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Subject: {ASSM} The House at the End of the Street 11/18 (mf ff msolo fsolo group inc 1st oral voy mc nc bon toys humil magic)
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<1st attachment, "Chapter11.txt" begin>

WARNING: This is a work of erotic fiction. It contains depictions of
nudity and graphic sex.

Author: A Strange Geek
Title: The House at the End of the Street
Universe: Haven
Summary: 4 teens find a mysterious house that can grant them great
power. Will they lose themselves in sexual revelry, or will they turn
from the darkness in time? Or does the house itself have an agenda ...

Part: 11 of 18
Keywords: mf, ff, msolo, fsolo, group, inc, 1st, oral, voy, mc, nc,
bon, toys, humil, magic

Copyright A Strange Geek, 2006

Feedback welcome! Please email me at astraYOURngegeek@comMINDcast.net
( lose YOUR MIND to email me )

Or to send anonymous feedback, use the form at bottom of HTML version:

http://www.asstr.org/~A_Strange_Geek/novels/TheHouse/Chapter11.html



---------------

Heather was still upset enough over what had happened with Richie that
she wished she could have canceled her "date" with Brad again, but she
had already done that every day this week. The last time she had talked
to him, he was starting to get upset over it, and her excuses were
sounding more and more lame even to her. She felt obligated to go see
him.

Any hope that he might be content with just her company were quickly
dashed when he started kissing her as soon as they sat down on the
sofa, and moved quickly to fondling her tits not a minute later. She
resisted him despite the soft moans of pleasure she uttered at his
touch. He took her noises as encouragement, pressing her against the
back of the sofa. She tried to extricate herself from him, but his hand
slid up her shirt and around the back the next moment, deftly undoing
the clasps on her bra.

She broke off the kiss. "Brad, wait," she said softly. "Wait, I ...
uhhh ..."

Brad had lifted her shirt and pulled her bra from her mounds. He
squeezed one of her orbs in his fingers, apparently heedless to her
plea. Heather panted as he stroked her now erect nipple. His hand soon
dropped between her legs and popped the button on her jeans, yanking
down her zipper. She automatically spread her legs, his fingers
stroking her through her panties.

It was only now that the question came to her mind: just how long did
it take another guy's cum to disappear from her cunt? Heather had no
answer to this and panicked.

"Wait, Brad, please," she said in a stronger voice, and finally grabbed
his hand.

Brad glanced up with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "What?"

Heather sighed. "I'm sorry, Brad, I ... I'm not really into this right
now."

Brad paused and gave her a small smirk, letting his fingers slide back
and forth a few times in her slot. He felt warm moisture against his
skin through her panties, and Heather clenched her teeth to stop from
reacting. "Funny, you look into it to me."

"Well ... physically, but not emotionally. So ... not today, okay?"

Brad did not move at first, and in that moment Heather was afraid he
was going to press the issue anyway. Finally he just made a disgusted
noise and snatched his hand from her crotch. He wiped his fingers
indelicately on his pants. "What the fuck's with you this week?"

"I'm sorry, Brad," she said, making a face."It's been kind of a bad
week for me."

"Oh, yeah? How so?"

"Uh ... my, uh, little sister's been acting up."

"So what does that have to do with you?"

Heather looked at him crossly. "I told you several times already, I
have to look after her when Mom's not home."

"Yeah, but I thought Tuesdays and Thursdays your Mom was home. Today's
Thursday, so what gives?"

Heather silently damned his selective memory. She was always frustrated
with how he would never remember anything except what revolved around
him. "I had to do stuff for Mom, okay?" Heather said loudly, hoping her
tone would deter him from further inquiry. "And Melinda was acting her
usually bratty self the whole time."

Brad just sat there silently, sullen and angry, watching Heather put
her clothes back into place. "Heather, you're seeing someone else,
aren't you?"

Heather was so surprised by the question she simply gaped at him.

"Yeah, I knew it," Brad muttered.

