Devin's Bed and Breakfast 3

Devin's Bed and Breakfast Part 3

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Sorry for the delay, and thank you for reading this story! This is the third part of a larger novella that I've been working on for a few months between other projects. A special thank you to everyone who sent emails. It's very appreciated. I would very much like your feedback, comments, criticisms, or general support. You can contact me at dsm_76@yahoo.com. I really enjoy hearing from you.

CHAPTER 3

That night I had another dream. This time I found myself in the attic of the house. It was nighttime. I could tell because somehow the roof of the house was missing and I could see a sky filled with stars. I was naked, afraid, and alone. I was also not alone.

The starlight shining down through the rafters was cold and filled with malicious intelligence. I stood immobilized before this unseen presence with my legs spread out and my arms open wide. I was Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man made flesh. I burned with heat, yet waves of goosebumps covered my body.

Then the light moved. It poured into the attic, swirling around me. It broke against my body with the force of a hurricane. It was a consciousness powerful beyond comprehension and so very hungry. It tried to push its way inside me, my mouth, my nose, my ass, even the pores of my skin. It wanted inside, and I was terrified that if I let it in, if I accepted this light into me, it would lose myself.

I woke screaming, thrashing against my blankets in the dark. My heart was pounding, and I turned on the bedside lamp, filling the room with the light of a good old-fashioned light bulb.

After my heart resumed a more normal pace, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. I guess Art's stories of witchcraft and ghosts must of gotten to me. I turned off the lamp and laid back down and waited to fall back asleep. When I finally did, it was peaceful and dreamless.

I spent most of the next morning thinking about how things had gone with Art. I kept hoping he'd call. I wish I could understand what was going on inside his head. Was he in denial about his sexuality, or conflicted? Could it be that there was something unique in our particular 'chemistry' that made it hard for us to resist each other?

A watched cellphone never rings, so I decided it was time to do little research on my new home. I was wondering if I could corroborate some of the things Art told me with news articles or historical references. I opened up my laptop and started searching, but it was pretty fruitless. I decided it was going to require a more detailed investigation then what I had time to do on my own. After all, I had a house to renovate and a business to open. And although I had signed the paperwork, I wasn't sure if yesterday's sexcapades has scared off my contractor. Just as I was starting to think I would hire someone do to the research, I had a brainstorm. I grabbed my phone and called my friend Scott in Chicago.

“Hey Scott, how are you doing?”

“Devin! How is life in the country? Have you started whittlin' and wearing bib overalls?

“No, but I broke the heel on my Prada cowboy boots. I wrote a country song about it. It goes a little somethin' like this...”

“Oh God, no! Don't sing!” Scott laughed. “It sounds like you're acclimating well to country life. Any hunky farmers take you for a ride on their plowing equipment?

I couldn't help but think about my hunky contractor. “Not yet, but I've only been here a week. Give me some time.”

“So when do you think you'll be open for business?”

“That's a really good question. There are some pretty big renovations that have to happen before we can open. Hopefully in the early fall.”

“Well, I think I've got all the boys convinced to come out for a weekend. Let me know when you start taking bookings and we'll arrange a date.”

“Of course,” I paused, shifting gears. “So I have a question for you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Do you still see that guy from that ghost show?”

“Yes, we still talk, exchange texts...”

“And fuck around whenever he's in town?”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Mmm hmm. Anyway, could I get his email?”

“Sure, but why?”

“Don't laugh.”

“Okay.”

“My new home and future bed and breakfast has a bit of history. Turns out the locals think it's haunted.”

I could hear Scott's smile through the phone. “'Mr. 'I Don't Believe in Anything' is living in a haunted house?”

Scott had me pegged there. I am a skeptic by nature. I firmly believe in the power of the rational mind. However, a ghost would be good for business.

“I didn't say I think it's haunted. It's just the local urban legend. I thought if your friend wanted to feature this place on his show...”

“You'd get free national advertising?”

I smiled. “Something like that.”

Scott gave me his friend's email, and I ended our call. His name was Brian Tanner and he was the producer of a show called The Para-Abnormal. It was one of shows where a bunch of people run around in the dark taking grainy footage of shadows and claiming it's all supernatural phenomenon. Getting the bed and breakfast featured on the show would be a great way to drum up business. But I also thought that the investigators on the show could use their resources to find out more about the history of this place than I could find on my own.

With the day slipping away from me, I decided to start working on a few projects. It was around noon when my phone rang. It was my sexy contractor. We made perfunctory small talk, then he was straight to business, wanting to set up a day to start work. We agreed to a Monday start date, and after some instructions on what I could do to be ready for the work crew, he hung up.

