Page 4 of Grave Obsession

“It’s down that hall, second door on your left,” I respond, gesturing to my right. “Are you going to check every room in the house?” I meekly ask. When did I become such a washed out version of myself? I can’t even talk with confidence anymore. I’m shrinking in front of him.

“Yes,” is all he says as he takes off towards the back of the house. I hear his heavy booted footsteps descend the stairs into the basement.

“Alright, guess I’ll wait here then,” I mumble to myself. Making my way over to the large sectional couch, I drape the throw blanket over my shoulders and sit down, wiggling in to get comfortable. It’s got sheet covered ghosts making funny faces on it and it makes me smile. My step father, Dennis, didn’t want me to have it, saying it was a dumb and unnecessary purchase. Crestfallen, I put it back on the department store shelf. Dennis and my mother, Barbra, went missing shortly after that and this blanket was the first thing I bought myself before moving into this house. I used to live in town with my parents, but throughout the missing persons investigation it was brought to my attention that Dennis owned this house too. It was a possible other location they could have been without telling me. It was searched but nothing turned up.

Being 25 and living with your mom and stepdad is sad, but working yourself to the bone to support them while they run the streets is down right pathetic. I wasn’t really surprised when they didn’t come home for a few days; sometimes their benders could last a week. What raised the red flag was when they didn’t show up after I’d gotten paid. They always came back long enough to drain me of almost every penny. Claiming mortgage payments, bills, and this and that. If I, god forbid, had to buy groceries so I didn’t starve to death, one of them was always with me. Making sure I never bought anything that wasn’t needed. I had brought up the idea of moving out many times, always to be shot down by the guilt of my mother saying I’d be no better than my father who abandoned us if I left.

One night, I’d had enough, there was nothing left to eat in the house and no money left in my account to get anything. Asking them for money proved pointless. I tried to leave, I wanted to get out. I guess I underestimated how inebriated they were. I had just made it down the front steps, only to be ripped back inside of the house by my hair. Dennis snarled in my ear that if I made a sound he would bury my body out where no one dares to go. I assume now that he meant this place. Ironic how the place that would have held my ghost has made me feel the most alive I have in years.

I ended up with a few bruises and a broken wrist from trying to leave them that night. I had never been beaten as an adult before; it was like a part of my soul had died that evening. Nothing mattered anymore. Whatever I had, they would take it. I started self harming, praying for death, but always being too cowardly to drag the blade deep enough. Terrified that my mother’s final words over my casket would be those of disappointment instead of sorrow. Some nights I thought of trying to leave again, only hoping this time they would kill me. At least then I would finally be free.

Chapter Four

Graves

Holy fucking shit. I’m inside her house, I can’t believe it. This feeling is euphoric, I can barely contain myself. It was a toss up whether she would call the police or not. I'm just happy I chose tonight to drive the squad car up here instead of my truck. I usually swap out for the latter on the nights when I am patrolling the more rustic areas surrounding our town, since it handles the terrain better. When the call came in over the radio for a disturbance at the Pederson house, I jumped at the chance to be near her again in such a short time. Twice in one night! I radioed back saying I wasn’t too far away and I would swing over there when I finished up my route. I got the all clear from dispatch and had to wait a somewhat appropriate amount of time before pulling into her driveway. It was almost time for shift change, which meant that soon, I’d have nowhere to be but here.

I’ve left her abandoned upstairs and made my way down to the basement. To my right there’s a hallway and to my left is an open area sitting room. It’s large, but sparse, clearly not used for entertaining. I’m familiar with the crime that took place here, I’ve seen the case photos and what’s left of the evidence that was collected. The walls have all been repainted a bland grey-aqua colour. It’s a strategic way to mask the stains left from the old blood that still peppers the walls beneath the paint. Something about colour theory or whatever. The shag carpet was completely removed, no amount of cleaning could erase the carnage that seeped all the way down to the foundation of this house. The floor is cold, bare concrete all the way through, even the bathroom tiles had to be torn out. The blood completely ruined the grout. There’s a door in front of me at the bottom of the stairs that opens into an empty room. Making a right turn down the hallway, the bathroom is the first empty room on the right. It’s clearly unused, does she even come down here? There's another room on the left side of the hallway being used for storage and the door at the very end opens to the utility room. Jackpot.

This room is right under her upstairs living room area and the furthest point from her bedroom. The noise coming from this room will mask any sound I make while sneaking in or out through the window. The hot water tank and furnace pick that exact moment to roar to life and everything is falling into place. We are going to have so much fun together, little siren. The window is right behind the clothes dryer, this couldn’t have been more perfectly laid out for me if I dreamed it up myself. The washing machine is to the right as I climb up and check out my entrance point. The locking mechanism is stiff and the window scrapes in the frame as I open and close it. Shit. Note to self: bring spray lubricant to loosen up this screechy bitch.

Hopping down from the dryer, excitement seeps out of my every pore. I’m elated, precum is leaking out of my dick. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. Fucking hell, I can’t go back upstairs like this. Dragging my gloved hands down my face and breathing in the calming leather smell, I collect myself. I give my head a shake and do one more scan of the room. Well, I’ll be damned, I must have been such a good boy this year because Christmas just came early. Sitting in a pile on a small table to the right of the door are her dirty delicates. If there is a God, he is clearly testing me, wanting me to be righteous and fight my temptations to be delivered from evil, or whatever. Luckily for me, I’ve never been a religious man. So, like the heathen I am, I scoop up all her panties and bras in my hands and shove my face right into the pile.

