Alternate Ghosts

My sister's ghost.

A rather long story full of more sex than I usually write but sex is the driving force of my main character and her need to have everyone love her.

A brilliant woman dies, too soon, but she has already found access to other realities and instead of meekly surrendering to death she cheats him by stepping into a force that she uncovers and finds she has been given the tools to use to make her own realities.

As she searches for the perfect alternative she realises as many of her sexy dreams and needs as she can to maintain attachments to the ones she loves most.

Told from the point of view of her little brother whom she does not suspect has more to do with her journeys than he admits.

Enjoy.

"Please," she whispered softly. Her big blue eyes were full of hope and something else, I would have sworn it was heat but the woman kneeling in front of me was not capable of warmth. The reason: she was dead.

"I can't, Bel. Jesus I don't even know why we are having this conversation. I don't even understand how you are here!" I almost yelled at her. My voice was a harsh whisper. Two doors down from my room lay my mother. Even through the spaces between I could still here her moaning and weeping in her sleep. She was mourning the black haired, blue eyed woman kneeling naked in front of me.

Bel, Belinda was her first name, Castle was a twenty-three year old university student and lived at home with me, Russell, and her Mum, Gretchen. Five days ago Bel had been run off the road by a person unknown whom apparently didn't see the tall brightly dressed woman on her way home from another big day of study. She had fallen off the bridge and hit the almost dry rocky creek bed nearly ten metres below. She had no chance.

Police suspected that it may have been some drunken fuckwit on his way home from the nearby golf course that had taken the bridge that had been closed to traffic for months as a shortcut to avoid possible detection for driving under the influence. So far they had no leads, no witnesses nor any evidence of anything but an accident. They had even suggested that it may have been suicide until the medical examiner found evidence that she had been hit by a vehicle that had forced her over the edge of the old stone arch bridge.

It had been rough since then. The identifying of her sweet body in the cold morgue. The funeral planning. Her body lying in the white trimmed coffin looking so lifelike yet so cold to touch. I had stood by the casket and leaned down and kissed her lips gently. Bel had been my best friend as well as my sister. I was hoping to follow her footsteps, being three years younger, and now she was gone. I had cried as I bent to her still white face and patted her soft hair before I joined my mother outside.

Five years before it had been my father that we had gathered around his coffin. Taken from us when I most needed his wonderful companionship and support. Holding my sister's hand tightly as I quietly sobbed as her and my Mother led us out of the funeral director's viewing room. All of the lost feelings I had then came crashing back down on me but I had no strong sister to hold me tight and let me shed my tears of grief on her warm breasts. My father had been infected when a chemical spill from a ruptured tanker had soaked him when he and some of his friends had rushed down to see the accident when he was ten. Twenty-five years later the cancers that the chemicals caused took him.

Now Belinda was here and kneeling on the floor beside my bed. Her body was naked as she sat on her heels with her head lifted. Her breasts were heaving and her knees wide apart as she showed me her naked pussy. "Jerk off over me, Russell," she had begged. "Let me taste your sperm on my skin and in my mouth."

If she had come to me last week and asked I would have had my cock in my hands and splattering her face, her tits or anywhere else she wanted it. Hell I would have bent her over and licked her arsehole if she had asked. Others may have seen her as a glasses wearing, shy and very nerdy type girl but I knew what was under the façade of her long skirts and loose fitting jackets and tops. My sister was a full bodied and, in my eyes, very sexy woman. I was deeply in love with her and there was nothing, and I do mean, nothing I wouldn't have done for her.

However, now, it was different. I had touched her cold skin. Felt her lifeless lips against mine and there was no way I could think of her any other way despite the sexy and submissive pose she took with me now.

"I can't, Bel," I whispered once again and fell to my own knees right in front of her. I couldn't even lift my head to look at her.

"If you don't, Russ, I will live in your dreams. I will haunt your erotic thoughts and eventually you will understand that you should have done this for me." With that she disappeared.

