by Lucy Wild
“A small matter,” said the ghost, “to make these silly folks so happy.”
“Small!” echoed Carol.
The spirit signed for her to listen to her younger self, pouring out her heart in praise of Lezziwig before speaking again. “She has spent but a few pounds. Is that enough to earn so much praise?”
“It isn’t that,” said Carol. “She had the power to render us sexually satisfied or frustrated. Her power lies in words and looks and things that cost little but add up to a fortune.”
She felt the spirit’s glance and stopped.
“What is the matter?” asked the ghost.
“Nothing.”
“Something I think.”
“I should like to be able to let my clerk finger me a little. That’s all.”
Her former self turned down the lamps and Carol and the ghost were again stood in the open air. “My time grows short,” observed the spirit. “We must be quick.”
Carol saw herself now as an older woman in the prime of life. Her face had not the harsh lines of later life but there was an eager greedy motion in the eye. She was not alone but sat by a young girl in mourning dress, tears sparkling in her eyes.
“It matters little,” she said. “Another idol has replaced my pussy and if it will make you come as I have tried to do in the future I have no cause to grieve.”
“What idol has displaced you?”
“A golden one.”
“Not the gold dildo I purchased for both of us to use?”
“Another gold one.”
“You mean money? There is nothing condemned with such severity as the pursuit of wealth unless you count anal before marriage.”
“You fear sex so much,” she answered. “All your desires have shifted towards the pursuit of wealth instead of passion. Gain alone engrosses you.”
“What of it? I am wiser for it. It does not change the fact that I would like your face in my pussy on a regular basis.”
“Our contract was made when we were poor and content to be so. You are changed. When we agreed to start fucking you were another woman.”
“I was young and up for experimenting with bondage and even watersports.”
“You were not what you are. I am. That which promised happiness, the tongue around an asshole in the middle of the night, is fraught with misery now we are two not one. I release you.”
“Have I sought release?”
“Not the kind I wish to give you, the release of a climax.”
“What kind then?”
“In an altered spirit. Tell me if you saw me naked with my cheeks spread apart right now next to a purse of gold, which would you choose?”
“I am unsure.”
“You are not. For the love of who you once were I will let you go. Your memory of what we had when you used to fist me with gay abandon may make you sad. This will pass. May you be happy in your chosen spinsterhood.”
She left Carol and they parted.
“Spirit show me now more,” said Carol. “Take me home. Why do you torture me?”
“One shadow more.”
“No more. I don’t wish to see it. Show me no more.”
But the relentless ghost forced him to look in at another place. It was a room full of comfort thought not large. Near to the fire sat a beautiful girl with many children around, the same vision as the last but older now. There was a knocking at the door and a man entered laden with gifts and toys.
Carol looked on as the master of the house sat with the mother of the brood and said, “Bellend, I saw a friend of yours today.”
“Who was it?”
“Guess!”
“I don’t know. Carol Christmas?”
“It was! I passed her whorehouse and could see her in there. Her partner lies dying and desirous of one last orgasm and there she sat alone with her pussy dry as old parchment.”
“Spirit,” said Carol in a broken voice. “Remove me from this place.”
“I told you these were shadows of erotic encounters past. Do not blame me for what is gone by.”
“I cannot bear it.” She looked at the ghost and saw fragments of many orgasm faces within. “Leave me, take me back. Haunt me no longer.”
The light coming from the ghost’s cock seemed to go dimmer and dimmer until only blackness remained and Carol felt herself in her bed, her eyes drooping as she sank into a heavy sleep.
Chapter 3
Awaking in the middle of an obscene dream and sitting up in bed to calm herself down, Carol heard the bell strike one. She felt restored to consciousness in the nick of time to hold conference with the second messenger.
But the bell struck and no shape appeared. For fifteen minutes nothing came although Carol almost did more than once as she squeezed her legs together repeatedly. All this time a light shone upon the bed from the adjoining room and at last Carol realised this spark might be the location of the spirit, perhaps she was not the brightest spark. She got up and shuffled over to the door, trying her best to ignore her growing desire.
The moment Carol’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called her by name and bade her enter. She obeyed.
It was her room but it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were hung with sex toys, ropes and chains, all bright green and gleaming with life. The fire roared and heaped on the floor were blankets, lingerie and bowls of phallic shaped foodstuffs. In easy state upon the couch sat a jolly giant who bore a glowing erection, in shape not unlike Plenty’s horn, held up high to shed light on Carol as she peeped round the door.
“Come in,” said the ghost, “come in so I can come in you.”
Carol entered timidly and hung her head in shyness though the spirit’s eyes were clear and filled with lust as were her own.
“I am the ghost of erotic possibilities present,” said the spirit. “Sit upon my face.”
