Spirit Lovers 2 Read online

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ he cried, his naked body trembling from both pleasure and fear.

  ‘Michael, it’s OK,’ Alcina purred as she shimmered in and out of sight, her green eyes shining bright then dimming, then shining bright again. ‘It’s almost midnight. We’re turning back into our true form. We’re ghosts. We have no real bodies any more.’ Alcina tried to sooth him with her sweet voice.

  ‘Ghosts! You’re ghosts? You mean I’m fucking two dead chicks?’ he screamed at them and ran farther across the room to get away from them. He hovered against the wall staring at them as they flitted in and out of sight.

  ‘Michael, please calm down. There is nothing to be afraid of. We’re harmless. We only get the chance to become solid again once every 20 years on Halloween,’ explained Estra. ‘On that day we like to partake in as much of the pleasures of the flesh as possible.’

  Michael seemed to settle down a little as they explained; the soft soothing cadence of their voices calmed him. His cock was still rock hard and standing at attention as he stood there staring at the two very beautiful, naked, horny ghosts.

  ‘Please we only have a few more moments. Enjoy our bodies while we are still warm and solid before we disappear permanently,’ encouraged Estra.

  Michael’s cock still stood rigid, so he decided to go ahead and finish. He plunged into Estra then into Alcina, ravaging their bodies as they flickered in and out of the real world. The alternating of cold and warm bodies was driving his cock wild. One minute they were on fire, the next cold as ice. One second he was thrusting inside a flesh and blood body the next he was pushing into cold, cloudy air. Then Alcina’s pussy contracted around his rod, sucking and squeezing at it. She milked his cock until he exploded deep inside her once again warm and velvety folds. As he quivered and shook, she disappeared. Estra moaned, shimmered, then she too was gone. Michael could hear the town clock striking 12.

  He felt a ghostly touch graze his cheek; he turned and saw just an ethereal outline of Alcina. Her voice tinkled like wind chimes as she said, ‘Thank you for a wonderful Halloween, maybe we’ll see you again sometime.’ Estra’s voice came out of the darkness, ‘Goodbye Michael, it was a truly amazing evening.’ The room suddenly became very cold as a gust of wind blew through the windows. The clock struck the final chime of 12. Then everything was back to normal. He knew they were gone.

  Michael lay down on his bed trembling and touching his still hard pulsating cock. He couldn’t believe he had made love to two beautiful ghosts. Was there a better way to spend Halloween?

  Third Time Lucky

  by Kitti Bernetti

  ‘He was the most complete bastard. Why can’t you forget him?’

  I swallowed hard. ‘I am, gradually.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Three years ago it happened, on Valentine’s day of all days. Three years ago and here we are again, commemorating your humiliation outside the church where Brad jilted you.’ Liz’s pace quickened as we walked around the church. She kicked a stone. I could tell she was cross.

  True, I was obsessive about the break up with Brad. I started to apologise, poor Liz she’d heard it all before, ‘I always think this is the last time I’ll do this. The last time I’ll come back here and beat myself up about the whole Brad thing.’ We kept walking, round and round. The trouble was the church sort of drew me, like a magnet, every Valentine’s day. I peered at Liz from under my fringe. ‘Of course you know why Brad was so important to me.’

  Liz rolled her eyes. ‘I do Sally, how could I forget? You are the only one of my friends who clung to that mad old idea of being a virgin on their wedding night. Saving yourself. Hah.’ She scoffed, a jeering laugh which rang off the church walls, into the quiet tree-lined square.

  ‘It’s not such a stupid idea.’

  Liz stopped and stared in disbelief. ‘Don’t tell me you still haven’t had a man. You certainly don’t look like a virgin with your tight pencil skirts and your low cut tops. You are the limit, Sally.’ We walked a bit more, feeling the warmth of the sun fading but I could almost feel the heat coming off Liz as she grew more exasperated with me. ‘You do realise we’re going the wrong way around this church, we’re going anti-clockwise. It’s meant to be bad luck.’

  ‘Is there a wrong way to go round a church?’

  ‘Yes, there certainly is.’

