Cynthia's Many Lovers - Wild


She also knew that she wanted something bigger and more satisfying to fill her void, and to tingle even deeper into her inflamed insides. Determinedly, Cynthia turned her body around in a quick reversal, and without hesitation she mounted the firm shaft.

Her body shivered as if from a mild electric shock, and her entire lower half exploded in goose bumps, as she took in the entire length, and even her vulva shuddered from its contact with phantom pubic hairs and flesh. She'd managed to brave past these incredible sensations, until her father's cold hands gripped and manhandled her bouncing breasts, resulting in an entirely new and more erotic level of spasms.

Like a magnificent waterfall, she came, and she rocked to and fro in a vain attempt to make the sensation last forever. Finally, when it was clear that the best had passed them both by, Cynthia slumped forward and nuzzled against her father's ghostly chest.

Later, she sought to kiss him, finding him not shy about this at all, and they pressed their lips to one another's meaningfully and passionately. Unlike some of Cynthia's previous lovers, who reached a certain point and halted their cuddling, the ghost never once turned away, or even attempted to evade her lips. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her, and this unvoiced declaration was mutually understood. And they kissed, deep into the hours of the morning, when the cover of night started to lighten, and as if both were determined to sap away the energies of the other, with ghostly hands either wrapped around Cynthia's waist, or otherwise resting casually on her rear. In the end, neither admitted defeat, and a general truce declared.

Luckily, Cynthia wasn't scheduled for work that morning, and the middle of the day found her sitting on the living room couch, and flipping through the pages of a lingerie catalog. The young woman was clad only in a tight white tee shirt, which wrapped nicely around the pleasing bumps of her breasts, and around her lower half she wore a pair of soft lavender panties.

"Dad, what do you think about these undies?" She held the catalog out, in a couple of different angles, since she had no idea where her father was standing at that moment. "They're cheeky!" She giggled.

In response, she felt her father's ghost come closer to peruse the picture of the model in question.

"I don't think I'm as pretty as this model is." Cynthia lamented. "And I know I'll never be as thin as her." She suddenly felt the urge to be playful. "Do you really think I'm pretty, daddy? Or do you just like touching my butt?"

The ghost leaned over and planted a small kiss on Cynthia's forehead, and they both remembered a time when she was younger, and when the man had kissed his daughter's forehead in the exact same way and caller her 'my little angel'.

Cynthia loved her father, but the abrupt sensation broiling up inside her had nothing to do with sentimental love. She wanted him in a very physical way, at that very moment, and as badly as she'd ever wanted him before. In order to make her objective perfectly clear, she tossed the catalog aside, and lifted her shirt up to reveal her superb breasts.

"I dare you to touch them." She challenged.

The ghost was taken aback by his daughter's blatant exposure, until he noticed how aroused and enticing her nipples were. He sank to his knees, drawn to rounded little hills like a magnet, and eagerly placed his hands directly on their centers. The ghost massaged the wonderful pair of breasts, until he too became infected with their special degree of lust, and as he knew that Cynthia had pushed their boundaries to a higher level the previous night, he also wanted to impress upon her that he could kick up the ante as well.

For the first time, the ghost dared to put his mouth on those two magnificent swells, resulting in a sensual moaning and squirming from Cynthia that he hadn't thought he could ever bring about. He mouthed her sweet flesh for a few minutes, until he noticed her beginning to relax, and it was at that point that the ghost made its next move. His ghostly hand reached under one of Cynthia's upraised thighs, pushed past the growing steam of her panties, and invaded her carnal inner sanctum with two deliberate fingers. She was already sexually aroused, the ghost discovered, to the point that his fingers were instantly smothered by her sultry and sticky moisture, yet he still managed to bring her body to another abrupt and erotic eruption.

Abandoning the breasts, the ghost maneuvered Cynthia's legs toward him, exposing her wet sex to his gaze, and he wasted no time in pulling away her panties. He even directed Cynthia's arms under her knees, elevating her feet high into the air as he began to savor her insides a second time.

