I had fallen in love with the island when I was a child of eight; lying just off the coast of Cape Cod. I always thought it had been named after me; that’s what my mother told me anyway. I know it wasn’t true, but it just felt like it was. As a family, we spent our holidays on the island and I remember it as the place where I conceived Jason, my son.

As far as the family were concerned, we were late developers, too late really, as it turned out. My husband, Joshua, at the tender age of fifty-one, was unfortunately caught up in a fishing accident while on the island. It was the worst holiday of our lives. I was left distraught and it seemed Jason was too. He became withdrawn, shy and timid. Not unsurprising for a child that had just lost his father and was not one to join in with sports or any social event.

So, when the opportunity arrived to buy a property on the island, I jumped at it. I was forty-five and Jason was sixteen. I thought it would do him the world of good, start afresh and slowly push all those sad memories to one side. It would be a change for the better and I would be the proud owner of one of the gingerbread houses in Oak Bluffs. It was a drab black and white frontage on the outside, not like the more extravagant and colourful ones in the immediate vicinity, ranging from bright pinks to gaudy oranges and green. The more conservative ones were warm browns and creams and pastel shades of blue. Many of them showing elaborate signs of patriotism; flags waving proudly in the wind.

The estate agent was over the moon when I told him I would buy it and was forever telling me that I had made a good choice. I didn’t know at the time, but it had been on and off the market for over a year.

We moved in. There was a basement which was large enough to take most of the boxes that I would sort through later; boxes of memories and things we hardly used. A lot of it Joshua’s that I couldn’t bring myself to throw away.

We made it our home. Jason started school and within six months he was a changed person. He had a friend; two in fact. I was happy for him. I had made friends with many of the locals and despite their friendliness, there was an air of caution that came with it; like they were holding me at arm’s length for some reason.

One of them, a lady in her seventies, just blurted it out while we chatted on her veranda as I was walking back from the shops with two brown paper bags full of groceries. I had mentioned, casually, of course, the standoff I thought I was receiving from them.

“The reason is, my dear,” she started, “is that they don’t think you’ll be here that long.”

I tilted my head to one side. A puzzled look on my face. I had only been here four months, why would they think that?

Her smile let nothing slip.

“Well, I like it here and so does Jason. So, I think we’ll be staying awhile.”

“I hope you do; I really hope you do.”

I hope I do too, I thought.

That evening something put a broad and warm smile across my face. Jason had asked for his baseball glove and ball. I looked at him. I wanted to ask why? But I think I knew why, and I was glad that he was taking an interest in sports.

He hadn’t touched that glove and ball since Joshua died, nearly three years now. I remember when he and his father used to play in front of the house, practising as Joshua had told him, for when he was going to be the next star of the Boston Red Sox team. Father and son were a happy team, just the two of them. I often used to sit and watch them from the veranda before offering a beer and lemonade to the weary team.

Those memories were still vivid. I could still see the red and white colours of their shirts and the flushed and sweaty brow of Joshua.

“I think it’s in the basement, I’ll fetch it later.”

After dinner, I had changed into a one-piece dress with little on underneath and settled down to watch a couple of hours of trashy TV before heading off to bed.

“Mom, you promised,” Jason whined, looking at me settling in for a night of TV.

I nodded and as promised, I opened the basement door and switched on the light. Nothing. I switched it off and on again and still nothing, though there was a faint glow of orange-red caressing the bannister where the stairs made a ninety-degree turn down to the basement.

I started to move forward, all the while racking my brain as to which box contained the baseball glove? What label had I used? How many boxes would I have to move to find it?

As I rounded the corner, I could see that the main light had blown and a smaller one, hidden behind boxes piled five high, with more clothes piled on top of them was doing very little to help me see. Jason’s old red comfort blanket was providing the coloured glow. I contemplated retracing my steps to find the torch and a new bulb, but by that time I could see well enough and I had a rough idea where the glove would be.

I moved a few boxes, pushing them to one side to reach in behind a third one. My hand immediately fell through the box when I put pressure on the cardboard lid.

