Haunting Helen

This is a fictional story. All characters, human and otherwise, are at least 18 years of age (or were at time of death).

Helen Hall lived way out in the middle of nowhere. The nearest houses to hers had been abandoned ages ago, and were falling down due to long years of neglect. Even the utility companies had quit maintaining their lines to her house. The house had been on a private well and septic system since it was built. She'd installed lots of solar panels for electricity. She had a storage battery for overnight electric needs, and a standby generator if the battery ran down. She had a big propane tank for heating the house, heating water, cooking, and running the generator. She hung her clothes up to dry. She had satellite internet and phone service, so wasn't entirely cut off from the rest of the world. Her mail was dropped off by the mail transfer truck that passed her house on its run between towns that were most directly connected by the road she lived on. The other reason the road still existed was because the firefighters needed it to get to wildfires. She had a 50 foot zone around her house free of any trees or shrubs, with the first 10 feet covered in gravel, and the rest in clover.

It was a lonely life, but Helen had gotten fed up with the rest of humanity. Her divorce had been the stuff of horror movies. She went to town every few weeks to shop at the small grocery store and even smaller hardware store. She was proficient with most of the tools she needed to maintain the property, and could work the others safely enough. The solitary life suited her science fiction writing occupation nicely. She was in a few online writers´ groups for some semblance of community.

Another bonus of being so far from other people was no trick or treaters, Christmas carolers, and other passing nuisances. Even political canvassers left her alone.

Halloween brought a violent thunderstorm. Amid the crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning, she thought she heard something... different. It wasn´t quite the howling wind, nor creaking of the old house as it was buffeted by the gusts. It sounded like someone moaning, though whether in pain or pleasure or something else, she couldn´t say.

She grabbed a flashlight, and proceeded to check all the doors and windows. All were secure. Now the moaning sounded like it was coming from inside the house. She checked the basement, nothing. She checked the attic, also nothing.

¨It must just be the storm, ¨ she said to herself. She decided against a shower, since she´d not worked up any sweat all day. She changed to pajamas, cleaned her teeth, and went to bed.

The storm wasn´t going to let her get to sleep easily. She got up, checked the weather radio, and it sounded like it would last most of the night. She decided she might as well do a little more writing of her latest saga.

As she wrote, she felt like someone was watching her. ¨This is getting weird, ¨ she said to herself.

GHOSTS IN THE COMPUTER

The computer popped open a new window. ¨That shouldn´t happen, ¨ she said. ¨All I have open is the word processor, none of the browsers. Besides, satellite link is blocked by the rain. ¨

She read the popup. ¨Helen, we need you, ¨ it began. ¨We are the ghosts in the computer. We used to live in the houses around you, but they´ve become unfit for even ghosts. ¨

¨Huh, ¨ she said aloud.

¨Open a new document, so we can read what you say, ¨ the ghostly popup directed.

She saved her manuscript, and opened a new document file. ¨Who, or what, are you? ¨ she began.

¨We are the ghosts that have taken refuge in your computer, because our old homes are no longer habitable, ¨ the popup continued.

¨What do you want of me? ¨ she asked, getting curious as to who these hackers really were.

¨We want to talk to you, tell you our stories. Some of us were murdered. You can tell our stories, maybe get some justice for us. ¨

¨You´re kidding, right? ¨ she asked.

¨No, we are deadly serious, ¨ came the reply.

¨I´ll need names, dates, places, other details to work with, ¨ she requested.

The list of names, dates, places came up instantly in the popup. There were seven names of ghosts, some of whom might have been murdered, dates ranging back to 1940, and places well beyond the nearby abandoned houses she knew.

¨This is a lot to go through, ¨ she typed. ¨Some of the people are probably long dead. It will take time, and I can´t work online during this storm. ¨

¨Copy the list into your file, and work on it when you can, ¨ the reply came.

¨You seem to know a lot about modern technology, especially since some of you died before anything like this existed, ¨ she typed.

¨Some of us died, or were killed, much more recently, so the younger ones know modern life, ¨ said the popup.

¨This would be easier for me if you would identify who is typing, so I can begin to get a picture of the group I´m dealing with, ¨ she typed.

