Learning sex lessons with the Ghost Girl

“Here,” she said, pointing to her crotch. I moved slow, not wanting to take my eyes from this topless woman sitting under me. Her breasts were the better part of a c-cup, 38’s she had told me, each nipple covered judiciously by a strip of black vertical ribbon connected to the thigh-high black boots she was wearing. Tracing my gaze to her triangle I spied just a whisper of chestnut curl peeking from her snug G-string. From what I could see of her ass it looked delicious as ever and as I knelt to get my mouth to her covered pussy I smelled only slightest hint of her sex in the tight air. “Here,” she repeated as I placed my open mouth on her mound and she squiggled up into me. “Do it well and you will be rewarded,” she cooed as I licked at the soft material, pacing myself for when I’d very soon move it aside and get into her sex. “Do it bad and I’ll have to punish you.” Who was she, why was she here, were questions I asked myself often these wild Friday nights. But answers I didn’t much care for as I teethed the material of the G-string, managed it to the side and began to lap at her wet thick lips. “Very very good,” she sighed from someplace above me. “Go ahead,” she suggested and I reached under my naked belly to take my raging hard cock in hand. “You are sooo good at thissss,” she purred as I buried my mouth into her briny thick lips, attacked her clit with my tongue. My chin at the recoil of the G-string I kept the right side of her pussy uncovered as I licked. It was all I could do to steady my mouth as I pumped my cock through my fist. “Urm,” she said as I licked at just the topper-most nub of her rock clit. “Urm,” she repeated, bringing her legs up and her heels to my back. “Ur…..” she sighed as I held onto her, she arched her ass to me and I felt my balls tighten as the come filled my pulsing vein. “Yes!” she screamed as I flatted my tongue onto that hard flick of muscle. She shook her pussy to the pressure, I clenched my ass and we came together. “Now stand so I can get to your ass,” she said, leaning back in my cloth recliner a minute later. I stood slowly, dripping cock in hand to obey like I always did.

I didn’t really get back to sitting properly until Sunday night. The relentlessness of her fisting left me a bit sore, but the three erections she coaxed out of me-and her pleasure over them-were worth the pain and humiliation. That she knows me so well without ever asking my limits, never inquiring about my wants makes my blood run deeper and hotter then her mouth on my cock when she kneels to hug my ass and push the dildo in deeper. That we have found one another at all is a blessing, that she isn’t real a curse that would kill me if it didn’t keep me so alive!

She first came to me a year ago almost to the day, on a Friday night like ever other. I had just returned from a night of barhopping with my buddies. Given the fact that I don’t drink all that much and dance even less, my ‘hopping’ usually consists of leaning on a bar or sitting at a table and trying to catch as many women in my stare as possible. Blessed with the ability to bullshit, a rather strong chin and what I have been told are piercing blue eyes, on many occasions I do meet women, gain a allowed a phone number, even attempt to dance. But most nights I leave a bar with the friends I have come with, as I did the night in question. And although I was a bit horny, I flicked off my smoke-drenched clothes, turned on the t.v. in my attic room and hoped not to wake my parents. At first I thought I was dreaming. Suddenly there stood a woman at the side of my futon! “Mark,” she said, smiling down at me. I stood as she took a step back. She was wearing a long blue coat, but it fell to her ankles as she literally flicked it off her shoulders in one fluid movement. It was as if she was peeling the thing off herself, as if it was a move she had made only for me but had practiced all her life. She stood there then in a red corset, fanning and fitted to her voluptuous form, ending just at her belly button. I took my time regarding her, as she seemed to want me have do. She was naked from the waist down, a trim thin triangle of brown public hair tickling my stare. Her long white legs ended in what I imagined were, at the very least, three-inch red heels. I finally looked up. Her skin was porcelain, or so it seemed. She had a wide smiling face, small grey-green eyes and a slight scar over her right full lip. Her nose was long but perfect. Atop her head and cascading to her creamy shoulders sat a mess of loose chocolate-colored curls. Quite simply, she was a vision. “It’s time you and I met,” she said and moved past me to position herself on all fours on my bed! I was transfixed by her ease, the squeak of my futon, her white round ass in my face! “Get used to kissing it baby,” she cooed from over her shoulder. “You’re gonna be doing it for a long long time.” I did and have been ever since.

What can you ask for at twenty-one? It would be nice to admit I have had experiences to brand me a great lover…I have not. It would be wonderful to look back on encounters that could rival the Friday nights with her…I cannot. It would even be nice to have some knowledge of science fiction so I could start to explain, at least to myself, what she really is, but I don’t read all that much. All I know of her is what she has told me and that is very little.

“I am here because you need me to be and I want to be,” she said, as I lay across her lap, face-up and naked. Again she ran the flat of her palm up the side of popping erection. “But I’m just dreaming you, right?” I asked. “Does this feel like a dream?” she replied, bent her head and began to suck the tip of my cock until I bounced up and down on her naked thighs. “You don’t need to understand this,” she said a minute later, upright and smiling down at me again. “Just enjoy me as I enjoy you… “…and learn,” she added, cupping her right hand around my penis, the other reaching down to pull my balls ever so slightly.

“Learn.” That word stays with me most, and still arouses me a year on. That she is beautiful, available even before I call her (or realize I need her), skilled yet demanding makes her a dream I know I cannot have sleeping. That she is certainly a hallucination or at the very best a fantasy that I have created real frightens me…but not enough that I’ll ever ask her to stop coming. That I am ‘learning’ from her at every swat of her open palm across my ass (how my parents don’t hear I have no idea); every muted inch of dildo up me; those sweated smothering seconds when suckling her breasts keeps me knowing that I need her beyond reason. Do we all have this power to make real what we need? Am I lucky? Am I cursed? I know when the cold air of day touches my face she is still with me. What we shared, even if it is her leading, colors my daylight moves. I engage ‘real’ women now with a confidence I have never managed before and if I’m not exactly acting on all these new flirtations at least I feel the potential to do so. I am a new man at twenty-one or maybe I am only actually beginning to be a man at all. As the old adage states (slanted to meet my gender bias): ‘so many women but so little time.’ Of course though I will have to find the time around these Friday nights and all the learning that still needs to be done.