"Wait, no! Brad, I'm not seeing someone else!" Heather cried. "Why
would I do that? What gave you that silly idea?"

"You just haven't given up a chance to screw around since the start of
the summer. So who is it?"

"Brad, stop it. I'm not seeing anyone else. End of story."

Brad paused, his eyes flicking downward briefly as she zipped her jeans
closed. "Heather, don't you be letting some other guy fuck you. I mean
it. Not before you do it with me."

At first Heather looked at Brad anxiously, but it quickly turned to
indignation. "Don't tell me what to do, Brad."

"What, you mean you /want/ to fuck another guy?!"

"No! Shit, Brad, stop twisting my words around! I can guarantee you, I
did not want anyone else to fuck me."

Heather was able to say this last statement with a fair degree of
conviction by simply summoning up an image of Richie. And as far as
that particular day was concerned, it was a truthful statement, for she
had not wanted Richie touching her in any way. She was careful to avoid
thinking of Jason, however. That experience she had actually enjoyed.

"So how much longer am I going to have to wait?" Brad said,
exasperated. "Fuck it, Heather, I don't want to go the rest of the
summer without doing it. I already told you I'll wear a freakin' condom
if you want me to."

Heather heard the resentment in his voice. She knew he didn't like it.
If there was one thing she wished she could change about him, it was
his overinflated male ego. To him, putting a condom on was somehow an
affront to his manliness. She was already in a bad mood, so today it
only served to spark her ire.

"And by the way, what the hell did you mean about me not wanting to do
it with other guys before I do it with you?" Heather demanded. "Like
it's okay I go sleep around so long as you get first pick?"

Brad blinked in surprise. "Well, no, I didn't mean that."

"Don't treat me like a toy or a trophy. I don't like that. I can tell
you for a fact I don't like it!"

"Hey, okay, fine," Brad said quickly, throwing up his hands in
concession. "Don't get sore at me, okay, babe?"

Heather remained quiet for a few moments, fixing him with a level, hard
gaze. At least she had that to fall back on with him. If she showed
enough genuine anger towards him, he backed off. She could not afford
to have things go sour with Brad now. If she lost him now in the middle
of the summer, with no other prospects around, it would remind her far
too much of the summers she spent alone as a kid.

She had little desire to be reminded of her wallflower days, and even
less desire to go back to them.

Brad looked flustered after a few moments and subsided. It looked like
he still needed her as much as she needed him. All was well.

She managed a smile. "Look, let's just go out and get something to eat.
I promise I'll give you a rain check on today."

"And what about us? About us finally fucking?"

"It'll be soon. I promise."

Brad looked back at her and nodded. Despite his assent, there was a
hard edge to his eyes, and a look of grim determination spreading over
his face.



"I don't even know why you're friends with that jerk," Melinda said
loftily before drinking down the rest of her soda. The straw slurped
noisily at the at the bottom of the cup.

Jason stared at the half-finished remains of his lunch and shrugged.
"He's not that bad," he said tonelessly.

Melinda plopped her cup down on the table loudly, making Jason flinch.
"He must've really been a perv to Heather. I never saw her so pissed!"

Jason did not know what to say in response.

"Look, does he have to keep coming back to the house?"

"You heard him, Melinda. You want him telling your parents?"

"Maybe they won't believe him."

"You want to take that chance?"

Melinda said nothing for a few seconds. She finally leaned back and
sighed, folding her arms and giving Jason an exasperated look. "How are
you friends with that guy, anyway? I mean, you two are so different."

Reluctantly, Jason told her how he had fended off some bullies for him,
and how he tutored him afterward in gratitude.

"So I kind of owe him," Jason said.

"Sounds like you already paid him back."

"Well, he still keeps the other kids off my back for me."

"Yeah, just so he could get something out of you later."

"Come off it, it can't be that." Though Jason did not sound very
convincing, even to himself.

Melinda gave him a dubious look.

