Ghostly Touch

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Authors: Jennifer Smith

BOOK: Ghostly Touch
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Ghostly Touch

 

By Jennifer Smith

 

 

Book
Blurb

 

Zula Price’s powers as a witch were handed down from mother to daughter for generations. Her five times great-grandma Zula was a beautiful, strong witch who was caught up in the madness of the witch trials. She was the only one to have been drowned, hanged, and burned at the stake – and survived it all. Her powers were passed down through the years and Zula was the strongest witch yet. However, something strange has been happening. Every time she shuts her eyes to sleep, she’s pleasured in ways she has never known in real life, and she doesn’t know who the dream-lover is either.

When her plumbing goes on the fritz, she calls a plumber, and he turns out to be the most handsome man she’s ever seen. They begin dating but never once does he attempt to woo her into bed. He doesn’t even attempt to kiss her beyond a chaste goodnight kiss and Zula is getting quite perturbed by the lack of affection because she can tell Connor wants her.

And after a visit from great-grandma Zula and her current beau, who looks exactly like Connor, Zula begins to suspect their relationship goes much deeper than either knows. After a strange warning from grandma Zula, that leaves Zula wondering what’s really going on, she winds up in a very unfamiliar place. Trussed up like a hog, Zula is tossed into a pond while the crowd chants, “Witch, witch, kill the witch.” As the water engulfs her, Zula holds her breath and prays for a miracle. But she’s all alone and every cell in her body is gasping for air. Where is her dream lover now that she really needs him?

 

Contents

Dream Lover

Clo
gged
Drains

Grandma Knows Best

A New Friend

A Man That Also Cooks!

A Warning

Pizza, Beer, & A Story

Preferably, A Real Man

Heroes & Cowboys

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~ One ~
Dream Lover

 

             
She closed her eyes as he caressed her body and his fingers lightly touched her skin, causing a tremor to run through her. A sigh escaped her lips as his tongue followed the trail his fingers made across her abdomen. The warmth of his touch, the warmth of his tongue, and his heated breath on her skin sent a ball of fire floating through her body, settling low inside of her. She could feel the weight of his body as he moved across hers and flicked one puckered nipple with the tip of his tongue just before he sucked it deeply into his mouth. Her back arched to meet him and her hands moved over his shoulders to his head, urging him to suckle her tit with even more force.

             
He moved to her other breast, leaving a wet trail between them, and suckled that nipple just as rigorously. He worked her other breast with one hand, while the other one moved down her leg, then back up to her abdomen. He squeezed the soft flesh, kneading it in his palm, and then moved his hand between her legs. She parted her thighs as his fingers found their way to her clit and rubbed it gently in a tight circle. The little nub hardened beneath his touch and her hips rocked rhythmically against his hand.

             
She could feel his hard, swollen cock pressed against her thigh and her pussy grew even wetter as she thought of him entering her. She moaned as his lips moved up her neck to her ear, and he sucked the lobe into his mouth. Her hips rocked faster against his hand as he inserted two fingers inside of her.

“Yes,
” she whispered.

             
“Tell me what you want,” he said against her ear. “Tell me.”

             
“You,” she said. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me scream.”

             
He drew a line with his tongue down her body until his face was between her legs. He flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, and then flattened his tongue against her and rubbed until she was begged.

             
“Make me come,” she cried hoarsely. “I need your cock in me. Fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

             
On his knees in the middle of the bed, he grabbed both of her legs and threw them over his shoulder, as he slammed his cock into her in one savage motion. He crossed his muscular arms across her thighs and held her tightly against him, as his hips thrust back and forth. His cock slammed into her over and over, and each time he heard her cry out.

             
She massaged her tits with both hands and pinched the nipples hard between her fingers and thumbs. His large cock pummeled her so hard, she thought he might tear her perineum. But she was too far-gone to care. The only thing she could do was feel his energy zinging through her bloodstream as her body coming to life beneath him. Her skin felt electrified and every raw nerve ending became attuned only to the man holding her. He pummeled her pussy, invaded her body and caused such sweet torment, she thought she’d die if he didn’t give her the only thing she really needed at that moment.

             
“Yes,” she breathed, “fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me! Make me come. Now, yes, oh yes, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna...cooommmeee!”

