The House on Lae Atsilov

When you get a divorce, things can get awkward with your mutual friends. When you get an ugly divorce, things can get very awkward. And when you get a divorce where your wife runs off with the handyman, well, it can be very, very awkward.

So when I, the victim of the very, very awkward scenario, got a call from our mutual friend Joe, I feared it would be awkward. Turns out he invited me to have a coffee to talk about a business proposition, so my fears were misplaced.

We met at the corner coffee shop, exchanged the usual pleasantries and then got down to the business. The business was about a house, he had an opportunity to do some contract work overseas for a few months and needed someone to house sit a lake house he had recently purchased. He knew that I was in real estate management, so he thought about me.

"The house is over on Lake Atsilov, about thirty minutes out in the middle of nowhere," he said. "It's quiet, but it makes up for it with a lack of things to do."

"You make it sound so enticing," I said. "I have heard of Lake Atsilov. The Lake of Fire."

"How'd you know that, are you part indian?" he asked.

"I might be, my parents always said we were part Cherokee."

"Ah. So you should fit right in out there," he said.

My initial reaction was to say no, I wouldn't fit right in there, but as we talked about it I started thinking about how much I hated my post-marriage apartment. Eventually I agreed to go take a look at the place the next day. As we shook hands and set a time for the next day, he dropped the line I had been dreading, the one where he said he was sorry about the whole losing the wife thing.

"Hey, I was sorry to hear about you and Linda," he said. "That...well...can't...tough..."

I cut him off to save him trying to find the right words. "Thanks, I'll get through it," I said.

Driving up to the lake house the next day, I was unimpressed. The outside was dingy and run down, the interior was musky and dark, the condition was the classic "in need of repair". He showed me around the house, which had a very basic kitchen, a couple of moldy bathrooms, a decent living room..everything you would expect from seeing the outside. I was thinking about turning the gig down when he showed me the master bedroom, and suddenly I got why he bought the house. The master bedroom had been renovated, it was clean and sharp with great modern furniture, soft white carpet and a nice big bed with a massive carved decorative wood head board. The hand carved woodwork had faces and body parts and trees and animals all flowing together in an amazing showcase. But I really didn't notice that, because my eyes were on the view. The bed faced out towards a wall of floor to ceiling sliding glass doors, and through the glass was a stunning wide open view of the lake. Through the glass doors there was a balcony deck that was kept private by the high trees surrounding on both sides. So you had the uncanny combination of an incredible open view and complete privacy.

Gazing out through the glass into the expansive view, I became momentarily lost in the moment, and before I realized it the moment had become too long. When my attention came back, I realized that Joe was looking at me with a grin.

"Nice view eh?" he said.

I could only nod.

I was not only sold, I was mesmerized by what the view did to me. There is something about a wide open spacious view that changes the gears in your head. I suppose that's why those views are so expensive.

We sat out there on the porch and talked about the house, the view, the potential for the house, and our house sitting arrangement. I'm not exactly sure when it happened because I was distracted by the view, but at some point I realized I had not only agreed to house sit, but I would be managing some renovations. Joe would leave me 30k in a checking account and I would work on fixing the place up, and he would pay me a few thousand a month for taking care of the house and doing the work. I had to hold myself back from telling him I'd do it for free.

A few days later, Joe was gone, I had moved my stuff from the apartment to the house, and I found myself sitting on the very same deck, watching the warm, slow sunset while sipping on a glass of bourbon. As the sun moved quietly and gracefully towards the horizon, all the pain and anxiety of recent months flowed out of me and I felt myself at peace. Watching the red, orange and yellow hues of the sunset made me realize why they called it the lake of fire. It looked like the surface of the lake was had caught on fire. It was beautiful, relaxing, serene, it was hard to imagine a more soothing place. But there was something more, another feeling that I hadn't had in a while. Something incredibly...sexy.