The funeral, the cremation and then the putting up with the false sincerity, the sympathy and the supposed funny stories and memories of Belinda Castle. All of them simply made me sick and I could not get myself and my just as pissed off mother out of the place fast enough. We went home and shut the doors, disconnected our phones and shut down the internet. Isolation was our way of grieving.

A month later we emerged from our cocoon of silence. My mother gave me a list of the people that were no longer welcome in our home. I just stared at her in disbelief as I perused the list of names and found some very important names on it. "No, Russell, all of those people were false friends. Most of them simply wanted to use her brains for their own purposes. She and I spent a lot of time trying to work ways for her to have the least amount of contact with them that she could safely get away with. Now she is gone I do not have to see them at all!"

I nodded in understanding. My sister had been plagued with brilliance, I supposed you could call it, since she was twelve, actually quite a long time before that but my parents hadn't understood her scribbling on walls of mathematical symbols and strange drawings. There was always some professor, teacher, business person or get rich quick idiot chasing her for her assistance. It was why we were wealthy and able to concentrate on education and keeping the world at bay. Bel was a soft touch. She wrote programs, analysed data and provided strategic plans for half the so-called businesses in the city. She made machines that did some extraordinary things. I could not understand half of what she told me they did, probably would not have believed her even if I did. Once she had an online presence she was doing it for businesses all over the world. Some paid her handsomely, some took her ideas, her work and claimed it as their own. Those people I despised.

When she had died the police gave me a cheque for five million dollars that they found in her handbag. It was payment from a group of business people I had never heard of, but the cheque cleared and I could not help but wonder what Bel had done for them.

Belinda had a workshop. A converted warehouse complex she had purchased a few years before and fitted out with equipment, machines, computers and printers that she used to create her gadgets and wrote her programs for businesses. She had told me that if ever anything happened to her I was to go to her office and type BELINDA IS GONE into her main computer terminal. A disembodied voice had startled me in telling me that I had exactly thirty seconds to leave the building. I ran from the place suspecting that my sister had booby-trapped the building to hide her secrets.

No big explosion or even any sort of noises of bombs etc going off assailed my ears as I ran across the street. The lights did flicker on and off a few times and finally the front door of the building opened by itself. Curious I went to the door and peered in. Nothing remained in the building. No flickering monitors, no equipment, no printers, nothing. It was as if she never used the place. A message appeared on the blank wall opposite the doorway.

Look for me, Russell.

I shivered as if someone walked over my grave. I took off for my car and fled the place. I have not been back.

The dreams started about six months later.

First of all I have no girlfriend, no boyfriend either for those that might have wondered. I was a free spirit that had decided long ago that I was not interested in long term relationships that neither I nor some other was ready for. I was twenty and very much headed for a career in medicine. It was a long and arduous journey and I was not going to be one of those struggling interns that juggled work, home and a family. I was going to be an established surgeon before I looked for a life partner or partners.

The dreams started almost identically. A woman, one I had no idea what her name was or even why she was even in my dream, was sitting on a bus in the middle of the back row. I, for some reason, was also on the bus and sitting several rows up in the seats that face backwards over the wheels. In the middle of the busiest time of the day this woman would rise and begin undressing directly in front of me. "Jerk off on me, Russell," she said sexily as she knelt on the floor near my feet.

I would stand, unfasten and drop my trousers. My cock would appear. As hard, hot and big as I had ever seen it. A hand would start to jerk me off, heedless of the people watching keenly from all around us. The hand, I guessed it was my own, would be almost flying on my cock and I could feel my balls rising to expel my load. The woman would transform and my hot white cum, the biggest and heaviest load I had ever expelled, would hit my

mother's

face and into her open smiling mouth. I would wake up screaming "NO!"

The first time it happened my mother came rushing into my bedroom. She said she had been wandering around aimlessly because she couldn't sleep and had heard me call out in horror. I let her hold me for a few minutes before I told her to go off to bed that I was alright. There was no way I was going to tell her what had happened.