¨Alan Adams, ¨ came the first reply. ¨Killed in a hit and run car wreck in 2022 at the age of 22. ¨

¨Beverly Billings, ¨ was the second reply. ¨Murdered by my husband in 1955 at the age of 25. He ran away, and I never saw him again. My body was found by the mailman after the mailbox filled up. ¨

¨Charlie Callahan, ¨ was third. ¨Died in the flood of 1988, body never found because the wolves got me first. I was only 19."

¨Danny Dominguez, ¨ was fourth. ¨Killed walking along the road in 1966 by a hit and run driver. I was 33. ¨

¨Eleanor Isengard, ¨ was fifth. ¨Died in my sleep, home alone in 1944 while my husband was fighting in Europe. I was only 20. ¨

¨Willie Wilson, ¨ was sixth. ¨Came back from World War Two an invalid, fell down the hill and died there in 1947. Not sure if I actually fell, or was maybe pushed. I was 26 at the end. ¨

¨Zinnia Smith, ¨ was seventh, and last. ¨I was working in my garden in 1969. Next thing I knew, I was a ghost. No idea how it happened. Wondered if maybe it was a heart attack. I was 66, after all, and had several heart problems. ¨

¨I´ll need addresses or mile markers or whatever for each of you, ¨ Helen typed. ¨It´ll take time once the storm clears to research each of you. ¨

¨Thank you, Helen, ¨ the ghost popup said.

¨How will I contact you? ¨ she asked.

¨We´ll check in with you in a few days, ¨ came the reply. ¨Goodnight, gentle woman, and pleasant dreams. ¨

The popup disappeared. She named the file GHOSTS HALLOWEEN 2026, saved it and shut down the computer.

Helen was now officially spooked, but too tired to do anything but try to get some sleep. The storm had quieted down to just moderate rain. That usually helped calm her.

HELEN'S WET DREAM

Her first dream was a strange one. ¨I´m Willie, ¨ the person in her dream said. ¨One of the ghosts you talked with earlier. This is how I looked before being crippled in the war. ¨

He was a striking young man, wearing an Army uniform with Corporal´s stripes. She guessed he was maybe 5'7" tall, 130 pounds.

"Why are you haunting my dreams?" Helen asked.

"We all sensed some needs in you that even we ghosts might be able to satisfy," the ghost replied.

"OH?" Helen was a bit surprised, bordering on shocked.

"Yes," Ghost Willie continued. "You live alone, with no sign of regular visitors to this house. We sense a great deal of loneliness."

"Well," Helen began, "it was good to be away from other people for the first few years, but lately with the storms getting worse, it's felt lonely, and not in a good way."

"That's what we think we can help with," Ghost Willie told her.

"How so?" Helen asked.

"You can have friends in your dreams," he explained.

"What kind of friends?" she asked. She was beginning to worry about nightmares.

"Whatever kinds of friends you need," the ghost told her.

"Any kind of friend?" she asked, still with her guard up, but a little more curious.

"Yes," the ghost continued. "Friends to talk out concerns with. Friends to just listen when you need to let off steam."

"Go on," she encouraged him.

"Friends to party with," he continued. "Christmas, New Year, Valentine's Day, Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving."

"The last couple of years I've gone to the Thanksgiving meal at the food pantry, as a server to help those who need it," she replied. "Christmas is usually the same group."

"Sounds very noble," the ghost observed. "Also sounds depressing."

"Actually, most of the people who attend those dinners are grateful for what little they have," she countered. "Some have come up from even worse situations."

"Very touching," the ghost replied. "Also still sounds like it saddens you."

"Our political leaders claim we're the greatest country on earth, yet so many people are struggling to have even the basic needs. You should understand that, having grown up in the Great Depression, then fought the bloodiest war in history."

"That is true," he admitted. "My family were among the many Okies who migrated west toward California looking for a better life."

"Did you find it?" she asked.

"Not quite," the ghost lamented. "Our car died in New Mexico, so we were stuck there. We lived in a Hooverville for six months, my parents working what jobs they could find. I picked crops at age 14."

"At least you had something," she observed.

"Six months of hard work got us enough to afford to rent a dilapidated old cabin," the ghost continued. "It wasn't much, but better than Hooverville."

"So, what is it that a Ghost Soldier wants most," she asked, hoping for a less depressing answer.

"Sex," he replied, with a hopeful grin.

"WHAT?!" she yelled in her sleep.

