This series was inspired by a twitter micro-story I wrote for #HorrorPrompt

Inspiration Micro story: In the haunted house, Lara woke feeling fingers wrapping round her wrists & ankles. The ghostly fingers jerked her hands over her head & pulled her legs open, & she gave a small cry. She felt the cold breath of ghostly lips on her nipples & shivered. #horrorprompt #horrorerotica 

It’s Very Quiet Over Here… How Jill Became a Ghost Hunter

The house was quiet when Jill entered. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought she was alone. But Jill did know better.

The bottom story of the old manor house was empty of everything except dust, but Jill believed ghosts. And this house was going to give her an audition tape for a new ghost hunting show.

She dropped her backpack on the wood floor and started setting up for the night. She balanced her camera on the mantle and turned it on, making sure it could see the entire room.

When the ghost manifested, she was going to get it on film. With the camera filming, she set laid out a sleeping bag, flashlight, and few odds and ends to make staying overnight in a vacant house more comfortable.

She relaxed on top of her sleeping bag and called out to the ghosts.

The only answer she got was silence. After about fifteen minutes, she was bored. She rolled on to her stomach and pulled out a magazine. She paged through, holding the flashlight in her free hand. Until she was certain she felt someone in the room. She rolled back over and shone the light around the room.

It still looked empty. She called out again, inviting any spirits to communicate with her. The feeling of hands touching her arms was almost instantaneous.

“Fuck me,” she muttered. “Ghosts are real.” She wondered if the camera was able to see the ghosts that she couldn’t. The ghostly touching wasn’t going to make a compelling audition.    

The ghost, perhaps taking her oath as an invitation, moved its hands down her arms. Jill shivered to feel ghostly hands brush over her nipples and bit her lip. Nothing she’d read or watched about ghost hunting led her to expect this.   

The hands disappeared, and she decided at that moment that she was going to let this encounter unfold. “I just felt a ghost touching… me” Jill said, pausing not sure about admitting the ghost had been touching her tits. “Come back, spirit,” Jill said to the empty room.

The hands returned, this time cupping and squeezing her tits. Her moan drifted through the empty house, and her nipples stiffened.

It was strange to clearly feel hands touching her, but have no body, no presence to focus on. But it was enough for Jill to forget about her audition tape and let the ghostly presence continue its exploration of her body.  

When the hands paused, Jill pulled her shirt over her head tossing it aside. Her bra and jeans followed. She was shimming out of her panties when the hands returned to her tits, joined by hands on her legs.

“How many ghosts are in this house?” She asked, before the hands teasing her tits found her nipples and started rolling the hard nubs. Jill moaned softly, “oh yes.”

The hands touching her legs moved higher pulling her forgotten panties down to her ankles. When the fingers started stroking her thighs, she spread her legs. “More,” she begged and felt the ghostly fingers replaced with something larger. The ghost cock pressed inside her, and she bucked her hips up loving the feeling.

The ghostly fingers in her nipples continue to pinch and tug at her, and she urged on the rough touching. She thrust her hips up to meet the ghost, feeling its cock filling her, but having no sensation of a body. It was almost like using a dildo that controlled itself.

Jill reached been her thighs, rubbing her clit while the ghostly cock fucked her. She briefly wondered what would happen when the ghost orgasmed before the grew distracted by the ghost fucking her changing his pace. Seeing her touching herself must have turned him on as his thrusting grew harder and faster.

When Jill came, she shuddered and twitched on the sleeping bag. The ghost wasn’t far behind her, and she felt its cock twitch and a rush of cold as it orgasmed. She lay, spread out on the sleeping bag, panting.

Then she felt a cold breath over her pussy, and a ghostly tongue began lapping at her exposed flesh.

“Oh,” she gasped “Your tongue is so cold.” But she still found herself tilting her hips against the ghostly mouth. The ghost’s tongue plunged inside her before it returned its attention to her clit.

The sensation of hands touching her tits returned, and she could see her breasts moving being kneaded and her nipples being pulled and stretched. The strangeness and the utterly wanton way her body was manipulated and moving with seemingly no one touching her had Jill ready to orgasm again.

Hands grabbed her hips, lifting her lower body. Jill lay partially suspended in the air and her legs fell wide open. The position left her with little ability to move, but that seemed to be what the ghost wanted, as its cold mouth closed over her clit. The shocking cold and suction were electric. Jill moaned, “Yes, yes, yes.” And as Jill’s orgasm tore through her, the ghostly mouth vanished.        

