My Sexy Poltergeist

By the time the last of the lube was gone from the dildo, I could swear the mouth that had been on my nipples was at my clit. I was so damn wet, almost gushing with heavy, slick girl-cum, yet I hadn't cum yet.

"Yes," I muttered, wanting it all. In that moment I acknowledge to myself that it wasn't my imagination or insanity. I had a ghost lover. I always thought poltergeists were destructive, but this one only destroyed my self-restraint.

A big, warm hand guided my hand, the one that held the huge dildo, to my pussy. It was clear what he wanted. I slid the now-licked-clean dildo through my wet folds, making sure it slid against my throbbing clit and through the sensitive valley between my folds. A foreign pressure pushed it against my body, deepening the contact with my clitoral wings, and I broke into unexpected orgasm. It was a small one, like the foreshock of an earthquake that was inevitably massive.

The hands guided mine to seat the tip of the dildo in my pussy, then... I didn't push. In fact, it was no longer in my hands. The dildo slid deep, bottoming out inside of me with very little left showing, then it was fucking me like a man, tilted perfectly to pressure my g-spot.

I reached up to pinch my nipples, for the extra stimulation. I always wanted more than just my pussy being fucked, though I was perfectly capable of a purely vaginal -- or anal -- orgasm. It was so good until I felt the mouth return to my clit.

Thank goodness for soundproofing between the apartments, because I screamed. I wasn't a screamer, but the avalanche of sensation short-circuited my entire nervous system, sending me into an all-consuming orgasm of all time.

The next night my incorporeal lover didn't show up. Nor the night after that.

For a few nights I felt little touches, caresses. It was like he was there, but perhaps, if it took some kind of ghostly strength to touch me through the veil that separated us, he had exhausted himself, fucking me with my own dildo.

Halloween night felt special. All day long, I felt a tingling apprehension I couldn't name. I felt like something incredibly important would happen that night.

I was invited to several parties, but I declined. I wasn't much in the mood for parties, and I had a feeling I needed to be at home.

During my early shift I dressed as a sexy purple and black witch, which earned me at least double tips. Imagine if they knew what I wore underneath.

I got home well after dark, and I hoped my phantom lover would appreciate my efforts. I thought about "sexy ghost," but that seemed a little wrong somehow. What if he was sensitive about being a ghost? What if he wasn't a ghost at all?

Admittedly, I read up on various supernatural beings. I learned about different types of ghosts, and I felt I was right, that my sexy spook was a poltergeist, but I also worried that he was some kind of demon, or an incubus. But I felt better after each encounter, not worse.

He certainly wasn't an angry poltergeist. He was a horny one!

The end of October was a time to celebrate the dead in some places, like the Day of the Dead in Mexico, and a day to celebrate imagination and all things supernatural in the US.

I was going to celebrate my personal ghost in our unique way.

I was in for a shock when I stepped into my apartment. I hadn't turned on the light yet, but the curtains and blinds were open, and the pale light from the waning crescent moon shone in the window, revealing Tall, Dark and Handsome, standing right there in my living room. He somehow appeared both solid and not. Like, I felt like I could see through him, but not, at the same time. He wore jeans and a light sweater that stretched across well-developed muscles, a puffer vest, and slippers on his feet. A camera with an impressively large, long lens hung around his neck.

Not what I would have expected. I had to wonder if there were pornographic photos of me with my dildos in the netherworld.

"Ooh," I pitched the sound high, startled. "You're, you're here."

Tall, Dark, and Handsome smiled at me, and mouthed words I couldn't hear, but you didn't have to be a lip reader to understand "I'm here just for you."

If he had any other expression other than lust and eagerness, those words from what was clearly a ghost -- so

"You're real," I stood my ground and let him approach. When he smoothed an errant tendril of hair back from my face, I

It was the first time I got a good look at him. I had no idea how I could see him so well in the dim moonlight, but it was like I could see him completely. He was tall, perhaps a few inches above six feet, and he had wide, strong shoulders and arms thick with muscle. He definitely worked out. He didn't miss leg day, either. His jeans were well filled out, both thighs and a notable bulge pressing outward from behind the zipper.

