The Ghost and Mr. Moore (7 page)

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Authors: Ryan Field

Tags: #Erotica, #Romance, #Fiction

BOOK: The Ghost and Mr. Moore
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The wife was a loud mouth, and the husband was her meek little toy. They never had sex,

 

and when he masturbated he watched young girls, children, on television. I wanted to

 

burn the house down the first time I saw it happen. They were repulsive people.” Dexter had never been more confused in his life. A ghost with morals? He still

 

thought he was losing his mind. But instead of pulling away from Captain Lang, he

 

spread his legs wider and moved forward on the bed. When he rested his head on the

 

pillow, Captain Lang’s hand went up the crack of his ass.

 

Maybe this was the ultimate jerk-off fantasy. He’d jerked off to the image of

 

Captain Lang’s portrait before, and now he was dreaming about Captain Lang sitting on

 

his bed, naked, feeling his ass. He looked into Captain Lang’s eyes and said, “Tell me

 

I’m dreaming all this and that I’m not going crazy. Tell me I’ll be fine.”

 

Captain Lang smiled. “You are fine, and you are safe. But you are not dreaming.

 

This is real.” Then he climbed on top of Dexter and put his strong arms around him. “I’d

 

like to make love to you now. But only if you want me to. If you’re not ready, I can wait

 

for as long as it takes, Dexter.”

 

Dexter’s head went back and he closed his eyes. He lifted his legs, bent them at

 

the knee, and arched his back in complete submission. Captain Lang’s beard was pressed

 

to his cheek by then, and he could feel Captain Lang’s solid erection poking the tender

 

spot between his legs. Lang’s beard was rough and it gave Dexter an erection; Lang’s

 

penis was huge and it was searching for an open, willing hole to penetrate. Dexter placed

 

his palms on Captain Lang’s shoulders and said, “Yes. Make love to me. I don’t care

 

what you are, ghost or human or dream. I want to do this.”

 

Captain Lang kissed him on the lips. He shoved his tongue into Dexter’s mouth,

 

probed as deeply as he could, and sucked so hard Dexter’s cheeks went into his jaw. His

 

beard made Dexter’s heart beat faster; his strong grip made Dexter’s chest heave with desire. When Lang reached down and guided the tip of his penis to Dexter’s small, tight

 

opening, Dexter whispered, “Do you have a condom? I only have safe sex.”

 

Lang kissed his earlobe and said, “I’m a ghost. There is no need for a condom or

 

any lubrication. I know how to enter you so you’ll never feel an ounce of discomfort or

 

pain. And I know how to fill you with pleasure you never knew existed.” He stuck his

 

tongue into Dexter’s ear and rolled it around a few times. “Will you allow me to enter

 

your body?”

 

No one had ever asked for permission before, not even Michael. The few guys

 

he’d been with had just poked around and shoved it into him. This one gentle act made

 

Dexter feel special, as if he possessed something magical of his own. He smiled and

 

nodded. “Yes, I want you inside me.”

 

When the tip of Lang’s penis entered Dexter’s body, Lang’s mouth opened and he

 

moaned. When the entire erection was buried as deeply as it would go, Lang kissed him

 

on the lips again. Dexter closed his eyes and saw sparks and flashes; his entire body

 

tingled and the tips of his toes felt numb with pleasure. Captain Lang had been correct.

 

Dexter didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort or pain. The thick, long shaft had slipped into

 

his opening with one simple thrust. Dexter spread his legs as wide as they would go and

 

said, “If I’m dreaming all this and I am losing my mind, it certainly was worth it.”

 

Then Captain Lang began to buck his hips with a slow rhythm. His erection

 

passed in and out of Dexter’s hole with an easiness Dexter hadn’t known was possible.

 

The friction made Dexter’s eyelids flutter; the pounding made his nipples hard. As the

 

rhythm increased and Lang slammed into him with louder smacks, Dexter reached down with his right hand and grabbed his own penis. He gripped his erection and whispered to

 

Lang, “Please don’t stop.”

 

After what seemed like an hour of absolute ecstasy, Dexter couldn’t hold back.

