22 comments/ 21498 views/ 38 favorites How to Exercise a Ghost By: HookerBoots She was there again. Ian sighed and poured the last of the coffee into his cup before turning around. Behind him, standing, staring, without a word, was a petite woman. She was pretty, in a prim, librarian sort of way, her dark hair up in a careful bun, full lips, wide green eyes, and a figure that, from what he could tell, was incredible. It was hard to tell, because she was wearing a dress straight from Victoriana; almost like a modern sheath, long sleeves, but with a substantial bustle on the back, framing the ruffles down the front. She wore long gloves, and had a cameo hung on a ribbon around her neck. He could see all that, even as he could see the rest of the kitchen through her form. He'd always thought ghosts were washed out and pale, white and pale blue. But apparently, this one was full-color. Ian didn't know her name, because she couldn't speak. Well, she could speak, but he couldn't hear her. She'd stopped trying a week or so ago, and now contented herself with standing and staring. And wrecking his dates. Every time he'd brought a girl home since she appeared, she'd show up and freak him out. He was a good-looking guy, over six feet tall, a swimmer's body that hadn't gone to seed yet despite being in his late 20s. But since he'd graduated from college a few years ago, he hadn't had time for swimming. Combined with his auburn hair, grey eyes, and ready smile, he wasn't hurting for dates. But this . . . ghost-woman was seriously making things far more difficult than he'd hoped when he moved into this place. Moving to a new town was supposed to wipe the slate clean from him, after his breakup with Angela. All right, it was only a different suburb of Springfield, but it was still supposed to be a new start. And now, hauntings. Ian leaned against the counter, his legs crossed, and studied the pretty apparition as he sipped the hot beverage. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but things can't keep going like this. I've got a medium coming today, and we're going to see about moving you out." Her eyes widened, and her face registered mild panic. Her eyes darted around, as though trying to find a way out. Then she sagged in place, resignation all over her posture. Ian felt kind of bad, seeing her give up like that. He headed into the living room, knowing she'd follow. She always followed him when she was around. Ian sat down on the couch and picked up a pile of papers that he still needed to grade, trying to ignore her. She sat down on the chair opposite him, another find from his thrift shopping shortly after moving in. It was a shame that she couldn't talk to him, maybe he wouldn't need to waste hard-earned money on paying someone to talk to her, and maybe get rid of her. The first time she'd shown up, it had nearly scared him senseless. Ian and Charlotte, a girl he'd seen a few times before, had been on the couch. She'd had her top off, and he was working on her bra when suddenly the room got cold. He looked up, and jumped back as though . . . well, as though he'd seen a ghost. Charlotte had been concerned that she'd done something wrong, or that he'd seen the mole that she was self-conscious about. But he couldn't explain something she couldn't see, and she'd left, the translucent woman clearly scolding her, claiming that he could just be honest with her if he didn't want to be with her. Ian had then spent the rest of the night talking with -- or trying to talk with -- the ghost and getting more and more frustrated with their lack of communication. He'd finally fallen asleep on the couch, with her sitting primly on the chair across the room, watching him with a pained expression on her face. And he'd woken up to the same thing, her expression somehow sad and wistful. He graded, she stared, for about an hour. Then the doorbell chimed, and they both looked up together. Ian stood and opened the door, looking over his shoulder at her, sitting there morosely. He sighed again, then putting on a smile. "Hi. You must be Jane." The tall, middle-aged woman standing there nodded. "That's me. And you must be Ian McCormack." She smiled, and the expression made her face light up. "Let's get started on your haunting. A young woman, correct?" Ian stepped aside, letting her in, and she looked around the room. "Oh, there she is." Ian shut the door behind her, and followed her into the living room. The medium took a seat near the pretty ghost and faced her. "I think this will be fairly simple, Mr. McCormack." Jane turned to face the ghost and smiled encouragingly. "Hello, dear. What's your name?" The ghost made a gesture towards her throat, then to her ears. The meaning was clear. "Oh, come now. I'm a spirit medium. I can hear you." Blinking, the ghost smiled slowly, her lips moving. "Jennie. All right, Jennie, it's nice to meet you. Now, can you tell me why you're staying here with Ian?" Silent words that the medium could hear. Ian sank down to the sofa, his eyes wide. He'd fully expected this woman to be a charlatan, only calling her because one of his mother's friends had