A Night at the Coaching Inn

Author's note: More erotic than horror, and more of a stroke piece than an involved tale. Still, I hope readers enjoy it. All feedback welcome.

Excerpt from a diary

22nd March, 19--

It has taken some time for me to get around to writing this entry. Ever since the events of the night of 18th March, my mind has been in a whirl. But finally I feel able to put pen to paper and describe them, incredible as they still are to me.

Let me start with the mundane. I had arrived late in the evening in the small Worcestershire town where I was to visit a new client in pursuit of a hefty contract. The streets were cold, frosty and empty -- the winter is lingering this year -- and so I buttoned my coat up high as I hastened my stride from the railway station.

Fortunately, it was not a long walk to my destination, a former coaching inn converted into a hotel. And even more fortunately, as I entered the inn I was greeted by a roaring fire and an offer of a late supper. Both were equally welcome and I sat for some time after my meal with a small brandy, gazing into the flames and listening to the logs crackle and spit.

My journey had been tiring and I needed sleep, so I collected my key from the hotel's reception desk and set off to find my room. I quickly discovered that this former inn was a historical treasure, rich with dark-wood panelling and preserving the twisted narrow staircases of yesteryear. My room was high up under the eaves, and small but perfectly comfortable. Most importantly, it was warm.

I got into bed around 11 o'clock, determined to get a good night's rest before the next day's business. I thought initially of reading a little, but found that the brandy was leading my eyes to close of their own accord. Peacefully, I dropped off to sleep, the book slipping from my fingers.

I do not know precisely when I awoke. The inn was silent; the night sky still dark without even a hint of the dawn to come.

But the room was not as dark as it should have been. My eyes attempted to focus; there was a glow, a miasma in the air beside my bed.

I lay perfectly still; I still cannot put words around what I was feeling or thinking at that moment. Fear? Wonder? Was I petrified or unwilling to move and risk disrupting whatever it was that was happening? I think it was some mix of all of these, but there is no word equal to how this glow held me in thrall.

The motes of light hanging in the air began to move, to swirl and twist, growing steadily brighter and starting, here and there, to coalesce into shapes.

I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. I blinked; it did nothing to dispel the careening, dizzying lights.

Slowly more and more of the specks of light joined together, forming lines and curves. They moved hypnotically, sinuously, and in some way they calmed me, reassured me.

The form created by the lights in front of me was becoming clearer, more defined -- and what a form it was! Standing by my bed, limned in golden light, was a wonderfully beautiful and stunningly curvy woman. Her hair was long and curly, descending past her shoulders; her breasts were full and large and her hips wide.

I have always been open-minded about the paranormal and fond of ghost stories. I've heard too many believable tales of bumps in the night and unexplainable phenomena. But what was happening in my room seemed too strange to be true -- it must be a hallucination, perhaps a result of food poisoning, or some incipient fever. I opened my mouth to speak, to break the spell that seemed to have me in its grasp.

She smiled at me and raised a finger to her lips.

"Good evening fine sir." I still don't believe she uttered the words out loud, but somehow I heard them. Even for this part of the country her accent was strong, but her voice was lilting and I could hear the smile in it.

"Don't be afraid, rest easy. I know you are confused, and I will explain everything. Yes, I am a ghost. But a happy ghost. And I give happiness too."

I became aware that my paralysis in the face of this extraordinary development was lifting. My breathing became steadier, her voice calming me... and in combination with her appearance, having another effect: my cock was stiffening under the covers.

"Please, good sir, may I join you?"

I hesitantly managed to wriggle across the bed, lifting one edge of the blanket for her. I expected to feel the cold that I had felt earlier in the streets -- isn't the temperature supposed to drop in haunted places? -- but no, no, she was somehow warm and solid even though nothing visibly physical had replaced the lights that traced out her curves. I could feel her pressed up against my side, and my cock hardened further.

Questions raced through my mind, and equally quickly answers followed. Were we somehow communicating purely via thought? It seemed impossible, yet the knowledge was suddenly within my brain. My glowing companion's name was Marion. She had lived here in the coaching inn when it was first built, centuries before. She had worked hard but had a good life, filled with love and laughter. She hadn't been old when she died, but in those times that was not unusual. There was no tale of tragedy here, just of a life lived quickly but to the full.

By now we were embracing, my fingers exploring her curves, her fingers sending tingles through me. I hardly dared believe what I was feeling. Her skin was smooth and perfect as she wrapped her arms around me. We kissed, gently at first, then with rising passion, and I could feel her tongue in my mouth -- somehow warm and alive. She broke the kiss to giggle as her fingers grazed my cock, by now achingly hard, and her eyes filled both with pleasure and lust as she gazed at me.

"Oh sir, how hard you are for me!" Marion shifted, her head disappearing under the covers and, moments later, I felt her lips on the tip of my cock, the heat of her mouth. With amazing speed I felt her slide down the length of my cock, felt her throat's grip on the head of it. One of her hands was cupping my balls and I was in ecstasy, the sensation unlike anything I have ever felt before. The blanket began to rise and fall as her head bobbed.

And then I heard Marion's laughter in my head again. "Yes sir, this will be unlike anything you've felt before. I can do things no one else can... like speak to you even with my mouth full of your delicious cock." As the words formed, I felt her throat moving around me and I could barely hold back.

