The Case of the Host Ghost

(A bit of a backstory is required here that will set up and explain the sex later.)

Many of the people I work with have large homes and entertain friends and clients often. I attended a party at such a home a few weeks ago and conversation led to an interesting evening.

One of my colleagues, Scott, had purchased the house three years ago. It boasted large rooms, perfect for entertaining large crowds, six bedrooms and four bathrooms. The back porch was the length of the house, with large screened windows and plush furniture.

The patio outside was three levels, also the length of the house, complete with a stove, pizza oven, a sink and lots of storage space. Whomever had designed the house liked having people there.

During dinner, I asked Scott about the history of the house.

"The previous owner, who built the house in 1910, was rumored to have killed his wife by means of food poisoning, so that he could be with her younger sister."

"Did he go to jail for it?" I asked.

"No, they had no way to prove it back then, I guess, so he was never arrested or accused."

"These days," mentioned another guest, "they could have easily detected the poison and convicted him."

"True," replied Scott, "but he was plagued by what he claimed was his dead wife's ghost, and within a few years, he went mad and died in an institution. I bought the house from his grandson."

"So, your house is haunted then?" I asked jokingly.

"As a matter of fact, Will, we do have a resident ghost."

"How do you know that?"

"Sometimes at night we hear loud footsteps upstairs, like someone with heavy work boots, but there will be nobody upstairs and we have no work boots in the house."

Several of the guests, including me, looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"BUT, we do have a video of the ghost," Scott added.

"How?" I asked, "And can we see it?"

"We have Ring cameras outside the house in several areas for security reasons," Scott explained, "and one overlooks the outside patio. It recorded a gray blurry figure floating in the air near the patio. It paused a couple minutes and then moved a ways and dissipated."

Scott opened his cell phone and brought up the video and it was exactly as he described. The gray figure looked like a blurry shadow of a woman with long hair. The figure hovered near the patio for a couple minutes and then moved away and evaporated.

There were several couples who left after the party, but one couple stayed, as did I, joining Scott and his wife for an overnight stay. My bedroom was on the ground floor, off the living room. It was also the closest to the patio.

Sometime during the night, I awoke, smelling perfume, feint but definite. I felt the temperature in the room get cooler and I sensed I was not alone. I didn't hear anybody enter my room, nor could I see anyone, but I felt someone there.

Then I felt it; a hand, delicate and yet very cool to the touch, gently wrapping around my cock, even though my boxers were on and I had a light sheet covering me.

Another cool hand fondled my balls, and even though it was not warm, it aroused me. The hand holding my cock formed a fist and began to slowly stroke my shaft, tip to bottom. I was paralyzed. Was I dreaming? It couldn't be a dream; I was wide awake.

I was under the cover and my boxers were undisturbed except for the hands inside them, caressing my balls and my cock. It was frightening but wonderfully exciting, because the hands knew how to arouse me to the point of orgasm.

But they stopped. They stopped just as I thought I would come. Then as I caught my breath, they resumed, again taking me to the edge of an orgasm.

The scent of perfume became stronger as the cool hands took me to the edge a final time and I groaned out into the dark as my cum soaked my boxers and the sheet covering me. My hands had been idle at my sides the whole time.

I lay there trying to catch my breath and the hands faded away. The sweet scent of perfume dissipated, and I was left covered in my own sperm. I crawled out of bed, took off the soiled boxers, pulled the soiled sheet off the bed, and cleaned up.

The next morning at breakfast, Scott asked, "Well, did everybody sleep all right?"

I lied and said, "It was very restful, thanks."

The other couple gave a similar report, but later as we were getting in our cars, the male guest leaned over to whisper to me.

"That was weird! Somebody or something fingered my wife and sucked me off last night. We were afraid to turn on the lights."

I shared my experience with them and we all surmised that we must have been dreaming. Because there are no such things as ghosts, right?