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Ghost Lover

By: Angel



Silent and brooding, you stand alone, the darkness penetrated only by the dancing flame of a single candle.

You stand, one strong hand on a slender hip, the other tangled in the black silk of your hair. You stand alone, your dark eyes staring, unfocused into an abyss of nothing.

I am there watching you, but you don't see me. I'm so close I can feel your sweet breath wash over me, sending a chill up my spine...but you don't know I'm there.

You are so handsome, here, alone with only the shadows caressing your face. I lightly brush my fingertips over the rough flesh of your cheek, the pure desire to touch you too strong now to resist.

You turn, ever so slightly, your eyes staring directly where I stand, and still...you don't see me.

I breathe your name so softly, aching for you to hear me...see me... touch me. But my voice is like the wind...whispering through your senses like a faded memory of what I used to be.

I wrap my arms around you, yearning to give you the comfort you need, but it's not the same. I hold you so close, I can feel your heartbeat...feel the warmth of your flesh, and you don't know I'm there.

I stay there, holding you, my mind wandering back to the last time we were together, not so long ago. The same dark room, the same candle lit, the same light breeze wafting aimlessly through the sliding door. The same dark silk sheets on the bed.

You were standing alone, as you are now, looking out into the night. I came to you then, as now, wrapping my arms around you. Only then you knew I was there. You turned and held me. Held me so tightly, I ache now wishing for the memory to become real. Your lips brushed softly against mine, feather-light, but still sending a searing hot wave of passion through my body.

My heart breaks with the memories of your kiss, your gentle touch leading me to the bed. You laid me down so gently, covering me with kisses. My soul burns with the recollection of your entry into me. Your hardness pressing, joining..burning into my softness with an urgency we’d never felt before.

I feel now what I felt then. Your skin hot and silky as you moved with me, slowly rocking your hips in motion with mine. My legs wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you deeper and deeper with every stroke. I can still feel the pleasure of your mouth, sucking, biting down my neck, your hands stroking, caressing my breasts.

My body tightens and I gasp, my climax sending my senses into overdrive, the feeling second only to the soul-wrenching orgasm we shared in my reminiscence of us. 

I sigh, my body hot and dripping wet and pull away from you. You turn to me, your eyes open wide, and pain turns to joy as I realize that you see me now. Your body trembles as you reach for me, your skin slick with sweat and sticky with your juices. I smile and reach out for you, but for nothing...

With tears in your eyes you watch me, as I am pulled away. My own tears are falling, but I can’t feel them anymore, the warm embrace of the white light kissing them away.

Ghost Lover



Gail Locksley Running Horse lay alone in her bed. Her second husband David had the children at his parents' home on the Lakota Reservation. The family left two weeks ago. Her loins felt as empty as the house and bed. 

Gail drifted off to sleep missing her first, murdered husband Fred. He knew ways that Gail wanted sex that David would not consider. A movement in the room woke Gail. The light of the full moon left few dark spots in the bedroom. She heard the sound of footsteps in the corner. She looked and saw no one there. The sound continued. 

The measured tread struck a hidden memory. It was the same pace used by her dead husband. It was used when he knew Gail did not want to make love, or even have sex. It was when she wanted to be violated, abused, raped.

Gail lay under the sheet. The measured steps came closer. Now she could hear his breathing. It was the sound of lust and power over a woman. No, it was a dream. Fred was murdered four years ago. As much as she missed him in that time, she never used her witch's powers to bring him back. He was at peace.

So it was a dream. She dreamt Fred was standing over her. His labored breath was loud in her ears. 

Gail learned she was not dreaming when her quilt was pulled from her bed. Fear invaded her mind. She could not see her attacker. Was it an enemy using an invisibility charm? 

The force rolled her over on her back. A spirit hand covered her mouth and nose. She was on the edge of passing out. The hand moved and she gulped air into her lungs. The sound of ripping cloth made her look down.

Her nightgown ripped from top to bottom. This exposed her breasts, belly and groin. The spirit rolled her on her belly and pulled her gown down to tangle her arms, a technique used by cops for ages. 

Gail was rolled back to a face up position. She tried to get up and was struck with a backhanded blow.

"If you want to suffer as little pain as possible, you better do as you are told."

Mother Goddess, it was Fred. His life essence was back. Gail almost had an orgasm just wondering if it was true are a very real dream.

Gail suddenly realized what she missed with David. David was a gentle man with a gentle touch. David took his time to bring Gail to her orgasms. 

Fred was the same way. But, there were times when Gail wanted, and needed violence, abuse, even rape. Fred filled these desires, almost to the point of injury. And Gail loved him for it. This did not happen often, but they did happen.

Gail struggled again. This earned her another slap in the face. Her heart quickened with the pain. A small coppery taste told her the last blow split her lips. 

One invisible hand again covered her mouth; another hand grabbed her pubic hair. The ghost of her Fred kneeled on the bed. She felt hot breathe on her face. The hand came off her mouth What started as a kiss ended as teeth biting into her cheek and lips. She tried to bite back. The hand returned to her mouth. She tried to bite it. She felt flesh between her teeth, though she did not see any hand. She bit harder, and blood flowed from the hand. The hand in her groin yanked on her hair. The pain made her stop. It also convinced her this was no dream.

"You fucking cunt," came Fred's voice from nowhere. "You parade your body in front of me every day and never think of what it does to me. You tease me and ignore me. It's payback time, bitch."

Gail tried to scream with the pain as Fred chewed on her nipple. His teeth tried to bite it off. The pain stopped then returned on the other nipple.

Gail watched as her nipple stretched from her breast. There was nothing pulling on it yet there was, being extended almost to being torn off. Gail proved that there is a fine line between pain and pleasure. She had an orgasm while tears of pain streamed down her face.

"You liked that, did you, bitch?" The combination of pain and pleasure allowed Gail to only nod.

Invisible hands pulled her ankles apart. Cords appeared. They wrapped around her ankles, tying her to the corners of the bed. The angle of her legs painfully exposed her. She felt a slight breeze on her clit. 

She felt movement on the bed. Teeth replaced the breeze. The sudden pain caused another orgasm. Gail's back arched, more pain, and more pleasure. Gail looked between her tits. She thought she saw a figure forming, a head appearing in her groin. It was the gauzy translucent head of her dead husband.

"Fred"

"Don't talk to me while I'm eating, cunt."

The ghost Fred used his tongue in Gail's pussy and his fingers in her ass. 

"By the Goddess Moon, I've missed this, my lover and master."

"That Indian not savage enough for you?"

"He would… never think… of doing this."

Gail saw her dead man fully formed at the foot of the bed. He stood there with his cock fully hard. Gail wanted it in her. She wanted to be helplessly impaled by his spear.

"Please, Fred. Shove that in me. Fill me with your cum."

Fred kneeled between her thighs. The tip of his cock touched the rim of her pussy. He did not move. Gail humped her hips barely touching him. There was contact, but it teased both. 

The Fred ghost lunged onto Gail's body. His shaft penetrated the full length in one movement. His weight on her mashed Gail onto her hands, still trapped under her. It took only four thrusts of Fred's hips to bring them to a joint orgasm. Unintelligible screams came out of both mouths. That stopped when they passionately kissed. Gail felt Fred's heart pounding against her own.

Fred rolled off his wife's body. He untied her feet. He helped her sit up and removed the torn gown from her arms. 

Fred went to the bathroom, started filling the bathtub. He took up Gail, carrying her to the tub. He placed her in the water.

The warm water soothed the battered body of his lover. The water contained herbs and plants Gail taught him that would heal the bruises and cuts she received. 

Fred was now the complete opposite of the ghost in the bedroom. It was this dual personality that made Gail take him as a lover and husband. Fred was a minister of the Carpenter's Gospel, the New Religion that replace the Old Faith that Gail practiced. 

Gail held Fred's hand. It had been so long since her lover violated her this way. This one last time would stay with her, because it would be the last time.

"I've missed you so, Fred." 

"I've missed you, Gail."

Fred's hand moved to her lower belly.

"I'm leaving you something to mark this night. As David gave you Aurora that Night of the Feather, I give you a child."

Gail fell asleep in the tub. She awoke the next morning in her bed. Alone.

The night was a vivid dream. Or was it? She remembered Fred told her he impregnated her. Gail searched her womb. Indeed, there was a life growing there; a life just a few hours after conception.



Ghost Lover



"Where do you want this sir?" the scruffy mover asked me as he held the multi pattern lamp in his large hand.

"Be careful with that," I said to him. "It's worth more then you make in a year. Just put it there on that table."

The man rolled his eyes, uncaring to what I just said to him. That lamp was priceless, a symbol to my good fortune at the law firm I work in. I had been on a lucky role, won many high profile cases that netted me a nice sum of money and allowed me to upgrade my way of life. I bought a new house in the outskirts of New York City, gorgeous furniture and two new cars. Life had been good to me and all I could see was the top.

I walked through the dimly lit hallway and saw at the grand purchase I just made. I felt good about myself; I made it from a poor kid from midtown New York to a big time hotshot lawyer in the greatest city in the world.

Rain chattered on the rooftop; thunder and lightning followed as I walked through the house. I opened every door, peeked inside the rooms and saw what is in them. I made a mental note to myself to get furniture for them as I moved on the next. 

I reached the den. Pair of large, hand carved wooden doors was locked. I remembered the key the realtor had given me and I dug in my pockets for them. I fiddled with it and opened the door. 

It was immaculate. The room had stayed with its old 19th century furniture. Only the modern lamps were any signs of technology in it. I walked around, tried each of the five hand crafted lamps and only the last one in a far corner table turns on. I made another note to myself to get more light bulbs.

I walked to the large wall covering bookshelves. Classic books filled the shelves as I read the titles. I heard the rain splatter on the large windows. I walked over to them and looked out the rain-covered windows. A small patio stood on the other side of the large door like windows. I smiled and nodded, "I love this place."

The crackle of lightning lit up the room. I looked away and noticed a painting of a lady on the wall. I walked up to it and the lighting was not good enough for me to see who it was. 

I went back to the working lamp to change the bulb. It was hot so I took off my t-shirt and unscrewed it. I walked back to the lamp nearest the painting and screwed the working bulb back on for more lighting on the painting.

She was gorgeous. I mean an exquisite looking lady. She had a rosy colored skin and lovely crimson red lips. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, piercing with a loving smile to soften them.

The dress looked from the early forty's and she was just an adorable woman. Her bosom formed into white globes, pressed together to form a magnificent cleavage. The light blue, like her eyes, dress fell just below her knees. It hugged her cello like figure perfectly. The eyes on the painting mesmerized me.

I caught myself as I stared at her, at the painting. Thoughts ran through my head, none of them made sense but I just shook it off as weariness. I was tired and needed to sleep soon. I turned the light off and walked out. Before I closed the door I looked back at the painting but the room was too dark to really see her lovely face. Lightning lit the sky and the room. It allowed me one final glance at her features. "Beautiful," I mumbled as I closed the door behind me.

The day had been long, all the furniture had been settled and all I had to do was unpack the boxes. I am too tired to continue so I decided to go to bed. I took a warm shower and enjoyed the hot water break up the tenseness in my muscles. I needed that shower, and I know my body and mind will welcome the sleep.

I walked out of the shower and opened the window a little to get some fresh air. The warm summer night was wonderful out there, no smog, no pollution, and no sirens blared like in New York City. 

I climbed into bed, smiling at my good fortune. I turned off the lights and rolled over under the covers. I was fast asleep while the night breeze chilled the room. Comfortable.

"What the hell was that?" I woke up, standing straight up in the bed. A howling noise filled the entire house as I looked around the room. "Man! There aren't any wolves out here?

"There it is again?" I said to myself. I reached by my bed; I always kept an aluminum bat nearby. I raised it as I walked towards the door. 

