“Fuck, I should have known better,” Ella muttered under her breath, reaching for the bag of breakfast cereals, “than to—Argh!—let a ghost have his way with me.” She slammed the door of the cupboard with determined frustration. “And a desperate incapable virgin at that!”

“Hey, I heard that!” came a disembodied voice from inside the refrigerator she was opening to find the disembodied head of her latest sexual escapade, looking at her with the puppy-eyed face of a rejected teenager—close to tears.

Ella rolled her eyes at the old trick she had gotten all too used to. Putting up her best impression of the typical B-movie trailer narrator, “Oh, how original: the old severed-head-in-the-fridge now with the extra features crybaby face and whining. Ugh!”

Milk in hand, she closed the fridge, making sure to make a point by shutting the door into his face that seemed indecisive whether it should be pouting or just theatrically trembling with the bottom lip. His nose comically protruded through the fridge door once the suction of the rubber had sealed it shut.

She turned around and... “Fuuuck!” She leapt up in her jumpscare over the sight of the translucent headless body standing right behind her, the wound on its neck where once his head had rested gushing with a blueish, equally transparent æthereal liquid splashing right through her before fainting into the void. The bottle of milk landed on the floor, spilling the valuable liquid over the somewhat anachronic Bauhaus tiles.

“Damn you, asshole,” she cursed.

“'Not original',” the muffled voice still came from the fridge, the protruding point of the nose moving along with his words while the fingers of the headless body drew quotation marks in the air. To the distinct theremin timbre came the characteristic note of a miffed male.

Having regained the least bit of her composure, Ella nonchalantly replied, “You know it would be scarier if, at least, you got the color of the blood right,” an unmistakably spiteful undertone. “And you know full well jumpscares don't count. If a comedian tickles his audience, he's not funny either although, technically, they were laughing.”

The beheaded body still spraying ectoplasm everywhere clumsily reached through the fridge door to collect its head, missing it on the first few attempts.

Ella rolled her eyes at the pathetic display of gaucheness.

“To think when I signed the contract that said, 'Caution: haunted' in the small print and I seriously fell for the foolish idea that I'd be beleaguered by the well-sung nineteenth-century poet named Sir Arthur Cunningham or whatever who hung himself over getting rejected by the farmer's maid and whose mythical legend was passed on through the generations dwelling in this humble abode, but, no, it had to be a goofy idiot whose sole remotely legendary trait is the way he died: tripped, fell with his neck on the window frame and severed his head when the window slid down. Ugh! And that name! Your parents could have at least had the decency to call you Bradley but, no, just Brad it is. That's not even a real name.”

A large part of her annoyance was directed at the fact that the socks she was wearing gave formidable sponges for the spilled milk.

The ghost named Brad made a pitiful impression, not only as a reaction to Ella's crude insults to things he had little influence on but also because he had mounted his head on the wrong way, now missing to make a point with his crossed arms and pouty face looking in different directions.

“Aw, stop looking at me like that,” Ella frowned. “You know I can't stay mad at you if you give me that look.”

Victoriously, Brad fixed his head and adjusted its orientation. “Now will you admit that you had some fun yesterday?” he pressed on, his ghostly voice not quite on spot—with his merely half-decade of haunting the frequently changing tenants, he was a rookie in the business, after all, compared to the legendary ghosts that could be heard in the halls of the Scottish castles. “I mean you came... That's gotta count for something, right?”

Ella pinched the root of her nose and squinted her eyes as if she was bracing herself for a major migraine attack. “You're such a virgin!” she crabbed and waited for his reply just to cut him off before he could even finish his protesting 'Hey!' “Yes, I came... a little but only because you basically cramped me to that orgasm while using my body as a vessel. I only came because you primarily got yourself off and we shared the experience. Frankly, it was too much, too quick, typical virgin dude. A girl needs a slope in the approach. More build-up, take your time, aim for the highest possible climax, not just some frantic and uncoordinated rubbing and thrusting. Zero patience. Seriously, you were no good!”

Ella rolled her eyes at Brad's renewed demonstration of his prominent bottom lip.

“You did die a virgin, didn't you?”

