Caleb's Story

Although technically an incest story, much of it has a fantasy side about the feelings of a ghost. If you do not care for ghostly fantasies, you may wish to skip reading this. Otherwise, enjoy.

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Full house?

Well boy, you did a great job there. I thought for sure you couldn't beat my three of a kind, but lo and behold, you have a full house. I haven't lost in a night of poker in a long time. OK, you won, so I reckon I'll tell you what you wanted to know. You want to know how I, a man in his mid-twenties, can be such a good reenactor of what you call the Civil War. Heh, let me tell you boy, there was nothing civil about it.

You wonder why I call you "boy", even through you're several years older than me? Well, actually I'm far older. I celebrated my 167th birthday back in April.

No, I am not bullshitting you. I was born that long ago, in April of 1841. The reason I'm so good at reenacting is because I lived the life of a Confederate soldier. I see you scoff, but it's because I knew you wouldn't believe me that I haven't told you or anyone else about my origins. Well, besides my Melissa of course. If you trust me, nod your head. Ah good, you are nodding. Note that my story starts a little gloomy, but it has some bright spots, including two episodes of hot sex that allowed me to be where I am today. Ah, I figured after telling you about the hot sex your ears would perk up. Just promise you won't tell Melissa about me telling you; she'd kill me, and I'm not ready for my second death yet.

As I told you, I was born on April 12, 1841. I grew up in a small town in Ohio named Appleburg. It's always been a pretty town, with the apple blossoms in the spring, and the maple trees in the fall. Growing up, the prettiest girl in town was Melissa Apple, whose great grand-father founded the town and Gregory Apple, her father, essentially ran the town, being its mayor and sole banker. To emphasize that the family ran the town, Melissa's grandfather had apple trees planted all around the town, in a gross display of ego. No, the Melissa you know as my darling wife isn't 167 years old either, as it were.

Where was I? Oh yes, Melissa Apple, my original Melissa. Oh, she was a pretty girl. You have no idea how easy you boys have it now with the ways girls dress. Almost every "camp follower", from whose "activities" you would call a "ho", would be considered modestly dressed compared to modern females. No, I am not an old fuddy-duddy; I may have been born in the 19th century but I am still a male in his twenties, and I appreciate how the modern woman dresses. Anyways, Melissa Apple was the blossom in a family full of seeds rotten to the core. Sorry, I came up with that thought over a century ago, and you were the first person I could use it on. The sun had a way of glowing through Melissa's fiery hair, and her pale skin was almost the color of an apple blossom.

It was May of 1859. Melissa had come by my family's farm to acquire some money father owned Mister Apple. My folks were gone, so I was there to answer the door. She asked if I could possibly find the money, as her father promised to spank her hard if she dared come back home without the money. She hated doing her father's dirty work, but you did not dare question one's parents back then. Her father always kept her away from most of us boys, and she seemed to relish being on her own.

Anyways, she asked if she could have a tour of our farm while waiting for my parents to come back. Thinking nothing of it, I took her to show her our recent plantings, followed by the hen house and our new way to keep wolves from the chickens. But our next stop, the barn, was both my greatest mistake and greatest idea I ever had. Upon seeing our clean haystack, she told me she always fancied me. I told her I always fancied her too. The following minutes I will never forget no matter how many lifetimes.

"Caleb," she said, "I've never gotten to kiss a boy. Will you kiss me so I know what it is like? Father promised me to one of his business partners, but I hate him. I would rather you be my first."

No matter the year, whether 1859 or 2008, if the prettiest girl in town asks you to kiss her, if you are any kind of male you kiss her. I proceeded to kiss her, but she was not impressed.

"That's how you kiss your sister."

"Hey, the only girls I've ever kissed were my sisters, except for my mother."

"I think a boy should kiss a girl like this..."

With that, she once again went with a kiss, but placed her tongue partially in my mouth. I responded in kind. I had no idea about that kind of kissing before, although nowadays you call it a French kiss. I never wanted it to end, nor did she. Our kiss did not end until we both collapsed into the hay.

Yes, I know it's a cliché about young couples back in the day rolling in the hay, but there are reasons clichés start. All I could describe it was magical. We were two eighteen year olds in our first embrace of the other gender, and we could not get enough. I started to feel the blood rushing to my nether regions. For her part, she began to glow.

