Lubrican's Spooky Stories

Lubrican's Spooky Stories

by Robert Lubrican

Uncensored Edition

Copyright 2021 Robert Lubrican

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Bookapy and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to use cover art purchased at istock.com

******

Table of Contents

Book One - Haunted Twins

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

******

Book Two - The Ghost

Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three

******

Book Three - Being a Jerk for Halloween

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Epilogue

******

Book Four - You Have to Choose

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

******

Foreword. The title of this book uses the word "spooky" but there were only three stories, or books, that I had written that actually involved "spooky" themes. I didn't feel like they were long enough to comprise a whole book. I had, however, written a Halloween story that could be included to make the volume long enough. That ended up making things 82,000 and some odd words long. I did not, however, want to name this book "Lubrican's Spooky and Halloween Stories" because that just seems cumbersome. There are also issues fitting that on a cover. So this is the disclaimer that, while most of the book is indeed (I hope) spooky, one book is just Halloween fun.

Thanks for reading.

Bob

******

Haunted Twins

Chapter One

It happened because we moved into a haunted house.

You probably don't believe in ghosts. We didn't, either, back then. We do, now, though.

It happened because Dad sold his company for a lot of money and we moved to Morganville, where there was this old house that Mom fell in love with one time when we saw it as we drove through the town on our way to Grandma and Grandpa Bunter's house. They were my mom's parents and they lived in Ohio. We lived in Nebraska, in Lincoln, where Dad started his own business after college.

We'd driven through Morganville dozens of times, but always just through it. Then, one time, it happened to be lunchtime when we got there and Mom said we should find a park to eat in. We always packed our own food for trips back then. So Dad turned off the highway, looking for a park, and Mom saw the house. We were ten, at the time.

"We" is my sister Emily and me. We're twins. We're the kind of twins you hear about and see in pictures. We always knew what the other one was thinking and we liked the same things. Our mother dressed us alike until we were seven or eight. She still makes us matching shirts and stuff like that. She's a sewer, or seamstress or whatever you call it. When we were first born and Dad's business was just getting off the ground, she made all our clothes because they couldn't afford to buy them.

Anyway, Emily and I were ten when we first saw the house. It looked cool and spooky, back then. It was three stories tall and old. When you're ten you don't think about how old stuff is, but it had to be a hundred years old when we first saw it. It was faded, with almost no paint left on it, and was surrounded by a tall, rusting old fence. Even as kids we could tell it had been the crown jewel of the town once upon a time. But the crown jewel was all run down, and it was obvious nobody lived there. The lawn was mowed, but around the edges the weeds had been allowed to grow up. Little trees, too.

I remember seeing a little octagonal window in the wall, high up on the top floor. I wondered what the world would look like if I could lean out that window and look around.

Mom oohed and aahed over the house and made Dad stop the car so she could look at it some more. We didn't get out, though. Just looked. And then we went on and found a park and had our picnic and I thought the house was just another semi-interesting piece of architecture I'd seen in my life.

But every time we went to see Grandma and Grandpa after that, she told Dad to drive by the house. She called it "her" house. She'd say, "Drive past my house, Paul," and he'd detour to the old thing.

It never changed. Nobody ever lived in it and it just sat there. It looked like it was ... waiting for something. Or someone.

Then, when Emily and I were thirteen, Dad sold his business for a ton of money and, suddenly, he could retire. Mom had always worked for his company, so she could retire, too.

When they told us we were going to move, I had this premonition that I somehow knew where we were moving to. I was right.

Dad bought Mom's house for her.

******

We didn't move in right away. It took them a year to fix the place up. Dad said it cost as much as if we'd built a brand new house, and Mom kissed him and said, "This one is better than a new one."

We were still living in Lincoln when Dad dropped the bomb shell. It was at supper and he'd just gotten back from inspecting the progress on our new/old house.

"Guess what?" he said, grinning with relish. "Our new house is officially haunted."

"What do you mean, officially haunted?" asked Mom.

"I went to the library to see if I could find out more about the house. I ran into an interesting lady there named Gertrude. She's in her nineties and she's lived in Morganville all her life. She told me the story about how our house is haunted. That's why nobody has lived there since 1968, and that's why we got it so cheap."

"Nobody said anything like that when we were trying to buy it," observed Mom.

"Of course they didn't. They were afraid we'd back out of the deal if we knew," said Dad. He thought this was all great fun.

Of course to a couple of thirteen-year-olds, this was all fascinating stuff. We didn't believe in ghosts, but it was still fascinating.

As the story goes, the house was built in 1850 by a man who was in the mining business. Morganville was just a little farming community back then. His son died in the Civil War and his wife died of a broken heart. He married again and had a bunch of kids, but something bad seemed to happen to them all. Some got sick and died, and one was trampled by a horse. Different people owned it in 1917 when the US entered WW I, and their sons went off to war and were killed. It changed owners again before WW II and the same thing happened. The sons went off to war and never came home. It skipped Korea, but then, the older of two sons went to Vietnam and was killed.

The family moved out, and that was the last time anyone had lived there.

Gertrude said that it was haunted by the souls of all those boys who had been killed in conflict. She said they had unfinished business. They hadn't gotten to get married and have families and grow old with someone they loved. And, because they had lived in that house when their business became unfinished, they haunted the place.

Mom laughed and said this was silliness. She said the reason nobody had lived there since 1968 was because it needed so many repairs and was so expensive to heat and cool and all that. That was one of the things Dad was having them do during the renovations. The workmen had removed all the lath and plaster to facilitate rewiring everything, and before they put sheetrock up they were also putting in insulation. Mom and Dad only planned on using the lower two stories. There were two bedrooms on the main floor and three bedrooms on the second floor. One of those was going to be Mom's new sewing room. The other two were for me and Emily. The bedroom at the back of the house on the main floor was reserved for when Grandma and Grandpa came to live with us in their old age. That's one reason Mom wanted this place. It was big enough to handle all her future plans.

The third story wasn't very big, in terms of usable space. It consisted of one long room with sloping sides that were the underneath of the roof. It was maybe ten feet wide at shoulder level and twenty-five feet long. That octagonal window I mentioned was at one end and that was the only natural light source up there. It was bigger than it looked from the ground. It was four feet tall and had stained glass in it, in the shape of a rose. It made the attic, as Mom and Dad called it, look hot with all the red light it cast on everything. It didn't open, though, so I never got to see the world from that vantage point.

When they started the work Dad told them not to worry about the third floor, except to rewire and insulate it. The board floor was left alone. You could tell it had been plain, rough boards when they were new, but they'd been worn smooth over the years by whoever had lived up there. It was full of broken furniture and boxes of old things and junk. Dad said that, when we moved in, it would be Emily's and my job to clean it out. He said that would be our "sweat equity" in the new house.

We moved in during August of the summer before we started 9th grade. We hadn't wanted to leave all our friends in Lincoln, but Mom said we'd make new friends. Starting high school was a good time to make new friends, she said.

She was right. We did make new friends. We were the talk of the town before we showed up for school on the first day. We had moved into the haunted mansion. We were twins. Everybody was interested in us. Morganville's population was around six thousand. It had been that number for the last two censuses and would probably be the same for the next two. The local industry supported agriculture and the town was surrounded by farmers for fifty miles in all directions. Morganville wasn't a destination. It was a place you drove through on your way to somewhere else.

Unless you were my mother and fell in love with a haunted old house.

Of course we didn't believe it was haunted when we moved in. It creaked a lot, but that was to be expected. Our rooms were new and smelled of fresh paint. We were starting high school and, while we weren't excited about moving there, we were resigned to make a go of it. After all, it would only be for four years, and then we'd go to college and go off to start our own lives as adults.

******

There were no omens or harbingers. What happened did so suddenly and without any warning. Emily and I were engaged in clearing stuff out of the attic and we found this old trunk, buried under other stuff. Inside it was clothing. It looked like it was from styles popular in the twenties. There was a flapper dress that was all silver and glittery, with lots of fringe on it, and a man's outfit that included spats and a broad-brimmed hat in a hat box.

"This is cool!" gushed Emily as she held the dress up.

"Looks like something some couple treasured," I said. "I bet they went dancing in it."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm going to try it on."

Then, right there in front of me, she took her clothes off.

