Ginge had made a brief stop in the games room after supper. Whilst being soundly thrashed by Godfrey earlier, his mind had wandered, and he had noted the titles on the spines of some of the books. One in particular had stood out.
He had heard of The Prawn, but had believed all talk of the naughty Victorian magazine to be rumour and exaggeration. So, when he had seen a book, titled “The Prawn: 1888-1891”, he had been intrigued enough to want a closer look. Expecting a joke at the expense of anyone seeking the smutty tales their grandparents diddled to, he had innocently enquired whether he may take a tale to bed for some night time reading. Toby, as the gracious host, had been happy to say yes.
Now, Ginge was discovering that The Prawn was no myth, and finding himself turned on by tales of nineteenth century lasciviousness. There were encounters in Hansom cabs, vicarages, and grand country houses. Indeed, the one he was reading right now- one of the longer tales, with multiple couplings and menages- was taking place in the grand home of one Lord C——-s, recently enriched and ennobled master of industry. It didn’t feel much of a leap to conclude that it could easily be describing the very building he was in, and involved a predecessor of the current Lord Carstairs.
The current scene took place in a summer house somewhere in the grounds, which reminded him of Jiggles’ story about her fun with Erin. The thought that the saucy activities he was reading about could have occurred nearby, albeit fifty or more years before. He felt his erection nudging at the book, the effect was so strong.
It was almost as if he could hear the cries of pleasure the horny lord and the lusty lady he was pleasuring, Ginge mused. They were strangely muted, and seemed to have an odd echo to them, though. Ginge looked up from the book, closing it slowly and quietly. Those sounds were not from his imagination, they were real. He moved his head around, trying to get a sense of the direction the noises were coming from.
It wasn’t an easy task, because the carnal sounds appeared to be coming from inside the walls. This was what Melissa meant when she talked about the hall’s ghost. That it was recognisably two, or maybe more, people making love, meant that Toby’s suspicions were looking more likely to be correct. Now it was time for Ginge to investigate his theory about the source of the noises.
He put the book down on the bedside table, and slipped from the bed. Even in the middle of the night, it was probably best if he didn’t wander around naked. So he picked up the pair of light linen trousers he had draped over a chair, and pulled them on as he hopped to the door.
Before opening the door, Ginge put an ear to the panel, and listened for noises in the hallway. He had left the lamp on, so, as soon as he opened the door, he was going to illuminate the entire hallway. But, as he heard nothing, he didn’t expect anyone to see it.
In the corridor, with the door closed behind him, it was pitch black. He had to guess where he was heading, crossing directly from his room, then feeling his way along the panelling. The distorted sounds of lovemaking were no use as a guide. They appeared to be distorted through the walls and emanating from ventilation panels all around. Upon reaching the corner, he worked his way back, pressing the wood at intervals, until it moved, and he heard a click.
When he released the pressure, he felt the section of wall swing out. His thumb found the edge of the wood and hooked around it to pull the secret door open. The amorous noises that he was seeking became clearer now. There was an echo to them, that suggested they originated a floor or two lower down, but the distortion of channelling through ducts and air gaps was no longer layered on top of them. He stepped into the Shaft, and found the handle on the inside so that he could pull the door closed behind himself.
Somehow, it felt even darker in the closed Shaft. Perhaps it was the claustrophobic knowledge that the space was narrow, or maybe there had been the slightest hint of illumination escaping from his room when he had been in the corridor.
He tried to remember how the Shaft was laid out, based upon his brief look at it earlier. Reaching to either side, he found the limits of the space without having to stretch his arms all the way out. Fingers tracing the walls, he shuffled his bare feet forwards, until his toes curled over the edge of a step. HE slid the other foot over the edge, into open space, then dared to lower it, searching for the next step.
It felt precarious, to an almost frightening degree. In this darkness, it was easy to imagine that there was no step beyond the one he stood on. That he would keep on leaning forwards, foot going lower and lower, until he lost his balance and tumbled over the edge and down a deep dark hole.
His left hand, moving forwards and down as he bent, found a shallow strip butting out of the wall. A bannister of sorts, he hoped. Grasping it, he felt significantly more secure as his foot continued to drop. Just at the point that felt like the edge of disaster, the sole of his free foot touched down on a hard surface. He almost sprang back in surprise. Testing it, he found that it took his weight. He moved his other foot down to join it.
Now that he had successfully navigated one step, Ginge felt much more confident. Finding the next one was far less nerve wracking, and he was soon moving downwards. He stumbled slightly when he came to the first landing, then turned around the sharp corner to the next flight.