"Caleb, to hell with my father; I don't want my first time to be with someone I don't know." With that, she undid her dress, and her undergarments soon followed. Most girls in the day had more clothing; it soon occurred to me that she had planned this rebellion.

One look at her breasts made me forget all about her parents, my parents, or anyone else. It was the first time I saw a girl's breasts. Hers were a perfect cream color, with nipples pink as a peony. I began to caress her breasts, and returned to our tongue kiss.

"Kiss my nipples, Caleb, kiss my nipples."

I did not need to be told twice. My lips left hers, and began to kiss her nipples. She started to tingle, and I was inspired. Instinct took over and I began to suckle her tit.

"Aah, aah, ahh Caleb, you have no idea how good this feels. Please continue."

I became daring. My lips were sucking her right tit and my left hand was feeling her left breast, but my right hand was craving to have something to do. My right hand began to caress her belly, I was intrigued with all the hair between her legs; I had to know what she had down there. My fingers played with her fiery bush, as red as the hair of her head. I felt flaps of skin.

"Ooh, Caleb, what are you doing?"

I found something that seemed to stick out. I decided to roll it between my fingers

"AAH, AAH, CALEB, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I began to stop. "NO,KEEP DOING IT, KEEP DOING IT OH OH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH CALEB, I'M YOURS!!!"

I did not know it then, but I found her clit. I saw that I seemed to have something going down there, so I left her breasts, and started to tongue kiss her again.

"OH GOD OH GOD, NOTHING EVER FELT SO GOOD. AH AH, PLAY WITH IT, PLAY WITH IT."

I noticed she was emitting a flood of juice down there. Intrigued, my fingers left her clit and entered her hole. I could barely put a finger in there. Something possessed me and I inserted a second finger. She was going insane.

"OOH OOH CALEB, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" I felt something firm inside her, and rubbed it as hard as I could. "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD CALEB RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE I'M YOURS I'M YOUR AAAH!!!" I put my head down there, only to have a gush of her liquids squirt all over my face, temporarily blinding me. I knew it wasn't urine, but I didn't know what it was. Still, I knew one thing; I loved it. I took off my shirt, and use it to wipe off my face. My vision returned, only to see a beautiful sight. Melissa was shaking violently, and was placing her fingers where mine had just left. She seemed delirious.

"Ooh, Caleb, ooh. Aah...ahh... that was incredible. Now it's my turn." With that she tackled me, and proceeded to take off my pants. My manhood was already bursting from me, and it sprang into her face once she freed it from its restraints. She gave it a brief kiss, and then began pulling down on my penis with her right hand. Once my foreskin was pulled down as far it could go, she took a quick lick of the tip. I will never forget the lustful look she gave me.

"You are so handsome, Caleb. Place it in me." I've always been willing to take commands from a pretty girl. "No, I'LL place it in me." With that she moved to kiss me, and then position herself so her pretty folds were above my penis. She lowered herself atop of me. Her pretty girl hole felt so good. She lost her balance, and with it she shrieked. "OWW AAH, WHAT HAPPENED!!!" Being a boy of my time, I never knew there was something called a "cherry" that a girl had. She must have seen my concern. "NOOO, AAH AAH, I CAN HANDLE IT." She kept my penis in her. "Forget it; I'm OK." With that she went back to gyrating over my penis. "OH CALEB, IT FEELS SO GOOD. MAKE ME YOURS!!!" I remembered seeing my parents having sex, and decided that I should show my love of Melissa in the same manner. I took her in my arms and placed her on her back.

"I love you Melissa. I have loved you since we were nine." With that I reinserted my penis into her folds. Her gasps were so welcoming. "Let me show you how much I love you." My penis felt crushed amidst her beautiful nether regions. Looking back, it seems like it was forever and too brief a period of time.

"CALEB, OOH CALEB, TAKE ME TAKE ME AHH!!!" With that we both had our first orgasm. Being a farm boy who had seen animals mate, I knew a little more what was happening than she, but still I was almost as surprised as Melissa when I pulled out and saw white stuff beginning to flow out of her. We both looked at each other, taking a grasp of what was happening. We laid beside each other, and gave each other a final kiss. "That was wonderful, Caleb. I hope we can do that again sometime." With that, we heard my parents return. We agreed to a plan, and I quickly got dressed, and met my parents. Five minutes later Melissa showed herself as though she had just arrived on the farm, and was given the money owed to her father by mine.