Carol reverently did so. The spirit lay on his back on the couch whilst Carol’s nightshirt rose to expose her soaking wet pussy. She rode the mouth of the ghost, feeling a light pass into her that began to thaw her frigid insides. All too soon the spirit pushed her from him leaving her tingling all over as memories of being licked continued to run through her mind whilst he continued to speak.
“Have you had that done to you before?”
“Not in a very long time.”
“Have you seen one such as me before?”
It was clothed in a simple green tunic which stopped at its waist, bare otherwise with a huge erect cock sticking into the air. It wore no other covering.
“I have not. Conduct me where you will spirit. I went forth last night on arousal and spunk and I learnt a lesson which is working now. Tonight if you have anything to teach, let me profit by it.
“Put your mouth on my cock.”
This Carol eagerly did although her jaw had to stretch to fit him inside. She licked along the length of his shaft, pulling her mouth back to run her tongue around the tip, tasting the drop of precum which emerged there. The spirit thrust forwards into the back of her throat, grabbing her head to hold her in place as he fucked her face faster and faster until his cock jerked and a waterfall of spunk poured over her tongue and down her throat.
At the instant she tasted his cum, the room vanished and they were stood on the city streets on Christmas morning where the people scraped snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings and from the tops of their houses. The sky was gloomy and there was nothing cheerful in the climate and yet there was an air of cheerfulness abroad, the people jovial and full of glee.
The shops were still half open, glimpsing through shutters brought the view of almonds so white, sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, cakes so spotted with sugar as to make the coldest onlookers feel faint and then bilious.
Soon the steeples called good people to church and chapel and away they went in their best clothes. At the same time there emerged from side streets people carrying their dinners to the bakers’ shops. The sight of them intereste
d the spirit for as they passed he sprinkled a little drop of cum on their dinners from his cock. It was very unusual spunk for when there were angry words between people, a few drops of cum and good humour was restored directly and they said it was a shame to quarrel on Christmas Day.
“Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?” asked Carol.
“There is. My own.”
“Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?”
“To any kindly given. To a poor one most.”
“Why to a poor one most?”
“Because it needs it most.”
They went on, invisible as before which gave Carol opportunity to stare long and hard at any persons she felt attractive without feeling as if she pried too far into their modesty. Finally they reached the home of Carol’s clerk, pausing at the threshold of his door for the spirit to smile and bless Bob Fuckwit’s dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch.
Up rose Mrs Fuckwit, dressed in gown and ribbons, laying out the cloth assisted by Belinda, second daughter, whilst Peter plunged a fork into the pan of potatoes. Two smaller Fuckwits came tearing in screaming that outside the bakers they smelt the goose and knew it for their own.
“Where is your father?” said Mrs Fuckwit. “And Teeny Tit?”
In came Bob the father with Teeny Tit upon his shoulder. Alas for Tom he bore a crutch and had his limbs supported by iron frame.
“How did Tom behave?” asked Mrs Fuckwit.
“As good as gold and better. He is growing strong and hearty, the little Fuckwit.”
In came Teeny Tit with his siblings and together they sat beside the fire while the goose was sent for. Mrs Fuckwit took Bob into their bedroom for him to provide her with lovegravy whilst mashing her shirt potatoes before returning to the stove to produce gravy whilst the potatoes were mashed with vigour.
At last the dishes were set on and grace was said. There never was such a goose for tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness. Once everyone had enough the pudding was brought out of the copper and the smell brought watering mouths to the fore.
Dinner being done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept and the fire made up. Then all the family drew around the hearth for a toast, Bob proposing, “A Merry Christmas to us all my dears,” which the family echoed.
Teeny Tit sat close by his father’s side, hands held tightly as if Bob dreaded his son might be taken from him.
“Spirit,” said Carol with an interest she’d never felt before. “Tell me if Teeny Tit will live.”
The spirit was staring at the wall to its left. “I see a cracking pair of tits passing by in the street outside.”
“Concentrate spirit, I must know.”
“I see a vacant seat and a crutch without an owner but what of it? If he wants to die, he had better do it and decrease the surplus population.”
Carol hung her head to hear her own words quoted back to her and was overcome with grief.
“To Carol Christmas, founder of the feast,” said Bob.
“Founder of the feast. Fucker of my husband more like,” replied Mrs Fuckwit.
“My dear, the children. Christmas Day!”
“It would only be Christmas Day that one would drink the health of such an unfeeling woman as Carol Christmas.”
They were not a handsome family, they were not well dressed, their clothes were scanty but they were happy, grateful and pleased with one another and when they faded Carol had her eye upon Teeny Tit until the last.
By this time it was getting dark and snowing heavily as Carol and the spirit went along the streets, glancing in at roaring fires and cosy dinners, sexual encounters taking place in many homes to mark the season of White Christmas. All of a sudden they were on a bleak and deserted moor where masses of rude stone were cast about and nothing grew but moss and furze. Down in the west the setting sun left a streak of fiery red before being lost in the gloom of the night.