All the while, the sounds of a couple making love drew him on. A man and a woman were in the throes of passion nearby, the sounds even clearer now. He estimated they were on the landing at the bottom of this flight of stairs, or just around the corner and on the next flight.
With hearty grunts and wanton cries, the couple climaxed together, and sank into satiated panting. Ginge was sad that the aural extravaganza was over, but he kept on descending. His plan had been to track down the sounds, and then spy on whoever or whatever was making them. That was going to be impossible in this darkness. But he couldn’t resist drawing closer to the sources, almost as if guided by the fine erection poking against the front of his light trousers.
Ginge put all his weight on the next step, and there was the creak of wood flexing. There was a feminine gasp from mere feet away. When the woman spoke, her voice carried none of the fear or anger that might have been expected. “Oh, we have another with us. Did you arrange this?”
The very male grunt that was the reply was in the negative. “Well, maybe mister Lynes pulled another name from the hat for fun. I wonder who it could be? And coming from above an’all?” She giggled, then added, obviously addressing Ginge, “Don’t go opening your mouth, now. Don’t give me no hints. Maybe I can guess who you are by feel. Come closer.”
Ginge stepped onto the landing, and took careful steps toward the voice. Slim fingers caught hold of his right leg, and he almost jumped at the shock of contact.
“What’s this? Trousers? We’ll have to have those off. Stand still a moment, stranger.” There were the sounds of two people moving on the stairs, shifting their positions as the drew closer, until there was one on either side of Ginge. If what Jiggles had told him was correct, then the bodies in the dark with him belonged to Lucy, a maid, and Clive, one of the gardeners. He couldn’t be sure, and neither of them could possibly know who he was. He was going to think of them as Lucy and Clive, but the mystery heightened the excitement.
The hand worked its way up Ginge’s trouser clad leg. Another found his other leg and started climbing as well. This one felt larger, stronger. Even through the material of his trousers, Ginge was certain that the skin of this second hand was rougher. “It’s a man, I’m sure, with these trousers and legs.” said the woman Ginge had decided was Lucy. Clive just grunted.
Lucy’s hand had reached the top of Ginge’s leg. Here, the material was taut, where his erection pressed against it. She sensed this, and quickly found her way to the pole holding the tent up. Slim fingers closed over his cock. “It’s a man. Definitely a man. Could it be Roger? No. Roger’s not this well endowed. Here, you have a feel, see if you can guess who it is.”
Clive grunted again. It seemed his preferred form of communication here in the dark. The small hand let go of Ginge’s shaft, and the larger one found it. It moved up and down his erection, rubbing the linen against it, making him shiver. The sound Clive made could easily be translated as “I don’t know.”
“Let’s taste it.” Lucy suggested. Ginge felt fingers tracing along the waistband of his trousers, then curling around inside it. They tugged his trousers down to his ankles quickly. A light kiss landed near the base of his erection, then there was another up by the head. He reached out to either side, until he found the wall, and braced himself.
The kisses at the base of his shaft continued, working their way up and down, teasing him. The lips at the tip, however, went away. They were almost immediately replaced by a strong tongue, lapping at him, swirling around the head, and taking a taste. He had to let out a gasp.
As his gasp became a moan, Ginge was surprised to hear it echo back around him. He couldn’t help but smile, and had to fight back a chuckle. He had entered the Shaft expecting to find the source of the noises Melissa attributed to a haunting. Now he was making some of them. The lips nibbling at the base of his shaft- he was sure they were daintier, and must belong to Lucy- moved down to his scrotum. As they tried to gently get a grip on a testicle, he let out a surprised and happy groan that reverberated around him.
There hadn’t been these echoes when Lucy had spoken, or when Clive had grunted. It was almost as if the Shaft were tuned to amplify a certain range of sounds. Ginge couldn’t help but presume that this was deliberate. The story in The Prawn had to be about this house, or inspired by it, he concluded.
Clive was taking ever more of Ginge’s length between his lips. Every so often, he would slurp up to the head of Ginge’s cock, pause, then suck back down it again, going a little further each time. The pleasure of it meant that Ginge didn’t immediately notice that his testicle had been released.
He realised that Lucy had moved when he felt the brush of naked skin against the top of his thigh. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that one of her big breasts might be pressing against him. Two hands with slim fingers traced their way up his side, until the reached his left arm. Then they walked along the limb, until they could persuade his hand to stop pressing against the wall, and come with them.
Ginge’s hand was guided down, until it slipped between her body and his, and he had hold of a luscious breast. Even though she had known what was coming, she squeaked with joy as he squeezed her.
