Full-Bodied Apparition

"Ghosts do exist, Jer. Besides, it'll be fun even if we don't experience anything paranormal."

"It'll be cold and miserable, and we'll be stuck with a bunch of ghost hunting weirdos..."

"I'll give you a blowie if you take us. In fact, I'll give you one now and one afterward."

The rest of what Jeremy planned to say left his mind in a rush as her offer infused every corner of his brain with excited thoughts and filled his penis with enough blood to bring it to half-mast.

"You're gonna swallow a fly if you stand there gaping at me like that," Emily giggled a few seconds later when he failed to speak again.

"Are you serious?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Yep."

"Fuck..."

"No, blowjob only. Well, blowjobs, that is."

"Fuck..."

"Jer..."

"In the shower?"

Jeremy watched his ex's eyes, and for a moment he thought she might refuse. But with a nod and a grin, she accepted. And that proved to him how serious she was. When they had been together, she only allowed him to ejaculate on her face when they were in the shower, and agreeing to it now meant she also agreed to let him give her a facial.

"Fuck..." he repeated a third time, grabbing his ex's hand and pulling her toward the bathroom.

"I think the word you want is 'suck'," Emily snickered, offering no resistance.

* * *

"No touching below the waist... well, no touching me below my waist," Emily informed him as she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the tile floor, grabbing her small but shapely breast in her hands and squeezing them. "But these are fair game."

Jeremy nodded, knowing he had a huge, stupid grin on his face and not caring. Emily's firm, sensitive breasts were a little bit less than a handful, but he loved them. Loved the small, tan areolas and firm, little nipples; loved the light freckles that covered the inner sides and the valley between them; loved the way goosebumps rose on her smooth skin when he nibbled her firm little nubs; loved the moans that escaped her throat when licked and sucked and took as much of the rounded mass into his mouth as he could. He loved everything about her breasts, and he told her so as he brought his mouth to one.

"Yeah, I know you do," the girl sighed, running her hands through his short, brown hair while he pulled at one rigid nipple with his teeth. "And you love my mouth too."

"Fuck yeah," he agreed, moving his lips to the other tasty little nub.

"So, we should start the shower," Emily suggested, and he thought he heard laughter in her voice.

Jeremy reached past the shower curtain and turned the faucet to warm, his eyes never leaving Emily's, which sparkled with mischief and maybe, just maybe, lust. Taking a chance, the young man leaned in to kiss her, but a small palm stopped him.

"None of that, Jer. We wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea. This is, um, casual only."

"Of course," Jeremy mumbled, warmth spreading through his cheeks at his stupidity.

Emily smiled, patted his arm, and slipped her panties off. Jeremy noted that her bush was neatly trimmed, not shaved as it had been before, then her back was to him as she looked into the shower.

"I'll need two towels," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "One to kneel on and one for after."

"Um, sure. I'll be right back."

"And you'll need to take your clothes off too," Jeremy's ex grinned, her eyes locked on where his erection pushed against his jeans.

He did not bother to reply as he rushed from the bathroom to the linen closet at the end of the short hallway. When he returned with the towels, Emily was in the shower. Jeremy tossed the towels over the shower rod and stripped off his clothes as fast as he could, almost falling twice in the process.

"Nice of you to finally join me," Emily said when he climbed in. Her shoulder-length hair, a few shades darker when wet than dry, clung to her cute, smiling face. Jeremy wanted nothing more than to crush his former girlfriend to him and kiss her inviting lips. But instead, he pulled one of the towels off the curtain rod and handed it to her.

"Right to business then," the petite young woman chuckled. "But we need to change spots. I can't do this with the water beating down on me the whole time.

Jeremy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. For a moment, they were face to face, pressed up against each other as they passed, and the urge to kiss her grew almost too much to bear. But then it was over, and he stood in front of her, the hot water pounding his back and shoulders as she placed the folded towel on the tub floor.

"This looks as nice as always," she broke the silence, a small, soft hand stroking his hard shaft. "And this looks good too. You've added some muscle."

Emily's lips on his chest ignited his skin and his passion. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back and leaned down, lips mashing against hers. For a second, then two, she stood rigid, tense, a hand on his chest. But in an instant, everything about her softened, and she gave herself to his arms while her tongue pushed past his lips.

