Ghost Lover

She looked imploringly into my face as she did, and I saw that her eyes, which had been so dark in the previous dream, were actually a clear, light grey. The sense of darkness was because they were deep-set and shrouded with concern. She tugged my cock expertly as her other hand glided over my chest, stimulating my nipples just like I had felt in the meeting. She bent to kiss me, and with her face nuzzled against my neck she kept saying "Please, save me. I know you're the one. Can you take me? Will you save me?" It was a mantra, a supplication, her voice inside my head, tinged with a need deeper than I could fathom. Something about that sense of need, and the unseen way it seemed to feed her hands on my body, infusing them with desire beyond understanding, was more erotic than I can describe. Before long, she sensed my climax approaching, and began to chant "Oh yes! Yes. I know I can reach you! Yes, yes..."

When I came, my dream-self ejaculated in a huge stream up over my chest, jet after slowly-subsiding jet. My ghostly lover milked the last drops from my cock and began rubbing the sticky, viscous mess all over my belly and chest. The last tingling sensations of my orgasm were just fading when I awoke to find I had jizzed in my underwear, and copious amounts of cum had soaked through and wet my sheets in cold spots of dampness.

Dammit! I hadn't had a wet dream since junior high school! What the hell was happening to me???

While it was clear to me the girl from the séance, the strange physical sensations, and the girl in my dreams were all related somehow, I just couldn't make myself believe that it was all real. I mean, I knew it was REAL -- I had the load of messy sheets in the laundry even as I was thinking about this -- but I didn't accept that there might be another entity involved. A ghost. Who believes in ghosts these days? I knew something was happening, but I still thought it was coming from my own mind somehow.

I pretty much thought I was going crazy.

Now that I had dreamed of direct contact with her, my ghostly visitations became both more frequent and more overt. No more isolated feelings of fingers on my chest, or kisses from unseen lips. No more foreplay, so to speak. Oh no.

Now the girl was getting me off at every opportunity. She seemed to thrive on pleasuring me. And it was damned embarrassing and inconvenient on occasion.

I'll give you an example. I was taking the subway train into work one day when my unseen companion decided it would be the perfect time to give me a blowjob. Like I said, no one else can see anything she does, but my erection was unmistakable as I felt the first stirrings of her touch. A young lady across from me looked at me with a withering glare, her eyes flashing lightning bolts of disapproval my way as I wriggled and squirmed to get my cock comfortable in my pants. That's not so easy when you're in public and can't just reach down and rearrange your package! I ended up slipping off my jacket and throwing it over my lap, but the woman across from me seemed to think I was just going to jerk off under there, so I made sure to keep my hands in the clear. She had the hawkish, bitter face of someone who would just love to report me to the authorities for indecent exposure.

I was pretty amazed that I was able to experience such sexual pleasure under her hateful scrutiny, but I did. The feeling of soft lips and a deft tongue working over my cock soon blotted out all but the most vague awareness of the eyes on me. Not just her eyes, either. She was the only one really watching me, but the car was full. I leaned back against the gently rocking seat and let the stimulation take over. I've always been a very visual person, and I like to watch when a woman gives me head, so feeling my lover's supple mouth suck me deeply in, feeling the tightness as my head penetrated the back of her throat - all this was strangely intensified by the deprivation of sight. I could feel her hand stroking and tugging at the base of my shaft in unison and in counterpoint to the wet mouth engulfing me. She sometimes stretched my skin taught, almost to the point of pain, and lightly moved her moist lips and tongue over the tight, sensitive skin. As she sensed my approaching orgasm, her hand took over in firm, rhythmic, dedicated strokes. Only occasionally did I sense her tongue flickering over my head and toying with the slit, already wet with precum. Though I couldn't see her at all, I had the feeling she was watching my face, enjoying my expressions as I edged nearer and nearer to the brink.

At last, I teetered over the edge, cumming in great heaving waves that passed through my abdomen, emptying my balls. I came to my senses to find that we were nearly to my stop, and the woman across from me was regarding me with the horror one might reserve for a bearer of the plague. I was never unconscious or anything, but I had been totally absorbed in what I was feeling, and I could only hope I hadn't made any obnoxious noises.