My hand touched something fluffy and soft. I jumped. A sudden scream left my mouth, my hands came up to my face and I screamed once more. Stepping back quickly from the thing that moved. An animal perhaps? Rat or some other rodent? The box shook and made a sound and I found myself panting hard. I was on the verge of running back up the stairs. With hands trembling, I nudged the box. Nothing happened. I kicked it with my foot and still, nothing came out of it. I slowly peeled the cardboard off the top, side by side, waiting for something to jump out and scare the living daylights out of me. Nothing did.

In the dim light, I could see a green towel, something it contained was shaking and sliding out of it towards the bottom of the box.

I jumped when something fell with a loud thump onto the bottom. A low pitch buzzing sound started to rattle and shake the box. I opened the third lid, hoping there were no rattlesnakes on the island.

I let out a reassuring sigh as I put my hand in, pulled out the snake and switched it off.

It had been a while since I had used that, I thought to myself.

I wrapped the vibrator in the towel and placed it back in the box. I stared at it for some time before retrieving it and placing it to one side. Perhaps the time for grieving had come to an end and with a smile on my face, I decided to take it with me when I had found Jason’s baseball glove.

I had to admit, my pussy moistened at the sight of it and the feel of it in my hands made me anticipate using it. I wasn’t going to deny myself anymore, though, taking up the offers that a few of the residents had put my way would be a little too soon.

I pushed two more boxes to one side and bent over at the waist to reach into another. I could see the dark brown that I thought was the glove, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I used the box to my left to balance and I finally grasped it in my hand.

The glove fell back in the box as I screamed, loudly. I felt something brush over me, like a hand, caressing my butt and a finger, pushing along my moist sex. I found myself screaming a second time as I felt it – penetrate me. I actually felt it go in.

I fell backwards onto my bottom in shock. My hands came up quickly behind me and I found that I was propelling myself backwards; pushing with both legs against the floor and my arms flailing beside me. My back hit the wall hard and I screamed again. I was panting heavily and my eyes were open wide and scanning the room for the intruder. I saw nothing and all I could hear was the sound of panting.

No, someone was there, someone touched me, I felt it.

“M-o-m, you OK down there?”

“Yes, hun, I’m fine, just stumbled and fell. I’ll be right there.”

My breath was coming faster and faster and my heart rate had maxed out. A thumping in my ear was all I could concentrate on.

“Don’t come down, you stay there,” I added as an afterthought.

I started to reason with myself, I had panicked and fell. Nothing touched me. There was nothing down here. How could there be?

I got up, and walked around the room, carefully looking around boxes; reassuring myself nothing was down here with me. After my tour of the basement, I noticed that I had ripped my one-piece dress to shreds on the concrete floor. One half of the dress lay in pieces hanging over my shoulder and connected by just a few threads.

I hadn’t noticed it before but the tick, tick, tack, tick of the air vent fan blades had caught my attention. A freezing cold breeze had descended on the basement that made my nipples erect and the exposed one was growing rapidly. It was as if the cold air was pinching it tightly. Extending it, drawing it out and pulling on it. The same cold breeze circled my now bare bottom. I couldn’t believe it – but I was becoming aroused.

On the floor, by the crates, I could see Jason’s baseball glove cradling the white ball. I started to bend to pick it up but before I did, I straightened again and looked around me. Nothing was there, I was being stupid. There was nothing down here.

I picked up the glove and ball and gathered up my vibrator wrapped in the green towel with a smile.

Thoughts of Joshua raged through me of the first time he caught me using it. Wasn’t he enough? Didn’t he – do it for me? His first words were of uncertainty, covered by a mass of cloudy thoughts. Then the sun started to shine when I offered him the opportunity to come and help me. The change in his body language was amazing and I knew that his wicked smile would never let me off the hook. He certainly used that dildo on me more than once – and more than once in addition to his own tool as well.

I tucked it under my arm and started to make my way to the stairs. The irony was not lost on me, glove and ball in one hand, dildo in the other.

