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From: Shon Richards <shonrichards@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "The Seven Curses of Hannah" (5/9) (Mast, Voyeur,Magic) 
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Date: Mon, 22 Oct 2007 08:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Torment05.doc" begin>

This story of sex, magic, and voyeurism is owned, copyrighted and
so forth by me, Shon Richards.  Please don't make any money from
it, okay? 

The entire story has been written and will be posted on a fairly
regular schedule until completion.  If you enjoy it, please drop
me an email at <a
href="mailto:shonrichards@yahoo.com">shonrichards@yahoo.com</a>
as your lovely comments is the only payment this writer
receives.

More of my stories can be found at
http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/

The Seven Curses of Hannah:
Part Five

By Shon Richards


Thursday was supposed to be Hannah's free day. With the chores
for the week done, it was the day she dedicated to playing six
solid hours of World of Warcraft with her friends. Usually, she
would play a few hours every day, but Thursday was the day that
she really put her time in. It was a mini-vacation she took every
week.

This Thursday had to be different. Hannah looked at her house and
saw how far behind she had fallen in her chores. She had never
finished vacuuming on Monday. She hadn't gone to another grocery
store on Tuesday. Wednesday, the washer had fucked her so hard
that she hadn't dared to even walk into the laundry room again.
The house was a mess, and there was no reason for her to be
playing video games.

But that was exactly what Hannah planned to do. She got herself a
glass of water, some potato chips and a bowl of nuts. Packed for
a long day of game playing, she sat down at her computer in the
study and prepared to lose herself. She needed a break from her
life and her curses. She would rather deal with digital monsters
and fictional platinum.

"That's where you are!" said a male voice from behind her.

Hannah jumped in her seat. She turned around and saw a blond man
walk into the study. He was rather handsome, and he had his shirt
off. The relaxed way that he walked confused her. He didn't act
like an intruder. Even odder was the fact that he wasn't looking
at her.

"You walked by here twice!" said a short woman with curly red
hair, who was in the corner of the room. She giggled and danced
in front of the strange man. 

"It was all I could do not to laugh," the woman said "You didn't
even see me in the curtains." 

The man pulled the woman to him and kissed her neck. "But I see
you now," he growled. 

Hannah watched as the couple pulled at each other's clothes.
"Excuse me!" she said loudly.

They ignored her. The couple grew more passionate the more
clothes they ripped off one another. Off came the man's pants to
reveal very thick thighs. Off came the woman's dress to reveal
small freckled breasts. The more clothes they lost, the more they
devoured each other with their mouths.

"Excuse me!" Hannah said. She reached out to touch the kissing
couple, and her hands went right through them!

"Oh, shit," she whispered. Now she knew why the lovers were
ignoring her. They were some sort of illusion, or maybe ghosts. 

Hannah really looked at them now. The woman's hair was a little
too feathered to be current. The man's body was a bit hairier
than fashion dictated. She looked at their discarded clothes.
Hannah couldn't touch the clothes, but she could read the labels.
She didn't recognize any of them. Were these phantoms of a couple
that had lived here years ago?

The couple was on the ground now, fucking like rabbits. The man
was on top, just driving his cock into his moaning lover. There
was little in the way of innovation or positioning, but there was
a purity of passion and desire that Hannah envied. They fucked
because they loved to fuck one another.

The woman came, and Hannah watched the redhead dig her nails into
her phantom lover. Hannah felt her own sex awaken, wishing for
the same satisfaction that was written all over the woman's
face.

It was the man's turn next. He let go of what he had been holding
back. He released, crying out his own orgasm like a blissful
banshee. The man came, and Hannah wished she could have felt his
heat between her own thighs.

The couple vanished. Hannah released the breath she had been
holding.

"Oh, god, I need to come," she said. She reached into her
sweatpants and stroked her sex like crazy.

"Honey, I'm home!" she heard from the living room.

"Shit!" she yelled. She whipped her hand out and jumped to her
feet. She frantically wiped her hand on her shirt as she walked
into the living room. What was Adam doing home so early?

It wasn't Adam. It was a much larger man this time. This guy was
balding, and Hannah recognized him as the male half of the couple
they had bought the house from. He was standing in the living
room, two suitcases dropped to the ground. Kneeling before the
man was an equally large woman. Hannah recognized the woman as
his wife. That didn't make her feel any less jealous of the scene
before her.

The woman sucked her husband. The man stood. He shifted his
weight from time to time, and Hannah could see that he wanted to
sit down, but he was keeping quiet. The man was more concerned
with receiving the gift his wife was giving him. He touched her
hair with love, pulling her to him not with sexual need but with
a need to be closer to her.

The man climaxed. He yelled, and his whole body shook. What
surprised Hannah was how much the woman moaned. It was a moan of
triumph. She took her husband's seed with gratitude, affection
and care. 

Hannah had never wanted a cock to suck so badly in her life.

The couple faded away. She started to masturbate again. She
pulled her sweats off this time and just fingered herself fast
and hard. In the kitchen, she heard more noises. Still stroking
her sex, she got up and went to see what new apparitions were
fucking now.