Something about the cool look of the master bedroom, with all the natural light, the bright fiery sunset and the expansive view, was making me inexplicably horny. I mean, everybody gets a little charge from being in a different bedroom, but this was more than that. Physiologically, I was suddenly super charged, and before I knew what was happening I had thrown all my clothes off and I was sitting there in the open air completely naked. I was aware that if someone had a good pair of binoculars or a telescope on the other side of the lake they would be looking at me naked. And that made me even hornier.

I looked down and discovered that my hand was wrapped around my cock, and my cock was harder than it had been in as long as I could remember. It had been a long time since my mid 40s body had been inspired to jerk off, but that's exactly what I did. I sat there on the deck outside the master bedroom and jerked off to the sunset, not caring and maybe even hoping that someone else might be watching. When I came it was intense and messy, and I didn't care one bit that I unloaded all over myself, it felt incredible. I even sat there for awhile covered in my own jizz as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

After a while I went inside, got cleaned up and climbed into the big comfortable bed. By then the sky had become darker but there was still enough light to fill the room with a warm glow, and amazingly I started feeling another tingle of excitement. I looked down at myself in the afternoon glow and I felt stronger and more virulent than I had in years. I hadn't jerked off twice in a row since I was a teenager, but there I was with a hard cock again, and I once again stroked myself off to another epic orgasm.

I propped up the pillows and watched the stars come out over the lake over the next hour, and to my shock and almost horror, I realized I was becoming aroused again. What the hell was going on? I thought. Is Joe putting Viagra in the water?

I fought off the urge to masturbate a record third time in a night and managed to drift off to a deep sleep, full of odd erotic dreams I couldn't remember, though every time I woke up during the night I realized I still had a solid erection. By the time I woke up the next morning I gave in and jerked off again to the early morning sun streaming through the windows. Then I got a cup of coffee and strolled out naked onto the deck feeling like I had the world by the balls. And I was still semi erect, though I felt like if I wanted to I could go full in a hurry.

At some point during the next several days I stopped worrying about it and just went with it. I fell into a pattern of masturbating several times a day either in the bedroom or on the deck, and never seemed to get tired of it. I did notice, interestingly enough, that when I wasn't in the bedroom or deck I was not as horny, and my arousal would slowly wane the longer I was outside the room. I arrived at the conclusion that it was the open feeling of the room and the view. I loved walking around naked in the room and on the deck, there was something deliciously naughty about being nude out in the open like that. The other phenomenon I noticed was that I had begun to have very vivid dreams. I was not one who usually even remembered my dreams, but these dreams were impactful—and all were erotic. In one of the dreams, the carved wooden headboard above the bed would suddenly begin to swirl into live shapes, beautiful, naked women who drifted on air around the bed. In another I was in bed with two women who had dark brown skin, and we were making love, but my cock became long and fluid like a vine, and wrapped around both women, their legs, their arms, all over them, and every inch of the vine like cock was feeling incredible pleasure. But the most memorable dream centered on a woman who started almost invisible, and gradually became more and more visible, though her face was always just out of reach to me. Somehow I knew she was beautiful, but I never could completely focus on her face.

Over the next few weeks I worked on the house, taking breaks to slip into the bedroom and throw all my clothes off. The house was shaping up, and my arousal seemed to be endless. One afternoon after a long day of work and yet another intense jerk off session, I pulled a sheet over my waist and dozed off. I was in the midst of one of those erotic dreams when I suddenly heard a noise at the door of the bedroom. Jerking awake, I looked over and there was a woman standing in the door. She had dark smooth skin, and the features of a native american, she was young, maybe 18, and seemed a bit shocked to see me.

I wasn't sure I wasn't dreaming, but I thought I should speak up just in case. "Hey, I'm Dan, I am house sitting for Joe," I managed to stammer. I looked down and was moderately relieved to see that the sheet was covering me up from the waist down.

"I am Shanala," she said in slow, broken English. "I clean house."

"Oh right," I said, suddenly recalling that Joe had told me he had a girl come in every other week to clean. "Well, don't let me get in your way."

She stood there at the door of the bedroom looking strangely apprehensive.

"Would you like me to leave?" I asked.

"Not now," she said.

"Oh, ok, well no problem," I said.

