Taken At A Funeral By A Ghost

Taken at a Funeral By a Ghost

The Sequel to

Taken at a Cemetery by a Ghost

Story is dedicated to DEGE, who commented on my first story that they hoped for a sequel and asked whether the girl in question would be taken by this ghost again and again. Although I had originally intended for Taken at a Cemetery by a Ghost to be a standalone, that comment got me thinking about what reasons a girl might decide to return to a cemetery after a spectral encounter like that, and I got this story. Super naughty, lol. Enjoy.

The next time I was forced to visit the cemetery was a month later, at my dear grandma's funeral.

She'd been a spritely woman for her age, still dancing and begging my parents to take her on road trips to the coast. Looking at her perpetually happy expressions, she looked a good twenty years younger than her ninety-eight years of age. She acted thirty years younger too, laughing at even the most obscene jokes that men typically would reserve for locker room talk.

I guessed she was just too old to care anymore. There was a certain freedom to growing old, a certain devil-may-care recklessness. A part of me clung to her spirit, hoping I could have even a fraction of the sparkle she possessed. She would have turned ninety-nine on Christmas. We'd all been hoping she would make a full century around the sun. At the very least, she'd passed peacefully into that good night.

As I passed through the same cemetery gates I'd run through on Halloween, I felt myself shiver. The memories I'd tried hard to put out of my mind crammed back in. Flashes of that ghostly encounter bombarded my thoughts as I tried to focus on helping my mom trudge through some early snowfall towards the chairs set up around my grandma's coffin. I disliked that now I had this association with the cemetery that was impeding on my ability to mourn my grandma in peace.

Surely that ghost was no longer around, I tried to rationalize, gritting my teeth as I surveyed the area. It was an overcast day, but still the afternoon. Ghosts could only roam around freely at night, right? Even though that ghost had taken great liberties with me on Halloween, surely it was just horny and opportunistic.

We were at a funeral now. Even the undead from the 19th century would have some decorum.

Right?

My anxiety spiked as I felt the wind pick up, playing idly with the loose strands of hair dangling off my forehead.

No, it's just a perfectly normal breeze,

I told myself, swallowing as I noted the large turnout.

My grandma had been quite a popular neighborhood citizen. The quintessential old lady who baked cookies and fed everyone like they were her own children. It warmed my heart to see so many familiar faces show up to pay their respects. I could only hope that I would make a similar impact on others someday.

I took my seat beside my mom as Pastor Fred shifted towards the podium situated beside the head of the coffin. I tried to focus on his words as he greeted everyone and made an encouraging speech about the afterlife and how my grandma was at peace now, blah, blah, blah, the usual spiel.

While my mind was too fraught with worry to focus on his specific words, I found the cadence of his solemn voice reassuring. I let them lull me into a sort of trance, and was just getting comfortable, letting down my guard, when a strange sensation overcame me. My eyes widened as I felt the zipper on the front of my trench coat pull down.

Fuck

. Definitely

not

the breeze. I slapped a hand over my zipper to pull it back up but met immediate resistance. This asshole of a ghost was going to mess with me during my grandma's service!

Angry tears began leaking from the corner of my eyes. I began to shake my head, trying to whisper "no, please, no," but that only caused my mom to glance over at me and mouth if I was okay.

Ugh, the only thing worse than having a ghost fuck you at a funeral was having your mom (and a hundred or more attendees)

witness

a ghost fucking you at a funeral.

I shook my head at my mom, smiling at her tightly. She went back to looking at the pastor, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

The unseen force, having successfully deterred me from zipping up my trench coat, began groping my breasts over my black dress. I regretted wearing this dress now. I didn't have any funeral-specific dresses, so I'd opted for the only little black dress I owned which, unfortunately, had quite a severe v-neck. I'd figured I'd just keep my coat on the whole time.

I gritted my teeth, annoyed that there was nothing I could do to stop him, and nothing I could do to get away from him either. I couldn't just stand up and walk away; people would think I was rude, and I didn't want to do anything to disrespect my grandma. Not just that, but I worried the ghost would manipulate me in ways that would humiliate me in front of everyone.

I prayed that this was all the ghost would do to me, even as my stomach roiled, intuitively knowing it wasn't...