Slowly I opened the door, crept outside and looked down the hallway. "Damn I must've been dreaming. I am the only one here."

I chuckled at myself, jumpy like a scared woman. I walked back in the room and lay back down. I crawled under the covers and began to fall asleep again. 

"Who are you?" a soft womanly voice asked. "Why are you here?"

I opened my eyes, fear settled in my stomach. I lay there frozen, stiff as a board. I whimpered, "Who is there?"

"Who are you? Why are you here?" The seductive whisper asked again.

"Uh? My name is Ramon, what is your name?" I asked not leaving the false safety under the blanket. 

"I am Delilah. I live here, this is my home."

I got up with that answer to see who the invader to my home was. I swung the covers towards the voice in order to trap the person; I missed atleast I thought I did. I looked around; the room is empty. 

I shook my head. "I must be fucking dreaming."

"I am Delilah. Please to meet you Ramon. Why are you in my home?"

"Who the hell said that?" I yelled as I grabbed the bat and stood up on the bed. I searched around the room, looking for a woman to step out of the darkness any minute. No one was there and I felt my stomach turn with fear. I bounced on the bed with every sound the old house makes. "Show your self damn it!!!"

She appeared as a silhouette. Delilah, the beauty in the picture was a ghost. I stared in shock and fear. My tan complexion slowly turned pale, a sickening feeling took over me as I slumped to my knees on the bed. My eyes never left the flowing ghostly sight of her. She just hovered over me, smiling the way she did in the picture.

"What's your name handsome," she teasingly asked me as she glided closer to me with a hand ready to touch me.

My skin crawled as I see her approach closer. "Uh my name," damn I had forgotten my own name. "Ummm my name, yeah I am Ramon. Ramon Lopez."

"Nice to meet you Ramon," she replied with a wider grin. "May I ask what you are doing in my home Ramon?"

A puzzled look came to my face. I wasn't sure what she meant by her home, but I do know this is my home now. "I just bought this home. It's mine and I am moving in." 

"You did now. I think you should know this house has been in my family for generations. We have lived here for over a hundred years. I was raised here, as were my children."

"Your children? What were I mean are your children's names?"

"Jonathan Junior and Maria Thomas."

I giggled as I grew accustom to the sight of her above me. "Jonathan Thomas IV was the guy who sold the house to me. I think your great grand children were the ones who sold the house to me."

"Did they now? I think they lost their way. This is a beautiful house."

"Yes it is," I said agreeing with her perception on the house. The neighborhood was great, near the beach and a large piece of real estate to have.

"You seem like a nice man Ramon."

"Thank you," I answered as I watch her float closer to me. I shivered and moved back in the bed while I tried to avoid contact with her. What a badass man I am, afraid of a sweet old ghost.

"You are very attractive too Ramon. I have always been fascinated with dark men. I've never been with one mind you, my family forbade it. But I always wanted one, had to know what it felt to have the heated passion my friends always talked about when I was," she paused for a moment, reminiscing of a time long ago, "alive."

I watched a tear drop. I never thought a ghost could cry, guess they have feelings too. "I promise to keep your home the way it is," I don't know why I said that but it came out and made her smile.

"Thank you Ramon. I ask for only one thing. The den, where my painting is, please keep it like it is. If anything I would hate to see anything happen to that room, it is, was my favorite."

I nodded, "I love that room. I will leave it as it is."

The next few weeks passed and the house was always immaculate while the den was left the same. Delilah and I spent nights talking about each other's pasts and dreams. We became closer, funny thing a human and a ghost becoming closer. 


We shared everything and sometimes when I walked in from a long day of work, she would have the home smelling like bakery. I would walk into the kitchen and there would be freshly baked bread or pies on the stovetop waiting for me. 

She even learned to enjoy my kind of music. I would play jazz and at first she did not care for it too much. She would lower the volume or turn off the stereo or eject the CD like a Frisbee, but now she enjoyed it especially when I played Miles Davis or John Coltrane. She preferred the oldies more then the newer jazz. A picky ghost as well, but she was nice.

After a night out, I came home with my good friend, Tonya. We had a nice night together and we decided to go my home for a nightcap. She's never been to my home, so I decided to show her around. We sat in the den; drank some wine while soft music played in the background. 

Two candles illuminated the den setting a sensual mood for us. We sat together and begin to kiss passionately. I held her, touched her and kissed some more. 

Then she appeared, hovered behind her, just out of her sight. She had a wicked look on her face. I stared at her, eyes wide as I waved trying to get her to leave, but she did not have any of that. 

She opened the window and a cold breeze crept in as the curtains flowed. Tonya shook from the cold. "Want me to close the window?" I asked her.

"No it is fine," she answered as snuggled up closer to me on the large couch. She wrapped her arms around my arm and cozy up to me as I extended my other arm over her shoulders and held her closer.

Tonya kissed me tenderly on my lips and rested her head on my shoulder. I smiled and realized that Delilah was nearby again. I looked at her as she stared back, fury in her eyes. Jealousy was burning through her as she floated by the candles, making the sway beneath her movement. 

I motioned her away with my head. She put her head down and rushed through the room as the wind trails her and blew out the candles. 

Tanya asked, "I got a chill. Can we close the windows?"

I nodded, not believing what I had seen. I stood and walked to the windows, closed them and led Tonya to my room.

We entered the room, kissing and groping each other. Our clothes flew off our bodies; our lips and hands never left the other's flesh. Her succulent skin exposed to my eyes. I touched her, felt her warmth, kissed her lips and caressed her breasts.

We lay together, touching, feeling, stroking and teasing. She made her move and lowered her head to my waist. She left a wet trail with her tongue down the center of my chest to the top of my pelvis.

She stroked my stiff cock, slowly and placed soft wet kisses on the tip. Her mouth opened and took the head in. I felt the swirl of her tongue around the head; the sensation made me arch my back in pleasure. She raised her head and went back down as she took me deep into the back of her throat. I could feel her throat open and close as she tried to take my full length, and she succeeded.

She sucked me mightily, took every inch deep into her mouth. I held her long hair in my hands, guided her bobbing head on my cock. She moaned as she felt me grow in her mouth and my hands gripped her hair tighter. Her hands played with my large cum filled balls. She rolled them between her fingers, heightening the sensation I felt in my loins.

I pulled her head off me; the sensation of her mouth drove me too close to orgasm. I returned the favor as I laid her on her back. I placed my hands below her knees and raised them in the air. Her feet rested on the bed as I slowly, methodically kissed up her calves and down her thighs. She shivered with each wet kiss. I brushed my teeth over the sensitive area of her thighs, grazing it, nibbling it as she yelped with pleasure.

I lowered my face into her warm, wet, sweet spot. She felt my hot breath on her, moaned and cooed as my hot breath entered her pussy. She put her hand on the back of my head, held it steady as she felt my breathing on her saturated pussy. 

I looked up from between her thighs and smiled wickedly, "you want me to eat this pussy good huh?"

She just nodded and mumbled yes to me. I stuck my tongue out and softly ran it up and down her swollen lips. She shuddered upon contact, her pussy got wetter with every stroke. I licked her like she was ice cream; my stiff tongue parted her lips and entered her core.

She began to yell, "OH GOD! YESSSS! EAT MY FUCKING PUSSY!!!!"

I did as she asked and ate her like never before. I released her legs and licked her as my fingers entered her warm hole. I slipped first one finger as my tongue circled her engorged clit. Then I entered a second, touching her inner walls and encircled her clit with my lips. 

Then I finally entered a third, slightly curved my fingers upward as I tried to rub her upper inner wall. My lips wrapped tightly around her clit and began to suck on it. My fingers began to quicken their rhythm in and out of her as she bucked on my pounding fingers. 

I sucked harder on her clit as she began to shake vigorously on the bed. She wailed her pleasure in one final, orgasmic scream as she drenched my lips and waiting tongue with her pussy juice. She shook as I continued to slowly lick her puffy lips. Her breathing was stammered as she tried to regain her senses.

I noticed she was subsiding from her orgasmic bliss so I rose up from between her thighs. I grabbed her ankles and kissed the bottom of her soles softly as she giggled. "Stop that." 

I smiled and grabbed my swollen cock and slowly slid it in her. She winced as the head spread her wet opening. She started to pinch and roll her nipples between her fingers as I pushed myself completely in her. She rolled them harder the deeper I went as she began to moan loudly. I pumped my manhood deep in her, smacking my balls against her ass and she began to scream, "OH FUCK RAMON!!! FUCK ME!!! YESSS!!! FUCK ME!!!!"

I obliged by rocking back and forth into her. I felt her pussy grab onto me and milk me for everything I had. I continued to buck like a mad man as I tried to pound her into submission.

Then I noticed her, Delilah. She floated by me, next to me, behind me, and felt on my sweaty body. I could feel her cold touch on my sweaty, heated body. Her icy lips touched my cheek and a chill ran down my spine and straight through to my balls. The sensation freaked me out as I yelled and exploded gushing out a load deep into Tonya. I kept cumming as I pushed deeper in Tonya as Delilah continued kissing my lips, shoulders and chest. 

Tonya's eyes were closed as she felt her own orgasm build and release again. She shook and whimpered as I pressed my body into her thighs, pushing my deflating manhood deeper into her pussy.

Tonya then opened her eyes and watched in fear as Delilah kissed me passionately. I returned the kiss, unaware that Tonya was watching us in our lip to lip embrace. The heated cold of her lips was mesmerizing as well as different. She had me hooked by a kiss and I couldn't release the hold.

Tonya screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!!!" She pulled away from me, cum dripping from her pussy onto the bed sheets. My cock began to grow hard from the frigid kiss from Delilah's lips. 

I broke off the kiss as I came to my senses and the bliss of my orgasm subsided. I was dumbfounded as I looked into Delilah's cold stare and cheerful but wicked smile. I then turned to Tonya as she pulled the blankets to cover herself with a terrified look on her face. 

"Ramon! What the fuck is that? And why, why did she kiss you?" her voice stuttered as she asked me these questions. 

Delilah caressed my face with a soft chilling stroke of her hand and I sensed she was upset when she stared into my eyes. She floated up, lifting me from my knees to my feet as her hand remained on my face. She let go as and vanished through the ceiling and out of the room.

I kept staring up to the ceiling, watched for Delilah's return. Something about that kiss made me think there may be more then that. It felt good kissing her, maybe deep inside I wanted her kiss some more.

"Ramon! Ramon! You fucking hear me damn it?" Tonya was yelling as she tried to get my attention. She still trembled from the entire ordeal. 

I looked down at her, almost oblivious that she was still there. I dropped to my knees and then on my stomach as if my life was drained from me. I listened to my heartbeat as Tonya's voice called my name repeatedly. She was scared, shaken but I had no answers for her as her voice sounded distant and muted. 

"Fine I am leaving this place," she yelled as she kicked my shoulders and stood off the bed. The blue moonlight created a heavenly glow around her dark skin as she stood in front of the window. Her breasts hung as she bent over to pick up her clothes. 

She began to walk towards the door and I screamed, "STOP!!!" I finally regained my strength and senses. The kiss from Delilah was not only sensational but also draining. I began to imagine what if we had gone further and I shuddered from the thought. I quickly stood up off the bed lightheaded as the blood rushed back to my head.

I got closer to Tonya as she coward away from me. She had every right; I would've done the same if the roles were reversed. I reached out to her, hoping she would allow me to try and explain. She just looked at me, the moonlight danced off her body, and she took my hand. She was upset, I can tell from her facial expressions, but she was also as dumbfounded as I was.

"She is a friend." Damn that sounded believable but it was all I can come up with after what happened. Tonya looked at me, fire in her eyes as she began to breath hard and ready to strike me like a snake. 

"What the hell you mean a friend? She is a fucking ghost? My God! A FUCKING ghost Ramon?" she yelled as she pulled her hand away from me. "Have you fucked a ghost? Oh shit, you son of a bitch you fucked a fucking ghost didn't you!"

