All Hallows’ Eve was looming closer, Edward could literally feel it in his dessicated bones! In recent years he’d found it easier to energise himself and apparate to a level where he could visit the old neighbourhood. Whether this was because, as a ghost, his power had increased now he’d been dead for two centuries, or because during recent decades people celebrated Hallowe’en over several nights spanning between the weekends either side of the date, he couldn’t say.
He owed much to the snobby nature of his relatives who had buried him in such a showy way, his tomb being a raised limestone sarcophagus in a sheltered area of the graveyard. The nearest neighbours were a shady yew tree and a flat gravestone watched over by a verdigris statue of the madonna, the other graves only had headstones, in various states of tilt and mossy covering. Edward’s resting place became a magnet for the lovers from the village who met there in privacy, smooching and exchanging intimate caresses, providing as it did, a stony single bed in a secluded corner.
When lusty young men of yesteryear brought their coquettish beaus to Edward’s graveside he witnessed every furtive fumble in their undergarments, overhearing their gasps and sighs of unbridled pleasure. In the early years of his residence there, the boys from the mill would endeavour to persuade their girls to unbutton their blouses, or allow their petticoats pushed up to their waists exposing fleshy thighs and woollen stocking tops. Often the simple act of gazing on these forbidden fruits or pawing at the tender flesh exposed was enough to make the lads spend in their trousers, while the girls hid their faces in shame. Edward could feed off this energy: stirrings of hunger, embarrassment and triumph. Their high emotions helped him pierce the veil on Hallowe’en to walk among the living, along the streets he’d known towards the house where he’d lived.
During the war years the soldiers who came courting at his grave were bolder, their quest to experience love before returning to the front drove them to press the girls harder. Rough hands went snaking inside skirts, skimming stocking tops to slide fingers under french knicker lace to the silky curls beneath, coaxing down the honeyed arousal with their eager fingers.
As the war droned on, land girls and factory girls felt as desperate as the soldiers, longing for male attention now most young, healthy lads were far away. Rationing meant that often their stockings were actually gravy-browned legs with a seam drawn up the back with eyebrow pencil! Many girls had learned to find pleasure alone, fingers delving and rubbing shamelessly between their dewy folds on lonely nights, so a real man pressing them urgently against a cold lichened tomb often found that fondling a curvy breast and ample buttock led to a knee-trembler. Each party enjoyed the caresses which led to thrusting and gasping, striving to squeeze maximum pleasure from their frantic coupling.
Edward’s heart leaped at the moans and grunts of these standing fucks, which boosted his spirit with energy to be free. Each time a girthy cock was grasped by a delicate female hand to be squeezed and pumped till it spat hot white seed into the ivy trailing over his tombstone, Edward gained a better grasp on materialising. Every beauty who allowed her pert breasts to be displayed for fondling and licking, or her skirts to be pulled up to allow a lad to lap at her labia or finger her until she spent, gave a surge of energy to his ectoplasm which allowed him to levitate back from the valley of death into our world.
As Edward’s strength grew, over passing years, he found he could participate in pleasuring the girls. At first he could only ‘present’ himself as a chilling draught which gave them shivers down their spine or goosebumps on their already-pebbling nipples, but he honed his skill over time, utilising the lovers’ stolen energy until he could press his ghostly lips to theirs. Many a girl was startled from the throes of ecstatic lust as their sharp suited boyfriends finger-fucked them – mini-skirts pushed up and their tights pulled down – to feel a thrill from the cold pressure of Edward’s kiss before experiencing the icy probe of his tongue into their mouths. Some had yelped with surprise and fear, but they didn’t stop. A chilling fright was what they’d come seeking, these lovers who made out in a graveyard at Hallowe’en.
His favourite encounter so far was with the two girls who’d kissed so tenderly against his grave before the tall, slender one began her sapphic worship between her curvy friend’s thighs. He’d felt a stirring within his long dormant core as he watched the kneeling girl’s busy tongue licking and sucking while her companion sighed and moaned, transported with delight by the sensations her friend was evoking. Edward fondled the curvy girl’s breasts, delighted to be able to feel her hardened nipples which responded eagerly to his increasingly hard pinches and tugs.
He felt a restorative pang of energy when the standing girls reached her gasping climax but was disappointed when the lovers left before he could feed off the kneeling girl’s orgasm too. He could tell that his presence had been detected, but maybe this was progress, evidence that his manifestation was getting stronger.
To continue the story read part 2 & part 3.