Friday, October 17, 2014


Until the spooky, icy eve of that most chilling of all nights, Halloween, is here and gone in a half of a blink, we are going to treat you to a haunting, a romance we created just for you.
Don't forget to turn off the lights, it's the only way to get the full effect of our haunting little sweet treat.


Mari jiggled the lock until the door of the old mansion finally gave way.  It was one of those gorgeous ole style southern dwellings draped with cobwebs, dust laden chandeliers and sheet covered furnishings, which Mari surmised must be antiques.  Somehow, through, a great-great aunt she had never met and didn't even think was a blood relation had given it all, including the 20 acres of the estate, to her upon her death.  Mari intended to sell it, for there was no way she could afford the upkeep on her special needs tutoring salary, but then she discovered she also inherited enough money to keep the manor it if she wanted.  It was tempting, for she was a loner and this was on a cliff and fairly far from the closest town. 

She had the water turned on, the electric was working, and she planned to stay the week and hunt for treasures, before making a decision.  However, the moment she managed a shower after a meal of canned soup and crackers, the electricity went out.  Not willing to go lumbering about in the dark and find the circuit breakers.  Morning would come soon enough, she lit a few candles, giving the bedroom she had chosen to call her own, a warm, romantic feel.  Looking about she decided to see more of her room.  First, she lit a fire and an oil lamp that luckily still had oil in it.  Then she explored while still in her towel, and water dusted body.  The towel barely covered her lush body, curves that Marilyn Monroe would envy and legs only slightly longer than the modern day model Gisele Bundchen.   Normally, Mari was shy and hid under layers of clothes, but she was alone and for this week, this was her home, and if she liked it, she'd stay.

Using the oil lamp, she studied the dresser and chairs, the armoire, and the canopy bed.  As she admired the room, she noticed one tattered sheet draped upon what appeared to be a portrait, leaning against the wall rather than on it.  Pulling the material only half away, she gasped softly at the painting of an exceptionally handsome man.  He seemed to be dressed in clothing from what she suspected was one of the ole war eras. 

Longish dark hair stopped just above his collar, sharp, sharp golden brown eyes with a hint of mischief blazed from a very manly face.  He had chiseled cheeks, a firm jaw and a cockiness that transcended time and seemed to burst from the painting.  Despite his dated clothing, the artist managed to give the suggestion of defined muscles beneath the man's garb.  Hard shoulders, defined pics, and on very close inspection she noted the extra pout to his very kissable mouth, as if he had been caught in a moment of think about kissing a girl hard and long.

"Cheeky artist," Mari said aloud, blushing a bit at her suddenly rich and very audible tone.  She laughed at first, and then she gasped as a severe and intense arousal invaded her.  Mari usually kept such emotions tightly secure, but her initial alarm vanished and with fingers that didn't even seem like her own, she touched the brush strokes of the man’s painted lips.  She studied the man passed the point where the frame ended and envisioned what was underneath, long hard legs, an apex that throbbed with steel flesh.  She wondered if she had been part of his world, if he'd be shocked if she licked and sucked the straining beast.

She winked at the long gone hunk.  "Pity, I haven't had a little romp for ages.  Wouldn't mind one, would you?"  The words didn't sound like her and yet she felt freedom in that and laughed again as she spun about, posed saucily and winked once more.

She tilted her head and stared for long moments, remembering some of the history of the house.  It had passed through a variety of owners over the years, but oddly all had been single women.  Yet, the original owner, had been a man, a gentleman of worth and note.  Courageous, the realtor had said, fought bravely to make their land free.  There was something about him marrying a bar maid, creating a scandal.  Neither of the lovers cared.  They loved beyond loving and vowed to never leave each other, yet soon after the wedding she had gone missing.  He had died several years afterward still searching for her.  Legend had it that even in death, he still hunted.

"I'm not afraid of a little ole ghost," she had told the realtor.

"From what I heard, you shouldn't be," the realtor returned with a teasing lilt to her tone.  "I heard he is very, very friendly.  That is why every woman who ever bought the house had never left."

It was a strange conversation, and Mari would have turned it over a bit more in her mind but it had been a long day and she was ready for bed. 

She dropped the damp towel covering her lush naked body, intending to be fully unlike herself and totally naughty by slipping into bed without anything between her and those silky sheets.  

          However, before she could move, someone grabbed her from behind, spun her around and began to savagely kiss her, a bold tongue parted her mouth wide, and he viscous assaulted her mouth with brutal, ravenous forays.  She felt his strength, his body pressed hard about her.  She tasted wine on his breath and smelled an earthy captivating scent on his person.  Only, there was no person.  No one at all!

A glance at the mirror across the room showed her body being contorted, caressed.  There was even evidence of  hand impressions, lip impressions appeared, but there was no one, no one visible at all!  And her own wide open eyes showed no one holding her, kissing her, demanding things she rarely offered to anyone.    
She screamed.