"NO! I didn't fuck any ghosts! I swear!" I answered, furious at the insinuation she had of me. 

"Then why the hell she kiss you for!" Her fear subsided and now anger and disgust began to take over. 

"I don't know," I answered solemnly as I lowered my head. My voice got lower; more relaxed and confused, "I honestly don't know."

"Well if you want a piece of some ghost's ass then you can go get it from…from, oh fuck what's her fucking name?"

"Delilah," I whispered softly.

"Fuck and she got a fucking name. Next thing I know she has a picture in the house too huh!"

"Well," I started to say it, "nothing."

"Oh man Ramon, I ought to," she stopped herself from threatening me. She got her clothes, began to dress herself and walked out the door, barefoot.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hands on my face, in thought of what happened. I shook my head as I felt the chill from Delilah's kiss resurface in my memory. "Damn," I mumbled to myself. 

"RAMON!!!!!!!!!" Tonya screamed from down the hall. I ran out the room naked, unaware of what I will see. 

I stood in the hallway, ten feet from Tonya as she looked at Delilah hover above her. Tonya was scared again, her voice timid as she called out my name, "Ramon."

"Ramon, tell her who I am," Delilah said as her voice sounded louder then any other time before. She looked my way, eyes icy blue as her so-called robe floated effortlessly around her. 

I walked slowly towards Tonya, taking her hand and not letting go of my stare on Delilah. "Come on Tonya, get up. Help me out here and get up."




Ghost Lover



Tonya got up and I walked her to the living room. I helped her sit on the couch and tried to calm her shaking body down. She just trembled frantically as she began to sob uncontrollably. 

Delilah floated over to me, my red terry cloth robe in hand. She placed it over my shoulders as I tried to console Tonya. I looked at Delilah, "what did you do?"

"Nothing," she answered as she turned away from me. 

"Delilah! What did you do?" I was stern this time. I never had been this stern with her before.

She turned around, glanced at me and put her head down as she floated away and into the den.

"Ramon. What is going on?" Tonya asked me in a shaky voice.

"Well, let me explain it to you…" I commenced to explain the entire story of Delilah to Tonya. Her eyes grew with every bit I told her. She began to calm down more as I continued telling her everything Delilah and I talked about. 

Tonya stood and took my hand, "I will see you tomorrow."

I watched confused. I just knew she would never speak to me again, but I guess I underestimated her. 

I walked into the den after Tonya left and called out for Delilah. She didn't answer me nor appear. I grew furious and wanted her to come out but she still didn't answer.

I got tired from everything that happened and walked back to my room, flung the robe to the ground and crawled into the bed. I laid there and stared into the ceiling as I replayed the events of the night. 

I finally started to drift off to sleep when I looked over at the clock; the red glow of the numbers showed 4:12 am and I mumbled, "Damn glad it's the weekend." I quickly went to sleep after that.




That Morning…

I slept through the day; the sun shined brightly through the window. I felt a familiar chill on me, this time on my entire body. I felt myself in a sexual euphoria as lips and hands touched me all over. I was in a trance, motionless, as I thought I was having a wet dream.

I felt my cock devoured by a cold mouth, as if this person had eaten ice mints. I quivered as from the ice cold feel of her mouth shoot through my cock throughout my body. I gasped for air as the sensation ran through me. I felt the air grow cold around me as my body froze to the bed. I shivered from the wintry feel of the lips. I exhaled as the sensation was released through my warm breath.

Her hair felt like icicles across my stomach and hips. I reached down to feel who was there but grabbed nothing but cold air. I opened my eyes, to see if the sensation would go away. I tried to shout but the feel of Delilah's lips had taken over my senses. 

I was spellbound by the sight of the translucent body of Delilah, naked on my legs as her head bobbed on my engorged cock. Her ass stuck up in the air, pearly white, round and beautiful as she kneeled between my thighs. Her tongue wrapped around my fully grown cock as her mouth took him in. The cold feel of her mouth drove me to the brink of an orgasm a few times, but she expertly stopped me each time. How? To this day I still don't know.

She stops and floated up above me. She stared down at my naked flesh and smiled a soft gentle grin. She spread her legs and lowered herself just above my twitching cock. I held him between my fingers as I aimed my cock up to her pussy. She spread her pussy's labia and stroked a finger across the cool slippery flesh inside her pussy.

I watched intently as she rubbed herself as I thought to myself and watched my ghostly friend above me fingering her pussy. She moaned and howled as her head thrashed back and her chest heaved. I felt her ghostly orgasm drip on me, on the tip of my cock. It was cold, bitter chill covered it as I was glued to her pussy and fingers.

She came down, lowered herself on my dick until my cock's head entered her. It was just as I thought, cold yet slick with an icy wetness. I shook as if I were naked in the cold and watched her lower herself on me completely. She floated up and down, rhythmically, like no other woman I had been with. I could only gawk at her body's movement while the frosty stimulation of her movement reverberated through me. 

She reached down, fingered herself as she kept on her steady pace. I tried to hang on to her hips, but had no success since her ghostly presence had no solid form. She raised her finger to her lips and savored her salty-sweet yet cold womanly flavor. She smiled as she began a more vigorous outing.

Then the unexpected, I was completely into the ride when I felt my balls tighten as I released my cum through my shaft. She pumped harder, faster as her feet hovered off the bed and me. 

I moaned, "OH FUCK! I AM ABOUT TO CUM!!!"

She smiled and touched my chest. Her hand felt like if they were dipped into ice water. I yelled as she touched me, cold covered my body as I shivered from the freezing touch. I couldn't move, I had been frozen, not literally but definitely I couldn't move, as my orgasm continued to build deep within me.

Finally, my explosion happened. It gushed out of me for what seemed like a gallon of sperm. I kept shooting deep into her icy crevice. The warmth of my orgasm set Delilah off to her own ghostly orgasm as she came with a fervor and fury. I felt Delilah's own juices flow down on to my balls, causing a mini orgasmic sensation to creep through my balls to my spine. 

I shivered and shook uncontrollably to the best orgasm I had since I first lost my virginity. I may have blackened out but I can't remember but I know I came a lot. 

The orgasm subsided slowly as my body began to regain its color. I noticed Delilah above me as she floated aimlessly with a large grin on her face. She seemed to be in sexual heaven from where I laid. 

She came down to me, lay beside me, and kissed my lips softly, "you don't need her with me around Ramon. I can do things to you like no other woman, alive or dead can."

She said that with a straightforward and serious face. She sat up as I watched her rise. She turned in a blur, so fast I didn't notice and she was on top of me, kissing me. The wintry feel I felt earlier returned as her entire being covered me, became one with me. She kissed me and whispered softly, "leave her for me lover."

It took all my might to roll out from under her and I fell off the bed with a loud thump. She giggled as she floated off the bed to my side. "You ok baby?"

I grabbed my head as I felt the growing lump from the fall, "yeah I am ok." 

I never answered her, just stood up and walked away. "I need to get ready. I have to talk to Tonya."

Delilah grew furious; her appearance seemed to become larger as I watched through the mirror. I grabbed a towel and went into the bathroom, started the shower to a balmy steam. She screeched loudly and disappeared through the door.

I shrugged, a little scared, and entered the hot bath. My body still felt the effects of her icy cold touch. The warmth of the water surrounding my body made me feel better. I relaxed after a while; the hot water warmed my body and made me feel better, more at ease. 

I placed my hands on the shower wall and lowered my head to the ground. The water ran off my back and down between my ass and legs. I breathed hard, fast, gasped for air. "My God what is happening?"

Later that day

I arrived back home after a long drive. I needed that to clear my head and figure out what had happened and how far I need to let it go. "Delilah! Come out here!" I yelled as I tried to get her to come out. "Come out here now!"

Delilah appeared from under the floor. She startled me, as the cold chill that follows her crept up my shirt to my skin. I turned, faced her at eye level. "Look. What was all that about last night?"

"I…I…Ramon I am sorry," she sounded sincere as her voice lowered as her eyes turned to the ground. "I was jealous," she whispered.

"You were what? What the hell you mean jealous?" A perplexed look comes to my face.

"I am sorry, it will not happen again." Her eyes never stopped looking at the ground.

"You are damn right it won't!" I felt bold now. I stepped closer to her, I felt her chill grow the closer I got. 

"I am sorry Ramon," her melancholy voice spoke softly as she looked into my eyes now.

I felt sorry for her. She only wanted to feel loved. She has gone through so many years of neglect when she was alive and here I am, doing the same things her husband did as well, bring women to her home and fuck them. 

She told me this after those nights we talked. She divulged her life, her past, her wants and needs of the time. She cried many nights reminiscing those days. Those days were rough ones, she loved her husband but his infidelity and blatant disrespect to her home made her a bitter woman. She killed her husband for what he did, and now she wanted to repay that debt by making me happy in every way possible.

I felt like shit coming down on her so hard. I consoled her, as much as anyone can console a ghost. I would've never thought a ghost could have feelings, I guess I was wrong.

"Ramon, I would like to meet and get to know your friend," she asked me. 

My eyebrow rose like Mr. Spock. "Why?" that was all I could say.

"I want her to know I am not a threat to her or you. I want you both to know it."

I thought about it, pondered it in my mind. I picked up the phone and dialed Tonya's number. The phone rang. 

"Hello?" Tonya's voice was on the end; she sounded so sweet, just as always. Never thought that she would be the vixen she was.

"Hey baby. It's me Ramon, you still talking to me?" I asked her as I waited for her to yell and hang up the phone.

"Yeah I am. I am still pissed."

"Yeah I know but wait a second ok. I want you to meet her." 

"WHAT?" she yelled on the phone as it pierced into my ear and made me pull the phone away. "What the fuck you mean about me fucking talking to her?"

"Baby wait," I tried to plead to her.

"Look as long as she is in that fucking house you can forget about me and my ass!!!" She hung up the phone after that and all I can do was slump my head and hang the phone up.

"She will not come," Delilah said. "I am sorry Ramon."

"It's ok," I answered as I stood up and walked to my room.

"Do you want dinner?"

"No. I will be leaving in a little while any way. I will get something when I am out."

That evening…

It was eerily quiet when I walked into the house. I strolled through the spacious living room and heard a distinct moan. I figured it was the old house settling or the dog next door and proceeded to the kitchen. 

"Oh Delilah," a female voice moaned loudly, clearly heard by me.

"Yes Tonya," Delilah's voice responded. "I see why Ramon loves this sweet pussy of yours." 

I was shocked by what I heard. I walked fast down the hall and peeked through every bedroom. No sight of either one of them.

"Oh damn Delilah! I love your cold tongue on my pussy. Mmmm that feels so good when you fuck me like that with your finger. Oh! Oh! Oh! Yeah just like that more…GIVE ME MORE!!!"

I looked at the door to the den. I walked slowly to it and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. I reached for the large door handles and turned softly, not to make any noises and disturb them. 

The door opened and I was drawn in to one of them most eerie erotic sights ever. I saw Tonya; she sat with her shirt over her breasts and bra on the back of the couch. Her pants off, thrown to one side in a jumbled mess over her shoes. Her panties hung from her right foot, as it was flat on the couch cushion close to her ass. Her hands opened her pussy, spreading it for Delilah's frigid touch.

Delilah hovered between Tonya's opened legs, I watched through her naked transparent skin and could see the fuzzy outline of Tonya's legs and ass as she sat on the couch. I could not believe my eyes.

I remembered how good it felt when Delilah sucked me in her cold mouth. I can only imagine how Tonya feels when her icy touch enters her soft heated core. 

The sight of them both together absorbed me into a fantasy. I watched for a moment, stared at them in their sexual union. Delilah's head moved frantically on Tonya's pussy, making her moan louder and wilder. 

