Puppet Masters
A Ghost Sex Story
by Alice J. Woods
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form
or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
Copyright © 2013 by Alchemy House Press
Not everyone believes in love at first sight, but I do. Max and I fell in love pretty much the first time we met, in the choir loft at St. James Church, on the corner of Bedford and Livingston.
I think it was fate that brought us together; we both had our funeral services at that church. Neither of us had been very religious when we were alive and hadn’t attended very many services there, but both our families belonged to St. James, and both of them decided to have our services at the church.
St. James isn’t the first place I remember after the accident though; I remember looking down at my body in the street, at the intersection of Main and Maple, the driver of car that hit me standing over me, hysterical as he waited for what seemed like an eternity for the police and ambulance to show up, not knowing what to do with so much blood. I felt sorry for him, I wanted to tell him I’d walked in front of him on purpose, but of course, I was already dead.
I’d chosen death over the crushing loneliness of being alive, only to find there’s the potential for just as much loneliness after death.
Anyway, the church was a peaceful enough place, and I could see my mom again, at least on Sundays. I wasn’t religious, like I said, but I hoped someday, if I spent enough time here, by some miracle I’d get to go to whatever place I was supposed to go to that was hopefully better than this.
Max came to the church simply because he’d lived close by. After he’d died, from a brain aneurysm, he started returning to the apartment he’d shared with his girlfriend, Corey. He’d missed her terribly and actually thought he’d made some kind of contact with her, that she could sense him somehow.
But then he’d come back one night to find her in bed with some other guy and even as a spirit, he could see the handwriting on the wall; he’d been replaced by someone who was alive.
We usually sat in the abandoned choir loft, tucked behind a large pillar up in the rafters of the church. It was peaceful and we didn’t come in contact with too many parishioners. There were some who could sense us and it bothered them, and that bothered us. So we took sanctuary in the old choir loft.
Max seemed to understand me like no one else. We’d been inseparable now for several weeks, talking constantly, learning everything about each other. It was pretty clear to both of us that we’d fallen in love. It was comforting to have someone else in this strange place, between our past life and whatever was next.
But we soon discovered there was one major drawback to being deeply in love in the afterlife: there is no sex. It was hardest for Max; he’d had a relationship, missed the feeling of falling asleep holding someone he loved and was apparently suffering from prolonged withdrawal symptoms from lack of sex. He admitted to being a stud when he was alive. He also said he missed the alternative to sex with someone: masturbation. Even that simple way to release his sexual tension was beyond his reach. Sometimes being a spirit really sucked, he said.
I’d been alone most of my adult life, so no sex for me was the norm. But I felt such an attraction to Max, to his spirit…no pun intended. He was funny and kind and most of all, he loved me for just being me.
We were sitting in the church one day, the empty pews stretching out below us. Max had been trying to move the hymnals from their holders in the backs of the pews. There were hymnals scattered all over the floor below us. The resounding thump as another one fell told me Max was still practicing.
“Delia, I have an idea. Don’t freak out on me. Okay? Keep an open mind.” Another hymnal hit the floor. I sighed.
“Max, I have an open mind. What’s your idea?” I was hoping he didn’t want to try moving the candles holders on the altar. I didn’t like it when Max moved things on the altar.
“Well, you know how we’ve been having this issue with sex? Or how we have this issue with not having sex?” Thump.
“Yeah, I’m well aware we’re not having sex.” Thump. “Max, stop with the hymnals for a minute.”
“Okay, okay. Anyway, here’s the thing. When I was still seeing Corey—after I was dead, I mean—I told you there was one night when I swear she knew I was there, that she could feel me, like she knew I was hot for her and wanted her. She got all squirmy and breathy like she did when I was alive.”
“Where are you going with this, Max?” Granted we had all the time in the afterlife for Max’s ramblings but I was fidgety today.
“I’m getting there, be patient. So, with the hymnals, I’m practicing moving them, right?”
“Right…” I was totally lost now.
“Okay. So if we put all that together…”
“Max…”
“I think we can get into people’s bodies and borrow them to have sex.” I could hear the triumph in his voice, like he’d discovered the secret to the universe or gotten a new toy.
“Max, that’s wrong. You can’t just manipulate random people for your own pleasure. That’s kind of creepy and, well...it’s just creepy.”
Max had tried to teach me to move things, like the hymnals in the church, but I couldn’t quite get the hang of it. He thought maybe getting inside someone’s body—which I still found vaguely icky—might be easier. He didn’t know why, but he just thought it might be.
“Not random people, Delia, couples, people who are already having sex with each other, who love each other...like married couples.”
I laughed. “You think all married couples are still having sex?”