Did ghosts work out? If not, that last workout before he... I guess died... was with him forever.

"Wow. You are so hot. And I guess you're a ghost?"

His sad smile confirmed my thoughts. He was a ghost, perhaps a recent development.

His fingers traced the side of my face and down my neck, until he rested his hand on the side of my neck, cupping it.

And he kissed me.

Holy hell what a kiss. There was absolutely nothing ghost-like about that kiss. It was hot and wet and everything every man had failed to do before.

He ignited me.

Fumbling, we tore at his clothes. Since my witch costume didn't cover much, his clothes went first. His camera somehow disappeared, jacket and shirt went first, revealing an expanse of dark skin on his chest and shoulders, tattooed with designs I couldn't make out in the moonlight and didn't bother taking time to try. All I wanted was to taste this man, and I did. My lips found his nipples, and I sucked and nipped at them as I undid his jeans.

I could see the vibration of the silent groan that came from his throat as I pulled his cock from his pants. I felt him push the heavy velvet hooded cape from my shoulders.

Damn! He was nearly the size of the porn-size dildo we played with just a few days earlier, thick, cut, with the slime of precum leaking from the slit on the thick purple head.

He provided me with so much pleasure with his mouth in the past weeks, so I slid to my knees and took his cock in my mouth, first swirling the precum around with my tongue before I slid his thick member deep, to the back of my mouth. I couldn't' deep-throat anything that large, but I could try.

His hips shuddered, and his hands tangled in my hair as I worked his balls in one hand and his shaft in the other. He started fucking my mouth. I didn't have much of a gag reflex, and little by little I found I could take him deeper until I was nearly to the base. I could feel his cock in my throat, and his groans and shouts vibrated the air around me silently.

He pulled out of my mouth suddenly, and I found myself, still drooling, carried toward my bedroom. My pillows were piled high at the headboard, and he lay me on the bed reverently, staring down at me. I realized the blinds were open in my room, too, and the pale moonlight let me watch as he slid his jeans down his hips and he stepped out of them, revealing his narrow hips and damn if his legs weren't as muscular and well-formed as his upper body.

"Oh, hell to the yes," I muttered as he climbed between my knees and began to unlace the front of my witchy corset. He was good at it, too, touching and kissing me as he worked, until the corset fell free behind me, and he pushed up my black lacy blouse to reveal the spider-web lace bra underneath.

I could feel his reaction through his chest. It was so fucking sexy.

I pulled the shirt off over my head and he flipped up the short skirt, and licked his lips when he realized the matching panties were entirely crotchless and assless. They really didn't have a purpose except as body décor.

It was like the floodgates opened. We'd been making foreplay for three weeks, and neither of us wanted to wait any longer. I was soaked and ready for him, and he was hot and hard as I took him in my hand to help guide him to the promised land.

In one deep stroke he took me, burying his huge cock to the hilt in my welcoming pussy.

"Holy shit yes, yes, yes," I cried as he held himself still for a moment, then wrapped my legs around his waist. It was crazy how I could feel his solid warmth and see his face and body, but somehow I could still make out the design on the ceiling behind him.

I concentrated on tuning out the eerie translucent quality to his being, and on the cock buried deep inside of me. "Please, move," I begged.

And did he. His hips and mine found their rhythmic balance in a dance as old as time as he fucked me until I was sure I was going to die of pleasure as he alternated between pounding me with his powerful body and slowly grinding against my clit.

We were both close when he reached between my legs to pinch my clit while his mouth took mine in a deep, frantic kiss as my orgasm crushed me, sending me spiraling into the depths of the most incredible pleasure I could imagine.

Through it I felt him grunting into me, and a hot pool of seed flowed into me, heating my depths with his cum.

He collapsed on me, both heavy, and weightless. We both slept for a while, then woke for me to ride him hard. I was still wearing my skirt and crotchless panties, and I straddled him and slid down his pole until he was a deep as possible as he massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples, sending sparks of energy straight to my clit. I stared at the place we were joined, I marveled at how I could take the whole thing; he was huge. I stared down at where the dark cock speared my wide-stretched pussy.

