the man growled.

Vicky didn’t know whether she should reply or whether he still thought she was asleep. She opted to stay quiet and instead bit her lip as he continued to massage her pussy.

For a moment the only sound was the sloppy motion of fingers driving her mind into a frenzy.

Then there was a slapping sound, and Vicky flinched as his palm connected with her crotch.

The man then pulled away and Vicky had to stop herself from whimpering.

“Do. Not. Move.” He ordered, his voice a deep whisper tinged with the scent of whisky.

Frightened and wet Vicky obeyed. She could hear him shuffle ominously nearby, and when she dared to look again she could see arms in the air in the familiar motion of taking a t shirt off.

He returned seconds later and tugged the blanket from her.

“Strip,” he ordered.

Vicky did not hesitate. She pulled off her top first, and then her shorts. All the while she felt sick but excited, her body confused by what it wanted. The basement was cold and her nipples pricked, but she lay back on the sofa, ready for the warmth of his hand to caress her again.

He returned to rubbing her crotch and this time Vicky let herself go. He moaned softly each time his fingers rotated against her lips, her hips beginning to rock with the motion of his hand.

Finally he pushed two thick fingers against her, and Vicky felt them slide as deep as possible into her hole. She groaned as he began to move them feverishly against the inside walls of her vagina.

His thumb slipped across the centre of her pussy’s folds and found its way to a spot that made her mind explode.

“Yes!” She sighed as his thumb rotated and his fingers pumped in and out.

“Ssh,” he warned.

But Vicky did not take heed. The sensation of being touched by a stranger she couldn’t even see was sending her wild. The sound of his fingers sloppily fucking her hole only made her hotter, and she wanted to let him know.

She moaned with each thrust, hoping he would never stop.

“You were warned,” he growled as he pulled his fingers from inside.

She wanted to scream at herself for ruining this eerie experience when she felt his warm, wet fingers against her mouth. They seemed to beckon for entry, and so she parted her lips and allowed them to smear her own juice across her tongue.

His other hand pushed some fabric into her mouth and Vicky almost gagged as he pushed against her throat.

A button rubbed against her tongue, and whatever the rag was it was already wet, the taste salty.

She reached out to feel him as he moved away and her hand connected with what felt like a hairy chest. She pawed desperately against his skin but the man had no interest in her touch. He soon swiped her arm away before disappearing into the darkness again.

That was when she felt his breath between her legs.

She braced herself for what was to come. Her wildest fantasy was to have a man taste her, to feel him between her thighs.

And when the stranger’s tongue flicked across her slit she nearly blacked out.

She wanted to cry out in pleasure but the gag muted her voice into nothing but a frenzied wail.

He continued to lick her, stopping only to slurp noisily on her lips as his whole mouth enveloped her pussy.

She thrust her hips into the air and he slid his arms beneath her in return. His hands grasped her ass and spread her cheeks and she could feel him rubbing the stubble on his chin against her.

“Fuck!” She tried to scream.

He slapped her crotch again and then slid his fingers in. She felt him thrust feverishly in and out of her whilst he continued to lick and suck.

Vicky realised she’d never felt so wet before. Her crotch felt like a sloppy mess that the stranger couldn’t seem to get enough of. She could feel a mix of juice and spit dribble down her taint and she gasped at the thought of the mess she’d have left on the sofa.

His fingers continued to rub against a spot deep inside her whilst his tongue rapidly circled what she knew must be her clit, and Vicky couldn’t not take it any longer. She moaned loudly into the rag as her body shook, possessed by waves of pleasure that made her skin feel warm.

He never ceased as she twisted on the sofa. He simply held her in place, his moans filling the basement as he ate her pussy with more skill than any other man could surely possess.

The rush slowly subsided and he began to slow. Vicky panted, drool running down her chin.

She wished she could speak. If she could, she’d have begged the stranger to fuck her.

When he pulled away she whimpered and reached out for him. He was moving towards her head and she looked up at his silhouette, hoping he could see the desperation in her eyes.

Her pussy pulsed in the chill of the basement, barely satisfied by his selfless pleasure.

As she reached for him she felt something hard hanging over her. She grabbed at the thick, warm shaft and realised she had his cock in her grasp.

Her mind raced at the opportunity to show him what she wanted.

But he had other ideas and pushed her hand away.

“You shouldn’t be in my basement,” he grunted, and Vicky could hear the rapid slap of skin on skin.

The gag was wrenched from her mouth.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispered, and she was sure she heard him chuckle in return.

“Silly girl,” he said as he grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back. “If you ever come here again you’ll see what the Ghost is really capable of.” She heard him spit and felt it hit her cheek and her body quivered from the degradation.

She was ready to reply when she felt something else warm against her chin. It felt wet and slimy and Vicky realised instantly what it was.

She opened her mouth willingly and was just in time for another rope of cum to splatter against her tongue. The saltiness felt like a reward for being well behaved, and she whimpered happily when several more sprays splattered her face.

She heard the Ghost groan in relief, his grip loosening slightly on her hair.

He rubbed his heavy cock against her face and spread the cum around. He then pressed it against her lips and she felt it slide into her willing mouth. It was covered in cum, and she sucked eagerly.

“Eat it all up,” he said with a pat to her head.

And then he pulled his cock from her mouth and disappeared into the dark.

Vicky lay on the sofa, exhausted. Her mind raced with the events of the evening and her eyelids grew suddenly heavy.

As she dozed off a trail of cum dropped down her cheek and onto the leather of the sofa.

*

“We heard it,” Mona said wide eyed.

“What?” Vicky asked, feigning ignorance. She was shattered, her pussy still tender from the Ghost’s attention.

“The ghost. It sounded insane. It moaned for so long, did you not hear it?”

Vicky shrugged and continued to slurp her cereal.

“Have you been telling ghost stories again?” A deep voice asked, and Vicky saw Sadie’s dad saunter into the kitchen.

“I was just warning the girls,” Sadie blushes. She shot Vicky a warning glare, as if to remind her not to reveal where she’d slept.

He chuckled. “You’re all safe. Just don’t go down into my basement.” He warned, his gaze lingering on Vicky.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ezkjp5/the_basement