Haunting a Wayward Wife

Dear reader::

Ghost stories can be spooky or fun. I hope this bit of ephemera entertains you. Once again selecting a category for this is difficult. Enjoy.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I do, because I am one.

Boo!

I hate being a ghost, trust me its no fucking picnic. It's a miserable existence, or non-existence or quasi -existence. I can't tell anymore, it's way above my pay grade.

Some of you have questions, like if I'm a ghost how come I can write or type this story? Good question, I don't know, maybe telekinesis. I just think of the words and they appear. How did I become a ghost in the first place? Even better question, and an unhappy story for me.

I was happy to have reached retirement age. I worked my ass off to make ends meet for my wife and I. I had just turned sixty-five years old and qualified for full pension, Hallelujah!

I had visions of golfing and fishing trips. Traveling with my lovely, fifty year old wife. Life was good!

My new fishing boat "The Mr. & Miss Demeanor" was at the lake and ready for her maiden voyage. I cranked over the powerful Johnson motor but it wouldn't catch. I checked fuel lines it looked fine. The fuel injection system seemed to be working. It had spark. I gave up and had the mechanic look at it. He said it would be a couple of days before he could get to it. Fuck! There went my fishing weekend all to hell and back. I drove the truck back home.

I was surprised to see a Mercedes convertible in the driveway. I didn't know anyone who owned one of those. I unlocked the door of the house and heard a commotion coming from the bedroom.

Yep, you guessed it! I walked in on my fifty year old wife having the time of her life, getting railed by a thirty-something skinny son of a bitch. He was going to town on her from behind. Her fifty year old tits we're bobbing and swaying like pendulums. I let out an ungodly shriek and the two of them jumped. He climbed off her. For just a moment I forgot the age differential and I shoved him. He shoved back harder and I went backwards, tripping over his pants that lay on the floor. My head landed hard on the hardwood floor. I saw stars and then felt a massive crushing weight on my chest. It felt like an elephant decided to sit on me. It hurt like hell and then the blackness.

The next thing I was aware of, I'm watching myself get out of the truck. It's like I'm observing it all over again, but like I'm watching it in a movie. I see them making love, I watch myself trip over the pants crack my head and then I die.

I looked down at myself and couldn't see my feet, I held out my hands, nothing. It slowly dawned on me that I was in a non-corporal form, I had no body. I was a ghost.

Every night I watched my sweet, loving wife getting fucked by this thirty year old asshole while I was supposed to be out catching walleye!

In time, I found that I could move around the house. I could go where I wanted to go, but when my wife was getting fucked I couldn't leave the room, but I could view my untimely demise and my wife's unfaithfulness from any number of angles. I could tell my wife had shaved her pussy the night before because there was a little bit of stubble. I hated stubble. No one wants to go down on his wife and get whisker burns. I also spotted some genital warts on the dude's junk. My wife's gonna pay for this roll in the hay.

Watching this got boring really fast but repetition is what being a ghost seems to be about. Was I haunting the house or my wife or the asshole boning her?

There was a water glass on the night table. I tried to push it off but my ethereal hand went right through it. With enough practice I got it to wiggle, then knock it off the table onto the bed where it soaked the two cheaters. That was a revelation. I could interact with matter. I could change what happened, it wasn't an endless loop. Fascinating, I began thinking about what further mayhem I cause.

The first thing I tried was getting powdered super hot peppers from the spice rack and dusting the asshole's underwear with it. That one was going to hurt. I tried the same trick but dusting his Johnson on the out stroke. When he plowed it back into her the screams were hilarious.

After a very long time and many repeats I tired of such sport. I accepted the fact that I died and my cougar wife got laid, big fat hairy deal. Once I accepted that, I didn't repeat that little slice of hell. But there were fresh nightmares awaiting.

My dear sweet wife had a wild sex life, beyond our regular sexual escapades that I knew nothing about! I was completely unaware of this until I became a ghost.

Night after night I would watch my wife preparing for bed. She prepared by performing extra beautifying things that she would never do for me. She fixed her hair just right, applied makeup, eyeliners and stuff. She opened a drawer in the closet that I'd never noticed and pulled out the sexiest neglige I've seen, dead or alive. Then 'He' arrived.

'He', was an even younger man, a tradesman. They had wine and I watched as they talked.

"Where is your husband?" He asked. He's either fishing or golfing. I think he up at Griggs point this weekend. Don't worry he's not here. "

He was a good looking kid, mid twenties. My wife looked young at forty- two. I had no idea she was such a cougar. He was an unskilled lover which made me laugh and it made my wife chuckle as well. The lad was well hung.

After the disappointment of the grand finale of that sexual workout. My wife stayed behind chuckling to herself about all the fumbling. Then she turned serious.

"Brian, god damn you, you should be here!"

Shit. She was talking to me!

"Fishing trip or golf weekend which excuse are you giving this week? I wouldn't damn well need Henry or James or Sean to scratch my itch baby. Please come home baby, I need you."

I remember that weekend. It was a bad fishing, a huge cold front came through scattering the typical fishing patterns. It was a waste of time and energy. I couldn't believe that she was wishing I was there with her and not the young men.

It was a startling revelation and as a spirit, a mere ghost, I didn't know how to process this.

The next night's haunting took me further back. I saw my plump, overweight thirty year old self. I was loading up a travel golf bag into a Suburban. My buddies were all there. As I recall we were driving to Florida for a boys golf getaway. One of our number had hurt his arm so he would have to stay back because he couldn't swing a club. I watched us drive away.

My friend sighed heavily.

"Are you wishing you had gone with them Ted?"