Strangely enough, it was so cold outside that the ghost's hands on my mounds felt warm by comparison. I almost huffed at the fact that the ghost was, unintentionally, helping to warm me up. I could tell the old geezer was having a good time fondling me, because he bundled my breasts up tightly, smooshing them towards my chin, before letting them fall back down, pausing to watch them bounce.

I tried to stay as still as possible, hoping the open flaps of my coat would shield my chest from anyone who happened to look over. At least everyone was busy crying into tissues and watching the pastor speak. I was caught between trying to remember my grandma in a very PG13 fashion and getting slammed by spiking hot flashes from the ghost's ministrations. Resentment and anger, horror and humiliation built up within me with every obscene touch from the invisible monster.

Having enjoyed itself plenty, the ghost pulled the material of my dress down, forcing my breasts to pop out into the open. My face crumpled as I tried not to fight him, knowing I would lose and only draw attention to myself. Slowly, he brought his tongue to my nipple, flicking it slowly and deliberately, like he was keeping time to a metronome. I bit my lip in a bid to keep quiet. My fingers dug into the seat of my chair.

"Matilda was such a lovely lady," Pastor Fred said, his voice sweeping across the courtyard. "She will be dearly missed."

His gaze seemed to follow the same trajectory, scanning everyone's face like the swiveling light from a lighthouse. As his gaze met mine, I pulled the flaps of my coat even higher around me, hoping that he couldn't see anything untoward happening. My cheeks were already burning enough as it was, but at least he probably thought it was from the cold or grief.

As if knowing exactly what was happening, the ghost pinched my nipples hard, yanking them as far from my breasts as possible. I did my best to stifle my gasp, but I couldn't be sure that the pastor hadn't just caught sight of my getting-fucked face.

Sunday mornings were going to be extremely awkward from now on. I hurriedly looked down, hoping I was as invisible in the crowd as this ghost.

I swear I heard a chuckle, but it was ripped away by a sudden gust of wind. Everyone seemed to huddle into themselves as the cold air swirled around us. My ghostly assailant took the opportunity to suck my nipples hard, long enough to make my knees fold in on themselves as I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to keep it together. My pussy began throbbing painfully, my inner thighs tingling with slow menace.

Right before I could make a complete fool of myself, he stopped, his touch vanishing from my skin. Hastily, I covered my chest back up, wondering where he'd gone.

Well, I didn't have to wait long. The hem of my dress lifted, as innocuously as if the breeze had simply kicked it up. The ghost slipped between my legs, forcing them to spread for him. I squirmed in my seat as he pulled tauntingly at my g-string, letting it go to snap back against my pussy.

My pussy which was, horrifyingly, wet. I could feel my juices soak the flimsy material of my g-string, making my lips completely slick and ready for the taking. The ghost yanked me by my hips forward so that I fell against the back of my chair. I blinked up at the cloudy sky, praying that I could keep quiet.

As soon as the ghost closed his mouth around my clit, I knew it was a challenge I was going to lose. He licked me leisurely, like a cat lapping at a bowl of water, then gradually switched up to sucking me off like I was his favorite flavor of ice cream. My breaths were beginning to come out fast and shallow now. I felt dizzy. My hands gripped my armrests with renewed ferocity. A tiny whimper escaped my mouth.

"Honey, are you okay?"

My eyes widened as I turned to see my mom's concerned face looking back at me. Her hand moved to my forehead to see if I had a fever. Hastily, I drew my coat closer around me, to mask how I was beginning to shake. Oh my

god

, my legs just wanted to dig into a real man's back, my hands just wanted to fist themselves in someone's hair! I was getting so worked up, it nearly made me want to cry that I wasn't being sucked off in a private room where I could just scream as much as I wanted.

This pesky ghost was really killing me.

Shaking my head to steel myself against the waves of pleasure buffeting me with every letter this apparition drew with his tongue against my clit, I tried to smile. "I'm fine... mom. Just... sad, is all."

She gave me a watery smile in return, nodding smally. "I know, darling. It's hard." With a sigh, she turned back towards the pastor. I sighed in relief.

Only to hiss as my damn ghost lover began dragging his tongue all the way down to my aching pussy and towards the crack between my ass cheeks. My thighs trembled, pressing hard against the ghostly figure between them. I couldn't hold it together much longer. Without the ability to thrust my hips into his face and get rid of the raging energy coiling hard like a spring within me, I was only being worked up more and more into a bomb that was bound to detonate at any moment. I bit my lip once more, trying not to whimper as I began to rock my hips as subtly as I could against the friction.

