The Phantasmic Orgasm
The Professor was excited by all the psychic activity on the ghost watch, then she started to feel inexplicably horny and in need of release
In the darkness, Professor Miriam Klondike stared at the small screen of her infra-red camera, which was pointed at the great fireplace of the derelict Weybridge Manor.
“There is an amazing number of tiny light orbs dancing about in the fireplace. Can you see them on your screen, Anton?” she asked into her hands-free microphone.
Her earpiece crackled, and then Anton Goodyear, her post-doc graduate and fellow member of the ghost watch team, replied. “I see them, Prof. It’s like a little cluster of them. Could they be natural phenomena like moths or dust?”
She gave a little laugh. “Negative. I can see them with the naked eye, but on the infra-red they look spectacular. They’re not moths, and there is no breeze or draft here to raise dust. There’s been no fire in that grate for decades, and the chimney is blocked off.”
She felt excited at so much psychic activity so soon in the ghost watch.
“That’s terrific, Prof. I’m so glad you’ve given me this opportunity. I could kiss you for it.”
Miriam smiled. The tall hunk of a grad student was making a good addition to her department of parapsychology at Churchwaite University. Apart from his brains, she admired his body. The thought of him kissing her made her feel inexplicably horny.
He could kiss me all over, she thought as she pulled her cashmere blanket closer around her shoulders. She looked at the dancing light orbs in the fireplace and imagined how it would have looked in the glory days of the manor house with a roaring fire. And how good it would have been to roll on a rug in front of it with Anton under her cashmere blanket.
“How is it down in the cellar, Anton?” she asked into the microphone, trying to shove her inappropriate imagery from her mind.
“Cold as the Arctic,” came the reply. ‘The temperature has dropped ten degrees since I came down.”
Mariam’s department had been granted permission to hold a ghost watch in the dilapidated old Manor House, which had been boarded up for decades. Once it had been a grand house, until some tragedy had befallen the household in the early twentieth century, before the Great War. In researching it, Miriam had talked to several aged locals who claimed that it was haunted and subject to poltergeist activity. There was no documentary trail to follow, though. It was all hearsay, as so many haunted house stories proved to be.
The orange light orbs were moving like a swarm of fireflies, and seemed to have increased in numbers. The individual ones were moving faster and faster.
“I can hear a rhythmic drumbeat noise from somewhere now,” Miriam said suddenly. “It’s not in here, but sounds as if it’s in another part of the house.”
“Nothing down here, Prof. It’s as quiet and cold as the grave,” came Anton’s voice in her earpiece.
There was further crackling, then Doctor Brenda Maltravers, one of the lecturers in Miriam’s department, spoke in her ear. “It’s strange in the kitchen Professor Klondike. I’m recording a temperature change, too, only mine has risen twelve degrees. It’s become quite stuffy and the air feels full of dust.”
She started coughing. “I don’t know why, there is no draft here and the dust on all these old kitchen utensils hasn’t moved. I’m finding it’s affecting my breathing.”
Stupid woman! I wish she hadn’t joined the department. I bet it’s just a bit of asthma and allergy.
The tiny orbs seemed to increase even more in numbers, and instead of resembling fireflies, they looked like the embers of a fire in the grate that was being stirred up.
God I wish Anton was up here now. I’d soon warm him up.
She closed her eyes momentarily and tried to picture Anton naked in front of her, with his cock inches from her mouth. The thought immediately made her pussy feel wet.
Oh what the hell. I’m on my own in the dark.
She slid a hand down her pants and started to play with her clit. It felt good and almost liberating to drop her academic veneer for a few moments and just lech after Anton.
Her fingers parted her pussy lips, and she started to finger fuck herself.
Opening her eyes, she was startled to see the orbs so profuse they created the illusion of a roaring fire in the huge grate. She felt an urgent need to finger fuck faster and faster. And as she increased pace, so the flames seemed to rise higher.
Her earpiece crackled again, and she heard static. Through itm, Anton’s voice sounded plaintive. “I’m sorry, Prof, but it’s getting so cold down here. I can hardly feel my fingers and toes.”
What do I care! Rub them together. Stamp your feet. Just don’t bother me.
But instead, she recovered her academic voice. “That’s good, Anton. Just keep recording everything.”
The earpiece crackled again, and amid the static she could hear Brenda’s whining voice, followed by a severe paroxysm of coughing.