The sound that comes out of me is purely animalistic. I'm overcome with her scent, it's invading my brain, consuming me. Needing to have her everywhere, I shove a pair of panties into my mouth. Her stale taste mixes with my saliva and explodes across my tongue. The intense need to claim her threatens to drown me as I rub her musk all over my face. I'm in a frenzy, practically incoherent, drunk off this all consuming lust I have for her. Dropping her undergarments all around me, I make quick work of my belt, freeing my cock. Pulling her panties from my mouth, I wrap them around my shaft. The saliva allows my gloved palm to slide effortlessly up and down, gathering the precum dripping from my tip as I pleasure myself. My grip tightens as I picture her on her knees before me, taking me into her wet mouth. She sucks and worships my cock so perfectly, her tongue sliding along the underside of my shaft as she takes me as far as she can without gagging. Her tongue swirling slowly around my tip before taking me deep again. I’m barrelling towards my release as I picture myself threading my fingers through her hair, holding her firm as I take control. She pulls down her top, exposing her perfect breasts to me as I slowly fuck her mouth. She palms her tits and thumbs her nipples, taunting me. I’ve never felt like this, I’m about to cum and I’m not going to be able to be quiet about it. Sinking to the floor I quickly grab one of her bras, stuffing the cups into my mouth to smother the sound of my undoing. I’m on my knees, one hand braced against the floor as I furiously use the other hand to fuck myself. I envision her sucking me down as she rides her fingers to her own release, the imaginary sounds of her pleasure triggering my own orgasm. I cum so hard I can’t see, shooting my load all over her undergarments.

I’m out of breath, seeing stars, and my whole body tingles. Jesus Christ, that was a religious experience after all. I'm floating in the afterglow as I hear her footsteps cross the floor above me. That has me springing to my feet, stuffing my half chub back into my pants, and righting my belt. I quickly gather up all her cum splattered things and put them back on the table, pocketing an especially sinful black lacy pair of panties for my own collection. I stop in the bathroom for a quick check in the dust-covered mirror, satisfied that I don’t look disheveled, I turn off all the lights and head back upstairs.

I’m trying my hardest to be quiet, but these stairs are creaky. I want just one moment to watch her, be on this side of the glass with her. It felt like my heart dropped into my ass earlier, out there on her doorstep, I didn’t expect her to be standing there when I turned around. I was trying to rein in the excitement pulsing through me. Calming thoughts and deep breaths, picture babbling brooks and fishing. Not her screams of pleasure tearing through the serene forest in the early morning light. The fresh morning dew causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin as I lick her pretty little cunt.

“Was everything okay downstairs?” she asks sweetly. “I know it’s a bit neglected down there, I’m sorry for the mess.” Fuck, how long have I been standing here? I lose track of time thinking about her.

“Everything was tip-top, I searched every room and double checked all your windows.” Since when do I say 'tip-top'? What the hell is she doing to me?

“Thank you,” she says.

“It’s no problem at all, ma’am. This is the liveliest my nights have been in quite some time. Is there anything I should be aware of before I continue my search? Roommate? Big scary dog? Stealthy attack cat?” I say, trying to lighten her mood. She laughs, because of me. It's a small giggle, but it causes me to be sucked back to our initial meeting at the gas station where my obsession began. That day changed the course of my life forever and even with all the things that I’ve done since then, I wouldn’t change a moment of it.

“No. No pets or roommates. It’s just me here,” she replies as her cheeks flush with colour. I already know the answers to these questions, but it’s always good to double check.

“Alright Miss, I’m going to finish my search now, but when I’m done we can talk about some ways to make you feel more secure in your home, if you’d like?” I offer.

“That would be great, thanks,” she says. And with that, I turn and head towards the hall that’s to the right.

Mallory

Damn, he’s nice to look at. I wonder if I can get his number on speed dial so he can come save me if freakazoid shows up again. He’s tall, well built, from what I can tell, with dark hair. I assume it’s longer on top and shaved short on the sides based on what I can see sticking out under the Crystal Creek Police Department ball cap. There's a five o'clock shadow on his jawline and his mouth is straight sinful. His eyes are so damn captivating, green with a ring of honey around the pupil. I could stare into them for hours, running my fingers through his hair, gripping it, as he feasts on my pussy. Devouring me until I’m a writhing mess. He’ll use his tongue and fingers in tandem while he wrings every drop of pleasure from my body.

The sound of a throat clearing sucks me out of my delicious daydream and back to the present. How long was I lost in my mind this time? Quickly checking my face to make sure there’s no loose drool, I lock eyes with him. Fuck, I’m on fire under his scrutinizing gaze, my face is as red as a tomato, I just know it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, because of course he does. He’s a cop and I look like a fucking lunatic who can’t hear him when he’s right in front of me.

“Yes, I’m fine, sorry. I just zoned out for a minute, it’s been a long day,” I respond. This is so fucking embarrassing.

“Completely understandable given this evening's events, but I’m happy to report I didn’t come across any intruders or anything that’s a cause for concern. Did you want me to check the attic as well?” he asks.

“Umm, no, that should be fine,” I reply. "There isn’t even a way to access that without a ladder."

“Okay, did you still want to discuss some ways to improve your security around here?” he inquires, making his way over to me on the couch.

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