0 comments/ 19464 views/ 5 favorites The Ghost By: Dstep Bethany knew the "Date" was over and she would never see... Brian? Was that his name? Damn she hated blind dates. So, she knew the date was over and that she would never see Brian again as soon as they turned onto her road. Hell, she knew it was over the moment he laid eyes on her. It was just the way he looked at her. Sure, she was a little chubby, but she was far from fat. And she wasn't a bronze skinned model either, the curse of fair skin goes with the territory of being a red head. After all, wasn't it her father that told her that God thought she was so special that he gave more of her. Of course, father's are supposed to say things like that. That comes with the territory of being a father. They pulled into the drive, and Brian threw the car into reverse. A definite indication that the night was over. "Well, I had a good time tonight," She said looking to him and seeing only his silhouette. "Yeah," he answered back. Okay, so he didn't like her. No big deal. At least she still had her dignity. Bethany looked to the house, then turned back to Brian. "You know," she heard herself saying before she could stop herself. "I will have sex with you if you come in." Dignity gone. Brian gave a small giggle and finally turned to her. "Thanks, but I'm good." Bethany was out of the car as quick as a shot. Fuck grace, she had no dignity left, so what good would grace do her now. Brian was backing out of the drive before Bethany could completely close the door. "Nice going slut," Bethany said digging her keys out of her pocket. Two minutes later, Bethany was in the shower. Screw the ritual of turning on the lights and getting clothes to put on after the shower. She felt enough like a loser as it was. Here it was, Friday night, and she was home before 9:00. Just think what the neighbors would say if they knew she was home already. She stood there naked, relaxing as the hot water beat against her body. The shampoo in her hair flowed down the curve of her back, forking at her buttocks so the suds ran around the curve of her ass. Just as she stepped forward to rinse the shampoo out of her hair, she heard the creaking of the bathroom door opening. She stood there a moment listening before finally pushing the curtain aside. And there it was. An empty bathroom. The door still closed. "You're losing it," she said laughing at herself. Once out of the shower, Bethany had gone straight up stairs to her bedroom and to bed. Two hours later, she still lay there on her back, naked as the day she was born and watching television. It was late and there was nothing on, so she had a tape playing. It was your typical girl finds boy, girl loses boy, boy makes things right, and they live happily ever after. Not exactly the kind of movie to watch after the shitty date she had tonight, but at the same time, it gave her a little light of hope. Hope that a girl like her could find love in this world of looks and cosmetic surgery. And so, there she lay, her large breasts slightly sagging apart, her pooching belly curving just below her line of vision, and her feet split so they wouldn't obscure her view of the television. Her right arm rest on her chest between her breast and her hand rested just above her left breast. Her left hand lay on her left hip, holding the remote aimed at the television. On the television, the star and starlet of the movie were sharing a long passionate kiss. Bethany felt her heart race. Then the neatly trimmed patch between her legs started to throb. This wasn't the first time she had felt that throb. She knew exactly what that meant. And as much as she hated it, she knew what she had to do. Women have needs to, just the same as men. And what made things even worse was the fact that Bethany had a very high sex drive, and no man to take care of her "needs". Slowly, and without her really knowing it was doing it, her left hand slid across her hip to her throbbing crotch. She was too engrossed in the movie to notice anything until her middle finger was buried between the folds of her, in all crudeness, pussy. She moaned as the tip over her finger rubbed up and down her clit. Meanwhile, her right hand had crept down to the nipple of her left breast and gave it a light pinch. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as her middle finger massaged the hot moist slit between her legs. It finally found what it was looking for and slowly slid inside her. Her buttocks tightened and her back arched as she let out a loud sigh. Her breathing got heavier and her moans louder as a second finger joined the middle finger in its exploration. She squeezed her breast harder and her fingers began to move quicker as she worked herself closer to orgasm. Once she felt the shivers that signaled that she was getting closer to that magical moment, she did the one thing that very few women could do. She lifted her left breast and sucked on her own nipple. Oh the joys of large breasts. She ran her tongue over the nipple and lightly bit down, intensifying the sensation she was feeling until finally, the quake of orgasm overtook her. This one was no different then the others. She felt relieved, but it would have been so much better if there was a man with her. Spent, Bethany moved both of her hands to her belly and closed her eyes. It was only moments before sleep overtook her. The sounds from the television brought on romantic and sweet dreams of things she knew she would never have. Love and true happiness. There was a presence in Bethany's house unfelt and unseen, but there all the same. It was a man who had lived the same fate that Bethany was now living. His existence had been lonely and sad, and now in death the loneliness and sadness only increased, and he hated for any one to go through life the way he did. The presence stood at the foot of her stairs looking up to the only two doors on the second floor. One door was shut and the presence knew that one led to an empty spare bedroom. The open door on the other hand led to Bethany's bedroom. All was quiet on the second floor, but there was a blue light emitting from the open door. Slowly, the presence drifted up the stairs to the opened door. When it reached the door, it went in and watched Bethany sleeping from the foot of the bed. The blue light was coming from the television. The tape had stopped, and was replaced with a blue screen, bathing Bethany in an eerie blue glow. Bethany was now on her belly, her right leg bent, turning her lower half into an angular P. Her arms were up under her pillow, hidden from the world. The presence stared at her in all of her naked glory and only saw her as a beautiful woman who was alone and sad. Just as he had once been. In the air, it could smell the remains of the act she had performed on herself hours ago and it was aroused. With hands that were no longer there, the presence gently caressed her right foot and slowly moved it down to lay next to her left foot. The presence caressed and gently massaged both feet with it's nonexistent hands. Bethany moaned quietly. The presence looked up to her face. Her eyes were still closed. Slowly, the presence knelt and softly kissed the bottom of her toes. Bethany moaned once again, but didn't stir. The presence lightly kissed all ten of her toes before moving up the soles of both feet. Bethany's moans became louder, but she still didn't stir. The presence continued to plant soft lovers kisses on the back of each leg, making sure it got every inch from ankle to knee, then it continued up her upper legs with the same gentleness. When it reached the top of her legs, it ran a tongue that could no longer taste over the lower curve of her buttocks, then slowly up the crack between each cheek. As it ran it's tongue back down her crack, it made the tongue as hard as it could and ran it inside the crack until it reached her anus. The presence then placed it's erect penis on the curve of her foot and moved it up and down her foot. The sensation the presence felt was like nothing it had ever felt in life. It's tongue which had lingered up and down Bethany's anus now disappeared and the presence opened it's mouth wide and engulfed as much of her that it could. The nonexistent right hand now slid between her legs and cupped her crotch, it's thumb rubbing the clit with a gentleness only it could muster. Bethany, deep in sleep, moaned loudly and moved her hips back and forth with the movement of the thumb and the tongue swelling and relaxing against her relaxed anus. In an explosion of ecstacy, Bethany and presence orgasmed at the same moment. If it had still been alive, there would have been a sticky mess at her feet, the plus side of death. The presence then backed away from Bethany and looked over her with guilty pleasure. It suddenly felt that was the wrong thing to do, but it was too late now. The presence faded from existence feeling guilty and pleased at the same time. The next morning, Bethany woke up feeling a satisfaction she had never felt before. She had masturbated before, but had never awoke feeling this good. Maybe it had something to do with the vivid dream she had last night, or maybe it was the fact that Carrie was coming to spend three days with her. That had to be it. It had been three years since Carrie had gone off to college and she missed her so much. They talked over the phone at least once a week, but talking over the phone was nothing compared to being together. Bethany got out of bed, dressed and waited for Carrie to pull into her drive. Carrie arrived at Bethany's just after three in the afternoon. Bethany was watching out the window for her the whole day. What else did she have to do? Nothing. Before Carrie was out of the car, Bethany was already out the front door and to the car. As Carrie stood, Bethany wrapped her arms around her in a large hug. Carrie, of course, hugged back. Carrie was a cream colored black woman, and larger then Bethany, but had a quality that men just seemed to love. Carrie always had a man and that drove Bethany crazy, but there was no jealousy there. Bethany had too much love for her best friend to be jealous. Sure they joked about it, but it was all in fun. Carrie pulled back from Bethany and smiled widely at her. "God I've missed you." "I've missed you too," Bethany beamed back. Carrie and Bethany let each other go and Carrie closed the car door and stepped back to the trunk. She opened the trunk and Bethany grabbed one of the two bags from the trunk. "So how have you been?" Carrie asked as they walked to the front door of the house. "Fine, how about you?" "Stressed. College is a lot harder then I thought." "Then maybe you shouldn't go back," Bethany said with a laugh. "I would love not to," Carrie laughed back as the two walked through the door. Bethany and Carrie spent the next three hours sitting on the couch in the living room catching up. The television was on, but it was only background noise. They had no idea what was even on the television. Then the conversation came around to the subject Bethany knew would turn to and felt more then a little nervous about. Men. "So, I have to know. Is there a man in your life yet?" Carrie asked. "Let's change the subject," Bethany answered. "I take that as a no," Carrie said. "No I don't have a man. And if you don't mind, I'd like to change the subject." "Fine," Carrie said with a smile. There was silence for the first time since Carrie had come through the door. It was Bethany who finally broke it. "If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it secret?" Bethany asked, her cheeks turning red and hot. She had to tell some one about the dream last night and who better then her best friend. No one. "Sure," Carrie said with a wide grin. "Is it juicy?" "You could say that," Bethany said turning redder. Then more silence. "Well get on with it," Carrie said impatiently. "Okay," she said and took a deep breath. "Last night I had this dream, but it felt so real." "A dream, damn I thought you were going to tell me about a sexual adventure." "Well, this is. In a way." Bethany told Carrie about what she thought was a dream in vivid detail. It took her fifteen minutes to tell her all of it. When she was finished, Carrie just sat there. "Well," Bethany said. "Aren't you going to say anything?" "What am I suppose to say?" "I don't know," Bethany said. "Something, anything." "I'm actually at a loss for words. I mean in all the things I've done, which is a lot, I've never done that." "I never have either," Bethany said. She had had sex before, but the men she had been with were more then just a little boring in bed. "And I never thought I would either, but there was just something about it that felt better then anything I've ever felt before." "Holy shit," Carrie laughed. "You're into anal pleasures." "Am not," Bethany laughed back and picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at Carrie, hitting her in the face. Carrie laughed and the two had a pillow fight on the couch. That night, Bethany and Carrie slept slumber party style. They lay a blanket on the floor and slept on top of it. Around 12:00, they put on night shirts, and finally fell asleep around 3 in the morning. An hour and a half later, Carrie woke up. They had left the television on and the screen had turned blue, giving Carrie just enough light to see the mess they had made in the living room and Bethany lying next to her. Bethany lay on her stomach with her back to Carrie. Her left leg brought up to make the angular P again, only backwards. Bethany must have gotten hot because she had pushed the blanket they were sleeping under aside. Her night shirt had hiked up around her belly, and her panties were