Ghosts are Real

"Non-Descript Human Male". That's how they had described my beloved in their documentary about ghost sightings. I was white-knuckled when I saw that on TV. That show was made by a bunch of lonely lunatics who couldn't see how beautiful his soul was.

I undressed, put on some bubblegum lipstick that normally didn't match my complexion, but which I knew my boy liked, and mentally prepared for the climactic moment of my glorious plan.

They had said he was lying, faking it, even though their whole shtick was making up ghost stories and convincing idiots to believe them. But when they encountered a real one, they couldn't manipulate it to easily make it even more spooky than it really was. In a line of work where all of your competition are making things up, reality can't compete. They needed something more ridiculous than their competitors' imaginations, not something real. So they mocked my silly, wonderful boyfriend on TV.

"I don't even believe in ghosts," he said, explaining it all to me while looking exhausted and defeated. Unacceptable.

Come Halloween, the season with fake ghosts everywhere, I knew he had avoided making plans. So I made my own. I had laid a trail of Skittles leading from the front door of our house to our bedroom door. On the bedroom door, I'd placed a note; it read: "Beware of ghosts! (They are very real!)."

I prepared myself atop the bed, covering my nude body with a sheet that had cut-outs only for my eyes and mouth, and sat with my feet tucked beneath my butt, thighs kissing calves. I positioned the sheet so that the holes matched my own and so it rested down atop me loosely. I felt my nipples harden against the fabric, and knew they were visible through it. I was already excited to tease him this way, but I started casually playing with myself so that I'd be super ready the moment he wanted me.

I heard him come in the front door. Always punctual, which made this kind of thing a lot easier to do. He said something, but I couldn't quite make it out. Footsteps down the hall. I started moaning ghostly 'ooh' and 'ahh' sounds that were very intentionally vague, sexy and spooky. Then the door creaked open.

The room was dim, but the bit of light from the bathroom and the moonlight through the window was sufficient for me to see the big stupid smile on his stupid adorable face. "What... is this?" He asked.

"Oooh, I have come to haunt you... with my beauty!" I trembled, trying desperately not to laugh. "Or maybe my booty, if you prefer that tonight..."

He took a few steps in, dropped something he was carrying on the floor, and unbuckled his belt. I've never seen him undress so fast, he basically tackled me on the bed. He was kissing me and fondling me through the sheet when I said, "Oooh noo, are you a ghost buster?"

He paused. "Well, I am about to bust inside this ghost I found..." Then he took advantage of me laughing hysterically at that by shifting back to the edge of the bed, grabbing my feet - making me giggle and squirm - and dragging me forcefully back toward him until he could drop my feet down to the floor so my butt was on the edge of the bed. I clung to the sheet which was surprisingly difficult to keep down against my body through all this, and he dug his fingers into my hips while lining his cock up to fuck into me quite suddenly.

I was glad that I had already gotten quite wet, because he was relentless. I heard him gasp and knew he needed this, I felt weirdly proud of myself because of how intensely he was fucking me, I knew he must be going crazy for me in that moment, and soon enough I was going crazy for him too, to the point where it was hard for me to even think because he was fucking me so unrelentingly for so long. He buried himself inside me all the way and let out an animalistic grunt, thrusting back and forth so hard that my whole body rocked and the bed creaked. Then he spanked me a few times until the skin on my butt stung -- he knows how much I like this -- and I let out a cry that echoed off the walls of our otherwise silent room, and then wheezed in a raspy breath through the sheet. He suddenly pulled away. I felt so empty, and instinctively started to wiggle my butt and arch my back to try and tempt him to keep fucking me. But he just found my hand and squeezed it hard, leaned over me and said, "I love you so fucking much," with adoring intensity and warmth. Then he followed it up with "Please suck my dick."

I love it when he tells me what he wants. I giggled and scooted off the bed, where he promptly sat, and then positioned myself between his legs and looked up at him through the holes in the white sheet. I knew I must look incredibly silly, but he was into it, and that meant I was too. I beamed my love-lights up at him and booped my ghost-nose against his cock, got into a comfortable position, and adjusted the sheet, which his rough fucking had scrunched up so that it was more loosely draped over me again.

I made a spooky "oooh" sound and pursed my carefully bubblegum-colored lips against his cockhead, which was wet with my own fluids as much as his, and parted them to slowly slurp him into my mouth. He moaned and rested his hand on my shoulder, his eyes falling half-lidded in pleasure as I started to lovingly bob my head up and down and massage and suckle on his cock with my mouth. I knew he was stressed, and I loved helping relieve that, so I was not at all disappointed when he almost instantly started to cum. He groaned and fell back on the bed and I felt his thigh quake against my shoulder while I continued to suck on him while his seed filled my mouth.

I swallowed and licked him clean and let my face rest against him for a long moment after, his balls against my chin and his slowly shrinking member up against my cheek and nose.

I got up to go clean myself up, but he sat up and grabbed me when I turned away from the bed, pulling me back into his lap. He started squeezing my little tits through the sheet. "Oh, what are these? Boo-bies?"

I was laughing but it also felt so good that my laugh turned into a moan. He kissed the top of my head and sat there playing with me for half an hour or so, sneaking a hand down between my thighs and keeping me riled up while he got aroused himself again. We didn't say much, partly because he had knocked all the wit out of me by teasing me so hard; I was a wet, gooey mess when he decided he felt up to the task and patted me on the thigh to get me to stand up. I obeyed and he squeezed and patted my butt twice then quickly pulled me back down toward him, using one hand to line his cockhead up with my pussy and the other to tug my hip to let me know to sit down atop it.

My knees were weak. I slid down onto him - and him up into me - so easily, so snugly, that I had to believe we were built to fit together exactly like that. My toes curled when he reached around to start playing with my clit while he rocked slightly to give me little mini-fucks. After only a few minutes of him treating me this way, I moaned and threw my head back against him, and started to cum.

He is a sympathetic cummer. It's one of my favorite things about him, and whenever I cum he always cums inside me. This was no exception, and I soon felt the warmth of him exploding into me, his trembling hand on my breast, his breath huffing hard against the thin sheet and cooling my slightly sweaty neck. He cuddled me from behind for a while after that.

I was glad to see him back to being cheerful the next day. Maybe making a genuinely spooky thing he went through into a silly and sexy thing helped, or maybe it was just reassuring him that I don't think he is a liar or an idiot, or maybe it was just really, really good sex. I don't know.

But that night, as we were preparing for bed, he said, "So, you know, there was this one time that I saw a zombie... I can't wait to fuck her next year."

So I think I am going to need to invest in a more complex outfit for that one.