It's great feeling to be living in your first house as a married couple. Even though we were only renting, Lori and I were proud of our tiny yard, our kitchen with the leaky faucet and the floor board in the study that creaked. We had been married for three years, living in noisy apartments the entire time. Renting this isolated house in the country for such a cheap rate was a dream come true. But I'm not so certain if we would have still rented it if we knew it was haunted.

We had been settled in for just under a week when the first occurrence began. I was stepping out of my morning shower, a bit proud that my hot water lasted longer than any puny apartment water heater. The walls sparkled brightly from the exhaustive cleaning we had done yesterday. The steam made it impossible for me to wear my glasses, so it took me a few minutes to find my towel in the unfamiliar bathroom. When I did find my towel, I was stretching out of the tub, bent over slightly. Imagine my surprise to feel a hand moving down my back.

Instead of jumping, I froze. It would be nice to say I was standing still out of curiosity but it was out of stark terror. I felt the distinct touch of fingertips gliding over the wet muscles of my back. When the fingertips reached the top of my buttocks, I felt the firmness of a palm. The palm moved down and gave me a delicate squeeze on the curve of my ass. That was when I jumped out of the shower and yelled for my Lori.

"What's wrong Eddie?" she asked. "You can't find the washcloths again?"

"No, " I answered her a bit sharply. "I thought I felt something on my back."

Her eyes immediately widened in fear. "It wasn't a bug, was it?"

At that point I felt a little weird telling my wife I was groped in the shower. Knowing Lori, she would suspect that I was trying to get some sex before work. I latched on to her bug fear in order to get myself out of my situation.

"No, I immediately wiped my back when I felt it," I lied. "You know, I bet it was just water and I over reacted."

That got me a kiss and a sigh from my wife. She shook her head and muttered something about jumpy husbands as she left. After she was gone, I continued to dry myself off. I was almost calm again and ready to go to breakfast when I noticed a shape in the mirror. Looking closer, I noticed that the steam covered glass had a small shape where someone or something had touched it. I ran out of the bathroom, quickly got dressed and left for work, skipping breakfast. No matter how hard I tried to immerse myself in work, I couldn't forget the shape on the mirror.

It was the outline of lips, shaped like a woman had kissed the glass.

I returned home reluctantly, years of reading pulp ghost stories making it hard to step back in the house. Lori greeted me at the door and I think she was a bit curious as to why I held her hand when I walked in. I stayed by her constantly for the rest of the night. Even during her terrible network television shows, I was sitting right there on the couch beside her. Lori never asked why I stayed so close to her, nor did she seem to mind my constant touching. Normally she doesn't like being that smothered, but for some reason she didn't mind that night.

We went to bed early, Lori breaking tradition by not even reading for an hour before sleeping. I cuddled up with her petite body and buried my face in her soft red hair. Having a wife means you always have a security blanket in the dark of the night. Sleep came mercifully as my worn out nerves relaxed.

My dreams were filled with leering monsters and odd shapes in mirrors. There was also an element of the erotic in my dreams, images of feminine hands and wispy long hair. I don't remember any plots my dreams may have had, but I awoke with a distinct feeling of dread and lust.

The dread quickly faded as I realized my wife was sucking on my cock. My underwear had been removed, which is a neat trick to do to a man while he sleeps. My eyes were still closed but I was fully awake. I didn't question why Lori was giving me a midnight blowjob, but since she would do so every once in a while, I wasn't alarmed. Thoughts of phantom molesters were banished by the soft suckling of my manhood.

The covers were still on me so I thought Lori must have burrowed underneath the blanket. I decided to not let her know I was awake, it was a game we played, and one I loved. Her fist was wrapped around my cock, stroking me while her lips covered my tip. The wonderful texture of her hair rubbed my thighs as she moved her head up and down on my cock. I peeked briefly and saw Lori's outline under the blankets as she sucked my hardness. It was fun for me to match the shape under the blanket with the pleasures I was enjoying. I could see her arm move as she pumped my cock. Her head was right above my crotch, waiting for me to ejaculate myself into her. In the moonlight I could make out the shape of her buttocks as she sat on her knees, giving me oral joy.