Jason sighed. "Yeah, sure, he knew last year that we were going to find
this mysterious house that ... that makes sexual fantasies come true,"
he said, saying the last part in a much lower voice.

"I didn't mean that!" Melinda paused a moment, looking frustrated.
"Okay, look, maybe we should just forget about the house. If we don't
go back, he's got nothing to tell anybody about, right?"

Jason considered this, but only for a moment before meeting Melinda's
gaze with a level one of his own. "You really want to stop going to the
house?"

Melinda leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Nothing says
we can't, you know, keep doing that stuff outside the house."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and even before the words
were out of Jason's mouth, they both realized that simply trying to
walk away from the house and never go back again was an impossible feat
for either of them.

"I don't think I'd be that good outside of that house," Jason muttered.

Melinda had the impulse to tell him that she thought he would be just
fine on his own, but she was reluctant to say anything that would
really convince him that he did not need the house. What they felt
about the pleasures that were being offered to them had gone beyond
simple desire. Now it was a craving. Not just for the sex, but the
power that came along with it.

"And I wouldn't be calling you 'mistress' anymore," Jason added.

"And I don't think I'd call you 'master' anymore, either," Melinda said
softly.

There was a long pause. It was apparent from their eyes what their
decision would be.

"It's ... it's really harmless, isn't it?" Melinda said tentatively. "I
mean ... no one's really hurt. Even Richie didn't really hurt Heather
any, just embarrassed her a little."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. It was all in fun."

Melinda nodded quickly, appearing relieved. She uttered a small,
nervous chuckle. "We're just worrying too much."

"Yeah, that must be it." Jason slowly smiled. "Nothing wrong with any
of this."

"And it's your turn tomorrow anyway."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it is."

"Just don't make me act like a porno actress, okay?" Melinda said,
laughing, though there was an anxious edge to it.

"Nah, I won't."

"Or make me and Heather do something with each other. Ugh. Gross."

Jason said nothing in response to this. He sorely wished it had not
been mentioned in the first place. While he had no intentions of
wanting to force Melinda and Heather into such a tryst, the seed of the
desire had been planted in his head.

Despite this, he refused to seriously entertain the notion with Heather
and Melinda. He would not make them do such a thing. No way. That was
out of bounds. He had made a promise and intended to keep it. There had
to be /some/ limits, after all.

Jason looked back to Melinda and forced a smile, trying hard to think
about something else.



Richie was incredibly pleased with himself.

He was still in high spirits when his mother came home from work that
evening. She had had a really busy and trying day, so much so that she
was actually in for the evening. Normally, she popped back home just to
shower and get ready for her next date. Thus she was in no mood for her
son's sudden effusiveness.

"So what the hell are you so happy for?" Sandra Gardner demanded of him
as she walked into the kitchen.

Richie looked up from where he sat at the table, eating the dinner he
had already prepared for himself. She gave him an angry look, as if he
were to blame for her long day and lack of both a date and some casual
screwing. Richie knew at that point that she was not going back out.
She had changed into her worn-out and faded jersey and old denim
shorts, and she had not bothered to fix her disheveled hair.

He just smiled brilliantly at her, knowing it would piss her off. "So I
can't be happy sometimes?"

She smirked humorlessly and crossed over to the refrigerator. She
opened the door and leaned over, her ample and obviously bra-less boobs
hanging down behind her shirt. Richie just rolled his eyes at this and
looked away quickly.

"You're usually whining about having to cook dinner for yourself," she
said. She slammed the door shut, a can of beer in hand. "You didn't
have to, you know, I was staying in."

Richie just shrugged.

Sandra eyed him suspiciously and popped the tab of the beer. She took a
long swig, leaning against the counter behind her. "You look like
someone that got himself laid or something."

Richie laughed and grinned.

Sandra paused, then sighed. "Aw, fuck, did you?"

"So what if I did, huh?"

"You're fucking too young, that's what."

"Yeah, and maybe you're fucking too old."

