Ghostly Lover

Caroline moaned. His hands were touching her hot, moist flesh. His gaze never left her face. His body rose above hers, moving, yet tense with his passion. He filled her body, his love filled her soul. She reached out for him, but felt nothing. No warmth, no heated skin. She longed to taste him, but he turned his face away, refusing her his lips. Around her the world was a vacuous, shadowy darkness. But there, in her bed, his presence overwhelmed her. She could feel the heat. The delectable swelling between her thighs as his cock impaled her with brutal, inexorable strokes. Again, and again, her desire rose and rose, until finally, it crested, and swept her away with orgasmic possession. “My love! My life!” The whisper touched her ears as she writhed in desperate delight. Between her legs, the testimony of the body’s joy flowed freely, coating her thighs and anointing the sheets. From one second to the next, as the rays of dawn touched the window, Caroline was suddenly, once again, alone. The weight upon her vanished. Cool air breathed once again across her now damp flesh. She lay twisted in the sheets and blankets as her blood throbbed. Then she awoke. Caroline opened her eyes and looked around the solitary space. Yet she could feel the presence. Feel HIM. The power of his thighs, the steely heat of his cock, and the grip of his hands. She looked down at her arms. Were those the faint marks of fingers on her flesh? Between her legs, her pussy felt used, deliciously tender. A breeze played across her face. His musky scent filled her nostrils. His whisper filled her ears. “Until tonight, my love . . .”