She stepped back from the door and I heard her moving around the house. I slipped out of bed and pulled some clothes on and walked out to where she was.

"If you need to get in the bedroom, I'll stay out of there, just go right in," I said, pointing towards the master bedroom.

She looked over at the door to the room. "No, I no clean that room now," she said.

"Oh, ok," I said, but I was curious. "Why don't you clean that room?"

She studied me closely and again looked nervous. She mumbled something that sounded like "that room has magic," and continued to clean.

I shrugged it off, let her know that I had to go out and run an errand, and left her there to do her work.

When I got back an hour later, Shanala was gone and the house was immaculate, including the master bedroom. I found that curious, but then I started thinking about her reference to magic. She was ok going in the room, as long as I wasn't there. I could only wonder if perhaps the room had the same effect on her as me, and she didn't want to end up having sex with an old guy she didn't even know.

It didn't take me long to add more evidence to back up that theory. A few days later there was a knock on the door, it was the mail girl. I had seen her in passing a few times, she was cute, not beautiful, a little stocky in her unflattering postal outfit.. She needed for me to sign for a certified letter.

"Come in and let me find a pen," I said.

We walked into the middle of a particularly destructive phase of the renovation, the place was a mess.

"Might be hard to find," she grinned.

"Yeah, I'm working on a little project," I answered, finally finding a pen.

As I was signing the letter I noticed she had an open cut on her arm, it looked like a pretty nasty cut, not quite stitches but still bleeding.

"What happened to your arm?" I asked.

"Oh, hazards of the trade," she answered. "I was attacked by a rusty old mailbox."

"Hm, well let me help you get it cleaned up and bandaged, you don't want a mailbox infection," I said. "I've got a first aid kit back here."

I began walking towards the master bedroom and didn't realize that the mail girl was following me. I had planned to get the kit and bring it back out, but as fate would have it she followed me in. When she walked in the room I could sense it had an impact.

"Whoa, this view is amazing," she said, her eyes getting a bit glassy. Mesmerized, she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking out at the lake.

I got the first aid kit and sat beside her on the bed and began to gently clean up her arm to get it ready for a bandage. Sitting there on the bed, I was suddenly struck with the overwhelming feeling that the mail girl was the most desirable woman on planet earth. Her skin was so soft and tan, her curves underneath the dowdy mail shirt were fantastic, her eyes were stunning, her lips were inviting. As my hands caressed her arm I realized that she had turned her attention from the view to me, and in a sudden flash I realized that she was having the same overwhelming feeling about me. We had suddenly become intense objects of desire for each other.

What happened next was a blur. Suddenly we were kissing, tearing at each other's clothing, driven by a passion that had zero reservation. Within seconds we were naked and I had my face buried in her crotch, her thighs wrapped tight around my head and my tongue poised on her clit, and she was moaning, loudly, begging for more. She tasted like honey and I could've gone down on her for hours, but before long she pulled me up and told me, in not so many words, to initiate intercourse with her, which I readily agreed to. My cock was rock hard and practically throbbing as I slipped into her, it felt like my cock had glided into a silk sleeve and she gasped her appreciation.

I looked down at our two bodies and was mesmerized by not only how perfect her body was, but how damn good I looked as well. We both had a glow about us, an incredible sexual energy, all of our inhibitions were gone and we were, for lack of a better term, fucking like animals. We thrashed around passionately in the bed, moving quickly from one position to the other, always flowing together as if we had been lovers for years. Neither of us even seemed to notice that her mail bag had emptied out onto the bed, and she was still bleeding. Before long we were fucking in a sea of junk mail and telephone bills that had become blood stained. And we didn't care at all.

She threw me over onto my back and climbed on top. In my entire life I had never seen such a look of uncontrollable lust on a woman's face as she ground her hips into me, taking my cock deep inside her. She put her hands on my chest and rocked hard against me, fucking me harder and faster than I thought was physically possible. At some point I realized that she was coming, but it didn't happen as an event, it was more like a process. Her face contorted and she starting making a gasping sound, and her thrashing motions against me somehow became even faster and harder, and this went on, for what seemed like ten minutes, and as amazing as it was that she had a ten minute orgasm, it was even more amazing that mine lasted that same amount of time. It was beyond anything I had ever imagined, and when she finally collapsed on top of me and we curled up together amidst a pile of bloodied mail, she told me the same thing.

