You’re messing around on the piano in the ruined ballroom. It’s so badly out of tune it sounds like you’re playing under water. Constant mist has wrought havoc with the instrument… You’re convinced the stories about the place are bullshit, but it’s something to do – more just to say you’ve done it and come out unscathed than anything else. Smiling, you play “Chopsticks”. It sounds horrible, so you play a little louder. You assume the role: Mr. Genius debunking a myth. Just a silly local superstition. A lady haunts the abandoned mansion. She appears when the piano is played.
No one will appear. Ghosts aren’t real.
Your ears are still ringing a bit from the out of tune keys when you feel eyes upon you. Looking up, you see me in the doorway. A silvery blue scarf is wrapped around me. It’s large, reaching from my breastbone to the bottom of my knees, and completely see through. My feet are bare. Under the scarf I am nude. As I walk toward you, the scarf opens, letting you view my knee, my thigh, my pussy. I walk smoothly, apparently not noticing the cracked floor or the debris. My hair shines a muted red as if lit from within.
I am quite close to you now. I stop inches from your knee. In the moonlight, my skin is pale, almost taking on a bluish tint. Seated, your face is at the same level as my breast. You’re staring at my nipple. It’s erect. You’re distracted by my hand: it’s untying the scarf. You watch my body as the scarf slips away. You know it’s pooling at my feet, but you don’t want to look down.
Slowly, you lift your face, looking at my shoulders and neck, looking from my chin up to my eyes. Shivering, your eyes meet mine. You think I must have been looking at your eyes the whole time.
Wide and blue gray like a changeable sea, my eyes regard you. You can’t look away, even though the feeling is intense. My eyes hold your gaze evenly. Your cheeks must warm as you blush under my scrutiny.
“You’re not real,” you say. “This isn’t happening.”
Still holding your gaze, I bend forward as if to kiss you. My lips are full. Pouty.
You’re holding your breath. This is utter madness. I am not real. You won’t feel my touch – I’m not even as substantial as the mist outside. You’ve convinced yourself of a ghost story. You’ll be too embarrassed later to tell anyone.
You won’t feel anything.
You’re still holding your breath as my lips touch yours. A funny gasp escapes you as you realize how warm my lips are. Warm and moist and soft. I kiss you gently, sweetly, as if I knew you already. You feel your own lips soften against mine, and first one of your lips then the other is sucked between my lips, my tongue touching them lightly. My hands cradle your face, then slide around to the back of your head, which is tilted back now. Your skin is tingling. You don’t believe in me. Your mind is rejecting me, but your body is yearning for me. My tongue slips into your mouth, sliding past your teeth, over your tongue. My mouth fully open, I explore the inside of your mouth with my tongue. You suck my tongue.
Your breath ragged, you reach for me to pull me closer, but I step back.
“Don’t go!” you say.
I take another step backward. You stand up. I take another step, and you come toward me.
“Just tell me what you want. I’ll do it,” you say.
My lips smile, but I don’t speak. I come closer to you, looking you in the eye and holding out my hand. You take my hand, and I lead you from the room.
Outside on the balcony, I lie naked on the smooth stones. I look so vulnerable there. You take a knee beside me. You’re thinking of how you can convince me to get up and go back inside. Winds moan through this ruined mansion, but at least it wouldn’t be as exposed inside the walls. You want to get me out of the night air and away from the misty waterfall you can hear. You take a look past the railing. You know there is a rocky drop. The balcony hangs over thin air. It’s best if you get me away from there. You put an arm under me –
I wriggle my hips and pull you close to me by your shirt. Your purpose forgotten, you end up crushing your lips to mine as I unbutton your shirt, my fingers like wild little snakes. Your shirt is open. You can feel the cold air, but you’re so hot you don’t care. Those wild fingers touch you all over the chest, going further down, ending at your belt buckle. You pull up for a moment, your hands working the buckle yourself. In seconds, your pants are unzipped and pulled down.
You can’t figure out how I did it, and it really doesn’t matter – you find you are naked on your back on the balcony, and my lips are traveling over your body. I kiss one nipple then the other. I lick and nibble your skin, then I nibble your nipples so delicately. You shake from the sensation. My lips close over your left nipple and I suck it with quick, tiny pulses. Your hands tangle in my hair.