This didn't last too long, however, as both parties knew the end game well by then. The ghost stood up, using his body to press Cynthia's raised knees up against her head, and glided his firm sex into her lubricated tunnel. Most of their previous encounters had been timid and hesitant in nature, save for that one time in the back yard, but this pairing would be leaving no doubt that it was purely physical and animalistic, as the ghost pummeled into his daughter with a reckless ardor he hadn't exhibited any time before.

If the encounter had been flesh against flesh, there was no doubt that the clamor of slapping skin would have been bouncing back and forth against the living room walls, but as it was, the only sounds heard were those of Cynthia's sexual shrieks and the creaks of their actions from the complaining couch.

If a ghost could experience an orgasm, it was having one now, as the sensually intoxicated father brought himself up to an early and explosive peak. As he climaxed, he released a sexual cry strong enough to pierce through the veil of the afterlife, for Cynthia heard it from the other side, and once she realized what it was, she too gasped out loud and trembled from the overwhelming rush of her own climax.

When it was all done with, the ghost stood to one side, feeling almost apologetic for having taken his daughter so roughly, and in truth, Cynthia had never expected to be tussled about in such a way. She'd always remembered her father being so mild and introspective, and never as powerful and brutal.

"I heard your voice this time." She admitted, before she retired to her room to dwell over the incident.

Later that evening, Cynthia presented herself to the living room in a splendid and very revealing white bikini. The features of her breasts were clearly defined by the nearly transparent fabric. "I got this at work the other day." She stated, as she showed off the skimpy swimwear. "I think I'll go outside and take a swim in the pool. You can come and join me if you like."

The ghost still felt guilty over what had happened earlier, over what should never have passed between a man and his grown daughter.

If there were any doubts about Cynthia having forgiven him, however, they were all erased a second later, when she pulled her bikini bottom down and flashed her large butt at him. "I'll be waiting for you."

Eventually, the ghost meandered his way out, and under the growing shade of the approaching night, he took a seat on the edge of the pool. At first, he was nervous about placing his legs in the water, and did so only after some trepidation, but when nothing unusual happened, the ghost felt comfortable enough to slip his legs in up to the calves.

"You came out." Cynthia waded over, once she finished swimming a few laps. "I can tell you're near, but I don't knew exactly where. Let me see if I can find you." She walked along the edge of the pool, stretching one hand out, until she bumped into the side of her father's leg. "There you are. Let's see if I can find something else."

Cynthia's hand slipped between the ghost's legs, and her fingers found and enclosed around the limp noodle of her father's cock. The ghost was caught by surprise, as it wasn't expecting the young woman to be so receptive so quickly after their last tryst, but her warm and manipulative fingers soon brought him up to attention.

And the fingers were quickly replaced by Cynthia's mouth.

The ghost watched in astonishment, for he'd never once believed his daughter capable of such a wanton act, and especially not when the neighbors' houses were crowded so close on either side. The only thing that prevented him from putting a stop to it was that the sky had already darkened, and... He had to admit that he was enjoying what was being done to him. He forced himself to stop being such a worry-wart, even though it had always been his nature, and he even closed his eyes as he leaned back on his elbows back on the pool's surrounding walkway.

A few minutes later, Cynthia pulled away, and dipped into the water for a second, and when her father saw her next, she was smiling and holding her bikini bottom in her hand. She dropped the wet item on the edge of the pool next to him, and taking the hint, the ghost lowered himself into the water with her.

Cynthia steadied herself along the edge with her arms, while the ghost pinned her back against the pool wall, and once again, he took her. Not roughly or violently, but gently and caringly, and even though the ghost had returned to its usual gentlemanly demeanor, Cynthia still had a very difficult time in keeping her mouth from opening wide and crying out to the world that she was being pleasured by a phantom.

And so it went, over the course of the next month or two, with Cynthia daringly wearing the most provocative lingerie she could find, and sometimes wearing nothing at all, and her father playfully coming to her side and bonding with her both emotionally and physically. They had no set time for their amorous interactions, as they both preferred to be spontaneous and unpredictable, but there were a few moments when one or the other had to be convinced to participate.

