“Oh.. my.. fucking.. God..” Giselle breathed whilst simultaneously lifting her smartphone up from her lap. The red LED recording light on the backside of the phone was glowing.
“It’s.. it’s..” Claire groaned, unable to properly form words anymore. Unseen hands were caressing the inside of her thighs. Unseen fingertips tap-danced in between her tits, tugging at the hemline of her bralet. Unseen hands had stripped her down to her underwear in front of her friends, and now those same unseen hands were pulling her panties to the side and exposing her dripping pussy. Claire looked over anxiously at her friends who were staring fixedly at this performance art going on in front of them.
“I can’t do anything..” she whispered, “.. and I don’t want to..” In a spasmodic motion that sent her entire body into a convulsion, Claire bucked her hips forward and arched her back while she let out a pornographic expulsion of pleasure from between her lips. The other three couldn’t see what was going on – not really, anyway – and were effectively getting half the show. In an astounding gesture of human-to-ghost relations, it appeared to them like their friend was currently getting eaten out by a spirit.
Claire could’ve corroborated that assumption if she had the willpower to stop moaning for a moment to speak. From her side, a tongue she couldn’t see was lashing back and forth in between the tender lips of her pink. She could feel the slimy, spectral appendage flick teasingly off of the sensitive nub of her clit. She had been gone down on before, but never like this – if that didn’t go without saying.
The poltergeist pleasuring the nubile, young woman was utterly incorporeal from Claire’s end of the electromagnetic spectrum. In a truly bizarre sight for her audience members, the squirming girl would occasionally reach down and make an attempt to rest her hand on top of the head that should have been nestled in between her legs. To as much of a surprise as the chick currently enthralled by the tongue-lashing as the ones watching her, Claire’s hand would hesitate at the spot where a head would be, and then pass through. It seemed, then, that she didn’t have much of a say in the situation. Once she had gotten over the idea of being fucked by a ghost in front of her three closest friends, it didn’t matter to Claire one way or the other. Besides, if the ghost could touch them, but they couldn’t touch the ghost, she considered herself fortunate that the her spectral suitor wanted to fuck her and not kill her. In that way, she was taking one for the team, she figured.
“It feels so good, you guys..” Claire moaned. It wasn’t as though the other girls didn’t know that. They could see her blushing face, sweaty forehead, convulsing hips, and stiffies that were poking against the fabric of her bralet. Audrey, ever the opportunist, looked over at Giselle.
“Believe it now?” she asked without making an attempt to hide the self-satisfaction in her voice. Giselle arched her eyebrows again and looked over at her friend. Her chin tilted down, her eyes flicked towards Audrey’s chest, and she guffawed.
“Yeah, and apparently this is doing things to you, too!” Giselle retorted. In a flash of motion, she reached over and flicked one of Audrey’s nipples that were firm enough to be visible through her blouse. Audrey yelped and smacked Giselle in the shoulder in defense.
“Shut up!” she cried, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the evidence of he arousal. Once the bickering pair had simmered down, a distinct moan quivered from behind them. Giselle looked over at Claire, who was still getting the tonguefucking of her life, and narrowed her gaze. Leaning back, she peered around Audrey to get a look at their silent friend. Hunter was leant back onto one hand, almost mimicking Claire, and was completely nude from the waist down. Her free hand was snaked in between her thighs and furiously stroking at her sensitive mound.
“Oh my god, bitch! What the fuck! Have some self control!” Giselle shrieked. Not that she would’ve said anything, anyway, Hunter looked over and smirked before a tremble of pleasure caused her expression to falter and her “oh” face to return. With that, the number of people enjoying some level of pussypleasing equalled the number of voyeurs for the pleasure party. Before the uncomfortable odds settled in for Giselle and Audrey, Claire spoke up again with the trademark vocal quibble that most ecstasy-high individuals wore.
“It stopped.. don’t stop..” whined the red-faced redhead. She pouted with the same expression she would give to a lover who was currently making the wrong call in the sack, but there was nobody to give it to. Instead, Claire looked over at the girls – noting then that Hunter had taken Claire’s half-invisible romp as a cue to get her own jollies – and gave her best Droopy impression. It wasn’t a second or two later that she couldn’t help but giggle. This evening had not gone the way the girls had envisioned it, and the look shared between the four (Hunter included, taking a moment away from her fervent jilling off) caused them all to break into a fit of laughter over the preposterousness of it all.
Then came the tapping.