I started to put my jacket back on only to find that I had stained the front of my pants in a spreading splotch of dark wetness. I quickly held the jacket back in front of me, mortified and hoping against hope that no one else saw before I was able to cover up. I dug my cell phone out and called in to work, explaining that I had ruined my pants on the subway and needed to change before I could come in.

This would never do. I couldn't just go around jizzing in my pants at seemingly random times. I realized I had to do something to preserve my job and keep me out of jail. Not to mention the psych ward.

So, I did the only thing I could think of. I know you're gonna laugh, but I started wearing Depends. Yeah, yeah, I know. Adult diapers. Yuck it up.

What else could I do? I tried mind over matter. I mean, it seems like I should be able to keep from getting a woody, right? Much less, keep myself from having an orgasm. But whatever hold my visitor had over me, it seemed to override my own sense of embarrassment and self-preservation. She could make herself known and make me cum, anywhere, at any time. Honestly, I didn't mind in some ways. But it could still be really embarrassing, even with the protection of the Depends.

She never spoke to me when I was awake, but she began to haunt my dreams more and more often, and in the dreams she did talk. Most of what she said was very cryptic and hard to understand. It dawned on me that she had an accent, one that I couldn't place but seemed to be vaguely eastern European. I also learned her name -- Elisabetta.

In one evening's dream, I asked her, "Elisabetta, why are you here? Who are you?" I watched her face cloud with concentration, trying to come up with an answer I could understand.

"I am myself, Elisabetta. I have always been. You are the one. This I know, though you are unsure. I have found you, as I knew I would. That is why I am here."

"But, Elisabetta, what do you want from me? Why do you constantly touch me, suck me? What do you mean, I am the one? You seem to need something, but I don't know what it is you need. Help me understand." Without realizing it, I had fallen into her slightly old-fashioned, formal-sounding cadence.

"Do you not like the ways in which I touch you?" She seemed sad beyond measure, hopeless and lost at the thought.

I quickly answered, dread permeating the dream as I tried to reassure her, "Yes! Yes, I like the way you touch me. But you say I can save you, that I can take you. Where, Elisabetta? Where can I take you? How can I save you?"

She looked at me sadly. Her sad smile only seemed to deepen the sense of dread I was feeling, the fear that I was failing her. "If I must tell you, then I cannot be saved. To explain would be to surrender to the power of the curse. Remember, not all journeys take us to places. You can take me, but I cannot tell you where, because we are already there. It is all around us and in us, part of us. Only you can set me free."

"I don't understand. I want to help, but..."

She shushed me with a finger to the lips. "You may understand in time. But now..." She bent once more and took my cock in her mouth. It seemed she never tired of sucking me, in my dreams or in my waking hours.

"Elisabetta, please. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep cumming all over the place, wearing diapers to keep from messing!" Her hurt eyes cut me, made me feel ashamed for rejecting her. "Please, you make me feel incredible, but I have a life. I can't keep doing this!"

She looked at me, and the sadness was clearly no longer simply for herself. "You do not understand. I have no will to stop. I do what I must. My freedom is your freedom. But I will try not to be such an inconvenience to you." She smiled her sad smile, and then her brow furrowed. "Take me. Set me free. Set me free, for us both." And she took me in her mouth again.

Her now familiar touch brought me almost unwillingly to a quick but surprisingly intense climax. She really did give the most amazing blowjobs I've ever felt, with sensations that electrified my being as well as my flesh. As my semen spurted, she held my cock in her mouth, letting me empty myself into her, something I realized she had never done before. When I had finished, she swallowed my seed and rose from the bed, drifting away noiselessly.

The room became lighter and lighter until I awoke, sunlight streaming through the window. The last fragments of the dream swirled in my consciousness, and I got up, expecting to have to clean up yet another mess. To my surprise, there was no mess. I puzzled over the dream, which I could remember in every detail, and I couldn't help but wonder if Elisabetta had somehow swallowed my cum into the dream world, keeping it from spilling over into this world. The thought that there could be real interaction between these two worlds -- waking and sleeping, physical and spirit -- befuddled my sleepy brain, and I felt as if the floor might slope away into madness at any moment. I felt agitated and uneasy at the mysteries Elisabetta hinted at. I said before that I recognized a connection with the séance, but I was still clinging to the thought that this was all a manifestation of my own mind. If things that Elisabetta did could change things in the real world, though, that meant something entirely different. In some way, she was REAL. She was, for lack of a better term, a real ghost.