"Is that so awful a thing to want?" Ghost Willie countered.

"I suppose not, just nothing I ever thought of in connection with ghosts," she admitted.

"How long has it been since you had sex, Helen?" Ghost Willie asked, sounding concerned for her but also with a tinge of hope that his own long dry spell might end soon.

"Too long," she replied, dolefully.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really," she began. "But if you must know, it was right before my husband turned abusive."

"Well, at least it doesn't sound like he raped you," the ghost consoled.

"True," she said. "He was deeply frustrated, though, because we'd been trying to have a child, and just weren't getting pregnant. He refused all suggestions to see a fertility specialist to find out why we couldn't conceive. He was afraid that he was the problem, and his ego couldn't cope with that possibility."

"So he took it out on you until you couldn't take it anymore?" Ghost Willie asked.

"Exactly," she continued. "Finally, after he nearly broke my arm, I packed up and left. Spent three months in a shelter for battered women, then got my own apartment. This house took five years of hard work to get the downpayment."

"You sound like you've got some steel in your spine," he observed.

"More like cast iron," she lamented.

"You're free of his physical presence now, but I sense that the emotional wounds still ache," the ghost commiserated.

"Exactly," she replied. "I still don't see how sex with a ghost is supposed to help all that."

"First, there's no fear of getting pregnant. I'm not the Holy Ghost. Second, there's no need to feel any guilt. It'd be a dream as far as you're concerned."

"Well, then, how do we do this?" she asked. He was finally getting her body's attention.

"However you want," the ghost replied.

"It's been so long, I should take it slow," she began. "On the other hand, why postpone the pleasure, if I'm even capable of that anymore."

"So, how do you want it?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't get cold feet.

"Gently, for sure," she began. "You'll need to warm me up with some foreplay. Then when we get to the actual genital intercourse, be gentle."

"I can do that," Ghost Willie tried to reassure her.

"Let's start with a kiss," she directed.

He bent over, kissed her gently on the cheek. She turned to face him, and pulled him down for a proper kiss on the mouth.

"MMM," she purred. "First kiss in years. Nice."

"Glad you like, it's my first in nearly 80 years," Ghost Willie replied, sounding rather sad.

"Okay," she said. "Now, let me get undressed so you can continue to explore my body."

Her clothes disappeared at the suggestion.

"Interesting," she noted.

"Welcome to the world of dreams, the possibilities of mind unconstrained by matter," he replied. "It took me a while to get used to being able to go where I wanted just by thinking of it."

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked, beginning to wonder why he wasn't all over her already.

"Once, with a French girl, during the war," he replied. "She was barely 18, orphaned by the war, kind of attached herself to my unit. Most of the single guys had her at least once, even a few of the married ones."

"What happened to her?" Helen asked.

"She marched with us until we got to a town where she had relatives, and stayed with them," he explained.

"Enough of my sad life," he switched gears as fast as he could. "This is supposed to be about making you feel good."

"OK, stud," she tried to get the situation back on track. "Pay attention to my breasts."

He began to fondle them, then kissed them.

"Suck them," she ordered.

He did as he was told. A few minutes on each breast got the nipples nice and hard.

"Now, kiss your way down to my vagina, and kiss and lick and suck it," she directed.

He kissed his way down to her womanhood, and kissed it. He'd not done that to the French girl. Helen's hole was already wet with anticipation. The taste was okay, but the smell was making him really, really, horny.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she panted. "Now, get on top of me and fuck me like you mean it."

He mounted her, and she guided his cock into her waiting cooch. This was the first time she'd been able to assess his endowment. It felt a bit smaller than her husband's, but adequate to the moment.

"MMMM," she moaned. "That's wonderful."

"Yes, you are," Ghost Willie agreed.

"Now, the question is, can you hold off until I orgasm?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied. "I'm a ghost, at the moment I'm at your command."

"Good, because this is going to take awhile," she told him. "Fuck me harder!"

He picked up the pace, and slammed her harder than he'd ever done the French girl.

"OHHH, OOOOHHHHH, YEOW!" she yelled as her first orgasm in ages washed over her.

"Was that your orgasm?" he asked.

"FUCK YES!" she screamed.

"May I ejaculate now?" he asked, hopefully.

"Of course, my dear," she replied. "Fill me with your cream."

