Ghost Girl Ranch
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 10
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 10 - A tale of a ghostly visitation, paranormal rescue, romance, sex and healing. A severely damaged Afghan vet, Daniel has purchased a foreclosed ranch in Montana, hoping to retire in seclusion. As the old ranch house is being renovated, he experiences hints of ghostly activity. A few months on, he also gets into a bar fight in the nearby town, becoming the murderous focus of a psycho county deputy.
Caution: This Supernatural Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Paranormal Ghost Magic
By Friday afternoon, I was dripping with sweat. Stripped to the waist, wearing only cut-offs and work boots, I’d been clearing the yard. Now, I was using a squeaky wheelbarrow to cart off and heap up burnable junk. After a call to town, a tractor trailer had loaded and hauled away rusted cars, an ancient tractor and rusted farm equipment. Halfway between house and pond, I’d already heaped up a huge burn pile. Branches, leaves, twigs and cuttings were mixed with weathered lumber...
Donna kept appearing, weeding beds of flowers in shady patches, cleaning up the stone circles around the base of both spruce trees.
On returning to the house, I was distracted by a bronze and gold bikini. The scraps of cloth were scandalous, concealing little, enhancing much. It wasn’t the conjured bikini of the previous day. Not surprisingly, she had a perfect, golden tan. After spreading a blanket next to one stone circle, she brought out a pitcher of sweet, iced lemonade and two frosty glasses. She struck a pose, giving me an unmistakeable, very insistent come-hither look. I came, settling, intending to take a short break. Surprising me yet again, Donna sipped lemonade, somehow making the liquid vanish. When she finally stretched out on the blanket, I couldn’t help but stare at her body. Like the lemonade, she was a tall, cool drink and completely entrancing. After finishing one refreshing glass, I found it impossible to relax. I curled at her side and kissed her. Strangely, any sexual urges seemed absent. Warm, full lips responded tenderly. Once again without passion, our kisses expressed wonder and love. We necked. Like our kiss on the porch the previous day, there was no fire. Her presence didn’t kindle a raging sexual need. We simply became lost in the closeness, once again experiencing that mystical, bonding communion. She feathered kisses over my face and mouth. I stroked her hair as we shared warm breaths, tasting and discovering each other, the wonder all seeming new and fresh. Slowly and softly, I stroked her face. Once again, I marveled at the texture of her cheeks and ears, the satin perfection of her skin, the intoxicating scent of expensive perfume. She unclipped the ponytail, fanning hair out over the blanket in a breathtaking curtain. I combed fingers through the abundant fall of butterscotch hair. My lips brushed over fluttering lashes, over sharply arched cheekbones, returning to her seductive mouth and the inviting smile. Over and over, I suckled her bottom lip, swept my tongue into her mouth. Lost in each moment, I felt enraptured. She kissed me in turn, lips mobile, making love to my facial scars and eyes without revulsion. She kissed a track down the damaged left side of my neck, then up the other. There was no clear moment when tenderness shifted to passion. As before, time seemed to slip away. Over and over, slowly and sweetly, our lips met. Our tongues made languorous explorations, hers teasing along my scars. I tasted, inhaling her special fragrance. Each kiss was sensitive to our shared adoration. She had become my total focus. She was real, beautiful, and the enfolding love that had already brought me an unexpected peace and profound measure of healing.
Gradually, inevitably, light strokes and kisses went beyond simple wonder. Our touches became erotic, stirring wants, sparking desire and heat. With shared awareness, we melted into each other, satisfying each other with more and more intimate touching and caresses. The play of tongues aroused and promised more. My hands began to wander, then her fingers were touching and caressing me. The quickening dance of fingers and lips were accompanied by ragged breaths and humming gasps of pleasure. Incredibly responsive, Donna stroked between us, arousing me even more. Her other hand was at my back, pulling my bare, sweaty chest tight against the swell of her firm breasts. My right hand slid over ribs, circling and teasing, inching towards one of the bikini cups. She giggled and twisted to give me easier access, encouraging my touch. I pushed up the clinging fabric and captured the hot, heavy fullness of her breast. She gasped as my thumb flicked a nipple that was already turgid, swollen to hard, delicious sensitivity.
