All Cats are Grey

"Oh god, yes baby, yes, that's it, make your woman cum, yesss " I felt a pleasure almost as great as my own cum, at making Melissa orgasm. I was proud of my newly-learned skill. Eventually, though, it became too intense for her, too, and she pushed my head away, saying, "C'mon up to mama, baby, I want to cuddle and hold you against me forever " I lay with her then, and we fell asleep together, never to part again. I thought, anyway.

The next morning was especially sweet. I felt Melissa's warm lips on mine, softly kissing me, awakening me. As I sleepily responded, she moved on, leisurely kissing and licking my breasts, and stiff nipples. Then she quickly moved down to my pussy, thick with both our fluids from the previous evening's loveplay. She kissed and licked me lovingly there for about 15 minutes, bringing me to many more orgasms as she mouthed my pussy lips, my wet slit and especially, my throbbing clit.

To my great surprise, she didn't stop with that, but made me roll over onto my stomach. Then she proceeded to separate my hot butt cheeks, stroking inside my brown furrow with her fingertip, a very new sensation for me, her finger gently tickling the puckered opening of my anus. I quivered under her touch, hoping that she would pay even more attention to that newly discovered responsive area. I could feel my pussy dripping as she stimulated me there. I hoped that she might pick up some of my excess flow, and use it to penetrate me.

Instead, I felt a hot, wet probe into the center of my puckered opening. Melissa was licking my asshole Her tongue felt so delicious as it sunk past the tightly guarded opening to my rectum, fucking my tight hole, moistening my asshole with her mouth and tongue. Melissa kissed me so lewdly for the longest time, her lips pressed to my asshole in a perverted, and wonderful kiss that I would never forget.

I groaned, and rotated my hips madly under her, pleasant orgasms coursing through me in a long, smooth flow, rather than in separate cums. I thought that must be the limit of Melissa's, or anyone's, sexual imagination, and blessed God for sending her to me, when, after we rested for a few minutes, Melissa urged me up on my hands and knees.

I complied, my rear and pussy vulnerable and open, trusting this wondrous woman. I heard soft, squishing sounds, and heard Melissa sighing. I looked back, and gasped. Melissa had slid her thumb up inside her pussy, and was slowly fucking herself. Then she knee-walked herself to my bottom. Extending her index finger, while keeping her thumb deep inside her own wet and fragrant cunt, she slowly slid her index finger inside my asshole, as though her hand were a double-headed dildo.

The sensation of having my new girlfriend finger fucking my ass was, to say the least, mind blowing. Melissa began fucking me, keeping her thumb pretty much inside her slit, but moving it enough to stimulate her pussy and clit, and thrusting her finger fiercely in and out of my rear end. It didn't take long, particularly with my own fingers stroking my clit, for both of us to reach yet another pinnacle of pleasure, cumming simultaneously, our copious fluids running down our thighs in ecstasy. We collapsed into a little pile of girl, and went back to sleep, the deepest I can recall.

From then on we WERE inseparable. We would take long walks around the campus duck pond, the soft waves lapping gently at the sandy shoreline, small green lines of washed-up chickweed like cuneiform symbols running parallel to the water's edge. The sparrows, and occasional red-hued cardinal flitting by, providing an animated touch to the pastoral backdrop of weeping willows along the edge of the small pond, along with the comically quacking ducks crossing the water in search of handouts. Our noses caught stray whiffs of sweet honeysuckle, as we strolled along, holding hands.

The small children messily playing in the mud along the shore were a reminder to us both of the fruits of deep companionship, of love, of tenderness shared between two people. Their laughter was a sweet complement to the beauty of the strolls with Melissa.

We often spoke of dreams to come, and of dreams already fulfilled. I spoke of 'loves past,' but Melissa skirted shyly around that particular topic, vaguely speaking of 'a love she had once lost.' As an English major, I found the construction of that sentence odd.

I could never, ever get her to speak of the person, though she was open about everything else. When I would ask her directly about it, she'd only look at me sadly, and say nothing. I couldn't even tell if the person was a man or a woman. The loss she felt must have been terrible, and it made me sad to know she'd been hurt so. She showed me the locket that I'd noticed her wearing the first night I saw her. She said that her lover had given it to her, and that she wore it to remember her by. I said nothing more about that topic, and never brought it up again.

