The Nameless Thing

"There are actually a few different ghosts here at the lodge. Though I've never personally seen anything, and I've been here for five years now. Ever since we started bringing this place back to life." The short, somewhat chubby blonde woman moved on, directing her last tour of the evening through the rest of the historic hunting lodge. The visitors' crestfallen expressions didn't go unnoticed, but she despised the Halloween tour groups. People after something they weren't ready to be a part of. Not yet, anyway.

She hadn't lied, not exactly.

Seen

being the operative word, the key difference. There was only one actual apparition at the lodge. At least, only one that had made themselves known to her. And she'd

felt

him plenty. Well, he'd felt

her

plenty.

Halloween seemed to be when he was most active, most able to manifest himself. That's when his touch went from an out-of-place breeze to a firm assertion. 'Him' wasn't as much of an assumption as one might think. She had initially assumed 'him,' given how he'd always touched her. Always cupping her curvy ass, an errant hand through her long curls, occasionally a wayward finger or two slipping into her well, filled-out blouse and tweaking an excited nipple. But she'd really taken to thinking of him as

him

after his amusements on her first Halloween. He'd rattled the fire poker in the drawing room where she often enjoyed the isolated ambiance while catching up on some research reading. He made just enough fuss to get her to stand and contemplate leaving before dropping the iron rod rather loudly. After placing it back in its stand, she returned to her seat, only to sit

on him!

Him and a rather noticeable protrusion.

Quitting wasn't an option. Restoring this place had been a passion project of hers. And the sizable grant she'd acquired to facilitate its revitalization needed someone dedicated at the helm. After that first year, and that obnoxious incident, she settled in and had become accustomed to the majority of his light touches and mischiefs. It was never anything too untoward. Except on Halloween. This nameless thing never bothered anyone else. After investigating, asking around, and finding no sources, no archives, let alone anyone alive that had any idea about him or his antics, she'd felt foolish. Or that she might be going mad.

Until last Halloween, when she felt a fully solid figure embracing her completely as she was closing up. She'd screamed before she knew what was happening, and it had backed off immediately. That was the last time it had bothered her. Though she did wonder whenever she felt a slight breeze brush by her cheek.

Chiding herself for almost missing the contact, she finished up the last tour of this Halloween evening. The visitors were allowed to wander for a time, and she smiled to herself listening to their hushed comments about feeling as though something was watching them.

She'd spent far too much time digging through every possible source of information, desperate to find out more about her nameless ghost. The purported others had histories, habits, names. But this apparition seemed to be a different entity altogether, her very own personal poltergeist, and she'd officially nicknamed him The Nameless Thing. For her, everything needed a name. Her car? Susan. Her bag? Reva. But this...

he

was different. And so she wouldn't give her Halloween haunt one herself.

As the last visitor left, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation. She'd been seeing this man for a few weeks now and was starting to really get invested in how he made her feel. Until she saw the text.

Something came up. Have to cancel.

That was it. That was all he said. At first she had a million questions. And then she had none. This was the second time he'd done this. Shame on her for getting her hopes up. Again. Her run of bad luck had gone on for too long, and she was done. Done with everything. She couldn't even bring herself to shed any tears.

Instead she slumped down on the ancient sofa in the drawing room. Her usual place for solace, studying, occasionally for some self-love after particularly trying days (of which she'd had many in this past year). The room's main draw being the extravagant fireplace that they no longer utilized. Liabilities and whatnot.

Fucking insurance twats

, she thought to herself. Staring at the wooden logs that only served as impotent décor, she wished for a raging fire. Just once. Anything to warm her cold, dead heart.

She was distracted as an invisible hand brushed her cheek.

She didn't scream. Her body didn't even tense out of surprise or shock. Instead she grabbed for whatever must have touched her, just as the sensation moved away from her. Her hands went through nothing. Though for just a moment, she'd imagined she had a hold of... something.

Shaking her head at herself and her folly, she stood to leave. As she moved towards the door, the ancient fireplace erupted in a flash before settling into a toasty, roaring fire. She'd squeaked out of surprise at the fiery emission, jumping and falling back down on the sofa.

The wave of heat was a welcome sensation in the drafty building. But she found the invisible hand interlacing its fingers into hers oddly even more comforting. She grasped the hand holding hers, and this time she really did feel it. He wasn't going anywhere and with her other hand she began exploring.

First up his arm, then across his chest, and up to his face.

