The Moaning Ghost

I awoke with a start when I realized I wasn’t alone. The ghost was across the room from me, laying on the bed. I don’t know what surprised me most—that I had finally seen a ghost after so many months of searching, or that it appeared to be masturbating.

It was nearly 3AM on the last night our group had permission to investigate the haunting at this old hotel. There were twenty volunteers stationed around the building monitoring temperatures, checking EM fields, and attempting contact. After staying awake the previous two nights, the exhaustion was catching up with me. I was alone in a room on the third floor where a previous investigator had recorded a temperature anomaly. Exhausted, I sat in a chair and tried the usual appeals. I spoke aloud to the room, asking any entities to make themselves known. I guess after awhile I had fallen asleep.

The night vision goggles I was wearing illuminated the pitch-black room as though it were daytime but removed all trace of color. Through the grainy greenish-gray filter, I could see an apparition manifested on the bed in front of me. It had the appearance of an adult woman laying on her stomach with her face turned away from me. She was wearing a nightgown of some sort. The style was tricky to identify, but the short, immodest cut and lace trim suggested this ghost dated from more modern times. That fit with what we knew of the building.

I was surprised at how clearly I could see its body. I had always expected a ghost to fade away below the waist, but this one’s lower body was fully visible. Her (it was impossible not to think of it as a “her”) legs were slightly spread and my eyes traced up her calves to her knees, and then further. Her round ass was clearly visible beneath the gown. One arm was tucked beneath her, reaching below her stomach and moving rhythmically. As I watched, it (she) began grinding her hips into the bed.

Do ghosts masturbate? I had never heard of such a thing. It wasn’t a crazy idea, now that I thought about it. Our best theory is that ghosts are impressions left on the fabric of reality during periods of intense emotion. If trauma and shock could cause a haunting, why not love or lust? The longer I watched, the more apparent it became that the moans this ghost was making were from pleasure, not suffering.

I knew I should try to communicate, but I could not speak. I worried that if I made a sound, the ghost would just vanish. After all, it had not manifested until I fell asleep. Maybe it didn’t know I was awake? I tried to slow my breathing and resolved to keep observing this fascinating apparition as long as I could.

Soon a new challenge arose (if you’ll pardon the pun). I knew that seeing a spirit from another plane was a priceless scientific opportunity. My body, however, was responding on a more primitive level. I had expected my first contact to involve a struggle with fear. I was unprepared for a throbbing erection.

As the ghost continued masturbating, my cock strained painfully against my jeans, until I couldn’t help myself. Slowly, trying not to make a sound, I reached down to adjust myself. When this provoked no reaction from the ghost, I began slowly rubbing my palm against my erection.

She (I had difficulty thinking of her as an “it”) was really going at it now. Her legs had drifted further apart, and her back arched slightly, her gown riding up and bunched at her hips. From my position sitting near the foot of the bed, I could see directly between her thighs. I watched her fingers plunge into her pussy, pulling out only to rub tight circles around her clit. Amazing how a non-corporeal being could so convincingly emulate a physical act. It really felt like a woman was touching herself in front of me. I began to wonder what it would feel like to touch the ghost -- was it as solid as it looked? Would my hands pass right through it? My cock surged at the thought of contact.

As if in response to my growing arousal, the ghost shifted position on the bed. She got up on her knees, her ass pointing right at me, fingers still buried in her pussy. The illusion was convincing. Her knees even appeared to make an impression on the covers! Her moaning became more insistent, filling the room, and my mind.

Finally, I could not resist. As slowly and quietly as I could, I stood up. When that didn’t trigger a reaction, I stepped forward. I stood right next to the bed, with the ghost kneeling directly in front of me. I bit my lip, held my breath, and reached out with one hand to touch her ass. I was nervous about what sort of reaction this would provoke, but couldn’t stand not touching her any longer.

Her physical form felt solid and warm, not the cold touch I now realized I had been dreading. Fascinatingly, at my touch, she let out a startled cry, which sounded nervous, but also strangely eager. Clearly, the ghost was aware of my presence, but she did not look back at me or stop masturbating. It was almost as if she had been expecting this. Emboldened, I grabbed her ass with my other hand and squeezed. She made a pleased-sounding grunt, and her fingers moved more urgently.