Oh my god, that feels so fucking good,

I wanted to moan. I'd always been loud in bed; most of the time, the guys I slept with liked it. The only times they'd gotten mad at me were when they were trying to fuck me with their parents downstairs. It was literally killing me to not be able to whine and moan like I desperately needed to.

Knowing how hard I was trying to silence myself, the ghost slid a single finger between my soaking wet folds. I threw back my head a little, gritting my teeth hard as I struggled to accept his digit into my heat without crying out. Oh, he felt so fucking good. Intense need burned through me, making me see red.

It was so fucking inappropriate, I felt guilty every time I glimpsed my grandma's casket in my hazy vision.

And yet, I was beginning to lose control, my hot desire making me blind to the consequences. My breaths came out hot and fast as he curled his finger into my g-spot, tapping me exactly as I needed to cum in a matter of moments. I frantically gripped my seat, knowing that I absolutely could not cum. Not in front of all these people. Never in the history of all my orgasms had I managed to keep silent. I gasped a tad bit too loudly as I gushed in response to a particularly pleasurable glide against my pulsing bean.

"Just keep it together a little longer, Callie," my dad said from around my mom.

Good lord

. My face burned as I stared straight ahead, too embarrassed to meet my father's probing gaze. "It will be over soon enough."

I knew he was talking about the funeral, but his words were eerily, humiliatingly spot on for my predicament. I could do nothing except bite my lip and nod furiously at my father, hoping he kept on thinking this was me being desperately full of grief, not erotic pleasure. Thankfully, after a long, awkward, painful moment, my dad returned his gaze to the pastor.

That was when, for a beat, the ghost withdrew, leaving my pussy clenching angrily around nothing. I didn't know whether I felt more angry or relieved at being denied. I took a slow, shuddering breath to recover.

But then it plied me with two fingers, pumping me long and slowly at first, then drilling into me like it was trying to mine my screams of pleasure, enough to drive me absolutely insane with lust. I tried to stop it, but I bucked, my mouth opening in a silent cry as I—

"Callie, would you like to say a few words?"

Horrified, I startled, immediately snapping my mouth shut. Whirling in the direction of the pastor, I blinked rapidly, trying to reverse the direction of my incoming climax. If that was even possible. I panicked, feeling myself hurtle towards that inevitable conclusion.

"Um, I'm good," I stuttered, desperately willing for everyone to look away from me. I could feel all two hundred eyes staring at me.

Right before I was thrown off the edge of pleasure, the ghost miraculously let me go, dissipating from between my legs. I quaked, my clit tingling and my pussy mad as fire as I tried not to cry at having been denied.

"Don't be shy, Callie," the pastor said encouragingly, giving me a warm smile. Apparently he really was oblivious to my state of arousal—or maybe his vision just wasn't very good. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe he hadn't seen my face very well without his spectacles, which at least afforded me a small sense of relieved humility. "We'd all love to hear what fond memories you have of your grandmother."

My parents were also giving me encouraging looks, so I didn't really have a choice. Trying to recover from being mere moments away from spilling over the edge, I swallowed and adjusted my clothes, drawing my coat securely around myself once more. Shakily, with a sense of impending doom like I was about to be led to my public execution, I stood up, and wobbly walked over to the podium, exchanging places with the pastor. The pastor walked over to my seat and sat down right where my juices had probably stained the chair, making me cringe inwardly.

"Um, hi, everyone," I said, still breathless from the experience. I scrambled to think of something intelligent to say, my mind not at all focused. I stared out at the sea of faces, many of them I recognized. There were neighbors I grew up with, aunts and uncles and my cousins, and even some of my friends had shown up, even though I'd been too distraught to even spread the word about my grandma's funeral. My parents had taken care of all the logistics. I swallowed hard as I caught my best friend's eye. Josh shot me a thumbs up, mouthing that I had it. I gave him a quick smile in response, then quickly brought my gaze back down to the podium.

How was I going to talk about my grandma in front of the entire community when all I could think about was how sexually frustrated I was? It was madness...

