Chelle felt the weather change around six in the evening. The mid-March sunset accompanied by a sudden but brief gust of cold wind that made the window frames rattle and the roof timbers creak. She opened the front door and looked out into the darkening twilight.
“Jess, Jess!” she called after her wilful tabby tom. Her voice seemed small and insignificant in the dark, deepening shadows that were gathering around the house. It wafted across the surrounding fields and was lost amongst the sound of the trees in the copse on the ridge being buffeted by another gust of wind. She had to lean against the door to close it, another barrage of wind hitting the front of the house head on. She turned back into the warmth of the hallway, long black hair now dishevelled and partially covering her face.
Her hairbrush was on the sideboard. Running it through her hair whilst standing in front of the mirror in the lounge she caught her reflection and smiled. Her brother kept telling her that she looked like the girl in “The Ring” when she brushed her hair, and framed in the oval mirror she had to admit the similarity. She didn’t have the blue-white deathly skin tones, but the resemblance to Samara was there.
She made herself a coffee, fortified with a healthy splash of cognac and allowed the radio to lull her into unconciousness. Her eyelids drooped and closed, her breathing slowed and alone in her deep, comfortable armchair sleep enveloped her.
She woke to the sound of a hammering from the door, the clock on the mantle indicated it was past ten. The wind was stronger than before, the heavy roof tiles rattled, rain lashed the windows. Half asleep Chelle stumbled to the door.
She opened the door and was shaken into full consciousness by the blast of icy rain that rushed into the hallway. A dark figure loomed in the doorway, hair plastered to his head with rain, his black overcoat dripping from a long walk through the foul weather outside. His pale grey eyes bored into her.
“I thought you’d got lost. Get inside.” She helped him remove his coat and hung it on one of the pegs by the door to drip leaving it onto the stone tiles.
He slumped into the chair opposite hers while she poured him a glass of whisky.
“She proffered the glass he took it with a nod. “I’ll get some towels, you’re soaked.” Chelle returned with two bath sheets and began to undress her sodden visitor. The removal of each garment exposed more of his flesh to be patted and rubbed dry. He leant forward, allowing her to remove his sweater and shirt, then stood to lower his trousers and boxers.
When she was sure he was dry and the malt was warming him from within she sat at his feet, chin resting on his naked thighs. Her eyes were drawn to his turgid cock. “So I suppose after walking all that way you’re too tired to … ”
She ran the nail of her left index finger along the soft skin of his inner thigh towards his groin. His cock stirred and lengthened. Chelle watched, fascinated.
“No matter how many times I see that it still intrigues me.” He smiled.
Her hand slipped around the now firm member and gently stroked its length. He groaned, shifting positioning the chair, hips thrusting upward to meet her downward strokes. You should be really careful with your extremities, if they get cold they might get frost bite and fall off. She slowly licked her lips. “Let’s put that somewhere nice and warm”.
Chelle stood up to remove her jeans and panties. She turned and presented her round ass for his approval. He reached out and stroked the full peach of her buttocks. His hand slipped between her legs and found the moistness there, warm, fragrant, alluring.
She sensed him stand behind her, his hand leaving her wet snatch and grasping her by the shoulder, now she was being pushed to her knees. She fell onto all fours, waiting for him to initiate the love making. His hands grabbed her waist, cock needing no help to find her opening and impale her.
She gasped. It had been a couple of days since they had been together and although absence certainly made him more enthusiastic when there were back together she couldn’t remember him ever being quite so big, or masterful. Her hair hung around her face like a veil, swinging as she was buffeted by his animal thrusting.
Chelle resolved that if the panting grunting wall of masculinity behind her was the result of a few days apart she would have to insist that they only saw each other once each week as her first orgasm exploded inside her. It was quickly followed by a second and a third as her lover seemed intent on climbing inside her.
His breath was hot on her back. Her head was spinning, the pleasure so intense that she didn’t register the pain from the crushing grip his hands were applying to her waist.
She felt and heard him cumming, a growling pulsing wave of orgasm that seemed to reach out from him and engulf her. He continued to thrust even after he was spent, snarling low in his throat. When he finally released her waist she collapse to the floor, in a whimpering bliss-filled delirium.
She was vaguely aware of his footsteps making their way upstairs and the sound of the shower curtain being pulled shut and water gushing from the shower head. Chelle let herself drift, almost falling to sleep.
Suddenly she was aware of a shape above her. She opened her bleary eyes and let out a shriek.
He was standing above her half-naked form, dark hair plastered to his head, overcoat wet from the driving rain. His pale grey eyes were glittering.
“You’ll never believe what happened. Some bastard jumped me, knocked me out and then, best of all, get this, didn’t even take my wallet.”
“What? What are you talking about? What were you doing outside again?” Chelle was confused.
“Again? Look I just let myself in with the key you gave me.”
Chelle’s blood froze. The sound of the shower ceased and footsteps crossed the landing.
“Who is that?” Asked Gordon.
With a horrifying realisation Chelle replied “I don’t know …”.
The stairs creaked as Chelle’s visitor made their way down stairs, eventually appearing, framed in the door. Eyes glowing red, light glinting off razor sharp canines.