He proceeded to cum harder than he'd cum with the French girl, shooting so much jizz that Helen's pussy overflowed all over the bed.

"WOW," she panted when he finally finished spurting.

"I didn't know I had that much in me," he admitted.

"I told you to fill me with your cream, so the dream control aspect of this made it happen," she said, hoping that was the right answer.

"Now what?" Ghost Willie asked as his willie shrank.

"Now I need to clean up and you need to go revel in your accomplishment," she told him. She pulled his head down to thank him with a kiss.

"Thank you, Helen," he said before vanishing.

She woke up, and said to herself, "That was weird. I'm still in my pajamas, but my pussy is soaking wet."

She went to the bathroom to clean up. "Better add a panty liner, just in case," she said to herself. She went back to her bedroom, got a clean pair of panties, inserted the liner, and got back to bed.

ALL SAINTS DAY

Helen spent All Saints Day looking online for information on the ghosts in her computer. She found bits and pieces, mainly old newspaper clippings that had been digitized. It wasn't much, but confirmed that there had been people with those names. She was hoping to not have to get an account at ancestry. com. Then it occurred to her that there was a county historical society that might have more information, or maybe the library? She tried the Legacy. com website, but it didn't go back far enough for most of her ghosts. Even Alan Adams, who'd just died in 2022, wasn't there.

She'd put a few of hours into online searches, and concluded that she'd have to look up the county historical society and see if she needed an appointment, or could just drop in during whatever their normal hours might be.

She decided once the sun came out that she'd best check her property for storm damage. She found a few downed tree limbs, and dragged them to her burn pile. Today was also mail day, so she hiked to the roadside to check that. She caught a glimpse of something shiny off the far side of the road, and found the remains of a mirror broken off a car.

"Could this be a clue?" she wondered aloud. Two of her ghosts claimed to have been killed in hit-and-run incidents. She picked it up, and carried it back to the house along with the mail.

It took some work, but she finally identified a few possible cars the mirror might be from. One was too new, the other two were in a plausible age range for at least Alan. The next problem was that there was no telling if, when, or where, the damaged car might have been repaired. The simplest thing for her to do would be to turn it over to the sheriff's office and let them investigate. They should have a lot more information sources, and the ability to get possibly reluctant people to talk. That would be a task for another day. She would need to go into town soon for groceries and other things, so could stop by the sheriff's office then. She wasn't an amateur detective, after all.

She put in a couple of hours on her latest story effort, but didn´t make much progress. Maybe she could turn her ghosts into a mystery story.

Evening came, and she put together a simple supper. After cleaning up the dishes, she checked the latest installments of the few podcasts she followed. Then she thought to search for podcasts about ghosts. There were quite a few, most of which sounded like clickbait. One, however, caught her eye. It was titled nspirement. com. Most of the accounts were from Southeast Asia, but she didn´t see why that part of the world should have a corner on such things. The few stories she skimmed at random seemed to be about troubled living people trying to come to terms with the loss of a loved one.

She finally got tired enough to go shower and on to bed. She hadn´t been asleep long before her second dream began. ¨Hello, Helen, ¨ the ghost began. "I´m Alan Adams. I was killed in a hit and run car wreck in 2022 at the age of 22. I see you found a broken car mirror today. ¨

¨Yes, I did, ¨ she began. ¨It was just a shining glimmer off the side of the road. I have a few possible types of car it could be from. I was planning to take it to the sheriff´s office the next time I go into town. ¨

¨That´s good work, ¨ Ghost Alan told her. ¨However, that´s not why I´m visiting your dream tonight. ¨

¨Oh?, ¨ Helen asked.

¨I was talking with Willie about his visit to you last night, ¨ Ghost Alan explained.

¨I suppose an enlisted soldier can´t be expected to be a gentleman, ¨ she surmised.

¨How so? ¨ Ghost Alan asked.

¨As in a gentleman doesn´t kiss and tell, ¨ she explained.

¨Well, ¨ Ghost Alan continued. ¨He did tell us that you seemed quite receptive to his advances. I was hoping maybe you´d fancy a turn with me. ¨

¨Right to the point, I see, ¨ she noted. ¨Well, it had been a long time, and I´ve excused myself from the dating scene in real life and online. What have you got to offer that Willie doesn´t have? ¨

¨We discussed details, and he noted that his penis fit quite easily into your vagina, ¨ Ghost Alan stated. ¨I can offer you a larger penis, that might give you more pleasure. ¨

¨How much larger? ¨ she asked.