They carried on like this for a while longer. Clive had stopped sucking so hard at him, doing just enough to keep him excited and very hard. Lucy pressed against Ginge’s hand as he kneaded her breast. “This isn’t one a the staff.” she whispered after a while. “It must be one a the guests.”
Clive stopped sucking. He could be forgiven for grunting this time, given what was in his mouth. “Oh, no, of course we’re not gonna stop. We’ve done it with guests before. Well, I has. You won’t get us into trouble, will you sir?” Lucy answered.
“No.” Ginge managed to say.
“See, everything is fine. Why don’t we let him suck on you, Clive. You do have such a wonderful cock, after all.”
So, they rearranged their positions. Ginge was guided until he sat on a step. Bending forwards, he found Clive standing on the landing. With hands on the gardener’s hips, he guided him closer, until the head of a long, fat erection nudged against his nose. He soon had the glans between his lips, and was swirling his tongue around it, eagerly tasting it.
Lucy had disappeared momentarily. She made here presence known again as a hand sneaked around Clive’s legs to find Ginge’s wet erection and start pumping up and down it. After moving around in the limited space, she managed to dip her lips to Ginge’s erection. As they closed around the glans, and sucked it in, he did the same to Clive.
Sucking and being sucked, Ginge was in heaven. He and Lucy couldn’t make much noise, but Clive more than compensated for that all by himself. He let out a long, loud, “Ohhhhh!” which warbled and modulated based upon the actions of Ginge’s tongue. The cry echoed back down the Shaft to wrap around them and enhance the experience.
If his mouth hadn’t been full, Ginge would have been making similar sounds to Clive. Lucy certainly knew how to use her lips and tongue to provide pleasure. That he could taste her juices on Clive’s fat cock added to the pleasure of the moment. He reached up, and cupped heavy balls in the palm of his hand.
Clive was right on the edge of climax now, inspired toward orgasm by the actions of Ginge’s tongue. He must have been gentleman enough to take Lucy to the height of her pleasure, then greet the newcomer to their assignation in an appropriate manner. Ginge was going to make sure he was properly rewarded.
The vibration of Lucy’s lips and tongue on Ginge’s shaft told him that she was enjoying the actions of her own fingers, and was as close as he and Clive were to climax. Clive’s testicles had withdrawn up into his body, and Ginge could feel the pulse at the base that presaged climax.
His own semen was boiling up from the base of his cock. He clutched the muscles of his thighs, trying to hold it back, just a little longer. Not for long, though. Just as he felt the first warm, salty drops hit his tongue, he let his own load shoot out into Lucy’s mouth. She sucked in time with him, until her own orgasm shivered through her. Opening sticky lips to release him, she added her own cries of pleasure to those of Clive.
They subsided into heavy breathing and satiated sighs, with a giggle from Lucy at the naughtiness of it all. After a while, when they were all breathing steadily again, she said, “Well, I would love another go round. But we all got to get our sleep. Off you go back upstairs, sir, and maybe tomorrow, I will guess who you are.”
Ginge found the bannister, and used it to help himself back up to his feet. When he was upright, he felt Lucy’s hands grasp his ankles, then pull his trousers back up his legs. They stopped at the top of his thighs, and her lips sought out his subsiding cock. With a last quick tug, the trousers were all the way up.
Clive and Lucy moved in close to Ginge, and he reached out until he could put his arms around them. Hugging them close, he found Clive’s cheek, and then Lucy’s forehead to give them each a quick kiss. Letting them go, he found the steps again, and slowly and happily made his way back up stairs.
He was so dizzied and fuzzy from the sex, that he was unsure how many flights of stairs he had to go back up. He stopped on each landing and felt at the inside of the panel, until he found a latch. Pushing the door open, he glanced out into the corridor. Across, and to his right, he could see the strip of light under a bedroom door, impossibly bright after the pitch blackness of the Shaft.
He was certain this was his room, and slipped through the door. It clicked closed behind him as he pressed his body back against it. Only when he had crossed to the light, and found the door handle, did he have any doubts. Was he sure he was on the correct floor? There was only one way to tell.
Ginge twisted the handle, and opened the door. Stepping inside, he was blinded by the relative brilliance of the bedside lamp, and couldn’t see if there was anyone else in the room. There were no screams or curses, so he was confident he was by himself, and in his own room.
Crossing the floor to the bed, he shed his trousers. The copy of The Prawn was exactly where he had left it. He wondered whether the story he had been reading might mention the place where had just had his little adventure. He might find out tomorrow. For now he had to sleep.