seen her on a TV show. When she hadn't been able to do anything, he'd planned on calling the local church, to see about an exorcism. Maybe that wouldn't be necessary. Maybe he wouldn't be wasting his money after all. As she "spoke", Jennie seemed to become more and more animated, her emotions clear on her face. But it was almost amusing, this one-sided conversation. "Well, that's just terrible. I'm so sorry to hear that you've been through so much, after death and everything." "And he got married, with you right there? Some people have no sense of etiquette!" "Now, that's harsh, dear. They didn't know any better, and certainly not about your feelings." After about twenty minutes, Jane nodded firmly and turned to face Ian. "Mr. McCormack, have you purchased any men's jewelry from a thrift shop in, say, the past month?" "Uh, yeah? I bought this pocket watch around the same time I bought the furniture in here, right after I moved." He dug into the watch pocket of his jeans, holding the brass timepiece by the chain. "Why?" Jennie was nodding enthusiastically, and Jane's gaze flickered over to her before going back to him. "That's what her spirit is attached to. I . . . as near as I can tell, it's a complicated sort of . . . well, glue, if you will." She held out one hand. "May I inspect that?" Ian handed the watch over, unclipping the slender chain from his belt. "Of course. Do you think . . . we can help her move on?" "Mmm. Probably. Fascinating." Jane clicked open the watch, and was studying it. Then she snapped it shut, and handed it back. "I think we can, but it may take some sacrifice on your part, Mr. McCormack." Blinking, Ian looked back at her. "What kind of sacrifice? I mean, I won't kill a chicken or anything, but . . . ." Jane shook her head. "Not that. You see, what's going on is that she's trapped by tangled, unresolved feelings. She died the day before her wedding, and her fiancé eventually married someone else." She sighed. "The lingering resentments and unfinished ending to the romance have anchored her to that watch, that she gave him before their wedding." He looked at the watch, a little amazed. "This? I thought it was the house." He tucked the watch into his pocket again and rested his elbows on his knees. "Tell me what I have to do." The medium's face colored, her dark complexion turning ruddy. "Well, you see. Because it's linked to love, there are . . . certain manners of reaching closure. Consummating, you would say. Since she never got her wedding day, or night . . . ." Her face reached new colors of red, and she trailed off. Ian stared at her for a moment, then blinked and blushed himself. "Oh. Oh, well." He glanced at Jennie, whose face was also, he thought, bright red as she stared her feet. "Um . . . I guess if it will help her, I'd be willing, but . . . ." Jennie's head snapped up, and she looked, incredulous, at him. He smiled gamely at her, but then looked at Jane again. "I can't even talk to her, how am I supposed to be able to . . . touch?" Grinning, the older woman said, "That's no problem! It's only three weeks until Halloween." She opened her handbag and began rummaging in it. "That's one of the days when the line between the spirit world and ours is thinner than usual. Then, you'll need to perform a simple ritual," she pulled out a linen-wrapped package, "then build a fire and throw these herbs on it. Then, um, follow where nature takes you. Or the supernatural, I suppose." She plopped the package on the table and stood up. "I'll have the ritual instructions emailed to you before the week is out." Jennie looked at her, spoke and gestured in a way that conveyed gratitude even to Ian. Jane smiled. "Of course, dear. It's the least I can do, and you need to have closure." The older woman turned her smile on Ian. "I'll let you get back to your work, then." He stood up as well. "Of course, thank you so much for your help. Here, I'll walk you out." The next three weeks seemed to fly by. Or drag, depending on Ian's mood when he thought about it. Jennie spent the time wandering around -- when she was visible -- looking alternately terrified, shy, and excited. It also seemed like she was changing how she was dressed, but he couldn't be sure. It seemed like the cut and color of the dress changed slightly, the neckline varying a few inches up or down, or the number of ruffles or amount of lace changing from day to day. He did know that she was changing her hair. Sometimes, it would be in the usual bun, but other times, he'd look at her and her hair would be loose down her back in long, translucent, chestnut waves. Other times, she'd have two long braids hanging over her shoulders. If she was nervous, he was as well. His students noticed, and asked him if someone he cared about was ill. He couldn't focus on work either, and kept having to reread assignments as he was grading them, because he was half-heartedly reading and watching her fidget. She was cute when she was nervous, chewing her lower lip as she thought whatever thoughts ghosts had. He'd gotten the ritual instructions from Jane and printed them out late at night when no one else was