Don't get me wrong. Emily and I had seen each other naked plenty of times. Mom had bathed us together until we were eight. On our birthday she said we had "graduated" to taking our own baths by ourselves and that we should be proud. We couldn't think of anything to be proud of and both of us missed being together in the tub. But life goes on and, since then, the only times we saw each other without clothes on was by accident. Like if I went to her room to ask her something and she wasn't fully dressed. Like that.

Now, though, she just took her clothes off. We were fourteen, and I hadn't seen her naked for six years. Not entirely naked. But that's how I got to see her then. I mean she even took off her bra and panties!

This was a very different sister than I remembered from the bathtub. Her chest wasn't flat anymore. Of course I knew that. I'd seen her boobs push her shirts out more and more over the last couple of years, but I hadn't thought anything about it. Her friends' chests did the same thing. Women had boobs, you know? They had never been that interesting.

But now, as I stared at her boobs, with their bubble-gum-pink tips, I was suddenly interested in boobs. And then she stood up from pushing her panties down and I saw the fluff of hair between her legs. This was something I had been paying attention to. Not on her. On me. I was finally producing a crop of darkish pubes around my cock and balls that I wasn't ashamed of. It had taken long enough. It seemed like all I could grow for years were a few wispy hairs.

Emily was ignoring me completely as she shimmied into that flapper dress. And she did shimmy. As she pulled it up over her hips her body moved and her boobs shook like Jell-O shakes before you cut it up into cubes. She tugged and pulled and somehow, that dress fit her like it had been designed with her body in mind.

Finally, she looked at me.

"Isn't this cool?" she gushed. "It fits me perfectly!"

That was a harbinger we didn't catch. Here she was, fourteen, standing at five-three, and a dress clearly intended for wear by a full-grown adult fit her like a glove. How could this be?

"You're not getting dressed!" she yipped.

I hadn't been aware we were playing dress up. I was still a little stunned by seeing my thoroughly grown-up twin naked.

Which is why, I'm sure, that I didn't think anything about getting naked too, to put on a dead man's clothing. I kept my socks on, but that was all. And, for some reason, it didn't bother me that I had a stiffy when I started pulling that man's clothes out of the trunk.

"Bobby!" squeaked Emily.

I looked at her. She looked amazing in that dress.

"Look!" she squeaked again, pointing at my groin.

That's when I realized I had a boner. It was ... weird.

"Stuff happens," I said, lamely. I started putting on the silk shirt, pants, suspenders, and shiny black shoes that were in the trunk.

I didn't know what to do with the spats. Mom would explain them to me later.

Another harbinger was there and, again, we missed it.

Those clothes fit me to a T, too.

"We should wear these for the Halloween party," said Emily, whirling around to make the fringe fly away from her body.

That day was October the fifteenth and the first major social event of the year in school was the Harvest Festival. Over the years it had turned into a Halloween-themed event and everybody wore costumes to the dance. Or so we were told.

"Cool," I said. I had planned on going as the Hulk, but this was fine.

That was another warning I missed. It was suddenly just hunky dory that I was going as some dude from the twenties, dressed in suspenders and a fedora.

******

Mom thought our outfits were "adorable." I think she was happy we hadn't begged her to make costumes. She was still setting up her sewing room and a million other things associated with moving into a new house. There were still boxes everywhere that hadn't been unpacked.

And so it was that, the first Halloween in our new/old house, Emily and I wore the stuff from that trunk to the Halloween dance.

We weren't allowed to date, yet, and we hadn't had time to get interested in any particular members of the opposite sex, so we danced together. Your average siblings probably wouldn't dance together in public events like that, especially during the slow songs. But we did. That felt normal. If you were a twin you'd understand.

Nothing strange happened at the dance. We talked to the few friends we'd made or were making, and drank punch and danced and had a good time.

The strange part happened when we got home. It was about 10:30.

"That was so much fun!" exclaimed Emily. She whirled again. She'd had fun with that fringe all night long.

"It was," I agreed. "I liked dancing with you."

She stopped.

"I liked dancing with you, too! Especially the slow dances."

"Really?"

"Dance with me one last time?" she offered.

"There's no music," I pointed out.

"We can dance to music in our head."

We had climbed up to the attic. I still can't explain why. Maybe it's because that's where our "costumes" had come from. I know we eventually put them back in that trunk.

But before we did that we danced again. Really, all we did was embrace and move our hips to silent music.

And - again I can't explain it - I kissed her.

I should say we kissed, because she kissed me back instantly. We've never been big on shows of affection in our family. We've seen Mom and Dad kiss, but it was always something semi-chaste. They certainly didn't grope each other in front of us. And while Emily and I have always had that twin bond that's closer than most siblings experience, we had never had any interest on a ... romantic ... level.

This kiss, however, was ... romantic.

I should say all of our kisses were romantic, because that kiss went on and on, and then we took a breath and kissed again and kept doing that, standing there hugging each other tightly while our hips moved. To put it plainly, we made out. I felt this urge to see what French kissing was like. I'd never done that in my life. Our lips had been closed, up to this point, and I opened mine a little and pushed the tip of my tongue against her lips. We hadn't said a word since starting to kiss and she said nothing now. Her mouth opened and we started swapping spit like we'd been doing it ten years.

Finally we pulled our lips apart. Our embrace didn't ease. Our noses were almost touching and her wide eyes stared into mine.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said.

I could smell the faint odor of the punch we had drunk on her breath, and was wondering if my breath smelled the same when she kissed me again.

It was another French kiss, and it just kept going on. I realized I had an erection, and that she must feel it pressed against her groin, but she didn't pull away.

Time seemed to be suspended and we kept kissing each other eagerly. This was so different than our usual behavior, and yet it felt normal, somehow.

Finally, when I realized my hand was moving toward the side of her breast, I pulled back.

"We should stop," I panted.

"Okay," she breathed.

And then we got undressed and put those old clothes back in the trunk. Again, this seemed completely normal, to get naked in front of each other up in the attic, in the dim light from the few, bare bulbs the workmen had left hanging from the peak of the ceiling.

We looked at each other. She stared at my boner, but didn't say a word. We had both stripped naked. We didn't talk about it and I don't remember deciding to do it. Her bra and panties were on the floor beside my briefs when she closed the trunk with a soft thump.

"We shouldn't go downstairs naked," she whispered.

She put her bra and panties back on and I stepped into my briefs. The front stood out obscenely, but there was nothing I could do about it.

And then we went back down to our rooms. In front of her room she kissed me one last time and rubbed her loins against my boner.

Then, without a word, she went into her room. I went down the hall and went into mine.

I jerked off.

Then I went to sleep, like it was a normal night.

Chapter Two

The next morning I woke up and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Mom was in the kitchen, humming as she did something at the counter. Emily was already in her usual seat, eating cereal while she looked at her phone. She looked up at me, smiled and then looked back at her phone.

Dad shuffled in. He hadn't shaved yet, and his dark stubble made him look faintly like the picture of a hobo I'd seen one time.

"How was the dance?" he asked no one in particular.

"Great," we answered in twin style.

"Did it help make up for me dragging you here?"

"Yes," we twinned again.

"I will never get used to that," he sighed.

The rest of the day was like that, just ... normal. Emily and I talked, but not about the kisses, and not about getting naked together. Everything was just ... normal.

The rest of the year was normal, too. Emily and I didn't sneak off to dark corners to kiss again. By February, when Valentine's Day was coming up, it was like it had all been just some strange dream.

Everything stayed normal, too, until October of the next year got there. Mom talked to us at supper one night.

"What are you two thinking about for Halloween costumes this year?" she asked. "My sewing room is up and running, now. I assume you don't want to go as a flapper and a gadabout again."

"A gad-a-what?" said Emily.

"A gadabout, a man who habitually seeks pleasure and chases women."

"That's what Bobby was last year?"

"He was dressed like a typical gadabout might have dressed in the twenties," she said.

"I have a hard time visualizing Bobby chasing women," laughed my sister.

"Just because you're too young to date doesn't mean he's not interested in girls," said our mother.

"I'm right here," I complained.

"Don't be rude," said Emily. "Be quiet while we talk about you." She grinned and cackled.

"I have an idea," said Mom. "It might be a little juvenile for two high school sophomores, though."

"What?" asked Emily.

"I have some gingham in my stash. I was thinking Raggedy Ann and Andy?"

"Perfect!" exclaimed my sister, without consulting me.

She and Mom made the costumes together. Mom was always trying to teach Emily how to sew and, before this, Emily had shrugged it all off. Now, though, she got into it.

