My Haunted Chateau Secret: Watching Ghostly Lovers Unleash Forbidden Lust
I’ve kept this locked in my private locker for years. That sweltering summer afternoon, work stalled in the heat haze. I craved cool stone. Friend Richard raved about a nearby chateau. I drove over, sweat soaking my shirt. Arrived disappointed. Not a real castle, just a mishmash of styles in a vast park. Restored by eccentric rich Americans, now dead, sold cheap to the town.
Crowd in the shady courtyard irked me. Families with sweaty kids. Singles eyeing each other. Couples smug. Then, off to the side, them: Ken and Barbella. Mid-thirties, hippie vibes. Him in an open ruffled shirt, bare chest. Her in a short ’70s skirt, thigh-high boots, sheer top barely hiding full breasts. They embraced hotly, oblivious. My pulse quickened. I decided: no more holding back. I’d watch. Let desire flood out.
Unlocking the Private Locker
Guides arrived. Bossy blonde in tight suit, sweet brunette Julie in flowing cotton. Group moved inside. I lagged. Caught Ken and Barbella kissing fiercely in the doorway. They trailed us, groping bolder each room. In the grand salon, his hand slid under her skirt. She giggled, ass cheeks flashing. Kitchen: she pinned him to the oak table, fingers diving into his pants. Stroking slow, rhythmic. Lips locked, breaths heavy. My cock twitched hard.
Armory shadows: her on knees, sucking him deep. Head bobbing, cheeks hollowing. He gripped a credence, knees buckling. Upstairs, erotic art gallery. I lingered on daguerreotypes of masked nudes, pussies spread wide. Music room: he lifted her onto the harpsichord. Kissed up her thighs, tongue delving her wet slit. She arched, fingers in his hair, moans stifled.
Bedroom: them naked under canopy. She rode him cowgirl, tits firm, sweat-glistened. Back arched, pussy gripping his thick cock thrusting up. I snuck closer. Heat from their bodies hit me. Nipples erect, her face ecstasy-twisted. She saw me. Beckoned. My heart pounded, dick straining. But a kid interrupted.
Surrender to Spectral Passion
Serre stifling. Through grimy glass, them nude by the well. Her bent over, legs spread. He entered slow, then pounded. Ass rippling. They turned: her facing me, riding reverse on the rim, pussy lips purple, stretched around him. Then gardener appeared. Young hunk. They stripped him. Her squatting on him, Ken taking her ass from behind. Double-penetrated, sandwiched, trembling on the edge.
Chaos. He fell in. She followed, pulling him. Storm brewed. Group exited serre. Courtyard empty. Ghosts gone. Guide droned: old owners and gardener found naked at well bottom. Decomposed orgy mystery.
Julie beside me. Knew I’d seen them. Her hand in mine. Rain hit. We dashed to my car. Told her everything. Raw details. Her eyes lit. At my place, we dried off. She stripped slow. Full lips on mine. Hands everywhere. I entered her wet heat, thrusting deep. She clawed my back, legs locked. We came hard, bodies slick.
Locker shut now. Light, sated. Our secret binds us.