             
He watched her face, every twist of her mouth, every move of her hands. She squeezed her tits, then moved one hand over her stomach to her pussy and began rubbing her clit in a violent motion as he continued to slam into her. He’d never felt such a violent force before, such an animalistic instinct to take, to capture, and to own. He felt her pussy contract around his cock as she screamed out, and he rammed into her again. Once, twice, and then he held as his balls tightened against his body. With his head thrown back, his eyes shut tightly, he sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs as a guttural sound escaped his chest, and he shot his hot load into her.             

He stood at the foot of the bed and watched her sleeping soundly, a slight smile caused her lips to curve and he smiled too. Would she remember him in the morning? He wondered. But he wondered that each time he left her and still had no answer. He took a step backward, his solid form fading quickly u
ntil he was a white mist barely even visible, and then he was nothing at all.

~ * ~

Zula Price sat quietly at the table, her crystal ball before her. She inhaled through her mouth and exhaled slowly through her nose. Eyes closed, she listened with all her senses and waited. When she opened her eyes the inside of the crystal ball appeared blue, and then, as if a great wind blew through it, the blue haze disappeared.

Zula sighed. “Is it too much to ask? I want a boyfriend, a lover, a
real
man in my life! I’m tired of the only man who touches me being in a dream. Oh, Thad, what do you think? Are you going to be the only man in my life?” Thaddeus merely arched his back and flexed his claws in a lazy stretch, and then meowed loudly, as Zula carried him to the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry. How about some tuna?” Thaddeus meowed again in response and waited patiently as Zula opened the can and dumped the contents into his dish. “There now. You eat while I get ready. It won’t be long before the trick-or-treaters come knocking on the door.”

             
Leaving Thad to his meal, Zula climbed the stairs to her room and changed into her costume. She wore a long, black gown with flowing sleeves a scooped neckline, and a tall, pointed hat perched on her head. Her legs were covered by red and white-striped thigh-high socks, and she put on ankle-high lace-up boots with heels. She stopped in front of the mirror and wrinkled her nose.

“I guess it’ll due since it’s what they all expect a witch to look like,
” she said with a laugh.

             
Down stairs she picked up her broom and set it beside the door, turned on the CD player already loaded with haunting music by Enya, and a Halloween CD that featured scary music with howling, and such songs as
The Monster Mash
, just for fun. In the kitchen she began loading small plastic cauldrons with candy and placed caramel apples, cookies in the shapes of ghosts, and Rice Krispy treats on trays, and set them on a table beside to the door. Next, she dimmed the lights, turned on the ghost and goblin lanterns and waited for the first trick-or-treater to arrive.

             
Halloween was Zula’s favorite time of year and from October first through November second, her house was the spookiest on the block. Zula spared no expense to make sure the neighborhood children got the scare they came looking for year after year. Of course, being the several times great-granddaughter of the original Zula Price helped. Great-grandma Zula had been a witch, as were all the women in the Price family, but Great-grandma had left an indelible impression on everyone who lived in her time, and the story had been passed down from generation to generation.

             
Zula wasn’t sure how much of the legend was actually true, but she was somewhat of a local celebrity as the only surviving relative of the only witch in Greenfield who had been hanged, drowned,
and
burned at the stake. The one thing Zula was sure of was Great-grandma had passed her powerful magic on to her daughter and all the daughters that followed, until the power had culminated in one very powerful witch.

Zula sighed at the thought. She
was
a very powerful witch, and had known the extent of her power since childhood. Sometimes that power had been misdirected, sure, but she had been young and it wasn’t as if she’d
actually
been able to turn her second grade friend, Christy Showers, into a frog. Of course, she couldn’t do that, but she had been able to make more than two-dozen frogs appear in Christy’s bed, and no one had been amused.

             
Chuckling at her childhood antics, Zula heard the first trick-or-treaters laughing as they came up the walk. She knew when they reached the porch because the chatter instantly stopped. Webs full of spiders hung suspended, glowing in the ghostly light from Jack O’lanterns that flickered their light through ferocious eyes and mouths. Scary music from the CD had begun to filter through the darkening night, but Zula’s favorite part was soon to come.