  ‘OK, scaredy cat, what goes wrong if we do break your ridiculous rules?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’ Liz frowned. We were playing tit for tat now like two dopey kids arguing over nothing. ‘Something dire. My grandmother told me once. I remember now, you mustn’t do it three times or something.’

  ‘Rubbish. I dare you.’ I kept strolling on while she’d started to hold back.

  ‘I really don’t want to.’ Liz shivered I couldn’t believe she’d be taken in by stupid superstitions.

  ‘Oh come on. Nothing’s going to happen.’ I laughed. ‘There, we’ve passed the front door again. We’ve gone round two whole times. Let’s do it a third and see what we conjure up.’

  Liz stopped. ‘This is stupid.’ She crossed her arms in a huff. ‘You’re just doing this to scare me and stop me telling you the truth which is: you can’t keep hanging on forever. You’re 22 and you’ve never had a man. You’re living in a dream. Waiting for some earth shattering experience and all the time life and men are passing you by. That’s absurd.’

  ‘It is not. It’s what I’ve decided. It’ll take an amazing man to seduce me.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had enough of talking to you about it and I’ve had enough of going round and round this crumbling old church remembering your big day that never was. We’ll always be friends, Sally. But I’m not sticking around. I’m off. And I’d advise you to stop moping about the past. For God’s sake, get a life.’ She stalked away, down the path.

  Sod her, I thought. We’d make up tomorrow. It wasn’t the first time we’d had differences of opinion and they were mostly about men. I flounced off, my heels clacking against the church path.

  Now I was on my own, the air had become unusually sultry for February, heavy and seductive, like a warm bath. It was a perfect evening. Perfect for drinking chilled white wine with a lover. Perfect for heaving, panting sex. I sighed and walked on.

  Liz was right. It was crazy to be a virgin at my age. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want a man to make love to me, I thought about it all the time. Like now. I felt the tightness of my grey pencil skirt tugging against my legs. I liked the way it made me walk, with my bottom pertly on display. As usual, I was wearing pretty, some might say tantalising, lingerie: red silk knickers and bra, with black lace. I liked good underwear and never bought cheap.

  I was acutely aware of my thighs, encased in hold-up stockings. My blouse was ultra tight, soft creamy satin, the mound of my full breasts clearly visible. My mind had been so preoccupied, I suddenly realised I had passed the front door of the church for a third time.

  I walked a little faster. Was lightning going to strike? I almost expected someone or something to come up behind me. Hah, Liz’s superstitious words were all rubbish. Nothing happened. No earthquake, no flood. I entered the church garden and noticed that the sky had turned a livid brooding orange.

  It was then I saw the stranger, standing under a white climbing rose, languidly smoking a cigarette. Over six foot tall, dangerously handsome. As I walked towards him I saw him raise one eyebrow, his lips upturned in a lazy smile, as if he was expecting me. I slowed my pace, anxious to keep within his mesmerising presence, but not wanting him to know I was interested. He put the cigarette to his mouth, pursed his lips and closed them around its tip. A ridiculous fantasy crept into my brain as I pictured those moist, aristocratic lips closing over the tip of my breast. My pulse quickened, I blinked to force myself back to reality. Then I watched him blow a perfect smoke ring which twirled and rose up defiling the petals of the rose.

  I dawdled in my walk. Did roses bloom this early in February? It was only where the stranger stood that there wer
e blossoms and they seemed to glow in the faltering light. But I was no gardener and besides he was much more interesting to contemplate. There was something about him which was bewitching. His hair was jet black, thick and slightly curly over his crisp white collar. His piercing eyes had a stunning quality, mocking and hard. He could just as easily have been a Lord or a crook in his expensive black suit. His tie was loosely knotted about his neck giving him the look of a city financier who’d made a million that day … Or lost it.

  I approached him. With an air of challenge, he stared at my heavily bouncing breasts. I felt like a prostitute in a line-up, being appraised by a wealthy client as the lips of my sex tingled under his probing gaze.

  Reaching up he teased at the petals of one of the roses. I watched him fingering the delicate folds apart, expertly spreading them open. When they had yielded to his handling, he pushed his tongue deep inside as if to taste the honeyed nectar at the base then tossed the rose aside and looked me straight in the eye. It was an unashamedly sexual gesture and I knew then I wanted him to open me up like that, bury his face deep between my legs, and taste the musky sweetness of my gently aching pussy.