I took the time to finish cleaning up and wrapping her arm in a bandage, but before I was even through we were both getting that look in our eyes again, and soon we were back at it for round two, which was somehow even more intense than the first round and seemed to last for hours. Let's just say that the mail did not arrive on time for most of the route that day.

When we finally finished up we were wrapped up in each other's arms at the head of the bed, gazing out at the spacious view.

"I can't believe I just did that," she said, grinning incredulously.

"Well I'm glad you did," I said.

"Me too," she replied. "That was the most incredible...sex...I ever had."

Somehow the urge to deliver the rest of the mail overcame her urge to spend the rest of the day in bed with me, which would've been ok with me. She dressed and gathered up the mail, laughing at the pieces that were marred with blood stains. I helped her pull it all together and then we walked out of the bedroom into the living room, and like a switch had been turned off, she changed. She blushed, became embarrassed, got fidgety about things and anxious about being behind on her route. The sexual attraction and energy was gone. We shared and awkward hug at the door and she was gone.

She came back the next day though and we ended up back in the bedroom doing it all over again, incredible passion in the bedroom followed by awkwardness in the living room.

She didn't come back after that. The next day there was a new mail guy, and he said she had gotten in trouble for not delivering half the mail route and had asked for a transfer. I suppose she was freaked out by what had happened, though I couldn't blame her, I was freaked out too.

But not freaked out enough to want to stop further research on the room. I mean, I couldn't be sure it had mystical sexual powers without further verification, right? As a man, it would only be logical for me to select as a test subject the hottest, most unattainable female I knew.

It didn't take me long to make the selection. My next test subject would be Amanda Black, a smoking hot real estate agent who worked for the same company I did. I was in property management, she was in residential sales, she always finished atop the company in numbers because she was so hot that even women wanted to use her as their agent.

Tall, with long black hair, green eyes and full pouty lips, she worked as a model part time. In addition to being drop dead gorgeous from the neck up, she was perfectly built from head to toe. Long fit legs, abs to die for, and pert, round breasts. She always wore incredibly sexy clothes into the office, though in all honesty she could make a t shirt and jeans look sexy. Basically if you looked up rock star goddess in the dictionary, there was a link to pictures of Amanda. She was my greatest fantasy, the girl I'd give my left nut to. Literally.

Now Amanda was a nice, friendly sort, but to call her unattainable would be an understatement. She typically dated wealthy male models, because, well, she could date whoever she wanted. I think her current boyfriend was a former football player who had a family fortune. If I had been 20 years younger, with more hair, a six pack stomach and a fat bank account, I might have had a chance to score a date with Amanda. Might.

So this seemed like a pretty good test. All in the interest of science of course. So I called Amanda, told her I was thinking about buying a house and wanted her quick opinion on the price. She readily agreed to come by for a visit to check out the house in a few days. I set the appointment for late in the afternoon, figuring that would be her final meeting of the day.

Those few days were spent thinking about Amanda coming to the house, walking into the bedroom, and melting into my wildest fantasies. I was retiring to the room and jerking off even more than usual. My stamina never seemed to wane in that room though, so it wasn't like I wouldn't be ready when she got there. One day after a particularly stirring fantasy I lost my load all over my stomach, I was so into it I forgot to have tissues on hand. I dozed off on the bed in my post orgasm bliss, and during the nap I had dreams that the cleaning girl, Shanala, was standing at the door, looking at me naked on the bed. At times during the dreams she was caressing her breasts while watching me, at other times she was naked and crossing the threshold of the door. When I woke up from the nap, I did hear that she was in the house cleaning, and I wondered if there was any reality to the dream. But my focus for now was on Amanda, and all my waking fantasies were about her. Within the space of a few days I had every imaginable fantasy.