Bright and early on the following Monday, several trucks made their way up my driveway. I came out onto the front porch, and greeted Art as he hopped out of his truck. I was a bit shocked when a second man, who looked almost identical to him, got out of the passenger side.

Art walked up to the porch.

“I'll introduce you to everyone, and then we'll get started.”

“Sounds good,” I said. I was still trying to process Art's clone. He pointed to his doppelganger.

“This is my cousin, Joel. He's working for me between semesters of grad school.”

An slightly younger, almost identical version of Art? Hell yeah. Joel was more slightly built than his older cousin, but had the same facial structure, the same skin tone. Then I noticed the younger man was wearing a necklace with a rainbow yin/yang symbol. Art had mentioned that he had a member of his family who was gay. Was this cousin a slightly younger, almost identical gay version of Art? Clean up on aisle seven!

I tried to concentrate as Art introduced me to the rest of the workers. He'd brought several guys who would help with the demolition today. The last two men who stepped forward were the plumber and his apprentice. The older man was in fantastic shape, with a t-shirt that stretched nicely over a muscular frame. His dark hair and features suggested an Italian heritage. He was about as far from the stereotypical beer bellied plumber as you could get. His apprentice was a Latino man somewhere in his early twenties. The younger man was trim, and had amazing dark eyes.

“This is Matt Lorre, the plumber, and his apprentice Carlos. They'll be laying the new pipe.”

I shook my head. The next few weeks were going to be a real challenge.

As the men started to work, I wondered again at my recently increased horniness. Could it be some sort of reaction to moving from a dense metropolitan area to the middle of nowhere? Certainly Chicago had no shortage of guys to play with. But I never felt as lustful there as I did here in the new place. Maybe it was some sort of subconscious fear that I wouldn't find sexual partners manifesting as an increase in libido. Maybe I shouldn't have taken that psychology class in college. Rationalizations could wait. There was work to do.

By the end of the first day, walls were torn down, floors taken up, and a new chapter in the history of my old house was being written. I was startled how quickly the work seemed to go. For the most part, I did my best to stay out of the way. I spent part of the morning answering e-mails and setting up a web page for the B&B. I liked the name Duvall House, and decided that I'd leave that as the official name.

Around five o'clock, Art found me in the kitchen and told me they were wrapping up for the day. We hadn't talked about what had happened the last time we were in the kitchen together. I hadn't had a chance to try to broach the subject all day. As he turned to go, he said, “We're all out except for Matt and Carlos. They were wrapping up one last thing upstairs.”

I opened my mouth to ask if we could talk about whatever it was between us, but I noticed his cousin waiting in the hallway. Instead, I just said, “No problem. I'll see you tomorrow.”

I went back to tinkering with the website. I was so caught up in my work I didn't realize how much time had passed. I glanced down and realized that it was now almost seven o'clock. I stood up and stretched. Time for a shower, a glass of wine, maybe a movie. As I walked into the hallway, I heard a soft thump from upstairs. Were the plumbers still working upstairs?

I made my way to the second floor, and approached the second stairway to the attic. I had only taken a few steps when I heard another thump, and a soft moan. I stopped again and really listened. I could hear breathing, heavy, sweaty, sex breathing. I took a few soft steps up the rest of the stairs until I could peek into the attic.

I stopped as they came into view. The sight before my eyes instantly got me hard. Matt the plumber was stripped naked, his muscular back laying on the wooden floor of the attic. Carlos was also naked, and was sitting astride the older man, riding his cock. The younger man's long uncut meat bounced as the two men rocked back and forth. His nine inches was of average thickness but had a fat head that was drooling precum. Matt gripped Carlos at the waist, pulling him down to meet his thrusting hips, while Carlos braced himself against Matt's thick pectorals.

“You like that fat dick?” asked Matt.

“Oh fuck yeah.”

I was frozen in place, watching the two hot studs. I probably should have coughed or stomped my way up the stairs; something to let the two men know I was approaching. Instead, I played the voyeur. Involuntarily I reached down and began rubbing my cock through my shorts.

The two men changed positions, and I could finally see Matt's cock. It was almost eight inches and thick as a beer can. Carlos was now on his hands and knees, and Matt began fucking him doggie style. I was mesmerized watching their movements. The two men picked up speed. Matt grabbed the younger man's shoulders, really laying into his willing hole. Both men were panting and moaning, lost in their lust.

I let out a low moan myself. At some point I had unbuttoned the fly of my shorts, and had pulled my own dick out and started jacking it If I wasn't careful, I was going to blow my load watching these two studs. I took a breath and went back down the stairs. I quietly made my way back to the ground floor and returned to the kitchen.