I saw Melissa a few times after that in town, but we never got a chance to repeat our chance encounter. Three months later I was harshly awakened by shouting.

"WHERE'S YOUR BASTARD SON? WHERE'S CALEB?"

"HOW DARE YOU CALL MY SON A BASTARD? GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE APPLE!"

Oh oh, I thought. Did he find out that Melissa and I had made love?

"YOUR BASTARD SON DEFILED MY MELISSA! I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!"

"PUT THAT SHOTGUN DOWN! I'M SURE CALEB WOULD BE WILLING TO MARRY MELISSA!"

Damn right, I thought. Married to Melissa? It seemed to be an imminent shotgun wedding.

"LIKE HELL HE IS! SHE WAS PROMISED TO SOMEONE, AND NOW HE WON'T HAVE HER. NOW I AM OUT A LOT OF MONEY AND YOUR SON IS OUT OF LUCK. OUT OF MY WAY, OR I WILL KILL HIM AND CONFISCATE YOUR FARM!"

Oh no! Like many farmers my father was in debt, and was practically owned by Gregory Apple. If I was found by Apple, I would be dead regardless if my parents protected me or not. I was getting dressed during the shouting, and knew I could not let my parents pay for my sins. I jumped out the window, using the oak tree beside the house to climb down, and ran for my life. I heard a shotgun blast in the distance. I knew I could not go to Appleburg; Apple owned the town. I rushed to the town of Aberdeen, where I had made friends with a ferry operator named Michael. I told Michael what happened as he ferried me across the Ohio River to Maysville. Promising me that he would keep tabs on what happened, I left my last old friend I would ever see. As I continued through Kentucky, my sole thought was how I may never again see my beloved Melissa. By October of 1859 I had arrived at Columbus, Kentucky, where I would reside for the rest of my all too short life. I thought about being with a prostitute, but I always felt like I would be unfaithful to Melissa, so I didn't.

Of course, most every American knows what a turbulent time that was. By that time the Northern states thought they should rule what the rest of country could and could not do, and the Southern states disagreed, wanting each to decide for themselves. Northerners obfuscated the issue by bringing up slavery, but they were largely hypocritical; they were just as racist as any Southern white. Some northern states even made it a crime for a black to live in the state. In November of 1861 "Old Goat Face" somehow got elected President of the United States, despite only two in every five voters choosing him. Where I was residing the sympathies were definitely for the Southern states. All into that winter and spring of 1861, my new friends in Columbus were getting ready to fight for the Confederacy. I hoped I could hold out, and not take either side. But after Union forces took control of Paducah, and we heard of harsh Union treatment of certain citizens there, I decided to enlist under Confederate General Polk. I felt honor-bounded to help my new friends.

Shortly after enlisting, I was sent to nearby Camp Beauregard. That one act sealed my fate. The camp was a death pit. There was a lack of food available for us, and many of us died there until the camp was abandoned. Most of the deaths were from typhoid fever or pneumonia; it was the latter that killed me. I saw little combat and died so poorly, never truly tasting the war. My last words in my first life were "I love you, Melissa."

I became a ghost, one of many fallen Confederate soldiers. To this day many consider the campsite haunted; I've been meaning to go there and see if I can find any of my old friends. Any place where over a thousand men die long before their time, you are going to have ghostly activity. For the next six years, I enjoyed the company of several of my friends that also felt death's embrace.

My peaceful existence as a ghost ended in June of 1868. Mister Apple finally found out my fate. It was not enough that I was dead; he needed to show that no one could deny him vengeance. He had my body exhumed, and buried in the town cemetery he owned. He placed me under an apple tree at the top of one of the hills in the town cemetery, far away from my family's own plot. My grave was to be a symbol that he controlled everyone in town. I was still a ghost, but was now bereft of friends. Because I had died a Confederate, and because they feared Mister Apple, my old friends in Appleburg never came to visit me. Every couple of days Mister Apple visited my grave and spat upon it. After three years there, I learned that as a ghost I possessed several powers. One day my mother visited me at the grave when Mister Apple arrived there. He went to verbally abuse my mother and I tried to find some way to protect my mother. Somehow I willed that apple tree he had me buried under as a symbol of his power to fall, missing my mother but crushing him. His ghost appeared before me, and then realized the error he made... his need to control me led to his untimely death. He lost his will to exist, and evaporated in ghostly flame, a flame visible only to fellow ghosts.