“Well, maybe not some old couple, but…well, like a just married couple, newlyweds. Like the ones who get married here. I bet they’re all over each other.”
I thought about this. There was something intriguing about Max’s idea, although I wasn’t quite sure we could actually—what was the word?—was there a word for this?—borrow people to have sex. But Max was persistent. He wanted to try it with the next couple that got married at St. James.
“All we need to do is follow them back to wherever they go after the wedding.”
“Max, they go to have pictures taken, then they go to the reception, then they go on a honeymoon. Do you want to follow them around until they get to some tropical island before they have time to make love?”
“Delia, are you even interested in this? Or do you just want to shoot down my suggestion?”
I sighed. I’d been sighing a lot in the afterlife. “No, I’m not just trying to shoot down your suggestion. I’m trying to look at this from all sides and see how it will work. This is how I work through problems.”
“Okay. Well, let’s do this then. Let’s go find Corey and her new boyfriend and try it with them.”
“Max, no. That would be you having sex with your old girlfriend and me having sex with her new boyfriend. No deal on using someone you used to date.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think of that. You’re right.” We were silent for a long time. Until the hymnals started hitting the floor again.
“Okay, Max. You win. We’ll look for someone tonight, a couple in a bar maybe. If we watch them we should be able to figure out how well they know each other, things like that. If they seem compatible, I guess.”
We left the church about sometime after midnight. As with most big cities, there was a bar on the corner across from the church. Max knew the place; he decided there’d be the r
ight kind of couples to pick from there.
“What kind is the “right” kind of couple, Max?”
“Well, Delia, do you want to have sex with someone who’s good looking, like Channing Tatum—or me, you know, before—or do you want to have sex with some fat old guy? I’m not interested in having sex with an old woman. I want to have sex with someone I think you look like and I think you look young and hot and sexy.”
Max had a way with words sometimes.
The place wasn’t really crowded. There were a couple of single guys at the bar, creeping on the few single girls who’d wandered in, but the rest of the customers were couples. Max was right.
We figured out pretty quickly the back booths were where couples who wanted a little privacy gravitated. There were a few we thought had potential, Max judging solely by how close they sat together in the booth and me judging by how much they laughed together.
One of the girls had long dark hair, like I have—had—and was about my height. I had it in my mind Max could at least get an idea of what I looked like if I picked a girl who had something in common with me. All I knew about Max was he had blonde hair. Strangely, what we looked like alive was one thing we’d never really talked about. I pointed them out to Max.
“Yeah, Delia, I like them. What do you think? Let’s follow them home.”
“Do you like ‘them’ or do you like her?” I felt a surprising stab of jealousy.
“Delia, l love you. I meant they looked like they’re together, maybe in love, and it would be less creepy for you, and probably them, if they’re comfortable with each other. If you don’t like them, we can find someone else.”
Max was right; they did look happy together and if they weren’t in love, they at least appeared to like each other a lot.
“Yeah, okay. They’ll be fine.”
They lived close by…everyone seems to live close to the bar they go to most often. They had a small walk-up apartment they obviously shared. I was wondering if we’d end up spending any time watching television or movies with them until they went to bed. But they went straight to the bedroom and apparently had the same idea we did; they started kissing as he started unbuttoning her shirt and she worked at the snap on his jeans.
Part of me wanted to look away; this was really private stuff. But part of me was completely turned on, as much as I could be as a spirit, by watching something so intimate.
“Delia? Did you hear me? I think we should do whatever it is we’re supposed to do now, before they get too far along. You think?” Either Max was as excited as I was or he really did have a point. Maybe it would be less jarring if we started at the beginning rather than interrupted them later.
“Yeah, okay. What do I do?” Suddenly I was nervous.
“It’s like the hymnals, only different. Try to be open to their their minds more than their bodies at first….hard to explain…I’ve got him…and…oh, wow….Delia.” Max’s voice faded away, replaced by the blonde guy talking. “I’m here.”
“Of course you’re here, Dave, where else would you be?” The dark-haired girl looked up at ‘Dave’. “You okay, babe? You look a little funny.”
“Um, no…I’m just…fine. Little too much to drink maybe.” He looked around the room and I knew it was Max in there looking for me.
I tried to let go of anything I was thinking, of the tension I felt…if I could I would have closed my eyes. I sensed other ‘things’ in the room then, not only me and Max and the girl, and some residual bits of Dave…but something—things—from outside the apartment.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with spirits: humans, dogs, cats—a parrot—I was an open door. Or more like I’d opened the door and they all came rushing in. I’d almost go back to flinging hymnals if this was how it was going to be.
