A Ghost's Tale

"You're joking!"

Belinda cocked an eyebrow and Michael shrugged his angular shoulders.

"It's God's honest truth, Bel," Michael said. "My folks bought the house at a tax auction. They figured it'd give me a place to stay while in college and then rent it when I'm out."

Belinda folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she pursed her lips.

"But why that house?"

Michael broke into a wide grin, "What? Didn't have any fun there?"

Belinda grinned and glanced downward. She took a sweet, deep breath and the memories of a passionate encounter resurfaced. The young woman cooed softly. Her cool green eyes opened slowly and refocused on her boyfriend. She took another snorting breath and suppressed the memories of passion for a moment of practicality.

"Michael," she started, "is the house even livable?"

"Well, the bones on it are great. Dad's there now making sure the water will run and the power works. Um..."

"Um.... What?" Belinda asked.

"My folks are making me live there and fix the place."

She felt hollow. Hollow like the cold, dank room that surrounded her. She remembered the couple, alive, passionate, and the spark it ignited in her. She forgot to walk the halls. They were no longer warm and lush, but dusty and tattered. A musty dank filled her nostrils wherever she went. The scant furniture that remained was covered with a threadbare cloth.

Then a faint spice caught the air. She scented it and remembered.

The young man.

He returned.

She dashed out of her dank room and smiled. Pulling her wispy gown around her, she padded down the stairs and found, once again, he was not alone.

"You're right, man. This is one helluva fixer upper."

Michael turned to his friend and shrugged. "What can you say, David? It's not exactly like we're on Flip That House or anything."

David dropped his large duffel bag and knapsack. He scratched the day old scruff on his chin and appraised the large room. Michael grinned. He and his friend, more his friend, were always building or tinkering. If it were a bike, it needed to go faster. If it were a shed, it needed to withstand a direct nuclear blast.

"Well," David mused, "at least the power works."

"And the plumbing too," Michael responded. "Well, at least in this one downstairs bathroom, but plumbing and electrical aren't things we're worrying about. We're just dry wall and carpentry guys."

"This job is going to take a while," David said as he moved around the room.

She pulled her gossamer robe around her body tightly as she watched this other young man. He walked with a casual elegance, unlike the excitable prance of the first one. His dark hair was lightened by the sun and his dusky skin was testament to a love of the outdoors. Both young men were handsome, but in different ways. The first young man was well built, but almost foppish, but his companion. He was of the earth.

Michael found himself in the makeshift kitchen. A refrigerator sat away from the wall, plugged in. He opened the door and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Michael returned to the center room and handed his friend a bottle and sat down. "I could have used your help getting all this crap in here," he groused half-heartedly.

"Yeah," David retorted glibly, "damn that thing called 'a job.'"

Michael laughed deeply and then took a large gulp from his bottle.

David finished his beer and stretched. "Okay, man. I'm gonna get settled. See you in the morning."

"Sleep tight."

David gathered his bags and entered one of the nearby rooms. He could tell he stepped into an old library, but it was near the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. His full size bed crowded the room, but the built in bookcases made a convenient place to store his few things. He vowed to get them out of storage as soon as one of the upstairs rooms was livable.

She sat by the first young man and remembered his taste in her mouth. A lustful grin slowly crept across her face and she sprawled across his lap. Her gossamer gown opened nonchalantly. She grinned and stroked his chin with her fingers.

"Missed you," she giggled.

But despite her teasing, there was no response from him. She pursed her lips together and furrowed her brow. When last she saw the young man, he burned hot, like a fire. But now? Cold. A jealous thought wrinkled her lip as she sat up, but she felt a gentle warmth coming from the old library. Once again wrapping the gown around her body, she padded over and slipped inside.

The other young man softly caressed the bookcase. She felt his admiration for the craftsman. He glanced around the room and a sense of selfless pride emanated from him. Then the young man peeled his shirt off, revealing his smooth, muscular chest. He quickly unhitched his belt and slid his denim jeans off his body. Socks went next followed by his tight boxing style under things.

She coyly looked away, but remained focused on the muscular young man as he climbed, naked, into his bed.

"Oh, my..." she gasped with feigned innocence. She watched the simple quilt form around the young man and admired him for a few moments. That admiration quickly turned to desire. She approached and sat on his bed. His eyes were closed, and he breathed softly. Delicately, she caressed his chest. And she felt him. A spark shot through her as she laid down along side him. She slipped her hand under the quilt and ran her fingers along his bare skin.

She listened to his breath shudder slightly as a rasping moan escaped his opening lips.

Her hand glided down his chest and across his firm stomach. She smiled at him as her hand dipped past his navel and her fingers folded around his sex. It was relaxed, but she still delighted in its heaviness in her hand. She started caressing it. Slowly moving her hand up and down until it began responding. His sex thickened first, and then grew both in length and in girth. He gave a low throat groan of approval in his sleep.

She picked up her speed and soon she could barely close her fist around his member. The quilt flapped with each stroke, and she felt the burn of life again. She slipped her hand away only to lift the quilt and slide beneath it with him. She slipped out of the gossamer robe and molded her nakedness to his.

He sighed contentedly as she wrapped her fingers around his proud sex once more. She massaged him and leaned to his chest. She kissed his nipple as she moved around him. Not letting his member go, she moved her hand form the base to the tip, only to flutter her fingers back down. Dragging her body against his, she kissed his chest, his stomach and soon found herself between his strong thighs. She stared at his beautiful cock in her hands before sliding her tongue from the base to the tip. She savored the taste of his flesh before licking him again.

The reawakened embers of her passions flared to life again.

She wrapped her lips over his cock. Her lips formed a ring behind his base, holding his thickness in her mouth as she rolled her tongue across his mushroom head. Her ears filled with his groans of pleasure. She smiled and bobbed her head up and down on his cock. His spicy taste danced on her tongue and her own passions overtook her. All she wanted was the salty taste of his cum in her mouth. And she slid his proud cock deep and closed her throat around it. She rocked her entire body up and down on his cock, frantically trying to milk him.

Soon, she tasted the salty drops of precum.

Soon she felt his power pool.

His cock quivered in her mouth.

And, like a geyser, he erupted.