Phantom Lust (Paranormal Erotica)

by Folia Deux

  He didn’t answer her. She heard the spigots turn off by themselves. The phantom slipped himself out of her pussy and Sienna found herself already missing having him deep inside her. Only her own liquid essence dripped from her. She marveled at the impossibility of it all as he rose above her, hovering, his magnificent cock still hard and wanting her. He gazed over her body as if worshiping her from above.

  The phantom didn’t hover for long. He dipped his head down towards her chest, his tongue taking a long, slow lick around her rosebud nipple, which hardened and puckered from the attention. Sienna closed her eyes and grunted in pleasure. God, she loved having her tits licked like that.

  I know you like that. I also know something else you’ll like.

  “What?”

  Patience. I’ll show you soon.

  Sienna found herself being pulled out, dripping wet, by his transparent hands. A towel floated to her and she dried herself quickly, and all the while she stared at the ghostly man. He looked her age and was just over six feet tall, with cut cheekbones and a crooked smiling mouth.

  Before she could take a better look at the magnificent cock that had just brought her to rapture, he seemed to fade out and blur. In a wink he was gone again.

  “Where did you go?”

  I’m still here. Being with you made me corporeal, just for a little while. This is the effect you have on me.

  “So if I want to see you again...” Sienna didn’t want to say it out loud, but her pussy suddenly grew wet with desire. She wanted that dick inside her again, ramming her with that rhythm that she already missed. Seeing him with her eyes was just a perk.

  As if responding to the heat of her body, she felt his hand clasp hers and lead her to the bedroom. The four-poster bed stood there with the gossamer panels fluttering, inviting her in. Without asking for another invitation, she crawled onto the deep, plush bedding and lay coyly down.

  “Is this what you do to everyone who comes to house sit?”

  Not all. But you, I knew I had to have you as soon as you called.

  Sienna shivered at the thought that this ghost had wanted to fuck her since that static-filled phone call yesterday, and this morning. She hadn’t even spoken, and somehow he knew how much she needed this. Is this what had happened to Myra? Damn, she wished she’d asked her more that night in the club!

  She saw the bedding press down where he began to crawl to her. With a hissing tear, the gauzy fabric of the canopy bed panels tore into strips, gliding over to her and quickly wrapping themselves around her wrists and ankles. Sienna whimpered in fear as they bound her to the four posts of the bed—tightly imprisoned, set up to be ravished.

  Her Tiffany heart pendant floated above her satiny throat. She knew the ghost was studying it, turning it in his phantom fingers. As the silver chain tugged against her neck, she shook her head.

  “Please. Don’t take that off.”

  The pendent dropped unceremoniously back onto her chest. For a second, Sienna thought she’d hurt his feelings and had left, but then out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small glass vial float out of the bathroom. It looked like an expensive crystal perfume container and hovered over her naked body. The stopper came loose and the bottle tipped, pouring a thin, fragrant stream of oil that landed in lacy swirls over her breasts before dripping in a line down to her pussy, where the silky liquid slid down her warm, open slit.

  Invisible fingers touched her firm tits, rubbing the oil all over her mounds and stroking her nipples, circling and teasing. Sienna began to toss her head back and forth, wanting what she knew was coming. She felt one of his oiled hands leave her breast and trail slowly down to her bare, silky pussy, so sensitive after the bathtub experience.

  Do you want this?

  “Yes, god, yes.” Sienna couldn’t believe this. Only an hour ago, she had no job, no apartment, no boyfriend, no money. And here she was, tied down to the bed, her cunt open and oiled, waiting to be ridden hard again.

  Not yet. First, this.

  A single fingertip trailed over her mound, sending delicious shivers deep into her core, making her asshole tighten with anticipation. The finger left her for a brief moment, and then—as if dabbling a finger in a bowl of icing—dipped into her oily cleft.

  The phantom rolled her clit like a marble beneath his finger, its other hand releasing her erect nipple to plunge a finger into her wet, tight pussy while another finger pressed at her ruched asshole.

