Prologue
Jocelyn sat at her writing desk and prepared to give her latest work one last read through, after the final round of edits, and before submission…
Ghosts in the Graveyard, by Jocelyn Belle
It’s fall in New England. One of those still warm nights, with that chill bite to the breeze, forcibly rustling through the night sky, stirring what leaves remain on the trees, as well as the ones blowing through the streets. The air is an electric current, and everyone’s blood is singing with the need to plug into that socket, and taste directly from the source, to be electrified and alive. It’s a night for wolves to howl at a full moon, and it is Halloween.
There is a party going on in the center of the big old cemetery, where all of the old Gothic mausoleums protect the long-dead remains of old money. It is away from prying eyes and police enforcement.
I’m not dressed sexily. I’m dressed for anonymity, in a white sheet—the most clichéd of all Halloween costumes, save perhaps for a witch, or a vampire. As a ghost, I can wander through the drunken cemetery crashers, and observe without molestation. No one wants to talk to the big white sheet, they’re too busy doing body shots off scantily clad Elviras who are draped invitingly over tombstones.
I spot you—finally—propped contrastingly against the white marble pillar of an exceptionally large mausoleum. Dressed all in black—a grim reaper’s cape actually, another cliché, one which you wear to perfection, along with that dark brooding look on your handsome, chiseled face. You bear a look that says unequivocally, that despite the fact that you came out and dressed up, you’d rather be anywhere else and want to be left alone.
Too bad. I came here for one reason. You.
I float over to you, carried on the current in the air. I mean to plug into the source tonight. For me, that source is you. You will make me the most alive I’ve ever been. I need your juice.
As I silently make my way to you, from behind, I lean in close to your ear and whisper, “Boo.”
You are not frightened in the least, your body registered no reaction whatsoever. No tensing surprise, except for the slight grin that lifts one corner of your mouth (the corner I can see), before settling back into that foreboding scowl. I swear you felt my approach, sensed my current before I even came close, and maybe were even aware of my presence the entire time.
“Nice digs,” you mock, out of the side of your mouth, not even bothering to look over at me.
“This old rag?” I ask, twirling to wind up in front of you and giving a cheeky curtsey. “If you like this, you should see what’s underneath.”
You looked at me then, a direct, bold gaze, and I winked back and gave a saucy grin. The effect of the smile may have been lost, since it was covered by the sheet. Only my eyes were visible.
“And let’s say I take you up on that offer?” you inquired.
“Come with me,” I said, extending my hand. The way I said it made it sound like, “Cum with me,” like I was offering something much more than my hand, which I was.
You trailed behind me, hand in mine, as I led you away from the rest of the crashers, and into a more secluded, darker, part of the cemetery. I dropped your hand then continued walking a few more paces before turning around. You made as if to stalk towards me, so you could rip the sheet off of my body, but I held out a hand in a stopping motion.
You quirked an eyebrow yet stayed put.
I bent, grabbing the hem of my costume, slowly sliding it up my legs, to uncover black ankle boots, and thigh-high hose attached to garters. I heard your swift intake of breath as you noticed the huge, glittering, blood-red cock, harnessed to my body. I finished pulling the sheet over my head, unveiling a black and red corset, tightly laced, and breasts practically spilling over the low-cut, lacy top edging.
You growled at me in the universal, “I want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week, then keep fucking you,” sound. I don’t even think you were aware that you were walking predatorily towards me, until I told you in a commanding tone, “Stop.”
You shook your head in a slightly confused manner and followed my direction. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass before?” I asked.
One terse shake of your head ‘no,’ was all the response I received, but your eyes were deep, dark pools of lust, and I was betting you were rock hard under that cape. I’d know soon enough.
“Tonight’s your lucky night,” I told you, grinning wickedly. “Take your clothes off, every last stitch, and go drape yourself over that stone bench,” I demanded, pointing to it. “Oh…and give me a show,” I said, gifting you with another of my saucy winks.