As her pussy spasmed in orgasm, the ghost thrust its cock into her. Suspended and its cock was the only thing she could feel – no legs, no hands, just a cold cock sliding into her. It pounded into her, clearly seeking its pleasure.

Jill gave herself over to the sensations, as the ghostly hands moved re-positioned her, caressed and teased her. Sometimes she recalled floating as the hands held her, entered her – She lost track of how many times she was taken by the ghosts. She wasn’t even sure if it was the same two ghosts. Eventually, just before dawn, they left her, sticky with ectoplasm and exhausted beyond measure.    

When she woke up the next morning, naked and sore, she wondered if she’d dreamed then entire night. It seemed too impossible to be real. She was naked and her skin was covered in stiff patches of glittering something.

When she replayed the recording, her camera had caught every depraved detail of her with her ghostly lovers. She may not have been able to see them, but the camera caught them as pale shadows sliding over and into her body.

As she watched the recording, she wondered how much she should edit before submitting it as her audience. Up to the part where she took off her clothes? But it was only after she was topless that the ghosts, pale shadows became visible. The idea of someone else watching her with her invisible lovers, had her squirming with desire.   

As she watched and paused and rewound, she slipped her fingers between her thighs and rubbed her clit until she came again.

Another Investigation

Jill checked her lipstick and gave her red hair a quick pat before stepping in front of the camera. 

“Tonight, the team and I will be staying in what has been called the most haunted house in America” she continued the spiel about the place, ending by feigning a look of fear. “The team and I will be seeing what happens when we stay the night.” 

The house had already been wired with cameras and audio, but Jill and her ghost hunting team would haul in some handheld cameras and EMF meters while the real camera crew filmed them.  After a couple of takes, the real camera crew left to shoot exteriors and establishing shots. 

Jill, Lara, and Holly dropped the prop gear and looked around the house’s great room. After arriving at the location and starting filming, everyone was simply too tired to do more. The real filming and exploring would start the following day.

Jill said her goodnights and headed up to her room. She was surprised to see how well maintained the house was. Most sites they visited were derelict. This place could almost be a hotel. And she wondered if that’s why the owners had contacted the show, haunted hotels were big business. After a few years of ghost hunting for the show, she had little expectation of there being any real ghosts. Rather she and the team would wear tight t-shirts and hug each other in fear, a lot. Lara would find something salacious in the history to talk about, probably with the cameraman finding a way to focus on her ass. And Holly would scream and run away, and the cameraman would focus the shot on her bouncing tits.   

Jill knew what the show wanted, but after her first ghost hunt, the one she used as her audition, she stayed with the show. She longed to find a haunted house like her first, to repeat that experience.  

Tonight, Jill stripped out of her clothes and crawled naked into bed, grateful that they had bedrooms rather than shared trailers like the last place.  She’d expected to fall asleep immediately but found herself tossing and turning. 

A cool breeze flowed over her, under the blanket causing her to bolt up in bed.  She looked down and saw that she was completely covered by the blanket, at least her lower body was. Her breasts were exposed, and she felt the breeze seem to caress her chest. Her nipples tightened and Jill shivered. The breeze had her aroused, and she giggled quietly as she slid her hand under the blanket. She trailed her fingers over her belly and through her soft pubic hair before finding her damp pussy. 

She sighed softly as she began rubbing her clit. Jill spread her legs a little wider, enjoying the feel of the sheets against her legs. Then she felt the fingers on her breast. 

At first, she didn’t make the connection, but her fingers once busy between her legs stopped moving as her brain fought through the fog of desire. Someone was touching her breast; at least it felt like someone was running their fingers over her skin. 

She tried to sit up, but she felt hands gently push her back down. And then she felt the month on her nipple. She watched her nipple pulled up and felt her breast stretch, but there was no one there. Jill lay frozen. Her other nipple began getting the same treatment, the sensation of a mouth, and in this case a gentle sucking and lapping at her nipple. She watched her breasts dimple and bulge as unseen hands kneaded her flesh.

She let out a low moan; she hadn’t expected an actual haunting. When a ghostly hand trailed down to her sopping pussy, her mind was made up. “Oh yes,” she whispered to the spirits.

The blanket slid off of her, leaving her naked on the bed.  She briefly wondered about the camera in her room. As far as she knew, the crew never turned them on during the first night. If they did, they’d get an eyeful for sure. She glanced at the camera, looking for any sign that it was on. When the ghosts increased their attention on her tits, she lost focus on the camera. She writhed on the bed, fascinated by her breasts, as they moved and responded to the invisible mouths.