  Sienna gasped with surprise. It was everything all at once, after so many months of not enough of anything with Alan. The slippery rubbing of her ass, the finger fucking her slickly, her clit swollen under his rolling fingertips.

  And all the while, she pulled and struggled against her bonds, but there was no release possible. She was forced to enjoy the thrill of every single sensation. She arched her back as far as she was allowed, her nipples taut and pointed to the ceiling.

  When she thought her mind would explode from the overwhelming sensory overload on her cunt, the ghost’s slippery, seeking, unseen hands took her to the crest of pure bliss. As the orgasm rocked her body, making her pull convulsively at her bonds, she shrieked with release.

  She breathed fast like a rabbit, breasts heaving and body still on fire in the aftermath. Her eyes opened, and once again the phantom became faintly visible. His dick was still perfectly erect and pointed straight at her, and as soon as she craved filling her throat with cock, he’d crawled over her, splaying his white thighs on either side of her head.

  Take it, he said, his voice rough and hoarse.

  Sienna’s pink lips opened and the head of his cock—firm and real, but transparent—entered her mouth, pushing to the back of her throat and making her gag. She vaguely tasted salt this time, like a mist on the ocean. Was he becoming more real, if she could taste him now? She relaxed her muscles, closing her eyes and squeezing tears sideways onto her cheeks. God, she wanted this so bad, wanted to take him as fully as she could. She felt his firm head sliding down her throat as he thrust deliciously into her mouth.

  She wished she was untied, so she could feel him, to prove this was real. So she could grab him, hold him, own him.

  Not yet.

  He withdrew his cock from her mouth, dripping with saliva. It was beautiful, and right now, he seemed more like a man made of marble then wispy nothingness.

  It’s you. You make me more real.

  He slithered back down over her body, kneeling between her helplessly splayed-open thighs. She sobbed with desire, and he waited, keeping his pulsating cock only an inch from her wet, wide-open cunt. Only he took the slick head and rubbed it in circles around her deliriously throbbing clit, did she finally beg again.

  “Please. I want to feel you in me.”

  The phantom’s marble white body hovered over her and his ice blue eyes stared her down. Still, his dick massaged her wet slit, sliding from asshole to clit, driving her insane with pleasure.

  And how do you want it?

  “I want it brutal,” she whispered. “Please.”

  His ghostly cock slid back to circle her clit once more before entering her, sliding deep into her to the very hilt. Sienna arched her back and groaned as he pulled out, her juices dripping and coating him completely.

  You’re so tight. So perfect, he grunted. The phantom hovered huge and white above her, his eyes almost glowing electrically as he thrust into her perfect, tight pussy. He was slow at first, as if savoring every delectable second. He bucked into her like an animal rutting, and Sienna, tied up as she was, tried to meet every jerk, her desire a white-hot fire, impossible to extinguish.

  His cock pushed hard against her g-spot, and he grasped her hips and lifted them as far as the bonds would allow. Tied and restrained, Sienna could do nothing but take the brutal, exquisite pounding. The rhythm increased to a fever pitch until the phantom roared his pleasure, a hot electric liquid spurting inside of her. Sienna’s orgasm followed only seconds later as he spasmed inside her.

  He fell o
ver her, and Sienna found it strange that he had real weight to his marbled body. She panted, feeling her sweaty breasts pressed by his hard, broad chest. He reached to untie her wrists, then pushed off to undo her ankle bonds.

  Sienna curled onto her side as the phantom spooned her backside.

  “How is this possible? Am I dreaming? Did I get drugged or something?” she asked, afraid of the answer. His answer filled her mind with the dulcet tones of a recently satisfied lover.

  It’s real. I don’t know how I how or why, but I’ve haunted this house for years, looking.

  “Looking for what?”

  For you. For a woman who would bring me back to life with her body, if she was willing to give herself over to me without any fear, without wanting anything in return.

  Sienna bit her lip and went crimson, suddenly ashamed. “But you paid me...”

  Not for sex. The other girls who have come for the position, they never stopped thinking of the money. They’d ask for more. They wanted more than just me. But you? You stopped thinking about that money the second I touched you. That’s how I knew. You need me as much as I need you.