Brad shrugged, gaze to the floor, his blueish translucent body blushing through a palette of purplish shades, almost vanishing to the unaided eye. He would have preferred blue-shifting his color into the ultraviolet spectrum, thus literally vanishing but this neat trick was reserved for poltergeists who had suffered a far crueler fate and were cursed to reduce stereotypical blond bimbos into minced meat in cheesy movies. At least their pay was decent. Also, it required a substantial amount of wrath which Brad simply did not possess. Poor Brad was condemned to roam the tight confinement of the apartment where he had met his demise until fulfillment of his most eager wish.

At his silent confession, Ella felt pity for the young, bumbling ghost. “Poor you,” she mouthed, reaching out to cup his cheek, briefly forgetting he was not a material apparition.

To her surprise, however, she felt a warm solid, yet soft resistance with just a hint of stubble against her hand and the familiar feeling of another hand touching hers.

She inhaled, partly in shock, partly in excited surprise. Her heart fluttering with butterflies, she looked at his half-materialized face, observing the continuous gradient from transparent blueish to impenetrably skin-colored, one eye monotonously ghost-colored, the other deep turquoise like she had never seen.

Lost in the view, she ever so slowly placed her other hand on his immaterial cheek too, now making his face look more symmetrical with the flesh returning to existence on his right side as well, forming two conjoined circles of healthy-looking skin.

Hesitantly, she moved closer, her eyes unsteadily trying to make out where the fringe of the circles turned to the æthereal specter-blue. His lips were still bereft of material existence when she tentatively planted hers on them, feeling how his soft pout snapped into existence at her contact. He kissed her back gently.

Parting again, she observed, with great fascination, a thin thread of the immaterial ectoplasm clinging between them, getting thinner as she slightly moved away and finally snapping back to his lips, creating a ripple of waves over his face like a drop of water falling into a glass.

Brad looked back at her, his face turning translucent again as she removed her hands. Longing for her touch, he reached out to take her face into his hands too but passed right through her, sending his deathly chill through her body.

He tried again with the same result, and again, and again, and again, growing more desperate with each try.

“How did you do that?” he asked on the brink of his tears from getting denied the touch he had yearned for for years.

“I just really wanted to touch you,” she explained. “I felt bad for you and wanted to cheer you up.”

“Compassion...” Brad mumbled. He exclaimed, “That's what I've trying to feel my entire life: love!”

Moved by his longing, Ella whispered, “Touch me again, Brad.”

He tried again but this time, she caught his hands in mid-air, immediately materializing them and put them on her cheek.

“All you ever wanted was to be loved,” she mouthed, a sad smile on her face, and removed her hands from his.

He held her face with his hands that remained in this mundane plane of existence. She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his spectral body, thereby turning every part she touched into existence.

“Love me, Brad. Take me,” came an almost inaudible murmur.

“What?” asked Brad, not sure if he had heard right.

“Sleep with me,” she repeated, Bambi eyes glistening at his, “before I have second thoughts. Let's lift this curse.” She took his face in her hands and pulled him in a kiss that emphasized her request beyond any doubt.

Taken by surprise, Brad indecisively placed his hands on her boobs. To both his surprise and delight, his hands materialized at the touch of her loose t-shirt. Having expected this as his first move, Ella inched her body closer to his and allowed her lips to part and let her tongue seek his, finding it, against her expectation, enjoyably warm like the rest of his transcending body.

Although a bit coarse and awkward, his touch had her softly humming into his mouth, signaling she wanted more. She gave an amused giggle as she noticed she could feel his skin directly on her nipples although they were still covered—a nifty little ghost trick, she thought. Encouraged by her reaction, he allowed himself to softly pinch them, causing her to wince, break the kiss and emanate an audible, albeit low moan.

Cheeks flushed, she opened her eyes, biting her bottom lip to find his face searching hers for approval and finding it in her laggardly unbuttoning his shirt. The bloodstains stemming from his unfortunate parting that had, due to having the same hue as the rest of his spectral appearance, so far not caught her attention and were now, upon her gentle touch, turning rusty brown, didn’t seem to bother her.

She leaned against his bony chest, pressing her ear to it as if trying to hear the absence of his heartbeat. She sighed disappointedly, as she had hoped, against all reason—as far as reason could be applied to this situation—to find a sign of life in him.

Seeing her anguish, Brad inhaled deeply and pulled her closer to his chest. She felt him tense up in a major effort. Then, she heard it. It was faint but it was definitely there: a feeble rhythmic thump.