in the computer lab. They seemed pretty easy and straightforward, but he was going to have to buy a few things. He didn't own any incense, and was pretty certain that none of his kitchen knives would do as an athame. Thankfully, there was a new-age shop in town that was able to fill in what he didn't have, including a bundle of wormwood that he was supposed to mix with the incense. Thankfully, Halloween was on a Saturday, so he didn't have to worry about staying up late and heading into work the next day. The timing of the spell was pretty specific, so he'd have to start it at the last stroke of midnight starting Halloween. Ian had things ready to go, the circle drawn and the incense burning, at 11:55, waiting for the time to be right. When the clock tower a few blocks over started to ring the change of day, he drew in a deep breath. Twelve chimes later, Ian started speaking in Latin, grateful that he'd had time to brush up the little he remembered from high school. The spicy, licorice scent of the wormwood mixed with the sweet smokiness of the incense made him feel a little dizzy. Ian pitched the packet of herbs that the medium had left into the small fire, releasing more smoke and a bitter aroma. As the leaves curled and smoldered, he felt Jennie appear. She sat across the room in a low-backed chair, hands clasped lightly in her lap. This time, her hair was down with a pale flower tucked behind one ear, and the dress she was wearing was pale gold -- not quite white -- with a neckline that was almost daringly low, but covered the ground between her chin and chest with sheer fabric. He stood up from where he'd been kneeling in front of the circle he'd drawn. "Jennie? Can you hear me?" She looked at him, a little amused, and said in a soft, clear voice, "I've always been able to hear you, silly. Can you hear me?" "I . . ." Ian looked at her, startled. He hadn't really expected this whole rigmarole to actually work, but they'd clearly progressed at least a little. "I can hear you. I . . . huh. This is crazy, I can't believe this worked." Jennie stood up, her hands twining nervously together. "Well, we don't know that it's worked totally. I can talk to you now, but the rest of this plan sort of hinges on," her cheeks colored prettily, and he had to suppress a grin, "more than us talking." She took a step towards the circle, then another, her foot crossing the line Ian had drawn. As her foot crossed over, she took a deep breath, and the smoke shifted -- the smoke from the small fire in the fireplace as well as the incense stopped their leisurely travel towards the ceiling and shifted as though a strong wind blew them towards Jennie. Her breath was filled with the smoke, and Ian could see it inside of her form, opaque and changing color to match what she was wearing. It didn't stop, the smoke filling her as though she were a glass chimney. It swirled, spinning around inside of her as she stood there, her breathing now in gasps, hands clasped to her stomach. When she straightened again, Jennie was no longer transparent. The smoke had -- somehow -- turned her solid, at least visually. She looked down at herself and smiled delightedly. "I look like me again, anyhow!" Ian smiled back. "You're right, though. We have to, um, touch to give you the closure you need to move on." He extended a hand to her. "Take my hand, Jennie. And then we'll see about letting you move on." Jennie looked at his hand for a moment, equal parts scared and hopeful, before extending her own hesitantly. When it finally reached Ian's, both of them looked a little surprised by the feeling of actual, solid contact that they had. "Well," she said weakly, "we know that it worked." "Yes," he murmured, "we certainly do." He tugged on her hand a little, pulling her closer to him. The skin of her hand was pleasantly cool, and soft. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. "Come with me." The lovely girl followed him down the hall to the bedroom, where he'd set up as romantic an atmosphere as he could. A white tablecloth draped over his nightstand, an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries, and a single rose in a crystal vase he'd borrow-stolen from his mother's house. The room was lit with candles, enough of them scented to have the room smell faintly of roses and vanilla. It was, hands-down, the girliest his room had ever, ever looked or felt. But it worked. She paused just inside the door, eyes wide, and sighed happily. "It's lovely, Ian. Is this why you left the watch in the kitchen for a few hours this afternoon?" He smiled at her, squeezing her hand. "Yes. I thought it might be easier for both of us if we had a more . . . conducive feeling." An idea crossed his mind, and he felt like a cad. "I didn't even think if you could eat or drink like this, though." She walked over to the small table, reaching out hesitantly for one of the berries. "I think so. I mean, I can touch . . . you know, you and the house, so . . . let's try." She lifted one of the chocolate-dipped fruits and raised it to her mouth. A delicate, sensuous bite that he watched with eager eyes. She chewed and