These thoughts buzzed like bees in my head, and I got ready for work like a man in a trance, trying to puzzle out what it all meant. By the time I left, I had just about convinced myself that it was really just a dream, and the only reason I didn't have a wet dream to clean up was that I simply didn't orgasm. I had only dreamt that I orgasmed. That seemed the only explanation that my mind could wrap around. Thus placated, I went about my day.

But I was soon to be disabused of the notion that Elisabetta was only in my head.

Just a few days after this last dream, I found myself working out at the gym. See, there was a new woman at work, and we had kind of hit it off, and I was thinking of asking her out. But I was feeling sort of soft and tubby, you know? I hadn't been working out much since the séance misadventure because I was, well, pretty much out of my mind. So, I started hitting the weights and watching my diet, just in case something developed with this new girl, Sarah.

As I was at the bench press, grunting my way through more reps than I really ought to have done, I felt the familiar tingle of Elisabetta's touch. I sensed urgency in the way she grabbed my balls and took me in her mouth, sucking me enthusiastically until I was hard as stone. Though I never actually saw her when I was awake, I'd begun picturing her in my mind's eye, and I imagined her lovely blonde head bobbing on my shaft as I lay back on the bench, her grey eyes beseeching me to give her whatever it was she needed. I gave up on the barbell and resigned myself to her attention, though I was already planning a mad dash as soon as she finished with me, before the cum had time to soak through my grey sweats. I hadn't thought to wear the Depends to the damned gym.

I noticed that the connection between us had somehow gotten stronger, because Elisabetta seemed to respond to my thoughts now, as if I were talking to her. Not that she ever stopped when I asked her to, but she did seem to try to please me and do the things I liked most. This time at the gym was the first -- I remember wishing she would grab my ass and pull me to her, taking me all the way in. And, sure enough, I felt her open hands cup my behind and pull, and I felt my cock slide all the way down her throat, her chin pressed against my pubis. She began to suck me in a series of long, deep strokes, each one starting all the way at the tip of my penis and then slowly engulfing me fully. I was aware of people glancing at me, wondering why I was laying on the weight bench and not lifting, maybe even noticing my ridiculous erection, but I didn't really care.

It didn't take too long, with Elisabetta following my every whim, before I was about to cum. I was worried about the mess, but it was out of my hands. Once my ghostly friend decides it's time, I'm gonna cum whether I want to or not. So I didn't fight, and before I knew it I was heaving in climax. The people around me must have thought I was having a heart attack or something, the way I was gasping for breath. Just as I came, I felt Elisabetta take me all the way in, and she held me there as I shot my load, pumping every drop of my hot cum straight down her throat. She held me tight until my spasms passed, and then she drifted away as she always did.

I quickly sat up and started to head for the locker room, afraid of embarrassing myself with a big cum-stain on my sweat pants, but much to my surprise there was no stain. I made my way to the locker room anyway, feeling drained and ready for a shower. I was thinking about the dream in which she had swallowed my cum, and how there was no stain on the sheets. I had decided that was just a dream of an orgasm. But this time I had been awake. Could I have imagined an orgasm while I was fully awake, and yet not have ejaculated at all? Shit, I thought I must have been going totally crazy.

A funny thing happened, though. When I got to the locker room and stripped out of my clothes, there was a small pearlescent drop seeping out of my half-erect penis. I squeezed a bit and stripped out a last couple of drops of semen. I HAD ejaculated, but most all of the cum was gone. All that was left were these tell-tale droplets. Well, hell. When Elisabetta swallows, the semen disappears from this world. Or dimension. Or whatever you call it. Damn!

From that moment on, my mind did a complete shift. I never again doubted or questioned what Elisabetta was. She was a ghost, or a spirit. A ghost that, for whatever reason, had attached herself to me at the séance and was now taking every opportunity to suck or jerk me dry, and occasionally visited me in my dreams. She obviously needed something from me, too, but I didn't know what.

