Haley Thistle
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Andres the Ghost
🕑 Added 2022-04-08 19:00:04 +0000 UTC
No one had lived in the house for a long time after your grandfather passed your grandmother moved in with you and your mother. It had been left alone for years until your grandmother handed you the keys, telling you that you could have the place.
It was old, something your grandfather had inherited from his grandfather and so on and so on. As you stand in the empty doorway, noticing that with years of abandonment there was more work to be done to this place than you had thought. You sigh heavily and set your things down, walking through the house to see what there was to it.
Most of the rooms were empty, a few had furniture covered and wrapped in plastic from when your grandmother left. The kitchen was nice and everything it still worked so you chose to sleep in the bedroom closest to it since the rest of the house seemed useless until you get to figure out what needed to be done.
Your first night there was quiet, you were always used to a loud house so while you thought you’d enjoy being alone you were realizing it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. You lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling, looking at the yellowed white paint and following a crack along the edge that seemed to follow the piping.
As your eyes begin to flutter and you drift to sleep you feel something brush through your hair. Opening your eyes you don’t see anything, you swat in the case of bugs and then roll over in the bed and close your eyes again.
That night you dream someone is lying beside you, touching your cheek and smiling at you. They study your hands and touch it to their face. They seem lonely, aching to be touched, but no matter how hard you reach out to comfort them you can’t move.
When you wake in the morning, you’re tucked in. You don’t remember even lifting the blankets last night when you laid down. You look at the ceiling, noticing that the crack you had seen last night is just…gone.
When you get up to go to the bathroom you notice that floors seem clean, which mopping was something you had planned to do that day, all day in fact. Touching the hardwood floors they felt positively polished. In the bathroom, it was cleaned too. The toilet had no rings and was pristine white. The sink was scrubbed free of all rust and mildew, and the mirror was no longer fogged over.
You were absolutely certain all of this were things written on your to-do list, yet all of it was done. Old houses often had spirits but rarely were they ever this helpful. If that were true, you reminded yourself.
As the week goes by, things like that keep happening. Chores get taken care of while you sleep, the house seems to come back to life and glow without you even touching it. At night you dream about a figure that touches you and whispers to you and you wish you could reply to them.
Finally one day you decide to stay up all night and catch whoever or whatever is responsible. You sit in the kitchen, staring out the door into the living room where you had planned to clean the fireplace and seal it off.
As the clock ticks passed one you hear what sounds like footsteps coming down the hall. You look up to the door and press your lips into a tight line.
“You should go to bed,” the voice is gentle and deep, but you don’t know where it’s come from.
“What?” You gasp, jumping to your feet.
A shimmer appears in the doorway, almost like the light flickering but it takes shape and comes towards you. It looks like fog on a mirror, it’s shaped somewhat solid as it comes to you.
“I didn’t want to have to do this now but-” his voice cracks nervously.
“You’ve been here all this time?” You know you should be asking other things, freaking out even, but for some reason, that’s all you can say.
He turns his head towards you, “you’re not…well…screaming?”
“I’m honestly not sure what I should be doing,” you walk around the table towards him.
He reaches out with a slow hand and brushes the hair from in your face. “You should go to bed then. You’re probably exhausted.”
“How can I sleep now?” You gasp. “I have so many questions!” You step closer to him and look up at him, he stands several heads above you. “Why have you been fixing the house?”
“Because of you,” he replies quietly. He takes your hands into his. “I’ve been alone for so long, there was no reason to keep this house going. Then you came and…”
You’re surprised he can touch you, he’s cold and you can see your breath when he’s close to you. His touch feels like cold glass and morning dew on the grass, but somehow solid. You squeeze his hands back.
“And?” You ask.
“I wanted to make you happy…make you like me.”
His words sound so sad, so pitiful. You wonder how long he’s been alone in this house and how painful it must be. “Thank you,” you smile at him. “And, I’m happy to have you here. You should have just introduced yourself.”
He sighs in relief and pulls you into a hug that’s tight. You hug back, putting your arms around him, feeling what you could of his opaque form. After a moment he tugs you back into your bedroom and insists you go bed. He tucks you in and before he goes you swear you feel a kiss on your temple as you snuggle into the pillow.
The next morning he greets you the kitchen, having made you breakfast. He sits with you as you eat, overjoyed to simply do that. The more you two talk the less you notice he’s actually some sort of spirit. He’s a warm and friendly and you never realized how much you craved a friend around until now.
He enjoys touching you, at first, his touches were cautious and timid like stepping a toe into the water before jumping in. They grew though, soon he always seemed to have a hand on you. When you two grew closer he would hug and cuddle with you.
One night you ask him to stay with you.
“Really?” His voice cracks. “Are you sure?”
You nod and take his hand. “Stay with me tonight,” you tug his arm to make him lean down and you kiss him. You feel his hands move around your waist and he lifts you up and sets you into bed.