For a long time, I laid back quietly while Lori's fingers stroked my cock up and down. I could feel the tip of my cock pooping in and out of her lips. The repeated penetration was an incredible turn on. Sounds of my cock entering her wet mouth under the blanket were loud enough for even me to hear. Every once in a while, Lori would lick her fingers, and then the stroking would have a delicious slippery to them. Half awake as I was, I decided to buy my wife a new piece of jewelry in the morning. Anything to make sure this becomes a repeat performance.

Lori surprised me with her next move, her hand moved away and her lips sunk past my tip and down the entire seven inches of my cock. Never has Lori been able to get more than an inch or two of me into her mouth, and the sensation was incredible. The length of her tongue was licking me, while her lips were sucking at the base of my cock. I reached over the covers and gripped her head underneath the blanket. As I felt her head under my hands rise up and down, I arched my back and shot a large stream into her warm mouth.

Afterglow was a wonderful moment of bliss. I felt Lori move out from under the covers, and I waited for her to get beside me. I waited for a minute, maybe more, it's hard to tell when your orgasm clouds your mind. Eventually, I got curious as to where she was and sat up. The bedroom was empty, and the door had never opened.

I didn't panic right away, I felt too good to panic. The idea that it was all a wet dream was considered. After checking my shrinking penis and the sheets, I couldn't find any semen. I thought maybe I didn't orgasm, but the sensitivity of my cock put an end to that line of reasoning. I searched the room, even checking the closet, but couldn't find Lori, not even under the bed. My underwear was on the nightstand, folded up even. that was when I started yelling for Lori and got back in bed, pulling up the covers.

Yelling in the middle of the night for my wife made me feel a bit silly, but yell for ten minutes I did. It's amazing how denial works it's magic as time goes by. I had almost made myself believe it was a strange dream when I heard the study door open and close. A short run of steps brought Lori to the bedroom. She was wearing her green nightgown I bought her for Christmas as well as carrying her book.

"I'm right here," she said breathlessly, "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to disturb you. So I went to read in the study."

"That's all right," I answered, although curious as to why she was so defensive. "I just umm, had a bad dream and I wasn't sure where you were. I feel a bit dumb now, but you know how it is when you first wake up."

"That's okay," my lovely wife said, climbing into bed with me. "I'm done reading now, so let's just back to sleep."

We hugged then, a bit tighter than usual. I made a mental note to myself to relax tomorrow, and see if a quiet Saturday couldn't calm my nerves. I also hoped I would remember to check the heating in the morning. My wife's nipples were as hard as pebbles when we embraced. The poor girl must have been freezing in that study.

Saturday morning finally came, and I awoke with a new attitude. I skipped my morning shower, which was a good thing because Lori nearly killed an hour in there. I swear sometimes I don't know what she does in there.

The lawn was all I cared about that morning. It had been years since I had cut the grass, and I was eager to try out my lawnmower. Not because I like yard work or anything, but just because it was my yard. Georgia gets pretty hot in the morning and today was no exception. The heat cascaded from the clouds and slowly roasted me that morning. The strangeness of the previous night was sweat out of me drop by drop. Hard to dwell on mysterious blowjobs when your glasses are fogging from pure heat.

A glass of lemonade was waiting for me on the porch table. I drank it much too quickly, for it was too good to sip. After I finished the first glass, I returned to work, this time clipping the few hedges we had. Another glass was waiting when I finished that chore. A third glass was on the porch when I set up the bird feeder. It might seem like a cliche to drink lemonade on a hot southern day, but I now I appreciated it immensely. I went inside to thank my thoughtful wife.

"Thank you Lori for the lemonade," I said as I kicked off my shoes.

"Very funny," my wife said dryly. "If you wanted some, you could have just asked and I would have made some."

At that point I dropped the subject. I had spent a great morning on my yard and I didn't want weirdness to spoil it. I reminded myself that I suffered a heat stroke when I was seventeen and in that instance I imagined the Judds were washing my car. Obviously I had experienced another heat induced hallucination and shouldn't dwell on it. What I needed was a cool shower.

So I took a very fast shower, with my back to the wall the entire time. Nothing happened during or after the shower so it looked like my theory of heat hallucinations might be valid. Even still, I avoided looking at the mirror.