¨Long enough to reach the bottom of your vagina, and fat enough to stretch you a little bit, ¨ he replied, almost too matter-of-factly.

¨How can you be so sure? ¨ she countered.

¨Being in your mind, I can adjust, ¨ he explained.

¨Okay, ¨ she began. ¨Assuming you can adjust on the fly, so to speak, that could be interesting. ¨

¨Is that a yes? ¨ Ghost Alan asked.

¨More a why the hell not? ¨ Helen replied.

¨Well, then, let´s get started, ¨ Ghost Alan declared.

His clothes disappeared, and so did hers. He pulled back the bedcovers, and laid down alongside Helen´s nude form. He leaned over her, and gave her a good kiss on the lips. She could feel his cock touch her thigh.

¨Is that a bit of pre-cum? ¨ she asked.

¨Yes, indeed, ¨ he admitted. ¨What would you like me to do to get you wet? ¨

¨Eat me, ¨ she bade.

He went down on her like he knew what he was doing. He was skillful with his tongue, and almost sucked her clit right off her body.

¨Wow, ¨ she said. ¨You sure know your way around a pussy. ¨

¨I had a good teacher, ¨ he replied.

¨Now, let´s see how well she taught you to fuck, ¨ she demanded.

He mounted her quickly, and his cock slid right into her wetness. She felt fuller than she´d ever felt with a man inside her, but not stretched to the point of pain. He did indeed hit bottom, something she´d only felt before with a dildo. He knew just how to fuck her to bring her to a quick orgasm. He let her enjoy her climax with his cock filling her cunt. When she had settled down, he resumed fucking her, this time sucking her tits until she came a second time.

When she´d recovered from her second orgasm, she told the ghost, ¨You´d better cum soon. I don´t think I can take a third orgasm like those two. ¨

¨Do you want it in your pussy, or on your chest? ¨ he asked.

¨I´ve only had one pearl necklace in my life, ¨ she replied. ¨Give me another. ¨

He gave her pussy a few more thrusts for good measure, then pulled out and took aim at her chest. He planted a very nice necklace of cum pearls across her chest, with a few more pearls down between her breasts.

¨Impressive, ¨ she told him on seeing his aim.

¨I am a ghost, and this is your dream, so of course it´s a work of art, ¨ he told her. ¨Now, alas, it´s time for me to go. What shall I tell the other two horny ghosts?"

¨Tell them one per night, ¨ she replied.

¨Good night, dear lady, ¨ Ghost Alan said before he disappeared.

She awoke the next morning, remembering the dream fuck vividly. She was glad she´d remembered the panty liner, which was soaked with her pussy juice.

She spent the day alternating between trying to add to her science fiction story, looking for more information online about her ghosts. She ran a load of laundry, too, and hung it on the porch to dry.

NOVEMBER 2ND

The day dawned cold and clear. Helen had breakfast, sat down to try to write some more on her science fiction story. She wasn't making much progress.

"I wonder what those ghosts will come up with next," she mused to herself.

She shouldn't have said that. An unexpected window popped open.

"Hi, Helen," the text appeared. "It's Ghost Beverly Billings. I was wondering if you'd found out anything about my husband, the murderer. ¨

Helen opened the GHOSTS HALLOWEEN 2026 file, put in today's date and time, and started replying to Ghost Beverly. "I need more information before I can even begin. The exact date of your murder, your husband's name, a physical description including any features that might help me identify him, where he might have gone."

"His name was Robert John Billings. He killed me on May 19th, 1955. He was 5'9" tall, about 170 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. His parents were in Kansas City, last I heard. He had a brother in Helena, Montana. He had a black 1950 Ford coupe."

"That sounds like a lot of men in that time," Helen replied. "Was there anything unique about him, physically? Did he have any off behaviors?"

"Well," the ghost began, "his fingers were all the same length. No amputations, just all the same length. He had a scar on his upper left arm, but he never told me how he got it.."

"What about his toes?" Helen asked.

"What about them?" the ghost countered.

"Were they also all the same length, or anything else odd about them?"

"They seemed pretty normal," the ghost replied. "He did have a little limp, tried to not put too much weight on his left leg."