You gave me a look that said you were a bit out of your comfort zone. You were used to being the one always in charge, but I could see the second that you gave into your lust, and your desire to find out where this crazy night would take you. Once your decision was made, you committed everything to playing the role I set out for you.
You gripped both sides of your robe, cocked one eyebrow, and then lowered your gaze devilishly, while lifting the corner of one side of your mouth, producing a dimple that could melt a nun’s drawers. I was no nun.
As the robe slid upwards, it revealed black Doc Marten boots, a well-worn pair of dark denim jeans, a thick, soft, supple, brown leather belt, and a tight white tee. I hate white, but sometimes the classics just work.
I had to think about whether my mouth was hanging open or not, or whether there existed the embarrassing possibility of drool? I licked my lips, just to make sure.
Sweet Jesus, if you were selling insurance right now, I would have bought the top package, and signed in blood. You looked – That – Fucking – Good.
You finished pulling the robe off over your head, and tossed it nonchalantly aside, maintaining eye contact the entire time. I was well and truly under your spell. You took a hungry step forward, sliding your hands, with their slim tapered fingers, to your belt, dexterously undoing it, and the button on your jeans.
I licked my lips again and gulped nervously as you continued to advance towards me. I had to steel myself not to take a step back. I was trembling slightly. I was sure that was not helping the ruse of the bold, dominating image I’d tried to foster earlier.
You leaned in like you were going to kiss me and I was frozen, waiting for it to happen, my eyes unconsciously lowering. This man is like a fucking snake charmer. You ducked aside and began to circle me instead. My head whipped around to track your movements, but I couldn’t follow you; my feet rooted to the ground.
As you stepped behind me I felt you lean in close, the heat from your body pouring off of you, your energy spilling over and into me. Your mouth was next to my ear, and I moaned as your breath found my neck. You spoke.
“I can’t wait for you to fuck my ass,” you whispered, like a wet dream in my ear. “I want you to give it to me good. I want you to fuck me hard and deep, slow and sensual. I want to feel what you feel when I fuck you.”
I nearly orgasmed on those words, and on the wet, open-mouthed kiss you placed on my bare neck.
It fired me up. Those words, that kiss... It gave me back my spine. As you moved back around to my front, I had my resolve firmly back in place; as firmly as your jutting cock, which was now on proud display, your jeans open, your low-riding boxers shoved down to give it room. Beautiful! One tiny pearly drop, suspended at the tip, glistening—God how I wanted to lick—but no.
“Kneel,” I boldly commanded, pointing to the soft earth right in front of me. “You’ve got some work to do before I let you hug that bench.” I winked at you then. You grinned saucily back. Neither of us was fooled as you knelt in front of me. I knew you were humoring me, because you wanted to be where I told you, and that was ok.
“Suck on it,” I urged, commandingly, with one hand gripping my red member and offering it to you, and the other threading through your dark, shaggy hair, caressing you. I watched as you closed your eyes and gave yourself over to my petting. You love my touch.
You took a deep breath in, then opened your eyes to look up at me with an adoration that nearly burst my heart in my chest, and said, “Yes mistress.”
I would not have let any other man call me that, it’s not who I am, but in that precise moment of time it just worked. It felt right, so I guided your head to my cock, even as you were leaning in to take it.
You kissed just the tip as you looked up and watched me. You snaked your tongue slowly out, in a languid caress. Even though I couldn’t feel it, I felt it. I watched as you filled your mouth with saliva. You wetly licked my entire length, then took me into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, and bobbed your head sensuously up and down on my cock.
I needed to be inside you now. I gripped your hair and pulled back on your head, “Enough,” I growled, “on the bench, now!”
You smiled hugely as you slid your hands around my hips, firmly grasping me, levering your body back up, from a kneeling position, for me. You didn’t obey right away. Instead, you slid your chest along mine as you rose. You leaned in for a searing kiss, while pulling your shirt off, breaking the kiss only when you had to pull it over your head. You turned away then and walked to the bench, where you sat down facing me.