Tonya reached out, tried to grab what I couldn't earlier. She yelled loudly, uninhibitedly, "OH FUCK I AM CUMMING!!!!"

I watched as Tonya's hair flowed wildly as she bellowed out a moan that filled the air and the house. She shuddered violently as Delilah's head bobbed between her thighs. The sight of them two sent shockwaves through me and to my loins. I was instantly hard.

I walked over to them both. Delilah saw me first and began to float away, timidly, and submissively. I waved her, shook my head no. She stayed, smiled cautiously and floated to one side.

I sat beside Tonya. Her breathing slowed down, as she tried to regain a little composure. "Hi," I said to her with a smile.

"Oh shit! Ramon?" She hurried to pull her shirt down; I stopped her, grabbed her hand and kissed her trembling lips.

"I see you enjoyed our friend here," I smiled wickedly as I stared into her eyes. She returned the smile, her eyes gave her away, she enjoyed it maybe more then I did.

"Ummm, I came by to apologize and well," Tonya tried to explain, "well I got to wandering around and came in here and you know I sat here and felt something and next thing I know…"

I smiled and put my finger to her lips. I lowered my face to her breast, sucked in her nipple to my mouth and licked circles around it. She trembled, her nipple was cold from Delilah's touch and now my warm breath and tongue made her coo as melt.

Delilah undid my pants, pulling them off slowly and stroked me with her arctic hand. I felt the cold shoot through me like before and I winced from it, but never let go of Tonya's nipple. 

The daylight escaped the den as night came. The room became dark, hard to see, but we always knew where Delilah was. 

Today, Tonya lives with me, well with us. She is part of the trio; we have fun together, talk and even sleep together. I have even caught them from time to time together in the den. 

Tonya now asks if Delilah has any "spiritual" lovers she can bring over. Delilah said she has someone in mind, an older gentleman, and black even. She said he was a dear friend of hers when he was alive, but never got to know him that well until the afterlife. 

Tonya can't wait for him to enter her. She is so ready.



Ghost Lover



Why did I let him buy this creepy old farmhouse? The farm was just outside of Sherborn, Massachusetts on a hill overlooking the Charles River. He had gotten a good deal on it and it came with a hundred acres of land, but the house was a dilapidated mess. He worked in Boston, so he didn't have to spend all day, every day in this monstrosity. 

After three weeks, I couldn't remain silent any longer. "This house sucks! Nothing works and everything is falling apart," I complained.

"Now honey, we'll get a builder in her to give us an estimate on a new house. Don't worry about it. This house isn't forever! Hang in there like the good little trooper I know you are."

Now, he would be gone for two weeks. He had a conference in Los Angeles. His law firm sent him all over the world. I didn't like it, but it came with the territory.

My first night alone and I'm sitting in bed reading a Harlequin novel. I hear a creaking sound on the stairs. I listen closer but hear nothing else. I feel a faint breeze on my cheek and hear a barely whispered, "Diane." Did I hear it, or am I starting to hear things that aren't there. I settled back into my book. My eyes get heavy and I drift off to sleep. Shortly after midnight, I hear the stairs creak again. I slowly open my eyes and watch my bedroom door open just a crack.

I leap out of bed and run to the door. Nobody is there. I shut the door and start back to my bed. I feel a hand caress my ass. I spin around quickly but again, nobody is there. Did I really feel it?

Now I'm too nervous to sleep. I go back to my book. Soon I drift off in a light sleep again. I wake up when I feel the covers being drawn slowly back. I look at them and they stop moving.

I get up and go to the kitchen to brew some coffee. As I sit in the dinette, a warm breath passes my cheek and once again I hear, "Diane."

I go to the bathroom and take a piss and a sleeping pill. I get back into bed and wait for the pill to kick in. Blessed sleep envelopes me. I am gone to the world. 

I wake up at six in the morning. Did any of that stuff happen last night or was it my imagination. I call Bart. "I think this house is haunted," I tell him.

He laughs. "No way, there is no such thing as ghosts. Get a grip. I'll see you in a couple of weeks. I'll call you tonight."

I spend my day on the balcony overlooking the river. If it weren't for this house, this would be an ideal spot. Night is falling and I go back inside and fix a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. After I consume it, I take a shower and prepare for bed.

I am standing nude in my bedroom. I feel a hand on my breast. I look down. I can see the imprint, but no hand. I slap at it and it springs back. A playful ghost? NOT!

I put on my baby doll pajamas and climb into bed. I pick up my book. As I read, I feel the covers sliding down my legs again. This time I just watch. How far will it go? The covers fall off the end of the bed and I am left on top of the sheet with only my baby dolls on.

The unseen hand is back on my breast. I can see the imprint. As I watch, the hem on my panties rises a little and I feel a hand caress my pussy. I am getting wet. Nobody is there. How am I feeling these things? A finger slides up my slit and touches my clit. "Go away!" I shout. The sensations stop. I retrieve the covers and tuck them tightly around me. This has got to be a dream. I pick up the book and read a coupe of chapters before I drop off again.

Morning is here, I wake up feeling empty and unfulfilled. What a dream! I am driving into Boston to do some grocery shopping. I shop for most of the day. When I get home, I set my bags in the kitchen and go to my bedroom to change. When I get back to the kitchen, all my groceries are already in their proper places. The bags are folded and on the counter. Maybe the ghost used to be a butler.

The presence of the spirit no longer scares me. I decide to have a little fun with the ghost. Tonight I sleep nude on top of the covers. I'll see just how far this ghost will go. I lie on the coverlet naked. The book is on the nightstand. I want to see all of this.

I hear the creaking of the stairs. The door swings open. A warm breath whispers in my ear, "Yes, my love, yes." I feel the hand on my breast. I feel the other hand caressing my bare pussy. I start to get wet. I open my legs and feel a finger probe me. It gently rubs my clit as I tremble on the bed. Unseen hands force my legs apart. I can see the dim outline of a large penis approaching my pussy. It enters my and starts to stroke. I feel for the balls with my hands. It doesn't take long to locate them. My lover gets heavier as he materializes on top of me. I breathe heavily as I feel my climax approach. I squeeze his nuts and he moans. I look at him. He is just a young man, nicely muscled, with long red hair and a moustache. He is, like me, totally nude.

"Do you have a name?" I whisper.

"Harrison," he answers.

I feel his cock twitch as he unloads his semen into me. My pussy quivers around him as I cum. I watch as he withdraws from me. "Will I see you again?" I ask.

"When you need me, just call my name," he replies and vanishes.

I went to the bathroom and washed myself. I didn't find any semen. At least I felt it as it squirted into me. 

My husband called the next evening. "Honey, it looks like I'll be here an extra week. I hope you don't freak out in that old house all by yourself."

"Don't worry about it Bart. I'm learning to adjust." 



Ghost Lover



Here is my latest submission to Literotica. It's something entirely new for me - a ghost story of sorts. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.

E

**********

Don't ask me why I went, because I don't really know. I suppose it was just because a lot of my old friends were there. I hadn't really believed in any of that hocus-pocus garbage for a long time. The truth is, I had become jaded and cynical. I'm embarrassed to remember that we used to think we could call forth the Old Ones, using the spells from The Necronomicon. Shit, we knew even then it was just a ripoff of Lovecraft, a way to capitalize on the mythology he built, but it didn't stop us from trying. So when Ray asked if I wanted to go to the séance (and attendant party), I only said yes out of fond memories and a desire to see some old friends. (And for the party, of course. I always did like a party.) I was kind of sad that they still dabbled in that supernatural crap, but I figured it wouldn't hurt anything.

I sure didn't expect this to happen. 

For the longest time, I didn't know what "this" was. I think I've finally figured it out, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. I'll just try to describe things as they unfolded. Let me start with the séance...

Like I said, I hadn't believed in anything supernatural in years. I think WANTING so much to believe, only to be disappointed over and over, contributed to how much I DIDN'T believe in the end, especially when I learned how many of the so-called psychics, mediums, and new-age-type authors where nothing but blatant charlatans preying on the gullible. I was worse than an ex-smoker or born-again Christian if you got me started! So, when I ran into Ray and he told me about the party and séance, it was a real struggle deciding whether to go. In the end, I missed my friends, and that's what won out.

Looking back, it's kind of miraculous that I ran into Ray when I did, and now it seems eerily coincidental that the party was happening while I was in town. I hadn't lived there for over ten years, and I hadn't really kept in touch with anyone, either. I was only visiting my sister for a couple of days while her husband was having surgery, so the odds seem rather long, thinking back on it now. Ray happened to see me at the gas station, and invited me. I wouldn't even have known him if he hadn't recognized me and spoken up. I know everyone has to be somewhere, but of all the hundreds of gas stations in the city, it seems odd. I'm reminded of Bogart in "Casablanca" - "Of all the gin joints..."

So anyway, the party was fun, and it was cool to catch up with the old crowd. Thankfully the conversation didn't really dwell on ghosts and such, so I had a pretty good time. It wasn't 'til late in the evening, when only a handful of people remained, that the conversation turned to the séance. I knew four of the five other guests that were attending -- Ray, of course; Janey, an old girlfriend of mine who had grown big as a house but still had a little-girl giggle; Charles, the clown in our group, who always lifted everyone's spirits (pun NOT intended) when yet another supernatural quest turned up empty; and Jeannie, who, by default, led our little band of misfits back in the old days. We weren't really an organized club or anything. We were just a bunch of fans of the the darker literature who somehow got the idea that even the fiction we read must be grounded in some truth. We wanted to find that truth.

The fifth guest, I did not know. He was named Emmit, or some other vaguely English-sounding name I can't quite remember, and was dressed in a waistcoat, of all things, complete with tight white trousers and a pair of tooled leather dress shoes with low heels and pointed toes.. He was nice enough, but very, shall we say, pretentious.

The woman who led the séance was Sasha. I was never really clear where she came from. It didn't seem any of my friends knew her personally. She just seemed to be there to conduct the rituals. I had trouble not treating her with open disdain, to be honest. She dressed like a gypsy, with flowing black hair under a yellow silk scarf, big gold hoop earrings, and a skirt with more colors than I can name. She looked like some Hollywood spoof of a fortune teller, and sounded like she were trying to fit every movie cliché she knew into her spiel. I was laughing inside at the absurdity of it all, and she seemed to pick up on my skepticism. She kept mentioning that it was more difficult to communicate with the spirit world when there were "Nonbelievers" in the party, but she was a powerful medium and would do her best. I swear, every time she said "Nonbeliever," I could see the capital letter in my mind, as if it were a title or a name rather than a description.

Anyway, the séance itself was pretty much exactly what anyone who has seen a movie that included a séance would expect. All of our hands placed flat on a round table. The room was lit only by a guttering candle near the table's center. Thankfully, there were no crystal balls or pentagrams. The only accessories Sasha used were a vase-shaped brass incense burner and a small bone. It wasn't even a very fancy-looking bone, not a skull or anything cool like that, but what might have been a finger bone. Or a chicken bone, for all I know. The cake of incense she used didn't put out much of a fragrance at all, but the delicate smoke rising from the intricate holes in the burner's body seemed to shift in color like oil on water. She used incantations that seemed to be a mix of English and what I took to be some made-up gibberish, alternately running her fingertips over the tiny bone and then laying it in the circle of light cast by the candle, each time facing a different direction.

I have to give her this -- she was a hell of a show-woman. Without understanding much of what she said, we all seemed to be entranced by the cadence of her voice, the ebb and flow of energy created by her words and movements. Everyone focused on her intently, and the growing energy and excitement seemed to infuse each of us. I was able to understand enough of her monologue to gather that she was supposed to be sensing some spirit or other nearby, someone who wanted to be heard. Sasha implored us to listen, to seek out the voice of the spirit. Everyone strained to hear sounds from another world, and the tension became palpable.