The rest of the morning with Lori. I tried to see if she wanted to go to town, or maybe even a long drive, but she wasn't interested. After a while she started suggesting that I go for a ride by myself. One thing marriage gives you is the ability to take a hint. Lori's patience was dwindling so I decided to go to the study and do some reading. Lori was even kind enough to make me a few sandwiches and a drink so I would be comfortable there for a few hours. It felt a lot like being banished to my room, but I didn't mind. It was better than us fighting.

Our study was our pride and joy. When two avid readers combine their book collections, it looks and feels like a library. The shelves were made of a sturdy oak, and had a warm cozy brown look to them. We had bought them from a closing used book store and filled every one of them. On top of the bookshelves were our collected figurines. The dragons, unicorns, bears and witches were Lori's, while the fairies, rabbits and mermaids were mine. My wife's fantasy art hung on the little wall space we had left, giving the room some much needed color. Two worn yet comfortable recliners sat in the center of the room, and I choose the faded green one to spend my afternoon with.

I decided to pass on the collection of Hugh B. Cave stories that I was reading. I felt like I was living a ghost story, why read about one? Much for the same reasons I decided to pass on Lovecraft, Bloch and Machen. In fact, almost all of my books were some sort of fantasy or horror, which did nothing to relax me. So I grabbed a random book from my wife's books and settled down to read about some girl and her psychic horse. My wife was playing some very loud music in the living room, but since I had the door shut It didn't bother me. I leaned back in my recliner and started on the book. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad.

About halfway through the book, and after I finished my two sandwiches, the most bizarre thing occurred. A pressure was placed against my lips, soft and yielding My mouth opened in surprise and the unmistakable touch of a nipple came into my mouth. When my lips closed around it, there was the soft give of flesh. It was strange to roll an unseen nipple between my teeth, but the oddity of the situation had me snared. I sat there for a moment, tasting the distinctly salty tit, feeling the rest of the breast pressing against my face and trying to reach with my hands for any other part of my ghost's body. My hands couldn't find anything, except for the contour of the breast in my mouth. It was too weird for me to panic, I was mostly in a state of shock.

Right as the immaterial tit was hardening in my mouth, it was gone. I sat there, alone, in my recliner, my wife's music still blasting from the living room. My erection was an embarrassing reminder of my ghostly encounter, and I was relieved that the door was closed. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair a bit, and then decided that this whole situation was ridiculous. There I was, hoping my wife wouldn't catch me with a woman I couldn't even proved existed. It was past time to do a little investigating.

I startled my wife when I came out of the study. Lori jumped off the couch and asked me briskly what I was doing. Apparently my jumpy nerves were rubbing off on her. I told her I was restless and wanted to do some driving. Lori happily sent me off, giving me a quick kiss before stuffing the keys in my hand. I drove off to town, intent on learning what I could about the former owners of the house.

My inquires at the rental office came to nothing. The skittish man working there wouldn't even give me the name of the people we were renting from. A trip to the library was next, I was hoping to dig through old newspapers like my favorite fictional heroes tended to do during a big case. I found out very quickly that such searching was tedious, dull and quite slow. The librarian tried to be helpful till I told her what I was looking for. When she heard that I needed to know if anyone died in the house I was renting, she avoided me for the rest of the day. I left when the security guard began watching me from across the room.

Success came at City Hall, my last hope for information. I explained to Mrs. Abrams, the little white haired lady that worked there, that I needed to know about the past occupants who lived on my property. Keeping in mind that the librarian freaked at my request, I decided to sugar coat my story for Mrs. Abrams. I told her that I was curious about the people who lived at my house before me because I had found quite a few items in the attic. My story included vague descriptions of semi valuable antiques that might belong to someone or their relatives. Appealing to the elderly southern woman's sense of respect was the right thing to do. Within minutes I had a stack of papers to sort, as well as the woman's own memories and personal opinions. This was how I discovered my mystery lover's possible name.

The papers listed a Leonard Stroud as the former resident, and placed his death at about six years ago. Mrs. Abrams was nosy enough to relate that Leonard lived there for thirty years, and that he was something of a lady's man. Just as I was beginning to fear a homosexual spirit, Mrs. Abrams explained that Leonard's sister also lived with him. Town gossip had figured the sister as something of a slut, since she dated often but never married. Leonard wasn't the marrying kind either, happy enough to live with his sister. I asked my research partner if she knew the name of the sister, which being a small town, Mrs. Abrams easily remembered the name of the town bimbo. Her name was Tammy.