"Anything else?"

"Well, he had an odd way of looking at other women," the ghost added.

"Odd in what way?" Helen asked.

"I could never figure that out," the ghost answered.

"Was it lustful?" Helen asked.

"Huh?" the ghost countered.

"Was he perhaps sizing them up as if he wanted to have sex with them?" Helen clarified.

"Dear, how would I know something like that?" the ghost seemed almost insulted by the question.

"What was his facial expression like when he looked at other women?" Helen rephrased the question.

"Almost, maybe, quizzical," the ghost replied, hesitantly.

"Did you notice anything on the faces of the women he looked at?"

"Not really," the ghost answered. "But they did seem to want to get away from him as quickly as they could."

"Anything else?" Helen thought she might be getting somewhere.

"When we went to a restaurant we'd been to before, we almost always got a male waiter," the ghost recalled.

"Sounds like he scared the waitresses," Helen noted.

"Maybe," the ghost sort-of agreed.

"Did he ever have a picture published anywhere?" Helen asked.

"Only his high school class picture. Class of 1949 at Clay County High School, in Missouri."

"I may be able to find that," Helen said. "What about wedding pictures?"

"We had a few in the house. His parents and my parents each had one."

"Your house looks unsafe," Helen noted. "So, unless you can check it out and see if the pictures are still there, I might have to call in the sheriff to help."

"Good point," the ghost agreed. "I can check and see if they're still around somewhere. Back in a jiffy."

The screen stayed unchanged for about fifteen minutes. Helen used the time to consolidate the ghost's lines into her document file, to have a coherent conversation.

"Well, I found one," the ghost announced. "It's in the living room, on a table between the front windows. It looked safe enough for you to get at. The back door is the only one unlocked, though, so you'll have to get thru the house."

"Great," Helen replied. "Can you check the route from the back door to the picture, look for rotten floor boards, weak joists, and so on?"

"I wouldn't know what to look for," the ghost lamented.

"Could one of the male ghosts go with you? They might know enough to be worthwhile."

"I could ask them," Ghost Beverly replied.

"Good," Helen said. "Let me know what you find."

"This may take awhile," the ghost answered. "Don't wait up for me."

Helen started searching for Class of 1949, Clay County High School, Missouri. She found a class list, and an old newspaper article. Neither had any pictures with them. Then she searched for Robert John Billings. That got the same high school stuff, plus Beverly's obituary in the local newspaper. She tried variations on the name, including Bob Billings, John Billings, Jack Billings. Those got some hits, but none that seemed relevant. She tried other variants, including Bob Johnson, Bill Johnson, Bill Roberts, Bill Jackson, RJ. Again, nothing seemed relevant. She tried searching for "man with all fingers same length" and finally hit paydirt. There was a BJ Jackman, who was murdered in 1957 when a jealous husband caught him in bed with his wife. It happened a few hundred miles from Beverly's house. She made notes on the jurisdiction, as well as the web page addresses.

All that research took her to suppertime. She suddenly realized she'd not had lunch, so made a fair sized supper to make up for the missing meal.

After supper, she turned on the TV. "Sheesh," she lamented, "700 channels and nothing that strikes my fancy."

"Might as well look up Eleanor Isengard, ¨ she decided. ¨What if she wasn't alone when she died in her sleep in 1944 while my husband was fighting in Europe? Age 20 is rather young to die of natural causes. ¨

She looked up Eleanor online. The obituary seemed to confirm Eleanor's account. The autopsy was reported as inconclusive. That might be one to check with the coroner's office when she got to town.

HELEN'S NEXT WET DREAM

Helen was exhausted. She may have solved the mystery of Beverly's missing husband. The findings on Eleanor were rather disappointing, leaving her wondering why the obituary merely said the autopsy was inconclusive.

"Enough for one day," she said to the empty house. She got cleaned up for bed, and dressed to retire. Just in case another ghost came to her in her dreams, she put in a panty liner.

Sure enough, she had a visit shortly after she got into a sound sleep. This time, two ghosts appeared at the foot of her bed. From what little she could see, one looked a bit younger than the other.

"Let me guess," she began. "The young-looking one is Charlie, and the bearded one is Danny."

"Right on both counts," Charlie confirmed. "We thought we'd come together to see you."