The first thing out of the ordinary that I noticed was the table vibrating. Honestly, I almost laughed out loud and left at that old ruse, knowing how easy it was for a "medium" to cause movements or vibrations in the table like this. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book. I think the only reason I stayed was because I didn't want to ruin the fun for my friends. 

I noticed the vibration became higher in frequency, until I could hear it as much as I could feel it. Soon it became an uncomfortable wailing in my ears, and I looked around the table to see how the others were handling it. Sasha mumbled quietly, incoherently, but with such intensity sweat was beaded on her face. Ray and Jeannie had their eyes closed, but showed no sign of feeling the same distress I was feeling. The others watched wide-eyed and intent, waiting like coiled springs for something to happen. For some reason I began to suspect that Emmit-of-the-waistcoat was in on the gag. He didn't really look like he was up to anything, and maybe it was just because he dressed too over-the-top to be quite legitimate, but I kept trying to catch him somehow causing the ululating wail I was hearing.

As the sound crescendoed, I saw the candle flare up brightly and the smoke from the incense burner took on a phosphorescent glow. It seemed to grow thicker and more solid, and changed colors rapidly. I couldn't believe no one else could hear the screeching, because it felt like nails were being driven into my eardrums. I felt sweat pouring from my body, and everyone seemed to take on a distorted, phantasmal appearance, like I was seeing them through old, half-melted glass. I tried to speak, but my consciousness seemed stuck in molasses and couldn't will my voice to action. I was terrified.

I realized there were words in the mournful wailing sound I was hearing, and I strained to hear them. The voice was high, ethereal, painful to hear. Finally, the words crystallized inside my head - "Take me! Please, save me! Take me now! Oh, please!!"

It was a woman's voice, filled with horrible, dreadful anguish. Each word was drenched in pain, drawn out in gut-wrenching cries. I didn't know what was happening to her, didn't know what she meant or where she needed to be taken from, but she was clearly in agony and needed help. I thought maybe I would see her in the churning, shifting smoke, but there was nothing, only her wretched cries. 

I felt compelled to try and help her. I don't know why, exactly, but the urge to help felt as strong as her need to be saved. I couldn't speak, yet from somewhere I heard my voice, distant and almost unrecognizable.

"I'll help you! I'll take you! Come this way, I can help you!! I will take you!!" I heard myself beckoning to this disembodied voice, though it sounded like I was calling from miles away. 

In response, the woman's voice grew louder, exploding in my brain, "Oh yes! Take me! Oh, yes, there you are!" With the explosion of sound came an explosion of light, white and hot, like fingers of fire reaching through my body, wrapping all around me. And then, darkness.

I awoke the next morning on the couch at Ray's place. I felt groggy and disoriented, like I was terribly hung over, though I had very little to drink. Bit by bit, memories of the séance floated into my mind like feathers settling on a dusty floor. I wondered vaguely if the incense that had no smell was actually some kind of drug. I sat up quickly, suddenly remembering that I was supposed to be at my sister's house helping take care of my brother. Bad mistake, because my head swam and I nearly puked. 

Ray called from across the room, where he was perched at a little dinette table with a cup of coffee, "Morning, sleepy head. You had quite a night. You scared us, passing out like that!"

He told me how I had blacked out during the séance, and everyone assumed I had had a little too much to drink. It seems no one else had heard any of the wailing I heard, nor had they seen the weird colors in the smoke. So much for the incense being a drug. I guess the séance just broke up after I passed out. He said I started to stand up, kind of stiff-like, and I made a groaning sound, and then I just dropped to the floor. I was breathing OK and my heartbeat was fine, so they put me to bed on the couch to let me sleep it off.

Gathering my senses, I asked ,"Ray, what time is it? I need to call Susan!"

"No worries, man, relax. We called her to let her know you were, uh, indisposed." He grinned malevolently, "She was kind of ticked off, though. Said you were supposed to watch Jimmy today so she could go back to work."

"Yeah," I said, heaving to me feet, head pounding. "I have to get going."

That whole day, I felt off. I couldn't put my finger on it, exactly. The hung-over feeling didn't last long, but I kept having the oddest sensations. I would be sitting there with Jimmy, watching the tube or playing cards, and all of a sudden I would feel pressure, like something pressing against me. Sometimes it was just a tingling feeling. Sometimes, things in the room just looked wrong, somehow, though I couldn't begin to tell you what was wrong about them. I was pretty freaked out, to be honest. I wondered if someone had slipped me something, or if I'd had a stroke. I spent as much time looking in the mirror to check my pupils and make sure my face wasn't drooping as I did looking after Jimmy. His surgery had gone fine, but he still needed someone to help him out, and I felt guilty to be so self-absorbed. But it was eerie.

When Susan got home, she said she hadn't gotten in trouble for being late to work, so I was thankful for that. I explained to her about the séance, and that I wasn't really drunk, but she just dismissed it, saying not to worry about it. I don't really think she believed me, she just didn't want to hash it over. When I tried to tell her about the weird feelings I was having today, she finally got impatient with me and reminded me that Jimmy was the one who needed help. I wanted to get mad at her, but I realized that was only because I was frightened. It wasn't her fault.

I stayed with them a few days, as we had planned. Jimmy was getting around on his own, and there was no more risk of problems from the anesthesia or anything, so I headed back home. 

Instead of getting better, the strange sensations just kept getting worse. At first they had been vague feelings of pressure, but by the time I left, it was as though I could feel something actually touching me on different parts of my body. 

No, that's not exactly right.

Not someTHING. SomeONE.

Sometimes it felt exactly as though a hand was touching my leg, or my shoulder. Sometimes I could feel a thigh pressing along the length of my own as I sat on the couch. But it was only a feeling. There was never a wrinkle in my clothing where I was touched. There was never a depression in the couch cushion next to me. It was only my flesh that seemed to be effected. Although it felt like a warm hand resting on my shoulder, there was nothing at all there when I touched the spot with my own hand.

And then there were the tingling, electrical feelings. I can't even begin to describe these accurately. It was like a wave of sensation passing through random parts of my body, sort of like the pins and needles feeling you get when your arm goes to sleep. But not really. I just can't describe it. The closest I can come is to say that I felt like there was movement happening, if that makes any sense. Movement through me, somehow.

I can't tell you how many times I worried that I was going crazy, or had been slipped acid or something. There was nothing painful about it at all, but it was horrifying just the same.

Horrifying and... intriguing.

I went back to work, resumed life as normal in most every way, but the odd feelings never left. I thought about going to the doctor, but thought about how foolish I'd sound. I didn't decide not to go, exactly. I just kept putting it off.

I realize as I'm telling all this, that you don't really know much about me. There's not really that much to know. I'm just an ordinary guy, for the most part. You know, moved away after college for work. I'm a chemist by trade, working for a company that makes herbicides and such. I'm always looking for a safer weedkiller. Exciting, huh? 

I date a little bit, but haven't really found anyone I want to get serious about. I'm a little bit of a loner, but I hang out with the guys and watch football on the weekends. Pretty boring, really. Like I said, I hadn't really thought about the supernatural in years. I'm a here-and-now kind of guy. A scientist. If I can't see it, touch it, smell it, it doesn't exist, you know what I mean?

So this weirdness was really throwing me for a loop.

Then, after a week or so, the dreams started. Well, I should say I had the first dream. It was a pretty simple dream. It was about a woman, lost in a fog that seemed to wrap all around her no matter where she moved. She was waif-thin, with blonde hair and dark, dark eyes. Her white dress was stained around the hem, as if she had been running through the mud, and it looked as if it were from another age. Someone seemed to be following her, because she kept looking behind her and starting with fright, then hurrying on. I seemed to be some kind of disembodied spirit or something, because she was always looking up at me, like I was floating in the air. I didn't seem to be in just one spot, because she would look in different directions, but her face always seemed to be turned towards me. You know how dreams don't make sense. And she kept calling to me.

"Take me! Please, save me! Take me now! Oh, please!!"

I awoke, sitting up straight in the bed, gasping for breath. I felt the shadow of a weight that had been pressed against me in my sleep, pressed against the full length of my body and crushing the wind from me, though there was nothing there now. I remembered the voice from the séance, speaking the same words. I trembled all over.

Even then, I made no connection between the woman in my dream and the physical sensations I had been feeling. At least, not consciously. I mean, I knew the dream was caused by the stuff I experienced at the séance, but I've also dreamed about game shows I just watched. It doesn't mean I'm haunted by the astral projection of Pat Sajak, right?

Though I didn't realize it right away, the physical experiences changed in nature after that dream. I no longer just felt a brush on the arm or a hand on my thigh. The touches seemed to take on a decidedly sexual nature. I was in traffic one morning, heading for work, and I damn near swerved into oncoming traffic when I felt a hand cup my balls and give a gentle squeeze. I was sitting in a meeting the next afternoon, trying not to let my eyes roll back into my head, when I felt my nipples being rubbed until they were hard, and then pinched and pulled! I was so alarmed I looked down to see if my shirt was moving. Unbelievably, my shirt just sat there like it didn't know a thing, although my nipples were clearly perky. I futzed with my tie and held my coffee in front of my face until the feeling went away, but my ears burned the rest of the meeting.

The weirdest sensation of that week -- a transition week, I've come to think of it -- was when I was at my buddy Kurt's house watching a game, and I had the distinct feeling of being kissed. Not just a little peck on the lips, either. Oh no. I felt a long, lithe, and slender tongue probing my mouth, teeth nibbling my lips and sucking on them, the whole deal. I had that same feeling of panic I had in the meeting, the thought that anyone could see what was happening to me. At one point Kurt looked over and asked if I wanted another beer, but if he noticed anything, he didn't say a word. And if you knew Kurt, you would know that I'd never hear the end of it, had he seen anything. Nice guy, but he still has the mentality of a high school jock sometimes. Any hint that I was puckering like a fish because I was kissing some ghostly lover would have brought down scorn and ridicule on my head like you wouldn't believe. Thank goodness, whatever I was feeling, wasn't showing.

It was a bit of a learning process, figuring out what other people could and couldn't see. But that comes later...

After a week or so of what could only be described as foreplay, I had another dream visitation. This dream was what finally made me realize that the girl in my dreams was, in fact, connected with the physical symptoms I had been having since the séance. What can I say? I'm a slow learner. 

In this dream, she was no longer running, but she was still ethereal and fragile-looking. Her blonde hair floated about her face as if she was underwater. She spoke to me with urgency and passion, but not so much fear this time. I couldn't understand, or can't remember, most of what she was saying, but at least part of it had to do with thanking me, and telling me she knew I was the one, she knew. She kept saying that, and I got the feeling I was supposed to do something, help her in some way, but I couldn't understand how. And then, she kissed me. I knew right away this was the same person who had kissed me, unseen, while I watched the football game at Kurt's. She pushed me gently down on my back, where I seemed to float in a room with no defined features, only glowing light. As I lay there, she moved her hands over my body, my chest, and down to my groin. I felt the now-familiar cup of her hand around my balls, and then she took my cock in her hand and began to stroke me.




Ghost Lover



She looked imploringly into my face as she did, and I saw that her eyes, which had been so dark in the previous dream, were actually a clear, light grey. The sense of darkness was because they were deep-set and shrouded with concern. She tugged my cock expertly as her other hand glided over my chest, stimulating my nipples just like I had felt in the meeting. She bent to kiss me, and with her face nuzzled against my neck she kept saying "Please, save me. I know you're the one. Can you take me? Will you save me?" It was a mantra, a supplication, her voice inside my head, tinged with a need deeper than I could fathom. Something about that sense of need, and the unseen way it seemed to feed her hands on my body, infusing them with desire beyond understanding, was more erotic than I can describe. Before long, she sensed my climax approaching, and began to chant "Oh yes! Yes. I know I can reach you! Yes, yes..." 

