Ancestral

Unexpected Guests

I rolled over and looked at the clock. Four A.M., well, three fifty-eight to be precise. I got up and staggered to the bathroom. Sometimes if I took a piss, I could get back to sleep quickly, but more often these days I needed something more. I had tried listening to soft music on my phone, but that didn’t help much. The most reliable solution was to pull up some porn and just rub one out. I could usually fall asleep after that. Tonight, however, I just didn’t care. The sun would be up soon, and I had the day off. So, I decided to let nature take its course and enjoy the quiet and solitude.

It wasn’t often I had such peace. The rooms in the old Victorian painted lady were all let, which meant there were eight of us resident in the building, including the owner, Mr. Phipps. we had all come here for different reasons and constituted a fairly diverse mix of people. The ground floor was usually alive with activity and Mr. Phipps insisted that we make the effort to share at least one meal a day. That was the condition for keeping our rent so low. During the day, he was a congenial enough landlord. He was quiet and unassuming, with a taste for the slightly flamboyant and colorful. At suppertime, however, he would allow this part of himself to find full expression, hosting our communal meal as Miss McFiercesen. She took no shit from anyone and had no qualms about asking personal questions or offering unsolicited advice. When I first moved in, just a few weeks ago, I was a bit taken aback by this arrangement, but the other roomers took it as a matter of course, and I quickly settled in.

My room was on the second floor in the back. Mr. Phipps’ apartment was directly above, and the kitchen was directly below. The old house had heavy walls so sound didn’t travel well horizontally, but the floors were not soundproofed, so I could usually hear anyone moving above or below me. Tonight, all was quiet. I heard the normal creaks and moans that an old building makes, but nothing else. After a half hour or so, I decided to wander down to the kitchen and grab a drink or something.

It was still dark, but Mr. Phipps had placed small night lights strategically in the hallways and stairwells, so even on the darkest night the boarders could navigate safely without having to turn on brighter lights. Once I reached the kitchen, I searched the refrigerator for a drink and settled for a small glass of apple juice and a bit of cheese. I knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep soon, so I sat at the table to eat my snack and look out the window for the first signs of dawn.

I rose to rinse my glass in the sink when I thought I heard movement coming from the basement below. I could see nothing yet. The window remained black, offering only more deeply shadowed areas that were hardly perceivable in the inscrutable darkness. Sometimes I thought I could catch a bit of movement but there was nothing definite, maybe the breeze moving leaves, or a racoon or squirrel scampering across the back lawn and into the woods.

The basement was a fairly neglected area of the house. We each had a locked storage area there, and none of us tended to spend any time down there. The storage areas were clean and tidy, but it was still a basement, and always felt a bit creepy. Plus, there were large parts of it that were off limits to the boarders. The movement sounded a bit like someone bumping into things, not hard, just as if they were distracted and hadn’t noticed that there was a box or shelf there. I heard it again, and the third time one of the bumps was a bit louder and a heard the echo of a giggle and a shush. After that I thought I heard a short whispered conversation and again, a little laughter.

It sounded like it was coming from the area where the storage units were, so I moved quietly to the basement door and cracked it just enough to be able to hear a little better. I heard soft voices echoing in the stony darkness. The only word I could make out was “Yes”, otherwise there were just non-verbal sounds of pleasure and the occasional muffled moan. This went on for a minute or two before I finally heard a clear and fairly loud moan of pleasure accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin. It sounded for all the world like someone was getting fucked and enjoying every minute of it. It also sounded like both parties were men.

It was incredibly erotic, and I felt myself getting hard as I listened. They were picking up the pace, getting faster and more intense as the minutes passed. By now I had pulled my dick out of my shorts and was giving myself as much pleasure as it seemed they were giving each other. I didn’t particularly want to cum in the kitchen and have to clean it up, but it was as if I had no choice. The men in the basement were quickly approaching climax and taking me with them. I found the rhythm of my stroking becoming more and more in sync with the rhythm of their fucking. I knew if I kept it up I would cum when they did, but it felt so good. I just didn’t want to stop.

They were getting close now. I was getting close too. I knew it was only a matter of seconds. I focused on the sounds coming from below, completely enthralled, lost in the moment, when the sounds turned to an echo and faded away into the depths of the basement. I suddenly lost my focus and my eyes sprung open to see the first glimmer of dawn peeking through the window. I came to my senses quickly and stuffed my dick back in my shorts. The house would be stirring soon, and it probably wouldn’t earn me any brownie points if Mr. Phipps walked in to find me shooting cum all over his nice clean floor. I thought about checking the basement to see who was down there, but I could hear nothing now, and I decided that exploring an old basement was an activity best left for broad daylight, not the remains of the night.

