by Cara Vance
I again felt Shilpa’s nipples harden. After a few more seconds, her body continued to respond. I felt wetness between my legs. I was still scared, but was also quite turned on. The whole situation was really weird and getting stranger by the second.
I realized that if I stood there much longer, I was going to start touching myself, so I took a breath and stepped forward. For a moment, it felt like there was an invisible wall standing before me, but then I was through. I was expecting the worst, but the energy in the circle wasn’t any more intense...or at least it didn’t feel like it. Unfortunately, whatever it was doing to me, the damage had been done. I turned my head upward, in the direction where Harold still slept. Once more, that animalistic feeling came over me. I had a feeling that I was going to be waking him up a little earlier than planned.
First things first, though, I thought, stepping to the object in the middle. I gave my head a quick shake to momentarily clear it of salacious thoughts, then reached down and grabbed the corner of the covering. Here goes nothing.
I lifted it away and my breath caught in my throat.
Chapter 13
I don’t know what I intended to do, standing before Harold’s sleeping form. A small part of me wanted to kill the bastard. Another, to make him hurt...badly. Hell, at the very least, I expected to bitch him out and force him to explain himself. Instead, I did none of those.
I yanked the covers off of him in order to wake him up. He rolled groggily onto his back and that’s when I realized he was sporting a full-on erection in his sleep. The energy I had felt in the basement was still affecting me. My time was almost up. I would soon be back where I belonged. The feeling that still coursed through this body, combined with everything else, was too much. I needed release. If I went back before I got it, I would surely go insane.
Fuck it! The asshole would pay for his actions another day.
Angry, both with him and with myself for my wanton desires, I straddled him. I leaned down and grabbed his shoulders, digging my nails into them. With no further preamble, I impaled myself to the hilt on his cock. The shock was simultaneously painful and the most wonderful thing I had ever experienced.
His eyes opened and I began to grind into him with everything I had. He tried to raise his hands, but I grabbed his wrists and pinned him down, using all of my leverage to maintain control as I rode him.
“Oh God,” he gasped as I furiously fucked him. My only response was a growl. I didn’t know if Shilpa spoke with an accent or not. Best not to say anything. That was okay. I was beyond words by that point, anyway.
Faster and faster, I bucked my hips, not giving him a moment to catch his breath. They say angry sex is the most intense. They have no idea how right they are. My body was reacting to his cock, which was just fine with me. I had every intention to cum screaming. It was the only way I was going to keep from clawing the fucker’s eyes out.
Just then, a familiar wave of vertigo hit me. My time was nearly up. I rode it out, intent on not losing my rhythm. I glanced at the wristwatch to see how much more time I had.
Motherfucker! I had forgotten to put it back. I had set everything straight the best I could, turned off the lights, and locked up...but in my haste and confusion (not to mention magically induced lust) I had forgotten the goddamned watch.
I looked down at Harold. His eyes were closed and his breathing intensifying as I pushed him to the brink. He hadn’t noticed I was wearing it. I leaned down to him, pressed our bodies together, and shoved my tongue into his open mouth. He accepted the kiss like the greedy bastard that he was and I put everything I had into my efforts until the entire bed was shaking. With my other arm, I reached over and tore the watch off. I gave another thrust and the entire queen-sized frame lurched. I quickly dropped the timepiece behind the bed and continued my assault, creating enough noise so that the sound of it hitting the floor was muffled.
A feeling of victory filled me and that wasn’t all. I felt hot cum spray forth from Harold deep inside of me. He reached up to grab my arms, intent on making me stop, but I gave one last vicious pump. It was enough to send me over the edge...in more ways than one.
My body convulsed and waves of pleasure fanned out from my midsection. I arched my back and felt my nerves light up as sensations flooded me: our bodies together, our scents intermixed, my anger making it all the more intense. Just as the orgasm was reaching its peak, I felt myself being pulled away. The spell was reversing itself. This time was different, though. Somehow the energy of it combined with my climax, making it feel as if a lightning bolt exploded inside of me. I can’t even explain it. The best I could say was that it felt like I had died from pleasure, which maybe wasn’t too far from the truth.
The next thing I knew, I was back in the beyond and somehow I was still panting, despite no longer having lungs. I curled my soul up into a little ball as what felt like waves of electricity arched through me. I don’t know if there’s a God or not, but, if there is, being in his presence must feel a lot like that.
♦ ♦ ♦
The sensations finally passed, as I knew they would, and I gradually regained control of myself. Had any of that really happened? I thought back and realized, sadly, it had.