"Don't be a smart-ass with me, Richard," Sandra warned. "Were you at
least bright enough to protect yourself?"

Richie only realized then that he had not even thought of that the
entire time he was doing Heather. It had never entered his head. Yet he
was not overly worried about it for some reason. "Yeah, yeah, she's on
the pill," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He figured he
had to be right, since he knew she was doing it with Brad.

"That's not gonna do shit against ..."

"Look, don't worry about it, okay?" Richie snapped. "It's cool,
really."

Sandra sighed. She dropped into a contrite tone of voice when she spoke
again. "Richie, look ... I don't want you getting hurt, all right?"

Richie turned to her with a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Make sure you know what you're doing and who you're doing it with."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sandra paused, and in that brief moment, a look of guilt crossed her
face. Nonplussed, Richie just stared. She took a deep breath and let it
go, taking another large swig of the beer as if to steel herself.
"There's just some people you don't want to mess with in this town,
that's all."

"Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Never mind that!" Sandra exclaimed, pushing herself away from the
counter. "Who is it you're screwing?"

Richie blanched at this, and felt a twinge of anxiety in his gut. "Why
should I tell you?"

"Because I'm your mother, fuckwit."

Richie's eyes burned with both anger and pain.

"Now who is it?"

He paused a long moment. "Heather Sovert."

Sandra made a face, paused, and then sighed softly. "The Soverts. Not
crazy about the mother, but, yeah, Heather's okay."

"Gee, I'm glad it meets with your approval," Richie said in a snide
voice.

"Shut up. Just finish your dinner and go do something that won't bother
me."

"Never mind, I'm done." He stood and cleaned up the remainder of his
meal. "Don't worry, I won't be bothering you anymore tonight. Not like
you ever bother with me, anyway."

Sandra almost opened her mouth to say something to him but refrained.
She watched him barrel out of the room, a forlorn look in her eyes.

"You don't know half the shit that happens in Haven," she muttered to
the empty air. She drained the rest of the can in one go. "And you
better fucking hope you never do."



Jason tossed and turned restlessly in bed.

His thoughts were troubled. Something about the conversation he had
with Melinda earlier bothered him.

Did the power really mean all that much to them? Could he do without
it, and just have a normal relationship with Melinda? Jason was too
scared to try. He really liked Melinda, and he really liked pleasing
her when they had sex. The fact that he even had a sex life now still
boggled his mind when he thought about it. He didn't want to jeopardize
all that. Ironically, he felt "normal" for the first time in his life.

He wished Richie had not upset Heather so much. Really, what harm did
he cause? Didn't Heather think sex with Jason was going to be bad until
it happened? Maybe she'll come around in time about Richie.

Everything would work out. It /had/ to work out. Once Richie let
someone else have a turn at him, he'll understand more about playing
fair. Don't do something to someone else that the other person is not
going to like if you don't want it done back to you in return. Heather
learned that pretty quickly. He was sure Richie would, too.

If only he knew more about the house!

Earlier that evening, he had tried his hand again at more research, and
still came up maddeningly short on any information. There was simply
nothing more to be had about the house. It was the house that never
was. It shouldn't exist.

He remembered what Melinda had said about ghosts. It was a ludicrous
notion, of course. Ghosts did not exist. At the same time, he realized,
this did not stop people from believing in them.

Seizing on this new idea, Jason leapt out of bed. He plopped himself
down in front of his computer, snapping on the desk lamp and hitting
the power button on the monitor.

Now Jason's focus was on reports of paranormal phenomena in Haven that
might be related to the house or the surrounding area. Much to his
surprise, he was now faced with the dilemma of /too much/ information.
It appeared that Haven's past was rife with reports of the
supernatural. Yet even as he narrowed this down, he found nothing
specifically referencing the house.

He sighed despondently after about a half hour of this fruitless
search. If only he had a name that he could reference. If he knew the
name of the owner, or a former owner.