"You're a bad boy, Jer," she told him when the kiss broke, but he saw no reproach in her eyes. "But that doesn't change anything. This is still casual."

"Sure," Jeremy nodded, but he did not think his tone convinced her any more than it did him.

With a small shake of her head, Emily kissed his chest again, which was just at the right height for her, as she stood nearly a foot shorter than his six-foot frame. Then she kissed his abdomen before crouching and licking her way over his belly button and down to his pubic hair.

"You ever think you'd see me like this again?" she asked him, her brown eyes locked on his gray ones.

"No."

"That makes two of us," Emily giggled, settling onto her knees while never breaking eye contact.

"More sucking and less talking," Jeremy suggested, the sight of Emily on her knees with his manhood in hand bolstering his confidence.

"Rude," the girl said, mock horror on her face but that mischievous look still in her eyes.

"Fuck, are you ever going to stop talking..."

Soft lips, wet and warm, engulfed the tip of Jeremy's shaft, and the rest of his words turned to a gasp followed by a low groan. Emily never disappointed when it came to giving head, and it felt like she might have even been putting a little something extra in it this time. His ex's tongue swirled around the sensitive glans of his penis, then wiggled against the underside of his shaft as she slid her lips about halfway down his length.

"So fucking good," he moaned, fingers laced in Emily's wet hair. "Better than I rememb... oh, fuck!"

The sandy-haired girl, eyes unwavering, forced herself to take in more of him. For a moment that seemed an eternity, he felt the tip of his erection pushing against the back of her throat. But before it could go in, Emily gagged around him, backing off so that only the head was inside her warm mouth. Despite the setback, the kneeling girl never stopped sucking.

"Keep that up, and I'm going to be coming in no time," Jeremy said, not sure whether he wanted her to continue or to slow down.

Emily winked and maybe smiled around his thickness. Jeremy wondered what that meant, but his ex did not let him think about it too long. By the time he drew another breath, his erection again pushed against the back of her throat. This time, she did not gag as soon. And when she pulled back, it was maybe an inch at most.

"Are you trying to deepthroat?" he managed to ask through quick, short breaths.

The girl shook her head 'no', sending maddening and exhilarating tingles through his sensitive flesh. And then with another wink, she gagged herself on him a third time. That was too much for Jeremy. Tightening his fingers in her hair, he pumped in and out of her mouth a few times. And while he did so, Emily's lips applied suction and her tongue worked its magic.

"I'm going to come," Jeremy rasped seconds later.

His ex heeded his warning, letting his manhood fall from her lips as she sat back on her heels, staring up at him with an expression he thought indicated anticipation. Jeremy sighed, stroked his erection, and aimed at Emily's cute, sexy, grinning face. And that grin remained, even after he shot several spurts of semen onto her forehead, nose, lips, and chin.

Virginia City, Nevada

October 31, 2019

"It's as cold as Dante's lower rings of hell our here," Mandy grumbled, pulling her coat tighter around her.

"It's invigorating," Emily laughed, bundled up in a long, dark blue coat that fell almost to her knees.

"I agree with Mandy," Jeremy said, noting that his ex seemed almost beside herself with excitement.

"Just think about the hot shower you'll get when we're back at the hotel later," Emily said in a low voice, although he thought it was still loud enough for Mandy to hear.

Jeremy grunted and nodded, although in truth, he did not know what to expect. They had all three decided to share a hotel room in Reno rather than drive back over the Sierras after midnight. But even though Mandy would be there with them, Emily had kept up the hints that his second reward for agreeing to this trip would be coming that night. Part of him wondered if that reward might be better than he ever dreamed, wondered if maybe Mandy would join in with them. But most of him believed that Emily was just being a tease and that the second blowjob would not happen until after they returned home.

"Yeah, that's what I could use right about now," Mandy said, pulling a stocking cap over her short, spikey, purple hair.

"God, you're both crybabies," Emily scoffed. "The saloon is the next door down. It'll be warm inside."

Neither Jeremy nor Mandy answered, although Jeremy saw Mandy roll her eyes.

"I thought you wanted to do this," he whispered to the taller girl after Emily entered the saloon.

"Not when it's so fucking cold," Mandy snarled. "Only Emily would think this was a good idea."