 

Lang’s rigid erection touched all his most sensitive spots, both inside his body and

 

around the rim of his anus. He’d been on the edge for a while, and it finally became too

 

intense to control. “I’m coming,” he whispered. “I can’t hold back any longer.” Captain

 

Lang was fucking him so hard now his legs were bouncing up and down and the bed was

 

rocking away from the wall.

 

“Don’t hold back,” Lang said.

 

They both climaxed at the same time. Dexter exploded all over his own chest. He

 

wanted to shout at the top of his lungs, but he couldn’t because Marion and Brighton

 

were downstairs working on supper. Captain Lang grunted a few times, moaned Dexter’s

 

name in a stage whisper, and fell on top of his body.

 

Dexter ran his fingers across Lang’s muscular back. There were ripples and ridges;

 

it was that glorious, masculine mix of firm and smooth. If this really was Captain Lang,

 

he had the body of a real man who had gained his muscle through hard work and long

 

hours spent on the deck of a ship. Dexter’s legs were still up and bent at the knees, and

 

Lang was still inside his body. He opened his eyes and said, “If I’m dreaming all this,

 

why are you still here? And how is it that I can still feel you inside me?”

 

Lang laughed. “It’s because you’re not dreaming, Dexter.”

 

Dexter looked over Lang’s shoulder at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost

 

seven o’clock and he had to get ready for dinner. He tapped Lang’s shoulders and said, “I can’t believe what time it is. You have to pull out and get up. I have to get ready for

 

supper.”

 

Lang bucked his hips again and his erection went deeper. “That’s right. You

 

missed your nap today. You always take a nap between five and six, then you get ready

 

for dinner at seven.”

 

The magnitude of all this finally hit Dexter. Captain Lang had been watching him

 

all along. Lang knew his routine and he knew his life. “You know everything about me,

 

and yet I know nothing about you,” he said.

 

Lang slapped his ass hard and pulled back. When his penis slid out of Dexter’s

 

body, Dexter felt a chill run down his spine, as if an important part of his own body had

 

been removed too suddenly. “I’ll tell you everything,” Lang said. “But right now you

 

have to get ready.” Then he stood up from the bed and crossed back toward the fireplace.

 

Dexter sat up and lifted his arm. “Wait,” he said. “Will you be back?”

 

Lang lifted his right eyebrow and smiled. Then he rubbed his palms together and

 

said, “Oh, you can be sure I’ll be back for more.”

 

Chapter Five

 

“Have you heard from Dad?” Brighton asked. She was picking and shoving the

 

green beans on her plate, uninterested in food. Brighton had never been a huge eater, and

 

vegetables were at the bottom of her list.

 

“No, sweetie, I haven’t. But I’m sure he’s fine.” Dexter forced a smile, but he was

 

holding his fork so tightly it started to bend. Michael had promised Brighton that he’d

 

call when he arrived in L.A. to let her know he was okay. But Michael was funny about

 

promises: you never knew whether or not he’d fulfill them.

 

“Finish your dinner, Brighton,” Marion said. She always ate dinner with them.

 

Dexter had always insisted. Marion was the most important female influence in

 

Brighton’s life, and it made her family.

 

Brighton gave Marion a look and shoved a green bean into her mouth. She

 

chewed with scrunched lips, and when she swallowed, she gulped so hard the dog’s ears

 

moved.

 

Dexter put down his fork and sighed. He had to tell them about the TV show and

 

he wasn’t sure how they were going to react. “I have an announcement to make. There’s

 

going to be something very interesting happening here at Keel Cottage very soon.”

 

Marion and Brighton looked at him with wide eyes. “What is it, Dad?” Brighton

 

asked. She was on the edge of her seat, kicking her right leg back and forth.

 

“They are going to be filming a TV show here,” Dexter said. “We’re all going to

 

be part of a new reality show.” His voice went up high, with a playful lilt. Brighton sat up and clapped her hands together. “On TV?” She was smiling and

 

her eyes were glowing. “Is Cleo going to be on TV too?”

 

Dexter nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Even Marion will be on the show.”