When it happened for six nights in a row I knew I had to talk to someone. My mother was the logical choice. She was a psychiatrist and if anyone could interpret dreams it would be her.

"Where do you shoot your sperm, Russell?" she asked softly when I had stammered and shyly told her of the dream I had for the last six nights.

"Over your face and in your mouth, Mum," I said shamefacedly.

"No," she giggled. "Is it on the bus or someplace else? Do you get off the bus at all or does it all happen on the bus?"

"I think it all happens on the bus. There are people all around. I think they are still sitting in their seats," I told her.

"Do any of them say anything?" she asked as she wrote something on her pad.

I shook my head and told her truthfully that all I was concentrating on was my cock and getting its load out. She giggled again and I waited for her to say something like typical male. Instead she told me if the dream came again that I should try to observe more and just let the rest take care of itself.

I nodded but it gave me no real insight into why I was having the dream. I rose to go and Mum said something that I didn't quite catch but I was sure it was something like, "I loved it on my face," in a somewhat nostalgic voice.

The dream began again, somewhere around midnight. I knew that because I had lain awake in bed for such a long time, almost too frightened to go to sleep. My mother might have thought that it was something to observe and learn from but for me it was mortifying. Not only was I jerking my cock in public but I was flooding my mother's face and the scary part was that it seemed she enjoyed it!

The woman was there again on the bus and I tried my hardest to simply watch rather than participate. My body in the dream moved of its own volition. I saw myself get up as the woman at the back of the bus stripped her clothing and came forward to kneel in front of me and asked me to jerk my cock off over her. A hand began to stroke my cock, I noted that it wasn't mine but I couldn't see who it was.

The people around were whispering and I only caught some of it. Most was directed at descriptions of my cock, my balls, how fast the hand was moving. Some were talking about the woman. Her nice tits. I found myself looking at them and they were nice. Rounded, firm and big nipples that became erect as she watched me with bright blue eyes as I found myself heading towards orgasm. I could feel my sperm rising, my arsehole clenching and then the roar in my ears as I could feel myself just about to release.

The transformation of the woman from a stranger, well at least not anyone I knew even though her face was familiar now, to my smiling mother was seamless. I noted that the rest of the body did not change just her face. My cock exploded and I swear I heard my sister say, "On your face and in your mouth, Mum, just like Daddy did!" Her voice was hot and lusty. The scene froze in my mind. My sister was the one jerking my cock, not me!

I did not scream out this time but I was breathing very heavily when I came awake. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. It was 2:16 am. I rolled over in my bed and stared directly into the eyes of my sister. I screamed my head off!

My mother must have been right outside my door. She was in and holding me in a flash. She kept my head held against her breasts. I clung to her like I was drowning and she was my lifesaving ring. I was not aware that my face was against bare flesh as she held my struggling body tightly. My mother is not a big woman but her strength at that minute was enough to keep my body from jumping from my bed and running out into the street. She began to soothe me with her voice and soft hands through my hair. I found myself calming and became even more so as a large and rubbery nipple was gently pressed against my lips. Automatically I opened my mouth and gratefully sucked on it. The tit was just like the woman on the bus! I don't remember anything else until I awoke late in the morning. My mother was gone and I shook my head trying to remember what else had happened. I could not recall anything once I had found her nipple inside my mouth.

I looked for my mother when I got out of bed and finished in the toilet. Instead I found a note. "Jessica called. I have a meeting at the funny farm. Love Mum."

I had no idea who Jessica was. I screwed the note up and threw it in the fireplace. A fire was still smouldering and it would not be a good idea for one of colleagues to find out she was calling the psychiatric home she consulted for a funny farm. It was about 2 degrees outside. I put a few more cut logs on the fire and found some porridge sitting still warm on the stove. Mum had obviously not long left.