“But I’m cold,” his hand cups your cheek.
You shake your head, kissing his fingertips. “Did I ever say that?”
He kisses you again, your lips feel cool and damp, as he kisses down your neck you shiver. You wondered if a ghost could make love, but you were willing to find out.
You hitch up your leg and touch between your thighs. You grunt softly, feeling him watch you as you begin to touch yourself. He whimpers as he watches you, his hands on your thighs and spreading your legs so he can see more.
You moan for him, sliding your fingers along your folds and opening them so he can see every inch.
“Can I?” His voice sounds deeper than before.
You blush and nod, shyly pulling your hand away. You feel his cool touch as he mimics your fingers. He groans and trembles, pressing a finger inside you. You cry out and he pulls his hand away.
“Come back,” you whimper.
“Sorry I thought…so….that felt good for you?”
You wiggle your hips, “you felt very good.”
He pants, his breath coming out in thick white clouds that begin to fog up the room. He opens your thighs again and kneels between them, kissing down your stomach. You bite your lip and close your eyes, feeling his lips on your slit you softly moan.
He presses closer, his chill felt surprisingly good against your own heat. It feels strange, like rubbing up against a corner but also soft. He kisses more and groans, meeting your pleasured sounds as you begin to feel the heat grow in your belly. He presses something inside you and your back arches, feeling something slippery and cold inside you. It ached at first but as it moved inside of you, it brought a new pleasure to your body.
Your hips begin to shake and you pant, gripping to the sheets as your orgasm ripples through your body and crashes down. You fall against the bed and catch your breath. As he crawls on top of you to kiss you, you’re thankful for his cool body. It feels so good on your heated skin.
“I love touching you,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive.
“Touch me more,” you beg. “If it feels good for you,” you pet down his side.
You feel something rub against you, slicking itself in your wetness. “You’re so warm…” He then moves you, turning you onto your stomach and pulling you to the edge of the bed.
“This will be better for…” his voice trails off and you feel his cold hands grip and knead your rear.
You moan softly into the blankets, his fingers slipping in you slit and then around your tight pucker. You flinch and push your ass out more to him, wanting his touch there. You felt something cold and slippery at your ass, something presses inside and then removes itself before pushing back in again. You whimper, it hurts at first but with each gentle push, it begins to feel good.
He’s panting, the room dark with all the fog. He slowly eases inside and groans, pushing deep inside your ass. Your whimpers turn to moans, his fingers paying attention to your hot slit as his cock cool inside your ass. You feel something slippery with his touch, it begins to drip along your skin and down your sex. His ectoplasm.
He begins to move faster, harder, pushing you hard against the bed and rattling it as he pants and groans. His voice seems to echo and vibrate in the thick fog. You moan and cry into the sheets, letting him use you.
You feel a pulse, a throbbing, his cock inside you stuffing your ass full of his ectoplasm. You grunt and sigh, wiggling so he released every little drop inside of you. Before you can turn to smile at him you feel him push inside your slit.
“Hey, what-” your voice is cut off as he presses something thick and wonderfully filling inside of you. You grunt and giggle at the feeling of being stuffed so full in both holes.
“Don’t…don’t you need to…to rest?” You coo, hoping he said no.
“I don’t need rest at all,” he answers, breathing against your ear. “I won’t stop until you want me to.”
You bury your face in the sheets as he begins to fuck you so hard the bed shakes again. You feel pummeled by a hard wind, your body utterly pleasured and filled with lust. His ectoplasm leaks and gushes from both holes. You tremble and shake, crying out as he brings you over the edge.
Eventually, you have to tap out. With a weak hand, you wave for mercy and you collapse onto the bed, breathing hard and wheezing, your body slippery from sweat and ectoplasm. He pulls himself from you, moaning happily. You feel stuffed full with him still as it leaks down your legs.
You’re grateful as he takes you to the bathroom and sets you in a steaming hot tub. You grunt a thanks and lay there until your sense come back to you. He’s sitting at the other end of the tub, rubbing your feet and legs.
“I can’t see your face,” you pant, “but I know it must be smug.”
“Maybe, but I am awfully pleased. It’s been so long I’ve felt so good.”
You coax him to your end of the tub and rest against him, the room filling with steam. “I have to admit, that’s the best I’ve ever felt,” you look up at him. “But I am worried.”
“About?”
“Your…stamina,” you blush. “You never wear out.”
“I’m sort of a ghost so I have no limit,” he replies, sounding embarrassed. “I could fuck you to death, is that what you’re worried about?”
You laugh and kiss his neck. “I know you wouldn’t. We were both a little pent up this go but, maybe next time we can be less…primal more, loving.”
“I can do that,” he squeezed you tight and nuzzles the top of your head.