She smiled at him, radiant with joy. She pulled his face into a kiss anew, with more ardor this time, tongues wrestling, an overabundance of saliva trickling down her chin while on his face, it turned from a glistening colorless fluid to diaphanous blue and the drop falling from his chin evaporated into the nothingness of his metaphysical dimension.

When she broke the kiss, she wore a coy smile with a distinct note of shame in it.

“I… I have an… idea,” she began, almost bursting in an abashed girlish giggle and trying to hide her playful expression between her shoulders, searching for courage to utter her kinky confession. “Your head… You can, uh, re… remove it, yes?”

“Uh… yeah, sure, here,” replied Brad, placing his hands on hers that were still holding his cheeks.

He gave his head a firm twist that separated the head from the shoulders where long ago the heavy window had forcefully made its way through his flesh, thereby prematurely ending Brad's life.

She held it in her hands, marveling at the sight of what seemed to be a live head she was inspecting. Her eyes open wide and refusing to blink, she swallowed while a crimson color rising up her cheeks, giving away what kind of sordid fantasy went through her mind.

Taking his head under her left arm, she grabbed the hand of Brad's beheaded body and, with a determined pace, walked to her bedroom. Standing at her bedside, she turned towards Brad's body and held his head inches above the neck that splashed his ectoplasm everywhere before it underwent the same fate as his saliva earlier.

Gathering all her courage, she asked, “Please slip into my body again and hold your head between my legs with one hand so you can eat me while you frig me with my other hand,” earning her an inquisitive glance. She added, “Trust me.”

Brad tried to nod eagerly which looked rather amusing with the stump of his neck moving on his body while the head remained in its hovering position Ella held it in. With every forward motion of the stump, a splash of ectoplasmic blood flew through Ella's face before disappearing from this plane of existence.

“Oh! Shit! Sorry, I forgot!” Brad's severed head hastily apologized, making Ella laugh over his clumsiness she was growing increasingly fond of.

She put Brad's head on the bed facing her way so he would have an unobstructed view of her. Ashamed, he gave his best three-second shot at looking away, cheeks turning to æthereal purple as she began to put on a brief show for him, seductively swaying her hips as she, lifting the hem of her t-shirt several sizes too wide she was using as a pajama, slowly revealed first the thin panties that had a distinct damp spot, then the curve of her midriff. As a traditionally bra-less sleeper, she turned around, letting her tight booty bounce as the bare back gave away the lack of confinement for her pert breasts to his eyes now as well.

As she seductively threw her hair over her shoulder, the tip of her index pulling at her bottom lip, glancing back at him watching the scene with awe, she felt two hands groping her boobs: she had forgotten about Brad's body still standing there. She still hadn't gotten used to thinking of his head and body as two separate entities sharing the same impatient and teenage-grade hormonal mindset.

Tsk-ing, She slapped his hands away and turned around to reveal her body to Brad.

Had he not been immobile on her bed, his jaw would have dropped far more than the barely open-mouthed expression he had now—his chin was already hitting the mattress and he renounced trying to dig it further into the only partly pliable material out of fear it might make his head tip over—an occasion to make a fool of himself yet another time he certainly wanted to miss.

She turned around, bending over and playing with her boobs right in front of his face while fully expecting his body to at least grope her ass if not closing the gap between them and pressing its erection between her ass cheeks. As the body didn't react out of its most recent experience, she started wiggling her butt invitingly, briefly forgetting that the body could not see what she was doing.

She moved Brad's head to the very edge of the bed, turned around again and bent over to remove her panties, thereby lowering her crotch right into his face, careful not to make his head fall over, or worse, fall face-first to the ground. But... would he even hit on the floor or would he pass right through it? Then again, if he could walk through walls, how did he not just fall through the ground all the way to the center of the earth and end up eternally oscillating around it anyway? Ghosts sure followed some weird physics she decided not to wrack her brains about for the moment.

Feeling a shiver up her spine from the touch of Brad's nose against her slit, she jolted off. She took his head again and squished his face between her boobs.

When she freed him, he was grinning over both ears.

She climbed onto the bed, lay down on her back, gave Brad one more deep, fervent kiss and then looked him in the eye.

“You may let your body slide into mine and take possession of it like you did yesterday but remember: I feel everything too so you better make me feel really good or this will be it and I'll move out first thing tomorrow morning and you'll have to find someone else to lift your curse, yes? Take it slow. Explore with my fingers and your tongue. See which touch or lick gives which result. Aim for the highest pleasure, not just an orgasm—make us scream. In other words: stop being a guy.”