There are worse problems for a guy to have, I guess...

It's funny. Once I accepted that I was being haunted rather than going crazy, I started feeling much better about things. More normal. Who in the world regards ghosts and hauntings as normal?! Still, I stopped feeling so off kilter and just started living again. I even started dating Sarah from work.

Elisabetta's presence made that a little tricky, obviously. I noticed, on days when I had a date planned, she would come to me multiple times a day. In fact, before my first date with Sarah, she used and abused me ten times throughout the day - three times while I was getting ready to go! I didn't even know I could cum that often. Luckily, Sarah liked taking things pretty slow, so it didn't cause any kind of embarrassing performance problems, but it was clear Elisabetta had an opinion about me dating. I expected her to visit me in my dreams and tell me off, but that didn't happen. Well, not exactly. After a few weeks, she finally did come to my dreams, but she didn't tell me off.

I've mentioned that we had started talking together in my dreams. That's true, but it would be wrong to think these were just normal conversations, or that we talked about things I wanted to talk about. They were still dreams, after all, with all of a dream's vagaries and lack of lucidity. So, the dream I had after starting to date Sarah just confused me. Elisabetta was very agitated in the dream, and it sounded like her words were filtered through cotton and fog. In fact, her appearance was really gauzy and faded, too. She kept asking me something about what I wanted, and whether I was going to save her. As always, she wanted me to take her somewhere, but I just couldn't figure out where. At the end of the dream she was crying and asking why I didn't want her. I tried telling her that I did want to help her, but my words sounded like gibberish, even to me. She drifted away, still crying, as I awoke. It was the first time she had visited me without touching me, and for some reason that upset me worst of all. I had the feeling once more that I was failing her. It made me sadder than I would have imagined.

It seemed clear that Sarah's entrance into my life was having an effect on Elisabetta. In a really odd way, I felt I was cheating on her. My rational mind just couldn't fathom choosing a ghost over a real relationship with a real woman, though, so I continued seeing Sarah. Guilt washed over me every time Elisabetta came to me -- guilt that I was choosing Sarah over her, and also guilt that I was cheating on Sarah with a ghost. What a spot to be in. But life went on...

By this time, Elisabetta had learned exactly what kinds of things I liked, and I kind of think she got as excited by taking me in public places as I did. Be it a movie theater, restaurant, or meeting at work, Elisabetta was there with me. Whether just a handjob or a full scale suck-me-'til-I-explode blowjob, she always swallowed now, so I gave up on wearing the Depends. Thank goodness!

Despite my guilt at being torn between two worlds, things were moving along nicely with Sarah. I sensed that we were each feeling committed and close enough to take the relationship to the next level, and after a lovely dinner and bottle of wine at a French restaurant, we found ourselves back at my place, cuddled up on the couch. For once, Elisabetta was completely out of mind, and Sarah and I were kissing and fondling hungrily. The mood was right, the time was right -- we both knew tonight would be the night we made love. I was kissing her neck and lightly caressing her breasts through the silky material of her blouse when I felt the familiar touch of Elisabetta's fingers on my chest. Sarah must have felt me tense up, because she asked me what was wrong. I told her it was nothing, that I was just a little nervous, and she assured me she was nervous and excited, too.

We kissed again, and hands started roaming again, and sure enough, Elisabetta started going down on me. I stifled a moment's panic, scared that Sarah would sense what was going on, but she seemed not to notice. I guess it was only natural that I should have woody, making out with such a beautiful woman. She certainly noticed, too, glancing at my bulging cock straining at my pants, and then looking directly in my eyes with undisguised lust before slipping her tongue back between my lips. I have to admit, it was an incredible sensation to be kissing Sarah's sensuous mouth and fingering her hard nipples while feeling Elisabetta's expert mouth on my cock. I had no idea what was going to happen when I tried to slide myself into Sarah's pussy. Would I feel Sarah AND Elisabetta? I couldn't imagine what that might feel like. My head whirled with excitement and lust, and I found myself giddy beyond the effects of the wine.