Ghostie

Everyone warned me the house was haunted when I bought it. They told me no owner had ever lasted beyond a year. It was haunted, that was always emphasized, and no one seemed to want the place.

If I had known how the haunting manifested, I would have made a much higher offer.

When the first week passed without incident, I thought it had all been an elaborate prank. As the first month passed quickly and quietly, I started to relax. By the end of the second month, I had all but forgotten about the supposed ghostly inhabitant. It was three months to the day I moved in that I first felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise when I stepped out of the shower. There was a shift in the air; that's the only way to describe it. I don't mean to say I saw a ghost - it would have been easier if I had. Instead, there was just a vague feeling of being watched. It was the same feeling I used to get walking home late at night when I lived in the city. That constant reminder that there are people all around me, to stay on guard, be vigilant. I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs of paranoia. I had to laugh at myself; clearly, the stories the former owner had told were getting to me. I pulled on my pajamas and climbed into bed, collapsing into a dreamless sleep.

Over the course of the next few weeks, it got harder to ignore the sensation of being watched. There was no pattern to the prickling at the back of my neck. Sometimes it came over me when I was making dinner, sometimes as I was doing my makeup for the day. I often noticed it when I was in the shower at the end of the day. When nothing ever came of it, I chalked my hypervigilance up as too many stories of peeping toms and unsolved murder mysteries - a guilty pleasure I couldn't quite shake, despite the minor paranoia it created.

Eventually, I got used to the sensation. I couldn't tell if it was all in my head or if I really was sharing my home with a ghost, but I had to laugh at the absolute scaredy cats that lived here before me. If these were the "nightly visitations" that bothered the previous owners so much, they were absolute weaklings!

As I grew accustomed to the vague sensation of being observed, I started to use the strange presence to my advantage. Ever since I was a teenager, when my fingers roamed over my flesh in the quiet of the darkness, I would create elaborate fantasies of alleyway fucking or masturbating on trains, or would even imagine a stranger peering in my window. The titillating idea of someone watching me, wanting me, lusting after me always made orgasms so much stronger. Now, whether this ghostie was real or a figment of my imagination, I got to dream of my personal voyeur watching every time I made myself cum.

Late one night, as summer gave way to the coolness of early autumn, I struggled into wakefulness, confused and disoriented. I had been in the middle of the most delicious dream. A wicked and beautiful woman had been sitting next to me in the darkness of a movie theatre. While the screen flickered in front of us, her deft fingers flicked back and forth over my clit, driving me to distraction. I bit back a moan as she teased me, trying not to draw attention to what we were doing. She kept her eyes on the movie screen, never so much as glancing my way, teasing me closer to orgasm. I tried to shift my hips discreetly to get a little more pressure on my clit, but she withdrew her hand and I choked back a frustrated "fuck you." Over and over she did this, bringing me right up to the edge, only to deny me each time. This erotic game of cat and mouse dragged on for an eternity, my subconscious resisting an orgasm in ways my flesh never could. Then, right when I felt the undeniable build of an orgasm about to release, I startled awake.

I groaned in absolute frustration; of COURSE I would wake up right before the good part! Grumbling, I pulled the blankets off my overheated body and settled my hand between my thighs. I was shocked to see how swollen my cunt was. This wasn't the first dream that had me wet when I awoke, but it was unusual for me to be this physically aroused. At least that meant it wasn't going to take long at all to chase down the orgasm that had evaded me in my dream. I slid my middle finger down towards my slick opening and gasped in shock when an ice cold draft blew over my skin.

My nipples prickled at the sudden sensation. I must have left the window open, I love sleeping in a cold room. I spread my legs, my hips undulating as I stroked my clit slowly and deliberately. While I had initially intended to just rub one out so I could fall back asleep, the crisp breeze had shaken me into full wakefulness. Inspired by the movie theatre of my subconscious, I wanted to drag the pleasure out as long as possible. The icy breeze cut across my chest again, even colder, but it seemed to be moving slower, almost like a lover's hand dragging over my skin. I groaned, letting my mind wander to thoughts of a mysterious stranger groping me surreptitiously.