I admit, at this point, all my attempts at scientific rigor and observation failed. I was consumed with this apparition. The sight of her body, the sounds she made, even the unmistakably feminine scent of her arousal. I ran my hands over her body, touching her hips, her back, her sides. She squirmed at my touch, moaning happily as I traced up her inner thighs, brushing my fingertips over her own wet fingers. I felt her jump slightly as I traced a circle around her asshole.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I had undone my belt, letting my pants drop around my ankles. My cock throbbed in the cool air of the room, pointing lewdly towards the ghost’s ass. Roughly, desperately, I pulled her fingers from her pussy, leaving her spread and glistening wet. She groaned wordlessly, first in protest and then in surprise as I thrust my hips forward.

My cock effortlessly slipped between her lips, and I was shocked at the heat of her pussy. She pushed back against me, making a low animal growl, trying to drive me deeper inside. I gasped at the feeling of her lips wrapped around the base of my shaft, the soft pressure of her body accepting my own.

She raised up on her elbows then and began fucking me insistently, urgently. Each time my cock pulled out I felt the chill air of the room against the wetness she left on my cock before the heat of her body returned. She punctuated each thrust with a slight swivel of her hips that changed the sensation. The velvety walls of her pussy rubbed against the sensitive head of my cock, leaving me nearly breathless.

As I felt the familiar swelling in my balls, I gripped her hips tightly. I began thrusting more forcefully, pounding against her. Each thrust brought a sharp cry of pleasure. My breathing became ragged as my entire world narrowed. I was wholly focused on the intersection of my body and hers, my cock growing even harder in her cunt.

She cried out loudly now, barking with each thrust, wordlessly matching my own arousal. Finally, I groaned, long and low, as I felt my cock begin throbbing, my cum pumping deep in the ghost’s pussy.

Awareness of the situation suddenly came flooding back, and I panicked. What had I done? How had I so quickly abandoned the scientific method? What right did I have to take advantage of this spirit, this apparition?

I fled the room, not even pausing to clean up, just tugging my pants up as I ran. Shame welled up from deep in my chest. I couldn’t bear to look behind me to see what happened to the ghost. I just ran down the stairs, tearing off my goggles. I burst into the lobby, where a few of our researchers were stationed at the camera monitors with the professor, our scientific advisor.

I wordlessly acknowledged their greetings and walked to the refreshments table. With shaking hands, I poured myself a cup of coffee I had no need for as I gathered control of my emotions.

I had only just started to calm down when the door to the room flew open again. With growing dread, I turned to see the ghost standing in the doorway. I gawked in wordless horror and shame as she looked at the people in the room. As her eyes moved toward me, I could only assume the ghost was here to exact revenge for her violation at my hands.

The icy chill of terror faded when the ghost looked past me without any sign of recognition. In the well-lit lobby, I could now see that her skin lacked the ghostly pallor my goggles had rendered her with. If anything she looked flushed. The strange nightgown was now clearly a red silk nighty, low-cut and ending at her upper thighs. Her nipples were erect and clearly visible through the lace trim.

“Professor!” she yelled when she spotted him standing by a bank of monitors. In an excited voice, she blurted out “It worked! Your plan worked! The ghost was attracted to raw sexual energy! I picked a room we had seen temperature variations in. I lay down on the bed and had barely begun to masturbate when the ghost manifested! It touched me, and then…”

At this point, she seemed to realize she had a larger audience than just the professor. She blushed and made some attempt at covering her chest, then continued in a lower voice. “Well, let’s just say it interacted with me on a physical level, in ways we’ve never observed before.”

“Holly, that’s incredible!” The professor seemed oblivious to her state of dress and the shocked stares she was eliciting from the other researchers. “Tell me you have video evidence!”

“Of course, Professor, I have the whole thing recorded on an infrared camera I set up in the room this afternoon. But Professor, it’s even better than that!” She walked forward and stood proudly before him. “I’ve got a sample of ectoplasm!”

Apparently, that is the moment when I passed out and hit my head on the floor. I don’t know what happened after that, but I woke up later in a hospital room. Eventually, one of the junior researchers came to my room to return my gear and inform me that I was no longer welcome in the ghost hunting group.