Jeremy nodded, basking in the comparative warmth of the saloon as they followed Emily to the back of the building then up a flight of stairs. But they were both proven wrong when they walked into what looked like a tiny chapel. At least twenty other people, all engulfed in heavy coats, sat in the wooden pews. Emily, Mandy, and Jeremy squeezed into the only one that looked like it had enough room for three more people.

"That should be everyone," a thin woman said from the front of the chapel. "Let's get started. My name is Celina Holcomb, and I'm the operator of Dark Spirits."

Around fifty and on the taller side, Holcomb let her words linger as she looked at each person in the room. When her gaze settled on Jeremy, he shivered under its intensity. This woman was a true believer, of that he was sure.

"Tonight is a very special night. On All Hallows' Eve, the barriers between our world and the spirit realm lower, allowing the souls of the departed to return to the land of the living, to manifest more fully than at any other time of the year. And so, for those of you brave enough to accompany us tonight on this great adventure, this may be your best chance to interact with those who have passed on. Virginia City is full of the restless specters, and tonight is their night!"

For several seconds, no one in the room said anything. But just as the silence threatened to become overwhelming, a younger, thicker version of their host moved beside Holcomb and spoke.

"Mother has a flair for the dramatic," the younger woman laughed, and Jeremy felt the tenseness drain from the room. "Although, it is true that Virginia City is one of the most haunted towns in the world. And you'll have your opportunity to hunt some of those haunts tonight. But first, we're going to go on a tour of the sites you'll be investigating later. I'm Tabitha Holcomb, and I'll be your guide."

"When you're done with the tour, you'll all return here. We'll break you up into pairs, give you the equipment you need, and show you how to use it," Celina Holcomb took up when her daughter finished. "After that, each pair will return to one of the haunted locations that Tabitha is about to show you."

* * *

Through a back exit on the second story of the saloon, their guide led them out onto B Street, which was just up the hill from C street, the main street of the old mining town. The first six locations on the tour were all on B Street, and the walking was easy. But the seventh stop required them to climb a steep hill past Piper's Opera House and up Union Street (a glorified gravel path) toward A Street. The climb turned out to be more challenging than many of the want-to-be ghost hunters seemed to be expecting. Several members of the group were breathing hard by the time they reached the intersection of Union Street and A Street.

"We'll take a short rest here, then continue up that alley beside the Cobb mansion. Our next destination is just on the other side of Howard Street."

"We have to go up more?" a large woman asked, her face red and damp.

"And through that dark alley?" the man with her added, giving her a supporting hand as she tried to catch her breath.

"We would have to walk down the street and then back up the next street if we did not go through the alley," Tabitha smiled. "Just follow my light, and we'll all be fine."

"At least I'm warmer now," Mandy whispered to Emily and Jeremy.

Emily nodded, but Jeremy said nothing as he stared up the sloping alleyway. It did not appear to be as far a walk as it had been from B Street to A Street. But it looked just as steep, and he was already sweating underneath the layers of his sweatshirt, vest, and coat. Hypothermia, something that had not even entered his mind an hour earlier, loomed as a distinct possibility.

"I think we can press on now," the guide announced maybe a couple of minutes later. A low grumbling arose among the group, but everyone followed her up the alley, led by a taller than average young woman who Jeremy had not noticed before. Long dark hair hung straight down her back, almost falling to her well-rounded bottom, which a tight pair of black yoga pants clung to like a second skin. A fitted black coat and black shearling boots completed her outfit.

How did I miss her? Jeremy asked himself, pondering whether the mystery woman's frontside was as voluptuous as her backside.

"Ok, just across Howard Street now," Tabitha called down to the strung-out group as she opened a wooden gate at the end of the alley and stepped onto a paved street.

"You're effing kidding me," the portly woman complained from where she and her partner brought of the rear, about halfway up the slope.

"Just a bit further," the guide assured them. "Well, the actual site is a little up the hill behind that yellow house, but we're not going up that far, since there's no a path."

"Thank god," Mandy sighed, following Emily through the gate. Jeremy agreed silently, looking back at the stragglers and hoping he did not have to give the fat woman mouth-to-mouth if she collapsed.

