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American Gothic

Date: 9/17/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Blowjob, Cheating, Consensual Sex, First Time, Gothic, Horror, Male/Female, Mind Control, Monster, Murder, Author: BlackRonin, Rating: 0, Source: sexstories.com

exactly. Tired, perhaps. As he cruised to a stop he saw a tall, well-dressed man at the foot of the drive, apparently waiting for them. He was blond and gray-eyed and much too young to be Devanie's father. She leapt from the still-moving car, threw her arms around the man’s neck and cried, "Uncle Ruthven! I didn't think you were coming." He returned her hug a bit stiffly. "I wouldn't miss my favorite niece's wedding." "Not a wedding quite yet," Charles said, getting out of the car. "Just an engagement party by way of your big family reunion. But I'm mighty pleased to meet you either way. Put her there." Ruthven looked at Charles' hand for a moment longer than most men would and then shook it. His palm felt slightly damp, and it tickled. He did not smile, and when Charles looked into Ruthven's watery gray eyes he felt his own smile flicker. "Uncle Ruthven spends most of his time in Europe," Devanie said. "None of us have seen him in ages." "Pleased to meet you," Charles said again. “Couldn't be more pleased." “I’m sure I am as well. How did you find the drive?” “It was exactly as long as it needed to be, and then it stopped.” Ruthven didn’t laugh. He had the look of a person whose entire face might break if he so much as chuckled. Charles gathered the bags and all three went into the old, dark house, where Devanie tossed her hands in the air and actually jumped for joy as she cried "I'm home!" The family manor was every bit as brooding a thing on the inside as the out. It was ... tidy enough, but things seemed oddly shaped. There were more portraits of unidentifiable people in antiquated dress than the walls could hold, and Charles detected a sour smell, like a coat liberated from the closet after too many years of disuse. A short, plump woman with wiry hair and a spotted apron ran in from the kitchen and hugged and kissed Devanie to bits, and the two women cooed over each other like turtledoves for a full minute before Devanie introduced Charles to her mother. Mrs. Darcie looked so warm and pleasant that Charles couldn‘t think of anything except an apple pie cooling on a windowsill. "Just look at you," Mrs. Darcie said, beaming. "What a man Devanie found." "Isn't he?" Devanie said, clutching his arm. Charles stroked his mustache. "You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Darcie," he said. Which was true enough--the house and the grounds were certainly beautiful, albeit in a strange way. Like those museum paintings he never understood that made him faintly nervous. "Devanie talks about almost nothing except all of you. If I didn't drive her on down here for this big family reunion she'd probably have burst. I've surely been looking forward to it too." In came another tall, thin man, like Ruthven but much older, with a high forehead and steely hair. He walked with a cane, wore dark glasses, and Mrs. Darcie guided him and directed his hand to Charles. This, of course, was Mr. Darcie. Devanie had warned him to accommodate her father's blindness but not to mention ...