The costumes had matching tops made out of blue and white gingham. The high-water pants they made for me were dark blue. A cream-colored apron went over a skirt made of the same dark blue material for her. Mom bought two cheap mop heads and dyed them bright red. They kept falling off our heads until Mom sewed them onto the tops of two of Dad's old baseball caps, with the brims cut off.

"Don't tell your father we used these," she said conspiratorially when we tried them on.

You could tell there was a hat under the "wigs" but it didn't matter. It was just for Halloween, anyway.

Mom ordered some red and white striped stockings on the internet. They were one size fits all, but we were able to tug them on above our calves, which was all that mattered. She looked at us, critically, when we did a "dress rehearsal" for her. She'd gotten us red clown noses and we had circles in some kind of red paint on our cheeks.

"That material is thin," she said. "Emily, be sure to wear a bra or your nipples will show through."

Now this was a singularly odd thing for Mom to say, at least in front of me. Nobody had ever talked about nipples before. Not in "public". She turned to me.

"And you might need to wear two layers of underwear. Or your jock strap. The one we bought you for gym when you were in the 8th grade? You still have it, don't you?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, wear it so you don't have any embarrassing accidents," she counseled.

That was a singularly odd thing for my mother to say, too. She had never discussed the possibility that I might "embarrass myself" in public. I knew what she was talking about, of course. And so did Emily.

I know this because when we left the room to go get back into regular clothes, she took my hand. She led me up to the attic. Then she turned to me.

"Do you think you'll embarrass yourself this year, like you did last year?"

She was obviously talking about the erection I had showed her the previous All Hallows Eve.

"Are you likely to take all your clothes off in front of me again this year?" I shot back.

"Probably," she said, carelessly.

"What?"

"But not until after the dance," she said. "I don't want you being all gross and icky in front of other girls."

Remember, we were just fifteen. We still weren't allowed to date. I didn't have a 'girlfriend' at school, and Emily didn't talk about any particular guy as being special. Our parents were big proponents of waiting until you were in college to date seriously and we had sort of absorbed that part of their value system.

So this was way out of character for Emily to say. And my response to that?

"Got it," I said.

"We should keep these costumes in the trunk," she said, standing on the bare floor of the attic.

"Yeah," I said.

And, just like that, we stripped down and carefully folded up our new costumes, setting them on top of the previous year's ensembles.

We didn't get naked this time. She still had on her bra and panties and I still had on my briefs. But she bent at the waist, with her legs straight, and turned her head until she was staring at the front of my underwear. Then she turned her head even more, until it looked backwards on her neck, like an owl does. She stared up at my face.

"Just checking," she said.

And then she stood back up and we went downstairs to our rooms, dressed only in our underwear, like that was the most normal thing in the world.

We didn't touch those costumes again until Halloween night, when we went to get them to get dressed. We didn't take them down to our rooms to put them on, though.

We did it in the attic, standing beside the trunk.

This time she got all the way naked. And she didn't put either her bra or panties back on when she got dressed as Raggedy Ann.

I had brought my old jock strap with me. I hadn't planned to actually put it on, but now I had another erection, thanks to Emily's hot, naked body having been on display. She had matured even more over the last year and her breasts now had a shape to them that went beyond firm cones. Now they were round and there were shadows under them. Her pubes were puffier, too.

So by the time I started to put on my high water pants, I needed that jock strap.

I was behind, and Emily had been watching me. When I got the jock strap up to my knees she spoke.

"Here," she said, kneeling in front of me. "Let me help."

"Helping" involved her grasping my erect penis and holding it while I pulled the thing up. Then she stuffed it into a jock strap that, to my knowledge, she'd never seen the like of before. And this whole procedure seemed as normal as pie!

She leaned back and observed the now bulging jock strap.

"Pull your pants up," she said.

I pulled the thin material up. It had elastic in the waistband, so I didn't have to fasten anything. She reached to smooth the fabric over the bulge of my jock strap.

"It will do," she said. "If you get like that tonight, just dance slow with me a lot." She grinned. "Or you can sit on the wall with the guys who won't ask anybody to dance."

******

We went to the dance, which was one of those "second verse, same as the first" kinds of things. The same teachers were there chaperoning, and the music sounded the same, with a few additions of popular songs that had come out during the year. Two guys asked Emily to dance. They were fast dances and when she came back to me I noticed her nipples were, in fact, visible through the cream upper part of her apron.

"I can see your nipples," I whispered to her.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"I wouldn't call it bad," I said.

"Okay," she said.

You have to remember that like Mom had never made nipples a part of public conversation before, neither had my sister and I discussed her nipples. It was like earlier, though, when she'd touched my boner and bent it to hide it in my jock strap. That had never happened before, either, but for some reason it felt ordinary.

She didn't dance any slow dances with other boys. If a slow dance came on, she always took my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.

And every time she "checked" to see if I was embarrassing myself. I know this because she told me. She rubbed her loins against mine and whispered in my ear, "Just checking."

We didn't say anything as we walked back home in the dark. Our house was only two blocks from the school, so all we'd taken was light jackets.

When we got in there was a note on the table that said our parents were at their own Halloween party.

"We should put these costumes in the trunk," said Emily. "Like a tradition."

We went upstairs. To the attic. Like it was habitual.

"I had fun tonight," she commented, as she started taking her Raggedy Ann costume off.

"Me, too," I said.

"I was proud of you," she said.

"Why?"

"You didn't embarrass yourself even once."

She was already down to her skin.

"Well, I'm going to embarrass myself in a minute," I sighed. She was so beautiful.

"Of course," she said, calmly. Everything that was happening seemed routine ... ordinary.

I got out of my costume and stood there in my stretched out jock strap.

"Let me help," she said.

She came, kneeled, and pulled at the firm elastic of the strap. My dick strained downwards and then popped up, bouncing in the air as she freed it. She kept going, pushing the strap to my ankles. I put my hand on her head to help me balance as I lifted one foot and then the other.

She stood, examining the off-white thing in her hand.

"It's like a bra for your penis," she said.

"I guess," I replied.

"Remember last year?" she asked.

"Of course. I thought about it a lot."

"Let's do that again," she said.

It was so surreal, because we didn't talk about it. We didn't suggest anything, except the kissing, on her part. It all felt so ... customary. It was almost like we were boyfriend and girlfriend, fooling around at the end of a date. Except neither of us had ever gone on a date, and neither of us had ever fooled around.

And, when we kissed, a long, sloppy French kiss, and her hand found my boner, that also felt natural. She didn't do anything with it. She just held it.

I felt her breasts, first, covering them with my hands as if I were going to push her away. She arched her chest into my hands and I knew she liked this. I let my fingers close as I pulled my hands back and they slid up the sides, top, and bottom of her round breasts until the tips found her nipples. They were hard, yet spongy, too. I squeezed them and she moaned into my mouth.

Now her hand did something. It did what my hand had done countless times. It slid back and forth, pulling the foreskin back to expose the tip and then covering it up again. I didn't wonder or even think about how she knew to do this. And it never once occurred to me that she might object when I moved my hands again. I moved one to her back and down to her firm butt. The other I moved to the juncture of her legs.

I had never done this in my life, but somehow I knew to slide my middle finger into her cleft, and put pressure at the top of her split. It was just in my head. She groaned this time and lifted one foot off the floor. The tip of my finger found her hot, slippery entrance and I pushed it into her virgin channel.

All this happened while the kiss went on and on and on. We didn't speak. We just masturbated each other as if we'd done it a hundred times. My head was filled with information that hadn't been there five hours before. I knew exactly how to bring her off. And she knew how to bring me off. She faltered as her orgasm overwhelmed her ability to do two things at once. I extended her orgasm by stiffening three fingers and running them up and down her slippery lips. When I sensed it was time to stop, I moved that hand to her side and moved my hips back so she could keep stroking me.

I didn't tell her when I was going to cum, but she knew, somehow. At the last second, as the first jet of creamy cum started through my cock, she pulled it until the tip was nestled in her fluffy pubes. She rubbed the tip all over her pussy as I came hard. I didn't go in her, but my cum was all over her pussy lips.

The kiss broke and she stared at me.

"I could do this all night," she said.

"Me, too, except that might be real dangerous."

"I know," she said. "One more kiss and then we'll go downstairs."

It wasn't one more kiss. It was half a dozen. We didn't touch each other again, sexually, except that she rubbed her matted pussy fur against my flaccid penis.