bunched up in the crack of her buttocks. Carrie's heart began to race at the sight of Bethany's cream colored thighs and buttocks. Never in her life had she felt an attraction to another female, but for some reason she wanted nothing more then to do what the man in Bethany's dream had done. Carrie tried to turn away, but a voice soft and soothing began to speak in her ear. "You want her don't you?" the voice asked. "No," Carrie said defensively. "She's a woman. I don't swing that way." "You can't lie to me," the voice whispered back. "I know your feelings more then you know." "But.." "But nothing. If you want her so bad, then take her." The voice was silent a moment as Carrie thought it over. "But what if she wakes up? She'll never be my friend again." "What if she does and wants more?" What if she did? Would Carrie be willing to give up men for Bethany? Would Bethany even talk to her afterwards? There was only one way to find out. Carrie leaned forward and slowly tugged Bethany's panties down until they were off. Carrie laid them beside the blanket, taking a moment to sniff the crotch of them. Carrie felt a little weird doing so, but Bethany's scent was sweet and aroused her curiosity more. "That's it," the voice whispered. "Do as you will." Carrie hovered over Bethany's buttocks, staring and caressing them with the hands and eyes of a lover. Bethany moaned, but didn't offer to wake. Carrie's already quickened heart rate doubled as she lowered her head and placed the first loving kiss on Bethany's right butt cheek. The skin was soft and smooth, as she had expected, but also a little sweet, which surprised her. This was all so new to her, and she wanted more. She hungrily went straight for Bethany's anus and gently massaged it with her tongue. She could feel Bethany moving with her tongue, and moaning loudly. This only aroused Carrie more and more. "Do as you will," the voice kept whispering in her ear. Crazed with passion and the new sensation she was now feeling, She didn't realize what she was doing until she was already doing it. Carrie had raised from Bethany's creamy white ass and she had lifted her own night shirt over her head. In a flash, her panties were lying next to Bethany's. With her left hand, Carrie spread Bethany's cheeks revealing everything hidden from the light of day, and with her right, she had spread open her own crotch revealing the pink wet skin inside. She watched in anticipation as she placed her clit against Bethany's anus. A shutter ran up her spine. When she became aware of what was going on, she started to pull away, but stopped when the voice whispered into her ear again. "Your head tells you this is wrong doesn't it?" "Yes," Carrie answered, her voice shaky from ecstacy. "What does your heart say?" Carrie took a moment to search her heart. "That this is what I've wanted all my life." "Then why stop?" She didn't. Carrie pressed her waist against Bethany, knowing this would wake her. Bethany slept and let herself be taken. The more Carrie pressed, the more prominent the thrust became until Carrie had gotten to her knees, Bethany lifted her hips with her and moved with Carrie. Carrie put her hands on the smooth skin of Bethany's hips as the power of the thrust increased. Suddenly, Carrie felt something slide between her own cheeks and a hand wrapped around her and rested between her breast. "You love her don't you?" Carrie realized that what she felt in her buttocks was a penis. She normally wouldn't allow any one to do this, but it wasn't penetrating her, and it only heightened the pleasure. "Yes," Carrie answered breathing heavily. "Then tell her. Be with her." Carrie and Bethany were now crying in pleasure, but Bethany was still fast asleep. "I can't," she whispered. "Why?" "What if she rejects me?" "She won't" Carrie suddenly felt her body shiver as she closed in towards orgasm. "I can't," she moaned and leaned forward. Her breast now rubbed Bethany's back and Carrie moved her hands from Bethany's hips to her breast. She squeezed them as she and Bethany screamed when they exploded together as they reached orgasm at the same time. Carrie rolled off of Bethany and lay there on her back breathing hard and looking at Bethany who had lowered her hips to the floor and lay there peacefully. Guilt finally overtook her. She knew that no matter what, she could not tell Bethany what she had done tonight. Or any one for that matter. Slowly and shaking, Carrie lowered her night shirt and picked their panties up from the floor. She slowly and gently slid Bethany's back on her, then her own. With that done, she covered herself again and fought back the tears as her mind flashed what had just happened. She felt it was wrong, but at the same time she felt that what she had done was what she wanted, what they had both always wanted but were to afraid to say so to each other. Finally, sleep overtook her and she dreamt sweet dreams of love and happiness with the most unlikely person. Bethany. That morning, Carrie woke up to find that Bethany was not lying on the floor next to her. She sat up and rubbed her eyes and looked again. Still no Bethany. Her first thought was that Bethany knew what she had done last night, and she had left. But then she remembered that this was Bethany's house. Why would she leave her own house. Then the Bathroom door opened. Carrie looked across the dining room into the kitchen to see Bethany walk out of the bathroom dressed and fresh out of a shower. Carrie smiled. She didn't know. "Good morning," Bethany beamed across the dining room at her. "Morning," Carrie smiled back. She thought Bethany was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in the light shining in through the windows. She quickly pushed that thought away as soon as it crept into her mind. She was not a lesbian and never would be, so there no place for those thoughts in her head. But what about last night? The Ghost He looked at her, she felt attraction to him, and It was as though there had been a spell cast upon her, by him. She walked towards him. He smiled, Drew her up in his huge arms, brought her face to his bearded face, his nose was strong, his eyes were silver as putrid silver. His eyebrows were bushy. Barrel chested, His abdominals was most assuredly muscular. He drew her in to kiss her sensually. He cautiously slipped his tongue into it dance playfully with hers. She countered each movement. She wondered how it would feel to have it upon her cunt. She often desired to have her husband do this. However he did have her eat him. His was tiny. His hand slipped beneath her waist to slip across her curved and large ass cheeks. She gasped, "No!" As it inched into the crevice where her hole was. She tried to shift it about to avoid his fingers from going there. The looked to be gigantic, and they felt that way as they crept through the canyon. They were not too long in anyplace. His fingers found her black star, they sunk into it. She tried to cause him to stop,. but it brought her to a new height in her sexual awareness. She gyrated her hips to allow it to sink in there. She slipped her hands down his muscular form to stop at his cock. Slowly played with it. Fondling it, slipping across his curly hair,. Fondle it seeking to find his balls and cock. It was not awakened yet. She would have to see about that. She would. She fondled it, raced about its length. She slipped out of his arms grasp, so she could put it on her tits, his hands flew to her large tits. He slipped and slithered across them as water running in a brook would. He swept across her nipples, to cause them to become erect. They were a soft rosette in color. She gasped as they began their ascent. His fingers flew having nothing else to do, but play with her nipples. Sge wanted them to crush her nipples. She still had her other hand on his cock. She felt it stir. It was growing long and it was also growing in rigidity. It was the span of her two hands in length, and almost one in width, she was impressed. With it becoming this size. She wanted to urge him further to have him make amore to her. She spread her legs so as that he could enter her if he wished too. However he dropped to his knees sent his pink devil and his fingers to play upon her as she lay there. He licked and kissed her boobs as his hands played upon her mound. They darted here and there slipped to the V. coaxing her clit to awaken. With desire of its own. It tore upwards, rising with such urgency that it could not be denied. She whimpered, and moaned He brought his cock towards her mouth, so, his face to her sparsely furred tunnel, raised her red lips to touch his cock . His tongue touched her clit for it to touch and torment her; skated across it, and surround it . She tried to simulate what he was doing to her. She slowly gave in to eat his cock. Her tongue slipped and slid across its expanse. No way, she was going to take it all in. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, as she reached orgasm and poured with her cream. He came up for air. He was still erect. She saw he was. She stroked his scrotum and balls that were the size of a hard ball, with her hands and tongue. To calm his desire. He asked, "Should I enter you?" She wept as she said, "Yes! Oh! Yes! Please!" He smiled at her as she then allowed him to slid into her canal of love. Her cunt could not have been possibly able to accept his. However it was ready as it would ever be. The cock slid upon the pink channel. Ever so Slowly it sank, to its length. She was gasping, her chest was heaving. Her mound trembled and shook with anticipation of its arrival there. She felt her lungs grow in need of air. Taking her breath away. She was without air to breath, it took her breath away. Centimeter by centimeter it sank. The walls of her cunt expanded to allow it inside of her they seemed to have expanded so, much so as nothing else would with his huge rigid hard cock, it felt as though it had tore through her cunt to fill butt canal with it. The Ghost and Bridget Hi All, This is my second submission of this story. The first, for all the proof reads, among other issues had many spelling mistakes and even I found it difficult to read and I wrote it. I hope this one finds less errors. Not much in the way of character changes but perhaps explains a little more. This was supposed to be a short bit of fluff but it went a little longer than planned. This is stuffed with sexual encounters of both the physical and paranormal kind. It's all for fun and pure fantasy. The Ghost and Bridget by Sarin Dipity. The first time Bridget seemed to sense Derek was at the bar. Joy danced through him as she turned to face him. It quickly turned to disappointment as she looked right through him. She always did. He didn't know what he was expecting. Why this time would be different from the others. Still, for a moment, there was irrational hope. He continued to watch her, longingly. He knew she was considered only pretty by most of the men, but to him she was beautiful. He'd even danced with her once in this very bar. Now, she didn't see him at all. Of course it could be that he was dead. Dead. He still had a hard time believing it. He was still walking around people and objects, even though he could pass right through them. What really amazed him, was that dying hadn't been as difficult as he always thought it would be. One minute he was riding his dirt bike around the hills and discovered a large drop. He remembered cursing as he went over it. The next thing he knew was intense pain and then he was standing at the bottom of said drop, remarkably unhurt. He hadn't seen any light. No long tunnel. It didn't take him very long to realize that not only did he not feel any injuries, but he felt nothing at all. The wind that whipped the desert grasses blew right through him without any resistance. Of course, the mangled body that looked just like him, lying on the ground when he turned around, was the main clue. All in all, it wasn't so bad. He could go and do whatever he wanted. He found that he could even move things if he put his mind to it. He couldn't actually feel what he was picking up, but the effect was the same. He always chuckled at the faces of the people who saw him practicing. Today he went to the bar, hoping to see her. It all looked the same. Everyone acted normal. Of course, they were alive. He saw Bridget sitting at the bar and moved closer. She didn't frequent the bar a lot, but when she did come in, she always sat in the same seat. He knew this because he'd worked here as a glass washer. He'd watched her get drunk one evening and had worked up the courage to ask her to dance while he was on brake. He remembered the arousal that coursed through him as she leaned into him during that one dance. Remembered the soft curves he'd held once and never again. He now tried to touch her again a few minutes ago. She'd felt him but he was unable to feel her. She'd looked around, a little weirded out that she felt a hand but no one was around. Now she was waving at Jake, one of the bouncers. The guy was huge...all over. Unless he padded his jeans, but Derek didn't believe that. The bouncer was too confident in all his abilities and he was very popular with the ladies. Derek frowned when Bridget had a silent communication with the bouncer and Jake gave her a ten minute sign. Derek had seen the communication before. Right before the two would disappear during Jake's break. The pattern was about to be followed once again. Derek had an idea what they were doing, and this time he would follow. ________________________________ Bridget looked around when she felt someone touch her back but when she turned, there was no one there. She'd felt