  Sienna knew he was right. She turned around to stare at his face, the lips that smiled only for her and the translucent arms that held her solidly, though they looked anything but.

  “What now?” she asked, with a glow of desire in her eye. She was already ready to go again.

  Chapter Four

  He was as insatiable as she was. They only stopped long enough so Sienna could eat (the pizza delivery boy leered at her when she answered the door wrapped in a thin bed sheet, her recently-sucked nipples a vibrant hot pink through the thin material). And they stopped so she could rest her exhausted body. She was sore, but wonderfully so. She never felt so alive.

  And the same went for the ghost. He grew more and more visible with every orgasm they shared. But the more real he became, the less sure Sienna was about everything.

  What day was it? How long had she been here? When she bathed and gazed at her scrubbed-clean face in the mirror, she stared back with confusion. She hardly recognized herself, pretty as she was. What was happening to her memory?

  But Sienna couldn’t quite put a finger on what was wrong.

  “Did you say something about a finger?” the phantom teased. She now heard his voice the way she heard a normal, human voice, not inside her head. When did that happen? She couldn’t quite remember.

  She was looking through the framed photos on the mantle above the fireplace as he leaned into her from behind. His hand caressed her outer thighs and she hoped it would make its way to the parts of her that were now covered in a beautiful set of antique lingerie she’d found in one of the closets.

  A gauzy, lacy slip covered her round breasts and fluttered down around her thighs, but it was so open in the front it hardly seemed like she was wearing anything. A pair of flimsy lace panties barely concealed her pussy. One tiny tug, and it would be out in the open for just the right ghostly tongue to take a lick.

  The phantom’s tongue found the crook of her neck, sliding up and slithering into her ear. She felt wetness there. The first time they’d fucked, he’d left no trace of himself in her. But now, it was different. Why? She absently touched her wet ear, but he took her wrist and held it behind her.

  “You are too curious. It’s not good for you.”

  “Not good for me,” she repeated, trying to clear her fuzzy head. “Wait...what day is it? Where’s my phone?” she said, looking around the room. It was lying on the broad, carved mahogany desk behind her. Was it dead? When was the last time she charged it? A week ago?

  “Yes, this is what’s good for you. Never mind the phone.” His tongue slid down her neck as his searching fingers found her nipples, playing with them and making them harden beneath the tickling lace.

  His hands skimmed her thighs and hooked the edges of her panties, sliding them down. Sienna tried to concentrate on the photograph on the mantel in front of her. She’d seen it before when she’d first arrived. But now the laughing, devilishly handsome man in the suit was so terribly faded, as if someone had taken an eraser and tried to rub him out of existence. She could hardly see his face anymore.

  The ghost’s tongue continued trailing down and now her panties were around her ankles. He bent her forward so her pussy peeked out between the globes of her ass. He thrust his wet tongue against her asshole, licking firm circles and forcing it in just as his other hand went between her legs and found her nub, the wet desire already spreading to her thighs.

  Sienna clasped the mantel, moaning. She tried to hold herself up on legs that trembled from that probing tongue, those fingers that knew exactly how to stroke her. They knew her better than she knew herself.

  “Wait, wait,” she panted. “My phone. I think I was going to...check my phone. Or something.”

  He stopped licking her, only to growl seductively, “You don’t need anything but this.” He pulled her hips back towards his face as his tongue slipped right into her pussy, milking her desire with every stroke. God, no other person had ever tongued like this before and his was built for it—impossibly long, powerful, and never ever tired. It slipped in and out, her cunt oozing with wet desire all over his face. He withdrew his tongue only long enough to lap at her clit, circle it until she cried out with pleasure, before tongue-fucking her again.

  Sienna grunted, panted, and moaned. Her eyes opened just long enough to see the photograph of the man, fading even as her orgasm came closer.

  “No, wait. I have to make a call. I need...I have to do something,” she said drunkenly, as if she’d swallowed five margaritas in a row. Except—she hadn’t had a single alcoholic drink since before she came to this house.

