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Sex with a Ghost

Blurb of Sex with a Ghost

He studied her face more closely, and a picture of her started to emerge in his head. Could this be the same woman he had sex with earlier in the day?

Every hair on his body became grey in an instant, and his heart began to race. However, ghosts can’t have sex with living people. So how did it happen?

Discover the shocking conclusion to their most seductive and exciting experience.

Sex with a Ghost Chapter 1

“Good morning, brothers and sisters in the lord!” The middle-aged man dressed in a dirty grey suit with a big bible shouted moments after he got into the bus. He seemed to be drunk with the word of the Lord and little wine.

At the rear end of the luxurious bus sat Heaven – a pretty young lady, with a burnish complexion. Her feelings were hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crinkle of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes reflected her soul, and in it was an ocean of sorrows.

For the first time since she entered the bus, she raised her head to take a really hard long look at the strange preacher.

In split seconds, she examined him and drew up a conclusion – he must be a jobless man, probably with five children and a wife. This morning, he woke up, dug up that suit which has no current relationship with a pressing iron, dusted his bible, off he went to the nearest bus station waiting for the arrival of this bus.

In about fifteen minutes, he would rant and rave, gesticulating wildly, telling them about the love of Christ, His healing power, unfailing protection and His reward of everlasting life which He will only give if first, we give Him our lives. He would then pray with velocity, energy and a pious sincerity that could melt even the most stubborn atheist’s icy heart carefully choosing his words.

Before going into the real business where he would then call on a lady who has paid undivided attention to his sermon, asking her to collect offerings, even tithe from everyone. Nothing is too small and your token will enable the church to move to a permanent site.

A thin smile appeared on her lips, staring straight at the preacher, she murmured

“Fake pastor! I decoded those tricks a long time ago. If your God is that good, how come you are this wretched? I want nothing to do with such god”.

After a long hiss, already feeling simmering anger in her chest, she slowly rests her head against the seat in front sinking back into her thoughts.

Heaven is heartbroken, filled to the brim with regret and remorse. She has given up on life, love, and even God. Attempted suicide twice but lack the balls to go through with it. Every ounce of her wished she had the nerve to swing her body off the top of a building; to walk deep into the depths of the ocean and stay down under; to take a gun and place the cool metal down her throat, pulling the trigger, shooting away the pain.

Everything has fallen apart, nothing holds any longer. She is just twenty-four but soon she will be counting days to the end of her life that just began. Everything that once brought her pleasure now brings only misery and untold pain. Why did it happen to her? How could love be this wicked? How could just one mistake lead to such grave disaster?

She is in so much emotional pain and it doesn’t hurt as a cut or a bruise would. It is just this heavy feeling. Her head spins and the only explanation she can sum up for the pain is how she is the cause. All that does is bring even more pain.

A headache started in the back of her skull, pounding, warning her she wouldn’t like what she found. She fought her thoughts backwards, pushing through to remember the cause of this emotional pain.

Her life took a drastic turn about six months ago. In a bus just like this one, she sat next to Peter – a fine-looking young man with a great body and adventurous personality. His face strong and defined; his features moulded from granite. He had brown eyes, dark eyebrows, which slid downwards in a serious expression. He had prominent cheekbone, a well-defined chin, and nose. He was on a stunning outfit. At the sight of him, she miraculously fell under his spell. The feeling was so strong and beyond her control. After she tried everything within her power to get his attention and failed.

She bit her lip, how would she start a conversation with someone she just met? Then in that instant he turned and caught her eye; before she could turn away bashfully a genuine grin appeared across his face, turning it from handsome to divine. At that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a person she wants to know more. This was a guy she could love forever.

When he said “Hi, my name is Peter!” a playful smile cut a hard line across his face. He had the most magnificent voice – soft and low, each syllable articulated, with flowing rhythm and inflexion that was almost musical with a hypnotic effect. Her heart fluttered as a million butterflies zipped inside her stomach. He seemed to like and found her interesting as a few minutes afterwards both of them were laughing and giggling like children; resulting in a stare all over the bus.

It was as if time and space became the finest point imaginable; as if time collapsed into the tiny speck and exploded at light speed. From that very moment, every other person or thing faded into the background. All that mattered was the handsome devil beside her.

Later that night, she pondered his words, recalling little in particular that he had said because he never said anything concrete, but rather the special feeling it had given her. She pictured him smiling at her, exposing those perfect white teeth through his pale and thin kissable lips.

The way he looked at her, with his eyes boring into her soul, filled with desire and lust. The way his rough and hard palm wandered around her body, from her shoulders to her laps almost into her bosom. He was imprudent, witty and incredibly bold with hands quicker than safe. He praised her qualities so fulsomely that she blushed.