I wanted to growl at you to kneel down and bend over it, like you knew I wanted, until I saw you reach for your boots. You were taking them off for me. You know how much I hate it when guys leave their socks on in bed. You were going to finish stripping. That, right there, made me want to attack you like a fucking beast!
I stepped towards you, but it was your turn to wave a finger at me. I stilled.
You unlaced slowly, while hypnotically holding my gaze, sliding both boots and socks off then working your jeans down lean hips, stepping out of them, completely naked, and utterly beautiful before me. So humbling.
You turned then, you did not kneel but merely bent down, gripping the sides of the bench firmly, widening your stance, and impudently proffering your deliciously round derriere.
I was there in an instant, grasping your cheeks, caressing them, and spreading them. I slipped my hand up to your mouth, you instantly took my fingers in, sucking on them, making me think of fucking, making my pussy gush.
I reluctantly pulled them away from your talented tongue, and sent them on a wandering path down your spine, delving into the fissure of your ass and slipping to your puckered entrance. You moaned at the touch to your sensitive flesh.
I slid my other hand around to grasp your hard cock, sliding up and down in a soft rhythm, as I kissed between your shoulder blades. “This is the rhythm I want you to use on your cock as I fuck you in your ass,” I told you, then removed my hand. You replaced it with your own and did exactly as told.
I slowly breached your ass with my wet finger, working you, widening you, and preparing you. I added another.
You moaned with my movements and pleaded, “Just fuck me, please.”
I brought my hand back up to my mouth and let a puddle of saliva pour into its cupped palm. Then I brought my hand back down to my damp cock, wetting it thoroughly, sliding my fingers up and down, and coating it with my natural lube. Stepping forward, I grabbed one hip and positioned myself at your entrance using the other hand.
I bent over your back, draping my corseted breasts over you, making our hips flush, and began to press inward.
“Don’t fight me baby, loosen it for me, let me in,” I gently coerced.
I could feel you give way as you complied. I began to slide in deep. You moaned in delight as my cock filled you, reaching spaces that made your legs tremble, and your throat make guttural noises that turned me on with the speed of a light switch.
I slowly slid back out until just the tip remained, then pushed back in more firmly, and with a little more force.
You groaned and I could tell you were pumping your dick faster now—could tell you were enjoying every sensation of my penetration.
“Harder,” you begged.
I grabbed both hips, pushing you away as I pulled out. Then, pulling your hips toward mine hard, I slammed my cock home, thrusting into your ass in one powerful, pounding stroke that unleashed me. I began to piston into you. Pumping myself in and out with a frenzied abandon that only increased with every grunt, every moan, and every quick jerk of your hand, which was wrapped so firmly around your rock hard cock.
I was so turned on, I wanted to cum. I was going to cum, my nipples had popped slightly over the top of my corset with all of my rough, pounding movements, and the abrasion was shooting sparks through my clit. I could tell you were close too, and I wanted you to erupt.
I wrapped my arms around you tightly, bringing my lips to your ear, continuing to fuck your ass, with fierce pounding strokes. “Cum for me baby, I can’t cum till you cum.”
I reached up gripping your nipples hard, pulling on them, as I bit your ear. My bite was not quite hard enough to draw blood, as I tugged down on your lobe, flicking my tongue over and over the sensitive flesh.
Your hips bucked madly, and you let out a shrill, animal moan. I felt jets of your cum hit our twined flesh, and you started to collapse towards the bench, your knees buckling with the intensity of your orgasm.
That’s when my own began to hit. Giving one last deep thrust, which ground the base of the strap-on right into my throbbing clit, I reared my head back and screamed into the night, as we both collapsed half on the bench, half on the ground, in a sweaty, sated heap of steaming limbs.
Our mouths found each other, our arms locked around each other, gripping tightly as I sat in your lap, feeling the wetness of your cock at my hip, and our damp flesh sticking together.