Without warning, the chilly draft changed direction and dragged deliberately down my stomach, splitting to smooth over spread legs without so much as a whisper against my cunt. My eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright in bed.

"That's not fucking possible," I mumbled to myself. "That... that can't be." The breeze vanished and its absence made me painfully aware of how hot my skin was, how flushed and heated I felt.

Lying there in the darkness, the realtor's observations came flooding back to the forefront of my brain. "Technically, there's nothing wrong with the house. Even though it was built in the 1920s, it was completely renovated about ten years ago. Since the renovation, you're the sixth person to buy it. People don't seem to last here. Rumor has it there's a poltergeist. Obviously that's pure nonsense, but each owner has insisted that after a few months, they can't seem to sleep through the night. Granted, none of them have ever really been able to tell me why; they all just turn red and mumble something about strange noises and change the subject. I sincerely hope nine is the magic number - I'm tired of reselling this house!"

I slid out of bed and flicked the light on, pulling a silk bathrobe around me. Clearly, I was losing it if I was starting to believe in ghosts. At the same time, no draft could have changed direction like that inside a house. I turned to close the window closest to my bed and my jaw dropped to see it was not only closed, but latched shut. My heart racing, I rushed over to the opposite side of the bedroom only to discover THAT window was also shut tight. I collapsed into an oversized armchair and stared at myself in the ornate antique mirror perched in the corner of the room. God, I look simultaneously terrified...and thoroughly fucked.

My eyes were wide and my face pale from the confusion and fear. My hair, in a rat's nest of tangles, looked for all the world like a lover had been gripping it, turning it into a handhold to control me. My nipples were hard points showing through the delicate silk of my bathrobe; I let it fall open, exposing a strip of soft skin down the center of my body. Unable to ignore the undercurrent of arousal that hadn't dissipated yet, I spread my legs once more and stared at my swollen lips glistening wet in the soft glow of lamplight. I took a deep breath and, keeping my gaze locked on my wanton reflection, I whispered into the empty room, "Please. Show me I'm not going crazy."

My reflection stared back at me, my frozen twin holding her breath as one minute passed, and then another. Nothing happened. I chanced another whisper. "Are you just in my imagination? Please. Please, I cannot handle a mental breakdown right now. " My mood was quickly dropping from horny to humiliated; thank god no one else was actually there to witness my delusions. I sighed and dropped my head back on the chair, closing my eyes against my own embarrassment. Back to bed, I suppose.

The icy breeze rippled down the opening in my bathrobe and I shrieked in surprise, nearly sliding out of the chair as I jumped out of my skin. "NO WAY!" I screamed. "No FUCKING way!" A grin broke out as I realized I might have lost it, but that didn't mean I couldn't have some fun.

"Alright, smartass. You wanna play that way? Fine. Challenge accepted. Prove to me you're real. Prove to me without a shadow of a doubt that you're not just my wildly overactive imagination."

I settled myself in the chair and waited. To my terrified delight, I barely had to wait. Within the span of a heartbeat or two, the icy breeze traced a line up my stomach, between my breasts, swirled around my throat, and brushed the edge of my ear. I let out a low moan, surrendering to the caress. It wound along my jawline and across my lips; I opened my mouth involuntarily and was rewarded with the impossible sensation of cool pressure on my tongue. What had started as a feather light touch was somehow becoming denser and heavier, like cold, smooth glass. I watched my reflection, mouth open and tongue moving as though there were fingers in my mouth. The cold pressure slowly pulled out of my mouth and I watched in rapt fascination as my lower lip was dragged down, rebounding back into place when the touch dropped away.

Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

I smirked. "Is that the best you've got? A quick little fondle that might be a face fuck when it grows up?" I held my breath as the air froze around me. Nervous anticipation built and just as I started to regret my bratty tongue, a coil of cold wound around my neck, squeezing ever so slightly. I let out a moan and grinned. Now we're talking!