"Why?" she asked.

"We thought maybe you'd like us to cum together in you or on you," Danny explained.

"Why do I feel like I'm become a whore to a gang of horny ghosts?" she asked.

"Well, Willie and Adam both said you seemed thrilled for their company," Charlie began. "They made you sound so lonely, and so happy to finally have some semblance of male companionship."

"So, how about it?" Danny continued to press. "Do you think you can handle two of us at once?"

"Maybe," Helen admitted. "My ex-husband tried to talk me into a 3-way with one of his buddies, but I told him absolutely not."

"He's out of your life now, so you can do what you want," Charlie observed.

"I can believe maybe Danny has some experience, but Charlie seems a bit young to have done it," Helen noted.

"I popped my girlfriend's cherry on her 18th birthday," Charlie boasted. "She even had an orgasm."

"Impressive," Helen admitted. "How about Danny?"

"I had a few girls in my day," he confessed. "My first was a 40 year old widow, who taught 19 year old me well. The later ones were all closer to my age, and appreciated all the older woman had taught me."

"I take it you've discussed how you'd like to take me?" Helen asked, wondering what they had in mind.

"We bounced around a few ideas, but figured we'd see how you want it," Danny answered.

"Good question," Helen began. "How do I want two studs at once?"

"Let us give you a little help," Charlie said as he started to undress. Danny also shed his ghostly clothes. Both had impressive cocks, already rising to the hoped-for occasion.

"Well, boys," Helen started teasing, "let me think about this. There are several options... pussy fuck, ass fuck, face fuck, tit fuck. What do each of you like best?"

"I've only ever had pussy," Charlie lamented.

"I've done it all," Danny almost boasted. "Pussy seemed to do the most for the women, but I found ass was more stimulating in some ways. ¨

¨I´ve never been big on blowjobs, ¨ Helen admitted. ¨My tits aren´t big enough for a good fucking. So we´ll do Danny in my pussy and Charlie can have his first piece of ass. ¨

¨Oh, boy, ¨ Charlie said gleefully.

¨I have some magic lube to help the kid slide into your poop chute, ¨ Danny added.

"That's nice," Helen began. "Let me get undressed first."

Her pajamas and panties disappeared in a flash.

Danny laid down on the bed, signaling for Helen to climb aboard. She did so, and let Charlie guide Danny's dong into her eager beaver. Charlie then guided his magically lubed lance to Helen's back door, and touched her gently.

"Go slowly," Danny cautioned the younger ghost. "She'll be really tight, and probably have a hard time loosening up enough to let you in."

"That's right," Helen added. "All I've had from behind in a long time is a skinny anal vibrator."

Charlie pushed forward, but her back door was closed tight.

"Maybe try a finger first," Danny suggested.

"Okay," Charlie replied. He lubed up his middle finger and pushed it into Helen's rectum.

"OOOH," she gasped.

"Problem?" Charlie asked.

"No, just trying to get used to something coming in through the out door," she replied. "Finger me a little more, then try your dick again."

Charlie fingered her a few more minutes, then pulled out his now brown finger. He aimed his cock at her bunghole, and this time she was able to loosen up enough to let him in.

"Now we can start fucking," Danny said. "First, let's go in together and slide back out together, see what that does for Helen."

They tried that for a few minutes, and she didn't seem to be reacting much.

"Now, you push in while I back out, then we reverse directions," Danny directed.

A few more minutes and Helen started to warm up to the double dick doings.

"I think I like this a little better," Helen told them.

They fucked her for several more minutes, then she told them to go back to thrusting in together.

That was actually working a little better for her, but still not quite getting her off.

"Charlie, dear, adjust your aim so you're thrusting as close to straight down as you can," she requested.

He shifted his aim, gave her a few thrusts, then asked, "Like this?"

"Fuck, yes," Helen replied, obviously getting a bigger charge than she'd been getting.

"I can feel Danny's dick in your pussy now," Charlie declared.

"Yes," Helen moaned. "That's what I need."

They kept fucking her til she finally orgasmed. Then they both came, buried deep inside her.

"WOW!" Helen exclaimed. "That was something else."

"In a good way, I take it," Charlie replied.

"Fuck yes," she confirmed.

"We'll let you get some rest now," Danny said. "How are the investigations going?"

