Chapter 1

I’m a ghost of a woman who was a wife and mother who happened to enjoy the attention of both. I don’t know my name, but I do know I wanted to get pregnant by my son and it never happened. My husband rather enjoyed watching us fuck as he desired the same thing and now he was almost as disappointed as I was.

I’ve no idea as to the reason for remembering some details of my life, like the threesomes with the two of them, but I’ve long since resigned myself to this truth. I don’t even know how I died and have no memory of anything, which leads me to wonder about all sorts of sordid things. My favorite is getting fucked to death by my son, since that’s one of the more pleasant ways to cast off my physical body.

Being a ghost is frustrating, since I can remember all the pleasures of life without actually being able to do a fucking thing about them. Without a physical form, I cannot even see myself, let alone touch myself. I’m stuck waiting for someone to move into the old farm and the moments in between are eternities.

I’ve never seen another ghost here and don’t know why. It seems like this old farm should be filled with them, but perhaps there are others here. I don’t fully understand all the rules and maybe we just can’t see each other. Company between moments would be nice.

During those precious moments of life, I can only possess one person and it has to be a woman. There have been the occasional times when only men lived here and I wanted to scream out to the heavens, but they never lasted long and I was fine with that. It probably had something to do with the occasional temper tantrum that interfered with their lives.

I’ve been the mother a few times, but never actually gotten pregnant and I do wish they all would have stayed a little longer. I still believe one more try would have succeeded with any of them. There was one woman whose son had an amazing ability to stay hard for a long time and we both enjoyed his dick. Granted, she didn’t enjoy it at first, but she came around just like all the others.

I have gotten pregnant once that I can recall, and it was by inhabiting a woman who was both a daughter and sister to a brother. If I had lips, I would still grin at the thought of never knowing whose child it was. When you’re fucking both all the time, it can be difficult to tell and I wish they would have stayed forever, from one generation to the next. It was the Great War that called the son away and the parents could not manage the farm without him.

I see dust on the road and excitedly move to the top of the house to watch. There have been a few people to look at the property and I hope this means someone’s finally moving in. It’s been far too long since I had company and in desperate need of feeling the pleasures that a ghost is denied.