Virgin Sacrifice

He could never see her.  But he was beautiful.  Her ghost man.

In all Annabelle’s eighteen years she’d never seen a man like him.  Tall and broad he had large muscular arms, not like a bodybuilder but like a man who knew how to work, a man who chopped wood and used his hands all day.

Those hands… She loved those hands.  His fingers were long and thick and work-worn, every time she watched his hands she wondered what they would feel like running over her heated flesh.

She wanted his touch so badly; wanted to feel his fingers combing through her long black hair.  She longed to feel those hips and thick thighs between her own slender ones; she longed to feel the tip of his thick erection against her virgin opening and scream in perfect agony as it split her in two, opening her cunt wide to his passion.

She imagined him moving over her, his hips thrusting in urgent need between her trembling thighs.  She’d watched sometimes as the stableboy took her spoilt sister.  Her face a mask of sweet bliss as he moaned his pleasure, thrusting hard and fast, his moans getting louder, her hands gripping his shaking shoulders, that final deep plunge that made him yell and hold himself in-place till his pleasure was spent.

But the stable boy, Jimmy, was nothing compared to her ghost man.  She’d taken to calling him Luke; she didn’t know why but the name just fit.  Luke’s long black hair hung down his back, tied with a simple piece of cloth.

Today he was cutting wood.  She watched as the muscles bunched in his back and the sweat shimmered over his large bare chest.  He pulled the axe back the swung it with a grunt and bringing the axe down hard and splitting the wood in two. He threw the two pieces in the barrel and grabbed another log.

Three more logs cut in two and she was as hot and sweaty as him.  Her fingers dug into her sides and her pussy pulsed and clenched and tingled.  Everything about him made her tremble with need.

But then suddenly all at once he stopped, axe posed above his head.  Slowly he brought the axe down and put it on the ground then turned to face her.

Her face paled, her mouth dropped open.  He was looking at her.  His eyes a dark stormy blue weren’t looking through her, they were looking at her.

“Who are you?”  He sounded more curious then angry or annoyed.

“A – Annabelle.”  She took a step back.  “I wasn’t watching you.”  A slight giggle escaped her traitorous chest and she could have slapped herself.

“Of course you weren’t.”  His voice turned smoother, like liquid honey and his cocky smiled told her that he knew all he needed to know.  “Nothing to see here.” He picked up the axe and grinned again but before she could tell him off he slowly faded away.

“Whoa.”  Annabelle stood completely still for a moment.  Did that just happen?  How was it possible for him to see her?  He’d never seen her before.

She wasn’t even sure she believed in ghosts but the idea of an echo from the past seemed oddly real when presented with this man who appeared and disappeared, had been for weeks.  But she had never thought it possible that he could think or do anything outside the little routine he seemed to keep – Monday he cut wood, Wednesday he tended horses that disappeared when he did, Friday he fixed fences and gates and doors and other things around the grounds.  But it was all an echo.

So how did he just step out of his echo and talk to her?

That night she ventured into the stables.  Once or twice whole calming her horse at night she had heard sounds coming from somewhere above.  Her sister told her that up there used to be where the farmhands slept…  Was it possible that he also slept there?  Did she dare find out?

Feeling wicked Annabelle slowly climbed the rungs taking her to the floor above the stables.  The floor was totally bare, nothing but hay and dust and cobwebs.  But just as she was about to climb back down something shimmered in the corner.

Before her eyes a bunk appeared, a small trunk and finally her ghost man stepped out of the shadows.  He couldn’t’ see her so he moved about his space with ease.  She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside.  His large hands moved to his pants and her breath caught.

She watched as one large hand cupped the bulge in his pants and gave it a firm squeeze.  A groan escaped between his clenched teeth and he kept massaging the bulge, making it bigger, moaning with each pulse of his fingers.

She wanted to touch him.  She never touched a man like that but she wanted to learn.  Now.  His head turned sharply but he didn’t really look at her.   “I’m in agony can’t you see?” he almost sobbed out the words.  “I am trapped in this void of nothing.  Cursed to remain till…”

“Till?” she asked, stepping closer, closer.  She reached out to touch him but her hand passed through his arm.  He was there but not there, an echo, a reflection…  Not real.