That didn't last long, and he flipped me and grabbed me by the waist, pulling me back so he fucked me from behind until we both exploded, my spasming pussy milking his cock for the hot spill he left behind.

The third time we woke, the clock showed it was only a few hours until first light. The moon was gone, but I could still make out his features in the city lights that reflected in the window. He was awake. Perhaps he never slept, only kept watch over me. But he wasn't as solid as he had been. I could very much see through him.

We made love slowly and gently. He peppered me with tiny kisses as he brought me to orgasm, this time a slow, burning pleasure that ate through my body like a slow acid.

The next time I woke up, he was gone. I stretched in my bed languorously, like a pleased cat. Or a pleased pussy. I finally stripped off the short skirt and panties, which somehow still clung to my body, though the skirt was twisted. The panties were tougher than they looked and, except for being soaked through with bodily fluids, were in perfect condition.

Hell, I was planning to frame them to remember that incredible night.

I never found his clothes. I know I dropped them on the floor, but I supposed they were part of his ghostly existence and went with him wherever he went during the day.

I did find the camera. I found the data card and plugged it into my computer. It had hundreds of fall photos, gorgeous mixes of mountains, red and yellow aspens with boulders, creeks, clinging to cliffsides, isolated in stands of evergreens.

He really was a talented photographer.

The next set of photos stunned me breathless. Photos of me. There were dozens of them. A few were clearly taken right about the time I first started having my dreams, or perhaps a few days earlier, since I had a tank top on outside. It would have been a day or two before that first big freeze, but the fall colors behind me and the fallen leaves under my feet and on the park bench around me was beautiful, artistic. I was at the park down the street from the cafe. I remembered that day, it was my last nice day to eat my lunch outside without freezing and I had intended to take advantage of it.

Then there were beautiful sunset pictures, clearly taken from the patio on the roof. They were stunning.

Then there were... oh my god. Pictures from the apartment, inside. Pictures of me laying on the couch, of me fingering myself, of me in my bed with my blue bunny toy, in my white lingerie with the black dildo. The photos were spectacular, I could feel the passion and grace through the image. They transcended porn and stepped into the world of art.

I never felt graceful before, but pictures didn't lie, did they?

I quickly transferred all of the pictures from inside the apartment to my computer and deleted them from the SD card.

There was no way I wanted those out there.

On second thought, I also transferred the other photos to my computer, too, left the files on the SD card and returned it to the camera.

I had no idea if he could, or would come back for his camera, but those were just too private. Too special. I put the camera in my hall closet, uncertain what to do with a ghost camera that certainly felt very real and normal.

On the night of November first, I waited for my ghost to return to me, but he didn't. My spectral lover was gone.

My family came out for Thanksgiving, and thankfully my poltergeist didn't show up. How would I explain my suddenly moaning and cumming while watching Christmas specials with my parents and brothers? Nope. But I did want him back.

My life went back to something resembling normal. Not really normal, though, because it was my first real winter in Glenwood Springs. I'd been there over school holidays with my family, but to treat myself for the holidays, I signed up for more snowboarding lessons, where I met a really hot instructor who seemed to be as into me as I was into him.

It was time to get back on the pill, and it was time for my next pap. The gynecologist's office in Glenwood Springs had the usual intake stuff. I hadn't done that in a while, since I had the same doctor in my hometown for five years.

"Date of last period."

I stared at the question. I hadn't had a period since I started on the month-round pill regimen back when I was sixteen.

I never had a period since right after I quit the pill. I hadn't been to any parties or had any unexplained time loss. There was no way I could get pregnant from "an imaginary friend," right? Or a ghost. I mean, ghosts weren't solid. They weren't real.

I noted my last period, with a note to see my medication history, and the last date I took the pill.

"A sample, please?" The intake nurse handed me one of those awful little cups and directed me into a restroom with the little door that opened to the lab.

You know where it goes from there. I was pregnant.