As on that afternoon before the sheriff’s visit, time seemed to be suspended. That evening, after the lawman was gone, Donna had broiled me a steak, mixed up a salad and baked a potato. She didn’t try eating, satisfied to just sip coffee. As night fell, she led me into the bathroom. There, she disappeared the shorts and halter top while removing my clothes. After showering together, we slipped into bed. Slowly and sweetly, unhurried and lost in the wonder of loving, our bodies merged in that ancient dance. Over and over, we made love, oblivious to the hours. Finally satiated and exhausted, I slept.
Now, out in sunlight, after another morning of hard, sweaty labour, I wanted her again, this time, beneath the huge blue spruce her great grandfather had lovingly planted for his wife.
At first, I wasn’t certain that I’d heard a quiet cough. The nervous clearing of a throat finally sank into awareness. I blinked, peeling my lips from Donna’s. She quickly tugged down cups of her bikini top. I rolled off, squinting up into sunlight. I was surprised that we were no longer in the shade. More than an hour had passed and the sun was westering. Though it was clear what we had been about, fortunately our loving hadn’t progressed further. Both of us sat up. I shaded my eyes, blinking again, focusing, staring up at an old man. His white hair had been woven into very long, twin braids decorated with raven feathers. No more than ten yards away, he sat a large, mottled white appaloosa. He was staring at us, black eyes wide in rapt fascination. His gaze shifted from me to Donna. He, blinked rapidly, eyes narrowing. “Are you ghosts?” he asked, saying something else in a language I didn’t understand.
Donna answered in the same language, then said pleasantly, “greetings, Charlie Wind eagle. I’m the only ghost here, though I do seem to be rather solid at the moment.”
“Donna! Child!” he said in a raspy, strained voice. “You haven’t changed, and you still remember the Apsáalooke words!”
She slowly rose to her feet, hands flicking in rapid signs. She gave a solemn nod. “I have also learned from your ancestors. Some of the old ones still ride through these mountains. She made a gesture towards me. Wind eagle, this is Daniel. Unlike me, he’s alive.”
“There is a bright light about the two of you,” said the old man. “Almost like looking into the sun, or a blazing fire.” He dropped reins, sliding from the saddle, one hand tightly gripping the pommel for support. “Child, where did you go? What happened to you? Your parents!”
“All is well with my parents,” she said, speaking with gentle affection. “I helped them pass into the realm of light. I have been there for others, like White Fawn, your first wife. The Great Spirit and Earth Mother willing, I will be there to ease your passing when you are called, my old friend.” She paused for long seconds, seeming to wrap herself in dignity, looking regal despite only wearing a bikini. She let the aged Crow absorb her words. “I was abducted by a twisted man. Haskins abused and killed me. He could not destroy my spirit. On Monday, with three other girls he murdered, we returned the favour. His spirit was sent wailing into a pit of blackness from which there is no return.”
“Him!” Charlie Wind Eagle gasped, eyes going huge. “Shit! I heard!”
Donna gave a slow nod. “It has taken me years to learn Apsáalooke secrets, and mysteries of the spirit realm, but now I am able to manifest. That piece of filth was planning to murder this man I love. Instead, we brought about his destruction.”
“Love?” Halfway to us, Charlie Wind Eagle stopped, hands gesturing, then both dropped. His wizened face showed even more wrinkles. He shook his head. “Truly, you are not ... not alive?” he asked with sincere wonder.
“What is death?” Donna replied, giving a shrug. “My being straddles two realms.” She gave another shrug, then grabbed my hand, tugging me to my feet. “Daniel is a child of the light. He provides that which gives me substance. He gives me power.” She crossed to the old man, dropped my hand and embraced him. When she stepped back, she wrinkled her nose at him. “You still smoke too much! Your clothes stink like an ashtray!”
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