like someone had been watching her ever since she walked into the bar. She shrugged away at a shiver that ran down her spine. "Weird." She turned back to the drink she'd ordered, already feeling the alcohol in her system. She usually got drunk when she came to the bar. It wasn't any more than once every few weeks or so but she just needed what she came here for. A good drunk and fuck. She wasn't interested in any attachments. She worked 12 hours a day, almost every day of the week. The last thing she needed was someone complaining that she didn't spend enough time at home playing wet nurse to him. That's what made this arrangement with Jack so sweet. Jack was a handsome, well build hunk. Everything about him was strong and large. She knew she'd never qualify to be his 'girlfriend' even if that's what she wanted, but after getting drunk one horny evening, she'd asked him to do her and he did. Since then, whenever she needed to, she'd give him a nod and he'd meet her for his break. No strings, just a good time behind the bar in the back of his truck. It wasn't romantic, but then she didn't want romance, and he was fine with that also. She nodded to Jake, who signaled that he'd be on break in 10 minutes. She glanced around again, still feeling that she was being watched but couldn't see anyone paying any particular attention to her. She called a cab, because she'd be in no condition to drive, finished her drink and slid off the barstool. She wove through the crowd and to the back door where Jake would meet her. She was lost in the music when he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him so she could feel him hard. "Ready darling?" She smiled and led them out the door. She knew where his truck was parked, so she opened the tailgate herself and crawled in, ducking low under the shell covering the bed. He quickly followed, closing up behind them. No words were spoken at first. They both stripped off their clothes and she pushed Jake back forcefully. He laid out flat and she sucked him into her mouth. There was no kissing, that wasn't what they were there for. She didn't even really look at him as she swallowed him down her throat. "Oh yeah. Suck it hard." He moaned. She complied. Sucking with all she had, pulling from the base of his cock to the fat, purple tip and back down. She rolled his balls between her fingers firmly. Replacing those fingers with her mouth, she rolled them with her tongue as she sucked them forcefully. Her hands now working his shaft, fingers twisting at the sensitive head and slit. He writhed under her ministrations, the skin of his cock stretching tight. She took him again in her mouth, scraping her teeth up and down. Breathing heavily, he handed her condom, which she rolled onto him with a small twisting motion. A groan at the feel of the latex escaped him right before she straddled him. She took the time to direct his swollen head and shaft through her folds and over her clit, until she could wait no longer. They both watched as she lined up and slowly lowered herself down, down... until he was completely sheathed. She let out a soft moan, sure that she felt Jake finger her while she was descending, but when she looked, both his hands were on the outside of her thighs. Dismissing the touch, she stopped, barely moving, savoring his heat buried deep inside. That was the only tender luxury she requested. A slow, intimate decent. That felt , oh, so good. Then a long, quite moment to just feel his fullness inside her. "Talk to me." She whispered, her breath steady. He knew what she wanted to hear. "It feels so good when you suck my thick cock and then go down on it." She closed her eyes and arched her back, her head just missing the roof of the shell. "My big, hard cock, stretching your pussy." She shifted a fraction, her hands over her head, gripping the convenient hand holds he had on the roof. She sucked in a breath, her brows raising slightly at a brush at her nipples. "I can't wait to feel your tits squeezed between my fingers. Pinch your hard nips." Her eyes flew open when a sudden mashing of her nipple shot her straight into an orgasm. She would have cursed if she hadn't been so caught off guard. She contracted and began blindly moving up and down his shaft. His hands went to her hips. "Yes!" She screamed as he began to buck up into her. She rode him, throwing her head back as one of his hands worked down to circle her button, then massaged it roughly. Soon his other hand worked up to her chest and squeezed each of her mounds. He pushed her clit and pinched her nip hard at the same time causing her to buck harder. "Oh shit, yes! Now!" She finally gave him a brief glance. "Fuck me blind!" With that said, he grabbed her hips and rolled forcefully onto her. She cried out as he sunk deeper into her, but instead of the fast thrusting that she had been doing, he started with a slow, deep calculated rhythm. "You like my cock, don't you?" He continued her request to talk to her. "You like it fucking you, slow?" He was sure to press and hold on her clit with each full penetration. She thrust back, gasping for breath. "Answer me." He growled in a low demand, pushing her into the truck bed and holding. All she could get out was a whine from the depths of her ecstasy as she came. "Oh yeah, you do." He lowered his head and latched onto a raised nipple with his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. "Your boobs are so tasty to suck on." He pulled one, then the other with his teeth as she twisted through her orgasm. "Yes!" She finally squeaked out. "Suck them. S....Suck!" He continued to hold himself deep, using his pelvis to massage her clit until her breathing slowed. When it did, her hands pushed up the sides of her breasts so he could have access to more. She squeezed their fullness together firmly. The action appeared to make her nipples stand taller. He began thrusting into her, slowly as he licked at her offering, then taking the very tip of one, bit just enough to pinch and pulled it taut. This made Bridget go insane. " I'm coming again!" Her words careened. She arched, pushing him for more. His pace quickened as he flicked and sucked at the bit between his teeth. "Fu....fu...fu..." Over and over. ______________________________________________ Derek watched in awe from his vantage point at the back of the truck bed. When she had stripped out of her clothes, he'd thought he'd have passed out if he were actually breathing. She looked nothing like the skinny models of the porn movies. Her skin had patches of freckles on her back and parts of her chest. There was a mole on her side. Her thighs and ass, while not flabby, were curvy. Her snatch was neat but not shaven. Her nakedness was overwhelming and he stared, mesmerized. The spell was broken when a large penis popped in front of her. He watched her suck in the incredibly large organ, amazed at her ability to put it so far into her throat. It was soon wet from her mouth. The glisten from the street lights coming through the cap windows made it look like it was it's own entity. It bobbed and swayed as she sucked the base and balls. Her small hands playing with the head. Derek envied that wet shaft, but even if he were alive, he knew he couldn't compete with that monster. He was normal. His dick fit into his own hand comfortably and had room to slide, but nothing like Jakes solid piece. He looked down at himself, willing some kind of reaction to the lust filling the back of the truck. To his amazement, his dick began to rise. His pants were no barrier; they weren't real. "Whoa." He thought more and focused and it rose until it protruded straight out, as if held by a string. He took it in his hand. No feeling on either part. His hands manipulated the shaft but he couldn't feel any physical contact. Still, he knew what it should feel like, so he focused on that. He knew his stomach would be tingling and his cock would crave for more touch. For a moment, he thought he could will the sensations. The past memories were so powerful that he watched his cock grow in his unfeeling hand. And grow. His eyes widened as his cock continued to expand. "Wow!" He glanced at Jakes pulsating cock and when the size of his surpassed that, he willed the appendage to stop growing. He was so amazed with his discovery, he almost didn't notice that she'd straddled Jake and was rubbing him through her warm folds. Derek moved closer to watch the shaft squeeze into the desired hole. He really envied that shaft. He watched the slow descent, the desire to touch her too great. Before she completely seated, he reached out and willed pressure from his fingers. He quickly slid one into the folds and pushed. He couldn't feel her but she let out a moan and he was elated to know that he'd caused it. He continued poking and pushing until the two bodies completed their link. Once the penis was completely encased, there was silence. A long moment of two bodies locked. Jakes eyes were focused on her cunt where he was buried and her eyes were closed, her hands held loosely to the roof handled, giving him a beautiful view of her heaving breasts. Derek took this moment to focus again. Using his finger, he pushed on her nipple. The first time it went through with no effect. He tried again and the pointy nub sank into its ringed circle. He did this three times and on the third try, pushed the hard kernel deep until it pushed against the ribs behind it. With a sudden suck of air, she shifted, raised and began to fuck Jake hard. While she rode Jake, Derek contemplated his own dick size again, wondering if she could take something bigger than Jake. He lifted the shaft and frowned. He's balls were tiny compared to his new length. With a focus that he was finding easier to control, his balls were soon proportionate to the cock. "That's better." The truck rocked when Jake rolled Bridget onto her back. The force of his first on top trust moved her at least half a foot, so she wrapped her legs around his hips to keep from being pushed out from under. "Answer me!" Jake demanded and Derek watched her arch into Jake, her eyes closing hard and her mouth opening wide. Derek went to her face and put the tip of his new cock in her mouth. He focused on enlarging the tip once it was in. It filled her mouth and he stopped. He wasn't sure if she noticed the pressure in her mouth, she was so high on her orgasm. With a sigh, she began to come back to her senses and Jake began sucking her. He pushed her amazing orb up higher and tighter for Jake to access. She was soon having another orgasm. This time Derek just watched her sweat. He took in the whole scene. The nipples, the jiggling boobs, her neck straining as she gasped. Jake grunting, his heavy balls clapping her ass. Derek took his shaft in his hand and stroked. Frustrated at being able to touch but not feel. He knew how he should feel. He focused on memories again. Not the action but how his stomach would flutter, his cock would pulse. He watched Jake's cock push in and out of Bridget. Her tight hole puckering in then out with friction the on his shaft. And then...there was a tickle. Derek paused in his stroking. He focused and willed the tickle to grow. And like his cock, it did. It grew through his whole non-body. The burning intensified as he concentrated on building on what he was feeling and learning. The feeling moved to his groin and he started stroking again. He still could not feel his skin, but his cock was on fire now. His new large cock. He watched it fill as he expected it should. He then tried something that he'd always thought would be fun. Removing his hand, he willed his cock to move. For a moment it fell. Then as he focused, it rose and pointed first one way, then the other. Derek smiled as he got it twirling and then he bent it so it was going out, then up. Then he twisted the up part to point around. "I can do anything!" He watched the couple next to him. Derek's smile grew. __________________________________ "Fu...fu...fu..." Bridget's body was in over drive. Jake had taken her over the edge twice. This last one fried her senses. Jakes steady biting of her nipples held her for a long time. When she finally came down, Jake was still pumping but his thrusts were getting smaller and he'd stopped paying attention to her breasts. His entire goal was to climax. Then he tensed and plunged into Bridget, holding himself tight. She felt his balls contracting as he released, pumping a few times, then holding. He did that a few more times before collapsing onto her. They laid there for a minute, catching their breaths. Then he held her hips and sat back so he was still in her and she was on top again. She rode him for a few minutes while he nuzzled her breasts. "That was amazing, as always." Her comment earned her a smile from between her breasts. "Of course, you cheated when you played with my nips during the feel the fuck time." She flicked one of his nipples playfully. "What?" He muffled around the mound in his mouth. "During the FTF, you played with my nip. The rib rub went right to my cunt." She gave a shove to his lap to he could feel said cunt. He pulled just far enough away from her to look up at her. "Not that I don't want to take credit for setting your pussy on fire, but I didn't touch your boobs. I know how you love the FTF." She looked for any sign of teasing but found him completely honest. "But I felt..." "Wasn't me, babe. How much have you had to drink?" "Not enough to make me hallucinate." She remembered back to the touch. "It was so real." Jake took a finger and tickled just her point. "Like this?" He pushed at her nib, as she watched closely. It was even more intense seeing it. "Yeah." She breathed. Then he pushed