Me or Ghost

Disclaimer: If you are under the legal age of majority in your area or have objections to this type of expression, please stop reading now. This story is the complete and total product of the author's imagination and a work of fantasy, thus it is completely fictitious, i.e. it never happened and it doesn't mean to condone or endorse any of the acts that take place in it. The author certainly wouldn't want the things in this story happening to his character(s) to happen to anyone in real life. This story is fiction.

Synopsis: Upon dying, this story tracks the fleeting moments marking a restless soul’s transition into the afterlife, and visit to his teen-crush, who had always been an out-of-reach famous boy, until now.

Author’s Note: Hey Guys! I hope you like the story and please email any comments and requests to me at chocol8moonlight(at)yahoo(dot)com. Thanks!

Story:

I felt myself dissolving. Darkness. A thought. A wish. A vision. A flash. And there… Madrid. Spain. Midnight. I’m actually here. Finally. I’m standing in this street. This very street. Near the driveway that leads up to Tate’s House. I can’t believe it. I need to savour it. This moment of reckoning… Grey rays of pale moonlight filtered through the trees that were being battered and blown in the fierce wind. A storm. But I felt none of it. I felt as if I’m floating in a breezeless street. Calm. Focused. And weightless.

“Come with me”, said the reaper standing next to me. His voice was calm and crisp, as if there was no whistling wind, no thunderous hum around us.

“I have unfinished business here”, I replied faintly.

“You’re just a shade. A ghost. There’s nothing left for you here. No one will notice you anymore”, he continued.

“Oh I know I’m dead. But it’s about how. So young. So unfulfilled. I left. I died obsessed and madly in love with the boy who lives in that house over there. Right there. He never even knew I existed. But I had these extreme feelings. The bits and pieces I never bothered to put into words. It’s so powerful, what I feel. That’s why I believe my actions still have meaning. I know he will feel me. I just know…”

I took a deep breath, of nothing. I felt a thumping in my chest – a ghostly fake heart. I was so excited. And I began my final and longest journey alone. I started walking. Kept my pace. I walked up the driveway, through the walls of the house. Inside. Searching every room. So far, empty. No one home. I started feeling sad, worried, in the darkness it seemed as if some great bird had flown over and swept away what once lived here, with the shadow of its wing. But wait. Can you feel that? I entered the last bedroom on the left. There’s an energy. So much life. The bedroom lights were off, and something lay lightly in the shadowed valleys of sheets on the bed, in blissful slumber. In nothing but boxers, there lay my prize of love for one single night, in a lifetime. Despite all his fame and all his power, Tate looked so vulnerable and delicate here, just like any other 18-year old boy, obeying the rules of sleep and bedtime.

I switched on the digital video camera and put it down on the side of the bed focused on Tate. Then I climbed on top of him. I touched his face. The softest. I felt his breath on my fingers. Like a countdown. Calm breathing of ocean waves. Stop. I ripped off his deep blue boxers with a supernatural force I didn’t know I had. I barely had time to get a good look at his dick before he woke, began kicking and screaming. I pinned him down. I loved the sheer male power of him. Like a real thoroughbred colt he fought, struggling, punching me off wildly. But it made no difference. It all just went straight threw me. I was invisible to him. And his eyes, oh those gorgeous icy blue eyes, they were so confused, so frightened.

I let him go, just to see what he would do. He ran for the door, only to find it locked without a key, then to the burglar-barred windows which, for some supernatural reason, couldn’t even be opened, couldn’t be broken. “HELP ME SOMEBODY!” he shouted, “Mum! Dad. Help me…”. I kept the camera focused on him, on his soft perfect cock, and on his taught bubble butt. I’d never seen such a cute boy-ass. The way it wiggled, just right. The way it was shaped, my dear god, the sheer roundness of it.

I caught him and threw him on his back on the bed. (CameraView: Tate being flung onto the bed by an invisible force). He felt my every touch. I held him down 100% naked on the bed under me. He looked up, tears rolling down his face. “Tate… Calm down baby”, I whispered in his ear, and from the reaction on his face, I knew he heard me. He looked so beautiful – the best example of how every young boy should be. So energetic, so fresh. I craved his mouth, his voice, his hair. I picked his legs up into the air, exposing his slim ass to the camera. I almost melted at how hot he looked. I drew circles on his sleek thighs and his butt-cheeks with my tongue, marking my path down to his hole. It was so soft there, between the pillows of his ass, so slippery and inviting. Then I dipped my tongue into him. His whole body tensed up. It was so amazing, that control I had over him. I wiggled my tongue to deepen the penetration. It had never been in such a soft place before. I started licking him harder, as if I was sucking for honey. And then came the unexpected. When I looked up, his cock was fully and beautifully erect. Right in front of my face. What a cock. Definitely number one on my top10 list of the slickest things in existence. Perfection. Smooth. Neat. Lollipop-like. Slit like a snake-eye. It was like one of those carved dildos, but better. I just wanted to eat him all up.