But when we spoke of 'loves present and future,' we'd look at each other shyly, our eyes shining then, and I knew that we would be together forever. That was, of course, not accounting for the vagaries of drunk drivers and their evil attraction to an innocent female crossing the street from the drug store.

At the risk of sounding sappy, that's how our love, life, and relationship, was. She taught me, about love and life, and I will never be able to repay it to her. I guess that's the thing I regret most about her passing, that I can never pay back to her. After she died, I found the locket she had worn in commemoration of her first lover, the gold locket with a diamond inset, and I took it as my memory of Melissa.

PART TWO

I returned to the present, musing over my sweet memories of Melissa and me. I got up from the bench in the fragrant, flower bedecked arbor, and slowly walked back to the house. I entered the kitchen and saw the gardener sitting at the kitchen table drinking an iced tea.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I'll get out right now," he said.

"No, don't worry about it," I said. "I'd like to ask you some questions about the house, if you wouldn't mind."

"Yes ma'am, I'll help if I can, ma'am," he said.

"Tell me about this place," I said. "Anything unusual I should know about?"

"Um, ma'am, we're not supposed to talk about it," he said.

My curiosity piqued, I said, "Oh, the lawyer told me all about 'it.' I just wondered what you thought of 'it.'" Of course, I had no idea what 'it' could be.

"It's alright then?" the simple man asked, a relieved smile breaking out on his face. "Well, it's okay to talk to you about it, then?" I nodded affirmatively.

He proceeded to tell me a story right out of a Victorian novel, of a ghostly presence in the mansion that only manifested itself in the dark, by whispering around visitors and residents alike, and even touching one or two, or so they said. The spirit, apparition, whatever, had been showing up occasionally for a number of years, perhaps nearly twenty as he recalled. Smart money said that it was the ghost of a young girl from the 1800s who had supposedly run off to be with her lover, but whom some believed at the time to have been murdered.

A real haunted house Maybe this would be better than TV, since the reception wasn't very good in that part of the country. I went to sleep that night in the second biggest bedroom - I didn't feel comfortable in the master suite, and besides, this room was painted in the loveliest shade of green, one I would have picked out myself. It wasn't until my seventh night there that it came to me. As I lay in bed, I felt a breeze blow over me, followed by indistinct whisperings that sounded like a teenaged girl talking to someone.

"Who is it," I called. Nothing replied, save some whispers. Perhaps the wind blowing through the eaves.

"Who is it, I said," I called again.

To my utter shock, a teenaged girl's voice replied, "It's only me."

"Who are you?" I quavered. "What do you want?"

"I live here. But who are you?" the voice whispered. "There's no one else around, what-."

"Who are you?" I repeated, more forcefully.

"I live here, I said," the young girl's voice said, sounding a little indignant, and taking on a little strength itself. "Do you live here, too?"

At that point, I was hoping the girl might just go away, but I also wanted to find out more. "Why do you haunt this house?" I asked.

"Haunt?" the voice asked. "I'm not dead, or a ghost, how could I haunt? I'm an eighteen year old girl, I take classes, I talk, well, I suppose, to myself. Okay, not too many friends, none, actually, but I'm real. Are you interested in being friends, spirit?" the voice said.

That was a real turnabout This ghost thought that I was the ghost I supposed that ghosts saw humans as the apparitions, instead of the other way around. Of course, it IS thought that the reason ghosts exist, if they really do, is because they haven't yet realized they're, um, dead. I supposed that ghosts saw humans as the apparitions, instead of the other way around.

I was feeling really creepy about that, remembering the movie, 'The Sixth Sense,' which was just exactly about ghosts that didn't realize they were dead. But then, I still talked to, and was talked to, by the staff of the house, and they in turn went into town frequently, so there was no chance I was the ghost The ghost was the ghost. Poorly stated, but accurate.

"Can you see me? What's your name? When were you born?" I asked, the questions spilling out. Perhaps I could find out how this ghost came to haunt the mansion, by finding out when it lived. It could be from any era that the house existed, maybe even from before the house existed

"I'm really lonely here," she said. "I've got no one to talk to, just my books. Can I sit next to you?" she said, ignoring my questions, but apparently signaling that she could, indeed, see me, even if I couldn't see her.

