A Frightful Fingering

It was nearing midnight, and I was standing alone in front of a large, wrought-iron fence. A large, etched, steel sign on the fence read Ridley Graveyard - No Trespassers. Every time I came to the graveyard, this sign reminded me that what I was doing was illegal. But it didn't bother me; my midnight strolls through Ridley's were the only things that kept me sane in these trying times. The country was a mess, my girlfriend and I had just broken up, and I was in my final year of college, applying to med schools. I needed these walks. I needed the release they provided.

As I stood at the front gate, I felt a slight shiver go down my spine. It almost felt as if someone was watching me, but I knew that was impossible. The church nearby had been abandoned since the 70s, and the graveyard had fallen into unkempt disrepair shortly thereafter. What's more, this was the furthest point from the city; the nearest house was over 2 miles away.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I knew I had nothing to be afraid of; as I said, there was no way another living human was around, and even if there was, I was a pretty imposing figure. I stood at 5'11", with fairly broad shoulders for a woman. I kept my dark hair short, too, so I was often mistaken for a man at a distance. A lesbian stereotype, I know. But I can't help it. I am who I am.

Taking a deep breath, I finally began opening the gates. The locks had come off easily the first time I'd come here, nearly three months ago. They had been rusted over after years of rain. With the gates open, I stepped inside, ignoring the little voice in my head telling me it was a bad idea.

I took a step into the graveyard and looked around. It was beautifully quiet. The only sound was a haunting wind whistling through the oak trees, which cast imposing shadows over the marble headstones that littered the grass. There was no discernible path, as the whole place had been overgrown with weeds, so I began walking in the general direction of the other exit.

As I walked, I admired the beautiful headstones around me. Most were ornate, with gorgeous marble busts depicting the inhabitants of the graves below. A handful, however, were simple marble blocks with names carved into them. I read the names out loud as I passed them. Jacob Williamson, 1876. Mary Guthrie, 1921. Susan Greenberg, 1893. All long forgotten, no doubt.

About halfway through the graveyard, I decided to take a break. There was a simple wooden bench underneath a large oak tree, so I sat down. I still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, so I pulled out my phone and starting writing a text to my best friend, Charlie.

Hey, man. Just wanted to let you know that I'm out at the graveyard. Got a spooky feeling- could I call you in a few minutes?

I waited a few minutes, but I didn't hear back from him, so I decided to just turn around and head back for my car. As I stood up, however, I heard a soft whisper in the wind. It was so faint that I almost didn't hear it, but I did.

"Wait," said the voice. Startled, I turned from where I had been sitting, looking around me. I didn't see anyone, but I knew that I hadn't just been hearing things.

"Is someone there?" I asked, feeling foolish for even asking the question. I figured if someone was going to attack me, I wasn't really going to get a polite response, was I?

To my surprise, however, the voice did answer. Politely, too. "Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." I could tell this time that the voice was female. She had an apologetic tone in her voice, but I couldn't find a face to assign the voice to.

Suddenly, she appeared. In front of me stood a young woman, probably in her early twenties like me. She was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a simple v-neck, with curly hair that fell just past her shoulders. I couldn't have told you what color the v-neck was, though. Her entire being was a translucent blue, just like how you see ghosts depicted in the movies.

I screamed as soon as she appeared. "What the fuck!?" Were the first words out of my mouth, and her eyes widened in response.

"I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, putting her hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean to scare you at all."

"You didn't mean to scare me, yet you appeared out of fucking nowhere? Yeah right, I'm out of here," I snapped back, turning on my heels.

I had only taken two steps when I heard her shout. "Wait! Please! Just give me a second to explain!"

"Explain what?" Came my angry reply. "You're fucking stalking me in an abandoned graveyard and you look like a ghost. Nu-uh. I've seen enough movies to know this does not end well."

"Well you're right, I am a ghost," she responded. Her voice was lower now, like she was letting me in on some secret, whilst also trying to calm my fears.

I stopped dead in my tracks, not believing what I was hearing. "Sorry, you're a genuine ghost? That's ridiculous. Ghosts aren't real."

"And yet here I am." She chuckled as she said it, then extended her hand. "Heather Smallcroft. Died in 1965."

Against my better judgement, I reached out my own hand. "Sarah," was all I offered her. When our hands met, I knew in my heart that she really was dead. Her hand was cool to the touch, but not completely cold. It was like feeling refreshing water on my skin. I knew she was a ghost, but my mind couldn't process it. She couldn't really be dead, could she?

"Let me show you something," she said, as if she had read my mind. She pulled my hand and guided me around a bush to a small marble gravestone that read Heather Smallcroft, 1965. "This is my gravestone. My body's just underneath. Believe me now?"

"I... I guess," came my choked reply. "What the fuck?"

"I've been watching you, Sarah," Heather continued, seemingly not caring about my disbelief. "Every week you come here, so stressed and exhausted. Sometimes you even cry. What's upsetting you so much?"

"Uh... It's nothing. Just a lot on my plate I guess."

