Eve Langlais - A Ghostly Ménage

Though it was only a fantasy, she wondered what making love to two men at once would feel like.

“No,” gasped one of her dream lovers. “Derrick, stop. We have to tell her more before it’s too late.”

Too late for what? She was consumed with aching, unfulfilled need as they rolled away from her and helped her stand on shaky feet.

Jenna blinked at them dazedly, not understanding why her subconscious made them stop. It’s my dream. Why the fuck aren’t they making love to me? I can tell they want to. Their erections stood proudly from their groins and she reached out to touch one, only to have it move back out of reach. A distressed sound came out of her lips. She was so damned horny. Why wouldn’t they let her play?

“Jenna, sweetheart. Please, you have to listen. I promise when we get our bodies back we’ll make love to you until you can’t walk, but right now you have to listen.”

Jenna crossed her arms over her chest. “And if I don’t want to listen? This is my dream. Maybe I’ll just wake myself up and finish what you started.”

That got their attention. Their jaws literally dropped.

“She is so fucking made for us,” said Derrick in a thick voice.

“Yes, she is,” agreed Mark. “Now listen, Jenna. You’re going to have to look up witch spells and find one that can put somebody in limbo.”

“And just where am I supposed to find a spell? I don’t exactly have a little black book of spells, you know.”

“Google it, “said Mark dryly. “Then find out how to reverse it.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Okay. Whatever.”

Mark was the one to grab her this time. “I’m serious, sweetheart. This isn’t a dream. Well it is, but my brother and I are quite real. Kind of. Damn it, just do it.”

“Great, my dream is being haunted by horny brothers.”

“We’re not real ghosts. Could a real ghost do this?” Derrick leaned in and nipped her neck hard.

The pain woke Jenna and unlike her previous dreams, this one remained quite vivid-from the conversation with the Wolfgang brothers right down to the feel of their erect cocks pressing against her.

“Make me horny, will you,” she muttered throwing off the comforter. She shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and underwear and spread her legs wide.

“I hope you’re watching,” she said. Then she touched herself.

Derrick dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and watched Jenna masturbate. He wasn’t the only dumbfounded one. Mark couldn’t resist the show either and knelt beside him.

He wasn’t sure when he began to stroke his cock in time to her rubs over her clit. He was hypnotized at the way she pleasured herself, her nimble fingers touching her slick flesh, her moisture just begging for a hot tongue. Derrick pumped his shaft and moved to sit between her legs.

“What are you doing?” asked Mark hoarsely.

“Getting off. You should do the same.” He continued to work his cock right over the quickening movements of her hand. Her face was beautiful, her eyes shut and her mouth open, panting.

“Come for me baby,” he crooned, not caring if she could hear him. He knew she was close; he could see it in her face and in the tenseness of her body. For the first time, a hand job wasn’t enough. He wanted to pretend for one moment that he was buried inside her.

When she thrust her pelvis up on the brink of her orgasm, he pumped his ghostly cock forward and penetrated her with his spiritual flesh.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes, and for a moment, Derrick could have sworn she saw him. Then she came with a keening cry, and insubstantial as he was, the pressure of her release around his ghostly cock was enough to make him come too.

Oh, fuck. If she can affect me like this even in limbo, it’s going to be insane when I finally get to touch her in person.

The next morning, accompanied by a constant cold freeze as she dressed, showered, and ate breakfast, Jenna couldn’t stop thinking of the dream-and the aftermath.

My imagination. It has to be. I don’t believe in ghosts and magic. But trying to believe that was becoming difficult because, even if one ignored the ghostly caresses on her skin, she could no longer ignore the doors that swung open at her approach, the picture frames that rattled, the drapes that fluttered, and the myriad other poltergeist-type acts.

What about when it felt like one of them fucked me last night while I was masturbating? She must have still been asleep when she imagined it.

She decided to go on as if she hadn’t had the freakiest dream and night ever. But the ghosts she didn’t believe in wouldn’t stop bugging her. The third time she felt a cold swipe at her groin, she threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll Google it. You happy now?”

No one replied, but a tingly air-kiss on her neck made her skin goose pimple and her nipples poke holes through her t-shirt.

She booted up her laptop on the dining room table and typed in ‘witch spell’.