When I came, my dream-self ejaculated in a huge stream up over my chest, jet after slowly-subsiding jet. My ghostly lover milked the last drops from my cock and began rubbing the sticky, viscous mess all over my belly and chest. The last tingling sensations of my orgasm were just fading when I awoke to find I had jizzed in my underwear, and copious amounts of cum had soaked through and wet my sheets in cold spots of dampness.

Dammit! I hadn't had a wet dream since junior high school! What the hell was happening to me???

While it was clear to me the girl from the séance, the strange physical sensations, and the girl in my dreams were all related somehow, I just couldn't make myself believe that it was all real. I mean, I knew it was REAL -- I had the load of messy sheets in the laundry even as I was thinking about this -- but I didn't accept that there might be another entity involved. A ghost. Who believes in ghosts these days? I knew something was happening, but I still thought it was coming from my own mind somehow.

I pretty much thought I was going crazy.

Now that I had dreamed of direct contact with her, my ghostly visitations became both more frequent and more overt. No more isolated feelings of fingers on my chest, or kisses from unseen lips. No more foreplay, so to speak. Oh no. 

Now the girl was getting me off at every opportunity. She seemed to thrive on pleasuring me. And it was damned embarrassing and inconvenient on occasion.

I'll give you an example. I was taking the subway train into work one day when my unseen companion decided it would be the perfect time to give me a blowjob. Like I said, no one else can see anything she does, but my erection was unmistakable as I felt the first stirrings of her touch. A young lady across from me looked at me with a withering glare, her eyes flashing lightning bolts of disapproval my way as I wriggled and squirmed to get my cock comfortable in my pants. That's not so easy when you're in public and can't just reach down and rearrange your package! I ended up slipping off my jacket and throwing it over my lap, but the woman across from me seemed to think I was just going to jerk off under there, so I made sure to keep my hands in the clear. She had the hawkish, bitter face of someone who would just love to report me to the authorities for indecent exposure.

I was pretty amazed that I was able to experience such sexual pleasure under her hateful scrutiny, but I did. The feeling of soft lips and a deft tongue working over my cock soon blotted out all but the most vague awareness of the eyes on me. Not just her eyes, either. She was the only one really watching me, but the car was full. I leaned back against the gently rocking seat and let the stimulation take over. I've always been a very visual person, and I like to watch when a woman gives me head, so feeling my lover's supple mouth suck me deeply in, feeling the tightness as my head penetrated the back of her throat - all this was strangely intensified by the deprivation of sight. I could feel her hand stroking and tugging at the base of my shaft in unison and in counterpoint to the wet mouth engulfing me. She sometimes stretched my skin taught, almost to the point of pain, and lightly moved her moist lips and tongue over the tight, sensitive skin. As she sensed my approaching orgasm, her hand took over in firm, rhythmic, dedicated strokes. Only occasionally did I sense her tongue flickering over my head and toying with the slit, already wet with precum. Though I couldn't see her at all, I had the feeling she was watching my face, enjoying my expressions as I edged nearer and nearer to the brink.

At last, I teetered over the edge, cumming in great heaving waves that passed through my abdomen, emptying my balls. I came to my senses to find that we were nearly to my stop, and the woman across from me was regarding me with the horror one might reserve for a bearer of the plague. I was never unconscious or anything, but I had been totally absorbed in what I was feeling, and I could only hope I hadn't made any obnoxious noises. 

I started to put my jacket back on only to find that I had stained the front of my pants in a spreading splotch of dark wetness. I quickly held the jacket back in front of me, mortified and hoping against hope that no one else saw before I was able to cover up. I dug my cell phone out and called in to work, explaining that I had ruined my pants on the subway and needed to change before I could come in.

This would never do. I couldn't just go around jizzing in my pants at seemingly random times. I realized I had to do something to preserve my job and keep me out of jail. Not to mention the psych ward.

So, I did the only thing I could think of. I know you're gonna laugh, but I started wearing Depends. Yeah, yeah, I know. Adult diapers. Yuck it up. 

What else could I do? I tried mind over matter. I mean, it seems like I should be able to keep from getting a woody, right? Much less, keep myself from having an orgasm. But whatever hold my visitor had over me, it seemed to override my own sense of embarrassment and self-preservation. She could make herself known and make me cum, anywhere, at any time. Honestly, I didn't mind in some ways. But it could still be really embarrassing, even with the protection of the Depends.

She never spoke to me when I was awake, but she began to haunt my dreams more and more often, and in the dreams she did talk. Most of what she said was very cryptic and hard to understand. It dawned on me that she had an accent, one that I couldn't place but seemed to be vaguely eastern European. I also learned her name -- Elisabetta. 

In one evening's dream, I asked her, "Elisabetta, why are you here? Who are you?" I watched her face cloud with concentration, trying to come up with an answer I could understand.

"I am myself, Elisabetta. I have always been. You are the one. This I know, though you are unsure. I have found you, as I knew I would. That is why I am here."

"But, Elisabetta, what do you want from me? Why do you constantly touch me, suck me? What do you mean, I am the one? You seem to need something, but I don't know what it is you need. Help me understand." Without realizing it, I had fallen into her slightly old-fashioned, formal-sounding cadence.

"Do you not like the ways in which I touch you?" She seemed sad beyond measure, hopeless and lost at the thought.

I quickly answered, dread permeating the dream as I tried to reassure her, "Yes! Yes, I like the way you touch me. But you say I can save you, that I can take you. Where, Elisabetta? Where can I take you? How can I save you?"

She looked at me sadly. Her sad smile only seemed to deepen the sense of dread I was feeling, the fear that I was failing her. "If I must tell you, then I cannot be saved. To explain would be to surrender to the power of the curse. Remember, not all journeys take us to places. You can take me, but I cannot tell you where, because we are already there. It is all around us and in us, part of us. Only you can set me free."

"I don't understand. I want to help, but..."

She shushed me with a finger to the lips. "You may understand in time. But now..." She bent once more and took my cock in her mouth. It seemed she never tired of sucking me, in my dreams or in my waking hours. 

"Elisabetta, please. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep cumming all over the place, wearing diapers to keep from messing!" Her hurt eyes cut me, made me feel ashamed for rejecting her. "Please, you make me feel incredible, but I have a life. I can't keep doing this!"

She looked at me, and the sadness was clearly no longer simply for herself. "You do not understand. I have no will to stop. I do what I must. My freedom is your freedom. But I will try not to be such an inconvenience to you." She smiled her sad smile, and then her brow furrowed. "Take me. Set me free. Set me free, for us both." And she took me in her mouth again. 

Her now familiar touch brought me almost unwillingly to a quick but surprisingly intense climax. She really did give the most amazing blowjobs I've ever felt, with sensations that electrified my being as well as my flesh. As my semen spurted, she held my cock in her mouth, letting me empty myself into her, something I realized she had never done before. When I had finished, she swallowed my seed and rose from the bed, drifting away noiselessly. 

The room became lighter and lighter until I awoke, sunlight streaming through the window. The last fragments of the dream swirled in my consciousness, and I got up, expecting to have to clean up yet another mess. To my surprise, there was no mess. I puzzled over the dream, which I could remember in every detail, and I couldn't help but wonder if Elisabetta had somehow swallowed my cum into the dream world, keeping it from spilling over into this world. The thought that there could be real interaction between these two worlds -- waking and sleeping, physical and spirit -- befuddled my sleepy brain, and I felt as if the floor might slope away into madness at any moment. I felt agitated and uneasy at the mysteries Elisabetta hinted at. I said before that I recognized a connection with the séance, but I was still clinging to the thought that this was all a manifestation of my own mind. If things that Elisabetta did could change things in the real world, though, that meant something entirely different. In some way, she was REAL. She was, for lack of a better term, a real ghost.

These thoughts buzzed like bees in my head, and I got ready for work like a man in a trance, trying to puzzle out what it all meant. By the time I left, I had just about convinced myself that it was really just a dream, and the only reason I didn't have a wet dream to clean up was that I simply didn't orgasm. I had only dreamt that I orgasmed. That seemed the only explanation that my mind could wrap around. Thus placated, I went about my day.

But I was soon to be disabused of the notion that Elisabetta was only in my head. 

Just a few days after this last dream, I found myself working out at the gym. See, there was a new woman at work, and we had kind of hit it off, and I was thinking of asking her out. But I was feeling sort of soft and tubby, you know? I hadn't been working out much since the séance misadventure because I was, well, pretty much out of my mind. So, I started hitting the weights and watching my diet, just in case something developed with this new girl, Sarah.

As I was at the bench press, grunting my way through more reps than I really ought to have done, I felt the familiar tingle of Elisabetta's touch. I sensed urgency in the way she grabbed my balls and took me in her mouth, sucking me enthusiastically until I was hard as stone. Though I never actually saw her when I was awake, I'd begun picturing her in my mind's eye, and I imagined her lovely blonde head bobbing on my shaft as I lay back on the bench, her grey eyes beseeching me to give her whatever it was she needed. I gave up on the barbell and resigned myself to her attention, though I was already planning a mad dash as soon as she finished with me, before the cum had time to soak through my grey sweats. I hadn't thought to wear the Depends to the damned gym.

I noticed that the connection between us had somehow gotten stronger, because Elisabetta seemed to respond to my thoughts now, as if I were talking to her. Not that she ever stopped when I asked her to, but she did seem to try to please me and do the things I liked most. This time at the gym was the first -- I remember wishing she would grab my ass and pull me to her, taking me all the way in. And, sure enough, I felt her open hands cup my behind and pull, and I felt my cock slide all the way down her throat, her chin pressed against my pubis. She began to suck me in a series of long, deep strokes, each one starting all the way at the tip of my penis and then slowly engulfing me fully. I was aware of people glancing at me, wondering why I was laying on the weight bench and not lifting, maybe even noticing my ridiculous erection, but I didn't really care.

It didn't take too long, with Elisabetta following my every whim, before I was about to cum. I was worried about the mess, but it was out of my hands. Once my ghostly friend decides it's time, I'm gonna cum whether I want to or not. So I didn't fight, and before I knew it I was heaving in climax. The people around me must have thought I was having a heart attack or something, the way I was gasping for breath. Just as I came, I felt Elisabetta take me all the way in, and she held me there as I shot my load, pumping every drop of my hot cum straight down her throat. She held me tight until my spasms passed, and then she drifted away as she always did. 

I quickly sat up and started to head for the locker room, afraid of embarrassing myself with a big cum-stain on my sweat pants, but much to my surprise there was no stain. I made my way to the locker room anyway, feeling drained and ready for a shower. I was thinking about the dream in which she had swallowed my cum, and how there was no stain on the sheets. I had decided that was just a dream of an orgasm. But this time I had been awake. Could I have imagined an orgasm while I was fully awake, and yet not have ejaculated at all? Shit, I thought I must have been going totally crazy.

A funny thing happened, though. When I got to the locker room and stripped out of my clothes, there was a small pearlescent drop seeping out of my half-erect penis. I squeezed a bit and stripped out a last couple of drops of semen. I HAD ejaculated, but most all of the cum was gone. All that was left were these tell-tale droplets. Well, hell. When Elisabetta swallows, the semen disappears from this world. Or dimension. Or whatever you call it. Damn!

From that moment on, my mind did a complete shift. I never again doubted or questioned what Elisabetta was. She was a ghost, or a spirit. A ghost that, for whatever reason, had attached herself to me at the séance and was now taking every opportunity to suck or jerk me dry, and occasionally visited me in my dreams. She obviously needed something from me, too, but I didn't know what.

There are worse problems for a guy to have, I guess...

It's funny. Once I accepted that I was being haunted rather than going crazy, I started feeling much better about things. More normal. Who in the world regards ghosts and hauntings as normal?! Still, I stopped feeling so off kilter and just started living again. I even started dating Sarah from work. 

