I stumbled out of class, anxious to return to my apparently-haunted dorm. I needed to know, was it real? Was she real?

I half-ran back to my dorm, the sun beginning to dip into the horizon. Most of the other students would either be heading back to their rooms for the night as I was, or getting comfortable in the library for a study binge.

Stepping into the building, I was assaulted with warmth. I had started leaving my jacket in my dorm room; with the short walks between buildings and the intense heat of the dormitory, I hadn't really needed it.

Carefully opening the door,  my heart pounded in my chest. It was exactly as I had left it: small bed, clothes strewn about, cramped desk packed with books. I wasn't sure why I felt surprised. It was the second week into the semester, and her ghost (if that's really what it was) had only appeared twice. Although, after what Ms. Burrow had told me, I half-expected to walk into a creepy poltergeist situation.

I slung off my backpack and took off my already-sweaty shirt, a habit I had gotten into after learning the heat wouldn't be fixed any time soon. Looking around the room and taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I spoke aloud. 

"Mary-Jane...?"

A second passed...then two...three...ten...nothing. I don't know too much about ghosts; I've always been pretty neutral on the subject of their existence. But wasn't there supposed to be a gust of wind? A drop in temperature? It would have been easy to tell in this sweatbox, but nothing. My heart sank a little. I guess I'm just another horny college student with an overactive imagination.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. Mystery solved, there was nothing more to it. Now, if I wanted any hope of getting a passing grade this semester, I needed to study.

Hunched over the cramped desk for a few hours, I had never felt more frustrated. This lecture material just wasn't clicking. I'd re-read the chapters a dozen times now, done all the exercises twice over, and still couldn't get it. It hadn't helped that thoughts of Mary-Jane and my not-so-ghostly sexual experiences kept creeping into my mind. I wondered what she looked like. I've had always had a thing for blondes. Not even in a super dirty way, I had just always found girls with blonde hair to be incredibly cute. Especially when it fell around their face, kind of messy. Like she had just come back from running.

The first girl I'd ever kissed was blonde, the kiss that barely counted. The only high school party I had ever been to, freshman year. Someone had suggested playing spin the bottle with a twist: whoever spun it was blindfolded. Anna Brunswick, by far the most attractive girl in our grade, and she knew it. On a stroke of luck, her bottle had landed on me. Her friend sitting next to her led Anna over, and she felt around until her hands cupped my face. My heart was racing as she pulled my face to meet her soft lips. It was over too quickly; she lingered only a second before bursting into giggles as she pulled off the blindfold. When her eyes landed on mine, her smile dropped.

"Oh."

One word, just a simple 'Oh' but it was more than enough to crush my confidence. I had never felt so unwanted.

Having all these thoughts at once was starting to make me depressed, and I had felt down enough as it was. It was getting late, but I knew sleep would avoid me; my mind was far too active. Time for a little five-finger sleeping aid.

As I'd been single for my entire life, I watched my fair share of porn, but since I had started college it wasn't really necessary. I found recently that my imagination was more than enough, especially in the past few days. Thinking about it now, the idea of a ghost somehow manifesting to sexually please me was ridiculous. Still, those had been the hottest moments of my entire sexual experience. The way her head bobbed up and down, looking into my eyes while she sucked my dick. And then earlier today, almost getting me to cum just with her hands and then riding me to the finish line.

Remembering all this had already made the blood rush to my dick. I needed no more motivation to unbutton my jeans and start stroking. I could imagine different scenes from porn I had watched. The man sitting in the chair, like I was now, the woman walking up to him and grinding on his lap, rubbing her ass on top of him, feeling his cock harden through layers of clothing.

She'd unzip the man's jeans when she decided he was hard enough. Her soft hands would give it a few strokes before she turned and took off her panties. My cock throbbed at the thought. I tightened my grip imagining the woman slowly lowering herself onto me, the warmth of her tight pussy completely enveloping my dick. I could almost feel it...wait, not almost, I actually can feel it! My eyes shot open and saw I hadn't been touching myself at all.

There was a woman in front of me, more on top at this point. Her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, she was naked save for a pale blue bra. She had buried my entire length inside her, seeming to savor the moment. She was really here; it was real. She looked somewhat whispy, as though she were made of steam, but I could see her clearly.

She shuffled on my dick, sending ripples of pleasure through my body as she turned her head to face me, a sly smile across her lips.

"Well, Frank? Am I gonna have to do this myself?"