Again, we seemed to know when to stop. She packed our outfits into the trunk and picked up her panties. When she stepped into them and pulled them snug, the front got dark immediately as the cloth soaked up my semen. She leaned down, picked up my jock, handed it to me, and said, "I love you, Bobby."

"I've always loved you," I replied.

"I can't wait until next year," she said.

And with that, she went to the stairs and went down to her room.

Chapter Three

This time we did talk about it the next day. Dad wanted the yard raked, so we said we'd do it together.

Once outside I raked a little and helped her shove a small pile into the big bag she'd been holding.

"Bobby?" she said.

"Yeah."

"How did I know what to do last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"I knew what to do to make you cum," she said. "And you obviously knew what to do to make me cum. I never came that hard in my whole life! I know you've never done that to a girl before ... right?"

"Never," I said.

"So how did we know? And how do I know that next Halloween you'll make me cum again?"

"Maybe the attic is where the ghosts stay," I said. "Maybe they're using us to live the lives they didn't get to because they died so young."

"That's ridiculous," she said.

"Do you have a better explanation?"

"No, but it isn't ghosts."

"Okay," I said. "I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"Do you think we'll do anything before next Halloween?"

"No," she said, right away.

"I know that, too," I said. "How do we know that? I mean I loved it and I know you did, too, so why don't we want to do it other times?"

"I don't know," she said. "But it isn't ghosts."

"Maybe the attic itself has some kind of power. Or the trunk. The trunk was always open when we did stuff."

"Bobby, this isn't some voodoo, magic, sorcery."

"Emily, I love you. You know that. I never once thought about putting my hand in your panties until last night."

"I wasn't wearing my panties," she pointed out.

"And you went to the dance without a bra on. And that was after Mom told you to be sure to wear one! Why did that happen?"

"I don't know!" she barked. "It just felt right."

"What do you want to do?"

"Nothing. We have a whole year until we need to worry about it."

"I thought you said you couldn't wait until next Halloween," I reminded her.

"That was last night. Last night I couldn't wait until next year. Today I can wait."

"Got it," I said. "I still love you, though."

"Of course you do. I love you, too. But it's regular love now."

We went on to rake leaves. Raking leaves lets you think about stuff and I thought a lot about what had happened.

Someone, or something, was exerting influence on us. It was only on that one night of the year, but it altered our personalities. No, that wasn't right. We were still the same people. What changed on that one night was our moral and ethical attitudes. We were still twins, but that relationship altered to one of lovers.

There was only one explanation that made sense.

The house was haunted by the spirit of at least one young man who had left his sweetheart to go off to war, and never came back.

What we were doing was what he ... or they ... wished they could have done. We represented unfinished business to them, most likely because we were already inseparable, emotionally. We were as close as married people get. Well, except for the lack of a sex life.

And that seemed to come into existence on Halloween.

I decided to look into the history of the former residents of our house. I would dig and find more information. Had one of them left on October 31st? Had one of them died on that date?

But, like my sister had said. We had a whole year before we needed to worry about it. I could do research any time.

******

Another year passed unremarkably. We turned sixteen and there was a big party. Dad asked if Emily was sweet sixteen and never been kissed. She said it was none of his business, but she grinned at him.

"There better not be any boys kissing you," he growled. "Do I need to go buy a shotgun?"

"Oh, stop it!" laughed our mother. "Your little girl is growing up and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I suppose you'll want to start dating, now," complained Dad.

"Maybe a little," said Emily. "I can't think of a boy I want to go on a date with, but maybe I'll meet one."

"It's a small town," said Dad. "You should have met every boy in it by now."

"It sounds like you want me to go be alone with some boy," teased Emily.

"I do not!" he said, firmly. "I'd be happy if you didn't go be alone with a boy until you're in college."

"Not that again," groaned my sister. "I'm not waiting until college to go on a date, Daddy."

She did wait to go on a date, almost a month. A guy at school named Dennis asked her out and she accepted. They went bowling. That's what most kids in town did on dates. Other than park and make out.

She was home on time, meaning ten P.M. Dad waited up for her but didn't grill her about her date.

I was the one who grilled her.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We went bowling. We had chicken strips at the bowling alley."

"That's it? Did he want to park with you?"

"We did park," she said. She had a little smile on her face.

"Well? Did he try anything?" I was anxious.

"He kissed me," she said.

"Is that all?" I was really anxious.

"He's not as good a kisser as you are. Now, go away. I'm tired and I want to go to bed."

That was it. She made a veiled reference to the previous Halloweens, when she wasn't sixteen yet and got thoroughly kissed.

The thought of Emily and Dennis, sitting in a car in the dark ... kissing ... made me horny for some reason.

I had to jerk off before I could relax enough to go to sleep.

******

Summer came and I got a job at the pool. I didn't have the training to be a lifeguard, but they taught me how to do the water tests and how to put chemicals in the system. I also sat at the front and checked people in. I got to see all the girls in their bikinis, which was cool, but I never felt the urge to ask any of them out. When school started up again, though, tons of girls knew my name and sang out, "Hi, Bobby," when they saw me in the halls.

I never got the research done and suddenly it was October first.

"What's it going to be this year?" asked Mom.

"Nothing fancy," said Emily. "I think we'll go as Barbie and Ken."

"Aren't they girl and boyfriend?" asked Mom.

"No more so than Raggedy Ann and Andy," said Emily.

"Interesting," said Mom. "I might be able to mimic one of Barbie's outfits for you."

"Okay. That sounds good," said Emily. "I'll get out my Barbies and pick an outfit."

"Bring me several," said Mom. "I'll choose the easiest one to make." She looked at me. "I don't know what Ken wore. Something summery as I recall. We'll dye your hair blond."

"Dye my hair?" I goggled.

"Me, too," said my sister. "I need to be blond, too."

We waited to dye our hair until the day of the Halloween dance. That was because Emily had this idea to wear masks over our eyes so nobody would know who we were.

That was silly, of course. Everybody knew who we were the minute we walked into the gym.

I had helped Emily get dressed. Again, we took our costumes up to the attic. She had a whole box of tissues and one of Mom's bras. I stuffed the bra with tissues, sliding my fingers over her breasts as much as I could. She never said a word, but she kissed me once it looked like she was Dolly Parton.

Mom had done her hair all up, in what she called a bouffant hairdo. Emily was wearing a pair of Mom's old high heels. They had really tall heels on them and with her hair up, my sister looked like she was six feet tall. She had a short skirt on, not quite a mini, but at least four inches showed above her knees.

They had done me up to look like I had sideburns, and my hair was all slicked back with some kind of goop on it. They said it made me look like I had a doll's hair.

I was shorter than "Barbie" but one of the teachers exclaimed, "Oh look! Ken and Barbie! How cute!" So I guess the idea worked.

This year lots of guys danced with Emily. I could see them trying to push against her gargantuan breasts, but with all that padding in there all they were touching were tissues.

I managed one slow dance with her and she whispered in my ear.

"I'm so horny. I can't wait until we get back home."

Suddenly, I had a boner that felt like it might be appropriate alongside her jutting breasts.

I sat down for a while and a girl approached me, asking if I wanted to dance. Her name was Roberta and she had been a regular at the pool the summer before.

It was a slow dance and my cock was still hard, but I didn't want to turn her down.

We were dancing when she commented that we'd gone all out on our costumes this year.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Emily stuffed her bra and you stuffed your pants." She giggled. "You guys always have the coolest costumes."

If she'd known she wasn't feeling tissues stuffed in my pants I don't think she'd have been as happy.

They called last dance. Two guys were trying to get that dance with Emily, so she laughed and pulled them both against her. They swayed with the music for maybe ten seconds before one of them decided it was a little gay to him and broke loose. The other guy was happy and tried to put his hand on her butt. She reached and moved it.

Then it was over and we were walking back home. Emily took her heels off and walked barefoot, even though the sidewalk was cold.

"I wonder if it will work if we aren't in the attic," she said.

"If what will work?" I asked. I wanted to make her say it, and admit that something paranormal was going on with us each October 31st.

"You know," she said, dodging the issue. "It's working right now, so it should work anywhere, right?"

"Where would you rather ... um ... experience it?" I asked.

"My bed would be more comfortable," she said. Her voice was calm.

"You want to lie down with me, naked, on your bed?" I asked. I don't think my voice was very calm.

"Who said we'll be naked?" she said.

