The Sunrise Coffee House

[Buttah]

Continuation of story

That was then - this was now. It had started so gradually that at first she completely missed it. There were a series of small incremental steps that started to form over a matter of weeks. Her house seemed to transform day by day. There was never anything she could put a finger on but she now felt like she was unwanted in her own home. Her warm, welcoming house now felt cold and sinister; she was the intruder. Her gardens; always lush and beautiful; withered and died. The rooms of the house were always cold, even on a hot summer day. The sun often tried to peek through the ever thickening layer of clouds only to be thwarted time and again. The young boy from town who delivered her supplies left them at her door and took to heel as if the very devil was chasing him. Always a loner by choice; she now became shunned even more by the small town. As each day worsened; she knew she was well and truly on her own and her fears escalated.

She had no one; she had nothing. The cloud of doom had seen to that quite effectively. In a period of weeks she was isolated, a virtual prisoner in her own home. The cloud became denser; seemingly to come and go at will. Objects became blurred or distorted in the wavering mist and her mind began to slowly unravel. The creature comforts were secondary now; her main goal was survival from a force she had no power to fight. The days and nights seemed to blend into one; there was no respite from the continual sense of dread that loomed over her.


To be continued

 

[ccnyman]

Butter, you're leaving me hanging (ummm, from the story, that is).

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

I have often found myself lying in the dark
In the wee small hours of the morning
Wondering if you are thinking of me too.

We know each other so well
Even though we've never met.
Are you thinking of me too?

Is it just words for you?
Are these bits and bytes,
Or something more?

I need to know.

TS

 

[Buttah]

Continuation of story

Until tonight - tonight was different and she had felt it from the moment the sun had sunk over the horizon. Darkness had come quickly; the house had seemingly been enveloped in one fell swoop. It was if the giant cloud had finally completely swept up the little cottage permeating every fiber of its being. She had wandered the rooms trying to understand the change but to all outward appearances it looked the same. No it wasn't the rooms and the furnishings; it was the atmosphere. There was an air of malice, a malevolence that filled her with dread and fear. The evil, malignant stranger had finally captured her home.

Hurriedly she had stoked the fire in a futile hope that she could purge the invader in her home. Pulling her chair close to the fire she took up her knitting. Her hands trembled but eventually the constant repetition of knit and purl seemed to sooth her tension. The crackle of the fire and the steady beat of the rain were comforting and she began to relax. Her eyes grew heavy and the knitting dropped heedlessly into her lap as she drifted off to sleep. It was the wind that woke her with its eerie whistling sound as it moved through the trees. She yawned; it was late and her bed called to her.

It was at that moment she felt the evil return. One moment all was peaceful for the first time in months; the next moment her heart was pounding wildly. The room seemed darker and she stood quickly and banked the fire. Almost in a panic now she hurried to her bedroom and undressed. The heat of the fire hadn't reached here and she shivered in a mixture of cold and fear. Whatever force that inhabited the house was doubly strong here and she looked around the room in dismay. She saw the mist as it rose and swirled around her legs and tried to run but her body was frozen in place. The small mirror on the wall captured her horror as the vapor enclosed her body in an almost claustrophobic embrace and tossed her effortlessly upon her bed.

To be continued

 

[Jail]

*****

 

[Buttah]

Continuation of story

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as once more horror fought a battle with disbelief. She felt the pressure of an unseen hand as it clamped over her mouth and nose and she fought wildly to breathe. Her hands and legs were wrapped in bands of steel as she was held spread eagle to the bed. Just as her lungs were about to burst; the pressure was removed and she gasped for breath; desperate for air. Her clothes were ripped from her and she sobbed in terror as the cold air hit her body. The vapor had no form, she could see through it but nevertheless she could feel it as it moved over her body. She cried out as she felt her breasts being squeezed by invisible hands.

She blinked rapidly - this had to be a nightmare. The walls of her bedroom seemed to pulsate before her eyes, taking on a life of their own. Familiar objects were now unrecognizable, each one transforming into a hideous caricature of itself. They fluttered in and out of her eyesight adding to the dreamlike quality of the room. Pieces of her life floated by; it was almost as if they took great pleasure in the carnal scene below them. Pictures off the wall, clothes out of her dresser drawers, hairbrush and comb; all battled for supremacy in the surrealistic atmosphere. She had no time to study their motives; no time to try and comprehend what was happening.

Her head tossed from side to side and she shrunk back as she felt the pressure of an invisible body as it covered hers. She tried to break free but the old bed, the bed where she had bore her children; held her captive. Whatever it was; it was earthy and raw and she moaned as she felt teeth clamp down on her breast. Her hips were held fast and she screamed as the being took form and reared back; only to drive itself deep inside her. Her body felt split; torn asunder and the pain threatened to overwhelm her as the entity sawed in and out of her. She had always lived a spiritual life; a life where she gave of herself and everyone took. Now as the beast pounded into her body she felt only pleasure and unbridled lust. For the first time she knew how it felt to be one with something; to meld into one giant mass of aching flesh. Tipping her head to the side she could see herself in the cracked mirror, legs wide as the giant member rammed itself in and out repeatedly. Her eyes were wide and she heard herself begging for release; for the blessed ecstasy to overtake her.