It was a young couple this time. They couldn't have been past
their 20s. Hannah just looked at their perfect, fit bodies,
fucking like crazy on the kitchen counter. The woman was
screaming out her lover's name, "Johnny." Every thrust, every
plunge with of cock made her scream his name. The only thing
louder than her screams was the beautiful wet, squelching noises
of her pussy taking his cock.

Hannah leaned against the refrigerator and masturbated. She
fingered herself with the same passion she was watching. It was
exactly what she wanted. It was exactly how she needed it. The
only thing that soured her was the understanding that all of this
had happened   in other people's marriages.

The couple climaxed as loudly as they fucked. They vanished, and
Hannah froze in midstroke. She couldn't go on. She waited, and
then she heard the sounds of fucking from the bathroom. Hand on
her sex, she raced to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she watched the bald man fuck his wife with a
shower bottle.

Later, in the bedroom, she watched the young couple fuck up
against the wall.

After that, she watched the blond man fuck his wife's ass in the
dining room.

The study was an orgy as Hannah watched the young couple fuck a
large-breasted black woman.

The living room was where the redhead masturbated while on the
phone with her husband. 

In the hallway, the bald man ate his wife's pussy while she
writhed on the floor.

Hannah masturbated through it all. At one point, she came, and
she was shocked when the ghosts were still there. It wasn't long
before she was fingering herself again. Watching the endless
parade of sex in her house was stimulating her appetitive to new
levels. It wasn't enough to climax; she wanted to join in. Since
she couldn't touch any of her guests, watching and masturbating
were her only recourse. 

Around late afternoon, just a half-hour before Adam was due back,
Hannah dragged herself to the bedroom. She had heard fucking, and
although she had climaxed five times that day, she wanted one
more. After weeks of being sated by single orgasms, she was
throbbing with the gluttony of the day.

She wasn't ready for what she found. It was Adam, and he was
fucking a spectral Hannah from behind. She recognized the scene.
It was the last time they had made love. 

It had been about three months ago.

Hannah watched. She stopped masturbating. This wasn't the same.
Adam didn't pound her as furiously as the young man did. He
didn't stroke her hips like the bald man would his wife's. Adam
didn't whisper sweet promises like the blond man when he fucked
his wife. Adam just fucked, an in-and-out that lacked any real
need.

Hannah forced herself to go over to where her double's face was.
She hunched down on the bed, looking herself in the face. It was
fascinating. She saw her own need. She saw how badly she needed
even the half-hearted fucking that Adam was giving her. She saw
herself for what she was, one truly sexually frustrated person.

She looked up at Adam and tried to figure out how their marriage
had come to this. Had she gained too much weight? Was Adam's job
really that stressful? Maybe if she and Adam really worked on it,
they could bring some sort of resuscitation to their marriage. As
Hannah had watched all day, other married couples had no trouble
fucking the brain outs of each other. There was no reason why
they had to be different. They could fix this.

Adam looked to the left again. He kept doing it while he fucked
the ghost Hannah. The real Hannah saw him do it a few times
before she really noticed it. She turned to see what he was
looking at.

It was the clock.

She thought back to when they had fucked. Was it late? No ...
Wait, it had been right before his show came one. It was the one
with the crime-solving team of federal agents.

Adam had been watching the clock the last time they fucked,
making sure he didn't miss his show. 

Hannah stood up and swung her fist right at him. Her hand went
right through his lousy fucking clock-watching face.

The couple disappeared. Hannah waited, but she didn't hear anyone
else fucking. Resigned and a little depressed, she walked over to
the dresser mirror. A new shock of green hair had joined the
rainbow on her head. This curse was over, but her hurt remained.

 
She screamed. All of that hurt bubbled up inside her, and she
just let it out. After she had been worked up into a daylong
lustful frenzy, having it end like this was just cruel.

She pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. She put
her shoes on with a vengeance. She snatched up her keys so she
could lock up the house while she gave Samuel a piece of her
mind. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she was sure
it would come to her.

She opened her door, and Samuel was standing there. She thought
that she should have been frightened by his sudden appearance,
but she wasn't. He was wearing clothes this time. He had on
slacks and a nice black shirt. Despite the clothes covering his
body, Hannah couldn't ignore how fit and handsome her was. 

"I don't choose your curses," he said.

"What?" she said.

"I don't pick your curses," he said. "I don't decide the form
they take or what happens."

"Who does?" she asked.

He reached between her thighs. She didn't try to stop him. She
just stood still as he laid his hand on the outside of her
sweatpants. His fingers pressed against her sex, and despite the
long day of masturbating, she still had enough lust for more. The
October air was crisp against her face, but the heat of his hand
kept her from shivering.

"This determines your curse," Samuel. "It also determines your
blessings, your fulfillment and your misery. Everything happens
either because you want it or because you feel like you deserve
it."

His fingers felt so damn good between her thighs. She was wet
again, and she was so close to leaning into his palm. She
realized that they were standing there in her front door where
anyone could see. Sudden shame engulfed her, especially
considering how much she wanted more.

"I think you should go," she said.

Samuel removed his hand. "I think you're right." 

He left, and Hannah closed the door. She reached between her legs
and thought about what he'd said. 

To be continued,


 




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