"Don't fight it, my good sir. Give me your cum. Give it all to me. I want it."

The combination of a spectacular blowjob and her encouraging voice was too much. I felt my balls tighten and my cock harden to steel; the cum erupted out of me in a wave that left me trembling. Spurt after spurt of spunk shot from my cock and into her wet and hungry mouth.

She emerged from under the covers, her eyes bright, licking her lips. She kissed me deeply and saltily, and smothered me in an embrace. "Oh sir, I was so hungry for that. Thank you."

I don't know how, but I was still rock-hard. And my orgasm seemed only to have made Marion more real, even though she was still a glowing phantasm to my eyes.

A thought flashed through my head, and she took it without a moment's hesitation, moving up the bed and kneeling above my head. The scent as she lowered herself to my waiting mouth was divine and overpowering. And then her cunt was grinding against my face, and her heat was incredible. I pushed my tongue eagerly between her lips -- her cunt hair tickling my nose -- and tasted her. My God! I will never find such glory again. Her juices ran into my mouth, her hips starting to move as I sought out every single soft and sensitive spot with my lips and tongue.

"Ohhh, good sir! How skilled you are with your tongue. My cunny is quite on fire!" My hands moved to encircle her bottom, to pull her down on to me. I wanted to go ever deeper inside her, to be engulfed by her cunt. I found her swollen clit and drew it between my lips, sucking first softly then hard and urgently.

Her orgasm, when it came, matched mine. Her cunt gushed into my mouth, her sweet juices running down the sides of my face. I felt myself grow dizzy as her legs squeezed and tensed and shook. I looked up at the wonderful sight of her breasts bouncing and her eyes shut tight with pleasure.

"My sir truly is a gentleman for pleasing my kitty so wonderfully. But I wonder if my sir is an ... adventurous gentleman, shall we say? Will you let me show you something no other woman can give you?"

There was no hesitation in my mind. Marion threw back the covers and moved down the bed, settling her hips above my throbbing cock. For all of the physical sensation, she was still a ghostly figure, glowing, flourescing, present yet incorporeal. A small part of my mind puzzled at this and then gave up: the prospect of pleasure was too great.

Her hand moved to my cock, wanking it slowly and gently, before raising it so it stood upright. (Was my cock somehow much thicker and longer than normal? Surely not.)

Slowly her hips descended. I felt the tip of my cock nudge her cunt lips apart, beginning to feel the burning heat inside her. Slowly she slid down my length, and I almost came immediately. For not only could I feel what she was doing to me -- I could see my cock inside her, inside her glowing lines, see the walls of her cunt sucking me in and squeezing me. The sight was unbelievably arousing; she tossed her head back and laughed, before she leant forward, her hands on my shoulders, her glistening curls hanging around my head. Marion began to ride.

The sight of what she was doing to my cock was exquisite. And the sensations were utterly overwhelming. Her cunt was tight, hot, wet and yet seemed to ripple and caress me in ways I had never felt before.

"Fuck me, my good sir. Fuck me good and hard."

And we fucked. Oh, how we fucked. Having come once, I was ready to stay the course with her, to match every thrust of her hips with one of my own. Her nails dug into my shoulders; I slapped her bottom. Her teeth nibbled at my throat; my fingers found her hard nipples and pinched and pulled, eliciting mental groans of pleasure and pain.

She slowed her movements, leaning back and supporting herself with her arms stretched back.

"Watch closely now, good sir. The adventure is just beginning."

I watched her hand descend between her legs to play with her clit as she steadily moved up and down the length of my cock, her cunt pulsing around it. And then I saw it. Deep within her, above the head of my cock, a glowing filament of light that was extending out of nowhere.

The strand of light moved with delicate slowness towards my aching cock. It circled the head of it, and I could swear it felt as if she was licking me inside her cunt. And then... and then that light found my cockhole, and started to worm its way inside.

The feeling initially was one of shock, but it was not unpleasant. Far from it. The strand was soft and wet and squirmy, and the deeper it moved into my cock, the harder I grew -- even harder, I should say, for already I was like iron. I could see my cock bulge further as Marion fed herself inside me. The light moved further; I felt its warmth deep in my balls and it curled itself around every sensitive part of me.

And then she moved, and the light moved, and the whole world was just us fucking: me fucking Marion, Marion fucking me. The tendrils of light stroked me from the inside; her cunt walls stroked me from the outside.

"Oh my good sir! How I love fucking your prick, how my cunny is stretched!"

Our hips hammered against each other. Her magnificent breasts bounced hard as she rose and fell. And then we both came.

I could see the ropes of cum emerging from me; see my cock head swell with each burst of spunk. And I could feel her juices flood into me as the tendril of light embedded in me writhed in pleasure. And it went on, and on, and on. Shot after shot of spunk; rush after rush of juice. Her cries rang in my head as she collapsed forward onto me, wrapping me in her arms and squeezing me so hard I nearly couldn't breathe.

***

I awoke alone, with daylight creeping into the room. And now, perhaps, you see why it has taken me some time to put that night into words.

I could just dismiss it as the most extravagantly dirty dream I've ever had. Except...

Except that I could feel the scratches on my shoulders from her nails.

Except that the room reeked of sex.

And except that I hold in my fingers now what I found next to my pillow: a scrap of fine cunt-soaked lace that tasted of Marion.

Even now, three days later, it is wet and warm.