Covering your torso with hot kisses, I put my hand around your cock. It’s getting hard. My hand is so soft as I touch it, you can’t help groaning. I touch the head of your cock to my face, the contact whispery soft – I look up at your face while I kiss it. My expression is nothing short of reverent. You watch me open my lips and slide them over the head. The world has grown silent around us. All you hear is the blood rushing in your head. The stone is cold and hard beneath you, my mouth soft and hot upon you. I take more of your cock into my mouth, eventually putting my lips all the way to the base. You groan again as I suck harder. My hands are on your hips, stroking your skin. My head moves up and down, my lips gobbling you then releasing you. I pull your cock out of my mouth and kiss the underside of the shaft, right below the head, running my tongue in little circles.
I let go of you and sit up. My eyes are pearls, blue gray pearls, and you cannot read them. I make as if to stand.
“Wait,” you say.
You reach for me. I take your hand and guide it to my pussy. You draw a line along the cleft with one finger before parting them and looking for my clit. You watch my face as you find it, a warm, hard little button, slippery with my juices. My pale skin is now flushed, my cheeks a pretty pink. You play first with my clit, then tickle the inner lips. My body shudders. Your fingers are wet.
“Sit on my face,” you say, pulling me and lying back down on the stone.
For a moment you think I will balk, but I crawl over your body. I put one knee on each side of your head. With both hands, you open my pussy lips.
“Come closer,” you say. “Sit right on my face.”
My pussy is inches from your lips, and then you make contact, your lips surrounding my clit, your tongue licking it. My body shudders with every flick of your tongue. You let go of my pussy lips and slide your hands around my ass to hold onto me – my hips are rocking, and you don’t want to let go of my clit.
As I ride your face, my hands are in your hair, tangled in your hair. You bring your hand around so you can slip a finger into my pussy. You put a second finger in.
I pull away. I’m crawling off of you and standing up.
“What’s wrong?” you want to know. “Tell me what you want.”
I turn and walk toward the rail. What is on my mind? I put my hands on the rail as if I am sightseeing. You come closer, and I turn back toward you. You can see my chest rise with every breath. There are goose bumps on my arms. I’m trembling – it’s so subtle a tremor you almost missed it. You touch my nipple, the left one, watching my face, your breath heavy.
I perch on the rail, my knees wide open, my pussy open, my hands beside me on the rail, my head thrown back. Knowing it is absolutely the worst decision you could make, you stand between my legs. Your hands are on the rail next to mine, on each side of me as you maneuver your cock to my pussy. It’s hot and very wet. You thrust in, feeling how I clasp you from inside, how I milk you as you move. Your hands are clenched on the rail, your ass pistoning – my breasts bounce as you pound me. You move your hips down and forward to make deeper contact. I lean further back, my arms and legs straining, my hips pushing my pussy toward you.
You hear a creaking sound, the sound metal makes before it gives way. Still fucking me, you look at the post nearest us. The bolts holding the railing to the post break and we fall. My legs wrap around you convulsively as you grab for my hips.
Falling, we are still connected, your cock inside me. In mid air, we turn. I’m on top of you as we fall, my red hair spreading in the air, my pussy milking you. My hair almost looks like wings. As you look on in amazement, it seems my hair grows, flapping, turning silver in the moonlight.
It’s not my hair, you realize. Wings are holding us up. Great white wings. We are gliding, mating in the air. Your hands hold my hips tight and still. My pussy is gripping you in tight, quick spasms. You want to touch my breasts, but you can’t let go of my hips – your fingers dig into me. It’s too close now, you can’t unclench your hands. You feel the first waves pour through you – you’re about to come. The first spurt comes from so deep, your belly hurts. Then another and another. You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s too intense. Eyes closed, you come inside me, suspended in air, enveloped in mist.
When you can open your eyes again, you realize you’re lying on wet grass. I am sitting atop you, my hair and skin damp. With a start, you realize you can see stars through me. I am fading.
“No!” you say. “Don’t go!”
I smile at you, a bright, happy smile. Then, leaning toward you, my face nearing yours, I disappear into you.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bj9mnr/disappearing_mf_ghost