I was aware that every foot had become harder to make. Every step forward was taking more effort than the previous. I was breathing heavier, the cold sapping my strength bit by bit.

I put one foot on the first step and then it happened.

The air was pushed from my lungs as I exhaled without exhaling. I gasped for air but it wouldn’t come. I fell forward, or was I pushed? I grunted as I dropped both the glove and towel on the floor. Icy blasts of air were issuing from the vent. I could see the cool air descend to the basement floor and head in my direction.

I had slipped and fallen, I told myself. And sure enough, I had stepped on a trailing fragment of my dress and ripped it completely down one side as I placed another step on the stair.

Once more I fell forward and I started to raise myself up only to be pushed forward again. I grabbed the bannister with one hand and pushed up with the other. I didn’t move. Couldn't move.

I felt it. Cold and unsettling.

Whatever it was brushed across my pussy, circled both my thighs and spiralled around my legs to my ankles. Goosebumps erupted all over me. The cold air from the vent had settled on my nipples, making them hard. They were bouncing like jellybeans in front of my eyes. I pushed myself upwards with little to no effect. Again, I felt it against my pussy. No not against – inside. Something was keeping me from straightening. I grasped the bannister for stability while one hand stopped me from falling on the stairs. Something pushed inside me. I wanted to scream. I did scream. Nothing came out. Cold air crystallised everything that came out of my mouth; suffocating my larynx and leaving me uttering a hoarse and raspy Help that did nothing to conjure support.

My eyes suddenly widened and I realised I was being fucked. I screamed once more, but the No and Stop had nowhere to go. Another cry for help left my mouth, but my protests fell silent. I could feel it penetrate me, moving in and out. Warm, not cold like the air that tortured my nipples. The heat of penetration matching that of my own, pushing me forward, urging me towards orgasm.

I could feel my knees buckle, not from the force that held me rigid, but from my own pending climax. The cold air played with my nipples. I was on the verge of climaxing, I could feel my body rhythms pulse and gyrate.

This thing – this thing was making me climax. Taking me.

A cold stab of air played at my anus before it too penetrated me. My senses were heightened; eyes bulging on the edge of climax.

A low resounding voice permeated the room; almost echo-like, a slow and deliberate chuckle – a haunting whisper.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

My ears pricked up, my eyes and mouth opened. I was searching the area in front and to the side for some sign, some meaning. It couldn’t be –

The last time I had heard that phrase was from Joshua, as he pumped his cock into me one evening as I lay prostrate on the bed; every time it went in, he uttered the phrase, with one hand on the small of my back and his other spreading my bottom to one side; the day I must have conceived Jason.

There it was again.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

No, I wasn’t bad, I wasn’t bad at all. I wanted to cry out. My orgasm crashed through me. I shivered and convulsed as the heat of penetration combined with the cold air clamping my nipples and caressing my anus proved too much for me.

“I’m not bad, I’m not bad,” I shouted the words out. They boomed and resounded in the small room.

Collapsing on the stairs, I sobbed yet knew that I had been freed.

“Mom?” Came a cry from above me, from just around the corner at the top of the stairs.

“Don’t come down hun,” I shouted, “get me a large towel leave it by the stairs. It’s very dusty down here,” I lied.

I heard Jason’s steps fade and return. “On top of the stairs,” he shouted.

I caught my breath and gulped in much-needed air. The tick, tick, tack, tick of the air vent had resumed. I quickly grabbed the glove and towel and rounded the corner.

I sat at the top of the stairs, panting. My own fluids were running down my thigh. My nipples felt like they been pinched and squeezed for what seemed like ages. I wrapped my near-naked body in the towel, shut the basement door and ran upstairs.

I sat on the bed, still breathing heavily, those words, Bad Martha, echoing in my mind. I grabbed a new dress, brushed the dust off of Jason’s glove and went downstairs to hand it to him before saying goodnight.

I was scared. The words Bad Martha haunted me. There was no mistaking the orgasm. I had definitely had one for sure, and if I were honest about it, it felt fucking good despite the creepiness.