"Will we?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you say that?" I groaned.

"I wanted to tease you," she said.

"You've never wanted to tease me before," I commented.

"Well, tonight I feel like teasing you."

"The ghost wants to tease," I mused. "I wonder what else the ghost will want to do."

"There is no ghost," she said.

This time she didn't sound so sure.

******

When we got home there was another note. We knew there would be because they'd talked about how they'd met a couple who liked to play Spades and Hearts. The idea was for the men to team up in Spades. Supposedly that was to prevent marital arguments. In Hearts, of course, it was every man (or woman) for himself. The note said they'd be home around midnight.

We had an hour and a half.

******

 

 

Again, we didn't talk about what was happening. I just went with the flow and waited for the ghost to tell me what to do. Or enter my body and do it. Whatever.

Emily got naked and went to her bed immediately. Whatever ghost was using her had her going already and she acted like a girl who had done this a lot. I was erect when I got naked and she spread her legs while she pulled a pillow under her head.

Again, I don't know how I knew it, but I knew I couldn't fuck her. She was moving around. Her hips were twitching and she was rubbing her breasts.

"I don't understand," she moaned.

I got on the bed and the ghost told me exactly what to do.

I lowered my face to the juncture of her legs and tried to find her clit with my lips.

******

Emily went wild when she felt my tongue press into her empty sex.

"Yes!" she gasped.

Again, I was doing something I'd never done before, but it was like a road map was in front of me with all the points of interest circled. Those points of interest were her orgasms, and I gave her five of them before she pushed my head away and gasped, "No more! I can't take it!"

I kissed my way up her body and stopped to suck her nipples, something else the ghost said she'd like. She did. She let me suck at them for ten or fifteen minutes. Then, with energy I didn't think she had, she pushed me onto my back and all but swallowed my prick. I watched in awe as she kissed the tip and then shoved her lips all the way to my pubes. I knew what this was. This was deep throating. Once she had the first third of my penis in her throat she flexed those muscles like she was trying to swallow, maybe. Then she pulled off and sucked the tip. Her hand stroked my shaft and I was so stunned that all I could do was watch. She went all the way down again, exhibiting no discomfort whatsoever as the head of my prick slid by her gag reflex.

If this wasn't proof that some external source was at work, I didn't know what could be. I knew for a fact that Emily had never had a penis in her mouth. Sure, she'd been on dates, but I still knew, deep in my bones, that all she'd ever done on a date was make out with the boy a little. A few kisses. That's all she'd ever done with anyone but me.

Yet, here she was, exhibiting skills that only a very experienced cock-sucker would have.

"Gonna cum!" I gasped, as the ghost suggested she might like to have that information.

She pulled off until just the knob was in her mouth and sucked hard while she jacked on the shaft.

I filled her mouth with spunk but she never missed a beat. She kept sucking and I heard her swallow once. She stayed on until I pushed her head away.

Like I had, she kissed her way up my body. She sucked on my nipples a little bit and then moved so her face was over mine.

"Wanna see what you taste like?" she breathed.

She didn't wait for me to answer. She just kissed me and I found out what my semen tasted like.

******

We still had half an hour of safe time. We kissed for ten minutes with her lying on top of me. Her legs were spread and her pussy was in contact with my limp cock.

She pulled back from a kiss and got off of me. All she did was turn around, though, and straddle my head. She lowered her pussy onto my mouth and lay on my body to take my cock in her fingers. She squeezed and teased it until it was semi hard, and then she sucked it again.

This time, all we did was feel good. I don't think either one of us was trying to give or get an orgasm. It felt just like our kisses, warm and happy. It was more intimate than a regular kiss, but it was still something routine that two lovers like to do together. I got to know her pussy inside and out, and she got to know my penis like it was her best friend.

"You better go," she said, as the big grandfather clock in the living room made the first three of twelve bongs.

"We're in big trouble next year," I said, as I gathered up my Ken clothes.

"Only if your ghost demands more," she said.

"It will," I said. I knew this deep in my bones, too.

"We'll see," she said. She stretched. "I could do that all night, too."

I heard a car door slam outside.

I ran for my room.

Chapter Four

Only one person mentioned that we had gone to the dance dressed like a well-known doll and her boyfriend. That was Tiffany Rogers and we were in biology together.

"We're twins," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "It was Emily's idea."

"I can't believe you dyed your hair for her," said Tiffany.

"We're twins," I said, again.

She didn't say anything else.

The rest of our junior year passed as unremarkably as it's possible to be. Again, Emily and I didn't touch each other sexually. We still hugged, occasionally, but it was only in circumstances where anybody might have hugged.

Summer came, along with our seventeenth birthday. Dad didn't talk about whether or not his little girl had been kissed. Instead, they took us out to dinner in Cleveland, at a fancy restaurant. They had wine. We still got soft drinks.

On the way back home Emily held my hand in the back seat.

But that was it.

I worked at the pool again and the girls in their bikinis all flirted with me. I flirted back, but only a little. Two girls, Barbara Hutchins and Julie Simms, asked me when I was going to ask them out. I answered, "Soon," but only to get them past the check-in desk.

When I told Emily about it she said I should go on some dates.

"One girl has already asked me if you're gay," she said.

"I'm not gay!" I yelped.

"You never go out. What other conclusion will people come to?" she asked, reasonably.

"I'm not gay," I said again.

"I know that," she said. "If you go out with some girls, they'll know it, too. Problem solved."

The next day, Julie happened to be the first of the two of them to get to the pool.

"So where are we going on our date?" I asked.

"They have a skating rink in Baldwin," she said. "Can you skate?"

"I never tried," I said.

"I'll teach you," she said.

"Friday night?" I asked.

"Perfect," she said.

When Barbara got there I told her I had a date with Julie this week, but asked if she'd be interested in doing something the week after. She got all bouncy and said there was a movie she wanted to see.

Just like that, I had two dates.

******

Skating was a disaster. I fell down so many times I knew I'd have bruises all over my body. Julie had a great time, though. She'd put her arm around me and I'd put mine around her. When I fell I inevitably got a handful of Julie's breast as I went down. She had a nice set and she never complained. I finally stood up for one complete circuit of the rink and Julie said we should celebrate.

Celebration, for Julie Simms, meant making out in the car in the parking lot of the roller rink.

She got her breasts bare for me and it was looking like she didn't want to stop there when a security guard we didn't know the rink employed knocked on the window and told us we had to leave. I told Julie I'd been having fun, but I had a curfew and that we had to go home.

My sister told me what was going on after I told her what had gone on.

"Mom told me about this," she said. "It's a small town and if a girl isn't going to college then she needs a husband to support her. Girls are looking for a husband. If she lets you go all the way then she assumes you're her boyfriend and that you'll be off limits to other girls. When you graduate, presto, she wants to get married. Some of them even try to get pregnant so you'll have to marry them."

"Mom told you that," I said, stunned.

"Yeah. Tonight, while you were gone. She said she wasn't worried about you until all of a sudden you started dating."

"Don't you find it a little odd that our mother would talk to you like that about me?" I blinked. "She should have talked to me about all that!"

"She knew I'd tell you. She wants me to keep an eye on you and take care of you."

"That's her job!" I yelped.

"Not in this house," said my sister. "In this house it's my job to take care of you."

"Yeah, once a fricking year," I blurted.

"I can watch over you without doing all that stuff," she sniffed. "Besides, I can't let you go getting some girl pregnant before we get out of college. I can't go off to college by myself, Bobby."

"I'm not going to get anybody pregnant," I snorted. "If a girl wants to go too far I'll tell her I have an STD."

"And if the girl produces a condom and says that doesn't matter?"

"I'll tell her she's crazy and that I don't date crazy people."

"Yeah, that'll work," laughed my sister.

******

My date with Barbara went much better. We held hands in the movie theater and she wanted to make out when I took her home, but only for some hot kisses. I guess she wasn't as desperate for a husband. Or maybe she was going to college. I don't know. I should have asked her.

I solved the problem of second dates by asking more girls out. It was easy to get dates at the pool.

The problem was that dates are expensive.

Eventually I told everybody that I'd busted curfew on a date with somebody else and I was prohibited from dates for two months as punishment.

That put us back in school before I was "allowed" to date again. My curfew after school started was eight-thirty. I even asked Mom to set that curfew and she agreed.

Mom also got to us early, this year. She'd been taking sewing lessons at a quilting shop in town and they'd been working on sewing spandex.