She bit her lip, not wanting to call attention to her activities.  She felt fingers sliding into her pussy and listened to the wet squelching as the unseen hand began fucking her.  She started returned her hand to her clit, rubbing in soft circles as the fingers continued to thrust inside her. “Come on and fuck me,” she panted at the ghosts. 

The hand drew away from her pussy, and she felt the solid pressure of a cock pressing into her. She gave a soft whimper, spreading her legs wider, even if she didn’t need to.  The ghost could have entered her if she had her legs clamped shut, but she wanted to watch everything.  She tilted her hips just enough so she could see her splayed open pussy in the mirror.  She gasped watching her pussy being stretched by the invisible cock. “Oh god, that’s hot,” she whispered watching herself.

She started rubbing her clit again. “Make it hurt” she moaned into the room, “make it rough.” And felt the mouths on her nipples start biting, and fingernails scrap over her inner thighs. The cock started fucking her faster and deeper.  “Yes, just… like that” she gasped around her orgasm.  She felt herself shuddering as she came, and the ghosts were unceasing in their attentions.  She knew, depending on the type of haunting, the spirits could go for hours.

She lay back and felt the ghostly cock pull out of her pussy, and she watched the splash of shimmering ectoplasm spill over her belly.  It dripped down her ribs, and she ran a hand through the slick, shimmer.  “Is that all you got?” she hissed at the ghosts, knowing that once the ghost expelled its ectoplasm, it would be out of energy for hours, possibly days.

She smiled as another ghost flipped her over.  She landed on her belly and felt her hips jerked up. She was disappointed that she couldn’t watch anymore, but it was assuaged by another ghost cock pressing into her pussy.

Once again, she begged and cajoled the ghosts to give her what she wanted. She thought again about the camera, wondering if it was recording her with her ass in the air and her pussy stretched open by an invisible cock. She felt the cold splash of ectoplasm on her back.

She sagged onto the bed, wondering if there were any ghosts left. The ectoplasm dripped down her back and over her ribs, while she remained on her hands and knees, panting.   

When she didn’t feel any more ghostly presences, she let herself lay down on the bed. She considered finding something to wipe the ectoplasm away, but she knew that it would evaporate quickly enough, and she was exhausted.

Before she closed her eyes, she looked at the black lens of the camera and saw the small red light glowing. Someone had turned on the camera, and she wondered who on the crew had watched her with the ghosts. She’d find out tomorrow, and she’d get a copy for herself.

Satisfied, she drifted off into contented sleep.  

Lara’s Experience in the Most Haunted House in America

Lara had curled up in bed with a book about the history of the area. The show didn’t want them to research the history of the locations they visited, but Lara didn’t care. Besides she knew they’d hired her for her ass more than her degree in history.

She wasn’t surprised to learn the area had a long history in piracy.  It was common enough in these small, coastal towns. She paged through the book, skimming more than delving deeply as the showrunners would give her a script.  Although piracy would make a great angle for the haunting, maybe make them into Robin Hood figures or perhaps a vindication of a lost lover.    

Lara set the book aside, thinking about a pirate lover or two. She pictured a group of men, all muscular and sun-bronzed in open-throated shirts and tight trousers. They’d be hungry for attention after being at sea for so long. She shivered a little, imaging being at the center of all that lustful attention. She smiled picturing herself in one of those movie-style bodices with her breasts threatening to spill out. “Oh, you rogues,” she imaged saying to the pirates, “How dare you look at me with such lust.”

Then she felt the fingers, the cool brush of ghostly hands on her body. Her smile deepened. This was the reason she kept the job, the occasional real hauntings.  The ghosts were as hungry for human contact as her fantasy pirates. The ghosts slid the blanket from her body, revealing her naked flesh. “Hello sailor,” she whispered, still thinking about her pirates. The ghostly hands closed around her wrists and pulled her hands over her head, while other fingers wrapped around her ankles, pulling her legs wide open. “Oh yes,” she murmured, feeling herself getting wet. Her nipples were already hard in the cool air, and the cold breath of the ghosts only made them ache. 

She watched in fascination as she felt two different mouths close around her nipples. Her nipples narrowed and lengthened as each mouth sucked, but of course, she couldn’t see them, only watch and feel. She gave herself over to the sensation, the ghosts suckling and biting at her nipples while she writhed and moaned. The teasing of her nipples was a direct line to her pussy, which was tingling in need. When one of the ghosts bit hard enough to leave visible teeth marks, Lara groaned and begged for more. Her words seemed to be all they needed.

They bit her flesh, leaving bruises and drawing blood from her thigh. Still, the hands held her fast, her arms above her head and her still ignored pussy spread open and dripping wet.  