The next few years were eventful. My mother, now a widow, had a better gravestone placed to mark my final burial spot. I wondered how she paid for it until I saw my friend Michael bring Melissa to visit my grave. Somehow they ended up being married. They planted an oak sapling where the apple tree once stood; I found out it was a sapling from the same tree I used when making my escape so many years later. I saw a young boy around 12 or 13 with them, and saw by his features that he had to be my child. I was happy that Melissa found someone even though she would not be a virgin bride, but I regretted that I could not tell Melissa that I did not mean to abandon her and still loved her passionately. For the next 130 years I pined away for her, my lost love.

For over a century I stood vigil by that lonely oak tree. The town of Appleburg faltered once it was clear the railroad would never reach there, and only Mister Apple's force of will allowed the town to last as long as it did. The cemetery saw fewer and fewer new burials. Occasionally, this meant a new ghost. I talked to a few veterans of wars fought in Cuba and Europe, and it was always interesting to compare notes during the brief time they shared my etherworld. A few times an atheist's ghost would show up, looking absolutely shocked at his predicament. Like Mister Apple their ethereal existence would be short, and end in ghostly flames, having too little faith to remain long as a ghost. The few agnostics would just roam around not knowing where to go, and usually wondered off. Most ghosts left their ethereal existence in a soft light. In all of this, I wondered when my time to end my etherness would arrive. My only company was the occasional cardinal or bluebird who'd make their nest in my oak tree; I always guarded their eggs from cats or other predators, feeling that I should award my feathered friends for giving me some company.

A few years ago, I was sitting in front of my grave. By this time the cemetery was practically forgotten, and a new burial hadn't occurred for decades. I was the last ghost around, and seemed destined to eternal frustration. A pretty girl parked her car beside my grave, which was still a fair piece away from the other graves. My lord, she looked like Melissa; my beloved Melissa. I noticed she had brought soap and water with her.

"I finally found you grandpappy."

Grandpappy? Why would she call me grandpappy?

Yes, she did call me grandpappy. I know, I know; who the hell uses the term "grandpappy" in the 21st century. I used some ghostly power at the time to discover she was my great great great granddaughter. I reckon calling me "grandpappy" flies off the tongue easier than calling me "great great great grandfather". Yes, I thought you'd agree. Now, if you want to hear about the second sex act, quit interrupting.

"I'm Melissa. What a nice tree you have." Somehow the name Melissa travelled down the generations, and now a girl who could pass for my Melissa was right in front of me. She began cleaning my headstone, not realizing that her hands were passing through me. Somehow I could feel a tingle, as if by cleaning my headstone she was cleaning me. She was wearing a checkered halter top, and my eyes were practically resting on her beautiful breasts. I may have been a stiff, but right now the only stiff thing about me was my penis. I realized that this would likely be the best day of the rest of my existence. She may have been kin, but I could not resist a sudden urge I had. Using my ghostly telekinesis I undid her halter, and her breasts flew free. She was not wearing a bra.

"Ooh, how did that happen? Oh well, I'll fix it later." With that, my new Melissa continued her new attentions. It was hard to concentrate seeing her nipples, and I went to position myself as through I could actually suckle her. I managed a small cool breeze to blow on her nipples, causing them to perk up. "Ooh, that tickles," she said. "Is that you doing it grandpappy? Still a horny young man I guess." She smiled in my direction. "Even though you were long dead when I was born, I love you."

She loved me? No one said they loved me since my mother visited my grave, and before that my original Melissa the day of our intercourse. For the first time since I caught the pneumonia that killed me, I started to feel warm.

"OH MY GOD, what's happening? Is that you, Grandpappy?"

I looked at my arms. It was beginning to lose its grey, save for my uniform. I was returning from the ethereal realm to the real world.

"Melissa, you have come back to me?"

"No grandpappy, I'm not your Melissa. I'm your great great great granddaughter, who happens to be named Melissa as well."

"No, you ARE my Melissa now." I reached for her lips with mine, and kissed her. "And call me Caleb; grandpappy makes me feel old." I looked again at my hands; they were now a healthy pink, like when I was first born. I went for the same tongue kiss I enjoyed with my first Melissa.