After breakfast I took my coffee to my den. I spent the rest of the day studying and talking via zoom with a couple of professors. In between times I made a stew. A big thick stew that would warm the belly. It was something Bel taught me to cook and told me that even if it was the only thing I learnt to cook it would be more than enough for any woman that looked my way. I think I heard my mother come home sometime in the middle of the afternoon but she did not come looking for me. I got the feeling we might both have been a little worried about the events of last night and my suckling her breast like a frightened child. I was determined that I would not have her feeling ashamed about it. She was my Mum and if that was how she provided comfort to me when I had been so badly frightened then she should know that I was ok with it.

I found her in the hot house tending to her marijuana plants. Another thing that could have got her disbarred. She was smoking one of her products and I gave her what I hoped was a reprimanding stare. She laughed and blew smoke in my face. "How the hell do you think I stay calm while that horny little bitch teases us, Russ?" she said softly.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and I guess my eyes were like saucers. She placed her rolled cigarette end on to an ashtray that I knew Bel had made for her when she was in kindy and Mum smoked normal cigarettes.

"When did you first see her?" I asked as the woman turned around and held her arms around herself with her back to me.

"The night before we cremated her. She came to me and knelt in front of me whilst I was sitting at my dresser getting ready to go to bed. She asked me to let her lick my pussy," my mother croaked. She would not turn to look at me so I wrapped my arms around her from behind and cuddled her into my chest.

"I saw her the same day. She came to me and knelt naked in front of me and asked me to jerk off over her," I informed her quietly.

"Did you?" she asked without turning in my arms

I must have tensed because my mother sighed. "You didn't. Nor did I. Now she is haunting us. Why do you think she is doing this, Russ?" she asked softly. I could hear not just curiousity in her voice but a tinge of fear and something else I couldn't identify. Whatever it was made her body tremble in my arms.

"How is she haunting you, Mum?" I asked and this time I made her turn in my arms to face me.

"I am tied up, naked, in my bed. Arms and legs stretched out and a man wearing a balaclava over his head and face comes through the window. He sees me and immediately gets on the bed and begins to lick my pussy. I can't help but think that he is your father," she chuckled a little but there was not much mirth in it. "He used to do things like that to me. Tie me up naked and pretend to be a burglar or a mate of his coming around to drop something off. It was a fantasy thing for us. Anyway this man ate me until I can't help but cum. I cum hard and he doesn't stop. I am in so much need. He takes out his cock, it's big and beautiful and he slams it up my wet pussy. I writhe underneath him and beg him to fuck me harder. His mask slips off just as he tells me he is going to flood my cunt with his sperm!" she bit her lip as she looked into my face, "It's you. It's your hot cock and thrusting hips that fill me!"

I held her tightly as she wept softly into my chest. I just continued to stroke her hair and hold her as I murmured that it was alright.

After a while we broke apart. It was dark and the night air was beginning to turn frigid. I held her hand as I dragged her back into the warmth of the house. We ate together, the stew that I had started in the morning. She produced a bottle of red wine to compliment the meal and I had to admit that I enjoyed it. We chatted as if the spectre of my sister, her daughter, did not hang over our thoughts and dreams.

"You know, Russell," she began as she sipped her wine and then placed the almost full glass onto the polished coffee table in front of her. "I think she is trying to make us fuck each other!"

I chuckled. I could not help it. My Mum looked quite comical as she stared across the table at me. I counted the glasses of wine she had. My chuckling ceased. That was only her second glass and she had taken only one sip out of it. "How much did you smoke this afternoon, Mum?" I asked instead.

"Nothing to do with it, Russell. Look at the facts. I am naked on a bed getting my pussy eaten like I haven't felt since your father died. I am being fucked hard, deep and in such a way that I can't help but cum and cum! You are getting your cock jerked and spraying the hottest heaviest load ever. All over my face and in my mouth. Places, by the way, young man, I love to have cum sprayed if it is not up my arse or in my pussy. I will swallow if asked but I prefer watching it spray over me. I wonder if your sister picked these things because they are a fetish for us?" she was musing to herself as I simply stared at her incredulously. She could not be serious!