Only, oddly, the scream wasn't just from fear.  It was a scream of awakening.  He  awakened her ardor and sexuality like it had never ever been exposed.  Still, fear spiraled quickly into terror as large hands squeezed one breast, massaging it as pliable lips and a delving tongues dueled with her own resistant one. She pushed and shoved at a massive well-muscled chest.  A sinewy mountain that felt like a man who would not budge.  She could feel it, but couldn't see it. 

Then it happened, suddenly, quickly, like a match being lit, a snap, a crackle, a flame tossed into a bonfire, a bonfire of lust.  His touch and kiss imitated conflagration, evoked sizzling sparks that spread through her body quickly, insistently, making her want and need and desire. 

"Stop!" she shouted.  "Let me go!"  Though her words were in opposition to what her body wanted, the surreal moment was more than creepy.  It was insane.  Especially since she really, really didn't want to stop this inferno of insatiable desire.

"Ah, but I came upon your invitation, m'dear lady.  You said you haven't had a romp lately."  He bit her bottom lip.

She cussed like a sailor on shore leave.

"Ah such language, m'love."

"You bit me."

"And I will again, and again, all over.  You love it."

"No...No...don't."  But she lied, she did love the nip, she loved the taste of the salty bit of blood. She wanted to matter-of-factly ask him to bite her tit, actually say the word tit, to leave bite marks all over her body."

"Aye, m'sweet one, you asked for a little romp.  Is that not a invitation to come."  She heard a smile in his voice.  "So I came, m'dove, and I now I intend to come in your sweet, hot body."

She should have said no, go away, never come back, it was a joke.  She should have said anything, anything at all.  Instead, she groaned like a wanton slut who had been locked in the tower for a little too long.

He chuckled.  "I see the lady is well done with protesting too much."

The husky deep voice was as much of an aphrodisiac as was his insistent manipulations.  His hands were all over her body, kneading, cupping, invading.  One moment it was her breasts, the next his brawny fingers were in her hair, and then he yanked her head back as he layered kisses upon her neck, sucking type of kisses that she knew would leave a mark, and shame on her, she wanted him to mark her.  She wanted his brand.  He claimed her mouth once more, then deserted that to suck and bite her tits.  The sensation left her floating in a seas of sexual stimulations of desire, wave upon pre-orgasmic shudders attacked her core and coursed through her body.

She felt all of it on a level that surpassed anything she had ever felt before.  It was as if her body was over sensitized, and each feathery touch multiplied every sensations.  And she wanted all of it, found her legs parting as his rough hand landed under her thigh, forcing it upward.   She unwittingly wrapped it around his waist as she pressed herself against him.  A nude specter, the thought whispered by, but that wasn't as startling as the realization that she couldn't stop herself.  It all felt so real, but there was no body, no form, nothing to visualize.  She was being ravished and she was alone with a voice in her head and a mirror that insisted something was ravishing her.  Although, this sort of attack she liked. 

Damn, she realized, there had been a little whore lurking in the darkest depths of her heart and it was taking a supernatural episode or a lapse into insanity to bring it out.

Maybe, she should have taken that moment to consider her judgment, her morality, the depth of her insanity, but the true psychosis would have been to deny herself the absolute bliss of this invasion.  Still, she screamed another, "Please don't.  You mustn't."  Felt she was obliged to do so, after all, he, it, whatever, wasn't real.

He chuckled against her neck.  "m'lady, you want this, tell me you want this.  Tell me to take you, wench.  Tell me how much you need me."

"No...go away," she managed weakly even as she found her hands in silky hair, pulling his lips back to hers.

This time he laughed aloud, and was the one who surrendered to her longings.  He plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, thrashing around, eliciting unbelievable heat, she moaned and panted. 

"What are you?  Who are you?" she spat out between spearing tongue lashes and body groping.  It wasn't only his hands that roamed and taunted, she raked her nails over his back, squeezed his buttock, and pumped against his hip, trying to tease him inside her. 

"You're mine.  You'll always be mine."  He informed her as if he had just snared the Hope Diamond.


His fingers found her core and he speared her with three digits, plunging hard as he if he expected resistance and wanted to get that part over with.  There wasn't any resistance.  If anything, she wanted more, she wanted his whole damn fist, and she began to hump his fingers. 

"I don't understand."  The words came out almost like hiccups, for she couldn't stop pumping his hand.

He increased the tension, plunged a fourth digit inside her then a fifth.  "You'll always come back 'ere, just as I do."

"I don't get it."

"Ah, but I am giving it to you, and giving it to you good, I might add."

"No...this... this thing about knowing me and me knowing you."

His pace slowed.

"Explain," she blurted, "but don't stop....faster...harder..."