Elisabetta's presence made that a little tricky, obviously. I noticed, on days when I had a date planned, she would come to me multiple times a day. In fact, before my first date with Sarah, she used and abused me ten times throughout the day - three times while I was getting ready to go! I didn't even know I could cum that often. Luckily, Sarah liked taking things pretty slow, so it didn't cause any kind of embarrassing performance problems, but it was clear Elisabetta had an opinion about me dating. I expected her to visit me in my dreams and tell me off, but that didn't happen. Well, not exactly. After a few weeks, she finally did come to my dreams, but she didn't tell me off.

I've mentioned that we had started talking together in my dreams. That's true, but it would be wrong to think these were just normal conversations, or that we talked about things I wanted to talk about. They were still dreams, after all, with all of a dream's vagaries and lack of lucidity. So, the dream I had after starting to date Sarah just confused me. Elisabetta was very agitated in the dream, and it sounded like her words were filtered through cotton and fog. In fact, her appearance was really gauzy and faded, too. She kept asking me something about what I wanted, and whether I was going to save her. As always, she wanted me to take her somewhere, but I just couldn't figure out where. At the end of the dream she was crying and asking why I didn't want her. I tried telling her that I did want to help her, but my words sounded like gibberish, even to me. She drifted away, still crying, as I awoke. It was the first time she had visited me without touching me, and for some reason that upset me worst of all. I had the feeling once more that I was failing her. It made me sadder than I would have imagined.

It seemed clear that Sarah's entrance into my life was having an effect on Elisabetta. In a really odd way, I felt I was cheating on her. My rational mind just couldn't fathom choosing a ghost over a real relationship with a real woman, though, so I continued seeing Sarah. Guilt washed over me every time Elisabetta came to me -- guilt that I was choosing Sarah over her, and also guilt that I was cheating on Sarah with a ghost. What a spot to be in. But life went on...

By this time, Elisabetta had learned exactly what kinds of things I liked, and I kind of think she got as excited by taking me in public places as I did. Be it a movie theater, restaurant, or meeting at work, Elisabetta was there with me. Whether just a handjob or a full scale suck-me-'til-I-explode blowjob, she always swallowed now, so I gave up on wearing the Depends. Thank goodness!

Despite my guilt at being torn between two worlds, things were moving along nicely with Sarah. I sensed that we were each feeling committed and close enough to take the relationship to the next level, and after a lovely dinner and bottle of wine at a French restaurant, we found ourselves back at my place, cuddled up on the couch. For once, Elisabetta was completely out of mind, and Sarah and I were kissing and fondling hungrily. The mood was right, the time was right -- we both knew tonight would be the night we made love. I was kissing her neck and lightly caressing her breasts through the silky material of her blouse when I felt the familiar touch of Elisabetta's fingers on my chest. Sarah must have felt me tense up, because she asked me what was wrong. I told her it was nothing, that I was just a little nervous, and she assured me she was nervous and excited, too.

We kissed again, and hands started roaming again, and sure enough, Elisabetta started going down on me. I stifled a moment's panic, scared that Sarah would sense what was going on, but she seemed not to notice. I guess it was only natural that I should have woody, making out with such a beautiful woman. She certainly noticed, too, glancing at my bulging cock straining at my pants, and then looking directly in my eyes with undisguised lust before slipping her tongue back between my lips. I have to admit, it was an incredible sensation to be kissing Sarah's sensuous mouth and fingering her hard nipples while feeling Elisabetta's expert mouth on my cock. I had no idea what was going to happen when I tried to slide myself into Sarah's pussy. Would I feel Sarah AND Elisabetta? I couldn't imagine what that might feel like. My head whirled with excitement and lust, and I found myself giddy beyond the effects of the wine.




Ghost Lover



As it turned out, I never got to find out what would happen when I tried to make love with Sarah. Not that night, anyway. Elisabetta brought out every trick in the book, deepthroating me, licking me, sucking my balls, tweaking my nipples, even sliding a finger up my ass and pressing against my prostate (something she had never done before). I had no hope of lasting very long, between Sarah's warm, living body and hungry kisses, and Elisabetta's equally hungry sucking of my cock. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, I tried in vain to hold out, but within minutes I felt the wave of climax wash over me. I never could resist Elisabetta's touch, she had such a hold over my body and spirit. Just as I came, I felt her pull away, taking my cock out of her mouth and stroking me as I spurted. And, of course, between Sarah and Elisabetta, it was a huge ejaculation, and horror washed over me as I felt the warm, sticky wetness spreading across the front of my pants. I pulled away from Sarah and looked down to see the telltale black stain on my grey dress slacks. Oh god.

I will never forget the expression on Sarah's face as she realized I had just cum in my pants. There was a mixture of surprise, disappointment, embarrassment, and pity there that made me just want to die. I had never been so embarrassed and ashamed before. The expression in her eyes, and her wet lips parted in surprise and shock, will be forever ingrained in my memory. Needless to say, I apologized profusely and made for a quick exit. To Sarah's great credit, once she regained her composure, she seemed to regard my premature launch as a kind of compliment, and she actually wanted me to stay and pick up where we left off. I was too embarrassed to stay, though, and I needed to figure out what to do about Elisabetta. I got out of there quickly, but I was very happy and relieved that Sarah didn't want to end things because of my accident. I just had to figure things out...

One thing was obvious. Elisabetta meant to interfere in my relationship with Sarah. She meant to cause a mess and embarrass me.

That night, my dream was amazingly intense. Hyper-real, even. Elisabetta came to me from misty darkness, floating into the light as I lay on my bed. She was angry and hurt, her eyes so dark I couldn't see a hint of the silvery grey irises. Nevertheless, she began touching me with hungry eagerness, as if her desire to please me had grown with her anger. She seemed to take for granted the growing hardness of my erection, knowing she always had the power to coax my seed from my body. She didn't say a word, but her touch was aggressive, even painful. 

I decided I'd had enough. Usually, I am very passive in my dreams of Elisabetta, always feeling as if she is the focal point and I am merely the subject of her attentions and the eager pupil trying to figure out what she needs from me. But this time I sat up, leaped up from the bed, and took her by the arms. Her dress was loosened, and fell from one shoulder, exposing a pale, small, heaving breast. Her eyes were no longer shrouded in shadow, and shone out clear and direct. Despite my rough hands digging into her arms, she smiled at me. I didn't understand that smile -- it wasn't defiant, nor was it supplicating. It was a smile of pure joy. For some reason it infuriated me, and I shook her, hard. She just smiled more broadly, happiness spreading across her whole face.

"Yes!" she said breathlessly, as if she had made some sublime discovery. "Yes, finally..."

I think she tried to say more, but at that moment she dissolved under my touch, slipping through my fingers like fine sand and smoke.

I awoke with a start. Somehow, I knew something had changed. With a surprising mixture of relief and trepidation, I wondered if she was gone now, gone for good. I was hit by a wave of sadness at the thought.

I shouldn't have worried. Elisabetta stayed with me, making me cum several times every day. I wondered whether it might start to have some effect on my health, but I never noticed anything. If anything, I felt more vigorous. 

As you might imagine, I was kind of gun-shy about Sarah now, but I was determined not to let that relationship go. After my premature ejaculation faux pas, I had expected things to fall apart, but they didn't. As a matter of fact, we became closer than ever. I made a fateful decision. I decided to tell her about Elisabetta. I confessed everything, from the séance to the real reason I shot my load so early that first night with her. We laughed about the diapers. We puzzled over the meaning of the dreams. I expected her to think I was batshit crazy, and I realized, too, that if she DID believe me, there might be jealousy.

Instead, the most amazing thing happened. She believed me, 100 percent. Not only that, but she wasn't jealous. She was totally supportive. She seemed to identify so closely with Elisabetta's plight, she tried to help figure out why I was being haunted, and what I might do to help. I was amazed, and for the first time realized I wasn't just smitten with Sarah. I was in love.

Sarah and I had still not had sex, and we both wanted to make that right, though we agreed there were complications. Being haunted has a way of making things difficult. Still, we decided the best thing to do was proceed with our relationship, and I agreed to tell her whenever Elisabetta came to me. 

Thus, we found ourselves on a Friday night in front of Sarah's fireplace, snuggling and kissing on a plush rug in front of the hearth. Warm, flickering yellow firelight bathed our bodies as we moved together. Our clothes seemed to find themselves tossed aside without our conscious effort. Sarah rolled me onto my back and straddled me, sliding the wet slit of her pussy over the length of my hard shaft without letting it slip inside. Soon enough, I felt Elisabetta join us. It is so hard to describe sensations that are physically impossible, so I won't even try, except to say that I felt Elisabetta's hands even as my shaft was enveloped by the folds of Sarah's wet, sweet labia.

I pulled Sarah up so she straddled my face and I tasted for the first time her sweet, succulent juices. Her clit was swollen, large and pearl-hard, and I feasted on it hungrily. All the while I felt Elisabetta's delicious ghostly mouth on my cock, sucking me needfully. I concentrated on pleasing Sarah, and after a while I was happy to feel her body start to tense and rock with approaching climax. She ground her wet pussy against my mouth in smooth, sweeping motions and my tongue matched her movements, bringing her inexorably to orgasm. She shuddered and flooded my mouth with streaming, rich wetness as she gasped for air and cried out in pleasure. She rode the climax as a surfer might ride a wave, cresting and then following the rolling surf like a quiet, spreading breaker washing a still beach, and then receding back into the warm ocean as her breath steadied.

Sarah moved down my body again, and impaled her soaking pussy on my hard, hard cock. She gasped and moaned as I entered her and began to move with her. I suddenly felt the completely indescribable, incredible sensation of Elisabetta sucking me even as I pumped in and out of Sarah's wet warmth. It was too much, and I knew I would cum almost immediately from the feeling. So, I did my best to recall the feeling I had in the dream, when I took Elisabetta by the arms, and in my mind's eye I imagined pulling her up toward me. It was the first time I had ever had any success at influencing her when I was awake, other than thoughts that let her know what felt good that day. Even at those times, I was just letting her know how I felt, and she was acting on those thoughts of her own power. This time, though, I could feel my thoughts drag her, unwilling, from my overstimulated member. 

Having thus gained some control over her, I decided to pull Elisabetta up so she was straddling my face. I had never felt any part of her body but her mouth and hands, and I was astonished that I could feel her wet pussy against my chin, and taste her ghostly juices, ripe and real as any living woman's, flowing into my mouth. I ate her hungrily, amazed that I could feel every aspect of her tight slit. Where Sarah was shaved clean and smooth, Elisabetta's thick, sweet-smelling thatch of pubic hair tickled my nose as I munched on her. Her clit was tiny but rock-hard, nestled in the folds of her clitoral hood. I burrowed my tongue in and flicked it rapidly over her clit, and felt her press herself against me.

Sarah seemed to sense what was going on. "Oh my god, you're eating her, aren't you!?" she burst out. "Oh, make her cum! Make her cum when I cum!!" She fucked me harder and harder, slapping her hips against mine as we thrust, arching her back so her clit rubbed against me with each deep plunge. She was whimpering, crying out, moaning, getting so close.

I ate Elisabetta's wet, ghostly slit for all I was worth, and I could feel her legs quivering as she straddled me. Sarah cried out as she came, jerking and thrusting against me, and I felt Elisabetta cum, too. She squirted all over my face, drenching me and the rug with her wet torrent and grinding her clit against my tongue and teeth as she orgasmed. I followed both women's ebb and flow, and I was bathed in their juices. Sarah slowed as her climax faded, gently easing up and down on my cock, glistening in the firelight. 

"Your face," she managed in a whisper, "it's so wet. Did she cum? Did she finally get to cum?"

"Yes, baby, she came when you did. Oh my god, you're so beautiful, Sarah!" And I meant it. She was gorgeous in the afterglow of her orgasm, sweat shining on her face and smooth breasts, and the red of her hair glowing in the firelight. But she was also beautiful inside. Yes, I know that sounds totally sappy and ridiculous, but her thought for Elisabetta even in the midst of her own climax touched me somehow, and I fell even more in love with her.