"I found out that Beverly's husband didn't last very long. Shot by a jealous husband who caught him with the shooter's wife. Eleanor's autopsy was officially inconclusive. I found a car mirror that might have come off the one that hit one of you two. I'll take it to the sheriff when I go into town tomorrow."

"Thanks," Danny replied. "I saw some cold case files get cracked open by some odd discoveries. Maybe this will be one of them."

"Here's hoping," Charlie added.

"Goodnight, guys," Helen was ready to try to get some sleep.

"Goodnight, dear lady," they said before vanishing.

She went and got cleaned up. Her pussy was soaked, along with the panty liner. Her ass was nice and dry, which was nice.

HELEN GOES TO TOWN

The next day, Helen went thru the house, adding to her shopping list. She printed out two copies of the ghost information, and put the broken car mirror into her pickup truck.

The sheriff's deputy seemed skeptical.

"Well, Ms. Hall, we'll look at what you've given us," the deputy began. "We don't often get serious ghost stories, but you seem to have found some bits of evidence that are worth a more detailed look. I don't guarantee anything. Some of this should go to the Coroner's office, right across the street."

The coroner was glad for the live visit. Most of her visitors were stone cold silent. Going through old records would take some time, especially since most of the really old ones were hand-written, and not very legible. Helen left another copy of the ghost file with the coroner.

Helen felt a bit disheartened. She'd done the best she could do with open sources she found. The officials seemed very skeptical. She'd check back the next time she came into town.

THE GHOSTS CHECK IN

That evening, Helen tried working on her science fiction story. All she could think of were the ghosts. Then the odd window popped up.

"How did it go with the sheriff and coroner?" Adam asked.

"They were polite, but of course skeptical," Helen began. "They said they'd look into it, but I'm not holding my breath."

"Thank you for that much, whatever comes of it," Beverly added.

"I understand the boys visited you over the last new nights," Eleanor added.

"News travels fast even in the afterlife," Helen replied. "Yes, they all visited, and gave me some interesting dreams."

"Glad you enjoyed us," Willie chimed in. "Are you interested in any encores?"

"I was right," Helen snorted. "I'm becoming the fucktoy for a gang of horny ghosts."

"Think of us as amorous admirers from the afterlife," Danny suggested.

"I'll have to think about it," Helen answered. "Polyamory is nothing I ever considered, let alone with ghosts who show up in dreams."

"I feel left out," Zinnia lamented.

"How so?" Adam asked.

"You bastards go after the live woman who might help us get justice, or at least answers, but ignore Beverly, Eleanor, and me," Zinnia clarified.

"So you think the seven of us should become our own sex gang?" Eleanor asked.

"I'd put it more politely, but, yes," Zinnia answered.

"Tell you what," Helen interrupted. "You seven go figure out your arrangements, and check back with me in a week.

"Yes, ma'am," Charlie replied.

The ghosts left Helen alone for a whole week. During that time, the sheriff's office called to say they were checking on Beverly's husband. The coroner's office reported that Eleanor's autopsy photos had some odd marks that weren't mentioned in the written report, but they couldn't tell what made them. Zinnia's short autopsy merely confirmed that she had died of a heart attack.

When the ghosts checked back in, they were grateful for Helen's information from the sheriff and coroner. They had also worked out an arrangement among themselves. They'd check in with Helen monthly to report on their doings, and see if she wanted anything.

Helen had recurring wet dreams with the male ghosts. Sometimes one would have sex with her while the other ghosts watched. Eleanor was especially interested, since she and her husband only had sex a few times before he shipped off to the war.

AFTERMATH

The sheriff's office eventually confirmed Helen's suspicions about Beverly's husband. The car mirror didn't lead to anything on either hit and run. The coroner had shared the photos from Eleanor's autopsy with several other coroners, who had a few theories about what might have caused them, but nothing suspicious. The best guess was the bandannas that some women wore back in the 1940s might have chafed a bit.

Helen passed that along to the ghosts the next time they checked in with her. They were grateful for her efforts, even though there was no sign of justice for the hit-and-run victims.

The ghosts continued to visit Helen's dreams occasionally, treating her to a variety of wet dreams. The ghost women shared their sexual insights with the ghost men, which actually improved the variety of their approaches to Helen. The new moves pleased her, both for the care they indicated and the increased sexual pleasure she received.