He took off the sling and put his arms around her and kissed her.

"Hell no, we're going to have a great week."

The haunting moved to the bedroom. Two years younger than me, she was twenty-eight. Ted stripped her bare. I'd almost forgotten how fit and sexy and gorgeous she was. There was nothing sagging on her body.

If a ghost could get an erection then I had a huge one.

Ted readied himself and he didn't even bother with foreplay. He mounted her and slid one of the biggest cocks I've ever seen into my darling wife. My first thought was that they had done this before, this was something familiar, not a first time.

Ted had often cancelled out of our boys weekend events. He always got hurt or had to work. Now I knew why. Once again the sadness washed over me. Had she ever been true?

When Ted finished he got up to go to the bathroom, the combination of his cum and her lubrication dripped off his cock onto the floor.

I stared at it till I heard my wife sniff. I turned to her and saw a tear slide down her cheek.

She whispered, "I need you Brian, where are you? Why are you never here? You and your precious boys, you'll spend time with them but not me. Why baby, why?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot!" I screamed in my ghostly voice.

Ted walked back into the room, his erection already at full mast and ready to set sail again.

"Round Two?" He asked her.

"Yes, Brian"

"I'm Ted, Brian is off golfing with his friends. I'm the one who's fucking you this week."

She cried as she took him into his arms.

The haunting faded and I was in the bedroom alone. Was there purpose to my ghostly existence? Was it just to torture me by showing me just how unfaithful she was to me or how deaf I was to her cries for closeness?

There were no answers.

Then the haunting faded until the next time. This took me way back to the beginning.

We were so young, my hair was so thick and long and curly! She was my pride and joy, we had been married a few months. I recalled this was the morning I left for a bass fishing tournament. I had high hopes of bringing home a trophy. I kissed her quick and said goodbye.

It was the first time I had left her alone for a weekend. She was nervous. She called her best friend Felicia and she came over to keep her company.

My haunting keeps me confined to the house and yard. My ghost sat with the two women as they talked about girl stuff, they watched a tear jerker of a movie and sipped wine all evening. They put on another movie, an erotic thriller. It was an odd choice but who am I to judge.

During a particularly steamy scene both my wife and my ghostly self noticed Felicia running a finger around her nipple. Then my wife began rubbing her own abdomen. The two women just one upped each other. Soon both of them had the pants on the floor and furiously masturbating.

When the movie ended they hugged each other and kissed. It was a hot kiss, one of the hottest I've seen and I've never experienced anything like that while married to her.

They retreated to the bedroom and the two women enjoyed every nook and cranny of each other's body.

Afterwards my wife and Felicia talked about men and their boys weekends away.

Felicia insisted it was a universal problem and the only answer was to have plenty of lovers to entertain you while they're gone. It seems she took the advice to heart and that was exactly what she did.

I had run the gamut from marriage to my untimely death. I had seen just how much she missed me when I was gone. I was disturbed by the cheating of course.

I thought my haunting days were through. I had been through all of the many lovers my wife had taken. What else was there?

I wasn't finished. The haunting began in the bedroom. My wife walked in. She was older, I guessed maybe five years older. Still beautiful, but the stress of losing me five years ago had aged her. She pulled on a robe and sat at her vanity table. She began talking to herself.

"Come on you silly old cow! Why do you even bother with moisturizing this dried up prune of a face? Habit I suppose."

She leaned forward to gaze into the mirror as she put moisturizer on her face. Her robe gaped open and she screwed up her face as she saw the wrinkled flesh on her chest. She took more moisturizer and applied it to her chest. Her hand cupped a breast and rubbed lotion on it. She played with her nipples.

"Don't go starting something you can't finish," she said.

One hand stayed at her breast and the other went to her pussy.

For an unknown reason this hurt me as much as seeing her cheating. It was sad, empty.

She reached into a drawer in the vanity and pulled out a dildo.

She moved to the bed and ran the silicone cock from pucker to clit a few times before inching it inside her.

"Oh, Brian!," she exclaimed.

"Just like that babe, just like that. Oh, oh, mmmmmm."

He rocked her hips and plunged pseudo-Brian inside her again and again until she arched her back and howled.

"That's good, so good Brian, so good."

How did that make me feel? Five years after my death she still fantasized about me. She cheated on me, but it wasn't the cheaters names she cried out, it was mine!

I had done parlour tricks like the powdered peppers incident and knocking a glass off a table but was I capable of more?

I gazed at her on the bed, post orgasm. She was loose, relaxed. I positioned my spiritual body between her legs. I touched her knee and she moved it to open herself wider. I brought my spectral face closer to her pussy. I kissed it with imaginary lips. I heard her moan.

I licked her from her brown puckered asshole to her clitoris and she arched her back, driving her pussy against my ghostly face. I plunged my tongue inside her vagina and it was heaven.

"Ooh, my goodness, what's happening to me?" She cried.

I kept kissing her pussy, massaging her clit until she came with a shout.

I didn't stop. I pressed ahead, my phantom cock hovered over her cunt and I pressed it home.

It was amazing for me and from the cries of pleasure I knew she was loving it too.

When it ended. She lay there spent.

She caught her breath.

"What the hell was that!" She asked. I kissed her lips and she brought a hand to her lips at the sensation.

"Brian?"

Another kiss

"Oh my God! If it is you, I love you. Forgive me."

I had already forgiven her. I ached for this woman who I had loved. I felt a warm glow that began in the centre of my ectoplasmic body. It radiated through me. I felt... complete.

"Goodbye my love. See you down the road."

Just like that, my haunting days were over.

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