“Clap these cheeks. Clap these cheeks. Clap these cheeks.”
The dark-skinned, ponytailed beauty stared into her bathroom mirror and shook her head in an “I knew this bullshit wouldn’t work” motion. It probably served her right for buying into nonsensical urban legends that floated around in the office earlier that day.
“You believe what they were saying?” her light-skinned, curly-haired friend asked while adjusting her glasses.
“A spirit that beats the pussy up upon request?” she said the last two words with an aristocratic flair, making her friend laugh. “Probably not, but what’s to lose? Ain’t had action in months.”
“Well, I don’t believe in legends or fairytales,” Ms. Light-skinned said. “All bullshit to me.”
They touched more on it during their walk home, and she mentioned how cool it would be if it were real while her friend kept dismissing it. Even when they parted ways, the curly-haired beauty wisecracked about spinning in front of a black cat within the five minutes it would take her to get home. Looking back at that earlier interaction, she felt silly even though no one was present to revel in her embarrassment. That was until a chill entered the bathroom, which shouldn’t have because the window was closed.
“Who dares call me from my slumber?” said a low, echoing voice. The vocal intrusion lifted our lovely heroine’s blue lace panties deeper into her crack as she birled to vacancy.
“Wh-who’s there?” Her five-foot-nothing frame pressed its plush little bottom against the sink. With every sharp breath taken, her nipples hardened against the tight wife beater that stopped inches shy of her belly button.
“Hey, don’t be scared,” said the low, echoing voice while clearly being scary, “I’m just playing with ya. I know why you called.”
When the petite damsel faced the mirror, a handsome, gangly, white-eyed, grey figure appeared, and she screamed before spinning one-eighty, and it placed a hand over her mouth.
“Relax,” it said. “I know I look all kinds of fucked up right now, but I’m only here because you called. And… I know what it is you want.”
With an index finger on his ashen lips, his hand slunk from her mouth, and she asked, “What…” She cleared her throat, straightened her stance and lifted her chin, but her voice still shook. “What is it that I want?”
“You want me to bust them cheeks, that’s what.”
Wow, so the legend’s actually true. “Excuse me?” She folded her arms and eyed the floor.
“Hey, it’s alright. Trust me when I say you and a good few women be getting the business from me.” His bleached face broadened with a grin. She scoffed at the man’s – or rather ghost’s – arrogance. Then again, she shouldn’t have, as he ended up in his ghoulish state due to messing around with a gang leader’s main girl and boasting about it to whoever would listen.
“Whatever.” She turned, pulled her panties down to her ankles and bent over so that her forearms latched onto the sides of the bathroom sink. Her smooth, obsidian buttocks jutted out toward him and swayed from side to side. “Just fuck me and get it over with.”
“Why should I?” His raised brow from the mirror’s reflection made her glare at him.
“Because that’s how the legend works, isn’t it? And how are you so solid if you’re supposed to be a ghost?” Her glare shrank into a squint.
“I need to be solid to beat them cheeks properly.” He pointed at said target with a head tilt. “But seriously, why should I? You’re a dime piece. Why you can’t get no dick from someone that’s living and breathing?”
“I’m not about relationships right now.”
“Don’t need to be in a relationship for some dick.”
“Well, I’m not about the ‘friends with benefits’ hassle.”
“Come on, there’s gotta be– ”
“No more talking. Just fuck me, please.”
The ghost shrugged and what qualified for pants disappeared into smoke, exposing a swirling space where his genitals should be.
“Alright, how many inches?”
“What?”
“I asked you, ‘how many inches?’”
“Seven, so you can fuck me really hard, but I’d still feel full.”
“Aight.” A veiny, erect cock replaced the swirl, and he teleported directly behind her, lodging his appendage inside of her cunt. She gasped, cussed, and then he followed up by grinding his ghoulish penis against her sugar walls with finger-like dexterity. Her eyes pinched shut, and her lips folded in while their hips rolled in synchronized fashion. Women privileged enough to get laid frequently would have been embarrassed at the squelching noises produced, but for her, this was a number-one Billboard hit. The feeling of being full could never be replicated by her fingers, nor the pressure of someone’s digits sinking into her soft posterior flesh. Heat surged from her engorged labia and clit, thus freeing her brain of logic and replacing it with raw, unfiltered lust. The mirror misted from her heavy breathing until their gyrating reflections became mere outlines, and she cried to the heavens after a body-shaking climax. While she appreciated the creative and somewhat respectful approach that brought the first orgasm, being sexless for months eventually exposed her impatience.
“Hey, enough of this romantic shit.” Her eyes bulged while staring over her shoulder. “I said I wanted to get fucked really hard, and you’re grinding forever. I want to be fucked, you dead motherfucker!”
“The fuck you say?”
She stood and said, “I want. To. Be. Fucked. Really. Hard. Understand that?”
The intruder palmed the back of her head like a basketball, shoved it into the sink and started to pummel her globular cheeks with an expression that belonged in a theme park haunted house. With him still holding her head, she rose slightly, stared at his reflection and growled, “Yesss, fuck this goddamn pussy, you nasty fuck. Shit!”
His snarling visage should have scared her, but it moistened her cunt even more as the juicy slapping of flesh filled her ears. Her little bottom bubbling against his washed-out pelvis with every thrust proved too much as she rolled her eyes white, rivaling his. Oh, how she missed the warmth of a man slamming her from behind, filling her to the brim with his raging, cunt stretching cock.
“Oh fuck, I’m cumming agaaain,” she droned as dribble spilled over her bottom lip. The great lay of a ghost spun his dick in a clockwise motion against her g-spot, intensifying her spasms so much she feared ripping the sink away from the wall would have been the grand finale.
“That’s whatcha fine ass gets for disrespecting me.” He gave another hard thrust that went plap, and pulled out of her, folded his arms and smiled.
“Wait.” She struggled to stand but leaned against the faucet knobs with spaghetti legs, then spoke to his reflection. “Don’t you wanna cum? Stay for a bit and fuck me some more?”
“I could, but some other chick’s calling me. Don’t like ignoring chants. If I do, the legend and my cred take a hit.”
Our lovely heroine pouted but nodded. “Who the hell could be calling and interrupting this good shit now, anyway?”
His image faded into transparency as he said, “Some light-skinned chick with glasses and curly hair that lives close by. Man, she’s always calling to smash. Anyway, do the chant again tomorrow night, and I’ll finish you off.” He disappeared, and our heroine sucked on her pinky finger, panties still around her ankles with cum running down her inner thighs. At that moment, his last statement fully resonated, and her jaw dropped and then rose into a smirk.
“That lying bitch…”
