Hotel *Para*mount

      It was the nineteen eighties, and I was in my late twenties about to attend my first body building competition, which I was more than a little nervous about. We were all put up in a good hotel, and I was completely ready for the next morning when it would be held. The bikini-style posing trunks I’d recently purchased lay folded on the dresser. I’d made it a point to get briefs that had full rear coverage; some of the ones on the market didn’t. 

      Nothing of import had happened that evening except that the hotel workers had told a tale of a young woman who had died in one of the rooms on her wedding night under mysterious circumstances in the 1950s. Now in my room, with nothing else left to prepare, I stripped to just my underpants - gray jockey shorts - and hopped into bed. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the feeling of a hand touching my cheek. My eyes now opened, I saw no one there in the semidarkness.

       “Who’s there?” I said. I received no response. I lay there supine, wondering for a few seconds. However, that was quickly interrupted by what happened next. There appeared in the space above me, the blue and pink specter of a young woman. The ghost itself seemed bright, but did not illuminate the room itself. Then it disappeared. I felt awake, that I wasn’t dreaming this. 

      In a fast and fluid motion, the bedsheet was pulled off, completely exposing my brief-clad body. Next, I felt the unmistakable sensation of a hand gently caressing my genitals through my jockeys. 

I heard a distorted woman’s voice whisper in my ear, “Do you want to?”

      I couldn’t believe the events unfolding before me. As a single man, I decided why not, whether this was a dream or otherwise. I nodded. Then I felt a brief kiss on my lips. The caressing intensified and I became as hard as I’d ever been, tenting my jockeys. I felt hands grasp my penis and put it in the upright position, my erection still covered by my underpants. The hands migrated from my groin down on both sides of my hips to under my brief-clad buttocks, each hand maintaining a gentle but firm hold. Now I could feel lips moving down my sheathed member, and the fellatio began in full. 

      Whoever she was in life, she was undoubtedly experienced and talented in bed. I had the thought that she could pick a lock with her tongue if she wanted to. I let out sigh after sigh. It was getting quite wet down there. She was either able to manifest saliva, or it was ectoplasm or whatever; plus I was also making an unusually large amount of pre-come for me. I moved my head to see a large dark gray patch on the tent in my jockeys, the sight of which turned me on even further.

      The phantom seemed to know what edging was as she kept bringing me to the brink of climax without me orgasming for over a whole hour. “Let me come now,” I gasped. The sucking became faster and more rigorous. Then, orgasmic relief started enveloping me as I began ejaculating in my jockeys. Ecstatic pleasure was punctuated by my moans. I let out a long sigh as I finished pumping semen into my briefs. Then I felt another brief kiss on my lips, absent any bodily fluids. 

      After a minute without any more interaction with the entity, I got up out of bed. I went to the shower to wash my crotch and rinse the jism out of my briefs.

When finished, I whipped on a fresh pair of briefs and went back to bed. I lay there on my back in my underpants again without a sheet in case she wanted another go, but that kiss was the last interaction we would have. Of course, any proof of the encounter gone out of those soiled briefs down the drain of the hotel shower. 

      I slept like I’d not slept in a long time the rest of the night, thankful for the unexpected release of tense apprehension.