Ghost Orgy!

Growing up I used to piss the bed a lot. That’s not a big deal. It’s really not. Mom used to tell me that pissing the bed a lot was something serial killers did but I think that she was just being a bitch. Although I have heard that fun fact from other sources too. But, still, I bet she was just being a bitch. I don’t even like the word “bitch” but when it comes to Mom sometimes it just seems like there’s no other word. Anyway, Mom died five years ago in a terrible accident involving a StairMaster and a bottle of mango flavored VitaminWater. She died in her house, a 19th century Victorian in New Jersey. Despite the fact that she was a total bitch, Mom left the house to me. My friends suggested I sell it.

“Why would you want to live in a house your mom died in?” They’d ask.

“She died in the house, Francis, let that sink in. That’s really upsetting.” They’d say.

“Francis, she didn’t just die in her bed peacefully. She was electrocuted and ripped to pieces by a rogue StairMaster after spilling a mango flavored VitaminWater into its power source. There was hardly anything left of her body. She was fried and shredded by the exercise machine. The floors of the house are stained with her blood. Her stench fills the house. You can’t move into that house, Francis.” They’d whine.

My friends are bitchy as well, now that I come to think of it.

Fuck my friends, I moved into the house. It was a big house for one person. Three floors and a basement. A huge yard. I was overwhelmed. How was I going to take care of this thing? Whatever. I had to prove my friends wrong. Of course, they had been right about the blood stained floors and Mom’s stench still lingering in the house, but that was mainly only an issue in the room she died in. The room she died in was, unfortunately, the master bedroom which I had to have as my bedroom since I was the master of the house now.

My first few weeks in the house were fine…with the exception of the horrible nightmares and night terrors I would have every night. I’m no bitch so I put up with them and mentioned them to no one, but my sleep and my emotional well being were severely affected by what would happen every time I tried to rest my eyes in my new house. The nightmares were disgusting and horrific. I saw the deaths of many, including Mom, over and over. Sometimes I thought I had been transported to Hell. The screaming was horrific. There was a stench. Babies turned inside out and crab walked around me in hoards. I always woke myself up with my own screaming and crying. The night terrors were just as bad and I often awoke to find myself scratching at the door of my room and howling like a wounded animal. But, again, I’m no bitch so I kept this shit to myself and kept plugging away at my daily life. To be honest, that did become harder and harder as I became more sleep deprived and as I was being driven completely insane by these dreams.

“Francis, are you OK?” My friends would ask.

“Is living in the house getting to you? You really don’t have to live there, Francis, it’s OK to admit that it’s too difficult to live there.” They’d say.

“What do you mean you’re sleeping in the room she died in? That’s sick. Are you just trying to prove a fucking point to us? You’re being a bitch, Francis, and it’s clearly costing you your sanity.” They’d whine.

Eventually, I didn’t have the energy to fight them anymore. I’d sit there trembling with fear, my fingers bloodied from scratching at the door in my sleep the night before, and I’d nod as my friends urged me to move out of the house. But I knew I wouldn’t move out. At this point, this was my reality and I was going to keep living it until the day I died. That was, until the night everything changed…

I had been fired from my job at the movie theater. My bosses complained that I was scaring the patrons and advised me to get some help. I considered getting help. I sure did feel like I needed some, but I also figured that nightmares and night terrors weren’t that big of a deal. Toddlers deal with this shit all the time. Of course, toddlers can just cry for Mommy when they wake up. I cried for Mommy but she died in the room I was sleeping in and she was a total bitch anyway and wouldn’t help me even if she was still alive.

I drove home in a haze, wondering how I was gonna get another job in this shit town in New Jersey. When I got back to the house I sat in my car for a good three hours before I went inside. Night was falling and I was dreading what was sure to come next. I would fight with sleep for hours before finally succumbing to it and entering some insane, new hell my mind would conceive for me that night. I groaned. I cried. I was so tired of this.

I went inside. The house was so big and empty. Most of Mom’s furniture had been sold at the Estate Sale and I hadn’t bought any new furniture yet. I sat on the hard wood floor of the living room and sobbed a little. I entered the fetal position. None of my friends wanted to hang out with me anymore. Lord knows I didn’t have anything close to a romantic interest. Last person I fucked was that guy from the taco truck, Kevin, and his dick was so small I couldn’t feel it inside me. To some people that’s hot and there’s no shame in having a really small dick but for me, personally, I do prefer to feel the penis in my vagina.

I was totally alone. As I sat there crying, I felt something warm cover me. It felt like a hug. I was so out of my mind with exhaustion and grief that I didn’t think anything of it. That was until whatever was hugging me started kissing my neck.

“What the hell?!” I shouted, twitching away from whatever I had just felt on my neck. I put my hand to my neck. It was wet. I smelled the wet, it smelled like spit.

“Hello?” I said, timidly. “Is anybody in here? Did someone just kiss my freaking neck?”

That’s when I felt another kiss. This one was quick, a sneaky peck, a tease.

“Hey!” I shouted. “I felt that! Show yourself!” I thought maybe someone was in my house wearing one of those invisibility cloaks from Harry Potter. I heard somewhere that the government got a smart idea from those books and fashioned one themselves only to be worn by the CIA and stuff. Is this true?

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a big wet mouth suctioned itself onto the side of my neck and licked and sucked and kissed and licked and sucked and kissed with a ferocity I had never felt from even the most passionate lover. I screamed, horrified by what was happening.

