I didn’t expect my August vacation to end with an ectoplasm cream pie.
Then again, I have yet to see any situation where a ghost cumming in you (the aforementioned ectoplasm cream pie) is the expected result.
Especially in August, during my multiple orgasm vacation. I expect ghosts and things in October, right? There’s Halloween, slutty costumes (my fav), and lots of shenanigans about going into a graveyard to fuck a hopefully younger version of Mr. Jones, who looked hot in his 1928 basketball captain award in your old high school.
Maybe scratch that last part from your memory. The point is, this ghost was unexpected.
So here’s where I am. I’m laying in bed, in an Airbnb I rented during my vacation. The Airbnb is a tiny little studio apartment on the 20th floor. I’ve got a window open for airflow since there’s no balcony nor any air conditioning; the screen and bars over the window would also keep anyone out. The heat and humidity are too much, so I’m not in anything but panties.
So I’m on the bed, too hot to sleep but too tired to be awake. And suddenly, I feel something touch my nipple.
Well, my nipples are sensitive on every day that ends with a “y”. I sigh and turn over, assuming they felt the breeze brush over them. Nope. In the new position, with the fan now blowing on my back, my nipples reacted to ice-cold air.
I’m not going to lie. It feels great in that heat. I assume it is a trick of my mind and so, I breathe and let the cold air dance across my flesh.
And then something presses down on my breast, like a hand.
Ghostly Hands
With my eyes closed, I can clearly picture what is touching me. The hand is calloused. The fingertips are hella cold, but warm as they rub my nipples in between fingers.
Sleepily, I brush whatever off my nipple. At this point, I’m starting to get wet. However, I’m stuck in-between exhaustion and arousal, and my mind isn’t thinking clearly. But something does get through the fog of my mind.
There’s no hand on my breasts.
A huffing reaches my ears, and I turn over again to try and get some sleep. I know nothing else is in the house with me, but as I think about it, a creeping cold slides up my neck. And as it does, the cold hands, firmer now, begin to play with my breasts again.
Frowning, I try to wave whatever away again, but this time my hands won’t move. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t.
Adrenaline floods through me, putting me on edge. So when a mouth covers my boobs and a hand pinches my nipple, I gasp into the hand. I hear a chuckle as a cold hand trails southward, reaching between my thighs.
My legs spread apart against my will. Within seconds, that cold hand begins to rub my clit. There’s something over the fingers, something like lube. It warms up as it presses against me, fingers pressing inside.
It doesn’t take long before I cum on those fingers, the heat of my orgasm warming up the room again. And then I hear the voice in my ear. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Give you an ectoplasm cream pie.” Whatever it is, it’s laughing.
Ectoplasm Cream Pie
At this point, I’m thinking someone has broken into the apartment I’m renting. The owners, maybe. A neighbor.
And then my body flies up into the air, and I realize, no. It’s a ghost. Nothing can make me float in the air other than the supernatural.
Well, I think, I’m fucked.
And my legs spread even wider, and I’m turned so my butt is up in the air. Sticky, lube-covered hands spread my ass apart, and something pushes inside me. What I assume is a wet cock slides in and out. There’s no friction along my walls. Only the deep penetration hits me, like a little hammer again and again inside my pussy. Something again reaches for my clit and I’m cumming all over myself.
As I do, the thing behind me stutters, and suddenly waves of cold enter my pussy. I drop down onto the bed. I flip myself over and reach for the light.
There’s nothing in the room. I breathe, checking myself. Bruises on my breasts. Sticky residue over my stomach. And between my legs…
I’ve never seen so much cum.
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