"I got this idea," she said. "I can get light blue and black material. I thought of you two as Batman and Bat Woman. I don't know how to make a utility belt, but we could use fabric paint to draw it on the costumes. The head pieces I can do in black cork. And gloves. I can do gloves with a cuff of black cork. The capes are easy. So? What do you think?"

"It sounds wonderful," said Emily.

Did it?

Spandex? With painted on belts?

"Batman and Bat Woman never worked together in the comics," I pointed out.

"Who cares?" said Mom. They're just costumes for Halloween. I'm not trying to be true to any comic book characters. It's just for fun."

"Okay, fine," I said.

I got my sister away and asked her what she was thinking.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can't think of anything. I'm too distracted."

"Distracted? By what?" I asked.

"Well duh, Bobby. What do you think your ghost's going to want us to do this year? There's not much left!"

"I thought you didn't believe in the ghost," I said.

"I don't. Except you're right. I can't think of anything else that could make us do what we've done."

"Make us do?" I frowned. "It didn't feel like we were being forced to do anything."

"I wasn't forced," she moaned. "I wanted to do every bit of it. But why? And why only on Halloween? When I think back on what we did, the memory of it is electrifying! I loved it. And I loved you. So why, if it was that special, don't I want to do it every night of the year?"

"Because it's not normal," I sighed. There. It was out. The thing that had bugged me for years was out in the open.

"But don't you see?" she cried. "It was normal, for us. It never felt like I was doing anything pervy or wrong. It just felt like I was loving you the way you should be loved, and you were loving me the way I craved to be loved."

"But you know that nobody else would agree that it was normal," I groaned.

"So? Who cares? It's nobody else's business." She frowned. "Except the ghost, maybe."

"So now you do believe?"

"I believe in us," she said, firmly. "I believe we have something special, something precious."

"Okay, so why the angst about what the ghost ... about what might happen this year?"

She stood, hands on her hips, and stared at me.

"Bobby. I already know I'm going to want it all this year. I'm going to want everything. I'm going to want what married people want."

"Oh," I said. I understood. That was just as firmly in my own mind as it was in hers. I had just assumed she'd be the more sensible of the two of us and tell me that was off the table.

"But we can't get married, Bobby," she said. "And if what happens is what I think is going to happen, and we go off to college, then what? We won't be here the year after that. Does that mean I'll never feel that kind of love again? I can go without during the year. That's not so awful. But the idea that I'll never feel it again makes me want to cry."

"You'll feel it again someday," I said. "You'll meet a guy and fall in love and get married and then you'll feel it every night."

"You're an idiot," she snapped. "Nothing could ever feel like what I felt with you."

"Oh," I said. I felt my shoulders sag.

"That's why I'm so distracted," she said.

"Oh." I seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Suddenly, what kind of costume I wear this year doesn't seem to be all that important," she sighed.

******

Mom said she had to take measurements to do the super hero costumes. I don't know what Emily's session was like, but mine was very personal. Mom wielded the tape like a pro, stretching it against my body here and wrapping my body parts in it, there. When she got to my hips, she brought the tape together right on top of my cock. I was in my briefs only, by order of the seamstress. She stopped, pressing against my penis with the backs of the fingers holding one end of the tape.

"You have been keeping that in your pants, haven't you?" she asked, casually. She gave a little extra push against my manhood.

"Mom!" I gasped. Apparently the ghost affected people other than my sister and me.

"Well? Em said you've been having some issues with forceful girls."

"My sister spies on me?" I squeaked.

"Your sister loves you," said my mother. "I do, too. The last thing you need is some clingy, desperate girl roping you before you can fulfill your destiny in life."

"And what's my destiny in life?" I asked. Her fingers were still pinching the tape, still pressing against my meat.

"Find the right woman, get married, and give me as many grandchildren as Emily will," said my mother. She seemed to shake off a daze and removed her fingers.

"And some desperate high school girl can't do that?"

"Don't joke, Bobby. You need to get married for the right reasons, not just because some girl needs a husband."

"I'm keeping it in my pants," I said.

"Good." She sighed. "Your father sure isn't."

"What?!" I gasped. "Dad's cheating on you?"

"No, of course not," she said. She cocked her head. "Well, if he is, then he's the man in this family that needs a super hero outfit. He's been hornier than ever. Ever since we moved into this house he can't keep his hands off me."

"I'm not sure you're supposed to be talking to me about this," I said.

"Why not? You're a man, or soon will be. You need to understand how being a man can affect the woman you love."

"So you want him to back off?"

"I didn't say that," she said. "I need to get things done, though, and if he didn't volunteer at the Veterans of Foreign Wars, I might never get anything done."

"I've been meaning to mention that," I said. "Why does he volunteer there? He was never in the military."

"He says it's to honor the young men who lived in our house and who died for our country," said Mom. "They're delighted to have him. I take it they don't have much of a head for business. He's revamped their books and showed them where they're wasting money. Now he's doing home visits with vets who don't have a retirement plan. He's advising them on how to maximize their income."

Now I was sure the ghost was working on more people in the house than Em and me.

******

Worrying about it wouldn't stop October 31st from getting here. Mom's costumes were actually pretty cool, if a little amateurish. The spandex was amazing. As soon as I tried mine on my mother asked me if I still had my jock strap.

"You definitely need that this year," she said, casually.

Emily wasn't happy that her bra showed clearly through the tight material. She complained that it destroyed the lines.

"Band-Aids," said Mom.

"What?"

"Put those cute, circular bandages over your nipples. No bra to spoil the lines of the suit and your nipples won't embarrass you."

"Who are you?" asked my sister. "What have you done with my mother?"

"I was young once, too," said Mom. "And I wanted to wear a risqué outfit myself, a time or two."

"Too much information!" yelped Emily, covering her ears.

"You're sexy and you know it," laughed Mom. "Why do you think I insist Bobby goes with you to these dances? You need somebody along to make sure you stay out of trouble."

I was pretty sure Emily was thinking, 'If only you knew, Mother. If only you knew.'

"Bobby's a stick in the mud," sniffed my sister. "If some boy wants to dance slow with me, Bobby taps in."

"Good for Bobby," said Mom.

"So, Band-Aids for my nipples. What about the panty lines?"

"A girl your age showing no nipples might just have on a built-in bra," said Mom. "A girl your age showing no panty lines is a slut."

"I'm not a slut," said Emily.

"I know that." Mom frowned. "There might be an answer, but I'm loath to discuss it with you."

"What answer?"

Mom dithered.

"Well, you are seventeen, almost a woman. I suppose it won't make the Earth shatter."

"What, Mom?"

"A thong," sighed Mom. "It will need to be the right one, with just a string across the back. But it will also need to be at least a little modest in the front ... not too thin. I'll have to take you shopping over in Baldwin."

Nobody seemed to notice I was standing there the whole time this conversation took place.

I thanked the ghost, silently, in my head.

******

I hoped things would work a little differently this year. I hoped we might be able to speed things up a little. I hoped Emily would model her new thong for me before Halloween.

But the ghost was consistent.

"Hi," I said, when she got back to her room. She dumped several bags on her bed. She and Mom obviously bought more than just a thong.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was waiting for you. I hoped you'd model your new underwear for me."

"It's in that bag right over there, if you want to see it," she teased.

"I want to see it on you," I complained.

"And I suppose that's all you want me to wear."

"Bingo."

She looked at the front of my pants. My cock was interested, but not hard.

"You'll get to see it on Halloween," she said.

"Don't you have just the teensiest urge to do things when it isn't Halloween?" I asked.

"Like right now?"

"Yes."

"Of course I do." She came over to me, embraced me and kissed me. It was a sizzler. Then she pushed me away. "But I can control myself."

"Haven't I always controlled myself?" I asked.

"Yes, but I think it was the ghost doing the controlling, not you."

"So now you really believe in the ghost?" I was taunting her, which was counterproductive, if I wanted things to be speeding up.

"I told you. I believe in us. I think the ghost does, too. It feels stronger this year than it ever has. I know the ghost is going to be happy on Halloween. I also know I'm going to be happy. The last thing in the world I want to do is disappoint either the ghost or you, and if we don't do things the way Mister Ghost wants us to, he may haunt us in an entirely different way. Just be patient."

She waltzed over to me. It was only five feet but she managed to put a heck of a lot of sway into her hips. She didn't hug me, but bent at the waist to put her lips right beside my ear.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm going to fuck your balls off after the dance."