Before she let him apprehend her body, she placed his head between her legs, so he could feast on her pussy with his eyes.

Taking possession of a body but making it still feel everything was easy for a ghost of Brad's grade. In fact, it was the only trick mildly frustrated spirits were good at. As he vanished into her, she felt his spirit envelop her body, her entrails—she was now aware of a chilly, yet tender layer enveloping every single organ in her body being shared between two souls, both of them feeling every sensation, yet only one able to move as the other generously let it take the reins.

Since his head was removed from his body and they both shared hers as adjacent spirits, every time she blinked, she was able to see a flash of her pussy through his eyes too from an angle she had never observed it. It helped her understand why men were, generally, very interested in looking at it.

Ella felt how her hands moved over her belly exposed to the cool air in the room. She had allowed Brad neither full view of her feminine features nor full access to them except that one hand she had let him ineptly slide into her panties the previous night. Although it was her own hands she felt roaming over her stomach and she was aware of all the movements, it felt refreshingly different. She placed a mental note on how the substantial amount of money she had invested in hand cream was paying off big time, making her own, slightly estranged touch so tender.

She gasped at the soft feel of her breast in her hand and squirmed from the almost ticklish feeling of the ghosted fingers tracing the V of her pelvis, turning her sighs into playful giggles.

She could feel the moisture forming between her legs and knew Brad did too as she felt two of her fingers circling her nipple. Although she knew every of Brad’s movements in advance, the anticipation of the pinching was unbearable for her, for she felt his spirit fighting the near-irresistible temptation to just succumb to the urge and perform as miserably as the day before.

Partaking in Brad’s struggle, she moaned a low ‘yes,’ allowing him to pull the erect nub he had so far avoided. The sensation made both of the spirits in her body arch her back in pleasure.

“See how amazing it feels to take your time?” she said. “And we didn’t even come close to orgasm.”

The lust-induced rush in her chest got emphasized by Brad’s presence. She could feel his recognition of the fact that sex—even the sole act of masturbation—was far more than just getting your genitals wet and getting off.

In her little triumph in educating the maladroit ghost, she had gotten oblivious to her other hand that was now between her legs, seeking the source of the moisture. In thought, she encouraged him to scoop the liquid, spread it over her pussy, let her prominent and soft labia minora glide between her fingers, exploring the softness of her folds, turning her into a slippery mess.

In shock, she opened her eyes as she felt how her hand, fingers coated in her abundantly flowing vaginal secretions, moved to her face. She knew the destination and resented it greatly. Tasting her own juices? She couldn’t think of many more revolting things and, almost panicking, tried to will him to…

“Mmmh,” came her hum as she felt the slippery fluid on her tongue and lips, detected its taste and, to her greatest surprise, didn’t find it the least bit appalling—quite the opposite so: sucking on her own juices seemed to create renewed waves of heat deep in her belly.

While making her enjoy her own nectar, Brad moved her free hand to her pussy, this time allowing her index to dive into her entrance, making her moan on the digits he made her hold between her lips.

Letting his impatient side take over, the second hand joined the first on her vulva and searched for her clit between her fleshy, now even more swollen petals, yet only brushing it by accident a few times. Her moans soon changed to disapproving ‘Nnn’s, making her desperate for her own proper touch guided by his will.

Mentally, she bade him to backpedal, use his eyes that were just inches from the action to seek out her most sensitive spot that craved attention. “Spread my lips,” she barely managed. “I see what your eyes see.”

He understood and did as ordered, used both her hands to expose her pink parts completely to his look. Slowly, he scanned her with his observant gaze, waiting for her signal.

“Right here,” she made him halt and tentatively lay a finger on this tiny nub that was seemingly greeting him, trying to catch his focus.

The reaction was electrifying. A tiny bolt of thunder, bearing the promise of a much greater release ran from her core to the back of her head, making her moan from just this barely existent touch. A second, more daring touch, giving an identical reaction. The third was an actual flick, making her legs jerk. Gaining more courage, he made her hand roll her clit between her fingers, stimulating it from different angles, evoking moans, cramps, twitches and a feeling like an impending tsunami that started to rise at the horizon of the sea.

“Take your head and fucking eat me,” she commanded with a singing voice.

