The Ghost Light Haunting (A Dark Ghost/Paranormal Erotica)
Ashley isn't a believer in the paranormal in the least, but when her co-worker Chris asked her to join his ghost hunting group a year back she decided to join up. Now the group's cameraman, she comes along on a routine investigation only to be caught in an experience she can only deem as horrifingly erotic when a ghostly thing--a tentacle--bursts in and works one of their members to orgasm. More
Ashley isn't a believer in the paranormal in the least, but when her co-worker Chris asked her to join his ghost hunting group a year back she decided to join up. Now the group's cameraman, she comes along on a routine investigation only to be caught in an experience she can only deem as horrifingly erotic when a ghostly thing--a tentacle--bursts in and works one of their members to orgasm.
To make it worse, it's dark in the house and there's a buzz in the back of her head, aching, pulsing, pushing. Chris knows that something's up when he catches her with her hand down her pants in light of the spirit "attacking" them, but only Ashley knows that another member, Mia, is infected with something. That same thing that's making her wet between the legs. They both are, and Ashley's only hope of making it out without orgasming lies in exploring the house's depths and finding out what horrific, startlingly erotic thing await them in the dark.
Warning: This dark ghost story involves a tentacle handjob, girl on girl oral sex, an experience with a ghost and a building plot that will both grip you and get you off.
The buzz roared to life, the heat under her skin flaring up. A green light passed through the wall but Ashley was half-gone. Her pussy was wet to the point of dripping. She was unbuttoning her pants, shimmying them down over her hips when the light flared and engulfed her.
When it faded, she stood face to face with a translucent figure. A ghost. The ghost of Ghost Light Road. He stood before her, dressed in tight fitting jeans and a t-shirt. Leather boots stood out at the fraying boot-cut hem of his denim. He looked like the actor from Rebel Without A Cause, his classic good looks soft in the glowing light. There was the thrum of a motorcycle rumbling somewhere underneath the house.
She realized what the light was, but he was on her before she could piece everything together. His nose bumped hers. He smelled good, clean, woodsy, like some cologne far off and forgotten.
The ghost pressed her back down onto the sofa. He took one foot and then the other into his hands, ridding her of socks and sneakers, pulling the legs of her jeans from her. She kissed him, although she could see through him, her eyes barely open. He was solid to her touch, warm underneath her fingertips despite the cold feeling in the room.
Ashley wanted to think no, to say no, but his lips nudged hers apart. She opened her mouth to him, opened her legs for him. The ghost found her clit and she gasped, arching her back. She cooed as he knuckled her pearl, making her shudder and jump under his touch. His lips traipsed under her chin, kissing and nipping at her neck.
She pushed him down. One of his hands came up along her side, burning her. He was almost too hot, hotter than her body felt. His knuckle twisted over her and she gasped again.
"Keep doing that," she whispered. Her stomach fluttered as he repeated the action, bumping up against her pearl.
His free hand crept up her side, thumbing the cup of her bra. He made a disapproving sound in his throat at it, pushing his thumb into the fabric. Ashley reached around her back to unhook it and it popped off of her breasts with a snap. The ghost's mouth came down on her, running over the exposed tops of her tits. He bit and licked at her, his knuckle dragging down against her pussy.