“What place is this?” asked Carol.
“A place where miners live, no not minors, miners before you even ask. Here they labour in the bowels of the earth and yet they still enjoy sexual encounters.”
A light shone from the window of a hut and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a cheerful company within. An old man and woman were fucking by the fireside and in other nooks and crannies lay other copulating couples, all them jolly and some gay.
The spirit did not tarry here even as Carol begged to linger, they went on over the moor to the sea, passing over thundering water until they reached a solitary lighthouse. Here two women who watched the light had made a fire and joined their horny hands together before moving onto their horny bodies, copulating merrily.
Again the ghost sped on until far from shore where they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel as a woman knelt before him, teasing and toying with his cock as he hummed a Christmas tune.
It was a great surprise to Carol as she looked at the oral skills of the sailor to see she was no longer at sea but now in the bright and dry room of her step-nephew with the spirit by her side.
While Carol’s step-nephew laughed and rolled his face, his wife rolled onto him, laughing to see his shocked expression when she whipped off her dress and pressed his face to her breasts, riding him for all he was worth.
“She said Christmas was a cumbug,” cried Carol’s step-nephew.
“More shame on her,” she replied, “for cumbugs are the most pleasant of bugs to be found in this world as you shall see.” She was very pretty and prettier still as her cheeks grew rosy with excitement and arousal.
“I see it right now,” moaned the gentleman. “She on the other hand refuses to see the benefit of orgasm to a healthy mind.”
“I am sure she is very rich nonetheless.”
“What of that my dear? Her wealth will not put a cock in her ass nor bring sticky wetness to her thighs.
“I have no patience with her.”
“Oh I have, I am sorry for her for if she only knew how delightful it felt to have a pussy such as yours clamped to her body. In consequence she loses many pleasant moments which would only do her good.”
After they had both come they had some music for they were a musical couple and the tune they played was familiar to the girl who fetched Carol from the finishing school. When it sounded Carol softened, thinking she could have listened to it for all time.
After music they played erotic forfeits, the wife was spanked until her bottom was as rosy as the ghost’s cheeks, the husband made to resist coming until his companion had climaxed twice by her own hand. Carol begged to be allowed to stay until their sexual congress was done but the spirit said it could not be done.
They played a final game of yes and no where Carol’s nephew had to guess what his wife was thinking of when the only answers to questions were yes or no.
“Is it something you can put in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Is it something you can put in your pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Is it something you can put in your posterior?”
“Yes.”
“Is it bigger than a bread bin?”
“Yes.”
“I have found out what it is. It is my cock.”
“No, it is a dildo but good guessing!”
“Perhaps I should give my step-aunt one for Christmas, it might bring a smile to her face should she ever choose to use it.”
The scene faded away in the blink of an eye and on they went to many homes and many bedsides, watching many orgasms at home and abroad until they heard a clock strike quarter to twelve. “I see something behind you,” said Carol as from the back of the spirit emerged two wretched figures which made her recoil in horror. “Are they your friends?”
“They are yours. The man is chastity and the woman prudity. Beware them both.”
“They are so thin and ill. Have they no refuge or resource to turn to?”
&nbs
p; “Are there no prisons?” said the spirit. “Are there no whorehouses?”
The bell struck twelve. Carol looked for the ghost but saw it not. Lifting up her eyes she beheld a solemn phantom, draped and hooded, wanking with vigour along the ground as it approached Carol.
Chapter 4
The phantom came near, shrouded in deep black which concealed its face and form, leaving nothing visible save one outstretched cock.
“I am in the presence of the ghost yet to come?” asked Carol.
The spirit answered not but pointed onward with its cock.
“You are to show me shadows of sexual encounters that have not happened but will happen in the time before us?”
The upper portion of the garment contracted as if inclining its head. Although well used to erotic company by this time, Carol desired the silent shape so much her legs trembled and she could hardly stand to follow it.
“Ghost of the future,” she exclaimed. “I want you more than any spectre I have seen. But as your purpose is to teach me a distinct moral lesson I am prepared to hold off diving onto that cock of yours. Will you not speak to me?”
It gave no reply, the cock pointed straight before them.
“Lead on for the night is waning fast and I am desperate to get into my bed and masturbate for the first time in many years.”
The phantom moved on and Carol followed. They scarcely seemed to enter the city for the city seemed to spring up around them. Around them stood a number of whores chinking money in their pockets. “I don’t know much about it, only that she is dead,” said one.
“When did she die?” inquired another.
“Last night I believe.”
“What was the matter with her?”
“She died for lack of cock.”
“What has she done with her money?”
“I know not. She hasn’t left it to me, that’s all I know.”
“It’ll be a cheap funeral no doubt for who will go to it?”
“I’ll go if sex is provided,” laughed another whore.
The phantom glided on into a street, pointing its cock at two people meeting.