She shooed me out of the room.

The ghost allowed her a little further tease as I left.

She reached, found my now rock hard penis, and gave it a little squeeze.

******

She didn't kiss me or tease me or make veiled references to Halloween again. It was like the ghost said, "Okay. You sparred a little. Now you just keep training, so you're ready for the main event."

"Training," of course, meant trying to see how quickly I could get hard again after cumming. I masturbated that month like a mad monkey.

I got it down to eight minutes, once, and then decided I didn't want to risk breaking it before I got a chance to actually use it.

I couldn't help but wonder if Em was feeling the same stuff. In years past, that wouldn't have happened until Halloween day. That was the day, in years past, when we took our clothes off in front of each other, or "helped" each other get dressed. This year was different, somehow. This year the ghost was letting me feel things much sooner. If it was the same for Emily, she really was better at controlling herself. I know I stared at her a lot that October. The only evidence that I saw that she might be excited was that she didn't wear a bra as much as she had in the past. If she was at home, and wasn't going to be seen in public, she went without a bra. I saw her nipples a lot. They helped me 'train' before I slacked off on that idea.

We both knew the ghost was exerting influence on us. There were very overt things that made it clear the ghost was going to have his way with us. He wanted us to think about that, to be excited, to be in a high state of anticipation. What we didn't realize was that there was something he didn't want us to think about.

Not once before October 31st did either of us even think about condoms.

I saw the costumes in Mom's sewing room, but they were just empty shells, very two dimensional in a three dimensional world. Emily tried on her costume, of course, but I wasn't allowed to see her in it. Actually, I suppose she suffered the same frustration when Mom had me try on my costume. Assuming she was hot to see me in it.

When I tried on the body suit part of it the first time it took a little bit just to get into it. It was like trying to put on gloves that got sweaty and then dried out. They're a little small until your hands stretch them out again. Once I got everything in place, it felt like I was being hugged over every inch of my body. Mom ran her fingertips over my pecs and sighed.

"When did my little boy get so buff?" she murmured.

Hearing my mother use the word "buff" was strange enough, but then she knelt and brushed her hand over my groin, cupping my bulge.

"Yes, you definitely have to wear your jockey strap with this. They'll kick you out of the dance if you don't."

"Mom!" I moaned. "You're touching me!"

She leaned back and removed her hand.

"Don't be a baby about it," she said. "Some day, if it hasn't already happened, some girl is going to do that to you and you'll be very happy she did."

"I was hoping it would be somebody other than my mother," I objected.

She laughed! She actually laughed, and it was a belly laugh, too. Then, as if she had a switch inside her, she stopped laughing.

"So. Jockey strap for certain, right? Now, let's see about the hood and gloves. I'm not worried about the cape."

******

Halloween finally came. I had almost constant erections, now. Emily still didn't say anything, but I noticed she was really distracted all the time. She must not have been sleeping well, because she even got detention in school for falling asleep in class. It was old Mrs. Engle's World History class, which was as dry as she was. She looked like she was in her seventies and every bit of life had been sucked out of her and packed into the lessons she taught. I never met another person who was so lacking in a sense of humor as she was.

Emily had never had detention in her whole life and she was mortified. So I went and stayed in detention with her. I found out later that if the teacher hadn't been there the whole time I would have gotten fucked ahead of the ghost's time schedule. She said that on that day, when I came in the room and said I was going to sit with her through her embarrassment, she knew she'd never turn me away as a lover. Not even if she got married.

Of course I didn't know that, then. All I knew was that she burst into tears and I thought it was because she was so embarrassed for me to see her like that. I kept telling her it was okay, but she didn't stop crying like Mom had stopped laughing.

Anyway, Halloween finally came. I didn't get to see her naked as we got dressed. That's because Mom and Dad wanted to see us in our outfits together. They always took pictures, but usually it was when we were trying things on. They usually had somewhere to go, just like we did. This year, though, they waited to see us ready to go, so we couldn't get dressed together. If we had been able to get naked before the dance, I'm absolutely positive that Emily would have gone to the dance with her pussy full of my spunk.

So I didn't get to see her in her costume any sooner than Dad did. I got dressed first, and when I came out, and stood there, full of angst, he looked at me and sighed.

"You really outdid yourself this year, Darling," he said.

"I'm rather proud of it, myself," said Mom, beaming.

Emily didn't appear for ten more minutes. She wasn't full of angst. She was proud of how she looked.

"Good Lord," gasped Dad. "It's practically pornographic!"

I agreed. Em's breasts thrust against the tight material, which couldn't confine them. The tips were smooth, but my imagination filled in the missing details. I looked at where the material also hugged her most female part. That gap that some women have was obvious. Again, it was smooth, but I could easily imagine the puffy, pale lips that I had penetrated with my tongue, the year before.

"Nonsense," said Mom. "She's simply a young woman in the blush of femininity."

"She can't go out in public in that," said Dad. "There will be a riot!"

"You're so sweet," said Mom, "but don't embarrass her. I think it's perfect! Don't they look just precious together?"

I felt the jock I had worn stretch, under the spandex that was also confining my penis. I avoided looking down, but even if I had, I don't think either of my parents would have noticed. Their complete attention was on their daughter.

The utility belts I thought would look stupid painted on didn't look stupid at all. Mom had found this paint for use on fabrics and when she'd put it on, the outlines stood proud in three dimensions. The "implements" on the "belts" had been done in multiple colors, with the outlines in a gold color, but with other parts in silver, gray, and black. It looked fake, but cool at the same time.

Emily whirled and held up her cape with one hand to cover the exposed part of her face. Her lips were dark, almost maroon, where she'd put lipstick on.

"Beware, evil-doers," she rasped. "You shall not avoid justice this night!"

"I'm not worried about justice," said Dad. "There's something else I hope can be avoided, though."

"You're so silly," said Mom, hugging him from behind. "Bobby will be with her all night. She's perfectly safe."

"Tomorrow you put that on," said our father, "and you'll see how unsafe things can be."

"Daddy, get a room," giggled the voice of my sister, coming from the image of a super heroine.

"Just make sure you don't get one tonight," said Dad.

"I can't wait until you walk me down the aisle," said Bat Woman. "You'll be a wreck."

"I will," said Dad. "I freely admit it."

"Now, off with you," said Mom. "You don't want to be late or everybody will stare at you when you get there."

"Trust me, Honey," said Dad. "Everybody's going to stare at them anyway."

******

We strolled down the street, headed for the school.

"Wanna go in the bushes before we get there?" I asked, hopefully.

"Yes, but it would be cold," she said. "And it would take too long to get dressed again."

I knew she was ready, and my bulge, when we got to the dance, was pretty obvious.

Nobody looked at me, though.

Everybody was too busy staring at Emily.

They knew who we were, of course. Her friends flocked around her, oohing and ahhing and, I'm sure, teasing her.

My friends came up to me, too, but it wasn't to talk about my costume.

"It must be pure torture living with her," said Scott Brown. "I bet it's boner central at your house."

"Watch it!" I growled.

"I'm just sayin'," he said, unrepentant.

"I'd be a wreck," said Jerry Simms. He was Julie's younger brother.

"You live with a hottie, too," I said.

"Not like that," he said. "You know, you broke her heart when you didn't go out with her again."

"I did not," I scoffed.

"She had all these dreams of being your girlfriend in your senior year and then marrying you."

"Which is why I didn't go out with her again," I said.

"I get it," he said, cheerfully. "I wouldn't want to be married to her, either."

"Well duh," said Rude Biggs. His real name was Evinrude, but everybody just called him Rude. He preferred it that way. He said his parents were high when they named him. That was supposed to be a joke but you had to wonder.

"I could imagine being married to Emily, though," said Jerry.

"She's going to college," I said. "You can marry her after that."

"Promise?" he said, still staring at Emily. "She'd be worth waiting for."

"Come on, guys," I groaned. "I don't want to hear about how horny you all are for my sister."

"Sorry, Man," said Jerry. "You look pretty cool, too."

"Thanks," I said. The band kicked off a rock and roll song then and everybody dispersed to find dance partners. Emily was mobbed by eager, horny boys.

I didn't get even one dance with my sister that night. I was steadily approached by girls who asked me to dance, but the atmosphere was different this year. I already had the reputation of a guy who didn't want a girlfriend because I was going to college. The girls who asked me to dance just liked me. I did get a few bodies pressed tightly to my spandex, though.