As soon as the first brave child stepped onto the porch, a large coffin next to the door creaked open and Dracula popped out, fangs and all. Zula chuckled when she heard the screams and sound of running feet.  She opened the door and stepped outside with a cauldron full of candy and smiled. Parents stood on the sidewalk pretending to laugh because their children had been frightened, but Zula knew the adults were often as scared as the kids.

              Zula stepped off the porch with the candy in one hand and her broom in the other. “He’s not the real Dracula,” she said. “Come get some candy.”

             
One little blond head turned toward her and said, “He’s not?”

             
Zula smiled. “No, he’s not. The real Dracula had to go back to Transyl-vania, so he won’t be bothering anyone tonight.” She held out the cauldron and slowly the little boy approached, then cautiously stuck his hand inside and pulled out a fistful of candy. Seeing that he didn’t lose a hand, the boy’s friends all came forward to get their share.

             
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘trick or treat’? Zula asked as the others approached.

             
“You already gave us a trick,” a little redheaded girl said.

             
“And now you’re getting a treat.” Zula chuckled.

             
“Trick or treat,” they said as a group, and then fought one another to get their hands into the cauldron.

             
Zula watched as the children continued on to the next house, parents following behind, and then she went inside. Thaddeus wound his way through her legs and meowed until she lifted him to her shoulder. “You are getting too heavy for me to carry around like a baby,” she told the cat as she scratched his ears.

             
Zula paused before the portrait of great-grandma Zula. The resemblance was uncanny. The black hair, the dark eyes, the upturned nose and slightly pointed chin.  Not beautiful, but not an ugly duckling either.

             
“But thank you for not having a wart on your nose,” she told the portrait. Zula heard the music on the porch begin, followed by another scream and she knew Dracula had risen from his coffin once again.

             
The rest of the night went smoothly as children came for candy and Zula handed it out liberally. After all, she wasn’t the one that would have to put up with toddlers on a sugar high. Finally, sometime around ten the trick or treating subsided and the streets were quiet once again. Now was the time Zula had been waiting for. Midnight on All Hollow’s Eve was nearly upon her.

                                                                ~ * ~

              Zula had two hours to get ready, and went about putting the candy away and turning off the lights and music. Then she went upstairs.

Slipping from the house dressed into a ceremonial robe, Zula carried a basket full of the items she needed to the backyard. She set the basket down and shed her robe, standing naked beneath the light of the full moon. A full moon on All Hollow’s Eve ensured her magic would be at its strongest and for what Zula was about to do, she needed all the magic she could get.

              As a practicing lone witch, Zula had no coven from which to draw power or assist her in casting spells, so tonight was the night she would be at her strongest. She cast the circle and stepped into it, then placed candles and bowls full of herbs and flowers in their proper position. She placed a bowl of salt water with a white seashell in the bottom on the altar. Then she placed more shells around the bottom of the bowl from right to left, and placed fragrant censors in a “V” shape to encase the bowl and shells.

             
Well aware the full moon belonged to the goddess Jana, and all matters pertaining to beginnings belong to her as well, Zula felt fortunate that all the forces had come together on this night. Raising her Athame, she held the black handle in both hands high above her head, the shiny blade pointed at the moon, and began to chant the goddess’s name over and over.

             
At first, a mere whisper. “Jana. Jana. Jana,” Zula chanted quietly, and made the motion of cutting a circle around the moon with the tip of the blade.

“Jana. Jana. Jana,
” she chanted more loudly and drew a larger circle with the Athame. “Jana. Jana. Jana.” Her voice grew as wind began to whip about, raising the herbs into a funnel shape that spun directly above the bowl.

Zula sliced the blade in a straight line downward from the moon toward the bowl holding the seashell and the water began to churn as if it were part of the sea. Little waves lapped at the edges and splashed over the edge. The blade clattered on the ground beside Zula as she stretched her arms and legs out wide, forming an “X
” with her body to receive the moon’s light.

             
A few moments later, Zula fell backward in slow motion as if held by an unseen force, and lay sprawled on the ground. Within moments she had recovered and stood. Energized by the power of the moon, Zula’s skin glowed. She recovered the Athame and held it out once again. This time, she drew the blade through the air and making an invisible five-pointed star, then drew a circle around it, making a pentagram. The candle flames leaped high into the air as the herbs and flowers continued to hold the funnel pattern above the bowl.

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