The Ghost and Silky Butterbum
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2016 by harry lime

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Sandra "Silky" Butterbum didn't know how lucky she was to have her older brother Patrick living right on the estate in a private cottage of his own. She was in a desperate state of forced denial, when he seized on the brilliant solution of having the "Ghost" of their centuries-old forebear Sir Charles visit her lonely bedroom for nocturnal festivities.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Coercion   Consensual   NonConsensual   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Ghost   Incest   Mother   Brother   Sister   Daughter   Humiliation   Light Bond   Spanking   Group Sex   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Oral Sex   Petting   Squirting   Voyeurism   Royalty   Violence  

My name is Sandra Butterbum. I have an awful of jokes at my expense about my unfortunate last name but we are an old family and I can only change it if I get married to someone with a less tease-worthy name with pompous pronunciation. Now as to my first name, I never really took to being called Sandra. Sandra sounded so boring and lacking in sexy appeal for young lads interested in the kind of girl that might entertain their foolishness. I let it be known that I wanted to be called “Silky” and spread the rumor that it was a nickname to describe the sensation of navigating my hidden female passageways in a nocturnal setting.

I knew I had won the battle when my family took to calling me by my preferred name of Silky and it was Silky from that point on.

My stuffed shirt older brother Patrick was a real prick when it came to his treatment of females. However, I had to admit he was in marvelous shape for a man of his years and my peeks at his equipment when he came out of the shower confirmed his unusual length and girth in the procreation department. Let me hasten to add that I did not feel the restraints of familial taboos in the case of Patrick because I was an adopted child selected to replace the lost daughter drowned in the fast moving river right outside the estate.

Patrick and I had a long history of brotherly/sisterly love from the time when I would play my little games on his knees and bouncing on his dangerous but well-behaved lap after dinner. I remembered with juicy passion his perching me on his shoulders so I could see the Queen when her carriage passed us on the street. I squirmed and hoped my dampness didn’t alert him to my deeply felt satisfaction just from feeling the heat of his thick neck between my legs.

In my late teens, I went through a series of “boyfriends” who were neither boys nor friends, but usually men in their thirties and even forties. Some of them had never been married and still living with their mothers, others were either divorced or widowed and still carrying the baggage of another female’s stamp of submission on their gentlemanly rumps.

I believe it was more my need for human touch rather than any foolish thought of love that drove me to give up my unwanted “cherry” and even allow the ravaging of my posterior place of entry in pretended dismay. I eventually came to value that manner of anal pounding to be my forte in matters of frenzied coupling in odd places and at odd hours usually at my personal discretion.

I guess I eventually acquired the reputation of being a bit loose and not really what one would want to take home to mama for blessings of childbearing approval.

My last boyfriend was a huge disappointment because his mother saw right through me and dismissed me out of hand. That effectively cut off any further use of her son’s delicious cock that had kept me satisfied for the better part of a year without any inclination on my part to cease the affair, even if he was bonking a little harem of maids and shop-girls on the side.

It was entirely humiliating to be told by his representative that we were finished and not to expect any offer of marriage or even a proposition of covert coupling at any opportunity. I would have settled for either, because of his expert skills in bedding females, regardless of their degree of reluctance and lack of enthusiasm.

My devoted brother’s subterfuge of pretending to be a ghost didn’t fool me for a single second. I was on to him the moment he mounted me with his silly mask and gloved hands to hide his familiar fingers. I took his full length in from the rear and reveled in pleasure as his muscular legs battered my delicate rump. He removed his gloves and manhandled my breasts much to my complete satisfaction. I couldn’t wait until he gave me the opportunity to fall to my knees and suck his manhood to my heart’s content or at least until he flooded my sinful mouth with his mature essence.

In my joy, I uttered several words of such filthy content that I hesitate to even tell you what they were. He promised me that he would take his ghostly punishment seriously as soon I finished my feminine release of orgasmic pleasure. I was secretly excited by the prospect because it had been a long time since my brother had spanked me for my silly games at his expense with my childlike amusement.

I knew he was deadly serious when he stretched me full length over his knees and my toes could barely touch the cold, unwelcome floor. The first blow from his huge paw covered both my cheeks with heavy impact and I screeched like a little banshee loosed from its hiding place. After that, I lost count as he reddened my flanks in a way that I would certainly remember for a very long time.

When he paused, I tried to reach back and sooth my scorching cheeks, but he pushed my hand away and rubbed my partially hidden little rear door entry with his thick rounded thumb pushing it inside enough to give him purchase for further entry. I knew he wanted to stretch me open for his subsequent insertion, but I was immediately fearful of damage because his man tool was of a size to strike fear even in a seasoned whore.

Sensing that my pretend ghost was in need of counsel, I handed him my jar of slippery grease on the adjacent nightstand. He looked at it in confusion for a moment, but then smiled and spread my willing cheeks to batter me up like a pancake for some depraved sport between ghost and human receptacle.

The rear entry was a bit difficult primarily because I was so nervous and fearful of the wear and tear on my rear portal. Fortunately, the grease was a minor miracle because he slid inside me like were two parts of the same animal. The grunting and groaning from the pair of us became a musical duet of kinky depravity. It hit my ears like a new tune arousing my passion and forcing me to pant like a bitch in heat seeking that perfect tingle to crown her glory.

 
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