  Holding my breath, I walked past, intensely aware of his eyes burning on the satin straining across my breasts, then seeing his gaze move down to where my skirt brushed against my mound of Venus, I felt undressed, naked. I nearly jumped out of my high heels when his low velvety voice broke the silence. ‘Excuse me, I think you dropped this.’

  I swung round to see him stroking a silver lipstick case in his hand. I was just about to protest that it couldn’t be mine when I put my hand in the zip pocket where I always kept my lipstick and found it had disappeared. I took it from him and as our fingers touched I jumped. It was like receiving an electric shock. There was that laughing, superior look again. Was he a magician? It reminded me of those tricks they play, producing a penny from behind someone’s ear. He smiled and in those upturned lips was a world of possibilities. A man that stunningly good-looking must have seen and done things with women that a mere virgin could barely imagine.

  He looked at me with such voracious hunger I was sure in that split second that he knew I was untouched. With his wealth of experience he could tell. And for a second, he seemed to glow, seemed to shimmer in an orange aura. I shook my head, and the aura vanished. I’d been seeing things, it was just the reflection of the sunset.

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmured, turning the silver lipstick over in my fingers.

  ‘It’s just your colour, though I don’t think you need it, not with lips like those.’ As a chat up line, it was so obvious I almost admired him for it. A blush, like a rush of raspberry syrup suffused my cheeks. ‘And with colour like that in your cheeks, you don’t need blusher.’

  ‘Thank you for the advice. You don’t look like a guy who’s that interested in women’s make up.’

  ‘I notice everything about women. They’re a hobby of mine. They fascinate me.’

  ‘And I suppose churches fascinate you too, do they? Or else why would you be hanging around here?’

  ‘This is sort of my back garden.’ He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the bushes. Even that small amount of movement made my stomach lurch. He was so lean, so muscular, his black jacket stretching against impossibly broad shoulders, while his perfectly cut trousers emphasised narrow hips. Dancer’s hips, a bullfighter’s hips. I imagined those hips thrusting in and out.

  ‘Your back garden,’ I said in disbelief. ‘You don’t look like a vicar to me.’

  He flung his head back and barked out the throatiest, dirtiest laugh I had heard in a long time. ‘No way. I can’t think of any profession I’m less suited to. But I do live here; across the road actually, in that penthouse.’

  My eyes followed upwards where the tilt of his head indicated. The pricey penthouse with its floor to ceiling windows went with the suit, the polished shoes, the golden cufflinks, the debauched look of indulgence. ‘I sometimes come down here for a smoke. Why don’t you come up and join me for a drink?’

  It was barefaced cheek. Picking me up in the street like that. Sometimes you have to make decisions in an instant that will change your life for ever. Should I say yes or no? I realised that if I said no I’d regret it for ever.

  ‘Thank you. A drink would be nice.’

  He came and stood next to me, the warmth emanating from his body. He placed his hand on my back, the touch of him induced a light butterfly feeling in my sex. He steered me across the road and as he did so the sky darkened. My body was crying out to be caressed and when, as we approached the entrance to the building, his hand slid down to my buttocks, I felt my breath quickening with desire. As we walked into the building, he took a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, and tossed them into a bin. ‘I’m trying to give them up, but I’m rubbish at giving up my vices. Vices are meant for enjoying. If you’re going to rot in hell for your sins, why not make them big ones, I say.’

  We went up in the mirrored lift. The doors slid open, right into his apartment. It was everything I had expected. Glass and leather everywhere. Cream carpets.

  ‘Champagne?’

  My favourite drink. ‘Yes please.’

  Two glasses later, my head was starting to swim and my inhibitions had flown out of the window across London, far, far away. He sat opposite me, twirling his glass around in his hand and undressing me with his eyes. I remembered his fingers pushing their way into the flower and my pulse started throbbing. ‘There’s only one thing I like the taste of better than champagne,’ he said.