“What the fruck! What the fruck!” I shouted. Fruck was a word I sometimes used instead of fuck. As I was struggling, I realized whatever was happening on my neck felt kind of good and maybe it wasn’t a person in an invisibility cloak. Maybe it was just my body being weird. I calmed down a little. I leaned into the kissing. I thought maybe I was asleep and having the first near-pleasant dream I’d had in a long time.

That’s when I felt the hands. The biggest, strongest hands I’d ever felt wrapped themselves around my ass cheeks.

“Uh” I grunted. It felt kind of good. “Who are you? What are you? What’s happening?” I stammered through the pleasure. Even though this thing had come on kind of strong, I now felt like I definitely wanted to engage with it.

“I consent to what is happening right now.” I said. Consent is really sexy and really turns me on.

Consent apparently really turned on the invisible thing too because as soon as I said that my pants were ripped off my body. I looked down at my crotch. My underwear were soaked with my vaginal lube. It looked like I had peed myself but the pee was a sticky, white substance. That’s what it looks like when a person with a vagina is wet and turned on. I was proud of myself for being so insanely wet.

“Are you a ghost?” I asked while kisses planted themselves all over my legs and while a tongue lapped up the juices running down my legs. It occurred to me that maybe the thing kissing me and drinking my cum couldn’t speak.

“If you are a ghost, put your tongue in my belly button. If you aren’t a ghost, put my finger down your throat and make yourself throw up.” I said. These were some of the kinks I was into and I wasn’t really ashamed of that in this moment.

I felt a wet tongue plunge into my belly button. My belly button is an inny because I’m not gross. Feeling that tongue and knowing that I was fucking a ghost was one of the most arousing moments of my entire life. So much better than when Kevin from the taco truck made himself throw up with my finger down his throat. That was cool, but I was so distracted by the fact that I literally could not feel his penis inside me at all that I didn’t really get to take the moment in. This moment was different. A ghost was fucking me! My bitch ass friends were gonna hear about this later.

“Take off my underwear and put your ghost dick in my lubed up pussy.” I said. Just as I requested, my underwear came off. The ghost was a gentleman so instead of just plunging his cock into my receiver, he started eating me out. Wow. A ghost was eating me out! Just as I was having the thought, “Wow. A ghost is eating me out!” I felt another wet kiss on my neck. Another big wet mouth suctioned itself onto the side of my neck and licked and sucked and kissed and licked and sucked and kissed with a ferocity I had never felt from even the most passionate lover.

“What the fruck! What the fruck!” I shouted, “Is there another ghost in here or do ghosts have more than one mouth?!” Again, I realized that ghosts can’t talk, so I made up another system.

“If there is another ghost that is kissing my neck in addition to the ghost that is biting my clit, put your finger down my throat and make me throw up. If ghosts have more than one mouth, then, I don’t know, also eat out my asshole. Lol.” I said. I kinda wanted both to happen at once but I figured that no matter what I could ask for that later.

A finger plunged down my throat and I vomited all over the place. My puke tasted like Hi-C because I had just drank like five Hi-C juice boxes for dinner. More exciting than that was the fact that it was confirmed that I was having a ghost threesome.

“A ghost threesome!” I shouted, sputtering Hi-C vomit, and throwing my arms up into the air in victory. The house was haunted, that was for sure. The months of nightmares and night terrors leading up to this night had been because the house is crawling with ghosts, and horny ghosts at that.

The ghosts flipped me over and the one that had been working on my baby slit plunged its tongue deep into my asshole.

“Woa, baby!” I shouted.

The ghost that was sucking on my neck pulled my hair and rubbed what felt like a wet vagina on the nape of my neck.

“Oh, you have a ghost pussy.” I said. I’m not a lesbian, but I’ve eaten out a few girls before and this was a special occasion so I was into it.

As my colon was being excavated by the first ghost, and the back of my neck was being fucked by the second ghost, I suddenly felt about four more wet ghost cooters sliding around my back.

“What the fruck!” I shouted. “Is this a ghost orgy?! How many of you are there?”

My question was answered as I was lifted into the air. A ghost dick plunged itself into my mouth as another plunged itself into my snatch. The tongue in my asshole continued swirling around and around. Four or five tongues worked around my neck. Someone pulled my hair. Three sets of teeth bit down on my nipples. Each one of my toes was in a different mouth. Soaking wet beavers and pricks rubbed all over my body. I levitated higher and higher off the ground. I screamed in pleasure. I had always dreamed of having every hole, literal and metaphorical, filled to the gills but I never thought it would happen. Here I was, plugged up like a power strip with all its outlets being used, filled up like a thing that was completely full.

“Who are you people!” I shouted through the ecstasy. No one answered because they were all too busy fucking my human body and also ghosts can’t talk.

The fucking went on all through the night. By the time the orgy was over, my poon and my butthole were gaping abysses, my lips were raw, my nipples looked like they had breastfed ten toothy babies. The floor was covered in vomit and shit and piss and cum, as was I.

I laid in that bodily fluid pond for days. I stared at the ceiling in shock. I had experienced all the pleasure I would ever experience. Any sex I could have after that would be meaningless and stupid and unsatisfying. It did occur to me that any of those ghosts could have been Mom, but she was a bitch and I doubt she would have wanted me to experience that kind of pleasure. Also that would have ruined it, so I decided she definitely was not involved in the orgy.

About a week later I finally had the energy to peel myself off the floor. I was dehydrated and hungry. I was permanently insane. I took a shower and scrubbed the dried cum and shit off my body. I got dressed and left the house. I decided to never go back. But fuck yes, I had a ghost orgy. Which one of my bitchy friends can say that?