The next morning, I purchased the biggest lock I could find from the general store, secured the basement door with it and placed the key on a chain which I wore around my neck; nestled between my breasts.

I made Jason promise he would never go down there. Ever!

I, however, wasn’t so sure.

ooOoo

I had put all thoughts of that day in the basement out of my head, though at times I had been troubled by what happened. I tried my best to reason with logic. Convince myself that it was probably the cold air, the dusty atmosphere, finding my vibrator; all of those things put together.

Jason was happy in school and doing well. He started playing baseball with his friend Jack. The smile was back on his face. That made me happy too.

The friends I had made were still talking to me, but I guess, in the back of their minds they were waiting for me to pack up and leave. I had no intention of doing that. I knew I was here to stay.

Five weeks had passed without incident and then it started. Odd things at first, stabbing at my insecurity, making me somewhat scared, yet intrigued.

On more than one occasion, on my way past the basement door, I would hear swishing sounds emanating from inside. My skin would grow cold and I often shivered at the thought of what was happening down there and what did happen down there.

The occasional sleepless night crept into my repertoire; waking in the early hours of the morning with a damp cold sweat breaking out all over my body. I could think of nothing to have caused it. Each time, I would reassure myself that the key was still around my neck; out of harm’s way.

I did start playing with my vibrator though. In all honesty, it had been unused for far too long. I always dressed sexily before I slipped under the sheets to play with myself. I even woke Jason once, so strong was the force of my orgasm.

I missed sex. I missed a lot of things; the closeness, the adult banter, the smile of a loved one – but I had Jason to remind me of some of those things. For now, pleasuring myself at night was a welcome introduction back to the world of normality.

Then, normality changed.

One night, I found myself sitting bolt upright, sweating and cold and still wearing the negligee I had slipped into an hour or so before my vibrator had given me a huge orgasm.

The key nestled between my boobs, I didn’t need to check it was there because I could feel the cold emanating from it; freezing my breasts and causing my nipples to harden; thin wisps of cold air tickled my waist. I held it tight, stared at the door to my bedroom and slowly I swung my legs out of bed. Standing, I headed for the door, opened it and proceeded down the corridor in some kind of trance-like state. I checked on Jason as I walked past his room to make sure he was firmly asleep. My eyes concentrated on the middle distance as I put one foot in front of the other.

I shivered as I stood outside the door to the basement. I took the key from around my neck. The door rustled and shook in anticipation. My body shivered with excitement. I could feel goosebumps form all over me, but especially around my nipples and breasts. I felt so horny and sexy – like I was entering the devil’s den.

Something in the back of my mind told me to walk away, but my body refused. My hand opened the door and it swung open.

I started walking down the stairs. With every step, I grew more and more aroused. By the time I heard the tick, tick, tack, tick of the air vent I was positively dripping wet. I had never felt so aroused – like I was going to have sex for the very first time. I felt the sweep of air caress my breasts; cup and hold them for a split second.

The lingerie did nothing to hide my high state of arousal. Extra cold air started to seep from the vent and the fan directed it to my body. It engulfed me. My nipples extended, huge and erect and needing to be tweaked.

You need this.

I looked around me. Something spoke. It was right, I did need this. It had been so long. Too long.

I turned around to look about me in the dimly lit room. I found nothing of interest, yet I couldn’t walk away. I lowered myself to the floor and while on my hands and knees I spread my legs wide and lowered my hands so that my forehead was touching the concrete.

The cold air whipped itself into a frenzy between my open legs. Lapping and licking at my open lips that were so rudely pointing upwards waiting for it to take me. My breathing laboured and I remained as still as I could for what seemed like ages.

It took its time, but I felt it. I felt it tickle my bottom, scrape along my bum cleavage and then I felt it push my lips apart, slide inside me, intrude me, fuck me. Yes, it started to fuck me. I felt my pussy suck up this thing and I wanted it so much.

What are you?

Again it spoke, and I knew the answer that it wanted. I told it who I was and probably, between the lines, what I wanted.

“Bad Martha…”

I heard a snigger or was that the fan making a curious intermittent noise.