  This house. This ghost. What had become of her?

  She let go of the mantelpiece and pushed the phantom roughly away. She spun around to see her slick desire covering his sensual mouth. Sienna blinked hard. He was absolutely stunning. No longer see through, he seemed solid but still with a decidedly whitish cast to him. He wasn’t flesh colored. Not yet.

  She abandoned her soaked panties on the floor where they’d fallen around her feet and stumbled woozily to the desk where her phone lay. She turned it on and saw the date. October 31st.

  It was Halloween. She’d been at the house for over two weeks. What the fuck?

  “I need to call someone,” she said, stubbornly.

  “Who? Alan? His dick doesn’t deserve what it lost.” The phantom’s voice was acid and Sienna cringed. He pressed behind her, his hand firmly around her wrists. One of them led her hand holding the phone back to the top of the desk. It squeezed her flesh tightly enough that she was forced to drop the phone. It winked off, the battery finally dead. “This is what you need.”

  “This isn’t real!”

  Sienna was pushed over the top of the desk, her ass up and out, the ghost kicking her ankles apart so her pussy was ready to be taken.

  “You tell me this isn’t real, but it’s more real than what you’ve ever had before. Still, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want,” he whispered as he took his dick—hot, thick, firm—and rubbed it up and down her slick folds. Against her better judgment to stop and figure out how to clear her mind, she moaned and pushed her hips closer to him. God, she loved it. She loved how he knew exactly how to make her body light on fire. She was an addict, wanting it more than any good judgment might say otherwise.

  His cock had never been warm before, just firm and hard, but now it was hot. Throbbing, like real life and real blood filled it to a stiffness that wouldn’t be denied. The smooth head covered itself in her pussy juices, rolling over her asshole, pressing a warning there, then rubbing its length against her clit and slit, back and forth, teasing her. Torturing her.

  “Beg for it.” Something in his voice changed. He wasn’t taunting her, or teasing her. He was was the one begging her.

  Her mind reeled. Her tits were pressed against the wood top of the desk and in the mir
rored French doors that led from this room to the library, she saw herself. Draped over the desk, her wrists held behind her by the ghost that was almost a real man, almost perfection. She saw her hips angled up, waiting and wanting. She saw her ankles spread far apart as he rubbed himself against her.

  That’s when she knew.

  He had to ask her permission to fuck her. Every time, countless as they were, had only gone beyond this point when she begged him to ride her, brutally fuck her the way she liked it.

  He wouldn’t finish it unless she begged. Something clicked in her head and the balance of power edged in her favor. She’d become an addict in this house. He was just like a drug, making her forget who she was, why she was here. He was no longer haunting the house; he was haunting her. She would be his slave forever in this house, if she didn’t do something.

  He rocked against her ass, his cock teasing her clit again. She shut her eyes, trying to think but unable to get past the slippery swirling of her nub, which had become a tiny, erect, slippery pebble under the hot length of his shaft.

  One last time—and that was it, she promised herself. She had to clear her mind, somehow.

  “Fuck me. Like an animal.” What Sienna didn’t say out loud was Fuck me like it’s the last time.

  It was all he needed. He drew back away from her so he could position his cock right at her opening. She tensed her body, ready, as he slammed into her. He filled her almost beyond her max, making her cry out with pleasure. He took hold of her hips and rhythmically pumped into her, matching her squeals of pleasure with groans. He held nothing back, fucking her so fiercely, his sac slapping her cunt with every thrust forward.

  He grunted through clenched teeth as one of his hands snaked around to roll her clit under his fingers, circling endlessly as he slammed into her. His hands were so tight on her she could feel bruises starting to form.

  Her orgasm was nearing rapidly, but before she could see it through, he withdrew and roughly flipped her over so she lay on the desk. He yanked her legs so her ankles rested on his broad, muscular shoulders. She saw his face flush with feverish desire, ruddiness, and a real color that had never been there before. And his hair—his hair! For the first time it wasn’t white, but had a faint sheen of gold.