Patrick Gets Ghosted

Pat had picked the house up for next to nothing. Nestled in a residential neighborhood on an oddly shaped lot jammed between an overgrown creek bed where it fed into a larger river, the place had been empty for decades. It was a tiny house. Just four rooms, but what more did Pat need.

He'd never been good at relationships. The last try a few years ago had been a disaster. Her constant cheating and proclivity to treat him as a platonic sugar daddy was relentlessly toxic and things just fell apart before they really got started. Since then, he'd just decided to go it alone.

The place needed a lot of work. The minimum had been done by the prior owners to keep it relatively weathertight, but it was old, pre-dating the rest of the houses in the area by a lot. It sat askew on the lot, out of character with the rest of the neighborhood. It was the out-of-character nature that had caught Pat's attention in the first place.

He'd moved things in from his apartment, made a run to the local big box for some odds and ends, and was settling down with a good book that first evening when the lamp flickered. Not surprising as the wiring was probably 100 years old. Add one more thing to the list.

Retiring to bed, he turned out the lights. The quarter moon shone through the window casting a dull glow that silhouetted the sparse furnishings. He was having a little issue falling asleep. Maybe a bit of paranoia as he felt somehow that there was another presence in the home. That something was somehow watching him. But that was impossible.

However, as the first few weeks had passed, the feeling that there was something or someone else there grew rather than dissipated. He found himself doing compensatory things that he wasn't fully aware of and couldn't fully explain to himself. Like sleeping on one side of the bed, rather than the middle of the mattress. Sitting on the same end of the sofa all the time. Things that didn't really make sense to him.

It was late at night when he first saw her. Just a shimmering outline that blinked into focus for a microsecond and then was gone. But the vision was indelibly etched in his mind's eye. A young woman in a simple rustic dress. Like something from colonial days. She was pretty and seemed... sad in a way that touched him. He blinked his eyes several times but she was gone.

There was no doubt in his mind that what he'd seen was real. Pat was a lot of things, but he wasn't prone to bouts of imaginary fantasy. And a week later, when he'd gotten up to get a drink of water. She was there at the kitchen table. Sitting placidly, a wistful look on her pretty face, her hands folded in her lap.

Suddenly in the silence he heard a feminine voice in his head.

"You're up late, Patrick." It seemed to say.

"Who are you. What are you doing here?" He whispered to the empty room.

"This is my house, Patrick. I've been here a long, long time." It replied.

"How did you come to be here?" Pat wondered.

"My husband and I came here. Before any of this...town was here. It was just wilderness then. We built this house to live our lives in, and to raise our family. But none of that ever happened." The voice explained.

"Why? What did happen?" Pat asked.

"It was the end of Autumn, and he'd gone on a trapping trip far away to the North country. He was gone a long time. Longer than planned and we'd run out of provisions. I was so hungry. I found some berries and ate them. Then I felt sick and fainted. And that's how he found me a couple weeks later." She explained.

"You...died?" Patrick asked.

"I died. And he was sad and went away after he buried me." She said.

"You've been here the whole time?" Patrick wondered.

"I have. So lonely." She sniffed.

"How come I can see you now, but I haven't before. Just that one flash?" He asked.

"I was afraid to let you. Afraid you'd leave if I did. That has happened before. And it was so nice to have someone here again. To lay in bed with you and listen to your breathing. To sit on the sofa and watch the picture making machine." She admitted.

"Wait. You've been... sleeping with me?" He gasped.

"Aye... I have." She seemed to avert her gaze. "Though, I don't really sleep. I don't need to. It's just nice to know you're right next to me."

"What...what's your name?" Patrick asked.

"Prudence or just Pru." She replied.

Patrick stared at her. She seemed less translucent for a minute or two. She was quite pretty. Around twenty. Even in her simple garb, he could tell she'd had a really cute figure.

"I... don't know what to say. We've been... sleeping together. Wow...." He muttered. "And I had no idea..."

"Patrick. My apologies. I know it's inappropriate for a married woman, but I was just so lonely. It just seemed so natural. And I would further argue that on some level you've been aware of me here. You sleep on your side of the bed, as I do on mine." Pru explained.

"Yes, but you're not... real." Pat complained.

"Oh, but I am." Prudence rejoined. "Not, perhaps in the ways that I once was. But in other ways I've discovered."

"How for example?" Pat interrogated.

Pru rose from the chair and approached him. He felt her hands take his wrist. Of course, nothing corporeal was touching him, but his nerves told him otherwise. It felt just like she was, and she guided his hand up to cup the soft globe of her breast. And he 'felt' it in his hand, even though nothing solid was there.

"Like this." She sighed.

"How... are?" Patrick wondered.

"I can create the sensation. In your nerves and in your mind. It isn't corporeal, but it's nonetheless quite real." Pru explained. "What's more, it feeds back into me. Feels quite wonderful, truly. Almost like being alive again."

"I know. It feels just like I'm touching you." Patrick said in awe.

"Because you are, love." Pru grinned at him. "But that's not all... come."

She led Patrick to the bedroom and bade him to take off his clothes. She glimmered for a few moments and then re-coalesced sans clothing. She really was beautiful.

Telling Pat to lay on the bed, she then proceeded to lay on top of him. He felt the light sensation of her body against his for a minute or so. Then the strange sensation that she was melting into his body. She shimmered as she sank into him. The room seemed to darken slightly. It felt like every nerve in his body was alight. He felt her within his own body connecting to him in a way that would be impossible if she were a living woman.

His cock was instantly and intensely erect. A raging hardon the likes of which he'd never felt before, and like someone was steadily turning a dial he felt an increasingly intense sensual stimulation until in less than a minute his cock exploded in a geyser of cum. Not spurts, but a steady stream shot from his cock and landed on his chest shooting until his balls were literally drained dry.

It was simply the most erotic experience he'd ever had or could imagine having. And as she extricated herself from him he felt an amazing glow as her body floated just above his on the bed. Her lips coming to rest on his as she hovered there, the nipples of her breasts rubbing lightly against his goo covered chest.

She reached down and patiently worked his cock until he was hard again. Straddling his prone body, he felt like he was truly entering her for real. Her hands on his chest and her thighs clasping his hips, she rode him in slow steady strokes, seeming to cum herself, she eventually coaxed what little cum remained in him and he shot another load onto his stomach.

"Oh! My Love," She cooed. "I haven't felt like that in centuries."

She drifted down next to him in the bed. And soon he fell asleep with her beside him.

There were, of course, disadvantages to having a ghost as a lover. Some of the most basic sexual positions were just not possible because of her lack of actual physical substance. And many of the normal activities of day-to-day life were a bit skewed as there was no need, for instance, to cook or do laundry when it came to her. Also when they did have sex, he had to clean it up afterwards because he just shot wherever it was pointing at the moment.

But there were ample advantages as well. There was no need for contraception. She could to some degree alter her appearance regarding clothing, hair styles, and such. Mostly Pat liked her naked, like how she'd first appeared to him. And since he was the only one who could really see her, there was little chance of being outed. He had brought a lingerie catalog home though, and Pru was very receptive to trying out some of the more seductive looks for the sake of variety.

When his mom had come for a visit for a few days, Pru just observed quietly and nodded her approval if Pat's mom said anything particularly apt.

All in all, the advantages of having a girlfriend who happened to have been dead for a few hundred years, far outweighed not being able to do missionary position. And if he came to be known around the neighborhood as that quirky guy in the little house, who was always talking to himself, he was okay with that.