They had a contest every year for best costumes, one for a guy and one for a girl. The award usually went to someone who did all the extras to look like a real zombie, or a girl who had put hairy warts on her face to make her witch costume look extra real. We'd been in the running when we were Raggedy Ann and Andy, but we hadn't won.

Tonight we won. Emily was all smiles and giddy. I hadn't felt self-conscious all night. Even when a girl "bumped" my bulge, I didn't feel awkward. But standing on the stage while people gawked and clapped got to me. I glanced at Em and, to my horror, I felt my penis start to stiffen. There was nothing I could do about it, though, without drawing even more attention to it, so I just gritted my teeth and tried to think of something icky or painful. The "ceremony" was short, though, and we got off the stage to be congratulated in person.

Denise Crenshaw came up to me. She was dressed as Cinderella, down to the missing slipper. I had taken her out three times because she didn't push things.

"I really like you," she said, "but I think I hate your sister."

She grinned.

"Kidding," she said. "You guys deserve it. How do you always arrive in such cool costumes?"

"My mom loves to sew," I said. "It would hurt her feelings if she didn't get to participate."

"Well, don't hurt her feelings," said Denise.

"This is the last year she'll make us a costume," I said.

"There will be Halloween parties in college," she said.

"I guess so," I said.

She drifted off and I looked for Em. We'd gotten separated when we left the stage. I felt someone goose me from behind and I whirled to find Bat Woman laughing.

"Let's go," she said.

"It's still early," I said. It was nine-thirty and the dance always went until ten.

"I can't wait any longer. If we don't leave the front of my suit will show a stain."

"What?"

She leaned to whisper in my ear.

"I'm soaked, Bobby. "I'm wet down there. All I can think about is what I want to do when we get home."

"Gimme a minute," I said.

I waited for a fast dance and then asked Denise to dance. I promptly 'turned my ankle' and went down in a heap. Emily was, for once, standing by the punch bowl, not dancing, and she rushed to 'my aid'. I got up and put an arm around her, hobbling in an obvious manner.

"I'd better get you home," said Emily, loudly.

"He can't walk all that way," said Rude. He knew we walked to and from school all the time.

A teacher showed up to investigate. He had me sit down and felt my ankle. I winced in what I hoped was a convincing manner.

Another teacher showed up. It was Mrs. Bradshaw, the math teacher. They discussed things and decided I didn't need an ambulance. That was good, because a real doctor would have known in no time that I was faking it.

"I'll give them a ride home," she said.

And so, for our last Halloween in high school, we didn't have to brave the cold as we hurried to do naughty things together at home.

******

I hobbled up the steps to the front door, helped by Emily and Mrs. Bradshaw.

"If it gets worse, he needs to be seen at the ER," counseled Mrs. Bradshaw.

"I'll keep him off of it until our parents get home," promised Em.

"Pack it in ice, too," said the teacher.

"Will do," said Emily.

As soon as the door closed I stood firmly on both feet. That was good because Emily slammed into me, hugging me tightly. She kissed me and I heard the material of her mask rubbing against mine.

"Thank you," she gushed. "I couldn't wait even one more minute."

She pulled me to her room and then said, "Wait! Don't move!"

Our suits had zippers down the back. She reached under her cape and I heard the zip whiz. She pulled it down to the tops of her breasts, but didn't take her arms out. I saw a bulge appear over her right breast and then it moved to her left one. The bulge withdrew as she pulled her hand out. I heard the zip sound again and she stood, hands on her hips, her breasts thrust out.

Her nipples were hard and obvious as the stretchy material displayed their shape.

"I wanted to be like this for you all night," she said. "I can't take the thong off without getting undressed, and once I get undressed I'm not going to get dressed again until morning. Maybe I'll put the suit on later without the thong so you can see my wet pussy through it."

I was awestruck by her plain speech. The ghost was in overdrive, tonight.

"You're beautiful," I sighed. "But even if your nipples had showed I wouldn't have gotten to see them. I never got to dance with you."

"I know," she said, "but I was thinking of you with every boy I danced with."

"Are we really gonna do this?" I asked.

"Oh yes. We're going to do it more than once, Bobby." She struck a pose. "To the Bat Loft, Batman!"

"Bat Loft?"

"I made us a bed in the attic," she said. "Come on! I can't wait!"

We ran upstairs and into the dim attic. She had unscrewed two of the three lights. The bed consisted of two foam camping pads, covered by three or four blankets. I looked up to see her cape flutter to the floor. As I worked on my own cape ties I heard her zipper whiz again. She sat on the floor to get the legs off. Still sitting, she pulled the thong off, and I got a clear view of her glistening pussy lips. Getting the suits off was easier than putting them on but I was way behind when she bounced up, naked except for her hood, with its bat ears. I felt my cock lurch and was afraid I might shoot just from looking at her.

She scurried behind me and I felt my zip being lowered.

"Hurry!" she panted as I pulled my arms out of the sleeves. She went to the front and jerked the material down, exposing my bulging jock strap. Her fingernails almost scraped me as she pulled the front of that down. Her head darted forward like a bird spearing a worm and she deep throated my erection. She didn't stay on long, though. She pulled off and looked up.

"I don't want you to cum in my mouth tonight. I want it somewhere else."

"Stop!" I gasped. "I'm gonna shoot if you say another word!"

She calmed a little and tugged my legs down. I had to sit on the floor like she had to get everything off my feet. When the fabric finally came free she crawled to the bed and flopped onto her back, legs spread, knees bent, arms out.

"Pleeease, Bobby," she whined. "I need you in me now!"

There was no foreplay. Foreplay gets you ready to have sex, and we were both already ready. We both watched as she gripped my prong and brought it to lips that had never felt something like this part them.

I slid in.

She groaned.

I blew my nut before our pubes even meshed.

Thanks to my lucky stars ... or maybe the ghost ... I didn't go all the way soft. I lost the diamond hardness that had been there when I skewered her, but I was still thick enough to stretch her and long enough to massage whatever a vagina likes to have massaged. I stayed deep, still trying to push, and her hands came to make my hips move. I realized she was getting her clitty mashed so I helped her help me.

It was then, as I stared down at her passion-filled face, that something in my peripheral vision drew my eyes to one side.

There maybe two feet away from us was an amorphous blob of shimmering pale ... something ... and my overwhelmed mind realized that Ghost had actually manifested in the corporeal world. He was there ... with us ... hovering. As my startled eyes tried to make sense of what I was seeing, it oozed towards us and surrounded our bodies.

"Em!" I gasped, but she was oblivious to what was happening.

She came fast and hard. I don't think she's ever cum that fast, before or since, and her body couldn't decide what to do as it happened. First her legs wrapped around me and squeezed until I was afraid she'd break something. Then her arms and legs flopped out beside her, limp. Her hips lurched up and her head came up so far it almost hit mine.

"If you ever stop doing this I'll kill you!" she gasped.

Then it was hug, and go limp again, until finally her hands came to my shoulders.

I couldn't see Ghost any longer. The mist had dissipated, or something. Maybe it had sunk into our bodies.

"I love you so much," she panted. "I'll never love another man as much as I love you."

I wanted to shoot again, hearing those words, but I couldn't. It hadn't been eight minutes, yet. To be honest, as hard as I came, it would probably take a lot longer than eight minutes to recharge, even with Ghost inside my body.

And that's when I thought about condoms, and what I'd filled her nubile, fertile body with.

"We forgot the condom!" I gasped.

"I don't care," she said. "It was worth it." She pulled my face down for a kiss, but it was a short one. When I lifted my head she said, "I didn't know you even got any condoms."

"I didn't," I panted. "I forgot, or something."

"No, the ghost didn't want any condoms."

Had she seen it? Had his presence registered in her brain while we mated? Was he still here, inside us? I didn't sense anything inimical in the attic, or inside me. If Ghost really had inhabited our bodies, it wasn't to cause any horror. I didn't feel threatened in any way.

"I used to like the ghost, but now I'm pissed at him," I huffed. "He may have just gotten you pregnant."

"If anybody got me pregnant it's you, not him, and besides, this is an okay time for this to happen."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Otherwise I'd have thought of the condom. And anyway, the ghost doesn't want me pregnant. He wants me to marry you."

"You can't marry me," I pointed out.

That was a preview of Lubrican's Spooky Stories. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Lubrican's Spooky Stories» to Cart