in with the finger until the nip was rolled against a rib. His finger deep into her breast. He found a spot and held pressure as she began to squirm and then she began to contract around his limp cock. "Oh yes!" She rubbed against him hard and he continued the pressure, keeping it against the rib. Her orgasm strengthened. "Oh SHIT!" She screamed when another finger mimicked the first on her other nip. She bounced and scratched her nails on him, the speed of going from aroused to coming, throwing her into a frenzy. Jake seemed fascinated at the reaction so he kept going. It was like she couldn't come down. Her legs flailed around him, her backed arched. Even as she arched back toward the floor with him still in her, he kept pushing into her ribs, rolling the nubs over and over. She writhed helplessly as long as he held her. When he let the pressure off, she began to come down. Then he'd push again. She would careen and shoot to another high. It was like a switch. On and off. Eventually, Jake took pity on her. Either that, or it was the end of his break. Either way, he slowly released the pressure, but continued to play with her boobs as she completed her decent. She lay there, spread open and exhausted. Jake sat back, removed the condom and began to clean his cock. "Now that was me. If I had done that during FTF, I wouldn't have stopped." Bridget's chest rose and fell. "But..." Jake shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you have a ghost who likes playing with your tits." He smirked. "A little boy ghost. " He laughed at the thought. _______________________________ Derek laughed also, looking down at his cock. "Not so little any more. Hope you enjoyed this truck fuck cause when I'm done with her, she'll never be back to you. Pee wee." Derek was so excited. He'd learned so much about what he could do tonight. While he followed Bridget's cab home, he experimented with other body parts. Each responded the same as his cock had. He could enlarge, shape, twist, any part he wanted to. It was a little odd at first seeing bends where there shouldn't be but the possibilities made him eager to try things he'd never be able to do as a real, live boy. He kept thinking of the pleasure he could bring when his nose grew. "Just call me Pinocchio." By the time he'd fantasized of all he could do with his new abilities, Bridget was unlocking her door and stumbling inside. She'd drank some more while she waited for the cab, so she as tipsy and exhausted. He watched her kick off her shoes and begin to shed her clothes as she stumble to the bathroom and into the shower. The Ghost and Mrs. Mayer My husband's a computer geek for an offshore drilling company, and that means he's gone for long periods, often weeks. I've learned to adjust to this and I find I'm the one who needs to make important decisions without him. We'd been looking for a house for so long I'd almost given up. The problem was I wanted a large house, something like the Cleavers lived in, and in this day and age even Beaver's family couldn't afford to live in their house. I told George that if I found one I wanted that we could afford I'd buy it even if he didn't get a chance to see it beforehand. The thing about my husband is he usually defers to my judgment on all matters so I wasn't too worried about buying something even as big as a house. I received the call from my realtor on a Monday afternoon, "Mrs. Mayer I may have found the house you're looking for but I have to warn you it does come with some baggage." He told me he wouldn't tell me what was wrong with the house until after I looked at it. It was the house of my dreams, why was this man teasing me; there was no way we could afford this place. "Here's the thing Mrs. Mayer, there was some trouble here and I guess no one wants it so they are willing to take a reduced bid that just might make it in your price range" He went on to tell me of the tragedy that had occurred inside, "Mrs. Harris, a lovely bride of only six months suddenly killed her husband during the night and when trying to kill herself she fell as she pulled the trigger missing her temple. The bullet entered her head to the side and although still alive, she is merely a vegetable with no hope of recovery. They court has ordered the estate sold to help defer her medical bills. You'll notice it remains as it was that fatal day with all of their belongings still inside." The house had everything I'd always wanted, big kitchen with a formal dining room to the side, large den and upstairs were three bedrooms and two baths. Everything was perfect and I bought it on the spot including all of the furnishings. The first night I was alone as usual, I was a bit frightened but yet exhilarated at the same time, the thought of maybe being alone with a ghost sent a sexual charge through me. Of course, I didn't believe in such hooey but when I went to bed, I began a fantasy of being taken by a spirit. Don't get me wrong I love my husband it's just I sometimes wish he were more assertive in our bed. Lately as I sleep alone, I masturbate while I think of pirates or some such ruffian taking me for their pleasure. I awoke in the morning naked; I must have taken my gown off during the night. I was on my back with my limbs stretched to the four corners of the bed and all of the covers were lying on the floor. I was drenched in sweat as were my sheets. I got up to shower and couldn't believe how sore my arms and legs were, I must have put more into moving than I thought. After showering, I went to my closet still full of poor Mrs. Harris' clothes and I found the cutest dress, I swear it looked just like something Mrs. Cleaver would wear. I put it on and it fit perfectly, next I grabbed all of the sweat soaked bed linen and headed for my new laundry room down in the basement. I put them in the tub and as I always do, pulled my panties off and put them in also. That's when I noticed the locked door on the other side of the basement. I had asked the realtor what was inside and he said he had no idea. I remember seeing a key ring on what must have been Mr. Harris' chest of drawers, I ran upstairs and found them. After trying three or four keys, I found the one that worked. I can't really tell you what I thought I might see inside but what I found was beyond belief. Inside was a dungeon, like something I had seen while surfing on the net. What were this couple doing down here? I felt a stirring in my loins as I looked at all of this equipment. I went to something I believed was called a bondage horse, I draped myself over it sticking my feet in the syrups and reaching further over I put my hands in into the stocks provided for them. I guess a gust of wind or something blew my dress up exposing my naked bottom. I lie there thinking how vulnerable I would be if locked up in this machine. My anus and vulva exposed to any and all, as I lie there helpless to stop them from doing as they please. I was imagining some man behind me roughly fingering my openings at the same time and suddenly I was climaxing untouched. I stood up feeling my fluids run down my legs and embarrassed I went out locking the door as I left. I went to work and with so much to catch up due to all the time off I took dealing with my new house I soon forgot about my dungeon. I got home late and to my horror found no power when I got inside me new house. Luckily, I had a small flashlight and when I remembered the breaker box was down in the dungeon made my way to see if I could fix the problem. I again unlocked the door and with the flash light saw the box. Just as I reached out to open the panel, the dungeon door slammed with a bang. I screamed and dropped my flashlight at the same time. I must have fainted because when I came to the lights were back on but I was draped across that blasted horse. I must have tripped first hitting my head and then falling on that horse. It had to be a wind that blew the door shut, I mean, what else could it have been. Then I remembered this morning when the same wind blew my dress up. As soon as I could, I would have to find the source of that breeze and get it repaired. That night as I slept, I had what I could only call orgasmic nightmares of a rough handed man using me for his pleasure. The dream was so real I could still remember the man's face when I woke up. I also remembered his fetid breath as he put his mouth on mine forcing his tongue deep inside while he violated me with his monster penis. Yet with all these vile acts I could only think of the pleasure I received from the liberties he took with me. As I leaned against the wall of my shower letting the hot spray wash away, the memories of my dream I decided I had to quit my swashbuckling fantasies and get on with my real life. My husband surprised me by coming home that very day. He loved the house, as I knew he would but was shocked by the dungeon and said he would clean that room out right away. I decided not to upset him more so I said nothing about my dreams. With all the other things we needed to do, we just never got around to getting down to the basement and so the room sat. Before I knew it, his furlough was over and he was headed back to another sea somewhere. The whole time he was home, I didn't have any strange dreams and to be honest I had missed them. The vanilla sex my husband and I had just couldn't compare with the wild fantasy sex of my dreams. In a strange way I was looking forward to my first night alone and curious as to what might happen. My curiosity was rewarded with another night of wild sexual dreams and I awoke naked, exhausted, and sore. My wrists and ankles were red as if they had been bound. My vagina felt as if someone had violated it with a broomstick. Still with all this discomfort I, felt somehow satisfied almost contented. Was this a ghost or just my vivid imagination? I couldn't tell and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the truth or not. The next night I made up my mind to just relax and enjoy what was happening to me, I even went to bed naked, and I felt exposed. My dreams were surreal as I gave myself to my mystery being as he came to me in a haze. He was forceful, taking what he wanted, as many times as he wanted. I awoke with a start and that was when I realized I wasn't in my bedroom. No, I was in the dungeon and I was strapped into the bondage horse. I began to panic I couldn't free myself and I thought even if someone would come into the room to free me the first thing they would see would be my exposed genitalia. I turned and glanced at the door and that was when I noticed that it not only was closed it was barred from the inside. At this moment I knew what was happening to me was neither a fantasy nor a dream. As I starred at my bound wrists, I knew I couldn't have done this myself. I felt a presence behind me up close against my naked flesh and I realized I was about to be violated once again. I became very frightened yet at the same time I felt my vagina tingle and I could feel my juices trickling down my thigh. I waited with anticipation for his entry inside me but still I felt nothing, what this was thing waiting for. I felt something cold touching my anus and before I realized what was coming it was plunged deep into my bowls. I screamed with pain as I felt I was being ripped apart. It didn't take me long to realize that if I could relax my sphincter the pain was not so bad. I had never had anything inside me back there and to my surprise, I began to enjoy the full feeling. I even began pushing back wanting it deeper inside me. My vagina was on fire and I wished my hands were free so I could give myself some relief. The thing pressed his assault to a fever pitch and I heard myself scream out for more and then suddenly I climaxed and my body went limp. I must have passed out for I woke up suddenly and found myself still draped across the horse but unshackled. I stumbled out the now opened door and upstairs to the bath. As the bathtub filled, I gazed at myself in the mirror and saw what looked like bite marks on my breasts. Upon further examination I saw my body was covered with them especially my vulva and anus. I lay in the tub soaking away the soreness of being strapped across that machine. I knew I had a decision to make. Did I want this monster to leave me alone, or did I want him to stay and use me for his pleasure and mine? I knew the answer when I realized I found myself hoping for my husband to stay away for a while longer. The Ghost I am a ghost. I linger around your life. Sometimes you see me. Usually when you need me. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you touch me. I died several weeks ago. The death was painful. I underestimated the hunger, you see. It was bigger than me. Bigger than what I can hold onto. I was near you, and the hunger -- it wouldn't leave me alone. It taunted me. Tortured me. I tried to control it. I couldn't it. I drank to dull it. It didn't work. I drank more, but all it did was dull my control of it instead. And the hunger took over. I'd fought it for so long. I was tired of fighting. I let it win. I didn't know, even as I surrendered, how very big it was. And the things I dreamed of, the things that in my mind were perfect, were clouded, muddled and messy. If I could fall on my knees and beg for it to be taken back, I would. The kiss I wanted, I dreamed of, should have been left in my mind. I couldn't handle it. Somehow, I always knew I wouldn't be able to. The days that followed were a bloody mess of humiliation and self-loathing, my death pangs. By the end of the dying process, I was wrung out of tears and the moment before my heart burst, the pain was agonizing. But then, blessed peace. Blessed quiet. I never knew how loud my beating heart was until it was gone. And yet I live. I live on. The hunger, though it slept, still stirs. But now I respect it, and know how to handle it. I am a ghost. The hunger keeps my body, my lifeless body, in motion like a puppet master. I float through the night, the chilly air. I don't feel cold. I feel the breeze pass me by as I fly, I float. The moon lights my way. The night is clear. I am a ghost. I haunt you. You sleep. You don't know I am here. I float in the air above you. I look at your sleeping face. I am jealous of your peace. I look at your mouth. Your mouth that has kept me awake for hours, denying me the peace you sleep in blissfully. For my crimes, I need only to show your lips, your mouth, as evidence, and certainly any jury would acquit me for my temporary insanity. I float closer, closer. I see your face move a bit. Your eyelids twitch. You sense my haunting now. I can see it. You breathe in my perfume. My nightgown is pale silk. It feels weightless, like me, floating. I can touch you, because it is just your dream. It is just my haunting. I barely touch your hair, gently, and a faint smile touches your sleeping mouth. I smile too. This is a good dream, my love. Just a dream. I am closer now, my body touches yours, though I am still suspended in air. I touch your face, my mouth near your ear. I whisper to you. I tell you what I want, and you stir. You turn, you let me nearer to your mouth. "Will you let me?" I whisper. You lean your head back, as my hands touch you, touch your body, my mouth nuzzles your ear, your neck, and you turn to look at me now. I see a faint question in your eyes. "It's just a dream...see....see how I float?" I show you my ghost-like weightlessness. The questions in your eyes disappear and you close your eyes again, and I see, much like me before my death, that you've surrendered. Surrendered to me. My hands explore your body as I pull the bed sheets from you, and you turn on your back. I see your mouth, I want it. But after what I've done, I can't bring myself to kiss you. The thought terrifies me. So instead, my mouth again moves to your neck. Your hands find me. Tonight you can see me. You can touch me. "Let me give you what you need," I whisper. "Will you let me?" I whisper. There's really no reason to ask. You already are letting me. You nod in your sleepiness, and your hands stroke my back through my silky nightgown. It is cool to the touch but you feel my warmth, my heat just under it, like the ocean sun on your cool skin after a swim. The silk makes it hard to stop touching me, doesn't it? So soft, so addictive. But don't go too far. This is about what you need. And giving you what you need, that's all I need. All I want. I pull at your clothes. Pull them all away. Your fingers move up to my hair now as my mouth traces your naked skin, and my eyes flutter in pure ecstasy. The purest I have ever known. I feel your fingers coaxing my face to yours. But I can't kiss you, love. I am not worthy. I pull face from your hands. My mouth moves lower. Lower. Your back arches in anticipation. My ghost heart feels joy. It feels reanimated. I shudder with it. My mouth, my hands find you. Find you hard and waiting for me. I hear a soft sigh and know you barely realize you made it. Your hands find my hair again, fingers twisted in it tightly. I slide you into my mouth. This is all I want. All I ever wanted. We can't see it, but our eyes are fluttering in the same way with each of our sensations overwhelming us. My tongue works you, tasting you, my fingers stroking you, my hands holding you, as I slide you in and out of my mouth. The pace, so slow and excruciating, and you don't want this dream to end. You don't want it to stop. Don't worry love, I am here. I am here to give you everything you want. Everything you need. Your hardness on my tongue drives me insane. I give into the hunger and use it for what I want. I control it and give it to you. Slowly, in and out of my hot, wet mouth. Can you feel it? Feel I want this more than you do? Almost. My hips writhe in heat as I slide my mouth up and down, faster, you feel my tongue swirling around you, teasing you, and the pressure of my lips around you, all the way down. As far as you can go inside my mouth. And then all the way back up again. My tongue teasing you, licking you, before I slide you deep inside my mouth again. Just a little faster. You sigh again. It drives me harder. Hotter. I pull my mouth away, and with my body, I press against you, and you are so hard. Starting from my neck, I shimmy my silk-covered body over you, stroking you with it, between my warm breasts, pushing you there, and your hands make fists in your bed sheets. I move up, stroking you, warm and silky, and then take the bottom of my nightgown, wrapping you in it with my hand, and stroke you with my hand, up and down, through the slippery silk. Faster than my mouth. The sensation drives your back up, head back, and my hand, hot and fast, through the silk, almost getting you there. I can see it, and your eyes open now, and you watch me. I love your eyes. I want to see your explosion in them. I pull my hand away now, and your fingers move to the straps of my nightgown, pushing it down as my mouth finds you again. You push it off, lifting me from you so it falls entirely and moves down my body, so you can see me, see my hard nipples as my mouth works you now in a hungry frenzy. Your eyes don't leave me, now half-naked, watching you slide in and out of my mouth, faster, your hands pull my hair, and you're almost there. I feel you tremble on my tongue. "Give it to me," I whisper to you. And with your head back one last time, I feel you shudder from deep within, and you come for me, come inside my mouth, and as you do, I swallow you more deeply than I have, my tongue working you deep and fast. My hunger is greedy. It knows no bounds. I want more. I finally let you go, and wrap my arms around your waist, my cheek on your belly. We lay there quietly for a few minutes. "Come here," you whisper. I realize this is the first time you've said anything at all. I float to you, to your side. I am warm and next to you, and you push me onto my back, and pull away my nightgown. "You want me," I say. "Yes," you whisper. I close my eyes, as your hands touch me, touch my body, and I lick my lips as I look at your mouth. It is so close. The hunger groans within me. You see it in my eyes. You've seen it before but denied it. Your fingers touch my face. I see your hunger. It makes me tremble. I shake. You're going to have to kiss me, but you won't. You wait. My hips move. My mouth is slightly open. Your fingers tighten in my hair. I see your eyes have moved from mine, and are focused on my mouth. This moment is more erotic than any fucking could me. My breathing is faster. You lick your lips. I can't bear it. I bite my lower lip to not whimper for mercy from my hunger. And yours. But I'm not saying a word. I won't beg you. I won't kiss you. I can't. But your mouth. Your lips. So full. So soft. So warm. My hunger is simmering close to the surface and is about to boil over. Your fingers leave my hair to find my lips, and your eyes haven't left them. No. I can't take it. "No. Don't. My lips. My lips are ticklish. I can't..," I whisper. "I know," you say, smiling. To add to my insanity, my lips are so ticklish that I can't take them being touched. Especially by you. I try to block your hand, but you are quicker than me, and roll me on my back, my fighting you only urging you on. Holding my hands over my head now, your fingers find my lips and the sensation makes my heart race. Makes me turn my head back and forth to get away. "Stop, stop," I whisper. My mouth opens and my tongue finds your fingers, I bite you and suck your finger into my mouth, and the feeling of my tongue breaks you. You pull your fingers from my mouth, let my hands go, and with your arm under my neck, you take my mouth with yours. And oh God, the hunger. I can't let go. Your tongue finds mine. I shake. I try so hard to be quiet. But it is nearly impossible. Your hands dig into my back. Mine are in your hair. I lose my breath. I'd suffocate if I wasn't dead already. You move over me, above me, and then. Then you are inside of me. Now it is my back that arches, my eyes that close, and you that goes slowly. So slowly. For both of us. Your hands on my hips, slowly, slowly, we move together, and I float lighter than when I am suspended in the air above you. I fly higher than my ghostly wings carry me. We fly together. There is no gravity. Nothing holding us to anything but each other. I open my eyes and yours are on me. You move faster now, and I remember that I want to give you what you need, so I move. I move to push you to your back, never losing you inside me, and I move over you, riding, rocking, running my fingernails down your chest, gently, faster, not hard, not wild, steady. Steady. Rhythmic, on my knees, hips in a circle, hips back and forth. I watch your face. It is hypnotic, watching what is washing over it. We float higher. Higher, I am carrying you now, lifting you higher, rocking faster, now harder, moving to feeling you in, and out, in and out. We are almost there. You take me now, you want to be over me. Have that control. You know that's what I need. You want to give me what I need. And you do. My back arches more. My fingers twist in your bed, dig into your arms, and I can't look in your eyes, but I can't not either. Now, love. Now. I drive my fist into my mouth and break the skin with my teeth as my body bursts with life -- the life I've lost. The life I've not missed until now. You've shocked my heart back into beating. And I know you feel it too. You pull me too you and wrap your arms around me, but I can already feel the air lifting me and taking me from you. I give you one last kiss. I no longer fear your mouth. "Stay," you whisper. "I can't," I say, and touch your face, your mouth softly in a goodbye, as I lower you to your bed in sleep. I leave you in your peace, and float back into the air, and my silky nightgown clings to me, warm and soft. Your dreams are sweet. In your peace, I find mine. In your eyes, my heart beats. But you don't always see me, unless you need me. You sometimes don't feel me, and you almost never touch me. I linger around your life. I have no place in it. I am a ghost. My hunger is stronger than death. In our dreams, in your arms, I love. And live. The end. The Ghost in My Bed Author's Notes: Sometime my Muse presses something into my head that has to be written, as was the case with this story. I hope you enjoy reading it, although I wrote it to shut her up. ~~~~~ The darkest night does not begin to describe the evening. The storm clouds blocked out the stars and moon in the sky. If it were not for the city in the distance buzzing with life and light, it would be pitch black outside my bedroom windows. I closed the heavy dark purple drapes. To me it was about to be pitch black, as soon as I turned off the nightly news. Once the glow of the television darkened, I sank into my large empty bed with my eyes closed, as I submerged into pure darkness. A few deep breaths and the sound of cars driving by lulled me off to slumber. My dream created restlessness in me. My eyes fluttered open and closed trying to grasp the end of the dream, to remember why I needed to wake as a soft white light filled my room. I was talking to someone. Someone I missed. Someone I loved. "Daniel," I whispered to the glowing light in our room, as the edges of my dream flowed back into my mind. "Helen, I've missed you so," he said. Daniel's voice was barely audible, as if pouring into me through the dream. "My darling wife, even after all this time, you do still love me." "All this time?" I said, questioning everything except the conversation with my deceased husband. "After five years you're still so beautiful," he said. "You haven't aged a day." He was the one who had not aged, quite the opposite in fact. He was nude and illuminated the room as if he were an angel. His blond hair was beyond his shoulders, his muscled body more defined, and his eyes shone with unnatural light. I wanted to scream as I finally questioned him above me. His words and his own questions crested and fell with my heartbeats. "It has only been a year, Daniel. It's been almost one year since you left me," I said. Tears crawled down my cheeks. I was overwhelmed with joy and fear. "I didn't want to leave you, Helen. I'm so tortured without you, this must be a dream." He floated down on top of me, his icy hands seeking to soothe me through the bed covers. His body felt solid despite his gauzy appearance as it pressed me into our bed. He touched my lips with his own. I gasped at the coolness of them, the shock of it all. He caressed my face and that touch was cold as well. I could not deny that he did feel real, and if real what was he now? We touched each other tentatively, afraid to break the spell that let us be together. He gripped the bedding over my naked body and pulled them away. Daniel spread my legs and met with little resistance at my tight core. His member pressing into me brought my sex to life. I sighed, as he felt familiar but deathly cold as he pumped in and out of my body. Twelve Years Later... I paced the floor of my bedroom, anxious to see Daniel. He appeared every four years at midnight on the eve of February 28th crossing into the Leap Year day. 11:58pm the alarm clock displayed on its plastic face. The world would stop for me in two minutes. The veil of night would open long enough for Daniel to slip through, to return to my life as a ghost of the man I knew. He was always confused at first. Grateful, but lost as he tried to remember that time passed differently for me than him. I had started dying my hair, to cover the gray ones that began to sprout up like weeds in my auburn-colored hair. I worked out like a possessed woman, but I could not get rid of the pouch that my stomach had now. When Daniel arrived the last time I hadn't really changed so much, but four more years had aged my body. I even shaved my downy patch between my legs for fear that he would see that some of the hairs had turned gray. I wanted to look as beautiful as Daniel remembered me, although he never said I was anything other than perfection. Midnight had come and gone, still no sign of Daniel. I opened my new cell phone and read the display. 