Not just pregnant. Twins.

That night there was a heavy snowstorm, and I was stuck at home for two days. The cafe was closed while the streets and sidewalks were cleared of a record-breaking storm that left more than five feet of snow in the mountains.. Businesses and residents cleared roofs, too, since the heavy snow threatened collapse in some places.

I passed the building maintenance crew heading up to our roof as I was going out to work. It was a slow day, and I went home early. Just after I got home, there was a knock at my door. Two police officers stood in the doorway with serious expressions.

"Ma'am, do you know this man?" The officers offered a printout of a photo.

I stared at it in shock. It was a studio type photo of a handsome, dark-skinned Black man with vivid deep blue eyes.

"Oh my god," I sputtered. I never expected to see my ghost in any kind of reality.

"So that's a yes?"

I nodded. "We met once, but I never got his name. It was back in October," I said as truthfully as I could.

"When was the last time you saw him?" The female officer had her pen out, ready to take notes.

"Can I ask why? What has he done?" I needed more clues before I sounded like a nutter.

"Nothing, ma'am. His body was found on the patio, under the snow. No one reported him missing until he didn't show up for Thanksgiving dinner back home, and the owner of the unit found his belongings still in the rental when he went to clean it for the next renter. His body was found on the patio this morning when they were clearing the snow. We're trying to establish a when he went missing so we know the date of his death, but it looks like an accident, he slipped on the ice."

I gasped. The timing was...

"It was early October. Like, around the seventh?" I tried to remember that first time I dreamed of my hot ghost. "It was right about when they closed the patio for the winter."

"Wait, What was his name?" I needed to know. My poltergeist needed a name.

"Bryson Cole Evans, 28, of Long Beach, California. He was a photographer here to shoot fall colors," the cop said. "We're still looking for his camera."

"Wait," I lunged for the closet and pulled down the camera. "He left his here the last time he visited," I told them. "I thought he left without it. Without telling me."

They peered at me doubtfully, then looked through the camera's file, which included the pictures of me at the park. They really were beautiful pictures, with the aspens behind me.

"He's the father of my babies," I blurted, one hand on my abdomen, disbelief shuddering through me.

The female cop looked at me sadly.

"He was," she corrected me gently.

Today is October seventh, a full year after my first otherworldly encounter. My twins, a boy and a girl, were born four weeks before their official due dates. My parents, disgusted with my choice to keep the pregnancy and not return to school, were further shocked that my babies were clearly and obviously Black.

They didn't quite cut me off. The condo became my permanent home, even if it was still part of the family holdings.

"I can't stay there anymore with the idea of you and 'that man' doing the nasty in my vacation home," Mom sniffed. "You may as well keep it."

I had my barista job -- I was promoted to assistant manager -- and my trust fund to support us. There was also money from Bryson, which was put in the babies' names. Bryson's parents insisted. Bryson was a big-time sports photographer and former NCAA football player and had a decent inheritance to leave to his kids. I moved into the master suite and began to convert my brother's bedroom into a nursery.

It would be decorated with the fall photos their father took before he died.

Since no date of death had ever been established for Bryson, I told authorities and his family to tell them I had an "encounter" with him just before his disappearance. Which was true enough, since his ghost disappeared so soon after we had sex. Because of the photos of me in the park, they decided to believe me.

The twins both looked exactly like Bryson, with dark skin and deep blue eyes. DNA test confirmed my babies were his, and their early arrival and large size stopped any questions about the timing. Not that his parents would question anything. Bryson was their only child, and they treated Bryson Cole Evans, Junior and Brielle Colwyn Evans like they were the most precious babies on Earth, miracles from beyond.

Little did they know!

I absolutely believe in ghosts now. I believe Bryson had "unfinished business" to provide heirs for his parents, so they wouldn't be left totally alone in the world. Or perhaps he simply still desired children himself. Once he did that, I believe he was no longer needed here, so that essence of self went wherever the energy of life went when a dying body could no longer house it.

But last night I had a dream about Bryson, and I woke up with a body-shattering orgasm.

Happy Halloween!