I finally waded through the non-humans and anyone or thing not actually in the room with me and focused on the girl. With surprising ease I felt myself glide into her human form. There was a brief ‘snap’, like the focus suddenly got adjusted and everything was crystal clear. I had a body. And this body was made for...and aching for...sex.
“Oh. My. God. Max, this is incredible.” I threw my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body through our clothes, feeling his heart beating against my chest—against my breasts—as he hugged me back. I pulled away, looking down.
“Max, I have breasts!” I ran my hands up over my stomach and cupped what had to be double DDs in my hands, clutching and grasping at them. My body…my real body…had had a hard time filling a B cup bra, even on a good day. These were amazing. I knew it was shallow, but I wanted to see these, wanted to watch them bounce and sway. I shook my shoulders and they did just that...bounced and swayed in a really sexy way. I didn’t realize it was possible to get turned on by watching your own fully clothed breasts jiggle, but apparently for me it was.
Max was laughing, calmly undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “Delia, you’re a trip. You know, I did this so we could make love, not so you could have ‘private time’ with your breasts.” He reached out and finished undoing the buttons on my shirt, peeling it off my shoulders. The bra I was wearing was lacy and black, nothing like my familiar white cotton bras. I was mesmerized.
“Oh, Max, look. How gorgeous.” The fabric of the bra was so soft, so delicate, I wondered how it managed to keep her breasts restrained. One of my fingers brushed against a nipple; there was an immediate jolt in the pit of my stomach, something I’d never felt before. I did it again; again with the jolt. Oh, I could get used to this.
“Delia, you’re beautiful. I’ve always said so. And yes, those are very gorgeous breasts.” Max was still watching me, but looking a little less amused.
“Oh, the breasts…yeah. I really meant the bra. But these breasts are amazing.” I looked up at him and suddenly wanted his hands on my body, not my own. I reached out, taking his hands in mine and putting them on my breasts. I saw his eyes widen, heard him inhale sharply.
“Oh, Delia…I can finally touch you. Yeah, this is better than hymnals.” Max cupped my breasts—my breasts, I liked the sound of that—gently squeezing them in his hands. His breath got all raspy for a moment and his eyes sort of glazed over as he watched his hands touching and fondling me.
“Max...”
“Yeah?” came the dreamy reply.
“Max. Touch my nipples...Max, please.” I wanted to experience that stomach-contracting jolt again, but I wanted Max to make it happen.
“Oh, yeah, right. Like this?” He ran his thumbs across my nipples, and there it was again, that thud deep inside. Only with Max, it was ten times stronger, sending waves out all the way to my fingers. I shuddered under his touch.
“Oh, yeah. Oh, Max, this is wonderful.” I looked down at his hands cupping me, watched my nipples grow hard, poking against the lacy parts of the bra. I didn’t realize they did that; I’d apparently been missing out on a lot when I was alive. He moved his hands across so he could palm my nipples. The harder he pressed and rubbed, the bigger the sensation. I was breathing hard and could feel heat and wetness between my legs.
And then...he leaned down to kiss me.
I felt his lips on mine for the first time and almost melted. They were simultaneously soft and hard, caressing my mouth, sliding over me. I felt his tongue slip between my lips, gently flicking around in my mouth. I opened up to him, his tongue instantly probing, meeting mine, and asking it to dance. And they did, accompanied by our moans and sighs. They did the tango and a waltz and dub stepped; it was heaven.
Max started moving his body against mine, slowly rubbing his hips back and forth against my stomach, his hands still moving over my breasts. I could feel his erection pressing into me and I slid a hand down to cup him through his jeans. He groaned against my mouth. I gave an experimental rub and he groaned louder. Suddenly he pulled away from me, hands on my shoulders.
“Delia, you’re not a virgin, are you?” The look on his face was one of fear mixed with about eight other emotion
s, none of them good.
“No, Max. I’m not a virgin. I don’t have much experience, but I have had sex.” It wasn’t something I enjoyed admitting but we had always been honest with each other.
“Oh, good. I didn’t want to hurt you if I had to pop your cherry.” I doubled over with laughter. This girl had a really big laugh.
Max stood watching, his fearful look replaced by one of a total lack of understanding.
“What is it? What did I say?” He really didn’t get it. It’s one of the many things I love about him.
“Max…” I gasped out the words between gales of laughter. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a virgin, this isn’t my body. You wouldn’t be popping my cherry anyway. And I’m pretty sure this girl’s had sex before.”
Max managed to look sheepish and sexy all at the same time. “Oh, yeah…well, you know, anyone could make that mistake.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Can we get back to what we were doing?”
Puppet Masters: A Ghost Sex Story (Bizarre Erotica Stories) Page 1