The sex had been...well, mind blowing was too kind of a word, but before that...
The anger welled up inside of me again. What had that crazy son of a bitch done?
When I had lifted the cover off what had indeed turned out to be my old coffee table, I at first thought I was staring at a Halloween prop. That would have made sense. After all, according to the date on his phone, it was only a few weeks hence. However, that illusion quickly dispelled as I looked closer, my eyes growing ever wider. The bones were not entirely clean or white. The hair that still clung to the head was my first clue as to what - who -I was looking at. The dress that the corpse wore had been one of my favorites.
The son of a bitch was keeping my body in the basement.
Chapter 14
Harold let out a groan and I felt his release deep inside of me. As usual, it was for the third time that night. A generous spurt of his hot seed splashed against the womb of the shapely redhead I inhabited. From the obvious boob job, the trashy tattoos, and the thigh-high stockings (the first scraps of clothing I had worn since returning), I would have bet money on her being a stripper. Sadly, I didn’t catch a name this time. Once he had thought me gone, Harold had attacked her body with an almost urgent need. He always did have a thing for redheads.
He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, still pinning me upright to the wall, before slowly withdrawing from my body. From the look on his face, he was near collapse, but it was best to be sure.
“Got any more for me?” I purred seductively.
“Insatiable aren’t you?” he asked, lying down in the bed where he had shot what must have been gallons of semen over the past months.
I found myself very much hoping he washed the sheets after every weekend, but stopped myself short from asking about it. “I can do this all night. Care to try me?”
“Give me a little while. I’m not as young as I used to be. Why don’t you come lie down next to me...give me a little incentive to get ready.”
My false demeanor aside, I was actually a little disappointed this time around. This body didn’t climax as easily as many of the others had. I had experienced barely a small hiccup of an orgasm, despite a fairly vigorous series of poundings by him. I didn’t let that show, though. I had work ahead of me. If I had to do some ego stroking to get it done, so be it.
Putting a little wiggle into my step, I walked over and slid into the bed next to him. I pressed this body’s ample breasts against his side and reached down to fondle his balls.
“Careful there,” he warned, after I purposely put a little extra squeeze to them.
“Sorry,” I said, making sure my tone implied that I wasn’t. I removed my hand and lay there next to him, waiting for him to drift off. So as to not make it obvious, though, I eng
aged in some pre-thought-out small talk.
Rather than mull over my dilemma in the afterlife, as I had done last time, I decided to plot out a series of next moves. It was time for me to be a little more proactive with regards to my own fate.
“Sure it’s okay for me to be here?” I asked, snuggling up beside him.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he replied, his voice already sounding sleepy.
“I don’t know, seems to me a stud like you would have a girlfriend or maybe a wife.”
He closed his eyes and smiled, liking the ego gratification. “Gotten caught before, have you?”
“A few times,” I lied. “Guys don’t always give their full story before bedding me. It can be...awkward,” I said, not having any real clue as to that. Hopefully I sounded convincing. The truth was, outside of a little harmless flirting, I had never cheated on Harold. But still, I had seen enough movies to form some ideas on how that might go. At the end of the day, it was all a smokescreen to get him to talk. It was now my turn to pump him...except this time it was for information.
“Don’t worry,” he replied.
“No wife?” I asked, prodding and hoping I wasn’t being too obvious about it.
“Used to have one,” he replied offhandedly. “She’s gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Yep, gone and not coming back.”
“Sorry to hear it,” I replied, waiting to hear his response.
“Don’t be. She was a bitch,” he said and then rolled over.
I opened my mouth and almost screamed out, “What?!” Fortunately, I caught myself just as the breath was escaping me. I bit down on my tongue to be safe, glad he had turned away as tears welled up in my eyes from the pain.
Sure, Harold and I had gone through some rough spots. There had been long stretches when we had fought like cats and dogs. That hadn’t been our entire relationship, though. There had been good times too...hadn’t there?
As he slumbered next to me, I let my thoughts drift back. I realized I hadn’t considered the past much since my return. Everything, save bits and pieces, had been focused on the here and now. Was that a side effect of dying or was that merely because of my growing need for physical stimuli?
Letting my mind wander, I was relieved to find that I could clearly recall the past: my childhood, growing up, my parents, my first boyfriend, the first time I had gone all the way, et cetera. It was all there. That was good to know. Encouraged, I continued to let my life figuratively flash before my eyes.
I had met Harold after college. He was a friend of a friend. At first, I hadn’t been particularly interested; however, on our second date, I had drunken a little too much wine and let him take me home. After getting my panties off, he had slid into me, giving me my first taste of his magnificent organ. That had sobered me up immediately and we had fucked like mad afterwards. I remembered that night very clearly. It had been the first time I had gotten off via a man’s penis.