But when he looked at her she could feel the heat of his gaze, feel real desire course through her veins.

“How can I help you?”

“You must be pure, virgin innocence or you could not see me.”

Annabelle nodded.  “I’ve never been with a man.  I’ve never even felt the way I feel – when I’m watching you.”

He nodded and then shook his head, turning away from her.  “I can’t.”  He waved a hand without looking back.  “Leave.  Don’t come back up here ever again, if you see me just pretend you don’t and walk away… It’s easier if there is no one else.  One day bleeds into another.”

Annabelle circled him so he had to look at her and stood her ground.  “No.  I want to help you.”  At his unsure expression she insisted.  “I may be a – a virgin but I am no child.  I know my own mind and I choose to help.”  She raised her chin looking him in the eye.  “S – so how do I do that?”

He reached out as though to touch her, his fingers stroking down the outline of her cheek, her jaw, her chin, and her lips.  “You must consent to be my lover.”

“But we can’t touch.”

“Not the point.”  He arched his eyebrow suggestively and she felt her cheeks flush.

“Okay.”  Planting her feet more firmly on the floor and looking into his eyes she said.  “I give my consent.  I will be your lover.”

Nothing happened.  His smile was too amused and his eyes glittered.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he murmured, close to her ear and circled around her.  “I am delighted by you.  I like you.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?”

He looked at her for a long time, choosing his words.  “Consent involves more than simply saying words and in lovemaking there are many gates to open.  Consent to passion is a pathway, a yellow brick road.”

She looked right back at him.  “I don’t understand.”

“Then let me be your guide.”  Now standing right in front of her, shirtless, the buttons of his pants undone, a statue of man and sex he said, “Will you remove your blouse?”

Something inside her floated and warmed on the flow of his words.  “I will,” she replied and unbuttoned her blouse.

She let the flimsy white silk fall to her shoulders, then to the floor, forgotten.

His eyes grazed over her lacy bra and bare creamy white stomach and waist.  Her breasts were not large but they filled the bra nicely and she licked her lips as he raised his hands as though to cup them.

After another moment he asked, “Will you remove your skirt?”

“I will.” Her heartbeat fluttered.  This was really happening.

 She reached behind and unzipped her simple black pencil skirt and let it drop.

He was breathing hard now.  “You’re beautiful.  Will – will you remove your underwear?”

She faltered.  It wasn’t like she was living in the Victorian era.  Lots of girls her age were having sex already.  She was eighteen after all.

Feeling her cheeks flushing she unclipped her bra and her panties soon followed the rest of her clothes to the floor.  His hands cupped at her shoulders as though to hold her then slowly slid down her arms.  His mouth soon followed, an impossible, un-touching trail down her throat, over her shoulder.  His mouth opened over one erect nipple and she gasped and shivered as though she could actually feel the wetness and heat of his on her breast.

He told her to lie on the bunk and she did.  Too dazed and aroused to be hesitant any longer.

“Do you ever…”  His eyes flicked down to her pussy and back.  “You know.”

She flushed again and mumbled, “Sometimes.”

“Will you do that for me now?”

“Only if you do it too,” she replied, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Oh, honey, trust me I am way ahead of you.”

Looking down her eyes went wide when she saw his long fingers wrapped around something much longer and thicker then she expected it to be.

“Touch your breasts for me, darlin’”  When she did as she was told he nodded and licked his lips, his hand moving long and slow on his cock.  “Ooh yeah, just like that.  Cup them; squeeze them just tight enough to…”

She let out a gasp, there was pleasure and pain.  She squeezed again and moaned, her lower body tightening in response.

“How do they feel,” he asked.

“Soft but firm,” she replied, her eyes fluttered closed and all she could focus on was the sensation of her hands.  In her mind they were his hands.  “It feels good when I squeeze them and my nipples feel tight against my palms.”

He moaned.  “Now touch yourself, find your clit and make it feel good.”

Slowly, slowly she slid her hand down her body, enjoying the feel of fingertips running down her centre.  His fingertips.  Placing her hands between her thighs she pushed them apart, imagining his hands forcing her open to him.  Then with two fingers she parted her already wet folds and found her clit, swollen and ready.

