Ghost Lover 3

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."