To be continued

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

Loving the contributions . . . poetry and ghost stories, just like A Shelley / Byron get together.

TS

 

[Blue Dolphin]

Loving the contributions . . . poetry and ghost stories, just like A Shelley / Byron get together.

TS

But not the pics huh


No worries TS

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

But not the pics huh


No worries TS

Absolutely appreciate the pics, BD. Sorry about that. Not much into the World Cup though, since the US had that penalty kick called against them during the Angola game. Nice tit shots though. Might have to start going to more soccer matches.

 

[Blue Dolphin]

Absolutely appreciate the pics, BD. Sorry about that. Not much into the World Cup though, since the US had that penalty kick called against them during the Angola game. Nice tit shots though. Might have to start going to more soccer matches.

No worries TS

^5

 

[Buttah]

Continuation of story

The old bed squeaked and groaned under the frenzied coupling and the room pulsed once more as the sounds echoed through its old walls. Outside the storm was at its peak; the perfect complement to her ever approaching climax. Her back arched as she accepted more of the pulsing, pounding rod and the blood roared in her ears. She was no longer an old woman; she was a wanton craving more. Age and time were irrelevant as her orgasm ripped through her body. The roar of the being above her only served to make her pleasure more intense as it swelled inside her. Around the bed the objects swirled madly as in a vortex, inching ever closer to the primal mating.

Her eyes flew open as the being's seed flooded her body; liquid fire; indescribable pleasure and pain. The lantern crashed against the wall as she reached the pinnacle. Its oil ran down the wall; a perfect accompaniment to the fires that raged inside and she watched as the fire reached the bed. As the flames licked her body she felt exultation; a giddy euphoria and yes - a feeling of contentment and belonging. The heat consumed her; combustion was imminent. Like a moth to the flame and with a cry of pure joy she surrendered and moved into the light.


The End

 

[ccnyman]

That was hot in every way, Butter.

I've been looking forward to reading you work ever since Brie mentioned them to me. I'm glad I finally got the chance. I hope there'll be more.

 

[Buttah]

That was hot in every way, Butter.

I've been looking forward to reading you work ever since Brie mentioned them to me. I'm glad I finally got the change. I hope there'll be more.

Thank you cc, I'm glad you liked it.

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

Butter, you are a natural born story teller. Thank you so much for sharing your talent.

TS

 

[Buttah]

Butter, you are a natural born story teller. Thank you so much for sharing your talent.

TS

As you are a poet my sweet southern gent.

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

As you are a poet my sweet southern gent.

Writers aren't born; they're cursed. LOL

 

[Buttah]

Writers aren't born; they're cursed. LOL

~turns into a bat and flies away~

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

~goes batty for Butter~ . . . OK. I know it's corny.

TS

 

[Jail]

*grabs my musings, coffee, and leaves*

 

[ccnyman]

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, no. Think it's been used before.

Call me Ishmael.

No, something fishy about that line.

It was the best of times, it was the worse of times. . . .

Not bad, but right now it's the worse of times for me so how can I write about the best of times?

Arghhhhhhh. I've got to think of a good opening sentence.

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

*grabs my musings, coffee, and leaves*

Keep musing, Jail. I love your posts.

TS

PS. I just made a fresh pot of joe.

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, no. Think it's been used before.

Call me Ishmael.

No, something fishy about that line.

It was the best of times, it was the worse of times. . . .

Not bad, but right now it's the worse of times for me so how can I write about the best of times?

Arghhhhhhh. I've got to think of a good opening sentence.

LOL! Keep looking, cc. I know you'll find that opening sentence somewhere.

 

[Jail]

Keep musing, Jail. I love your posts.

TS

PS. I just made a fresh pot of joe.

thank you

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

I looked into a looking glass today,
And sadness filled my soul.
My auburn locks had specks of grey;
My once bright eyes seemed dull.

I remembered the vigor and gusto of youth,
And the nubile girls in tight fitting jeans.
I cursed at the mirror for telling the truth
And cursed at myself for unfulfilled dreams.

I remembered the rage of a vital, young man
Who struggled against sanctimonious age.
I wanted to be that young man again,
And boldly proclaim on page after page.

But now, as I sit in the silence of the night,
I see myself in a curious new light.
The light in these eyes hasn't yet burned away;
It only needs you to help light the way.

 

[Tequila Sunrise]

Sometimes I sit and think awhile,
And other times just sit.
I wish I had something profound to say,
But I'm really full of shit!

TS