The Night Visitor

I awaken, and realize suddenly that there is someone in my bedroom! I feel that person get into bed beside me! He is heavy. The bed sinks on his side more than it does on mine. I hold my breath and wait for an attack. Nothing happens, but I do not relax. I keep still and try to breathe as I think I would do if I were really asleep. I do not want him to know that I am awake. I open my eyes just a crack and look into the pitch black room for answers. I find none. I turn my head and sigh, hoping that it looks as if I am just turning in my slumber. Obviously I do not know how I look turning in my sleep, but now is not the time for rational thought.

I position myself, more advantageously to offer some resistance should I need to defend myself. I think of screaming. I try to scream. My throat is tight! It makes almost no sound. I try again and it is only a little better. I am more annoyed than frightened by this. I have learned something about myself. I do not like what I have learned.

***

I awaken thinking that I have had the worst of all nightmares. I am too embarrassed to tell anyone about it. This is nonsense. I do not believe in ghosts. I cannot explain the events of last night. I go through my day trying not to think about my experience. I must remember not to snack so late at night. I watch comedy on the television, trying to cheer myself up, trying to ensure that tonight will be better than last night. Try as I might though, I cannot forget my horrible dream.

He has returned! He stands over me in the bed. It wasn't a dream last night after all! He steps over me! I can feel the bed move with each step as he walks possessively in my sanctuary. I hear the sound of my mattress yielding to the pressure of his weight. My finger snakes to the power button of the laptop that lies on the bed next to me and I turn it on illuminating the room. I can see nothing lurking in the shadows. My laptop and I are alone in my bed. I leap up suddenly, beyond the reach of possibly grasping hands owned by men hidden under my bed, and turn on the lights. I can see nothing! I look under the bed and spy my slippers and two stray pieces of paper. My disquieted thoughts, the light and my laptop keep me company for the rest of the night.

***

This is his third night! I cannot see him though I have left all the lights on and my eyes are open. I feel him though. He is straddling me, standing over me in my bed! I feel him squat and sit on my legs! I cannot move! I know that he is watching me though he has no face or eyes that I can see. I feel the bed sink and I know that he is leaving, but, God help me, I know that he will return tomorrow night. I am very afraid.

***

I wake up from a dreamless sleep. Why am I naked?!!??! Why are my hands above my head clasping my bedposts as if they have been tied there? Why are my legs spread? I want to scream but think better of it. How could I explain this to anyone? It occurs to me eventually that my hands are not tied and I jerk them away and pull my nightie down from around my neck. I pull up my panties and reach for the bedcovers that are lying on the floor. I still expect hands to grab me from below. I am terrified! What did he do to me tonight? What does it mean if a ghost has sex with me? Surely I could not get pregnant. Did he enjoy himself? What does he think of me? Will he kill me so that he can have me? This is the sickest thing that I can contemplate!

I decide to tell my lover what is happening to me. I tell him that I found myself naked when I awakened. He is shocked. He speculates that I must have had a very erotic dream, even if I don't remember it. He knows that I like to be tied up, naked. My silk scarves allow for unremitting feather torture. He knows that I like to have my legs spread roughly and not be able to prevent him from eating my pussy like a juicy fruit before taking me with deep, deliberate strokes. He knows that having my nipples chewed and my ass licked project me into orbit. He knows that I suckle my own breasts when he is not around to do it for me. My lover knows these things about me. The phantom in my room obviously knows these things about me too! He seems to know that my lover has not been there for me recently and that I am as horny as hell!

I shrug off the unfortunate choice of words immediately and try to reason calmly with myself. Why would he want me naked? How long has he been watching us? How long has he been dead? How long without a mate? What are his plans for me? For my lover!??!?

My lover reaches across and tickles my cunt through my clothes; calling me out to play. He looks at me lustfully. It is obvious to him that I miss him more than I care to admit. Right now, his libido is the last thing on my mind. I bite back my annoyance and refrain from informing him of that.

I am afraid to go to bed tonight. I sit up watching inane television until my eyes burn. I consider sleeping right where I am in the drawing room. How would I explain this to my housemates though? How can I explain any of this to them? I cannot tell them that I found myself naked in bed this morning. I go to bed reluctantly and fall asleep quickly. I am exhausted. I do not know if he is watching me. I do not care anymore.

***

He does not come tonight and I am thankful. I think about him though. Who is he, and why has he come to me? I wonder about him being a phantom. Aren't they supposed to be weightless? Shouldn't I be able to see him? What is he then if not a ghost? Whose ghost would he be? No one has died in this building or on these grounds; certainly no one in the past 50 years.

I think about the fact that he has not hurt me and wonder if he is an angel. I remember my nakedness and strange horniness of two nights ago and decide that he can't be an angel. He must be something else. The word demon comes to mind and I reject it instantly. The thought of attracting the attentions of a demon is not pleasant. What will happen if he grows to love me? What sort of woman does that make me? What will happen when he tires of me?

Suddenly he is there again. I know this because I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. I sense that I am not alone anymore. I look for him but he does not appear to me. Instead he seems to be waiting for me to make a decision.

I do not know why it is that suddenly I feel sorry for him. The thought of wandering through time without friends and lovers seems a burden that no one should have to bear. Suddenly, I am no longer afraid of him and I decide to be kind.

I strip myself slowly, a striptease that I would not dare with a real life lover, and caress my breasts lovingly. The room is pleasantly warm, but as my nipples become exposed to my invisible lover they harden painfully. It is not the night air that has me in this state. It is always warm in Jamaica during the summer. Shivers run along my spine and I push away thoughts of what I am about to do. It is as if my lover is playing me like a stringed instrument. My body is taut with need and over the next twenty minutes I play with myself for him.

I pluck at my turgid nipples roughly, giving myself a delicious tingle. I tickle my nubs and squeeze my mammaries together giving them gentle kisses and nibbles. My hands weigh and caress my orbs and I offer them to my invisible paramour. My hand slides down my stomach and cups my mons before snaking its fingers into my slippery cunt. I plough into my molten slickness and revel in the loud slurping that my copious juices produce. I play with my painfully engorged clit; and scooping up the wetness with my fingers, I put them into my mouth for him naughtily. I paint my nipples with my own juices, shining them for him. I press forward and lick the sticky wetness from my erect nubs for him. I lie back on my bed and spread my legs wide as if inviting him to recline between my thighs and show me his strength.

He responds! Feather light traces ghost on my side like fingers threatening to tickle me. My nipple elongates and I feel a sucking. I respond as if he is really there. My moan is all the encouragement that I can give since I cannot caress him in return. My legs feel heavy and fall apart even more widely. I feel sleepy but want to stay with him until he is satisfied. As if in a dream, I feel my clit rubbed to warm delight. I am not sure anymore what he does for me and what I do for myself.

I do not know if he cums. I cannot imagine what that might entail! I know that I climax several times during that night. I awaken surprisingly calm the next morning. I know that I will never meet a real man who will satisfy me so completely. Somehow I know that I will never see him again, and this makes me surprisingly sad.