03-01-00 it said. I began to cry as I realized that there would be no February 29th this year. How could I not remember that? How could I forget that it was a not a Leap Year? Eight Years Later... I was too nervous tonight. Four years since the last time I saw Daniel; would he still find me beautiful? I had put on a little weight since the last time he'd visited. My hair was mostly gray and it looked awful if I colored it. The lines on my face told a story of aging. I paced, constantly checking the alarm clock display. Midnight came finally and Daniel was exactly as I'd him seen last. I quickly explained away all his usual questions. He said it still, even with my looks fading, that I was his beautiful wife. "I love you, now and forever, Daniel," I said as he filled me with his cold flesh. He thrust into me, and I silently thank KY for its wonderful lubing abilities. His skin was colder than the reverse side of my pillows. It felt as if that was the only change. His vitality, virility, and perfect visage were ironic in the face of his death. I prayed and wished we had more time. He would be gone by the morning light. His kiss was cold and pain; it was filled with such longing. I refused to let him go. If only I could keep him inside my body forever. I missed him more than ever, even with him sliding in and out of me. After I climaxed for the third time I was aware that he would leave soon, the sky was full of purples and blues, rather than black with sparkling stars. My tears stained my pillow. The grief of losing him again was too much to feel. It hurt every time he visited me. His hands ran up and down my body, pinching and playing. His frosty touch was his silent way of saying he wanted more sex from me. Our bedroom reeked from the hours of fucking, because we could no longer make love. There was no time for it. "Daniel, I don't know what will happen next time. The bank owns our house," I confessed my fear aloud. I hated to refuse him more sex when there was so little time left. I hoped he could hang on to the information that the economy was bad, and I lost our home because of bad investments. Daniel's mind seemed one track as he turned me in his arms so that I faced him. He planted light kisses across my face and drank my tears. "I'll find you my darling; it is you that brings me here. Not our home, not our things, just you my beautiful wife." I closed my eyes and prayed for his words to be true. Four Years Later... Death released Daniel from his bondage just moments before Daniel could focus on Helen and cross the line between life and death. Death enjoyed Daniel's body that no longer needed food or air. He treated him as a pet, but allowed him the one thing his heart desired, Daniel's beautiful angel, Helen. Daniel usually spent the precious time with Helen making love. Passionate, consuming sex, that left each of them not knowing where they began and the other ended. Daniel pretended to have little knowledge of his afterlife, when he was with her. She did not need to know that he'd become Death's fuck toy for her. When he was with her for those small hours, he thought of nothing but his Helen. This was the first time Death had bothered to watch him leave for his wife. Death said, "She isn't there anymore." Daniel's chest tightened into an ache, as if his heart still beat but had suddenly stopped. "Because of the house? That's not the deal we made. You promised if I let you fuck me, I could have her, this one thing every twenty years." Death sighed. "I should have released you, but I knew once I told you, you would beg for your freedom. Even I cannot be so cruel. I took this last year to enjoy you, my favorite love slave. My love of you is too powerful, to keep lying to you." Death began rubbing himself as he spoke. He attempted to arouse Daniel, but it could not work in the face of his anger. "Please promise me one favor, and I will grant you the freedom you have earned," Death said. "Yes!" Daniel screamed, agreeing to Death's demand. He would do anything that would allow him to reach the metaphysical door in time to see his wife. "As you've visited your wife, I want you to visit me. Every twenty years let me have you again, for just a few hours." "Yes, anything! May I go, please?" "You don't have to go where you think. Your wife is upstairs waiting for you," Death said. 'Upstairs' was his euphemism for Heaven, a place Daniel could reach anytime were he free from Death. "She died? When? How?" he asked as the knowledge sank into his soul. "She was murdered by a kid looking for drug money. He broke into her apartment and killed her when she refused to give up her wedding ring." What a hellish death for his poor Helen to have experienced, Daniel thought. "How long has she been dead?" he asked. Again, he ached in his chest. "A little over five years our time, a year on Earth. I collected her myself, and promised her she would see you soon. I intended to release you then, but as I took you for what should have been the last time, I couldn't let you go." Death dropped the shackles he had chained Daniel up with as he still played with himself. "Every time I have made love to you since she died, I promised myself it would be the final time. Yet, I could not release you. I could not tell you how selfish I have been all this time. "You will go straight to her when you pass through the door tonight. I have no right to ask you to return to me. You can break your promise, if you hate me that much. I just hope, you will...come back to me." Twenty Years Later... Death smiled at Daniel as he and I passed into Death's dungeon. True to his words, Daniel had returned. He'd told me of his deal with Death, but we were not here to keep his promise. We were here to flaunt our love in bodies that looked like the ages of our youth. We had come to torture Death for his years of using Daniel as a fuck toy and a slave. I spread my legs for my husband and he ignored Death as he licked and sucked between my thighs. His tongue rolled my clit around, and his mouth was warm as his tongue and fingers filled me. Since my death, our bodies no longer felt like different temperatures to each other. Everything felt like before, before Daniel had died. As Daniel continued to push into me, filling me, he bottomed out inside me with as much force and passion as I had for him. I felt sorry for Death. He had given us time together. Could I forgive him the sin of loving my husband? Yes. Could I forgive him the sin of raping and using my love? No. Maybe, I did not know as the crescendo of our raw sex filled my soul. I cried out from my climax. Death watched us, waiting patiently for a turn, which we would never give him. Death realized our intent, and I could see the pain in his eyes. He stared at my Daniel with a longing I knew too well and I was sated. The Ghost Lover Mr. Marten and his wife were returning to Boston from a business trip to Chicago. They were the only ones in the coach. They could feel the vibrations as the train rolled along the hilly terrain. Mrs. Marten looked out the window admiring the beauty of the rolling countryside as they passed hills and valleys of lush green, interspersed by buildings and farm houses. Mrs. Marten was a beautiful woman. She had a lovely face with brown eyes and full lips framed in auburn hair that flowed down over her shoulders, large swelling breast, a tiny waist, and long shapely legs that seemed to go far miles up to her around tight ass that swayed from side to side as she walked but she never flirted with men and she had never given her husband a reason to doubt her fidelity. Her husband was sitting beside her and seemed to be in a state of reverie, his eyes not focused on anything. He was a company executive and he often had to go on long trips. His wife always went with him as she did on this trip. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and with his dark hair and olive complexion he looked very distinguished. Everyone said they made a handsome couple. Mrs. Marten must have fallen asleep for a while, as she did not hear her husband tell her that he was going to the breakfast car and that he would be back in about an hour. When she awoke she noticed a man sitting beside her that was not her husband. She observed how handsome this man was. He was even more handsome then her husband with his wavy dark hair. He was looking at her she could tell. She stated to look back at him. She found herself moving closer to him and even desiring him. Suddenly she found his hand on her leg. She didn't care. In fact she wanted it there. When she turned to him he leaned over and kissed her. When she did not protest he kissed her again. This time he slipped his tongue between her parted lips. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue access. She encircled him in her arms and melted into him in what turned out to be very long and deep kiss. His tongue seemed to strike at her tonsils and the hand that was on her knee had moved up between her thighs and he was frigging her through her panties. Meanwhile Mr. Marten sat in the the breakfast compartment, totally unaware of what was going on between his wife and a total stranger.He took out a cigar and begin to smoke. As he did so his mind went back to a particular night at the office. He had just finished the work on his computer. He logged on some porno site and a large moving image came up on the screen. It was an enlarged image of a couple deep kissing and focused on their tongues exploring and darting in and out of each other's gaping mouths. Then the picture changed to an enlarged view the man's enormous cock relentlessly ramming her pussy and his ass going up and down as he pumped her. Then the image zoomed out and you could see everything. He was fucking her brains out. His cock in her cunt and his tongue in her mouth, giving it to her on both ends. Mr. Marten masturbated as he watched the image. He spilled his load on the floor at the same time the couple in the movie reached their climax. Mrs. Marten was now sprawled out on the seat totally naked with the man between her legs, fucking her relentlessly as she writhed and undulated beneath him, her ass going in a circular motion and up and down to meet each of his thrust. She loved the way he was kissing her while he fucked her, especially the way he repeatedly thrust his tongue into her mouth to repeat what his cock was doing in her cunt. Her moans were getting louder and louder as he fucker her harder and harder, pulling all the way out of her and ramming back in her to the hilt. She was on the verge of the best and most intense orgasm she had ever had. Suddenly the door of the coach opened and her husband walked in. His mouth flew opened in total shock. He just stood there looking at his wife totally naked and writhing on the seat, her head thrown back, her tongue licking out and her face distorted in an absolute expression on ecstasy. Her legs were spread wide apart and her arms reached out to embrace the air. Apparently there had been no one in the room but her. When she noticed her husband standing there, she stood up with and looked at him with an expression expression of astonishment on her face. The Ghost Next Door Pt. 01 The young woman sighed as her father parked their minivan in front of an old two-story house. While she could imagine it being the subject of envy during its time, it was hard to ignore how run-down it now looked. Its once red brick walls were now brown in places and moss-covered in others. The front lawn which, judging by the plant boxes, used to be bright and cheerful with colourful flowers was now so overran with weed and unidentifiable, dried-up plants that she wouldn't be surprised if snakes slithered in them. And its windows were so filthy that she doubted she would be able to see anything through them. "Dad," she said, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "Of all places, why here?" she proceeded to ask, her eyes still on the house. "Luna, we've talked about this," her father replied and though he tried to conceal it, he still sounded tired. After all that had happened, the last thing she wanted was to add to her father's burden but it was hard when he'd decided to move into a small town in the middle of nowhere. She didn't grow up in a big city nor was she asking to live in one but this place just looked so detached from the modern world. It was like traveling back in time except that the structures didn't travel back with them. After her mum was murdered and the killer convicted, they both decided to move out of the place her father called home for most of his life and hers all her life until now. They also agreed that a complete change of scenery would help them heal faster but she didn't expect this much change. The village was a small, quiet one with houses just as old-looking as the one she was looking at now, if not older. She wished she could call it quaint, but no. The place reminded her of one of those