Chapter 7: The Goddess in the Tutu

Edited by Master Ken

Note: Thanks to b0b for also taking a look at this and finding some mistakes.

Tuesday, September 17th, 2013 – Paris, Texas

My pecker was still damp from Miss Cheshire's cooch as I sat invisible at one of the library's computers. The first thing I did when I entered the building was to give the hot librarian a nice tumble in the storeroom. I fucked her so hard against a shelf, a stack of books fell down on us. I kept right on plowing her cunt; no way was I going to let a few bumps and bruises stop me.

I typed in the web address: www.unearthedarcana.com. My favorite website; full of information on all things supernatural, and where I learned how to summon the Devil. I loved my wishes, loved being invisible, but there was a crucial thing I forgot to wish for—my poor pecker couldn't keep up with all the fine, young things I wanted to fuck.

I scanned the translation of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, happy to see that there were other demons I could summon. I blanched at some of the spells; Asherah required you to strangle an innocent to summon her, Dagon required drowning, and I shuddered at the price of a wish from Molech—three hundred women sacrificed to the demon per wish he granted. How could I sentence any woman to such a fate? I couldn't fuck them if they were dead.

Astarte was perfect. Her summoning was easy; I just had to fuck a girl at sunset. Astarte would possess her body until dawn, amusing herself with depraved sex. The demoness would only grant one wish, and only a small thing. Hopefully, sexual stamina was small enough.

After that, I browsed the posts on the Ghost of Paris. It was all over social media about my 'haunting' of the girl's locker room yesterday. Just thinking of those fine, young things I fucked yesterday got my dick hard again. I took one girl's virginity, then I fucked a pair of twin sisters and watched one go down on the other. And to top it off, I fucked this hot-assed Mexican chick while she made out with one of the cheerleaders.

My eyes trailed over to Miss Cheshire. The librarian was smoking hot with her tawny hair pinned up in a tight bun, and slim, silver glasses perched on a cute, freckled nose. She wore a very low-cut, red blouse. It was such a bright red your eyes couldn't help but stare at her large breasts that seemed about to fall out. She clearly wore no bra, and those melons jiggled magnificently as she walked about. And, hot-damn, that skirt was practically indecent. It barely fell below her ass. She walked over to the copier, bending over to work on it. Her skirt rode up, flashing her red panties at me, the crotch damp with our cum.

I had to have her again. I pushed the gusset of her panties to the side, and slammed into her. She moaned, throwing an appreciative glance over her shoulder, and gave her ass a wiggle. She bit her lips, and tried to look like she was servicing the machine as I plowed her. Her skirt was so short, no-one could even tell that she was getting fucked.

"Oh, baby," she moaned.

The copier rocked as I pounded her. She was juicy, still full of my first load of cum, and oh-so hot. I enjoyed the thrill of our unobtrusive fuck. A young guy walked by, headphones on his head, and sat down at one of the computers just feet away. Then an old lady hobbled by, muttering to herself. I could see a pair of college students, a fat woman, and a skinny black guy browsing the shelves, completely unaware of the nasty things I was doing to their librarian.

"Harder," she hissed. "Make me cum in front of all these fine folks!"

Miss Cheshire seemed to have turned into quite the exhibitionist slut, so I was more than happy to oblige, and I pounded the hell out of her juicy cooch. I reached around her, squeezing her full tits through her very low-cut blouse. She wore no bra, and her nipples were rock hard. My lips found her neck, sucking hard. She shuddered, gasping quietly as her pussy massaged my cock.

"That's it!" she hissed. "You fine stud!"

"Had a good cum, sweetness?"

"Umm, the best," she purred, wiggling her hips. "It is funner when there's an audience, after all."

I laughed. The old lady frowned, peering at us. I loved being invisible. Nothing was more freeing. My balls tightened. I basted Miss Cheshire's cooch like the Christmas goose, my whole body tensing with pleasure.

Breathing heavily, I pulled out and gave her ass a slap. "Well, sweetness, I'm off."

"You commin' back, Ghost?" she asked.

"Abso-damn-fuckin'-lutely, sweetness," I told her, giving her ass a pat. "You got a mighty fine cooch. How could I not want 'nother taste of your grade A cunt?"

She giggled, straightening her panties. I gave her ass another squeeze.

I had plenty of time before dusk, so I moseyed my way over to the High School—it was almost time for practice. Ursula pulled the short straw, so her and her huge melons kept me occupied beneath the bleachers while the other cheerleaders practiced. Since I popped her cherry, the little slut couldn't get enough of my pecker, and moaned and gasped as she rode me.

Around dusk, I found myself waiting at 'Beauty in Motion', the local dancing school where Darleen Cummings, the Mayor's pride and joy, took ballerina lessons. Before I had become the Ghost, I used to sit on this very bench, and watch the girls prance about through the studio's large windows. Darleen was the most beautiful creature when she danced; a fairy twirling about with white-blonde hair. She was skinny and lithe, graceful as a butterfly.

I waited for her on the hood of her daddy's Beemer. I knew from experience that she liked to dawdle, talking with the gorgeous instructor for a few minutes. The sun was sinking to the western horizon, shining into my eyes, and I was growing antsy. Where was this whore? All the other girls had left already.

I needed the uppity bitch by sunset!

Darleen stepped out around the corner, walking down the alley that ran between the dancing school and its neighbor, and led to the back parking lot where I waited. She wore white tights that clung to her slim legs, and over that she wore a black leotard and a wispy, black tutu. Her hands fished around in a purse slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a pair of keys, the car beeping beneath me as she pointed the remote.

She was so beautiful; my pecker ached to feel her cooch. The sun was red on the horizon, bathing the sky with oranges and yellows, painting her white tights with fire. I jumped off the car; she frowned as the car rocked and the shocks groaned.

"What in the blue hell," she muttered, her eyes peering at the dusty ground, at the clouds of brown kicked up by my feet as I circled her, wafting away in the slight breeze.

She turned to run; I was faster.

I caught Darleen's arm in an iron grip. Her purse dropped with a clatter as I hauled her back to me. She spun, white-blonde hair whipping about in a tight ponytail, and slapped me hard, stinging my cheek.

"Help!" she screamed. "Someone please help me!"

Cheek smarting, I grabbed her shoulders, and silenced her with a kiss, thrusting my tongue deep into her mouth. The fight went out of her now that I'd begun my molestation. That was part of my Pact; I'd wished that any girl I molested while invisible would enjoy it. She melted, kissing me back with the wild passion of a bobcat, and raked my arms and chest with her nails.