Edward Thackeray’s Afterlife (part 2), Series
They Raised A Spirit
Edward became an eager voyeur striving to squeeze maximum pleasure out of every frantic coupling
You can read this as a ghostly stand alone or check out Part 1 below …
Halloween Trysts had a powerful effect on the ghost of Edward Thackeray.
All Hallows’ Eve was looming closer, Edward Thackeray could feel it in his desiccated bones. In recent years he’d found it easier to energise himself and apparate to a level where he could visit the old neighbourhood. He knew not whether this was because, as a ghost, his power had increased now he’d been dead for two centuries. Or perhaps the recent trend for celebrating Hallowe’en over several nights - (spanning the weekends either side of the date) - resulted in a thinning of the veil between the dead and the living.
He owed much to the snobby nature of his relatives for burying him in such a showy way, his tomb being a raised limestone sarcophagus in a sheltered area of the graveyard. It’s nearest neighbours were a shady yew tree and a shale-filled rectangle watched over by a verdigris statue of the madonna. Most other graves were headstones, in various states of tilt and mossy covering. Edward’s resting place had become a magnet for the lovers from the village who met there in privacy, to smooch and exchange intimate caresses, providing as it did, a stony single bed in a secluded corner.
In yesteryear, when lusty young men had brought their coquettish beaus to Edward’s graveside, he hungrily witnessed every furtive fumble beneath undergarments. He overheard their gasps and sighs of unbridled pleasure. In the early years of his silent residence, many boys from the mill brought their girls to his resting place to endeavour to persuade them to unbutton their blouses, or allow their petticoats to be pushed up to their waists, exposing rosy nipples, fleshy thighs or woollen stocking tops.
Often the simple act of gazing on the forbidden fruits revealed, or touching the exposed tender flesh, was enough to make lads spend in their trousers and girls hide their faces in chagrin. Edward’s spirit fed off this energy: stirrings of hunger, shame and triumph. He hoped their high emotions would help him pierce the veil on Hallowe’en, he yearned to walk among the living, along streets he’d known in the village where he’d lived.
During the war years, soldiers who came courting at his grave were bolder. Their quest to experience intimacy and love before returning to the front drove them to push their luck harder. Rough hands would snake inside skirts, skimming black market stocking tops to slide fingers under the lace of french knickers. Their goal nestled behind silky curls, so dipping eager digits into warm folds, they coaxed down honey with eager fingers. Edward savoured the heady aroma of arousal, humming like a bowstring when the girls throbbed to a climax at their lovers’ ministrations.
As the war droned on, land and factory girls felt as desperate as the soldiers, longing for male attention when most young, healthy lads were far away. Rationing meant that, instead of stockings, they’d colour bare legs with gravy-browning and use eyebrow pencil to draw a seam up the back. Girls were emboldened to find pleasure alone. With delving fingers they rubbed shamelessly at dewy flesh on lonely nights. So when a real man pressed them urgently against a lichen covered tomb to fondle a curvy breast or ample buttock, they welcomed a knee-trembler. Each party enjoyed the caresses, which led to thrusting and gasping, equally. Edward was the eager voyeur, striving as they did, to squeeze maximum pleasure out of their frantic coupling.
Something within him was revitalised by the moans and grunts of these standing fucks, his spirit was boosted with energy to be free. Every girthy cock which was grasped by a delicate female hand to be squeezed and pumped till it spat hot white seed into the ivy trailing over his tombstone, boosted Edward’s grasp on materialising.
Each beauty who unfastened her pert breasts for fondling and licking, or raised her skirts to allow a lad to lap at her labia until she spent, caused a surge of energy to Edward’s ectoplasm which might allow him access from the valley of death into our world.
Edward’s strength had grown over passing years, until he found he could participate in pleasuring the girls. At first he could ‘present’ himself as a chilling draught which gave them shivers down their spine or goosebumps on their already-pebbling nipples. He honed this skill over time, utilising energy stolen from clandestine lovers, he would press his ghostly lips to theirs.
He startled many a girl in the throes of ecstatic lust. As their sharp suited boyfriends groped and fingered them — mini-skirts pushed up and their tights pulled down — the cold pressure of Edward’s kiss was quickly followed by the chilly probe of his tongue into their mouths. Although some had yelped with surprise and fear, they didn’t refuse him. Hadn’t they come seeking a chilling fright - these lovers who made out in a graveyard at Hallowe’en?
His favourite encounter thus far was with the two girls who’d kissed so tenderly against his grave before the tall, slender one began sapphic worship between the curvy girl’s thighs. It’d caused a stirring within his long dormant core to watch the kneeling girl’s busy tongue lick and suck, while her companion sighed and moaned, transported with delight by the sensations being evoked. Edward had fondled the curvy girl’s breasts, delighted that her hardened nipples responded eagerly to his increasingly hard pinches and tugs.
His restorative pang of energy when the buxom girl reached a gasping climax was welcome, but he’d been denied feeding off the second girl’s orgasm. The lovers left with the smaller giving nervous backward glances. His presence had been detected, but Edward consoled himself with this progress, clear evidence that his manifestation was gaining strength.
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