“It’s not bearable in this kitchen. It’s so hot and I…I’m choking. It…it smells awful, too.”
Miriam grated her teeth. She felt a peak approaching, and she was so near.
“Great…guys… just keep recording.”
The slow drumming noise was getting slightly louder and seemed to be coming from upstairs. As she watched, the swarm of orbs rose up, like a vortex or mini-tornado of flashing lights, and moved towards the door.
Anton’s voice crackled in her ear. “Are you OK, Prof? You sound — breathless.”
Of course, I’m fucking breathless, I’m about to cum you dummy.
“I’m fine,” she forced herself to say as she continued to work her pussy. “Just excited at all the psychic activity we’re experiencing and picking up.”
“My screen has gone dead, Prof.”
More crackling. “Mine too, Professor Klondike. I need to get out of here. It’s so hot and it’s not dust, it’s smoke and it smells of sulphur. Brimstone!”
“I need to get out, too, prof. I…I think I’m going to get frostbite. Hypothermia even!”
Fuck, they’re so pathetic. Irritating losers. Why did I take them on in the department?
She rose and tiptoed towards the door, one hand holding her camera and the fingers of the other vigorously working in her cunt.
She let out a laugh. “Why don’t you two get together on the lower landing? Warm yourself up on Brenda, Anton.”
Brenda’s voice sounded shocked. “Excuse me, Professor. Did you say — ? ”
“Get together and do what you need to do,” she replied tersely.
Yeah, go fuck yourselves. I don’t care what you do. Leave me alone.
She felt ire as the peak that she was so close to just wouldn’t come.
The sparkling vortex reached the door, then suddenly whirled violently and disappeared through the keyhole.
Fuck! Don’t go.
Miriam crossed the room and yanked open the door. The vortex was moving up the old staircase, glowing a dull orange.
In her earpiece, she heard Anton shouting something and then rattling a door that sounded as if it wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t…breathe,” Brenda’s voice screamed. “Please, help….me…one of you.”
Miriam ignored her and followed the vortex, still jerking herself off. As she neared it, she dropped the camera, pulled off her microphone and headset, and tossed them into the stairwell.
The sparkling tornado moved up the wide staircase.
“Wait for me,” she gasped, mounting the steps quickly towards the vortex, which transformed into a cone of light. She entered it and immediately felt as if two hands were caressing her. Looking down, she felt and saw her breasts being squeezed by invisible hands.
So aroused that panic didn't register in her mind, she continued to shove her fingers in and out of her pussy. With her free hand, she tossed off the cashmere blanket, her fleece coat and blouse. Then she kicked off her boots and divested herself of her pants and panties to stand naked on the staircase.
“Yes!” she croaked as she distinctly felt a hard cock on the back of the hand she was finger fucking herself with. She pulled her hand away and clutched at the invisible cock and drew it towards her pussy.
The screams and the rattle of door handles that wouldn’t open doors echoed around the ancient ruined house.
Just die if you want to, you morons.
The rhythmic drumbeat was loud in her ears now as the cock entered her, and she was shoved back against the banisters and fucked. Her breasts were squeezed hard, and her nipples pinched.
But still, the peak would not come closer.
Fuck. This is torture, wonderful fucking torture. Take me. Make me cum. Whatever you are.
And before she knew it she had somehow mounted the rest of the staircase as a door on the landing creaked open to reveal what had once been a master bedroom with a huge four-posted bed. Beams of moonlight shone through gaps in the boarded-up window, and she could see that the mattress was moving up and down, creating the inviting drum beat sound.
She felt herself propelled onto the ragged, rotten bedclothes, and then a heavy weight settled on top of her as if a giant of a man was lying on her. She eagerly opened her legs and gasped with joy as the invisible cock penetrated her cunt again and proceeded to fuck her harder than she imagined it was possible.
The door slammed shut, silencing the screams from somewhere below.
“Take me!” she moaned. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the image of the handsome ghost was screwing her.
All else was forgotten. Nothing mattered other than satiating the spirit inside her by being impaled for eternity on that wonderful cock.
She screamed like a banshee as the phantasmic orgasm shook her to her core.
Only then did she open her eyes and see the empty eye sockets of the skeletal face inches above her own. She opened her mouth to scream again, but no sound came out.
That was her last sentient thought.
Miriam’s secretary telephoned the police department at ten o clock the next morning when none of Professor Klondike’s team answered their phones.