Her finger gently stroked the side of her clit, stroke, stroke, circle, stroke, stroke, circle.  Annabelle’s whole body tingled and heated with sensation.

“If you could…” She let out a moan and kept stroking.  “Take me.”  She opened her eyes to find him looking right back at her.  “How would you do it?  What would you do?”

His lips brushed, un-touching over hers and he said, “First I would kiss your beautiful body from head to toe.  I long to feel your silky cream skin against my lips, find those places that make you tremble and moan.”

Her eyes closed again and she let herself float on his words, her fingers stroking her clit the way she knew would bring her to climax, her other hand squeezing her breast.

“God’s breath, woman, do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are right now?”  She could hear his hand moving faster on his erection, hear the way his breath hitched and hissed from his clenched teeth.  “I would take each of your delectable nipples into my mouth and suck and lick till you begged me to stop.”

She let out another moan and rubbed faster, her whole body started trembling.

“I would part your perfect thighs with my knees and position my rock hard cock at the wet opening of your virgin cunt.”  His voice whispered in her ear.  “Are you ready for what would happen next?”

“Yes!” She cried out.  “Oh yes.  Yes please tell me.”  Her toes curled, her thighs turned to jelly, her whole body balanced on the needle’s edge as she waited for his words.

“I would press my cock deep, spreading your sweet hole wide as I slide home.  Forcing my dick into your opening with strong strokes, breaking through the barriers till I was gripped like a glove inside you.”

The lust in his words, the husky sound of his voice both drover her over the edge.  The first wave of bliss hit so suddenly she let out a soft yell then all was lost in a sea of hot, flowing pleasure.

“Oh Luke, Yes!”

Suddenly there were hands on her thighs.  She could feel the weight pressing her into the bunk.  The smell of sweat and soap and something purely masculine filled her senses and Oh! something hot and hard pressed urgently against her still quivering opening.

Her eyes flicked open to see Luke grinning down at her.  “You did it,” he said gruffly.  “You broke the curse.”

Lifting her hips he pressed the bare tip of his cock into her virgin slit and she whimpered.  He was wide and long and even the tip felt huge.

His fingers dug into her hips and with a grunt of pure animal lust he thrust his cock violently into her tight cunt.  Her scream of pain was met by his cry of pleasure.  He gave her time to adjust and it didn’t take long for sting of his first invasion to become a full sort of ache.

“Oh fucking hell,” he moaned against her throat, his lower body pumping in long powerful stokes.  “It’s been way too long since I’ve had a tight cunt wrapped around my dick.”

He pulled up so his weight was balanced on his arms and sank his teeth onto his bottom lip as he looked down at her.  His mouth descended and kissed her lips, her throat, licking the tip of his tongue around her jawline.

“I knew the second I saw you…” he said between wide-mouthed gasping breaths.  “You would be the sexy little vixen I needed.”

All she could do was grip his arms that were even harder than they looked.  The feel of the muscles under his flesh flexing and bunching with each thrust was driving her wild all over again.  With each deep, hard thrust of his body into hers he was dragging her higher.

“So you like that?” he leered down at her rolling his hips to force in cock in deeper.  “You like the feel of a nice hard dick filling that tight little pussy?”

A strangled, “Yes!” Was all she could manage before she was flying again.  With a loud, “Oh!”  Her second climax hit and her whole body bent back like a tightened bowstring, her legs wrapped around his back.

“Fuck!” he gasped, dropping to his elbows so his mouth was right by her ear.  “Your sweet cunt is strangling my dick, miking me of my cum, can’t hold back… To fucking sweet…”

Three hard thrusts and he let out a yell, his head flying back.  “Too – Fucking – Sweet!”  His cock ploughed deep into her clenching cunt and he held fast.

His mouth fell wide; his whole body tensed above her and formed a kind of statue to carnal pleasure.  And all at once he was gone.

For a long time Annabelle lay flat on her back on the hard floor where a moment ago she had been laying on a bunk.  It was gone and he was gone.

The fact that she was naked and the spots of blood on her thighs were the only evidence that anything had happened at all.