Back in my room I finished what I had started downstairs and managed to catch an extra hour of sleep before getting up for breakfast. By the time I returned to the kitchen just about everyone else was up and active. I could hear other boarders in each of the second-floor bathrooms as I passed, and everyone else seemed to be in the kitchen making plans for the day as they ate their chosen morning meal. There were a couple of vegetarians among us, and one vegan, but the rest of us were carnivores of various intensity. It was still fairly early, not even seven yet, but the house was filled with activity and energy, quite the contrast to how it had been just over an hour ago.

Mr. Phipps nodded at me as I entered. He poured me an orange juice and handing it to me, said, “So, were you our mystery snacker last night?” I looked at him with surprise. “You forgot to wash your dishes.” He wasn’t angry, just enlightening me on how he knew I had been up in the night. “I know you’re still new here, but rules are rules. You need to take care of your own dishes.”

He was right. I had been so distracted by the sounds in the basement that I had forgotten to clean up after myself. “I’m sorry,” I stuttered as I sat at the table. “It won’t happen again.”

“I know, sweety.” He patted my shoulder and kissed the top of my head as he walked behind me to the fridge.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Ben was sitting opposite me, apparently reading the back of his cereal box, but the question was clearly directed at me. “You’ve got the day off, right? Anything special in mind?”

“Not really,” I answered. “I thought I’d just stay home and relax, maybe help Mr. P. with some of the housework.” I had been here long enough to get a sense of the regular routine. Mr. Phipps did any cleaning that needed to be done right after breakfast. We were all on our own for lunch, and he would usually take a sandwich or something and retreat to his apartment for the afternoon, emerging as Miss McFiercesen to prepare supper. We usually ate our evening meal at seven and had a roster that assigned two of us to do clean up after.

“Aren’t you a dear.” Mr. P. said as he shut the fridge door.

Ben continued, “I have a class at ten and another at two. Want to meet me on campus during the break for lunch?” He was in his early twenties and working on his Master’s in forestry at the local university. While he looked like a typical lumberjack on the outside, with a full red beard, broad hairy chest, and solid build, he had a bit of the fairy princess about him as well. This was most evident when he talked. His voice was soft and airy, and his hands tended to gesture with delicacy and precision. He was quite strong, and Mr. P. relied on him to do all the heavy lifting around the house, but he was also as gentle and patient as they came. He had lived here since he started college five years ago and the communal living room was filled with the elegant lace doilies he had crocheted during his spare time.

“That sounds great,” I responded. The campus was on the other side of town, about a twenty-minute walk from the boarding house, and the outing seemed like the perfect way to spend such a beautiful spring day.

After breakfast everyone scattered for the day, leaving Mr. Phipps and I to tend the house. He suggested that if I wanted to help, I could do some dusting. “The parlor is an absolute mess,” he insisted, handing me a dust rag. “I can’t remember the last time I got to it.” Of course, it wasn’t. there was only a light film of dust, maybe a week’s worth at the most. Still, I dutifully moved every knick-knack and wiped down every horizontal surface I could find. He cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms then inspected my work. “Very nice,” he offered after running a finger along a shelf. “You do such good work. Thank you for your help.” I thanked him for the compliment and headed to the utility cupboard in the hall to return the rag to its hook.

The front door burst open and a tall muscular man covered in tattoos walked in like he owned the place. He didn’t say a word but surveyed his surroundings with pleasure. Mr. Phipps stepped out of the living room into the foyer to see who it was and stopped in his tracks. In a dry voice which was almost a whisper he asked, “What are you doing here?” He clearly was not pleased to see the man before him.

“It’s good to see you too, baby-cakes,” the man said with a smirk.

Mr. Phipps folded his arms across his chest and demanded, “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying to look innocent. “I just wanted to see how the old place was holding up and how the old broad was doing.” As he said this he moved in close and grabbed Mr. P. by the ass.

“Those cakes aren’t yours anymore,” he said quietly while firmly removing the man’s hand form his ass. “The old broad is doing fine on her own, thank you very much, and I have plenty of help keeping the house up. This is Joey. He’s been helping me this morning.” Mr. P. gestured toward me and the man seemed startled when he realized they were not alone. “Joey, this is Helmut, and old…friend.” I offered him my hand as I said hello and he hesitantly took it, returning my greeting. Mr. P. continued, “So what brings you here? You don’t usually show up unless you need something.” Despite Helmut’s aggressive machismo and bravado, Mr. P. was clearly in charge of the conversation. Helmut sputtered for a moment, not sure how to respond and Mr. Phipps took the cue. “Joey, sweety, I think I need to have a private conversation with my friend here. Why don’t you run along and meet Ben for lunch like you planned? He’s such a nice boy, I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.”