One such time occurred when Cynthia had woken up late, and fumbled about through the house while getting ready for work. She hastily made her way into the garage, where she discovered that her car was nearly empty on gas, and since she didn't want to waste any more time by driving to the gas station, she instead ran back inside and grabbed the keys to her father's car. This second car, it might be mentioned, always had near a full tank on it, and Cynthia only drove it occasionally to keep it maintained.

While Cynthia transferred her purse, lunch bag, and sweater into her dad's car, she felt the ghost hovering nearby.

"Sorry, dad." She announced. "I've got to take your car today, because mine is low on gas. Try not to have a cow about it."

She felt his hand playfully pat her bottom.

"What?" She asked. "I don't have time to figure out what you want. I have to get going." Suddenly, there were two ghostly hands resting on her rear end, and Cynthia chuckled. "Oh, you want me to pay for using your car? And the payment is going to be my butt?"

In reply, one hand smacked her rear.

"I'm already late, so I don't think so. You're going to have to wait until I come home later."

Since Cynthia had chosen to wear a denim skirt that morning, it was a small matter for the ghost to lift it, and a second later, to lower the pink panties she was wearing underneath.

"I can't believe you're doing this." Cynthia stated, although she made no move to escape her fate. To the contrary, she even leaned forward and set her hands on the driver's seat, and left her rear end fully vulnerable to the assault. "I am going to be so late."

The ghost pressed up against her, and crossed the threshold, so to speak. Cynthia soon found her blouse pushed up near her neck, and her bra wrenched aside to allow her breasts to bounce about, and her panties twisted around near her ankles, but like a playful kitten, she heartily submitted to the endeavor.

She was panting hot breaths and crying out for more a few minutes later. "Make me late, daddy! Make me late! Oh, daddy, daddy!" And then her customary grunts took over her throat, basking everything in the garage with her exuding lust and drenching the garage like a volcanic downpour of heat.

And this time, if somebody was listening intently, they might have heard the tiny and distinct sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, until they were eclipsed by Cynthia's climactic growls, and a very manly sounding series of grunts.

And yes, Cynthia was very late that morning, but luckily for her, her reprimand was much milder than other, more unreliable employees would have gotten.

This might have gone on forever, with both sides willing to attempt new and different placements and strategies in their carnal meetings, in their attempt to find out just how real a ghost could become, except that yet another insistent young man stepped into Cynthia's life. And whereas her previous love interests had failed, and failed miserably at that, this one markedly succeeded. His name was Anthony, and he was a well-disciplined man, with a cool demeanor, lofty ambitions and the sensibilities of a mother hen. In short, he was very much like Cynthia's father.

The young woman developed a sudden infatuation with Anthony, despite her amorous affection for her father, and she so dearly hoped for her father's approval when she finally mustered up enough courage to invite him over. Anthony was a perfect gentleman, and neither did he make any disparaging remarks when Cynthia suggested that her house might be haunted, nor did he make any unwanted sexual advances toward her, although the lovelorn Cynthia very much regretted this later.

Anthony even stated that the house had a nice, homey feel to it, and much to the ghost's pleasure, complimented her father's taste for some of the additions and improvements he'd previously made to the place.

The ghost deemed the young man a worthy suitor for his beloved daughter, and in so many actions passed his sentiments along to Cynthia, who was overjoyed that finally, after so many years of searching, she'd found the right man, or at least, the right man on her side of the dividing line between the living and the non-living.

They were married two years later, and there was an unseen guest present at their joyous wedding, watching the proceedings with all the merriment that a ghost can exude, and afterwards, this grinning specter finally came to the realization that his beloved daughter would be in good hands, and that he no longer needed to watch over her. As his way of saying good-bye to Cynthia, the ghost walked up behind the newlyweds. They were smiling and holding hands as their picture was being taken, and the ghost patted his invisible hand down on their joined ones.

Anthony shuddered, and wondered where the sudden breeze had come from, but Cynthia knew better. She smiled even more widely, as the final shots were being snapped, and afterward, she turned back to where she sensed her father's spirit still stood, and whispered the words; "Good-bye, daddy."

The ghost of Cynthia's father was never heard of again.

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