"You're... you're real!" she whispered excitedly, not quite sure how to feel. He nodded his head as he cupped her hand to his face.

"Can you... can you talk?" He hesitantly shook his head 'no' this time. 'Talk' was likely the issue at hand. She had no idea what rules phantoms played by, or didn't. "Fuck me...," she mumbled to herself as she stared at the blatantly visible indent in the cushion beside her.

She didn't need to say it twice. Grabbing the nape of her neck, her lips parted reactively, only to be met with a surprisingly warm tongue as it pressed its way inside. The thought to stop whatever forbidden act was taking place flitted away quickly enough from her as his other hand slipped up her skirt.

Awkwardly she placed her hands upon him as she relaxed into the kiss. She couldn't hear him, but she could feel his body vibrate with every groan of need. He promptly pulled her onto his lap, eliciting another little squeak. This time she swore she could hear a little chuckle coming from him. His hands moved to her ample ass underneath the skirt as he pulled her against his hardness. She quickly pulled off her cardigan as his lips traveled over her collar bone.

Reaching a hand down, curiosity killing her, she grasped his throbbing cock and slowly, sensually stroked his length. His body went rigid underneath her, taking her breath away. She wasn't sure if this was right or wrong, but she no longer cared. This Nameless Thing wanted her, and for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted it far more than she should.

Suddenly she let go of his cock and stood up. Swiftly pulling her blouse off, she felt her skirt's zipper coming undone and hurriedly unfastened her bra. She felt herself being lowered in front of the fireplace atop the faux bear skin rug. Waiting with bated breath for his cock to fill her soft pussy. Instead, she felt that hot tongue licking her inner thigh. When he gave her a little bite, her whole body quivered.

It was too much for him, and his teasing came to an end as his tongue found its reason for being. Repeatedly tracing her aroused lips, dipping into her already dripping pussy, until he put just enough suction over her clit to make her hips buck. He held her firmly as his tongue explored her most sensitive part. For a moment a wave of panic overtook her. And then she came harder than she ever had in her entire life. A whole body orgasm that wouldn't stop until he did.

By the time that happened, she was out of breath, flush everywhere, and falling madly in love. She covered her face from embarrassment when she felt his hands wandering about her. He removed them from hiding herself gently, kissing her deeply as his fingers once again interlocked with hers.

Holding her hands as she tasted herself with his passionate kiss, he entered her. Steadily, slowly, her still pulsating pussy stretched to take every bit of his aching cock. Between her moments of pure ecstasy she wondered how long it had been for him. A brusque voice whispered in her ear, "Ages, my angel."

Her fingernails dug into him at the sound of his bewitching voice. She'd always been especially auditory, but hearing him for the first time sent tingles throughout her entire being. She'd never be able to get enough of that voice, no matter how much time they had together. She could only hope he'd grace her with it as often as he could. Finding his face with her hands, she pulled him to her and kissed him as though she'd never again get the chance.

At that, his steady strokes violently became harder, faster, more urgent. She could feel another orgasm coming on as she felt his cock impossibly expand inside of her. He began to let out torrents of groans and moans, the sounds of which sent her over the edge as they came together. With some difficulty she could somewhat make out his visage as he came and let his entire being go. She herself was still in the throes of another powerful orgasm and focusing wasn't entirely an option. Between these taxing glances she felt herself being filled as rope after rope of his cum painted her walls.

They lay together for a time afterwards. Her panting, him silently placing kisses everywhere he could. She'd swear she could feel actual, physical cum dripping out of her. It wasn't exactly something she was worrying about in that moment. Simply... noticing. She noticed she could see him more clearly still. Noticed him getting up off of her. Noticed him stepping into the fire.

She could see him now as he stood in the flames of that raging energy. At least, she could see him

better

now. Clearly. Tall and rugged, but she'd known that. She'd

felt

that. The mischievously handsome bit was a surprise. She only saw him for a moment before he walked through the heart of that blaze. Staring at it, at where he'd been, she couldn't help her heart dropping.

He was gone.

And then right away he was back. His hand extended, hoping against hope that she'd take it.

And join him.

* * *

The La Faye Hunting Lodge never saw another Halloween. The official report lists vandals as the generic culprits for starting the fire that consumed the entirety of the place. The woman who'd brought it all back to life had apparently been inside at the time of the inferno.

Tragic

, they all thought. All, but her.

They never did find any trace of her.