"Well, okay," I said, curious to see where this impromptu seance would take me.

I felt a light touch as she settled in next to me, her shoulders unexpectedly warm against mine. I felt a shock of familiarity in her touch, like the touch of another living person. The room was completely dark, but I could feel the sheets move as her body, or essence, or spirit or whatever settled down next to me. I noticed an attractive aroma of flowers from her, I guess, her breath, which was warm. I slowly reached over to the lamp and switched it on, shocked to see that there was nothing at all there. I looked around to see where she'd gone to, but no luck.

"Hello," I said.

No reply.

"I said, 'Hello '" This time, louder. No reply. Not even the sound of wind.

I switched off the lamp, and instantly heard and felt this mysterious girl next to me again.

"Well, what's the matter?" she said. "You're certainly acting funny."

"You don't exist, or I can't see you, or something, but you don't exist in the light. You ARE a ghost," I said. In retrospect, I was amazed that this sequence of events didn't give me a heart attack.

"I'm sorry, I can't explain it to you. I only know that I can wander this place, and see it as it will be, at least as I THINK it will be. Anyway, I can see the people, and I talk to them, but they never talk back to me. You're the first person that I could actually have a conversation with. And honestly, there's nothing to do here, you're quite wonderful to talk to me " she said.

"Please, could I come visit you, perhaps be your friend? It would mean ever so much to me," she asked.

The hopeful sound of her voice, and her desperate loneliness broke my heart, and rekindled in me a sense of the loneliness I'd felt since Melissa's passing. God, if there were any kind of divine justice, this would have been Melissa's spirit come to comfort me, but that would be a bit too much to expect.

"... someone who once lived here?" I heard her voice, breaking into my memory of Melissa.

"I'm sorry? What did you say?" I asked into the darkness next to me, wiping away a small tear.

"I said, 'Are you the ghost of someone I once knew, or someone who once lived here?'" her young, small voice asked again.

I sighed. "I don't really know," I said. "This has really been a bit of a shock. Aren't you at all upset?" I asked.

With the insouciance of ghostly youth, I suppose, she replied, "Oh no, I'm used to it. But you ARE the first ghost who's ever talked back, so that's a bonus "

I looked at the clock by my bedside. "Yikes, it's late, I must get to sleep. Please, can you return tomorrow? I'd love to talk to you more..."

"Could I stay here with you?" she asked, yawning. "I'm quite tired too. And I promise I wouldn't be any trouble" So saying, I felt her arms go around me, and I was thankful that I was wearing a nightgown I hugged her back, and felt her rest her head against my breast. Soon, I felt her breathing lightly, as though she had fallen asleep. Since I felt pretty sure this particular wraith wasn't going to sprout claws, or breath fire, I rapidly fell asleep too. During the night, I was comforted by her constant touch, and presence close to me, as real as you. When I awoke in the morning, I couldn't feel, see or hear the girl, though I thought I detected that same faint aroma of flowers. I felt more cheerful than I had in a long time, and I realized that since Melissa's death two years before I hadn't felt anything approaching contentment or happiness. The ghostly visitor was good for me in that respect.

I thought back to the few things that I had managed to note about her. I felt her touch, which was as real as yours, or mine, but only in the dark, strong and firm. Her voice had taken on additional strength, too, as we talked during the night. The voice of a girl in her late teens, perhaps. Her fragrance was, as I mentioned before, sweet and that of flowers, or some flower-based perfume. Taste, of course, I had no idea. It was only my sense of sight that was lacking in respect to knowing her, both in the dark and the light..

As for her, she seemed to be able to see and hear me, oh, and feel me, but as to taste and smell, well, I had no idea about that. And where she went to in the light, of that I had no idea, either. Except for her complete absence to every sense in the light, in the dark she was a real, living, breathing young woman. I had felt, heard and smelled her. Three out of five senses wasn't too bad, I guessed, at least to end up with the best ghost story of all time, anyway

My thoughts were quite cheery the next day, and I became very interested in possibly learning more about the house's strange inhabitant. After a hearty dinner, and watching TV, I retired to the master suite again.

