Mable herded my upstairs and into the second room on the right on the east side of the building, which to my recollection, had been the room that my grandfather had always used as one of his home offices - I hadn’t gotten the chance to fully clean it out yet, but I had had to be in there plenty already while we were trying to sort through any legal documents he had had. However, when we turned into the room, it was not set up as an office. All of my grandfather’s furniture had been removed, and it was replaced by an old, beat up wardrobe and a double bed. They’d even managed to change to wall color, from a gray to a brown, rustic look. Half of me started to wonder how long I’d been out, if they’d already managed to change so much about the house. The other half of me had already started giving up trying to find out - clearly these were odd people in general, so it seemed impossible to figure out their ways.
“Now,” Mabel said, “not sure where you came from, and frankly, I don’t care. You’ve had a terrible spill, and you need someone to nurse you back to health.” She walked to the wardrobe and opened one of the squeaky drawers, pulling out what looked like some darker colored rags. “Luckily, I am particularly good at nursing people back to health. You see, I’ve been with some rougher clients, and while some tend to want the usual, others just need a little attention. I’m sure you know what that’s like, needing a little attention.”
“I’ll be honest, I haven’t known what you all have been talking about since I got here.” Mabel giggled, which sounded so innocent when matched with her action of draping an old cloth with some washed out rust colored stains on it over her pillowcase.
“Maybe that’s for the best - while we like to get word of the house around town, I don’t want everyone from the state to know we’re here. We want customers, but we all only have so much time.” She tucked in the last corner of the rags under the pillow case and stood up, dusting her hands. “Really, dear, I know head wounds bleed a lot, but you’re really taking the cake.” She sauntered over to me and started peeling back the bandage that I had on my head, carefully inspecting the damage. “The good news is, though, that the bleeding seems to have stopped for now. We’ll get you cleaned up and you can have a little rest, and you’ll be back to your peak condition in no time.” Her eyes slowly traced down from my head, lingering for a moment over my chest because they landed straight on the crotch of my pants. She paused for a beat, and with the lingering attention, I could feel something twitching down there. How I had enough blood left for that, I didn’t know. Mabel smiled. “Well, it looks like someone isn’t feeling all that bad after all,” she chuckled. “Let’s see if we can improve that situation a bit. Plus, your clothes need to be washed desperately.”
She reached for the bottom of my shirt, slowly rolling it over my body. It took me a second to figure out what was happening, but I swiftly grabbed the hem from her and yanked the shirt over my head. It hurt the wound slowly scabbing up, but it didn’t start bleeding again, so I had more important things to worry about.
A small smirk appeared on Mabel’s face again, highlighting her pink lips and soft, brown eyes. “Thanks for the help, you’re a bit tall for me. Those need to go, too.” She reached down to the zipper of my pants and started fumbling with them. The button she managed to get done immediately, but she seemed to be having a bit of difficulty with the zipper. She tried to pull it apart, and the zipper whirred down a bit. Then it seemed to click in her - she stuck her finger on top of the zipper and slowly pushed it down, grazing her way along the front of my growing member as she moved. Then, she grabbed the waistband and yanked them down with one fluid movement. I stepped out of them in assistance, and stood there in my boxers. She paused for a moment, staring straight at them, a look of confusion on her face. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know where you come from, Mr. Brian, but you sure do wear some funny clothes. You must be French. That doesn’t matter, I don’t judge. Here, you’d better lay down before that blood rush knocks you out again.”
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She guided me to the edge of the bed and, before I could sit down, she thrust her arms into me, forcing me down onto the bed. With that one motion, I felt my cock fully harden under the tent of my boxers. She looked down, smirked, and then went back to her wardrobe for a moment. “I’m glad you feel that way. But you’re still covered in blood, and that has to go.” She reached into the wardrobe and grabbed another rag, then grabbed the pitcher of water that was sitting on the wardrobe top and headed back toward me. “And we know you’re far too feeble to take a bath right now, aren’t you?” I nodded, and her smirk grew larger. “Exactly. So the only way to get you clean is if I do it myself.” She dipped the rag into the water pitcher, then dabbed it onto my chest where, admittedly, there was little if any blood. The cold of the water shocked me a bit, but it felt nice as she rubbed the wet cloth in circles, slowly tracing its way down my chest and stomach.
“Just about done,” she purred, “just got to make sure that every last bit of you is clean.” She pushed the rag just under the waistband of my boxers and I shuttered. I’m not saying that I’d been on a cold streak, but it’d been a while since a woman was so forcefully interested. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at the situation. She met my eyes and smiled at me innocently. “Are you expecting something?”
“Not expecting. I wouldn’t say no to something, though,” I smiled back.
“Of course you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have the option to say no.” With a swift motion, she pulled back my boxers with one hand and swiftly grabbed the shaft of my cock with the other. “I take what I want without asking - that’s how you get things in this world.”
She started running her hand along my shaft in smooth strokes as I watched, already feeling a sort of tension building up. But I wouldn’t let myself come from just a few strokes - when you stumble into good luck, you’ve got to take what you can get. “God, that feels so good,” I groaned, unable to come up with a better response in that state. “But your mouth would feel even better.”
She cocked her eyebrow at me. “Well, I didn’t know that we had a little pervert in our midst,” she joked. “Is this what you had in mind?” She flicked her tongue out and licked a circle around the head. I groaned deeply, trying hard to keep everything inside for the time being. “Or, were you thinking more about this?” She grabbed my hand and placed it on the top of her head. As though it were an instinct, I immediately closed my fingers around her hair, and she smiled for a beat before she took the whole of my cock into her mouth.
I groaned again, moving my hand with her head. “Yes, exactly like that, keep it up,” I whined, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. I felt her mouth turn into a sort of pseudosmile as she worked her way over the shaft, and her fingers closely trailed, creating the tightness that I so craved. I moaned again, feeling my seed finally bubble up from inside me and burst out into her mouth. I collapsed back on the bed, panting heavily.
Mabel got up from her position and visibly swallowed, then smiled at me sweetly. “Not bad at all for your first time here.” she mewled. “And it’s hopefully not going to be your last. Or at least, it’d better not be.” She ran her hands down my chest one last time, obviously eyeing it longingly, and if I had been a slightly younger man, I know my cock would have perked right back up at the sight. “But that should hopefully help you sleep for now. Maybe next time, if you’ve got more blood in you, I’ll be able to play for longer.”
She winked at me and turned toward the door, taking with her the lantern that had been illuminating the room, leaving me in the dark, in what was both a strange and familiar room. I sat in the dark, wondering what had happened to me and if any of it had even been real. Maybe that paint can killed me, and this is what the afterlife was like. I could handle that.