 

Marion put down her fork and said, “Oh, Mr. Moore. I don’t know about this at

 

all. What kind of reality show?” Marion was a stern, private woman. She avoided crowds

 

and she despised any form of attention. “This doesn’t sound like you at all, Mr. Moore.”

 

Dexter took a short breath and frowned. Marion knew him well. She knew he

 

craved his privacy just as much as she did, and this outrageous announcement was out of

 

character. “It’s very simple. They are going to follow us around with cameras, day and

 

night. It’s like a daily chronicle of our lives.”

 

“Oh, Mr. Moore,” Marion said. “Are you sure about this?” She smoothed out her

 

napkin and pressed her lips together.

 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Marion,” he said. “I don’t have much of a choice. I’ll

 

explain why I’m doing this later. But trust me, it’s not something I’m looking forward to

 

either. It was strictly a financial decision. You have to trust me.”

 

She stared at him for a moment, then she lifted her eyebrows, smiled, and patted

 

the top of his hand. “I see.”

 

Brighton jumped off her chair and shouted, “Well, I can’t wait, Dad. I can’t wait

 

to be on TV.” Then she looked down at Cleo, under the table waiting for a piece of food

 

to drop. “And Cleo can’t wait either.”

 

After dinner, Dexter, Brighton, and Cleo took a walk into town for ice cream.

 

They walked all the way up to a new little ice cream shop in the east end, and then back

 

to Keel Cottage. By the time they were home, it was well past Brighton’s bedtime and Marion brought her upstairs for her bath. Dexter yawned a few times and told them he

 

was going to bed early, too. He said he wanted to start a new novel that night, and if he

 

waited until later he’d never do it.

 

But the real reason he was going to bed early was because of what had happened

 

in his room before dinner. He couldn’t stop thinking about Captain Lang; he still wasn’t

 

sure if it had all been a dream.

 

When he went into his bedroom, he closed the door and clicked the lock. He

 

looked around the room and saw that it was empty. He gulped and said, “Are you here

 

now? Are you in this room?”

 

No one answered.

 

If there really was a ghost, and it was Captain Lang, Dexter knew one simple,

 

direct way to get his attention. Dexter had a feeling he knew what Captain Lang liked,

 

and he was more than willing to give it to him. So he went to the bed and removed his

 

shoes and socks. He pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants. When he was naked, he

 

picked up his clothes and slowly moved to one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace.

 

He dropped his clothes on a chair, lifted his arms, and stretched. His back arched and his

 

ass rounded out. Then he walked to the bed, pulled back the duvet, and lowered his body

 

to the mattress face down.

 

When he was flat on the bed, he spread his legs and shoved a pillow beneath his

 

stomach. “If you’re watching me right now, come to bed.” He couldn’t believe he was

 

talking to a ghost.

 

A minute later, Dexter felt a gentle breeze brush against his naked ass. When he

 

lifted his head and looked back toward the fireplace, he saw Lang standing next to a wing chair. Lang was also naked, except for his sea captain’s hat. The hat tilted down, over his

 

right eyebrow, and covered half his forehead. He was holding a full erection in his

 

massive palm.

 

This was, indeed, real. And Dexter knew that he hadn’t been dreaming.

 

Lang lowered his chin and said, “I was watching you while you undressed for bed.

 

I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to watch.”

 

Dexter rested his cheek against the pillow and spread his legs wider. He said, “I

 

knew you were watching, and that’s why I took my time. It’s okay.” Dexter had never

 

admitted his harmless private exhibitionism to anyone, not even to Michael, and he’d

 

been with Michael for years. “For some reason I can’t explain, I feel close to you.”

 

Dexter reached back with his right hand and ran it slowly up and down the right side of

 

his smooth ass. His entire body was tan that year. “Are you coming to bed?”

 

“Do you want me to come to bed?”

 

Dexter lifted his arms and stretched. “Yes,” he said. He wanted to be filled with

 

Lang’s erection again; he wanted Lang to rub his beard across the back of his neck. And

 

he wanted to be in Lang’s strong, safe arms all night long.

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