In a flash of insight, he thought about the portrait that hung over the
mantle, and the name "Mara" that was etched beneath it. What if "Mara"
were the name of the owner of the house?

It was a long shot, but he tried it. He searched for any reference to
Mara in the context of the town of Haven. He found only two references.
One was "Mara Lake", a girl who disappeared and was presumed dead in
1956 at the age of 17. The other was a "Mara Sanders", a woman who
moved into "a house at the edge of unincorporated Haven" in 1967 and
died two years later in 1969 at the relatively young age of 30. Her
cause of death was officially listed as "unknown", but she was reported
to be mentally disturbed. A bit more research indicated that his area
of Haven used to be unincorporated until 1975.

That had to be it. Mara Sanders was a former owner of the house, and it
was her portrait that hung in the living room. But once again, he was
stymied, for there was nothing about the house itself. Mara herself was
a dead end, in either direction. There were no details to be found
about her life prior to her arrival in Haven in 1967 and nothing about
what happened to the house after she died in 1969. He was back at
square one.

Jason leaned back in his chair and yawned, wiping his face with his
hands in frustration. This was one of the few times that the internet
had failed him.

He was weary enough from the lateness of the hour that he had trouble
keeping his eyes open. He clicked off the light and the monitor,
leaving the computer on as he always did. As he collapsed back into
bed, he tried to fix his attention on the low drone of the PC's fan to
lull him to sleep.

His fall into slumber was slow, interrupted by fleeting images of the
woman in the portrait, the house, and the still unanswered question of
what it all meant.



"Heather?" Melinda said softly into the darkness. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," Heather said quietly in return.

"What are we going to do about Richie?"

"I don't know what /you're/ going to do," Heather said, her voice
growing suddenly vindictive. "I'm going to get down to the house really
early, that's what."

"Why?"

A snort. "Use your brains, Mel."

"Don't call me 'Mel', Heather," Melinda said in a hurt voice. "I really
do hate that."

Heather sighed. "Sorry."

"You're going to do to him what you did to Jason and I?"

"Not quite."

"What, then?"

"You'll just have to find out. But don't come with me. Just come normal
time."

Melinda bolted up. "Don't you dare make him touch me!" she
whisper-shouted.

"Melinda, pipe down," Heather hissed back. "You want Mom and Dad to
hear you?"

"I just don't want you doing again what you to me and Jason the other
day!"

"I know. I'm not going to do that. I mean it. I can't get mad at you
enough to want him to do anything with you."

Melinda slowly subsided and lay back down on the bed.

"Believe me, I'm not going to let him enjoy it," Heather said.

"Well, don't hurt him or anything."

"Why should you care?"

"He /is/ Jason's friend."

"Some friend."

Melinda sighed.

Heather remained silent for a few moments before saying, "I'm not going
to hurt him, Melinda."

"I just don't want to see Jason upset, that's all."

When Heather spoke again, there was amusement in her voice, but not
mocking. "You really like him, don't you?"

A very long pause. "Yeah," Melinda said softly. "I guess I do."

Silence passed for a few minutes.

"Heather?"

"Yes?"

"Was Jason really ... well, bigger than Richie?"

"Yeah, he was," Heather said. "At least an inch."

Melinda giggled.

"And better in bed," Heather continued. "He even, you know, tasted
better. I guess you should know all about that, though, huh?"

Melinda giggled again, then sighed. "Shit."

"Now what?"

"Now I'm all ... you know."

Heather snorted in amusement. "Horny?"

"Um, yeah."

"Try to hold it until tomorrow, okay? I really do want to get to
sleep."

"I'm not that loud! ... Am I?"

Heather snickered.

"Well ... Jason did say he liked ... the noises I made," Melinda said.

"He made me make a few noises too." A sigh. "Dammit."

"What?"

"Now I'm horny, too."

"We better stop."

"Yeah. Good night, Melinda."

"Good night, Heather."
<1st attachment end>


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