She twisted in their grasp, not to escape but to participate. Yet they held her too tightly. Their mouths continued to explore her, biting and sucking on her flesh. She groaned when one of them finally turned his attention to her pussy. He sucked her labia into his mouth, his teeth scraping over the folds. 

“More, please” she begged the ghosts. She heard the whisper of voices, “wench needs a hard cock,” and “her pussy is sopping.” 

When the ghost finally started tonguing her clit, she was ready to come. She panted her desire, “don’t stop; please don’t stop.”

The mouth sucking on her clit continued, and she felt a finger slip into her pussy. The ghostly mouths returned to her nipples, biting and tugging.  It pushed Lara over the edge and had her shaking with orgasm. Her begging words continued to spill from her mouth.  

She didn’t have a chance to catch her breath before the first cock was pressing inside. She urged the ghost on, her words becoming more vulgar and the ghosts rougher. She felt the cold burst of the ghost’s ectoplasm as he came.  She moaned anticipating the ghosts’ next actions.

But as she felt the ghost’s cock slip from her, the hands holding her vanished.  She lay on the bed, alone. Lara let out a frustrated snarl.  Ghosts were so unreliable.   

She called to the ghosts but remained frustratingly alone. With an annoyed sigh, she rolled over and grabbed her overnight bag from beside her bed. She dug through the bag and found her vibrator. It wouldn’t be as good as the ghosts, but it would serve.  

Goosed by a Ghost: Holly’s Introduction to the Spirit World

I had a free evening in my new town, so I decided to take the historic cemetery tour.  When I arrived, I found the tour guide, a beautiful young man, in a frock coat and top hat lounged against the graveyard gate talking passionately with a small group of tourists.

We began the tour, focusing on the history and 300-year-old gossip of the more infamous residents of the cemetery. As we paused in front of a mausoleum, I felt my skirt twitch.  I looked back, wondering if I’d caught it on a shrub or on some of the wrought iron scrollwork that liberally filled the place.  But there was nothing there.  There wasn’t even a breeze that could be responsible for the feeling.  I brushed it off, engrossed in the tale of the rich, second son turned privateer turned pirate. I enjoyed the patter of the guide’s stories; even though I suspected, like most of these tours, that many of the stories were cut from whole cloth.

The tour guide reached the climax of the tale, the young pirate’s violent death at the hands of his jealous older brother, and I felt it again, the twitch of my skirt, and a cold breeze between my thighs.  I jerked and looked behind me again.  The tour guide noticed my look, “My lady, is one of our ghosts calling to you?”

I gave a weak laugh, but his suggestion didn’t seem too far-fetched.  I thought about the pirate captain, my mind making him look like the tour guide.  I mentally replaced his trousers with super tight pants and knee-high black boots.  His top hat morphed into a movie-style pirate hat.  I considered an eye patch and had to stop when I tripped over a tree root.  The tour guide looked back concerned, and I gave a blushing shrug.  I reminded myself that he couldn’t read my mind, so he had no idea of his role in my pirate fantasy.

We continued through the mausoleums, moving on to other stories other graves.  Once again, I felt a cold breeze wrap around my calves, and what felt like cold fingers brush behind my knees.  I shivered.  My skirt flared, and I felt another breeze reaching my upper thighs.  The weather wasn’t helping me keep my thoughts on the tour.  In the fantasy reel in my head, the pirate captain was meeting his lover (played by me) in the cemetery.  Under the cover of darkness, we would meet and declare our undying love… and put our love into action as well.  There was literal bodice ripping going on in my head.

I was in the middle of the fantasy of my pirate lover setting me atop one of the taller gravestones and stepping between my thighs when I realized that we had reached the end of the tour. The tour guide invited up to wander around in the final section of colonial graves. I wandered, only half reading the names and dates, once again feeling the breeze slip under my skirt, teasing my overheated pussy.  I blushed, but no one else seemed to notice anything.

I paused in front of a tall headstone, much like the one in my fantasy.  I envisioned myself bodice torn open, breasts exposed to the evening air.  I imagined my skirts piled into my lap, and dark woolen stockings reaching just over my knees on display.  I wasn’t sure what sort of undergarments colonial people wore, so I assumed that if I was meeting an illicit lover, I’d go bare under my skirts. My pirate lover stepped between my widespread thighs.  And I felt the cold, phantom hands caressing me. I stifled cry, but this time I didn’t move.  The touch was fleeting, and certainly not enough to satisfy me. But I like to think perhaps the pirate captain knew what I was thinking and it satisfied him.