horror movies where a the villagers were either cannibals or evil cults just waiting for the right time to kill them. She shivered at the thought. She was nineteen. Her life was supposed to be revolving around socialising, partying. She could see neither happening. And she was still over a month away from the start of a new school year. "I know it doesn't look much right now but once we've had it nice and clean, you'll see," her father assured her. She turned to face him and nodded, not because she actually believed him but because she knew that not much could be done about the situation. Not to mention the pleading glint in his eyes. *** It took them only half an hour to unload and move their stuff into the house, thanks to their neighbours who, much to her relief, seemed to be really friendly and welcoming without being creepy. She was also happy to learn that the Internet worked there and that they had a decent movie house and supermarket-slash-video store just a short drive away. They were even saved the trouble of preparing lunch as their new neighbours brough in different dishes. Grateful, they invited the lot to join them. Lunch was a cheerful affair and the food wasn't bad at all. By the time it was over, she had already made a couple of potential friends who offered to help her with the dishes while the rest helped her dad with other stuff. Before night came, they were mostly settled, leaving them with just a few boxes—their personal stuff—to unpack, and making the exterior look like a proper home exterior again. Again, the neighbours kindly offered to help but they declined saying they'd helped them more than enough already. After dinner, Lorraine and Iver, her new friends, invited her to a night stroll and with her dad's encouragement, she joined them. They hadn't even gone far when she stopped. She didn't notice it before but there was a house beside theirs though it was in a worse state than their house had been. Where their house looked weathered, this one looked like it was ready to collapse anytime soon. She was about to turn away and continue walking when she caught a glimpse of a very pale face peeking through one of the upper windows. She gasped and stepped back, bumping into one of her companions. "Did you see that?" she asked and pointed toward the window but the face was already gone. "See what?" Lorraine and Iver asked in unison, following the direction with their eyes. "I saw a face," she said, her voice sounding breathless. Finally, she was able to pull her gaze away from the window, just in time to see the two exchange glances. "What?" she asked and the two dragged her away, stopping only once the house was out of sight. "Looks like you've just been welcomed by the Ghost," Iver said as they sat on logs in a vacant lot, Lorraine nodding beside him. "The Ghost?" she repeated, searching her friends' faces for any sign that they were kidding her. For all she knew, that pale face could be one of her teenage neighbours pranking her and Lorraine and Iver were on in the joke. Lorraine nodded again and wet her lips with her tongue before she went on to explain. "That house has been empty for a long time. The people who used to live there were a married couple. The woman had a miscarriage and the doctors told her she could no longer conceive. Their marriage went downhill from there. They filed for divorce then moved out. "Though abandoned, the house was quiet and as normal as an empty house could be. But about five years ago, people started seeing it—him. A pale figure of a man looking out one of the windows; one moment there, gone the next. Priests have been brought in several times to bless, even exorcise, the house but none worked. He didn't leave." Lorraine paused, as if waiting for the words to sink in. Luna wanted so badly to not believe them. Ghosts weren't real, right? But she'd seen him, the Ghost. And now that she thought about it, it was unlikely that anyone would risk their lives just for a few moments of entertainment. It was a miracle that the house was still standing. It couldn't possibly still hold the weight of a fully grown man. "So my closest neighbour is a ghost," she said barely over a whisper and took in a deep breath. "How fucking great," she then added, louder this time. *** It had been almost a week since the night she saw the Ghost and she hadn't again seen even just a sign of his existence since then. She was starting to think that though no one was pranking her, it was possible that it was just a figment of her imagination. After all, she was tired and upset that night. Still, how could she explain the accounts of other witnesses? Even some of the more elderly residents swore that the Ghost really did exist. Little did she know that she was soon to have another—closer—encounter with him. It was the first time she was left alone in the house. Her dad had to return to their hometown to take care of some legal matters regarding their old property. He offered to take her with him but she assured him she'd be alright. She had forgotten about the Ghost and with the new home security her dad had installed, she felt completely safe. After dinner, she made sure the alarm system was properly placed and set then headed upstairs to her bedroom where she watched movies on her laptop until she felt tired enough to sleep. Next thing she knew, she woke up to the sound of her bedroom door slowly opening. She sat up and reached out to the side of her bed for her night lamp. "Dad, is that you?" she called out just as her hand found the switch. He said he wouldn't be home 'til after lunch the next day but she didn't want to scare herself. And maybe whatever business he had to take care of had been handled quickly. But when her finger pressed the switch, she gasped as the faint light revealed a tall, pale man standing at the foot of her bed. She opened her mouth to scream but the man—the Ghost—was quick to clamp his hand over her mouth, effectively muffling the sound. "Ssshhhh! Be quiet. I won't hurt you," the man whispered, his face barely an inch away from hers. Despite her terror, she couldn't help but note how warm both his hand and his breath were. 'Warm?' she thought. How come he was warm? Dead people were supposed to be cold, weren't they? But that wasn't really important at the moment. She had to get away from him. With him straddling her legs, her blanket pinning them to the bed, she had no other choice but to use her hands. She tried to pry his hand off of her mouth but she caught her hands by her wrists and held them against her chest, forcing her to lie back down. "Listen, you're in danger but not from me. I'm here to protect you. I know you don't know me and that I look... frightening," he said, faltering on the last word. Was that pain she sensed? But before she could analyse it, it was gone. "I will let you go but, please, be quiet and follow me, alright?" Luna bit his hand and was about to scream when the alarms blared followed by what sounded like the front doors being kicked open. The Ghost's eyes widened and his voice became more urgent. "They're here. Luna, please, trust me." Luna nodded and with some hesitation, the Ghost let her go. "How did you know my name? And who are 'they'?" she asked, fear and confusion evident in her voice. "I don't have time to explain. How about we get out of here and once we're safe, I'll tell you everything?" Again Luna nodded and the Ghost took her hand before practically dragging her out of bed. She nearly fell as the sheets tangled with her feet but the Ghost caught her and freed her. The Ghost led her straight to the next room, the one with the fireplace and the one her dad planned to convert into his studio (he was a sculptor). The Ghost locked the door and she helped him carry a heavy table over to barricade the door, making as little noise as possible. She could hear voices from downstairs, both angry and urgent, but her heart was pounding in her ears that she could not understand them. "Here," the Ghost called. He then crawled into the fireplace and began climbing up. She followed him, carefully holding on and stepping on the bricks which were sticking out at regular intervals, surprised at how much room the chimney actually had compared to what was suggested from the outside. Soon enough the Ghost stopped climbing and opened a small metal door then climbed in. Every moment that passed, more and more questions burned in her mind, but she pushed them off for later. She followed him through the door and into a space wide and high enough for a large man to comfortably crawl through on all fours. They took several turns, the Ghost silent the whole time. Just when her knees and palms began to ache, she saw a square of faint light up ahead and the Ghost dropped from it. When it was her turn, he easily caught her, their bodies pressing together. The contact was brief as he quickly let her go but it was enough to incite a reaction from her body. A delicious warmth spread all over her, making her nipples strain against the silk of her nightie. It was then that she became aware of how little clothing she was wearing. 'Unbelievable,' she thought. How could her body react in such a way to a stranger and in such a dangerous situation? Again, she pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind and forced herself to focus on her surroundings. They were in a rather big room with several empty shelves pushed against the walls. An old mattress lay in the middle of the room with folded clothes that looked like they doubled as pillows, and a tattered blanket. The room was illuminated by several gas lamps set in each shelf. There were tiny windows high on the west and north walls. Other than those, the room was empty. "Where are we?" she asked him. He was busy packing stuff into a knapsack. The Ghost paused to look at her and after some thought, replied. "This is a secret room in your house. This is where I live," he said and resumed what he was doing even as he said, "We should be safe here for now but will move again first thing tomorrow." "What's going on?" she then asked as she walked over to where he was. He stood near one of the gas lamps and for the first time, she had a really good view of him. His skin and hair were pale, making stark contrast against his dark shirt and pants. And his eyes, they were the reddish colour of wine. "You're not a ghost," she whispered her realisation, one hand over her heart. "You're an albino." The Ghost who was not really a ghost looked at her once again, his head moving in a slow nod. Luna closed her eyes and stepped away from him, her fingers pressed to the sides of her head. She had finally unlocked an answer but with it, more questions rose. All the emotions she held back now came rushing back and overwhelmed her. Suddenly it became difficult to breathe. She swayed as her vision blurred in and out of focus but Ghost was quick to catch her yet again. "Luna, are you OK?" he asked, concern softening her tone like a carress. And once again, her body reacted, heating up. As if she hadn't enough to worry about already. "Please, please tell me what's happening. I need to know," she said and turned to look at him just as tears spilled from her eyes. Ghost guided her over to the mattress and lay her down. Through her tears, she couldn't help but marvel at how handsome Ghost actually was. Before she knew what she was doing, she had reached up to cup his face and traced the outline of his mouth with her thumbs. She felt him shiver as he closed her eyes and she smiled. Despite everything she was feeling, she could only think of how much she liked causing him to respond that way. Heat spread like wildfire all over her body before concentrating between her legs. Even though she had never been intimate with man before, thanks to her overprotective dad, Luna wasn't exactly innocent. She'd pleasured herself numerous times with her fingers so she knew what the pulsing need between her thighs meant. "Luna..." Ghost moaned, sending delicious shivers up her spine. She didn't know why but she wanted Ghost right here right now. Her hands moved down his body, making a beeline down the front of his pants but Ghost stopped her. She looked surprised and hurt at her perceived rejection, her eyes welling up with tears again. She didn't know what was happening, all she knew was that she needed him to touch her. Either that or she would die. "Ghost, please," she pleaded and raised her leg, rubbing it against the front of his pants. She moaned when she realised that he was just aroused at she was, his hard member straining against his pants. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she pushed him over to his back and straddled his hips, the hem of her short nightie riding up her thighs high enough to reveal her already wet panties. She bent over and kissed him, silencing the protest she knew was to come while her hand reaches between their bodies and cupped his swollen cock. Ghost moaned into her mouth and she felt his hips rocked ever so slightly. He was still fighting it. She managed to open his pants with one hand and slipped it inside his boxers. Ghost moaned again and this time, his hips really arched from the bed. But once again, he pulled her hand away and she pouted. Her disappointment was quickly replaced with pleasant surprise as it was her turn to be pushed on her back, his body pinning hers to the bed. She parted her legs and wrapped them around her waist, effectively pressing his hard length to her wet core. She had always imagined herself engaged in a passionate foreplay before the steamy actual intercourse but this time, the need was so overwhelming that the foreplay would have to wait for another time. 