He said all the right things in the perfect way; certainly, a love affair with him will be adventurous, one with pure pleasure, an exciting brush with danger and this trills her.

Having being raised in a good Christian family with a strict and overprotective father who locked her up while growing up, preventing her from any form of adventure as a child and teenager. This resulted in an inner yearning for a little adventure and danger. She wanted to be free of the constraints of virtue and decency. Someone to take the wheel; own and possess her and Peter seem not to have the fear of God. He would free those repressed desires that cry out for liberation.

It was as though he never left like he was there in the room with her; mentally not physically. He was all in her head like a song stuck on replay. She lay on her bed rolling from side to side; she couldn’t catch any Z’s.

Is she in love already? But that’s not right, love is supposed to take time, probably develop from friendship. Love at the same time is crazy and always out of control; she was crazy about him and her love for him way out of control. Is she thinking with the ready wet V in-between her legs?

This feeling is so strange, stretching throughout her body. Overwhelming, yet makes her complete. It has no bound nor length nor depth, just absolute. Feels as though she is in a furious fire, yet completely safe at the same time; as though her heart is dancing around her chest; and a hole she was never aware was there, has been filled.

It’s strange; frightening even; how can he go from a complete stranger to someone giving her such intense feeling in just a day. Was it just a crush? She has had many of those and none felt this way. Isn’t she acting like an infatuated girl; acting all loosed but the heart wants what it wants and doesn’t care?

She woke up the next morning to meet the most romantic text from him. In it, he offered her praises that would make the heart of any woman melt like butter icing on a sunny day. He was seducing her in all the right ways and right places, she knows this but loves it.

He was an artist creating the illusion she required, reflecting her fantasy and idealizing her portrait. He had somehow within a day made himself her ideal lover. After all, it was more about her love for him not his for her.

A week passed, with the love, lust, passion growing with such grave intensity; as Peter – the heartless seducer seduced her further with romance and burning s****l desire. She could no longer wait to possess his body, to have her hands caress his smooth flawless skin all the way down to that dark region and to have his lips locked with hers in a deep passionate kiss.

Finally, an opportunity to bring her fantasy to reality presented itself when Peter called and asked her over. In the most innocent of tones, without thinking she agreed. It was a date – they are to meet in a hotel around seven pm the day after the next day.

Heaven didn’t bother to ask why it was a hotel and not his place. Even if it was a rat hole, she was ready, willing to go there with him. His impetuous words, the fantasy, and danger of it all – her head was whirling, she was lost. What were virtue and her prior boredom compared to an evening with this handsome devil?

Immediately, he dropped the call, he credited her bank account with sufficient amount of money to cover all her expenses. What could be more seductive?

Sex with a Ghost Chapter 2

Heaven arrived at the hotel some minutes past the agreed time. Inside, her eyes almost came out off their sockets in surprise and wonder. The hotel was huge, its architecture and designs amazing like one of those hotels she saw in the movies. The air cold and filled with a strong smell of a rose flower. The tiles on the floor were polished, cleaned that it reflected her image. The ceiling far from reach, beautifully decorated with fine burnished wood. Beautiful flower verses with African ancient drawings were placed at strategic corners of the reception.

Lost at the middle, looking around, her eyes met that of the receptionist in glasses who flashed a welcoming smile. As she walked straight to the pretty lady she wondered why receptionists are always on glasses. Before she could provide an answer to the thought she was in front of her.

“This place is marvellous,” she said returning her smile.

“Thanks”. Then she raised her glasses up before saying “You look amazing in that blue tea-gown” with a weak grin on her lips.

Heaven blushed, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you… I thought no one noticed”.

”I certainly did. I am Mercy and what can I do for you this beautiful evening?”

“I am here to see my boyfriend Peter” she smiled. It felt really good to finally call him that for the first time.

“Mr Peter has booked a room?” Mercy asked with eyes pinned on the computer screen in search for his name.


“Please, what is his second name? I have more than one Mr Peter here” she removed her stare from the computer and rested them on her. Heaven forced a smile and quickly buried her face in her handbag. It dawned on her that she doesn’t know her said boyfriend’s surname.

“Just a moment please,” she said through her teeth. She hurriedly brought out her phone, went to the credit alert but to her disappointment, it was just the account number of the creditor that was displayed. She was about calling him when she heard Mercy asking “When did he book the room?”

“I really don’t know but it should be today”

“Alright, then he must be Mr Peter Solomon. He booked online by 3 pm today”.

“Yes”, she said nodding like a lizard that just fell off an Iroko tree. “Solomon is his surname”.