  I shifted on the leather seat, aware of the warm night, his sandalwood aftershave and the animal scent of my own crotch, drifting up despite my crossed legs. Suddenly I knew I was going to lose my virginity this evening, and I had the sense that this man was worthy of it. I slid my legs uncrossed and watched him staring at my glossy stockinged knees. It was a signal.

  He got up from the white leather chair, walked over and stood in front of me. He grasped my hand and pulled me to a standing position. My breasts ached to be touched. He raised his hands and rubbed the pads of his thumbs across my totally sensitised nipples. His thumbs teased, pressing up and down over the satin of my blouse, expertly kneading my breasts. He leaned his mouth down to my ear. I could feel his breath, like fire, sharp with the yeasty scent of champagne. ‘How long have you wanted me to do that?’

  ‘Ever since I saw you in the garden looking at me,’ I whispered.

  ‘I knew it.’ He brushed his lips over my neck causing me to judder with desire. ‘I can read your mind. I knew right from the start what you wanted me to do to you.’

  I moaned as he ran his hands down my back, in at my waist and over my ample curves. Then leaning down, he gripped at the hem of my skirt and pulled it up to my waist, leaving my buttocks round and exposed to the night air. They weren’t cool for long though, as his hot hands urgently massaged them. His breath became ragged, as he pushed my mound of Venus into him, so that through his trousers I became aware of the longest, hardest, straightest erection I had ever had pressed into me.

  I gasped, unable to believe the size of him and wondering if I could cope.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘you’ll be fine. I’ll get you ready.’

  Mystified, I wondered if he really could read my mind. My heart slammed against my chest as he moved his hand around to the front of my blouse and flicked open the buttons. His eyes registered the black and red lace.

  ‘Little slut.’ He smiled as he undid the catch and let my breasts spill out. Then he reached for the bottle of champagne and poured it fizzing over my erect brown nipples. Pushing me roughly down he started lapping and licking at my champagne soaked tits. His tongue felt rough like a cat’s, it was almost as if he weren’t human. The sensation was mind-blowing. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed him into me. As he bit my nipple I felt pleasure and pain mingle in a delicious terrifying cocktail.

  Goosebumps broke out on my skin as he undid his trou
sers and steered my hand onto his prick. It was massive, hard and hot. He pulled my hand away. He wasn’t going to fill me yet. He knelt down in front of me and pulled my legs apart. I was sopping wet as I felt him pour champagne over my throbbing clitoris, trickle it over the fluff of my mound of Venus and then tease my lips open with the cool neck of the bottle while he poured the champagne deep inside me. Then I watched him go down on me.

  As his tongue sank into my pink softness, a shock of current shot up inside me, like the blinding light of a spotlight coming on. Was his tongue real? The length of it slid up and whirled deliciously around my blossoming pussy. It was too much, I didn’t want to come too soon and spoil it. I tried to push him away but his lust had powered him like a steam train. In and out his tongue lashed at me. Mercilessly he sucked at my clit, drove his impossibly long tongue up and over the lips of my sex, nibbling and swirling at the swollen flesh. As soon as I got to the point where I was going to explode, he pulled back. He could read my mind; he was toying with me, bringing me to the brink but not letting me come. It was unbearable. Pussy juice flowed out of me, onto my buttocks and he licked it up, teasing my crack apart to lap up every last drop.

  This was what he meant by getting me ready. Another surge of my pulsating sweet honey bubbled its way down from deep inside me, to drip into his mouth. My clitoris throbbed against his tongue as he greedily licked me out. I pulled frantically at his head, feeling it bob back and forth relentlessly. Oh, how I was desperate to come, but cruelly he wouldn’t let me. Briefly, I looked down at him and his eyes glowed golden in the half light like a black panther’s. Were those sparks I could see?

  He wasn’t going to stop, he knew he had the power, and he knew exactly how to use it and he knew he had brought me to the brink. I felt a cry rise in my throat as the crushing, tumbling, shuddering orgasm spilt out of me and into his waiting mouth. Again and again, it pulsated against his licking, flicking tongue. As I subsided, with my legs apart, panting, he pulled back, his mouth glistening with musky come. Then, he stood in front of me and said. ‘I think you’re ready for me now, little virgin.’