When Cara awoke, it was well into the afternoon, and sunlight was streaming in through the sheer curtains.
"Ow." She winced against the brightness, shielding her eyes as she looked around, half-expecting a party of ghosts to be surrounding the bed. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on how she chose to look at it - there were none to be found.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying (and failing) to remember what had happened the night before. She very, very vividly recalled being fucked silly by an invisible man, but she had passed out shortly after he'd told her of his true intentions for her. Had his ghostly friends taken a turn at her while she'd been unconscious?
It certainly didn't feel as though her body had been ravaged overnight, aside from the lingering aches from the first ghost. Had they simply given up? Or were they out of the house now, haunting some other place?
Cara slowly got to her feet, stretching and yawning, her naked flesh warm in the dying summer light. Her pussy, against all odds, was still astoundingly wet, and she had to physically stop herself from simply collapsing on the bed again and fingering herself to orgasm.
Wrapping a thin blanket around her shoulders - more for security than warmth - she tiptoed out onto the first floor landing, then downstairs, waiting for any sign of paranormal activity.
The house she'd recently inherited was deathly quiet, so she turned on the TV (again, more for background noise), and made some toast to fill her grumbling stomach.
How had last night even happened? Should she call ... well, who should she call? Ghostbusters? A priest? A Voodoo witch? Would anyone really believe she'd been fucked by a ghost? After all, she'd enjoyed it - rather a lot, actually.
Maybe ... maybe she didn't want the ghost to leave.
She groaned. It was all a lot easier when she was just a boring college student, living in a boring, non-haunted apartment, with a boring fuck buddy.
It wasn't until she'd done the dishes and turned to go upstairs once more that she heard it:
A masculine, broken moan.
Coming from the basement.
Biting her lip, Cara deliberated her situation. She was ridiculously horny at the mere thought of her ghost filling her the way he had the night before, but then, what if he did have more ghost-friends down there? Could she handle an entire gang of them?
Her dripping, aching pussy told her that, yes, she definitely could.
"Cara," whispered a voice - a male voice that echoed around her, as though it was coming from the very walls, "Cara, come to me ... join me, little one ... let me have you again..."
Well, Cara had never claimed to have an iron will.
She all but ran downstairs into the basement, only screeching to a halt when she saw what had happened down there: the entire space was alight with hundreds of candles, the smell of incense thick in the air.
"Such an obedient kitten," purred a distant voice. Shivers wracked her frame suddenly, but she wasn't afraid. No, far from it. "Drop the blanket and show me your flesh, Cara." She obeyed mindlessly, stepping into the circle of flickering candles so every inch of her was illuminated. Chuckles resounded from around her, mingled with some groans and gasps, and her eyes widened.
"Yes, little one," chuckled the voice - her ghost's voice. "I have many friends with me tonight, and it is all thanks to you. They cannot speak as I can, but trust me, they are eager to show you their gratitude for bringing them here... Kneel, precious. I need to show my companions how you like to be fucked, how well your sweet pussy can take my cock, how much of a slut you are for me."