My pussy felt full; a pumping rhythm that I hadn’t felt in ages. I let it fuck me, submitting to it. I leaned forward and let my heavy breasts brush against the cold floor. My nipples ached and scraped on the concrete, exciting them, and me, even further.

I started to gasp aloud and push my bottom back towards it, though I knew I didn’t need to. The pressure was intense, fulfilling as if a large cock was fucking me. The cold air circulated around my bottom before I felt it caress my breasts, making my nipples ache with pleasure. My mind was swirling with all kinds of thoughts. I could feel my body respond. I could feel my orgasm build. I had abandoned my body to this – this thing.

I closed my legs and lay flat on the floor. Still, the penetration was intense. Fucking into me.

And then I felt it. Cold air swirled around my bottom cupping my right cheek in an attempt to prise it open. Cold air pressed down hard on the small of my back like hands of steel and then I heard those words.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

“Yes,” I replied, “Bad Martha.”

I gasped and smiled at the same time. My climax was building rapidly, I could feel it.

My mind was telling me that my cunt was full. Yet, those words were telling me I needed more. I felt it slide into me and fill me and then I heard it again.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

Again, it fucked into me, and again those words.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

“Fuck me hard, fuck Bad Martha!” I shouted into the air while I squirmed on the floor.

My nipples brushed against the cold concrete and were fully erect and excited. I was excited. I was coming so hard with every stroke. My pussy filled to overflowing and then my orgasm started to bite. The cold air circulating my anus brought it on so quickly.

I pushed my bottom upwards but had no intention of moving too far.

B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a, B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a

“Yes,” I replied, “so fucking bad. Now fuck me.”

The sudden downward force and the fact that my cunt was full to overflowing crystallised my orgasm.

I came suddenly. My legs shook, my thighs trembled, my lungs panting and in desperate need of more air, my hands outstretched, palms touching the far wall and my breasts squashed to the floor with my aching nipples attempting direct penetration of the concrete.

I was taken, completely taken and utterly satisfied.

My pussy erupted and I squirted over the floor. Something I had never done before. I was panting heavily as my own copious fluids seeped into the hem of my negligee.

I passed out.

I came to a couple of hours later. Shaking my head, I realised that I had passed out in my very own, purpose-made, wet spot.

The room was still cold and the tick, tick, tack, tick of the fan made me aware of where I was. I pushed myself up and looked down at the mess. The air was cooler than mild and the icy blasts had vanished.

I struggled to make sense of it all. Those words were – real. The penetration and orgasm were – real. The evidence was soaking into my negligee.

I started to question whether it was something I did to myself or whether –

Then it occurred to me, it was the ninth of October. It was the day I lost Joshua, four years ago to the very day.

I suddenly became cold. My lips quivered. I shook my head. I shivered uncontrollably.

ooOoo

Two days later I was walking back from the shops and stopped at Mrs Adam’s house on the way, the seventy-two-year-old I spoke with a few weeks earlier. The one, who I now know, warned me. We chatted and made polite conversation but then she grinned at me.

“Met it yet?”

I shook my head.

“Met what?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she replied, making light of her earlier comment.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you then,” I replied.

I turned just in time to hide the broad smile that was developing on my lips.

Yes, I had met it, I thought.

But it wasn’t an it to me, it was Joshua. He had found his own home and had somehow called to me.

I put the groceries down on the counter and quietly fondled the key nestling between my breasts. My nipples immediately became erect at the thoughts racing through my head.

After Jason and I ate dinner and Jason had completed his homework, I quickly pushed him off to bed. He was a good boy, always had been. That night, I got into bed dressed for sex. I fondled my vibrator and slipped it into me, briefly.

I must have nodded off because I remember waking with a start and realising it was already two o’clock in the morning. I was late for my date. I hurried out of my bedroom and waited at the basement door. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could feel my pussy pulse, its heat warming me. My nipples were hard and I slowly pushed the key into the lock and twisted it.

The words, B-a-d M-a-r-t-h-a, rung out.

I couldn’t wait to get fucked.