"Okay everyone, gather around me," Tabitha urged them. The tour guide stood in front of a two-car garage right off the street. Behind it and to the left was the small yellow house. Jeremy wondered what could have happened here that would be important enough to force a bunch of people, who all paid good money to be here, to make a death march up several hundred feet of slope. But then the dark-haired woman turned toward him, and his discontent melted away.

She might not have been the prettiest woman he had ever seen, but at the moment, he could not think of who would take that honor. Her straight hair, which he now saw was nearly as black as her clothes, framed a perfectly symmetrical face. Full, lush lips, dark red against white flesh, pouted slightly as her periwinkle blue eyes met his. Jeremy forgot to breathe for a moment as he took all of her in, from her smooth forehead above those startling blue eyes to her thin, turned-up nose and high cheekbones, past plump lips and a fine, slightly pointed chin, down a graceful, pale neck, and finally to the expanse of her bosom, which stood prominent despite the tight, black coat that covered it.

"Who the fuck is that?" Emily hissed in his ear, and he saw her gaze fixed on the same young woman.

"Some bimbo," Mandy shrugged. "Who gives a shit?"

"Whatever," Emily replied, but her eyes met Jeremy's for a moment, and he thought he saw anger and maybe jealousy in them. Had she caught him staring at the woman? And what would that matter if she did? Emily had made it clear to him, both before and after the blowjob in the shower, that whatever they might do together was just casual, at least to her.

"Everyone here?" Tabitha asked, and Jeremy forced his attention back to the tour guide. "Good. Before this garage was here, a path ran between the yellow house you see and a house beside it that is no longer there. Behind the yellow house, there used to be a woodshed. That woodshed was the site of a grisly double murder in September of 1869, one hundred and fifty years ago. A dance hall girl named Honor Quinn, an Irish immigrant, was caught by her husband with a patron of the saloon where she worked. Now, Honor was not just a dancing girl. She was a shady lady, a prostitute, and the saloon patron was her customer. His name was Carlton Stokes, and he had been a major in the Army of Northern Virginia during the Civil War. Major Stokes carried a revolver, which Honor and her husband, a gambler and pimp named August Stanton, learned with tragic results. According to Stokes, Honor lured him up to the woodshed, and then Stanton attacked him from behind, hitting him in the head with an iron fireplace poker, after which the couple attempted to rob him. But Stokes recovered faster than they expected, and he shot them both."

Tabitha paused for a moment, her eyes traveling around the group. Jeremy followed her gaze and noted that everyone appeared anxious for the tour guide to continue. But no one seemed as interested in the tale as the curvaceous mystery woman in black did. Her solitary focus seemed to be on Tabitha Holcomb, who clearly enjoyed the attention she was receiving. After a few more seconds of silence, the guide continued her story.

"Their deaths caused a minor scandal because Edgar Tanner, the undertaker who owned the house and the woodshed, admitted that Honor used it for customers when she didn't want to pay the saloon owner his share, or maybe when she didn't want to pay her pimp husband his share. He denied any knowledge that Stanton and Honor might have used the woodshed to rob her customers, but Stokes pushed the Sheriff to investigate the undertaker anyway. And who knows what might have happened if Stokes had not succumbed to his head injury about a week after the fight. The sheriff never pursued an investigation against Tanner, but his successor as sheriff did note a few years later that the number of disappearances dipped slightly in the months following the deaths of Honor Quinn and August Stanton. So, we may never know if Stanton and Honor were running a scam, or if Stanton, in a fit of anger and jealousy, attacked Honor and her customer that night in 1869. But perhaps tonight is the night we can find out. Although the woodshed is long gone, this house is still one of the most active places in all of Virginia City. Over the years, many who have lived here have seen a woman with long, curly, red hair who is dressed in a risqué green dress, one that would be in keeping with what a saloon dancer and prostitute may have worn."

The tour guide paused as members of the group murmured to those around them. She again looked at all of them in turn, then continued.

"But in addition to the female apparition, who we believe is Honor Quinn, some people have seen a tall, stern-faced man who wanders the yard or lurks just outside where the old woodshed would have been," their tour guide continued. "We believe that man is August Stanton. Many past owners or tenants of the the house have felt blows to their head when they are out in the yard, and sometimes people have smelled cigar smoke in the middle of the open air."