More than a Ghost Ch. 02

Quickly I ascended the steps, gaining momentum as I ascended, my hand on the banister, my heart already racing. I could hear them! I could hear them furiously abusing the bed - which I already knew was my bed. My wife's bed. I glanced into my daughter's room, which was pristine and filled only with the straight sunbeam of a crepuscular ray. I passed the bathroom, the guest bedroom, rushed over the carpet to the overwhelming duet of aching, passion, moaning, groaning...

My hand pushed the door open and there, pinned under some neanderthal's sweating back, was Margaret, fucking it with every vicious muscle in her body. She was like a serpent, undulating under him, the heat nothing compared to the fury of their thrusts and passion. I'd never seen her move like that, never seen her bite, never seen her open her mouth and scream, "Fuck me!" like her life was dripping from her lips. Her breasts bounced and jiggled freely against his muscular chest.

He was a younger man, but not much younger. And the most insulting blow was that I did not know him. I did not recognize him in the slightest, I wouldn't have known him on the street - was he a milkman? The postman? A teacher? An engineer? An exterminator? A neighbor? A friend? Whatever he was he seemed ill suited to her tantric passion, only able to meet her thrusts in time and continue groaning. It was she who was making all the racket, she who was raking her hands up his back and squeezing her own breasts as she hugged his hips with her tight knees and stained our king size bed.

I stared at her, even as the stranger plunged his penis deeper inside my wife's vagina. I stared at her eyes, even as he ran his fingers over her forehead and she demanded that he pull her hair. He pulled her hair, but she screamed "Harder!" So he pulled her hair harder. She screamed "Harder!" and he simultaneously pulled and began to fuck her wildly. Her thin hips rose with him and she spread her legs wide, obscenely wide, to allow his dick to shove harder - and harder - inside her. Inside her!

Rage erupted throughout my arms as swiftly as the blood that filled my cock. I let out an animal roar and lunged at the man. The two suddenly jerked, terrified at the sound, and I grabbed the man under the armpits and threw him with all of my might. The stranger collided with our chest of drawers and careened off an old wood bookshelf. The shelves splintered against him and he screamed. Margaret screamed in turn, pulling herself up on the bed and shouting, "What happend? Oh my God - what happened! Harry?"

Harry was his name, eh? I pulled 'Harry' from the wreckage of the bookshelf and, still dazed, went smashing into the bedroom door, cracking the molding and popping one of the hinges. Margaret screamed and pulled her hand over her mouth. "Harry!" she shrieked and jumped off the bed, her large breasts swinging away from her body. She clutched a pillow of her vagina and belly, as if modesty, now, was finally what was required.

Harry grunted an unintelligible curse and came swinging for me, even though his senses told him he was swinging at shadows. Still possessed of an inhuman anger, I met his tackle head on, slamming into him in mid-air and trouncing him, rolling him backward, watching him connect first with the bannister and then tip over the stairs. I could feel the sweat fly off of him - even see the glistening wetness where his penis had been inside my wife!

My wife! Margaret dashed from the broken bedroom door and crashed into my back. She let out a scream as she felt something there and bounced back. I turned to her, glowering, my eyes blessedly invisible lest I transformed her into stone. But the look on her face was not what I expected. A near vacant, knowing expression painted her flushed features. "Demon..." she whispered. The pillow dropped from her hands, revealing her puffy and soaking genitalia

Of course. Margaret was a believer. A devout believer; a Christian who believed whole heartedly that a very large percentage of any given restaurant and hence the world was going to Hell. But Hell hath no fury as I.

I stormed down the steps to find Harry shaking himself and rising to his feet. The stairs hadn't broken him. Good. I landed against his jaw with a solid left hook and he stumbled into the kitchen. Margaret came wailing down the stairs after us, now fully aware that her lover was fighting something he had no possible means to defeat.

"Let him go!" she shrieked to me, scratching at the backs of my shoulders. She dug deeply. My blood came back from her nails. She screamed again and beat against my back. "Get behind me, Satan!" I shoved her aside and she splayed over the couch.