swallowed, then looked at him with a bright smile. "I can, and these are delicious!" That broke his stasis, and Ian stepped forward, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring a bit into each of the glasses. "That's great! I'm glad you like them. Here, try some of this -- you are," he said swinging the glass out of her reach for a moment, "over twenty-one, I hope?" "Yes, of course! I turned twenty-two last . . . er, I mean, the March before . . . you know." She blushed a little, and took the glass when he swept it back to her grasp. "Anyway." He watched as she gulped down the champagne in one swallow, then cradled the glass in her hands. "Hey, Jennie, no." She looked up, eyes wide. "Don't feel bad about it. Don't think about it, not tonight, okay?" "Well, it's sort of hard not to," she retorted as he poured her another glass of champagne. "I mean, that's the whole point of tonight, isn't it?" "Nope." He sipped his champagne, watching her expression. She was startled, then confused. "Tonight is about making you forget the past, and letting you move on with your future." He took her free hand and laced their fingers together. "So. Drink your champagne, have some more berries, and relax." It took a little while for her to relax, but he could tell when the nervousness left her. Her grip on the glass of champagne loosened a bit, her eyes sparkled a bit more. Finally, they both sat down next to each other on the bed, the nightstand in front of them. "Here, wait," he said as she reached out for another chocolate-covered strawberry. "What?" She watched, a little confused, as he picked up one of the fruits, removed the leaves, and held it up to her mouth. "You're . . . going to feed it to me?" Ian's smile was slow and a little wicked. "That's the plan." He waited as she leaned forward slightly, wrapping her lips around the sweet confection. Then, as her mouth closed over it but before she bit down, he leaned in and kissed her around the strawberry. Her eyes flew open for a moment in startlement, but she didn't pull away. Jennie kissed back, hesitant at first, but with growing interest and want, but Ian broke the kiss after a moment, biting through the strawberry before pulling back slightly. She chewed her piece of fruit slowly, then swallowed hard and asked, "What . . . I mean, what was that for?" "Well," he said, smiling at her and putting one hand over hers, "that's why we're here. It's not just for me to hear you, and be with you -- though that's very nice. It's to make sure that you have the best time you've ever had," he'd narrowly avoided saying 'the time of your life', which would have killed the mood in an instant, "and I thought that might be a good way to start." "Oh." Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and she nodded. "I guess that makes sense." Shyly, she leaned toward him, one of her hands going to his shoulder, and kissed him herself. Her lips were, like the rest of her, cool and soft, but delicate in their exploration of his mouth. She seemed to gain confidence when his hands slipped around her waist, and let her other hand go to his hair. He let her run her fingers through it, and kiss him at her own pace for a few moments before his arms tightened around her and pulled her closer. It was amazing, how real, how solid she felt. His hands roamed over her waist, a little frustrated by the layers of fabric and the corseting that kept him from feeling her skin. The light taste of strawberries and champagne on her lips alleviated that frustration and replaced it with another type. Ian pulled back slightly, his eyes opening to look at her flushed cheeks and pouty lips. "You look amazing, Jennie." Touching her face lightly, he kissed her again gently, before trailing his hand down to her shoulder, slipping one finger between where the fabric of her dress met her skin. "But you're wearing a great deal too much right now." Her cheeks colored even more brightly, and she licked her lips. "I . . . yes, you're right. I'm very warm." Her arms bent around her body, and started to work at the fastenings of her dress, and then she paused. "I wonder . . . ." She concentrated for a moment, her eyes squeezing shut, and the dress itself shimmered before vanishing. Blinking, Ian grinned at her. "That's a useful ability. We'll have to remember that for later." He put his hands on her waist again, feeling more of her body through the shift and corset without the stiff material of the dress over them. "But I still feel like you're over dressed," he whispered pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. How to Exercise a Ghost She didn't say a word this time, just focused her will and the hard feeling of the corset vanished, leaving her with a thin linen shift over her bare body. "Is this . . . I mean . . . this feels better." He smiled, nuzzling her neck. "Yes, it's much better. Stay like this for a while, I want to be the one who takes this last layer off." As his mouth closed, leaving a love bite on her neck, she murmured, "You're still fully dressed, you know. It's hardly fair." Ian pulled back and grinned at her. "I suppose you're right." He began to unbutton his shirt before stripping the white oxford from his shoulders. Her hands were there quickly, slipping hesitantly over his skin and muscles. Her touch was cool and soft, and grew bolder as she went on. He smiled at her, his hands sliding over the shift around her waist and then up slightly, brushing lightly against the undersides of her breasts. She gasped, her cheeks flushing a bit at the touch. But she didn't stop him, or do anything besides lean in to kiss him again, her mouth slightly open. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, and Jennie's eyes opened wide at the sensation. The shock passed, however, and she leaned into the kiss more deeply, opening her mouth wider and letting her tongue press and tangle with his. As she kissed him hungrily, Ian's hands slipped around and up, gently cupping each of her breasts. They weren't huge, but more than a handful and full and round. He could feel more than hear her soft moan as he began to fondle them, and pulled back from the kiss to watch her face as he ran his thumbs over her stiffening nipples. Her lips were kiss-swollen (and how did that happen, with no blood, he wondered idly) and her eyes half-closed with the pleasure as his hands shifted to knead the sensitive flesh more readily. "Ian," she breathed, "that feels . . . good." "That's the idea," he murmured, giving each delicate nub a light pinch. His hands left her breasts then, sliding down her sides to her waist and hips. She bit her lower lip, looking at him with uncertainty mixed with eagerness. "Lay down," he whispered, shifting his body to press against hers. She leaned back easily, lying back on the bed with her hair spreading out to form a frame around her face. The shift reached her knees, but moving around on the bed had pushed it up a little above them. Ian's hands slipped down from her hips to her knees, moving to stroke her legs before he lifted the hem of the shift up slightly. Jennie squeaked a little when he took hold of the fabric, but when he didn't move it much more than two inches up, she relaxed a bit. His hands stroked over her cool flesh, massaging and relaxing her gradually. She was so lost in the feel of his hands on her, warm and gentle, the she didn't notice he was slowly sliding the shift up and up until one of his fingers brushed over her mound. Her breath hitched, and he looked up at her, checking to be sure that she was all right. Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips, and she nodded. "I don't . . . go ahead." Her cheeks were blazing, but she reached down and lifted the fabric even higher up, displaying her pussy, bare of underpants, or, surprisingly, hair. "I would have thought you'd have, um, hair," he said hesitantly. One finger touched her center gently, just stroking over her labia. She nodded. "I do -- I mean, I did, but . . . ." Her eyes darted around, as though trying to find a different place to settle than his face. "But I saw some of those pictures you were looking at, and since I can, you know, sort of control how I show up . . . ." Ian nodded, his finger still moving lightly over her most private area. "You didn't have to, but thank you for doing that." He increased the pressure, slipping more firmly over her puffy slit before dipping between the lips briefly. Her eyelids fluttered at the feeling of someone touching her there, and he smiled slightly. "Did you like that?" he teased, breathing in the scent of her growing arousal. She smelled interesting, different. The usual muskiness he associated with women, but a smokiness and a bitter, licorice-y scent was underlying it as well. The effect of the spell, he assumed. She nodded, her eyes bright. "That felt . . . excellent. I don't . . . I'm not scared, really, but I'm nervous. If it feels like that, though . . . well." She reached down and stroked a hand over his hair, the only part of him she could reach. He grinned at her and went back to focusing on her body, fingers slipping over her lips faster, sliding between them more frequently, easing her into the pleasure. As he started to stroke between her labia more and more, brushing against her clit lightly every now and then, Jennie started to let out little squeaks and moans. As she let out a particularly loud moan, he bent his head forward and pressed a kiss to her sensitive nub. Her reaction was startling. Her body shuddered, and she almost spasmed at the touch. She let out a squeal, but didn't quite pull away. "Ian!" she gasped, her voice high and breathy. "Mmm?" he hummed, not moving his mouth. "You shouldn't . . . that place is . . . dirty, it's improper . . . ." Her words weren't very convincing, since she sounded trembly and hungry as she spoke. Ian pulled back slightly, rolling his tongue around her clit as he did. "That's not true. Well, okay, it's not something you'd do in front of your parents," he admitted at her disbelieving look, "but it's very common today." He ran a hand up her side, caressing her body. "And it felt good, didn't it? If you didn't like it, I'll stop." Her cheeks were red again. "I . . . did like it, but . . . ." She looked