My mind ran through our courtship. Again, what stood out most for me had been the sex. Our first argument had even been over it. Harold had wanted to try different things. I had been against it and our fight had escalated from there. I paused in my recollection to muse that many of the things that he’d wanted to try over the years were exactly the kind of stuff which we had been doing these past months.
Was it possible that wasn’t a coincidence?
I continued in my stroll down memory lane. More fights, some of them down and dirty...nearly all of them leading to some even dirtier make-up sessions. There were an awful lot of arguments, though. In day to day living, Harold and I had apparently been like oil and water. Why hadn’t I remembered that before? Maybe I simply hadn’t wanted to.
I decided to skip ahead, trying to probe my most recent memories of life. Harold had said that I died in a car crash. The event itself was a blank. I couldn’t even remember getting into the car. I must have, though, because I vaguely had the sense of being angry before...well, whatever happened to me. Harold and I must have had another fight. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I concentrated, the end of my life just wasn’t there. Maybe it was a defense mechanism of the afterlife. Perhaps we were spared the memories of our last moments because of the trauma. I couldn’t be sure, but that seemed like a plausible explanation.
I wasn’t getting anywhere trying to remember my end, so I concentrated instead on pinpointing my final remembrances. As I did, they began to coalesce. That anger I had felt, it had definitely been because of another argument. No surprise there. This one, though, seemed particularly bad. It wasn’t as loud as some of the others were, but there seemed to be a hurtful, almost vicious, quality to it for some reason. Why had we fought?
Argh! The memory just wouldn’t come. I finally gave up. Continuing down that path would only serve to give me...or rather, this body...a headache. A migraine wouldn’t exactly help me in my quest for answers. Speaking of which, I checked Harold. I was momentarily tempted to slap him awake for his bitch remark, but I held myself in check. That would be counterproductive, especially now that he was sound asleep.
I crept out of bed with minimal noise, grinning as I went. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine this body was probably used to making quick exits from the houses of other men. It was unfair, though. I didn’t know her or her story. The only thing I knew was that she was here, mostly naked, and apparently willing to give it up for Harold. That wasn’t exactly a full biography. For all I knew, she was actually a decent person.
Enough of that for now, though.
I wasn’t quite ready to face myself, or more precisely, my corpse, again. Besides which, if I was going to find answers as to how and why it was here in the house, I doubted it was going to sit up and tell me. I had a better idea, anyway.
♦ ♦ ♦
I sat down in Harold’s office chair, the soft leather conforming to the outlines of my buttocks. Before doing so, I made sure the drapes were shut. I saw no point in attracting undo attention from the outside. It was late, but a naked redhead sitting in front of a computer - in full view of the window - didn’t seem like the subtlest thing to me. It was funny; a few weeks ago, I couldn’t have cared less if people had been watching. Now, though, it was like I was playing secret agent.
I booted up Harold’s laptop. It was newer and a lot faster than what I remembered him owning. Time and technology march on, I guess. Speaking of which, what if technology had marched on so much that it was completely alien to me? It hadn’t been that many years, but that didn’t mean anything. If someone had died in nineteen ninety-two and been brought back a few years later, they’d have been flabbergasted by the World Wide Web. Who was to say similar advances hadn’t been made? Technology had never been my strong suit. If the world had moved on too much, I’d be lost.
A login screen came up requesting a password. My husband had always been predictable and tended to use the same one over and over again. I tried his favorite, Storm06. It was a play on our last name combined with his birth month.
Bingo! Oh Harold, when will you ever learn?
His computer finished booting up and I momentarily hovered the mouse over the email icon. Tempting, but time enough for that later. There! I located and opened his web browser - apparently, the world hadn’t moved on all that much after all. It loaded and Google came up. Fortunately, it didn’t look all that different than I remembered. Similarly, the web browser hadn’t changed all that much either. Sure, it looked newer and sleeker, and there were a few new options at the top - most of which I had no idea what they did - but the basics seemed the same. On a lark, I pressed an interesting button called private browsing, figuring it couldn’t hurt. I could use a little privacy in what I was doing.
A window popped up, explaining what it was - handy. I would be surfing the web without keeping a history of what I was doing. These things kept a history? I knew about bookmarks, but that one was new to me. Hell, yeah! The last thing I wanted was for Harold to check his computer tomorrow and disc
over I had left a trail behind. What a lucky break. Thank you, progress!