About half an hour later, I heard foot steps coming down the stairs. After a few whispered words, Matt wandered into the kitchen looking pretty drained. Nothing quite like a good workout after a hard day's work.

“Hey there, sorry about the late night. We got caught up with something.”

Yes you did, I thought. “Not a problem.”

“Okay then, see you tomorrow.”

As the two plumbers drove into the night, I decided it was time to have a little fun of my own. A few minutes later I was naked on my bed. After a day of hot plumbers and sexy contractors I needed a little release.

My dick started to rise as I thought about going down on Art's beautiful cock. I wanted him again. I wanted to taste him, to feel him inside of me. I started jacking my cock, imagining Art naked, standing beside the bed, fucking my mouth. I wanted more. I wanted him to slide deep inside my ass. I licked a finger and slid it into my hole. Art would be so much bigger, and feel so much better. Damn. Now I was turned on.

I got out of bed, lowered the lights, and grabbed my little bag of tricks. I opened it up and took out a nice 8 inch dildo, some lube and a bottle of poppers. Back in bed, I lubed up the toy and pressed the tip to my asshole. Using my other hand, I unscrewed the poppers and took a deep hit. Then I eased the toy into my hole.

I moaned as I pushed it deeper and deeper. Once it was all the way in, I left it there, enjoying the sensation of a full ass. I ran my hands over my body, brushing my thighs, teasing my nipples, tugging on my balls. I was so focused on my own pleasure I didn't immediately notice the sensation of fingers lightly running along my bicep or a gentle caress along my jawline.

It wasn't until I had one hand back on my cock and the other gently teasing my hole with the dildo that I noticed someone tweaking my nipple.

My eyes snapped open and my body froze. My heart leaping into my mouth. The sensation on my nipple faded away. I was alone. It was dark in the room, but not dark enough to hide someone standing there touching me. I was breathing fast, blood pounding in my veins as a spike of fear kept me pinned to the bed. The only thing more terrifying than the thought I might not be alone, was the possibility of some unknown person intruding at a most intimate and vulnerable moment.

A full minute passed. The only sound I could hear was my own breathing. I had pulled out the toy, and my cock was flaccid. I was alone. My fear was fading, replaced with the realization that I was letting my imagination run away with itself. I wasn't about to spook myself out of a perfectly pleasurable wank session.

I was just about to attempt to get myself back in the mood when I felt something begin to rub my right nipple. I tried to bolt out of bed but some invisible force pushed me back down, pinning my shoulders to the bed. I struggled but I couldn't break free. All the while the invisible fingers tweaked my nipple, which was now hard. I could feel hands, if you could call them that, running over my chest, feeling my pecs and occasionally teasing my nipples. I was frightened, but something else was happening: my dick was getting hard again.

I remembered my dream from my first night in the house: the unseen lover, the immobility, the cock sliding between my ass cheeks. The hands caressing my body slid lower, sliding down my thighs. Lower still. Then they were lifting my legs into the air. I felt something at hole, a teasing pressure. I let out a low moan, both fear and wanton desire.

Something cold and hard entered me. I gasped at the sudden fullness in my ass, but it was familiar. It was the toy. It began a slow thrusting motion, moving deep into me then pulling almost entirely out. Slow and steady, I was getting fucked. I could feel the invisible hands holding me down, holding my legs up. Now I could feel more of them, teasing my nipples, caressing my toes. I had no idea what was happening but I wasn't afraid any longer, only hungry for more.

The toy began to pick up speed. I was rocking my hips, meeting the thrusts of my phantom lover. The sensations all over my body, combined with the increasing pace of the dildo, were getting me close to cumming. As my orgasm built up inside me, I felt the air thicken. For moment my incorporeal partner was more there. The touching hands suddenly had weight. In that instant I felt one of them reach out and touch the tip of my cock. That was all it took to push me over the edge.

I cried out as the force of my orgasm rocked my body. The jets of cum shot out from me in an arc, hitting my face, chest, and abs. I shuddered as the pleasure coursed through my body. As I came down from my high I realized that I could once again move. Was it gone?

As the sex-fueled endorphins receded from my brain my rational mind tried to come to grips with what had just happened. Outside of some sort of horny mental breakdown, I couldn't come up with a rational explanation. Something, some supernatural thing had just happened in my bed.

I pulled the dildo out of my ass and wiped the ropes of cum off my body with the sheet. I went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up, then returned to my bed. It would be a long time before I finally got to sleep.