I looked at my bed when I entered the room. Made up by the maid earlier in the day, the bed showed no presence. When I got into bed, and turned out the light, I felt the young woman again. I swore that I could feel her entire length against me in the bed, from the hair on top of her head, long and thick, to her warm and full chest, arms, hips, legs and feet. Her touch felt very nice, and comfortable against my nightgown clad body.

"Where were you?" she muttered sleepily.

I was bemused by a quiz from a ghost, but replied, "I was just looking for you. Where did you go?"

Her sleepy voice answered, "I fell asleep here waiting for you." I snuggled up against her, and kissed where I thought her cheek was, overcome by affection for this friendly and open spirit. I fell asleep spooning with her, and when I woke up the next morning, in the light, she was once again gone. Spirited away, you might say

We fell into a regular routine. She would be waiting for me in bed, and occasionally, but not always, we would talk. We'd lay down to sleep, and as for myself, I slept wonderfully, then every morning she would be gone. Her nightly attire seemed to consist of a long nightgown too, but I couldn't tell from feeling it, what era in time it might be from, giving me a clue as to who she might be. Unfortunately, women's nightgowns are really classic, and haven't changed that much over long spans of time She seemed to need my emotional warmth more than anything else, and for lack of any other companionship of my own, I gave it to her. Surprisingly, she returned it to me doubled.

The staff noticed a real change in me over the next few weeks. The gardener I had talked to the first day seemed to see me as a special confidante, and he said, "Miss, you've really perked up since you've been here. You were something of a drudge that first day, but you're right perky now."

"Um, thanks." I paused. "No, thank you very much " I said, smiling, and appreciating his compliment, even if it was somewhat lefthanded.

Then one night, a few weeks after meeting the girl, as we both lay down to sleep, I felt her soft, warm lips on my cheek, a kiss so gentle and powerful. "Good night," she said, and hugged me fiercely. I slept soundly that night, and I don't think her arms left me at all until the morning, when she was once again gone.

The next night, as we lay down together, she said, "You're so soft and warm. You're the nicest person I've ever touched. I'd like to marry you some day." Well, YOU try to go to sleep after hearing that. I was torn between the compliment, and wondering what was up with this seductive, ghostly girl. Nonetheless, I did fall asleep, but her words lay heavily on my mind the next day.

I thought of that old French proverb, I don't know how it popped into my head, "All cats are grey in the dark." Could touching, and kissing, and perhaps loving, this shadow girl, ever be like my Melissa? Could I ever confuse the two in my head, or in my heart? I didn't know, but there was a strong attraction beckoning me.

When I turned off the light, and she instantly reappeared, at least to my senses of touch, hearing and smell, I asked her about her remark. "Don't you have any boys where you are?"

She snorted. "Yes, what of it? They're not at all attractive. They're rough, and not very serious, and not very fun to touch. You're the first person that I've found that I loved touching. And you smell nice. I sometimes get a special shiver when I touch you."

A ghost having an orgasm? Was she some sort of succubus? Jesus, what was I getting into?

I needed to know more about the girl.

"You're frightened, aren't you," I asked her.

"I'm not sure," she said, her voice turning uncertain. She moved to kiss me, but I turned my cheek aside slightly. Not enough to turn her away, but enough that she would know I wanted the truth, her truth.

"You ARE frightened. You're shaking," I said, my hand on her side, under her arm. "Do I frighten you?"

"You could never frighten me, I want to be with you" she said. "Please kiss me now."

"You can't avoid the truth, darling," I said. "Are you afraid of kissing a woman?"

She paused to think about that. "Yes, I had been," she admitted. "But not now."

"Would you like to be naked with me? Are you afraid to be naked with me?"

"Oh yes, I am. And yes, I would," she said. "Like to be naked with you, I mean."

"Why are you afraid to be naked with me?" I asked.

She sighed. "I'm not sure. I'm not sure what will happen," she said finally.

"Do you think that I would hurt you?" I asked.

"No. You wouldn't hurt me," she said. I could hear the confidence in her voice.

"Then you must not trust yourself," I said plainly.

I was shocked to discover that I was playing out with this young girl, almost word for word, the same voyage of self-discovery I had undertaken with Melissa.

"Well, it could mean something about me, something I don't want to face," she said.

"What does you think it means about you?" I asked her gently.

"It would mean that I wanted to be naked with you."

"And?"

"And, have you make love to me. And me making love to you."