at him, her eyes conflicted. "You mean it, girls let people . . . do that?" Nodding, he nuzzled one of her legs. "Yes, really. Lots of girls let people do it, and they enjoy it." "Oh. Well. Okay, if you . . . want to," she said softly, her eyes almost glowing with curiosity and eagerness. Smiling up at her, he pressed his fingers more firmly against her, drawing a sighing moan from her lips, before pressing his own lips to her sex. He could feel the tension in her body as he kissed and nuzzled against her smooth, wet pussy, but kept going, knowing that the tension would soon be replaced with a different, better variety. And it was, and quickly. Maybe because she was inexperienced -- personally, at least; he didn't want to assume that, since she'd been dead she hadn't at least seen anything -- or maybe by nature, she was the most responsive woman he'd ever been with. In a short time, just a few licks and suckling kisses to her tender flesh, and she was moaning and writhing on the bed, kept in place only by his hands on her hips to hold her steady. She tasted like she smelled as well, the musky sweetness of a woman and a smoky not-quite-bitter flavor that was oddly like smoking a cigar. "Oh . . . ohhhhh, Ian," she whimpered, her hands moving over his hair and neck before clutching at the pillow under her head. "I don't . . . this feeling . . . God, something . . . huge coming . . .!" The rest of her words were lost in a near-silent cry of pleasure as she climaxed. Her body humped up onto his face, coating him with sticky wetness as he kept up his licking and suckling, prolonging her pleasure. "Nnnnng, that's . . . amazing, my God!" she murmured as she came down. "It certainly was," he teased as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You look amazing, you know." Jennie raised one hand to her disheveled hair, looking at him in disbelief. "I . . .do I?" Ian smiled and ran a hand up her waist. "Yes. You look incredible, so sexy and innocent." He kissed her gently, and she met him with enthusiasm. When the kiss broke, she looked at him with a confused expression. "That taste, is that . . ." her cheeks flushed brightly. "Is that me?" He nodded, and she licked her lips, almost as if she relished the taste. "I . . . never thought it would be good." He gave her another kiss, deeper and longer this time. "Of course it's good. It's you." He stood up and began to unbutton his pants. "But now, at least, you know it's not bad," he said easily, knowing she was watching every move he was making as he bent over to slide his trousers down his legs. She looked a little startled. "I guess you're right. It's . . . well, you know. A product of how I was raised, of course. Good girls get married and don't enjoy what . . . men and women do together." Her eyes were trying to avoid his crotch, but kept straying to the bulge in his boxers as though they were drawn there by a magnet. Unsure if it would be too bold, but deciding finally that there was nothing to be gained by being shy, Ian tugged his boxers down and stepped out of them. His cock sprang free, longer than average, and decently thick, but not huge. One of his exes had called it 'the perfect first dick', which he hadn't been sure how to take. Judging by Jennie's expression, though, that was all to the good. Her face was a mix of nervous and curious and eager all at once, and she reached out one hand almost tentatively, but stopped just before she touched it. His cock twitched, and she jumped a little. "It's okay," he said, taking her hand. "You can touch it, if you want. You certainly don't have to, but thinking about where we're going to end up, there's no reason to be shy." Her teeth caught her lower lip and she seemed to steel herself before reaching out to wrap cool, slender fingers around his shaft. He gasped at the light pressure, smiling encouragingly at her. "Your hand feels . . . so good, Jennie," Ian murmured. Her eyes were focused on it, and she whispered, "It feels so hot . . . hard and soft all at once." Jennie's tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. "So alive," she breathed, then looked up at him. She was startled by the expression on his face, so filled with hunger and pleasure. Her fingers moved slightly, and he gasped. She paused, then moved her fingers again, sliding up and down his shaft. Ian moaned, stroking her hair. "That's amazing . . . incredible," he murmured, resisting the urge to start fucking her hand. It would scare her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But goddamn, her hand felt great! She seemed almost amazed at the way he was responding, and when a glistening drop of precum appeared on the tip of his cock, Jennie hesitantly touched the drop, using the lubrication of it to ease the motion of her hand up and down over his shaft. Of course, that made him moan and caused more of the clear liquid to come out. After a few minutes, she paused and looked up at his face. "Ian, I . . . I mean, I don't know if I'm really ready, but I know . . ." her cheeks turned bright pink, but she managed to keep eye contact, "I know I want this." He smiled at her, the hand