I gripped the arms of the chair, determined to let this strange invisible presence do... honestly, whatever it wanted. While the cold band around my throat pressed against my throat, pinning me to the chair, another icy hand slid down my chest, settling on one breast. I watch, breathless, as the soft flesh of my breast puckered and dimpled, indentations pressed into my skin. I let out a soft gasp as my nipple was pinched and rolled. Heat rose in me. The ice around my neck dissolved and twin points of cold held my other breast. My back arched as invisible hands first pinched, then tugged gently on my nipples. In the mirror, my breasts moved under the invisible influence, lifting when the ghost pulled on them and then dropped them.

All at once, the cold disappeared and I blushed at the involuntary little whimper that escaped me. It was so fucking hot have an unobstructed view of my body getting teased like that, without a lover's body or even a hand to block the view. My gaze had gone soft, that unfocused look of heavy lust obvious in my parted lips and heavy eyelids. My nipples still stood out, aching for more attention, and my hips ground slowly as I tried to will myself to orgasm. I dug my fingers into the armchair, determined to resist the urge to slide them knuckle-deep into myself. Just as I was about to crack, that beautifully cold, glass-like sensation returned. It lifted my right foot and traced a languid line up my calf and up along my inner thigh, grazing ever-so-carefully along the damp hair between my legs.

I moaned in frustration, desperate for more. As though the ghost could read my thoughts, two icy hands grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the chair. Startled, I nearly toppled over, but my right leg hooked over a solid surface I couldn't see in either the mirror or between my legs.

I laughed, teasing the ghost. "My my, on your knees for me the first time we fuck? What a good...little...ghostie," my words trailed off into a moan as the cold pooled between my legs.

The amorphous cold formed into lithe, agile fingers. They dragged slowly along my inner thighs, kneading and massaging as they neared the slick entrance of my cunt. I couldn't take my eyes off the sight in the mirror as I watched my flesh parted under my invisible lover's insistent demand. Part of me desperately wished I could see the ghost's finger slide into my body; the rest was too turned on by the sight of my opening widening to accommodate the invisible flesh. The cold slid in and out of my cunt at a frustratingly slow and steady pace. I squirmed, trying to press up into the touch, trying to urge the ghost to move quicker. I'd been on the edge for so long, it didn't seem possible that I haven't cum yet. Another finger pushed in alongside the first and I groaned as it stretched me. I chanced a look in the mirror and immediately felt my face flush at the sight of the literal puddle dripping out of me. I clenched around the ghost's fingers wondering if I could kegel my way to the orgasm I was craving.

Instantly, a collar of ice wove around my throat, tightening to the point that I could barely breathe. My focus shifted to the difficult task of breathing. When a third finger slipped inside me and a shock of ice hit my clit, I realized any illusion of being in control of this situation was just that - an illusion. The fingers moved faster, pulling almost all the way out of me, only to rush back in, rubbing against my clit with each pass. My heart was racing and my breath hissed out in tiny little gasps as the inevitable orgasm built. In the mirror, I saw my hips rocking in time to the finger fucking, my swollen cunt spread on display by my leg slung over the ghost's shoulder.

"Please, please, please," I whispered, "god I'm so close. Please, please, please..." the mantra poured out of me, practically incoherent. The fingers settled deep in me, flexing slightly, while the thumb on my clit started rubbing quick circles. I screamed with pleasure as the orgasm exploded through me, the walls of my cunt spasming around the cool glassy fingers buried there. The orgasm felt like it dragged on forever. That invisible thumb traced maddening circles across my clit. Just as it started to subside, the fingers start fucking me again, faster this time, and I was immediately flung back into another orgasm. My back arched and my head dropped back while wave after wave of orgasm pulsed through me, until my cries of pleasure subsided into whimpers and moans.

All at once, the cold presence vanished. It didn't withdraw or drop away; it simply evaporated. My leg dropped down onto the chair with a sudden whump and the sensation of a full, stretched cunt was just...distressingly gone. I sprawled there, limbs hanging as though I were a marionette who had her strings abruptly cut. I luxuriated in the post-orgasm glow as my heartrate steadied and I caught my breath.

"Well," I said weakly into the dim light of dawn creeping through the window. "If you're trying to scare me off, that isn't going to work. I don't know what kind of prudes tried to live here before me, but believe me when I say...Challenge Accepted."