The Haunted House

//trying to get better at writing. This is my attempt at expanding that//

Frankie approached the old house, rust covering each corner. The door was unlocked and cracked open. As if it was welcoming him. Beckoning him. He had lived here for years with his mother and twin sister Ella. They knew it was haunted, but the spirits that danced through the hallways and crept into their room at night were friendly. Quiet. Curiously watching. Always waiting. Magnetic. Dark. Velvet. Pulling.

He walked through the foyer, the cobweb-covered chandelier flickering to life. The closest living thing in this damn house of ash. Moving up the old spiral deathtrap known as a staircase, Frankie floated down the corridors. Neverending, seemingly. Doors that looked identical, most leading to nothing. Empty, much like Frankie himself.

The old frames on the edge of rusty nails seemed to tilt toward him as he passed. Shadows elongated, reaching out for him. Wanting to grab him. Not malicious, but something more.

Frankie entered the last room. He was never allowed in this room when his family lived there. He was never sure why. His mother would lock herself inside for hours. Sometimes days. She always came out in a thin layer of sweat with pink cheeks. It was the greatest mystery.

He opened the door expecting to reveal some big spooky monster. But all he saw was a covered mirror and a baby grand piano. Frankie chuckled under his breath at the subversion of expectation and approached the piano.

He hit a key as it groaned. Another key echoed through the empty room following the first. He sat at the dusty bench and began to play. A song he learned years ago but never learned the words.

Frankie closed his eyes and got enraptured by the music. The melody warmed his entire body. He thought about his ex-girlfriend. The first and last. He imagined her singing. Her hair, eyes. Then his thoughts went further.

He thought of her dipping breasts. Her flat stomach. Long thick legs parting slightly in invitation. He could practically taste her against his mouth. Hear her begging for him. "There you go Frankie...." he imagined her unbuttoning his pants at the piano.

Then, he came to reality. He stopped playing the piano and looked down to discover his pants undone and tugged to his knees. His boxers were next. Something or someone was manipulating his clothing. But he couldn't see. He could just feel as his thick member was exposed to the air. It was cold at first but quickly warmed. Something tight wrapped around him. Something wet. But he couldn't see.

"What the hell?" He began to panic, unable to move much from the bench. Fear bubbled up in his chest but also... arousal. Something teased his back entrance before he felt it slowly spread open. An involuntary moan escaped. Feeling hot air enters his tight hole. Pushing in deep.

The sheet covering the mirror had fallen away now. In his reflection, Frankie saw himself sitting on the bench. His hands gripping the sides of it. Slightly leaning back, mouth agape. Between his legs, kneeling on the ground under the piano was a woman with dark hair. He could see her clearly as his erection disappeared into her mouth and came back out, slick and reflecting the dim light from a dusty old window.

His attention remained hyperlinked on the mirror as the ghostly apparition slid two fingers into his ass, spreading him slightly. Exploring until his hot spot was located. "Oh fuck...." Frankie groaned out. Sounding like the old piano with how he moaned. The warmth seemed to engulf his entire cock and even partially his hefty ballsack. He was about to apologize for not shaving but then remembered it wasn't a human he was speaking to.

He tried to reach out and grab, using the mirror as a reference for where her hair was. It didn't work. So he thrust upward into the 'air' instead. Looking like a madman perhaps to any third party. Humping the air wildly and moaning like a man possessed.

He needed to be released. Yearned for it. Begged the hauntings to release him. In more ways than one. His balls were tugged, the feeling around his cock tightened until it almost hurt, and the invisible fingers pistoned in and out of him.

"Oh my god..... oh my g-... god...."

He came hard into the air. Half expecting something unreal to swallow it down. But he sprayed the piano keys. Painted part of the floors. He glanced over at the mirror again but only saw a man with his cock in his hand. He was confused and cleaned himself up. Entirely ignoring the mess he made on the instrument.

Frankie left the haunted house they used to live at. He climbed into the driver's seat of the car and looked back at the house as if in disbelief. It made sense why his mother always went to that room. Before starting up the engine to leave, he saw a dark-haired woman standing in the upstairs window. Staring down at him with a satisfied smile.