stroking her hair sliding down to caress her face. "That's really the hottest thing I think I've ever heard." He took a small step back, just enough that her hand slipped away from his cock. "And I promise, even though it might hurt a bit, I'll do my best to make sure you enjoy it. He bent down and kissed her, slipping his tongue along her lips for a second before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Jennie nodded. "All right. I trust you -- and you've certainly done this more than I have." She shifted a bit on the bed. "Um, so, speaking of that . . . I don't know how I should be . . . you know, positioned?" Turning to face her, Ian smiled. He leaned forward until he was looming over her, supported by his hands on either side of her head. "We'll start like this, with you on your back. Probably what you're most familiar with." One of his eyebrows went up. "No objections, or protests of your innocence?" She squirmed a bit. "I may have looked in on a few . . . encounters." Her chest heaved as she breathed, a little excited now. "So, yes, I suppose this is sort of traditional." As she spoke, her arms twined up and around his neck, pressing her upper body against his more firmly. And he realized that at some point, she'd made the thin shift she had been wearing vanish. "Bad girl," he breathed into her neck, nuzzling the skin there gently. "I told you I wanted to take that off." Jennie whimpered a bit as the head of his cock brushed against her thigh. "But you weren't taking it off, so . . . ." Her words were lost in a moan as his mouth found her breasts, his cock pressed for the first time against her entrance. Without even thinking about it, she wiggled a little, rubbing his shaft more firmly against her, moaning again at the feeling. Ian suckled on one of her nipples, teasing it and making her gasp -- and then, in mid-whimper, he shifted his hips and pushed inside of her. She cried out, more in surprise than at the mild sting that went with the intrusion. "Oh, god!" Her eyelids fluttered half-closed and she took a deep, shaking breath. "Feels . . . so wonderful, stretching me out in the best way." She bit her lower lip lightly, looking up at him with hot, hungry eyes as she felt him throb inside of her. "I . . . it's so big! And hot and . . . amazing, so good," she breathed. Her hands were stroking over his shoulders and back, feeling the muscles there shift as he adjusted his balance. Ian's face showed a great deal of focus, trying hard to control himself from just plunging into her over and over. "You feel incredible, you know. Tight, and warm but not hot and wet and slick . . . ." His fingers clenched, crumpling the sheets beneath her. "Tell me when you want more, Jennie. Because I . . . want to give it to you." She nodded, licking her lips. "I . . . I want more. I want this, I want you." He could feel her fingers dig into his shoulders lightly as she pulled herself closer to him, kissing him deeply. "Please," she whispered against his lips as she pulled back and settled against the pillows again. He looked down at her, eyes serious and assessing, trying to make sure that she was really ready. Then he smiled at her, leaned forward to press a kiss to her neck, and shifted his hips back, pulling halfway out of her before pausing and pushing back in, fucking into her slowly and deliberately. Her body was moving underneath him, not quite thrusting her hips up to meet him, but close, trying to get more of whatever the feeling coursing through her was. She wasn't sure how to do it, how to get that more, until he moved one hand to her hips, squeezing her breasts in the process, and guided her. With his hand guiding her, Jennie's hips started to move in a rhythm that matched Ian's, filling herself completely when his hips thrust forward. As soon as it became apparent that she had the motion down, he moved his hand again, not guiding her hips now, but between them, stroking his thumb over her clit, teasingly as his cock plunged into her over and over. He hadn't been sure if she would be into dirty talk, but as she started to get more into the sensations of sex, she started using words he had been sure she wouldn't know. "Ohhhh, Ian, that's so good! Your cock feels amazing fucking me!" Her head was thrown back, and she was clearly luxuriating in the way he was using and pleasing her body. "Mmm, shit, that's right, fill up my tight little quim!" Ian leaned forward and kissed her neck, then dragged his teeth gently over her skin, making her gasp. "Ohhhh, Jennie," he breathed in her ear, "I will, fill you up all the way, flood you with my cum." When her fingers twitched more tightly on his shoulders, he laughed and started to move faster, fucking into her faster and harder. She started to squeak with every thrust, her breasts bouncing with the force of his motion. His thumb kept up its pace on her clit, following the rhythm of his hips. It didn't take long after that for her to start trembling, her body beginning to spasm in pleasure as she climaxed. He pressed his lips to hers as she creamed, smothering the sound of her cry of pleasure with his mouth. It