Something shoved me from behind, knocking my hips into the podium. The microphone screeched some feedback like a demented bird, making me cringe. Fear gnawed at my insides, knowing that the fucking ghost had terrible plans in store for me...

"Sorry everyone," I murmured, trying to cover up my discomfort with awkward laughter. For lack of anything else to do, I scratched my head, trying to bring some of my favorite memories with my grandma to mind. I just had to stammer out a speech. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could excuse myself to the bathroom and at least get myself away from the penetrating gazes of the crowd. It seemed that I was under extreme scrutiny from every corner of the gathering. My stomach rolled, and I felt weak with the thought that this ghost was going to take me in front of everyone I knew...

I really didn't want my seventy-year-old neighbors knowing what my O face looked like.

"Um, I was very close to my grandma. She was there from the very moment I was born, I've been told, and was one of the first people to hold me."

I gasped as the back of my skirt lifted in the breeze, as the nasty spirit held me from behind, pushing me down lower to the podium. Its ghostly arms wrapped round my tiny waist, its hands reaching to maul my breasts through my dress. Oh, lord, thank god the front of the podium was high, shielding my bosom from view. I gripped the edges of the podium, praying that nobody could see the state I was in. Hopefully the podium blocked my dress from view, even to those sitting far on the sidelines.

I closed my eyes, completely horrified, whimpering as the ghost dragged my g-string down, along the length of my thighs to around my knees. With my legs spread, they were fully stretched, probably a second away from snapping from the tension, just like I was. I felt my hair fall around my face like a veil, and I prayed I could just magically disappear as the ghost slowly fingered my entrance, feeling how wet I was for it. The head of its dick slid between my thighs, knocking on my door.

Fuck

. It was massive. I could tell. Even though it'd fucked me before, it felt even bigger than it had that Halloween night. I shivered and whimpered again as the head of its dick slipped between my pussy lips, sinking deep into me. I moaned, slumping into the podium even more for protection.

"Callie, are you okay?" A voice broke through my lust-driven reverie, instantly making my head pop up.

Fuck

. I had to control myself better. Through bleary eyes, I could see everyone staring at me with concern.

"Yeah, sorry." I cleared my throat, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I coughed a couple of times, loudly, to mask the sound I actually wanted to make, as the ghost pushed all the way into me, filling me to the brim. My fingers tightened on the podium edges once more as it took me to its hilt, spearing me on its thick shaft. I squeaked, louder than I'd meant to, and tried to turn it into a sob of grief. I had no idea how many people were buying my act, but it was all I had to offer. The ghost hovered within me, simply remaining still as its huge dick pulsated gently between my folds, feeling like a beacon calling into the night.

"Um, sorry," I said, my mind a complete mess as I tried to search for a way out of this. "I'm just... not feeling so well." The ghost decided to pinch my nipples, hard, at that very moment, sending me jumping against the podium, yelping. I caught a number of the audience members jumping in their own seats, startled by my outburst.

"Um, this is really

hard

"—my voice trembled as my pussy clenched achingly around the ghost's rock hard member—"for me right now." I swallowed, shaking my head at the unintended double entendre. "It's hard for me to come"—the ghost smacked my ass then, promptly moving one of its hands down to my clit to begin rubbing me in defiance of my words—"up with words to describe..."

My eyes sank shut as the ghost began slowly pulling out from me, until it was just its head between my dripping folds. Just as torturously slowly, he slid himself back in, the friction between us feeling utterly delicious. My eyes rolled back as I struggled to keep my breathing even.

"... my grandma. Oh, she was just

so good

..." I gasped, unable to hold myself back as the flames of pleasure began battering me. With every touch, the ghost brought me agonizingly closer to the edge.

"She had a heart of gold," I stammered, trying to focus on my grandma and ignore the roaring sensations building up within me. I couldn't just give up. I could still feel everyone's gaze tethered to me, waiting for me to give the eulogy my grandma deserved. "She was the... perfect grandma. She always...

oh...

played with me...

oh...

even when I was being a naughty, whiny brat." Fuck, had I said that? I hadn't meant to. I blinked, biting my lip to prevent another obnoxious moan from leaving my mouth. As if in retaliation, the ghost began picking up its pace now, making sure to slam hard enough into me that my hips knocked against the stadium with each sharp thrust.