I played with it between my fingers and wanked it a bit in its own pre-cum. Tate moaned the entire time, as if he was sharply in pain, but I could tell that it was just him enjoying it, mingled with his fear and intrigue over the unknown. Now he was keeping his legs raised all by himself. I took the head of his penis into my mouth and inserted two fingers into his soft buttery anus at the same time. “OHH FUCK!!! What the fuck is that?? Mmmmm”, he moaned. His cock fitted into my mouth so well, as if it was designed to be sucked. It worked so smoothly, the skin moved so easily, like changing gears on a brand-new Lamborghini. (CameraView: Tate’s legs in the air, his feet arched backwards in ecstasy, his asshole a little open, moving slightly, and his hard dick’s foreskin being sucked back and forth by something invisible, as he moans like a little puppy)

He was humping against my hand, moving his hole against my fingers, pressing his cock back into my mouth, trying to force me to go faster. I noticed he was losing control, so I stopped for a moment. I just left him there on the bed in his peak. I watched him. He looked around, disappointed, embarrassed. He clenched his thighs together and slowly tried to cover his hard-on with his bed-sheet. His mouth was half open. It looked almost hungry for something. I touched his hand. 

 Dripping. His skin was glowing wet. Dark shadows outlined his magnificent young body. Holding his feet up, I could feel the mad pulse pounding in his lovely ankles. His high-arched feet were so cute stuck up in the air, they looked tense but perfect, like a little lion cub’s big paws preparing to pounce. And oh how he purred, purred and screamed, and screamed some more. His long sexy legs and thick slender thighs strained to my control - they were so lean and hot, with streamline muscular dimples reappearing at every thrust. Definitely from all that soccer he plays. “FUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!! YOU-UU HAV-VV NO-OO IDEA HOW GOOOOD THAT FEEELS!!!! AW! AW! AW! AW! AWW!” he yelled.

He shivered. I hooked my fingers in-between the spaces of his. So cute and sweaty they were. I kissed and sucked on them lightly. Then I bit on the outer side of his palm. “You bit me”, he half-smiled and said it, that killer-smile. I adored the way his lips moved when he spoke, the curves and dimples at the sides of his mouth, “…What are you?”

“I’m only your biggest fan in the entire world, Tate. And I wish you would love me too. But in my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind”, I said softly. Pause. He looked around. There was a hint of naughtiness in his expression. Curiosity. Then he moved the sheets off him slowly and leaned forward. I knelt up on the bed and guided his face. He knew what I wanted, because he let his mouth hang open. I pressed the coolness of his young lips against the tip of my cock. I grabbed two fistfuls of his silky hair as my entire stem slid down Tate’s warm throat. I held the camera closer. (CameraView: Tate’s head bobbing up and down, his mouth open in a perfect O-shape, young lips sliding back and forth, the back of his throat expanding intensely as something fucks in and out of it. Vicious slurping noises and only Tate’s cute but stifled moans can be heard)

And then I started gushing. Long jets of liquid started shooting out of my cock down Tate’s throat, and it just didn’t stop. It went on for about five full minutes! It wasn’t cum. Pre-cum maybe. Or ectoplasm. Or ghost piss. Honestly I have no idea what it was, but it felt incredible to have The Tate Riordan milk and drink all of it straight out of my dick. (CameraView: Tate begins gulping something down, his little Adam’s apple vibrates as he struggles to keep up with the drinking. Tate moans frantically. He chokes a little, but something holds his head in place, some liquid leaks out of his mouth)

I gave Tate some time to recover from the rather forceful mouth-fucking. After a few minutes, he began looking rather uncomfortable, then restless, then worried. “Are you there? Something’s wrong, something is seriously wrong with me. It’s what you made me swallow. What did you make me swallow??”, his voice was trembling.

“What’s wrong??”, I asked. I wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him in close.

“I think it’s my prostate. It’s fuckin’ itching. Like extremely insanely. I wish I could reach it, but the itch is fuckin’ inside me!”, he continued.

I placed my hand at his lower tummy soothingly. I loved how the little squares of his natural abs flexed and relaxed according to my touch. He was truly sexy all over, every bit and spot of him. I picked his legs up and rubbed my finger at the entrance of his hole. “Uhhhhhh. Yeahhhhhhh…” came his urgent and vibrating moan. I pushed a finger in. “UHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” he gasped, “Go deeper! The itch is further in!” he trembled out desperately. I put his feet on my chest, and I inserted my cock partially in his hole. He nearly rose off the bed. It was like wedging a knife of need deep inside him. “AWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!” he arched his back. I moved it around until I found the spot, and then I stroked it. “FUCKKK!!! Presss… down more. Yes ahh AHHH YESSS! Almost there…. Yeah OHH HARDER!!! SOOOOO GOOD!!!! MMMMMMMMM!!!! AHHHHHH!!!” he screamed. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. The time had come for the real fucking to begin. I finally pumped my big thick cock into his wet pussy over and over.

“Damn you’re so fucking tight”, I whined as I felt him wrap up around me, like a flame around a wick. He was shuddering as I thrust and sank into him, with the wild beating of our bodies against each other. Like the wind on the mountains shaking ancient oaks. I leaned forward and kissed him. I licked the corners of his mouth before I stuck my tongue in. Then I was a million light years away, inside of Tate. I was alone. It was just me then and this feeling, which was him. (CameraView: Tate’s cute ass being slammed as he bounces, his anus stretching widely outwards and inwards with each ebb, flow and shudder of his body). Tate was screaming so loudly that he ought to have lost his voice by now. He looked adorable.

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