Harry gave one more dazed and pathetic punch and fell forward into a sprint. He crashed into the front door and then pulled himself through it, absolutely naked, tripping and stumbling over himself out into the street. He wouldn't say a word. I knew that instantly. But my anger, my betrayal, my confusion had not abated. Margaret ran for the door, closed it, and spun, her back to the wood and her breasts shuddering on her chest. I watched her heart ripple the skin of her belly and chest and With her right hand she locked the front door securely.

She swallowed, shaking, and came forward. "...Ezekiel twenty-three," she rasped. Her whole body quivered with the wilderness of belief and fear and...something I found wholly unexpected. She cupped her breast with her left hand, then cupped the other and stumbled back against the door in the early afternoon sunlight. "The whore of babylon," she said. I watched her rub her flushed thighs together. "Jezebel. Isn't that right, demon? ...Demon?" She shivered and I shook with my own rage:

"HOW COULD YOU?" I roared.

She shrank, her legs quaking and her breasts jiggling when she released them. She let out a cry of her own and came towards the sound, fists raised, body a jumble of shouts and fecund flesh. I gathered her up into my arms while she struck me about the chest, back and head. I didn't know myself. I slung her over my shoulder. I planted a sharp smack against her rump and this only set her beating against me all the harder.

"Devil spawn!" she cried. "Who are you to judge me? Behind me, Satan!" I mounted the steps as if her stinking sex wasn't dripping against my cheek. "Behind me, Satan!" I threw her down at the top of the steps and she writhed on the carpet. "Ezekiel twenty-three..." she groaned, and began to twist her hips in a way I hadn't seen since nearly nineteen years ago. "I defiled myself with your idols... I gave myself as a prostitute..." She slipped her hands down her wet chest and drove her shaking fingers down to her opening, to her wet and glistening sex.

She began to finger herself.

"Ah!" Margaret's mouth opened and I watched her breathe the house's moist, angry air. "She lusted after her lovers," she quoted, licking her lips, "whose genitals were like those of donkeys and..." Strumming her clitoris, she arched her back up and offered her pussy up towards my face. "...and whose emission was like that of horses. Ahn. Use me as a prostitute," she whispered. "Use me, demon..." Her eyes burned into me. Right at me. As if I weren't invisible. As if she knew my eyes.

I loomed over her. She could feel me there, feel my dick swollen and hard over her own sexual sin. She reached up at once and grasped me, pulled me to her. "Defile me," she moaned. "I give myself as a prostitute!"

I thrust inside Margaret as if I'd never seen her before, as if I'd never known her, made love to her, lived with her, dated her, driven with her, loved her, wanted her, married her. I pushed my hard, aching member deep inside her and she screamed with guttural lust.

She screamed. "Expose my nakedness!" My balls began to slap against her ass and she reached behind me to push me deeper. Her thighs widened to accomodate me. I pushed deeper. I felt her hips dig back against the carpet and she slung her thighs up over my back and rubbed her hardened nipples against my invisible chest. I fucked her so hard that her back was burned against the carpet. "Fuck this sinner!" she cried. Her eyes, watering, rolled back into her head. "Mmm, I am more depraved than my sister..." she babbled. "Fill me, demon." She wrapped her legs over my invisible hips and raked her fingers over my skin. My penis slipped out of her and drew over the soft, soaked skin of her thighs. I watched the viscous outline of my prick drool her vaginal juices back over her body and roughly pushed it back inside of her. She screamed. "How will you defile me?" she gasped.

I popped out of her pussy. "RUN," I grunted.

Immediately Margaret slipped from under me and ran towards the bedroom. The red rug burn of her back burned in my vision. "Back, Satan!" she cried from the doorway. I came running. I saw her eyes trace my footfalls in the carpet and watched her scream with a feral immediacy. She lifted her arms to me as I grabbed her up and she bit me hard on the mouth. "Get behind me, Satan!" she spat. "Get behind me!"

I threw her on the bed and she crawled forward on her belly. "On your knees!" I demanded.