It was loud, cut through their giggle fits, and silenced the four immediately. The source of the noise came from the Ouija board. Except, instead of where they had left it when the definitely-not-a-game broke down, the board was suspended in the air above where it used to be on the ground. In the commotion that began with Claire getting necked by a spectre, none of the girls had apparently realized that the tide had turned. No longer was it them communicating with the spirit realm – the spirit realm was about to talk directly to them.
Next to the board hung the planchet. All four girls in various stages of undress bore holes into the innocuous scrap of wood, Giselle in particular. It was difficult for her to argue with the importance and the energy of the thing when it was levitating. With all eyes on it, the planchet began spelling out a phrase on the board, one letter at at me.
“On whose knees?” blurted Claire in response to what had been written out for them. The planchet whirled around and jabbed the pointy end towards the satin-haired, half-naked chick still idly stroking at her glistening mound. Hunter’s eyes shot wide and she jabbed a finger at herself questioningly. Affirming its selection, the hovering piece of wood zoomed through the musty air and tapped the demure gal on the nose. Hunter looked back and forth between her friends and slowly rose up off of the floor and onto her knees. Since she had discarded her shorts and underwear only moments after Claire got freaky with what was beyond the grave, her exposed knees creaked on the rickety attic floorboards.
“Are you serious? We’re just doing whatever this thing tells us to do now?” Giselle yapped, gesticulating incredulously as she watched Hunter barely hesitate to comply.
“What’s going to happen now?” Claire polled the group, before adding “.. and why can’t it go back to me..” with a dejected cast towards the floor. Audrey giggled.
“Feeling left out?” bubbled the blonde, smirking in Claire’s direction.
“Hey, guys, Hunter is sucking a ghost’s cock,” Giselle said flatly. Her eyes never left the action, so she watched as Hunter’s lips were prodded by an invisible implement and left a green-tinted, glowing smear of goo on her bottom lip. Hunter then proceeded pucker up and plant a wet one on the head of the cock that she assumed would be in front of her. Her lips steadily widened, forming a vacuum-seal around the spectral pole being inserted into her cakehole from the get-go.
“Oh my God, she is,” crooned Audrey, who shuffled toward Giselle. Within moments, their friend was bobbing her head back and forth in what outwardly looked at the world’s greatest blowjob improvisation in all of theater history. Claire, situated on the opposite end of the room, could see Hunter’s tongue swirling round and round the engorged tip of a throbbing, but metaphysical cock that was very physical, at least to her. Audrey, meanwhile, was not convinced.
“Look, I think you’re both– you’re all fucking with me, right? This is my payback for last summer?” Audrey spluttered, scrambling to her feet and marching over to the preoccupied Hunter who was still smoking a ghost pole. There, she dropped to a squat and waved a hand in front of her friend’s face.
“There’s nothing fucking here!” she pleaded. She continued to wave right up until she felt the cock smack into the side of her face, sending a twirling droplet of slobber shooting out from between her teeth. Aside from what that roughness awoke in her – which, she suspected, was linked to the sudden wetness in her panties – Audrey fell silent at the same time as she fell backwards off of the balls of her feet and onto her curvy butt. She reached up with a trembling hand and felt her stinging face. Then, she looked over Hunter.
“You slapped me? What the fuck, Hunter? I thought we were friends!” Audrey squealed, tears welling up in her eyes. Her emotions were haywire. She didn’t know what to make of anything that was going on. She had seen Claire be undressed without touching her clothes. She had seen the Ouija board levitate into the air seemingly without assistance. Now, Hunter was almost comically miming an enthusiastic suckjob on what looked like nothing at all. She couldn’t explain it. Nothing made sense. Hunter appeared to be paying the in-crisis blond no mind, and had resumed her skillful servicing of the incorporeal dick.
It was Hunter’s ‘mocking’ that pushed Audrey over the edge. She had clearly had it with her friends making fun of her, and now they had the gall to pull this downright mean prank on her. The fuming blonde scrambled to her feet and stormed the handful of paces over to her fellating friend. Much to the surprise of the preoccupied flax-haired lass, Audrey took two great handfuls of Hunter’s hair.
“You want to suck a ghost cock, you cunt?” Audrey shrieked. Her stunned-silent audience members watched on with blank stares. Giselle couldn’t help but think back to the Audrey they knew before this evening – a picture of innocence, and the word ‘cunt’ would’ve burned her like holy water spilling out of her mouth – as she witnessed what was going on.
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