“If he is the one, then it is room sixty-six and this is the door card”. The receptionist handed over the card to her. “It is on the last floor, the last room on your left”.

“Thank you very much”

“You are welcome. And hey; he shouldn’t forget this night in a hurry” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Heaven giggled “We won’t in a lifetime, I will make sure of that,” she said slowly cat-walking away. If only she knew how true those words were.

She got to the room, slid the card through the slot, the door went sideways. Inside, it came back together. She stopped dead in stunned silence, marvelling at the beauty, size and the luxuriousness of the room. It was far bigger than the living room of her parents. The room was like a perfect magazine cover with bright colours on the wall. The bed was king-sized with pure white Egyptian cotton sheets.

Above the bed, hanging on the wall was a black and white photograph of a nude pretty lady with warm and welcoming eyes. She sat on a handless chair with legs wide open, a red guiltier to cover her privates and dark stars covering her n*****s. Opposite on the wall hung a forty-inch flat-screen Television.

On the other side of the room was a sprawling leather sofa with a burnished glass stool in front of it. On the stool was a little collection of wines, champagnes with wine glasses for two. The room was clean to the point of sterility. The white curtains were linen, the kind of white that is not touched by hands and free of dust. The floor covered in finished tile, dark and free of either dust or clutter.

Marc Antony’s “You are my Angel” played softly in the background with the scent of cilantro in the cold air. She shuddered to think about how much it might cost a night.

She fell, sinking into the bed and didn’t move for a few minutes, instead just imagining how it would be to have s*x on such a bed and cosy room. Done fantasying, she called Peter informing him that she was in the room lying naked and wet, awaiting his return. That, sure enough, will make him hurry up at whatever he was doing.

She went into the bathroom, had a really slow and nice shower, washing and shaving everything and everywhere properly. Came out from the bathroom with just a new red bra and a matching red panty – those not covering everything made with a net-like material and has a smooth feel. She slides back into the soft bed with a glass of champagne, tune down the air conditioner and turned on the TV.

At exactly twenty-six past eight pm, the door slides open again and Peter in his entire glory stepped in. He was in a dashing black suit with a red tie that matched her underwear. What a coincidence?

But Heaven was already angry, why will he keep her horny and waiting? No woman likes the combination of those. She refused to get up from the bed to welcome him and said nothing either.

Reading her facial expression he knew immediately he was in for a little trouble. Those that later ignite the fire of passionate love. He kept her waiting on purpose. This will keep her anticipating, which is a good thing.

“I’m really sorry baby, it was work and traffic. I didn’t mean to keep this goddess waiting” He said and fell on the bed, with the tip of his finger tardily brushing her right hand. She ignored him, acting up.

“I’m really sorry baby,” he said one more time making a face and drawing it closer to her lips.

“Alright; just go and take a shower. You smell of sweat and cigar”. She responded faking a smile. He was wrong to keep her horny and waiting but she wasn’t going to let that spoil the night. She has waited so long for this night.

“That’s my baby girl,” he said hurriedly giving her a wet peck on her right cheek.

Quickly, he undressed to just boxers and was heading to the bathroom when she grabbed his left hand, swiftly pulled him back to the bed and with all sexiness said

“If you don’t kiss me right now, I will never forgive you”.

Without taking another breath, he leaned closer and his mouth crushed down on hers. Warm lips moulded over hers, one hand tangled in her hair, the other reached low and splayed over the curve of her spine, and she did nothing to stop him, to allay the onslaught to her senses.

Instead, she closed her eyes and felt the wonder of his mouth, the gentle scratch of his goatee against her skin, the heat of his body against hers. His tongue slid easily past her teeth, the tip touching the ridges along the roof of her mouth as he tasted her, touched her. She kissed him back, her own tongue exploring this man of whom she knew so little, who irritated her not long ago.

The best fireworks in China didn’t stand a chance when compared to the display going off in her head at that moment. The kiss lasted for barely three minutes but its impact was felt all over her body. She had trouble drawing a breath, difficulty thinking and was only able to say “Wow”, blinking as though she has just awoken from a dream. A smile tardily appeared on Peter’s lips as he left for the bathroom without saying a word.

She fell back into the bed grinning, excited; she knew exactly what he was doing; she had played the game before. The ability to delay, not to give in totally, to keep your victim wanting more is the ultimate art of seduction. Anticipation is half the fun.

Author of Sex with a Ghost

Sex with a Ghost author Alexander White holds a degree in Educational Management and Economics. He loves the paranormal and thinks there is more to life than what the eye can see. He has more paranormal works like Sex with a Ghost 2 and Under the Full Moon. He is one of the popular authors on the Dreame platform.

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