Haunted Skin: An Erotic Ghost Story (Gay Paranormal Erotica)
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Even after a year together, Brian is still surprised by his lover Gabe's sense of adventure... but he wasn't expecting a restless spirit to intervene during their romantic weekend getaway. They find their limits tested when the ghost takes their kinky play much too seriously. This 6500 word short story is for adults only. More
Even after a year together, Brian is still surprised by his lover Gabe's sense of adventure... but he wasn't expecting a restless spirit to intervene during their romantic weekend getaway. They find their limits tested when the ghost takes their kinky play much too seriously.
Warning: This explicit 6500 word short story is intended for adults only. Contains a romantic gay couple, explicit oral and anal sex, bdsm, bondage, flogging, a ghost that doesn’t understand safe words, and a phantasmal threesome (mmm) you won’t forget!
As Gabe leveraged our heavy suitcase through the hotel room doorway, I slipped my calloused hand inside the waistband of his pants. My fingers traced the contour of his lower back, before inching their way toward the smooth curve of his ass. He reached back and squeezed the bulge in my pants as he turned his head. A devilish smile played on his lips in contrast to his golden good looks.
“Don’t give yourself blue balls, Brian. I’m still gonna make you wait.” His voice was gently mocking and yet promised some devious master plan.
This hotel had been his idea, but I still thought it was a strange place to celebrate our first year together. I would have preferred a beach in Hawaii, but since that was financially out of reach, I’d humored him and agreed to spend the weekend at a “haunted” hotel. A weekend alone with him is a luxury, no matter where we spend it, I reminded myself.
“Well don’t wait too long.” I grinned back. “Or I might just decide to jerk off and fall asleep.”
“What makes you think I’d let you?” He groped me lightly through my jeans, then turned back to the suitcase, jostling it through the doorway.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” I withdrew my hand, landed a playful slap on his ass, then followed behind him into the room.
The interior was a caricature of a Victorian suite dominated by a massive four poster canopy bed, set against garish red walls. A marble-faced fireplace in the corner was flanked by two ornate, wood trimmed leather chairs and an ottoman. A large TV panel hung above the fireplace, completely mismatched to the fake-vintage style. The room was larger than I’d expected, and also more gimmicky. If Disneyland had a whorehouse, this would be it.
For all his overly-educated intellectualism and occasional arrogance, Gabe was charmingly naive sometimes. I watched his dark blonde hair fall across his striking blue eyes as he rifled through the suitcase, a serious look on his face. I’d never know how they sold him on the haunted house routine, but I decided I didn’t care.
“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “You’ll wait, right?” His normal self-assurance seemed uncharacteristically shaken.
“Of course.” I said, wondering at his sudden disquiet. I sat down on the monstrous bed, worried for a moment that if I lay back, it might swallow me. “I won’t disappear.”
He moved forward and kissed me roughly, his tongue searching for mine, his hands pressed on my knees. I could sense tension written in in his lean, muscular frame. I ran my hands along his back, feeling his body yield under my fingers, and the stress begin to ebb away. My chest was tight, my pants tighter; I could barely breathe. Goddamn, it’s been a year and he still does this to me. I savored the thought with amazement.
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