The Haunted House

It was summer vacation, right after my 18th birthday. The warmest in recent years. My father had rented a house in the south of Luxembourg. A big house with turrets, made of black stones. It was a bit gloomy but it had a large garden. Inside it was old-fashioned, past glory, a little dilapidated. I (the only girl) did not dare to sleep alone in one of the large bedrooms so, to his annoyance, I slept in my brother's room. At the end of the hallway was my father's bedroom. Grandpa slept in the attic. The stairs to the attic were steep and creaked.

It was the vacation when I discovered that I am madly in love with men's dicks. I can't see them enough. I want to see them, touch them, take them in my mouth, see them get stiff and squirt. My favorite fantasy (the one that gives me hard nipples and a wet spot in my panties): I'm lying on the floor, on my back, breasts exposed, and four men put their still-flaccid dick on my face.

Many women look at a man's eyes first, I look at their fly first.

The bathroom of the house in Luxembourg was downstairs. On the bedroom floor there was only a toilet. The toilet had a normal width but was 14 feet deep. A kind of corridor with the toilet at the end. There was little light. The walls were brown and filled with cries like "Erik was here" and "hot" with a phone number underneath. And there was a hole at the level of the toilet, the size of a beer mat. Next to the toilet was an equally deep closet with cleaning supplies.

The third evening it was sweltering hot. We were still sitting in the garden late. I went to bed first. I put on, in the dark, a long white t-shirt and lay down under a sheet. I couldn't fall asleep. It was too hot.

After half an hour, my brother came in. He snuck over to his bed, not knowing I was still awake. For five minutes there was silence and then I heard him moving rhythmically. I couldn't see him but knew what he was doing. At first I thought, "let him be, he'll be ready in no time," then I found it quite a horny idea: that he was lying there with his stiff dick in his hand, horny, jerking off, a few feet away from me! I couldn't see it, but the images in my head left nothing to guess. In them I saw, in slow motion, his foreskin sliding over his glans.

I carefully, inserted my finger into my pussy and rubbed the moisture over my labia. I wanted to cum, too. As excited as I was by the sounds he was making - he had completely forgotten about me by now and his restless breathing was now easy to hear - I myself was terrified of being caught while masturbating, on the images of my brother. Of his dick to be exact. As a young girl, it's okay to fantasize about a dick, but not your father's or brother's.

I was going crazy. I had to leave. As I closed the bedroom door behind me, I just caught the surprised look in my brother's eyes. I entered the toilet, closed the door behind me and sat down. The toilet seat felt cold. I calmed down.

After a few minutes, I heard someone in the hallway. The door handle moved. I said softly, "occupied." Then I heard fumbling, next to the toilet, in the cleaning closet. And then exactly what I was already expecting happened. My brother carefully stuck his stiff dick through the hole. I knelt in front of the hole, grabbed his dick with my hand, closed my lips around his glans and sucked. I was going to blow him like he had never been blown before. I wanted to feel his full load of seed streaming down my face. That's how it was going to be.

But it didn't go that way. He pulled his dick out of my mouth, stumbled out of the closet and fled up the attic stairs. I was left confused. What on earth had happened? Curious, I left the toilet. I gently opened the door to our bedroom. Little had changed there. My brother was still playing with his dick. He hadn't left the room. He had, however, grabbed my panties off the floor and put them on his face.

Ghosts don't exist, and certainly not ghosts with a stiff dick. I snuck up the stairs to the attic. It was a large attic. In the distance, a strip of moonlight fell through a small attic window. In an alcove behind the big chimney was Grandpa's bed. He seemed to be asleep. I crept closer.

What I now saw confirmed my fearful suspicion: at the level of his hips stood a hefty one-pole tent. I got down on my knees and crawled to the foot of his bed. The attic was dusty. Crawling hurt my bare knees, my heart was pounding in my throat, my mouth was dry. What was I doing here?

But I could not go back, I had to touch the cane, I had to release the hard and at the same time velvety soft dick from its unbearable tension. My hand disappeared under the sheet. He lay with his legs wide but I could not reach it. This was the moment of truth: lust or shame? Or had the moment of truth been long gone?

I pulled the sheet up a little and crawled between his legs. Carefully I took his stiff dick in my hand. A shiver went through him but he didn't move otherwise. I began to jerk him off. What a wonderful feeling that was. Lust? Maybe. Power? Sure, but above all I felt an endless desire for a man's swollen dick, where all energy flows to, where all lust accumulates. The delicious-feeling, delicious-smelling, delicious-tasting center of a man seeking satisfaction. And that I could give it. All doubt was gone. I felt a warm glow in my lower abdomen and a small trickle of pee on the inside of my thigh.

Grandpa clearly had less trouble with it than my brother below. I was about to take his glans in my mouth when he came, spurting his load right into my face. Disappointed, I waited a moment. His shrunken dick settled on his belly like a slippery little fish. His breathing became regular again; it looked like he was asleep again. I crawled out of bed without touching him, wiped my face with my t-shirt and snuck back to the stairs. I muttered another kind of goodnight, but heard no response.

Downstairs, I fled, holding my sticky t-shirt, back into the toilet naked. Grandpa would not stick his dick through the hole again. I sat down and calmed down.

Until I looked at the hole. There once again a willy wriggled its way into my toilet. It was my father's beautiful adult member, a big one, but I already knew that. How many times had I secretly looked at his cock when he came out of the shower. Then it was flaccid. How big he could get when he got stiff, I saw only in my imagination. And now. What a beautiful one!

I didn't think twice. I grabbed him tightly. This delicious cock was going to come in my 18-year-old mouth. I licked the underside of the glans. Then I closed my lips around the glans and gave a few short tugs with my hand. 'Whew,' I heard on the other side of the hole.

My climax came now: I took his delicious stiff dick as far as I could in my mouth and sucking pulled my head back. And then again and again. He only lasted a few minutes. He was going to squirt. Now I could feel it coming. I pulled his dick out of my mouth and gave a few last quick strokes with my hand. I placed his jerking glans on the middle of my belly and the cum slowly ran down like a small river and stuck there in my little tuft of pubic hair.

As my father withdrew from the cleaning closet I used my t-shirt for the second time. I waited a moment longer and then snuck back into the bedroom.

I carefully opened the door and shuffled step by step to my bed in the dark. My brother would have fallen asleep exhausted by now. My panties full of his cum on the floor. But I was wrong.

I lay down on the bed. Put my t-shirt under my bed and pulled the sheet over me. After a few minutes, I heard my brother again. He still hadn't succeeded. I suddenly felt sorry for him: everyone here had a ghost but him. I decided to be his ghost too. I threw off the sheet, got down on my knees on the edge of the bed, my ass up, and said softly: come on, fuck your sister. Stick your dick in my pussy.

He got out of bed and stood behind me with his hard-on. He put one hand on my buttocks and with his other hand put his glans on my lips.