“Holy fuck. 3,010,000 results.” That was about three million nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine more than she wanted. She needed to fine-tune her search, so she added the word limbo and only got ninety thousand four hundred entries. She twiddled with the search terms and became engrossed in her research, amazed at the amount of websites devoted to witchcraft.

On a whim, she typed in “witch Twin Dales”. To her surprise, a listing came up for a shop in the town itself. She clicked onto the website and found an online store for all types of witchy items from charms to potions and more. She looked at the contact info and stared at the picture of the blonde ice queen she’d bumped into. Clarissa Mayweather.

Crap. It figured the bitch she’d run into was the one person in town she really needed to talk to. Her curiosity was completely roused though, so like her or not, she was the closest witch around. Jenna shut down the laptop and grabbed a jacket. She opened the door, but a cold wind pulled it out of her hands and slammed it shut.

“What the fuck!” She glared around looking for ghostly culprits that she didn’t believe in. Not believing didn’t stop her from getting mad. “You asked me to find a solution to your problem so why the hell aren’t you letting me follow through?” No one answered of course. She grabbed the door handle and pulled. At first she met some resistance, but flesh and blood were no match for an overactive imagination, and she managed to wrench it open and stalk outside where the late afternoon warmth dispelled the chill of inside.

“Men.” She snorted. “Even dead, they just can’t make up their minds.”

Derrick and Mark watched from the window with matching appalled faces as she drove into town to meet the witch who’d banished them.

“Fuck, this is bad,” said Derrick. In a fit of rage and impotence, he punched the wall, ineffectively since his hand went right through the plaster.

“We forgot to warn her,” said Mark, disgust in his tone. “I let myself get distracted and now she’s walking straight into danger.”

“We’re both guilty of that. If she makes it back, we need to visit her dream again tonight and tell her of the danger she’s in.”

The waiting might have killed them if they’d had real bodies. Their little mate was about to unknowingly beard the dragon in its den, and they both feared for her safety.

* * * * *

Jenna parked in front of the witchcraft store. Like the other establishments on the main street, it had a certain nostalgic charm with its large, plate glass window decorated with Halloween witches on brooms. She opened the ornate wooden door replete with a bell that tinkled as she entered.

Inside, a medley of smells from heavy incense to pungent herbs overwhelmed her. Stones of all sizes and colors glittered in bins and hung on chains, while labeled vials of different colored liquid lined the shelves. A curtain at the back parted and the proprietress stepped forth.

Clarissa appeared shocked to see Jenna, a reaction she quickly hid behind a smile of greeting that never made it to her eyes. “Well, if isn’t our newest town resident. How can I help you today?”

“Hi. Sorry about the run-in the other day. My name is Jenna, by the way.”

“You may call me Clarissa.”

You may call me Clarissa? She’d twisted what should have been a friendly greeting into pure condescension. But Jenna wasn’t here to make a friend; she needed information-and possibly an exorcism. Bolstered by the evidence of the arcane around her, Jenna blurted, “I think I’m being haunted.”

Perfect brows arched high. “Really? And what makes you think that?”

Jenna blushed. She hadn’t meant to say that. After all, she didn’t believe in ghosts. But she’d run out of excuses for what kept happening to her. At one point when the impossible was the only thing left…

“I know it sounds crazy, but ever since I moved into that house, weird things have been happening.”

“Tell me more.” Clarissa’s eyes glittered and Jenna hesitated. “It’s all right, Jenna. I’ve had a feeling about that house for years. I mean, the boys were never found, so it only stands to reason their spirits would haunt the place.”

“I never said it was them.” And she definitely wouldn’t be mentioning the naughty things they did to her in her dreams.

“It makes the most sense,” said Clarissa shrugging. “No one else in their family ever died a violent death or went missing. Why don’t you tell me what those ghosts have been up to?”

Maybe it was because she was glad to tell the story to someone who didn’t think she was crazy, or the fact that Clarissa didn’t call the loony bin, but Jenna unburdened all the inexplicable things that had occurred from the cold drafts to the opening doors to the moving objects. However, she couldn’t bring herself to tell her about the dream and erotic touches. That was a little too bonkers even for her, and interested and friendly as Clarissa seemed now, Jenna didn’t quite trust her. Something about her just seemed off.