She did so, raising herself to me. "Defile me..." she moaned. "Defile me with your idols... My weakness," she moaned. She began to rub her pussy and reach behind her to slather it over her crack. "Defile me..." she whispered, all the while rubbing herself between her anus and her vagina. "Get behind me, Satan..."

I understood. I mounted her hard from behind and squeezed my cock against her asshole.

"Aigh!" Margaret cried.

I pushed harder and the tip of my penis pressed inside of her. Her anus clamped around me but her whole body doubled over to let me push further in. "No! Defile me!" she screamed. "Pour out your lust upon me."

I pushed into her, not caring how much it hurt. Margaret wringed the bedsheets between her little fists and cried aloud: "Get behind me, Satan!"

I shoved myself deep inside her. My wife twisted, her back arched, her breasts quivered out from her chest and I squeezed her hips mercilessly between my fists. I was sweating and panting profusely, just as her stranger had been, when she said, "I give myself as a prostitute... Use me as a p-prostit-tute. Oh, God... Oh, God, sodomize me!"

I pounded into her body and she tore at the sheets, her voice ululating a mixture of howl and orgasmic surrender. She even reached between her legs, alternately to stimulate her clitoris and feel my balls swinging against her.

"How I have lusted," she panted as I pumped into her anus. "How I have been defiled..." she groaned, roving lower and lower to the bed as I pulled in and out of her ass, punished her, punished her the way she wanted to be punished. I slapped her ass hard and she let out a grunt of erotic approval.

"Fuck...me..." she panted. "Unh. No..." My dick squelched in and out of her anus. "Oh...oh, God...OH GOD!" she screamed.

I slapped her ass viciously. Then I pulled out of her and slapped it again; and I began to spank her. And with every smack to her rump she whimpered as if being impaled by my cock. "My lewdness and promiscuity have brought this upon me, Ezekiel," she cried. "Give it to me!"

I forced myself back inside her anus and she shrieked with either pain or orgasm. "You've taken my body..." she whispered. "Give me your emission...pour it over me...feed me..." She swayed over my cock as if she would faint at any moment, wiggling her hips to and fro with my dick planted firmly in her behind. I could burst inside of her. But that wasn't what either of us wanted.

I pulled out of her and flipped her roughly onto her back. I let her legs dangle over the side of the bed and sat myself directly on her chest, over her heavy breasts. She reached up and fondled my erection. "Your seed..." she said with almost reverence. She began to stroke me with one hand. I felt her nipples hard and compressed against my ass. She reached up and used both hands. My wife began to furiously pump my cock as it bulged harder and bigger in her grip. "Spill out your lust upon me - pour your emission over me - make me eat it!" All the while she cried out with building ecstasy, writhing beneath me, contorting and convulsing. I, meanwhile, reached down and twisted her hair back from her head and gripped her firmly at her scalp.

"Harder?" I groaned.

"Yes..." she hissed.

I bunched her hair in my fingers and pulled harder. "Harder?" I clutched her hair in my palm and drove it against the mattress.

"Yes," she cried, squeezing her eyes tight and jerking me back and forth and aiming my wet cockhead against her mouth. I ejaculated with unholy madness, coating her face and chin. Margaret opened her mouth wide and flicked her tongue like a snake. She freed herself from my grip and actually took the head into her mouth, closing her eyes against the force of the cum and its no doubt evil taste. She pumped my shaft into her lips until the last of my seed had been swallowed, swallowing it again and again as more ropes of my jism left me and jettisoned down her throat, and then she collapsed against the bed, globules of my sperm still glazing her eyebrows, nose, lips, and cheeks. Both of us were left heaving and gasping. But I had to pull away from her.

I had to run - flee is a better word. I pulled myself off of her and ran from the room. I could hear her protest weakly but I paid it no mind. I wanted to run outside but where would I go? The car was still at the Institute. The cellar wasn't far enough away. And yet it was the only place I could go. My laboratory. My prison. My stupid, impotent and blind prison!

How had I not seen? How could she have... How could I have... What had happened? Where was I? What was I?

A demon. A ghost. A scientist? Certainly not a husband and barely a father. A genius? A pain in the ass. I NEEDED TO SEE MYSELF.

But I was void.