I started to pump into her again, slowly at first, and then with increasing power and speed. I managed to shift positions without ever taking my cock from her, first to a sitting position, and then, with some awkward stumbling around, I managed to stand, lifting Sarah with me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, helping to support her weight, and moved against me as I fucked her. I backed her against a wall and thrust into her while I kissed her hard. I wondered if she could taste Elisabetta, as I still could, and I could tell by the ravenous way she sucked at my lips and tongue that she could.

Once more I felt the unreal, impossible-to-describe sensation of Elisabetta sucking me at the same time I plunged my cock into Sarah's pussy. It was absolutely amazing, and I wish I could describe the feeling, but now, after the fact, it is like a dream that seemed totally real but ends up being impossible under the cold light of day. Soon, I was shuddering with my own orgasm, pumping stream after flowing stream of hot cum into Sarah and Elisabetta simultaneously. Sarah wrapped herself around me tightly as I came, kissing me hard and sharing my heaving breath. When I was totally spent, I carefully lowered her to the floor and sank beside her, where we dozed in the warmth of the fire.

Elisabetta came only briefly into my dream that night, looking radiant with a warm glow that seemed to come from inside her. She didn't touch me this time, except to take my face in her hands as she spoke.

"I knew you were the one. I knew right away. Only you can set me free. Only you understand how to reach me, only you can take me and set me free. Only you..." Her voice trailed off, and I dreamt no more that night.

When Sarah and I awoke, dim light was streaming through the window and the fire had burned itself to ashes. We smiled at one another in the pale grey light, knowing we had crossed a bridge together. Still, we didn't know what path stretched before us, or if Elisabetta was gone for good. We talked these things over as we cooked breakfast, the wonderful smell of bacon, eggs, and biscuits reminding us we hadn't eaten since early yesterday afternoon.

I was curious to know if Sarah could feel Elisabetta, so I asked her outright. She said she had learned to sense her through my reactions, but couldn't feel her physically at all.

"I'm kinda bummed," she joked. "I was sort of looking forward to a threesome with a chick I didn't need to worry about catching STDs from. Or be jealous of..." She said it in a lighthearted way, but I wondered about the last part. "I don't need to be jealous, do I?" she added, confirming my worries.

"No, of course not!" I reassured her. "I mean, she's not even real! Well, she's real, but she's not alive, exactly." I stood wondering for a moment, thinking about how weird this conversation was. "Anyway, she seemed happy enough in the dream last night. She may go away now. In any case, I don't think you need to be jealous. She doesn't seem to mind sharing me as long as you don't mind."

"Well, sometimes I think I DO mind! But it's so strange. I mean, whoever thinks they'll end up in a menage a' trois with a ghost? But it's OK, as long as you love me. And I know you love me." Sarah kissed me lightly, but her eyes conveyed the depth of her trust and devotion. I felt such a strong surge of love for her at that moment! I'd never met such a kind, open-hearted woman. 

We both felt the moment was about to descend into one of those sappy, glurgy movie moments that are so uncomfortable, even when the emotion is real, but luckily we were saved by the bell. Literally, the timer went off, telling us the biscuits were ready, so we gathered our breakfast and ate contentedly.

I have to be honest. As strange as things were, I think I would have been happy to have them continue that way indefinitely. Elisabetta didn't go away -- in fact, her visits became ever more frequent. She sometimes found me alone, and always showed up when Sarah and I had sex. It became just a part of our relationship, this ghostly third party in our bed. In a way, I realized, she was the second party -- Sarah was the third party, at least chronologically. Of course, I felt an immediate and crushing wave of guilt at this thought. But Elisabetta was always there, never overtly asking for anything, always giving pleasure with her hungry mouth and adroit hands. Her only request, repeated over and over when she came to me in dreams, was always to save her, to take her, but she remained unable to tell me where or how.

As it turned out, I found out what she meant purely by accident. It may be obvious to you, but it never was to me until after the fact. 

Sarah, who had been doing great work at the lab, was up for a promotion. In order for that to happen, she needed to go out of town for a week of intensive training. I was excited for her promotion, but I knew I would miss her when she was gone. We were careful never to make demands or place expectations on one another, but our bond had grown stronger with time, and this was the first time we'd be apart.

Sarah flew out on a Sunday afternoon. Elisabetta seemed to sense my loneliness, because she visited me frequently that week. Her visits were welcome, but I missed Sarah. I missed making love, feeling our whole bodies joined together. Elisabetta touched me as she always did, using only her mouth and her hands, which I had always thought was her preference. 

By the time Friday rolled around, I was longing for Sarah. It sounds so strange to say it, like I was playing two real women, without a care for either of their feelings, but this was something beyond reason, beyond anyone else's experience. My need for Sarah's touch was not a slight of Elisabetta; nor was my bond with Elisabetta a betrayal of Sarah. It's so hard to explain, but that's the way it was.

Friday after work, I went home, planning to just relax and enjoy Elisabetta's visitation. Sarah would be back tomorrow morning, and things would get back to my warped idea of normal.

After dinner, I was just relaxing, working with some photos that needed editing, and wondering when Elisabetta might show up. I felt a little bad that I expected her -- she owed me nothing, so I was a bit guilty that I held expectations for her. Nevertheless, she did show up. She kissed me fervently, hands wandering over my body, and I felt her kisses working their way down my body.

I moaned with pleasure as her mouth found my awakening cock. She took me in and I could feel her tongue working with familiar, even loving, precision over my skin.

I don't know what came over me, but I began talking to her. You know, just talking out loud. I was at home alone, after all, and there was no one to hear. No one but Elisabetta.

"Why do you always suck me, Elisabetta?" I asked the empty room. "Don't you ever want to fuck me? I know you can cum, I've felt it! Don't you ever just need to cum? Don't you want me?"

Of course, there was no answer, but her mouth moved with ever greater urgency over my cock, taking me deep into her throat. I could feel her tongue flicking at my balls while my cock was all the way in her mouth, a totally amazing feeling.

I remembered how, the first time I had made love with Sarah, I had been able to use my thoughts to pull Elisabetta up so I could eat her sweet pussy. When we three were together, it seemed totally natural to guide her, but whenever she came to me alone, I always just let her do what I thought she wanted or needed to do. It had never really occurred to me to do anything else. She was the ghost, after all!

But this time, I wanted to feel her whole body. I wanted to hold her tight as I sank myself deep into her wet pussy. And, strange as it seems now, it finally occurred to me that I had never actually fucked Elisabetta. I had always followed her lead, or counted her as a second player to Sarah. Now, I pictured her beautiful grey eyes, her flowing blonde hair, and her slim delicate body, and I wanted her, all of her. 

In my mind, I grasped her shoulders and pulled her away from her amazing oral ministrations. I drew her up until we were standing face to face. She looked at me, her eyes crystal clear, tentative and frightened. I led her to my couch, where I lay her gently down. I climbed onto the couch, between her slender legs and eased my throbbing cock into her wet, waiting slit. It was like heaven on earth.

I don't why it had never occurred to me before. I felt so stupid, but that was quickly replaced by feelings of lust. And feelings of tenderness. I couldn't believe I had shared months and months of my life with this woman, however unreal, shared every intimacy imaginable, and had never made love with her. I was overcome with shame that I had used her, even if it seemed that was what she wanted.

I wished I could see her there, just this once. I wished I could see her with my waking eyes instead of just dreaming about her. Just because she was a spirit made her no less real, and the meaning of that thought finally sunk home as we lay together on the couch, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. And I can't tell you now whether I just imagined it or if it really happened, but I did see her. I saw her and felt her, as real as any woman I've ever touched. I saw her eyes, clear as the sky, and her sweet mouth, smiling at me. I saw her smooth pale skin and her blonde hair laying in a fan against the couch. Glancing down, I saw her breasts and smooth stomach heaving with passionate breaths. We thrust into one another, arched our bodies, pressed together and shared our heat. She kissed me and I called her name, so strange to hear spilling from my lips in a moment of passion, totally awake and aware. 

I could tell she was nearing climax, and I was, too. Our rhythm matched perfectly as we climbed toward the brink, the point of no return. She cried out, and I heard her with my ears this time, not just my mind. I felt her tight pussy begin to contract around my hard cock, squeezing in undulating waves that pushed me over the top, and I came along with her. I came hard and deep, spasms starting from deep in my belly and squeezing the cum from me, shooting it deep into Elisabetta's body as she came along with me. We shuddered together, and I pumped and pumped my juices into her until it seemed she must spill over. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me tight against her as our orgasms subsided and our breathing quieted. The smell of our sticky sweet sex filled the air, warm and close.




Ghost Lover



I picked her up and carried her to my bed, lying down and folding the weight of her body on top of me. How strange, to feel her weight, the warmth of her body! She snuggled into me, her breath warm and moist against my neck, and we dozed.

I awoke, as you've probably guessed, alone. I checked the clock, and saw I had slept late. It was almost time to go pick up Sarah at the airport. I got up and showered quickly. While I showered, I thought back on the previous night.

I couldn't remember dreaming exactly, but I now knew the whole story behind Elisabetta's presence in my life. 

She was, as I'd already realized, a ghost. She had been killed by a hateful husband many centuries ago, killed because she had not been able to bear him a child. He thought it was some kind of witchcraft, some kind of trick she was playing on him to humiliate him and deny him heirs. He never knew he was the one who was infertile, so he struck her with an axe, and he put a curse on her as her life's blood flowed away. He told her that no man would ever want to take her again, that she was a dried up soulless witch, a whore condemned to suck the seed from men who would never want to touch her, and she would go through eternity without love. She would be cursed to an afterlife of utter, barren loneliness, and if she ever confided in a mortal man, or tried to make love to one in an effort to break the curse, she would burn forever in the pits of hell. Magic and curses, being so strongly believed in, held much more power back then, and as she died, the curse became her reality.

And so, when she had sensed my spirit through the portal opened by the séance, she had come to me, hoping I would be the one who could finally see that she was worthwhile, that she could be loved. What she saw in me, I'll never know, but I'm glad she did. She had hoped that I would be strong enough of spirit to take her as she was, and to take her, literally, in the sexual meaning of the term. All along I thought she meant I needed to take her somewhere, but I really just needed to take her love. In taking her, I had set her free. She no longer wandered a purgatory of desperate loneliness.

And from somewhere came the knowledge that she bore my child. I had no idea what that even meant, for a ghost to bear your child, but there it is. I still don't really know what it means, but I have seen too many things I don't understand for me to require my understanding as a burden of proof. So, somewhere, I have a ghost child. Crazy, isn't it? I couldn't begin to wrap my head around all the ramifications, so I did the only thing I knew -- I just kept on going with my life. One foot in front of the other.

I went to pick up Sarah at the airport, and she knew right away that something had happened, before I could say a word.

"She's gone, isn't she?" She looked at me with sad, dark, sweet eyes. "Elisabetta is gone..."

"Yes," I answered, "she's gone. But it's OK. She's free now. She's not lonely any more." 

We sat silently in the car for a few minutes, just being together and holding hands.

"Do you miss her?" Sarah asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss her," I admitted, "but I'm so happy to have you!" I bent to kiss her. "I've realized how lucky we are to be so alive, and how wonderful you really are. I love you, Sarah." I kissed her again and put the car into drive. Someday I will tell her the rest of the story, because she is a part of it, and because we don't keep secrets from one another. But today, I just want to celebrate being alive. With her. 

"What do you say we go home and celebrate your promotion. Just you and me, for a change? Does that sound all right?" I hoped she wouldn't want to dwell too much on Elisabetta right now. I wanted this to be our time.

"Yeah," she said with a funny little smile. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I could get used to having you all to myself..."