Supernatural Sex: Fucking the Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future

Supernatural sex – who would’ve ever thought that could be possible, right? Then again, reading some my past stories regarding necrophilia sex, it really shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise.

Christmas was something I used to have a problem with. I admit that I used to be a bit of a Scrooge. Being around family so much could be super fucking annoying. Not to mention that having the inability to fulfill my sexual needs was frustrating beyond belief. I mean, shower masturbation can only get you so far, especially when you’re sharing the bathroom with half of the household.

Well, little did I know what all of my tension and frustrations would soon be released with supernatural sex.

Anyways, I gradually stopped caring about Christmas and refused to participate in gift exchanges, let alone sing those God damn much-too-jovial songs. You better watch out… blah blah… Santa Claus is coming to town…. Well, Santa Claus can go fuck himself.

On Christmas Eve a few years ago, I stayed in my room as usual, trying to minimize the screams of my siblings’ little rug rats by playing some of loud, punk music. I was contemplating engaging in a hot masturbation session, when all of a sudden, I felt something strange: an artic touch that froze me over but warmed me up at the same time.

“Hello?” No answer. Then another touch. “Who the fuck is this?”

No answer came forth, so I repeated my question. Finally, a strange voice came through.

“I’m the ghost of Christmas past.”

“Who?”

“The ghost of Christmas past. I’m here to show you just how much fun you used to have during Christmas.”

I tried to sit up but the ghost slid his glacier hand inside my panties.

“Do you remember, Carmen?” he spoke softly, fingering me. The coldness numbed my clit and pussy immediately, making my thighs twitch. “Do you remember how much sex you used to have around Christmas time?” The cooling effect wore out to be replaced by an intense heat that made my body begin to tremble.

Holy fuck, was I actually going to engage in supernatural sex?

And then a series of visions swirled in front of me, from all of these Christmases ago. Images of me fucking my cousin, fucking the hot neighbor across the street, fucking his son, too, then his mother, etc., paraded in front me, all the while feeling fingers of burning ice twirling around my g-spot and clit. It was beginning to feel, oh, so good! Especially while watching my series of sexual debaucheries. It was pretty much homemade porn, but with a much better cameraman.

Needless to say, I had quickly stopped resisting and had fully given myself to the unknown pleasures of supernatural sex.

I was embracing the ghost and his strange ways of making me nostalgic about the days I enjoyed Christmas. That, and he was doing a pretty god damn job of using his icy fingers to stimulate me more and more. Before I could even moan out in pleasure, my navel churned and spurted out my juices all over the bed. I was panting uncontrollably, feeling the cold being replaced with relaxing warmth. I looked up to speak but found the ghost gone. Soon enough, I was fast asleep.

The next morning, I was inspired to join the others downstairs but retreated to my room as soon as the Christmas caroling began. I played with my iPhone for a while, sexting with a few fuck buddies and drinking a bottle of champagne I’d stolen from the kitchen. (Actually, I’m pretty sure it was the bottle meant for that evening’s toast). In the middle of answering a text about how lame the festivities were, I felt something fondling my breasts.

I tried to scream but my voice couldn’t escape out of my throat. My nipples were taut and I had goosebumps all along my arms. I had rarely had my breasts stimulated this well. It was making me wet, and all I did was moan until the hands stopped.

“Why – who are you?” I asked, caught in a trance.

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas present. I’m here to let you know just how much you’re missing out on.”

Another ghost? Would this turn out to be another supernatural sex encounter?

“How? What do you –“

The ghost snapped his fingers and my clothes disappeared. He immediately grabbed my thigh and pinched it. I responded by clasping his cold, thick cock in my palm and pulling it. He was frigid, but the touch made my blood boil, wanting him inside me. As if he sensed my need, the ghost penetrated me, filling me with his massive icy cock. He froze me from the inside each time he pushed in and melted me whenever he pulled out. It was intense, sexy, and just brilliant. I came multiple times, and not once did the ghost take his cock out. I woke up sore.

I wondered if it was all a dream, or if I was actually spending the holidays having supernatural sex. Were Christmas ghosts actually visiting me to rekindle the Christmas spirit with what I enjoyed the most? Of course, it couldn’t be real. But later on that evening, a hand suddenly went up to my skirt. It was cold, and it made my pussy squirm immediately.

“I’m the ghost of Christmas future, and you will be my slave for tonight.”

I couldn’t hide my smirk and dutifully followed the ghost wherever it took me. The hottest supernatural sex entailed a kinky BDSM session that stretched all of my so-called boundaries. The marks around my wrists and mouth were still there the next morning. My ass was sore, and my pussy devoid of any feeling. In just three nights, Christmas had become fun again, and I knew better than to mope around in my bedroom alone during the holidays ever again.

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Carmen