Chapter 8

Donna’s fingers combed through my hair, moving down over my back, grasping my buttocks, even tugging me between legs that as quickly wrapped about mine.

:Oh God!: The mental voice echoed inside my head.:I’m feeling all of this!: telepathic cry “Donna?” I ventured, pulling my lips from hers. “Is this too much too fast?”

“Please, just kiss me?” she pleaded. “I’ve never been so real, or had feelings like these! I thought sex was fun sixteen or seventeen years ago, but This is all new and wonderful!”

For several passionate minutes, we settled into some serious necking, kissing, hands wandering, our hips grinding together. Donna’s heat felt as real as my aching hardness. There was no mistaking the dampness seeping through her jeans.

Both of my hands slid up her ribs, my weight supported on elbows. I cupped the pliant fullness of two very real, very substantial breasts. She groaned with delight. I squeezed and fondled. Still in jeans and T-shirt, I rocked into the gathering wetness and heat of her cradling thighs. Her breathing quickened. Our movements became frantic, then her whole body arched. Fingernails clawed into my back. She gave a wild, astonished cry, convulsing, hips thrusting hard through two layers of jeans. My erection hurt. Groin aching, crying out for release, I pulled away and rolled off. Donna gulped air, collapsing into a limp heap at my side. Amazed, I kissed a cheek damp with salty perspiration. “I don’t understand, but ghosts don’t cry or sweat,” I murmured, licking a trickle of moisture below her ear.

“Neither do ladies,” she answered primly. “We perspire.”

I reached down, cupping her groin, pressing into soaked denim. “You seem to have been perspiring a lot between your legs,” I said, chuckling. “Maybe an orgasm?”

“No shit?” she replied, managing a soft laugh. “Seems like this is a day for new experiences. First orgasm in fifteen years.” She laughed, reaching across, patting my cheek. “First time as a ghost, and we were only dry humping! Last time that happened, I was a thirteen.”

“If I ever recover, we might try with your pants off?” I suggested with a leer.

She arched her eyebrows. “Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, running her gaze down to the tent in my denims. Her hand settled there, squeezing, her mouth opening to an ‘O’. “This looks damned uncomfortable.” With a simple flick of fingers, she released the button, then pulled down my zipper. I wasn’t wearing a belt. I lifted hips. She tugged jeans and briefs down to my thighs, giving a soft, appreciative whistle as my erection sprang free. The emerald of her eyes darkening, Donna stared. “Very nice,” she said quietly, stroking a rigid curve of sensitive flesh. Her finger traced the ribbon of a pulsing, blue vein. “I’ve seen you naked, but never standing to attention. Never imagined he would get this large.” “You’ve been spying?”