She persisted. "Seems like more than nothing to me. You can tell me, it's not like I can tattle or anything." She smiled as if that was the funniest thing she could have possibly said.

"My girlfriend dumped me a few months ago, that's all," I said. I wasn't sure why I even said it, but it felt like it was important that she knew that.

"I see. Hung up on her?" She questioned.

I just nodded.

"Well, maybe I can help with that," she said with a gleam in her eye. She took a strand of my hair in her cold hand and began twirling it. "I've heard the dead make great lovers," she cooed.

And with that, she removed her hand from my hair and placed it on the back of my neck, pulling me into a kiss. It was cold, but not unpleasant. I tried at first to pull away, but the longer she held the kiss, the more into it I got. I eventually began kissing her back, letting my tongue slide past her lips and into her mouth, where it found hers.

Heather's hands began moving down towards my lower back. I felt her fingertips dancing across my skin on their way, sending shivers through my spine. Her hands found their way under my shirt, and the feeling of her cold presence on my skin was electrifying. All my fears melted away, replaced by an insatiable thirst.

Eventually, she moved her hands around to my stomach, before sliding them upwards towards my breasts. Taking them in her hands, she began playing with them as she moved to kiss my neck. As her lips made her way towards my collarbone, I let out a small moan. This seemed to encourage her, and she quickly grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me up slightly as she bit my shoulder.

I couldn't wait any longer, so I took her face in my hands and pulled her back into a deep kiss. As our tongues clashed, hers cold and mine warm, I took her right hand in my left hand and moved it to the lip of my jeans. She took the cue, and began slipping her fingers just inside my pants, playing with my underwear lightly.

Eventually, she grew more confident and moved her fingers even further down my jeans, now rubbing between my legs. I could feel myself getting wet now, and I knew all I wanted was to feel her fingers inside of me.

Softly, I whispered in her ear, "please, I want you inside me."

Once again she reacted positively, moving her hand back up and then under my underwear. I could feel her cool hand pressed against the soft flesh between my legs, and it felt like heaven. Slowly, she moved a single finger and positioned it right above the entrance to my body. "Wanna know how it feels to have the fingers of the dead inside you?" She asked, her voice now packed with passion.

"Oh god yes," was all I managed to get out in response.

I felt the tip of her finger start entering me, slowly at first. As I opened up, she slipped it deeper and deeper inside me, until it was almost all the way in. She started pumping her finger in and out, the coldness of her hand mixing with the warmth of my body to create an intoxicating pleasure. All the meanwhile, we were locked in a passionate kiss, breaking it only to moan each other's name.

She pulled her finger out completely to begin rubbing my clit. And god, did it feel amazing to have her touch on my skin. She pressed a little harder, and I began to moan again, slightly louder than before. Then, when it was getting to the point I thought I couldn't take it any longer, she took her finger off and slid it back inside me.

This time, however, it was accompanied by a second cool finger. I was loose and wet enough at this point that they slid in with a fair degree of ease, and she managed to get them all the way in without much trouble. Then she began that blessed motion again: in, and out. In, and out. In, and out. The only times she stopped were to briefly bend her fingers towards me, rubbing up against my g-spot and sending shockwaves through my body.

I was getting close to cumming at this point, so I had to steady myself against her headstone so that I wouldn't fall over. I could feel myself leaking all over her fingers, and she kept up her rhythm, speeding up every so often so as to keep pleasuring me.

Eventually, I got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," I moaned into her ear.

"Come for me," came her labored response. She may have been dead, but I could still tell that she was short of breath. What breath she did manage to find whistled past my ear like a cool breeze. It felt incredible, and it was that breath that sent me over the edge.

I felt my entire body tense, and my hands gripped her arms as I threw my head back and let out a loud gasp. "FUCK!" My body tightened around her fingers, and I felt an intense rush of pleasure that started between my legs and coursed through my veins, until I could feel it in every fiber of my being.

Satisfied with herself, Heather removed her hand from my pants. Then, without missing a beat, she licked her sticky fingers, all while making eye contact with me.

Still aroused, I wanted to know what it felt like to be inside of her, now. "Can I return the pleasure?" I inquired.

"Sorry babe, but unfortunately this is a one-way deal. I can materialize enough for you to feel me inside of you, but it takes too much out of me to let you do the same. I hope you enjoyed it, though," she responded.

I laughed. "I definitely enjoyed it. That was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had, I think."

She gleamed, and then winked at me. "I told you the dead are the best lovers around. Now, I've gotta get going. Starting to feel a bit weak. But I hope you'll be back."

"Oh, I'll definitely be back," I responded, chuckling.

"Good," she replied. "Well, I'll see you around." And with that, she was gone, disappearing into thin air as quickly as she had appeared.

I couldn't believe what had just happened, but I wasn't about to question it. My body and mind were still reeling from the encounter. I stood a while, then made my way out of the graveyard, closing the gates behind me.

I got into my car and smiled as I started my engine. As I drove away, I looked in the rear-view mirror at the gates. I felt almost sad that I had to leave Heather there, but then I knew I would come again.