He did not waste a moment to fulfill her wish and made her hands pull his own face into her crotch, nose digging into the soft labia that welcomed the touch and enveloped his darting snout, tongue covering the hole from which the testimony of her lust didn’t cease to flow.

He first only licked her entrance, sticking his tongue into it, trying to lap as much of her liquefied desire as possible to spread it over her pussy, mentally picturing he was turning it into a salad with too much dressing—a picture she found profoundly amusing. Men, she laughed in her thoughts. At the same time, he moved his head so his nose kept brushing her clit all the while he was grateful that, being dead, his well-being was perfectly independent of his oxygen intake.

“Don’t just lick me,” yammered Ella. “Eat me! Suck me! Fucking bite my clit!”

Obedient to her command, Brad used the little strength she had left in her arms to press his face against her crotch as hard as her body allowed and sucked her flesh between his lips while licking her with heightened eagerness and fervor. He moved his lips to her clit, sucked it in let his tongue play with it, increased the pressure on it.

She did not only sense her own pleasure but felt, anticipated, even caused every movement of Brad’s tongue. Just as her body was his, his body was hers and ultimately, she was, although a bit more passive, one of the parts responsible for her bliss.

“Bite me and make me cum!” she ordered, not even able to fully finish the last word as she felt Brad’s will to follow the order. This already nearly sent her over the edge.

As Brad finally sank his teeth into her softness, she screamed out in pleasure. Her body yanked up in jolts, flooding Brad’s face with her orgasm. At the same time, she felt something hard she had so far paid little attention to between her legs since it was not physically present save for a blueish limpid, veiny pole of spirit-meat. She felt how deep inside her lower abdomen, an immense pressure got released spastically.

Just at the same time as Ella, Brad came too, shooting out ropes of thick blue goo that passed on to the next world before they even came flying back onto her body.

Panting from not only her orgasm but from being one of the rare women to have experienced the true feeling of a male orgasm too, she curled up in fœtal position.

She was exhausted and could feel Brad’s spirit in the same state. Feeling her body had gone through too much to harbor two exhausted souls, she mentally bade Brad leave her body.

As he did, she immediately felt an appeasing lightness replace the space he had used in her body.

Already half-asleep, she heard Brad’s triumphant celebration. “At last! At last, I’ve made love to a girl! Finally, I’m free! Finally, the curse is lifted and I can go rest in peace!”

Not really understanding—both from her confusion and from being nearly asleep—what he was rambling about, she reminded herself that ghosts needed not to sleep.

“Yeah, so you gave me oral, big deal,” she barely managed before it occurred to her how insensitive she was sounding to a ghost who had never had the chance to sleep with a girl. “Okay, it was my best orgasm ever, I’ll give you that.”

She was fighting the heavy sleep that was creeping up on her.

“But technically, you didn’t fuck me. You gave me head—fantastic head at that, worthy of a legend—but you didn’t penetrate me. Does that still count?”

“Can’t oral count as making love?” he retorted, taken aback.

Ella tried her best shrug, given her state. “I guess so. Best sex I ever had,” she slurred.

“Well then,” Brad, visibly relieved said. “I’m gonna get ready to move on to the next world and leave this place for good. Thank you for bearing with me, Ella.”

She was only listening with one ear but at the mention of her name, she was wide awake. Had he just said he was leaving for good? Just like that? Hit-and-run?

She almost jumped up.

“Do you have to leave? Can’t you stay a bit longer?” she wondered, a distinct plea in her voice, which earned her a questioning glance.

“Don’t go,” she begged, reaching out for his hand she barely managed to take as he was already on the verge of disappearing. “I kinda like you, you know.”

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she added, “I need you. Please stay.”

He smiled and chuckled nervously. “I guess I can stay a little longer now that I know how to make love to you.”

She squealed and jumped him, lavishing his face with kisses, throwing him over.

While falling, his entire body materialized and she landed softly. Even when she sat up, only touching his loins with her crotch, his body remained solid. Laughing incredulous about his change of appearance, she slowly eyed him up, taking her time to inspect every square inch of her lover.

“You are gorgeous,” she whispered.

“So are you,” he replied, smiling and wiping a strand of hair off her face.

A delighted gasp came from her mouth as she felt a telltale pole growing beneath and pressing against her crotch.

She bit her lip and announced, “Now let me teach you how to fuck me.”