'Wait, another time? What—' The logical part of her mind tried to reason but her body's need overpowered all logic. 'Yes, I will have Ghost again. And again. And again,' she decided and struggled to push his pants and boxers down with her feet. His cock sprung free, the shaft lodging between her panty-clad pussy lips. It was still far from the real deal but it was enough to make her cry out. "Gods, yes!" she breathed and moved her hips so that she was rubbing against his cock. He groaned in response and soon enough, he was ripping her panties off of her hips. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her bare pussy and looked into her eyes as he finally stopped at her entrance. She nodded, biting her lip, and felt him slide in slowly. She felt a slight discomfort as his girth stretched her. After a few moments, he stopped and she realised he must've met the resistance of her virginity and was asking for her permission to continue. She knew from her friends and the erotic novels she'd read that the first time was going to hurt but she also knew that the pleasure that came after would make the brief pain worth it. "Ghost, please," she urged him. Ghost needn't be told twice. With a single thrust, he broke her hymen. She clenched her teeth, a hiss of pain managing to escape through them, while her heels dug into his back. Again, he paused and waited for her signal and when she gave it, he moved again, his thrusts starting out slow and gentle but soon increased in speed and urgency. It didn't take long before their moans and grunts of pleasure filled the room, mixing with the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. And when finally they reached their climax—together—their cries of ecstasy were like the war cries of a different kind. The Ghost of a Kiss © Original_Cinnamon 2005 We have had a good evening. There has been good wine, good food and conversation that lapped about the boundaries of our lives; my friends know me better than to push for details. They have been kind this evening and, as I wave them farewell from the door, I thank them. They haven't mentioned you, though your picture still sits on the mantel. As I start to clear glasses and plates, remove the empty bottles, I'm almost glad your presence wasn't a part of the evening - it's as if it proves something, proves my new independence, my strength. It's a silly notion, soon gone. I remember, as I stack the dishwasher, how you'd wave a dismissive hand at the washing up, teetering in crusted piles in the sink. You'd say we should leave it until the morning. 'Who knows?' you'd say. 'We might be dead tomorrow.' I miss you. Even more when I stand, and my back clicks. I miss your gentle touch, your massages, your sympathy. I don't want to turn out the light. The candles are blown out, the table cleared, the room returned to normal. I say goodnight to you. * This is my bedroom. My room - you were never here; never in this flat. The colours are mine, soft citrus and pastels. The carpet is thick, the bedclothes satin and impractical. You'd hate the tactile throws, the girly touches of décor, the amber lamp I brought back from Krakow (my first holiday alone). Reaching behind me, I unzip my dress. It's a thick, heavy fabric; holds in what I've let slip a little since you. I don't worry so much now about what I wear - no more black tie functions, no more skimpy Little Black Dresses to show off my arms and the rounded prize of my bum, for you to pat while you spoke Japanese to middle-aged businessmen who stared at my breasts. The dress falls to the ground in a cascade of light blue, thick like frozen water. Warmer than ice, I suppose. My body is tired. I run my hands over my head; my hot, dry forehead, my new blonde perm (you like me brunette, I know...). I feel the knots in the back of my neck, still long, still strong - I must keep my head up in the City, darling - and trace the points of my shoulders. The straps of my black bra (sensible, no lace) are easily dispensed with; I pop the clasp and remove its constraint. My breasts aren't as firm as they once were. Still high-slung, still creamy and solid, my skin soft, my nipples large and brown - and, oh, if anything, more responsive. Just the brush of the air makes them hard. I toss my bra onto the chair, run my hands down my décolletage, press my palms against my hard nipples. It's a small friction, but it runs throughout my body. I squeeze my tits, like you might have done, but I miss the heat and the weight of your body behind me, your cock pressing against my buttocks as you kiss my neck. I miss your arms. I sigh a little as my hands slide down to my tights, my underwear. My stomach, more rounded than you'd remember it, moves under my fingers like a lazy tabby, needing, purring. I strip the tights from my legs, rubbing the muscles that high heels cause such agony. You loved my legs - long and strong, not those of a girl. I won't pretend I don't have the occasional varicose vein, the odd stretch mark. It's my body, and I've had fun with it. I sit on the wide of the bed, the velvet throw crushed against my thighs, and wiggle my toes. Pink is a good colour for me. Off with the panties, I slip quickly into bed and watch the room in the orange glow from the amber lamp. It is too quiet. I snuggle under the covers, pulling them close about me. I don't want to turn off the light. Oh, God, I don't want to be here in the dark without you. I close my eyes, squeezed shut. My body is cold, but my hands feel hot. My fingers reach for the cleft of my pleasure, seeking out a means to sleep. I'm not wet. I stroke my inner thighs, wishing I could feel the roughness of your cheek. Instead, there is just the crispness of my own pubic hair. I clamp my hands between my legs, pushing against their warmth, their weight. At this moment, I am desperate to have something there, to have you there. I'm horny. If I say it out loud, it encompasses more. Sitting up, I open the bedside cabinet. I was never really one to play with toys, but I suppose needs must... The vibrator is rather small - not something that looks like it could rearrange your kidneys on the first thrust - maybe just under six inches. Subtle, as these things go, with a soft, tight-fitting sheath that feels like skin. Maybe not a conventional girl's best friend, but worth every penny. I smear lube over the cock, pumping it in my palm until it feels warm and slick - almost approaching life, if I try to believe it. When I switch it on, it purrs quietly, a gentle hum as it twitches against my skin. With my eyes closed, I can think of your body, visualise your sex. There was a time I couldn't bear to but, now, the pain is less, stored at the back of my mind while pleasure washes my forebrain; hot, unyielding, growing urgent. I rub the vibrator around my pussy, spreading the lube and its warming buzz around my lips. A couple of tentative pressures, teasing my hole as you might have done - I want it in me now. With one hand, I can hold the vibe down on the bed and position myself over it. Slowly, belying the urge to fuck hard, fast and desperate, I impale myself on it and start to ride. Oh, yes - back and forth, feeling the hardness slip deeper, the hum further inside me as my pussy welcomes the toy. The covers slip from my body - cold air, shadows all through the room. Faster now, pinching and rolling my nipples in my fingers. I feel a small streak of sweat on my back as my muscles work around the vibe, sending its sweet tremors through my flesh. I gasp - I call your name as I come. It disgusts me that I do so... as I lay back against the pillows, cool on my damp skin, lazily fingering my clit, the vibe static inside me, I know I should leave you to your sleep. Orgasm. The little death, so poets once called it. The irony isn't lost on me. * Sleep comes to me relatively easy after I've come like that - you once said I was the cat that got your cream and slept on a sated belly... I pointed out I sleep on my back, and you laughed at me. Now, I don't sleep well as a rule. I spend more on eye gels and skin masques than lingerie, and the bed always feels too big. But my body sparks like a warm engine cooling, my muscles are soft, and I pull the covers over me, content to clean up in the morning. I can hear rain patter outside while cars swoosh by. The curtains block out what little moonlight there is - nothing but shadowy shapes as I close my eyes. I am not quite asleep when the cold air hits my collarbone. With a grunt, assuming the covers have slipped, I burrow further down the bed - but the chill is insistent. A finger of air traces across my chest, drawing slowly over the contours of my breasts, rising from my supine form. I shiver to feel them cupped, kneaded lovingly - a fingernail flicks at my nipple. With a sigh, I know I am dreaming at last. As your lips fasten to mine, I know I am awake. Your skin is soft, smooth, cold - you tongue slides into my mouth with effortless fire. My eyes are closed as we kiss, as you taste and swallow with sensation every small, wet place in my mouth. I couldn't bear to wake and see... what? Nothing? Nothing, or worse. I abandon myself to this ghost of a kiss, and to the pressure of fingers upon my shoulders. The covers draw back as I lay down again, the bed sags beneath a familiar weight. I hope I will get used to the raw chill of your touch... you used to give me goosebumps, in the early days, but this is ridiculous. The cold rakes down my body - you are running your hands over me, learning the changes, loving the memories. It's like ice; your freezing touch, the clamminess of the trails it leaves behind. I know it's you - you pause to poke a finger into my navel before continuing your journey. I moan when the cold hits my pussy. There's a rustle that could be laughter, could be the wind in the trees outside. You've found the evidence of my past playtime, still damp in my cunt and on my thighs. 'Well? What else am I supposed to do without you?' For all answer, my clit is brushed softly with a single chill. I gasp, tucking my pelvis to shy from the contact. You could make me come like that; so sharp, so cold... so good it hurts. I can feel the shape, the weight of a hand on my hip and - with the subtlety and grace of an elephant - the distinct presence of your cock against my leg. It's hard, twitching ever so slightly on my thigh as that chill caress begins again in my pussy. Lightly, gently, until I moan, tossing my head against the pillow like some porno starlet. You hold me in place with that icy hand, with the fear of losing you, of losing this feeling. As I think I can't stand any more, the sensation abates. 'Oh!' Your cockhead, fast against my pussy, rubbing in tiny circles at my clit and my lips. Not cold... hot, hard (so hard!), lazy. You loved this, to rub the highest centres of our pleasure together, until we lost ourselves in an intensity of feeling that united our senses, mixed us up in each other - and now, without a condom. I can feel my renewed wetness mix with your precum. I suppose I've nothing to worry about, as far as disease or pregnancy goes, have I? My breathing is shallow now, ragged. My hips buck as you move away. 'Come back! Don't stop... ' I'm reaching blindly then - tearing a cry from my chest - you're inside me. Long, slow strokes service every inch of my pussy with thorough touches, tender and full of power. You thrust deeper, harder, drawing out each time almost to your full length, then plunging back like a diver to a waterfall, rushing and drowning in the sensation. Cool kisses pepper my neck, my chin, my breasts, dropped from unseen lips as your cock works me into a panting, visceral desperation. Faster now - fuck! Yes, faster, harder, your cock staying further in me each time, battering against the inner reaches of my pussy. I give a little cry as I feel the crackle of your pubic hair pressed to my clit, your balls flush to my bum, skin slapping as you fuck me ever deeper, working to bring us to the closest union possible. I don't know if I imagine the pant of breath, the damp sound of my pussy begging for your cock, your load, with the flow of juices that wet the sheets. Sweat beads my body as I claw at the bedclothes - harder, you know you won't hurt me - my thighs pushed up and legs bent to their limit to accommodate you as deep as you can go. I feel you stroke the secret sweet spots inside me (G-spot, A-spot, the whole fucking alphabet!). My legs tremble and my hips start to quake as I feel the orgasm building inside me. Quicker, more and more, your cock pushes me on and on. Your hot prick still pounds me as my pussy grips at you; I ride the blisters of pleasure one after another, to breaking point, panting and groaning in my bliss I shriek your name, name the act, beg for more. I buck under you, your cock still stroking long thrusts into my hot cunt - you don't stop, and the voluptuous delirium gives way to another intensity. My every nerve is raw, grated and oversensitive as you keep fucking, driving my flesh further with a maddeningly intensity that scalds my senses. I throw my hips up to you as I come, desperate with uncontrollable desire, orgasm wracking my senses and wrecking my rhythm. Your cock twitches as it rams into me, like a living, caged thing, snarling and greedy. I feel your glans beat against me then - ah! - a final jerk of incredible power and, oh God, I'm drenched in your spunk. One, two great hot spurts deep inside my pussy - you still move, syncopated, we flail against each other in the paroxysms of our climax, united as pleasure starts to subside. It's all I can do to keep breathing. It's all I can do to keep breathing when I know that, tomorrow morning, you'll be gone once more.