"We are of this world and the next and we will never truly part."

She didn't quite understand those last words, for her eyes began to roll back in her head, her pulse raced so rapidly she could barely breath, and she kept up with his pace, actually begged, "More.  I want more.  Fist me!  Give it to me!" 

"I always do, m'Mari."

Her name coming out of the empty air like that nearly felt like a icy cold drenching water .  Nearly, mind you.  The momentary sane thought should have provoked terror.  It did, but it only lasted a second, maybe two.  The burning agony of needing to climax, needing him in her when she climaxed, needing an orgasm so bad she would have signed over her every possession including her heart, burned terror away like a bonfire consuming a leaf. 

"You're a ghost...aren't you," came out again in those tattered little huffs of air.

"A specter to be true, but you feel me, do you not?  You want me, do you not?  And the more you have me, the more real I will become."

His words were muddled.  She barely heard him.  What were words when touch said so much more.  She couldn't listen.  Even his fist wasn't enough, it barely touched her swollen nub, just little teases that drove her insane.  She wanted his shaft, and wanted it now, probably would want it later, would want in every opening she possessed, and not just once but again and again. 

She wanted to be his sex doll.  His toy.  She never wanted to stop.  "Ah hell, I don't care if you're the headless horseman, do me.  Do me now!  Now!"  Who was this woman who spewed words like that about as if it were part of her everyday vocabulary?  Who was this person whose need exceeded her will in every way?  She didn't care.  She cared only about this moment, this specter, this feeling.  "Do it now!" she demanded again.

And he did.  He lifted her other leg around his unseen waist and plunged his invisible rod deep inside her.  She was wet enough to take it, take every bit of it, and that somehow surprised her, that something so unreal could feel so huge and so very good.

Mari wasn't a one night stand sort of person.  She was very fastidious when choosing a lover, and wasn't quick about jumping into bed.  She believed in relationships and with the amount of diseases floating about, she practically screened her to-be-partner back to his first kiss.  She also was very lady like, very soft spoken, not at all like the vampish wench tossing out intimate demands as if she were the madam whore of a nasty drinking hole at some down under pub.  Somehow, though, it felt right. 

Legs wrapped around his waist, He was pumping like a freaking jackhammer, his fingers buried on her bottom cheeks squeezing hard, his lips sucking the breath from hers, and her as open and free as a slut, seemed fully right and perfect.  For the first time in all too long, without the use of her super-hyped vibrator, she found herself reaching for an orgasm.  She tossed her head back from his lips.  She screamed a string of curses with a few, "Harder.  Deeper.  More," thrown into the mix.

Suddenly her back was against a wall, and her one leg was tossed over his shoulder, spreading her even wider.  She hadn't realized he wasn't entirely inside her, she realized it now.  He drove so deep, it hurt.  He spread her so wide, it hurt.  He pounded so hard, it hurt.   His cock rubbed her clit so raw, it hurt.  And she loved it.  She couldn't spread herself wide enough for him, open herself enough, give of herself enough. 

Faster and faster he drove into her until she was totally incoherent, until her world died and her clit became a swollen hard nub that reached and reached and finally contracted against his surges.  It was one long, endless contraction, followed by another and another.  It lasted forever, and when it was over it wasn't really over, for tiny smaller contractions ravished her body.  She pulsated against the wall as if her entire being was one giant orgasm. 

Finally, she felt herself being lifted onto the bed.  Felt the mattress indent next to her and his non-existent hand moving over her heaving chest and slightly rounded belly. 

"I found you, m'Mari.  I will always find you as you always find me.  You'll grow old here and die, and then you will come back again."

It finally made sense, a veil was lifted.  At that moment, she felt herself being flipped over.  He forced her buttock in the air, pressed her cheeks apart.  She screamed when he penetrated her in one quick motion, but then she began to match his frantic pumping motion.  She was ready again.  She wanted again.  She needed again.  Because she understood.  It had been a long time since they had been together this time.  The elderly woman before her had died 27 years before.  Now, Mari had reincarnated into this new body as she had been reincarnating since she had been first taken from her love and died almost within the year.    

There against the wall, the other side of the sheet fell away from the rest of the picture, and she recognized herself, not as she looked now, but as she looked then, gypsy midnight black dark hair, nearly translucent blue eyes, the buxom bar wench that married a gentleman of the upper crust, and then was kidnapped by his family and sent far away to a brothel. 

She had learned a lot in that brothel and in each new life, she offered all she learned to her husband, her very own spooky sexy specter. 

The End
Hope this was a HAPPY HALLOWEEN TREAT!  And guess what, no calories!


We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane - -


Big Mike said...

Thanks A&Z for the free story.

Michael Davis (
Author of the Year (2008 and 2009)
Award of Excellence (2012)