took a great deal of willpower not to cum himself when her body started to clutch and milk him, but Ian kept moving and kept a hold of himself, trying to make her orgasm last even longer. "That . . . fuck," she murmured, looking up at him with a slightly dazed expression. "And you didn't . . . Ian, please . . . I want you to feel that good, I want to give you that pleasure." Her eyes sharpened as she looked at him, shifting her hips a little to drive her body more firmly on his. "Please," the word was almost a whimper now. He wanted to give her what she was asking for, and right then. But that wouldn't be very romantic, and that was the whole point of tonight. So instead he grinned. "Okay, but you'll have to work a little for it." He made sure she was holding onto his shoulders tightly and rolled them over so that she was on top of him. She looked down at him with a curious, and slightly confused look. "I . . . okay. Like this, right?" she asked, shifting her hips again, grinding their hips together and stirring his cock inside of her, making it hit every part of her pussy. "Ooohhh, yes, like that," she gasped, her eyelids fluttering. He groaned at the sweetly sexy expression on her face. "God, yes, like that." He put his hands on her hips and guided her up and down once. "And like . . . that, fucking hell you feel good!" His hands stayed at her hips as she straightened up a bit, looking down at him as intently as any person doing an important task for the first time. Jennie's teeth caught her lower lip as she placed her hands on his chest and she lifted herself halfway up his cock. "Mmmmmm, yessss, like that," she moaned, letting herself drop back down. A few more experimental bounces, and she was moving like she'd been riding cocks for years, bouncing on him with abandon. His hands moved quickly to caress and cup her breasts as they bounced, fondling them and teasing the nipples gently. Her hips were moving confidently, and her expression of pleasure and power was making him struggle to keep from exploding inside of her immediately. Then he remembered her pleas for him to feel good, to climax for her, and gasped out, "Jennie, I'm . . . close, I'm gonna cum!" She nodded, hips still working. "Do it, please, Ian! I want to make you feel good, I want to feel your pleasure!" She leaned forward, kissing him hard, and the feel of her tongue slipping between his lips was enough, the knowledge of her new boldness, that it pushed him over the edge. Ian's hips thrust powerfully, arrhythmically, into her, spraying his seed into her body. She moaned as she felt it flood into her, the almost hot wetness of his cum filling her pussy as he came. "Yessssss, like that!" she cried out, her head thrown back at the feeling of it. Not quite as good as her own climax, but damn close. As they both came down from the feelings, he cradled her close to him, stroking a gentle hand down her back. "Oh, that was wonderful," he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of her hair. "When do you think, um, that you'll . . . you know." She shrugged. "I wish I knew. I guess since I didn't go already, it may be an at-dawn kind of thing?" He settled in more comfortably on the bed, feeling a strange contentment when she nestled next to him. "Well, that's all right, then." Jennie lifted her head a looked at him, a mischievous grin on her face. "It also means that we've got the rest of the night to do that again!" ~~~~ It had been an exhausting -- but very, very pleasurable -- night, and Ian slept in until almost ten the next morning. He hadn't really wanted to see Jennie disappear at down, so he had pleaded exhaustion and crashed out around 5:30. He woke up the next morning feeling a lot less . . . down than he'd anticipated, and stretched as he got out of bed. The room smelled like roses and strawberries and . . . coffee. Why did his house smell like coffee? He hadn't been downstairs to make any, and no one else had a key. How to Exercise a Ghost Pausing to tug on a pair of pajama pants and grab the baseball bat he kept by the bed, Ian headed downstairs, not really daring to hope what he was already hoping. As he hit the bottom step, he heard a feminine voice muttering about "this damned technology, all I want is to make a cup of coffee!" and stopped dead. He proceeded slowly, the bat hanging more or less forgotten at his side. Ian stepped into the doorway of the kitchen and just stared. Jennie was standing, wearing a cotton nightgown trimmed with lace and glaring at the coffee maker venomously. "Jennie? How are you still here?" She looking up, a little guiltily, and gave him a sheepish smile. "I wish I knew. But I guess I'm going to be here a while longer. But look!" She grabbed a coffee cup off of the counter. "I'm still solid! So we can have coffee and . . . talk about what to do now." He walked over to her and plucked the cup from her fingers, setting it back on the counter. "I know what I want to do now, but . . ." he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, "we should talk, too." Ian leaned down and kissed her deeply before pulling back. "In a little while, we'll talk."