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It started to drizzle outside, creating the pleasant pitter-patter sound on the windows. It was the perfect napping weather, Joey thought as she stretched her arms above her head. She was pleasantly surprised to find that one of the studies was unoccupied, and flopped herself down onto the loveseat with great relief. Who knew that being dead could be so exhausting? She laid down, sprawling across the sofa, and closed her eyes. She could hear the soothing drizzle of the rain, and smell the old wood of the study. Soon she was fast asleep, one arm draped lazily over her middle and the other supporting the crook of her neck.
Due to recent renovations taking place in the common room, the chess set had been moved temporarily to one of the attic rooms; the room which happened to be Thomas’ favorite sighing spot. How annoyed he was when on this afternoon so perfect for sighing he found the two village dunces in his place. He made an attempt to get rid of them, but Robin and Julien were stubborn and just as eager as he was to occupy their time on this rainy day.
“Fine” He gave in dramatically. “Then I shall simply find somewhere else. Somewhere better!” He added hastily.
“Yep, sure you will,” Julien muttered with a roll of his eyes. “And maybe you’ll find some shoes that don’t make you look like a leprechaun on the way” He snickered, and Robin belted out a grunting laugh.
Thomas marched away theatrically, being the half-thespian he was. Although he proclaimed himself a writer, it was simple for others to see he got more out of performing his work for an audience than actually writing it. He headed downstairs in search of a new sighing spot (preferably an unoccupied one). He had already poked his head into several dissatisfying rooms when he came across the study and, as it appeared to be empty, was eager to claim it before someone else could steal it like the attic room. He hadn’t noticed Joey because the loveseat wasn’t visible from the doorway, but once he had fully entered the room what he saw startled him.
Joey was sprawled idly on the cushions, her limbs falling gracefully across them. Her fair hair and pale skin contrasted the dark fabric of the loveseat and a faint blush was spread across her cheeks. Thomas was completely still and more silent than he had probably been in a long time (according to the other ghosts anyway). His eyes opened wide in surprise at the sleeping girl, and his mouth opened as if to utter an apology before he wisely shut it again. He knew he should leave. He knew this because he knew what was happening. His eyes were fixed to her sleeping form, studying every arch and curve, every soft line of her body. Then he felt himself stepping forward, being pulled in closer by some invisible force. He knew this was an invasion of privacy, but he just couldn’t help himself. Her pleated skirt had ridden up her legs high enough to expose the particularly delicate skin of her thighs, and Thomas shuddered at the thought of their softness.
Thomas felt himself throb against the inside of his britches. It was a guilty, pathetic ache and Thomas fidgeted uncomfortably. This was bad, he thought; he was being very bad. Nonetheless, as he traced up the gentle curve of her leg with his eyes his palm began methodically rubbing the bulge of his pants, eliciting an instant wave of relief. He had been trapped so long in that wretched house where pleasure was so scarce, it was only too tempting to have such an opportunity dangled in front of him. The pressure from his palm sent waves of satisfaction through his body. A feeling which was the closest any of the ghosts aside from Joey could experience to warmth. The observation sparked a thought in Thomas’ head, and he groaned weakly as he felt his curiosity overtake him. He closed the remaining space between him and the loveseat and crouched beside it, attempting to do so in a way which left ample room for the growing problem between his legs.
As he leaned forward, careful not to wake his object of fixation, he could feel warmth pooling all around her. It was like heaven to a soul which rarely felt any physical sensation, and it quickly became almost more than he could bear. He squeezed the inner of his thigh tightly, and inhaled deeply as though to captivate her scent as well.
Unaware, Joey dozed on peacefully, her breast falling and rising deeply in a sigh. Thomas watched every movement with utmost infatuation for the nymph and her strange powers. His breathing was heavy now and he felt true and deep desperation. More desperation than he had felt in years-decades- perhaps centuries. His gaze returned once again to her bare legs, and the seductive gap that had opened between them. Running out of patience, his finger was just about to pry open the first button of his britches when the faint sound of voices babbled from somewhere in the house. Suddenly Thomas was sobered and brought to his senses. What was he doing? What if she awoke? - which she could at any moment.
Thomas stood as quickly as he could without making any sound, and swiftly moved backward toward the door. His heart was racing with panic. He imagined someone entering the room where it was apparent that Joey was very much asleep and Thomas was very much aroused. It would be an embarrassment beyond belief. After reaching the door he cautiously eased his head out of the room to scan the hallway for any of the other ghosts. He saw not another soul in either direction -the voices must have carried from another part of the house- and he began quickly marching down the hall and away from the study. Luckily Thomas’ room was not too far and he was quickly able to merge through the door into its privacy. His dead heart somehow beat rapidly from all of the excitement, and as he attempted to catch his breath an impatient pulse throbbed through his still firm cock.
Of course, he had left the study but the image of the sleeping nymph still filled his mind. He looked down at his crotch to see a dark wet spot staining the silky fabric of his britches. He may have been embarrassed, but his mind was too cloudy to dwell on it. Right now all he wanted was to validate these desperate urges; these urges that made his legs feel all but too weak to stand. Leaning into the corner of his room Thomas pried open the buttons of his trousers and shoved aside his loin clothes, finally freeing his aching cock. The tip was swollen and pink, with a shining thread of precum still trailing from the tip to where it had been confined in his britches. Breathing shallowly, he gently rubbed the side of his thumb across his swollen tip, making it glisten with precum. Grabbing it more firmly, he shuddered and moaned softly against his bitten lip. Her legs he thought as he stroked his full length, bucking into his own hand. Her lips, her breasts. His mind reconjured her image vividly, and he had to bite his sleeve to stop from moaning out. Her legs. Thomas’ movements were erratic now, and the pleasure which had been pooling so rapidly inside of him now spilled over violently. Thomas bit back a sob as his orgasm shot through his body, and he felt his hot climax pulse out onto the back of his hand.
Thomas stood weakly, his breath uneven, and slowly tried to compose himself. He felt a bit dizzy, but immensely gratified. One satisfying thing about being a ghost was your form’s ability to right itself. By the time he had stood up straight both his loin clothes and trousers had returned to their proper place, and he watched with fascination (but mostly disgust) as the mess on his hand dissipated into the air. Now that the last waves of pleasure had left his body he admittedly felt a little guilty, and was ashamed at his own pruriency. He stood lazily slumped against the wall, his newfound clarity pricking his mind. Of course, he reasoned, there was no possibility of issuing an apology to Joey nor of confiding in anyone; there were just some things that a man took to his grave. He felt perverted, and cringed at the thought of seeing her again. Still, however, he carefully pocketed her image in his mind.