A Ghost For Halloween

Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, or non-consensual sex.

{Disclaimer: All characters in this piece are eighteen or over}

(Even the ghost)

I’m not British, please forgive my tromping of the slang.

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“Yo! Tory? Hey its Dad, you want this? Hang on-a sec.”

Dad snapped a picture with his phone, sent it, and waited for her reply. He had to yank the phone away to save his ear drum when he got it.

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, PLEASE, PLEASE!”

Tory’s dad worked a regular nine to five job, but on the weekends liked to hop into his beat-up old ford and go junk hunting. ‘Never know what you may find’ was pretty much his tag line when Saturday mornings rolled around. Today he’d found a nugget for his daughter, an old, beat up, half scaled pipe organ. Not so big that it was cumbersome, also not so small it looked like a toy.

Mr. Sander’s laughed, “Okay, okay. We’ll be home soon.” and hung up. “Why did I say we’ll? Eh.” Loading it onto the truck he swore he could smell candy.

Fall was her favorite time of year, October to be specific, it not only had Halloween in it, but Tory’s birthday too. This year had been her eighteenth. The family had always hosted a party every thirty-first, so she’d been promised a mini gala to celebrate her ‘coming of age’ (if they only knew) year. Still, everyone would have a part to play in it, including Tory.

Mom was the caterer making every conceivable treat you could think of. Her ‘piece de resistance’ this year was a punch bowl tower.

At least three feet tall, four circular tiers of gingerbread ghost’s rose up to meet a skeletal spider. From each leg clear tubing ran down the side’s, weaving between the ghosts into the bunch bowl where it was centered. Spun sugar webs covered it all. When mom turned on the pump, blood red punch gurgled up through the tubes back into the bowl. “Mom, THAT, is super awesome!!”

Tory’s mom winked. Raising her nose in the air she flicked her layered, dark brunette hair, “I know!!” and sauntered back to the stove. Mrs. Sanders was Thirty-Nine going on Twenty-two; mentally and physically. She was small at five foot three, and almost sickeningly, (especially if you were a jealous female type) proportioned. Leggy with a tight waist, she had tit’s any surgeon would be hard pressed to duplicate.

Outside was dad’s territory. He Nine to Fived it at a factory that manufactured and shipped adhesive products, including clear packing tape. Once the long rolls were sliced into individual sections, the end cuts were binned, that’s where he got an Idea. Dad formed the end cuts into translucent, ghostly figures, each one sitting on a pivot atop a long poll.

Underneath each ghost was one of the many dry ice foggers he’d had found during his Saturday morning runs. Every few minutes they would puff, setting the ghosts off on a way to realistic hover over their graves. Add green to red fading lights, fake tombstones, (dirt in front for a fresh grave look) and Tory had a show when she got home that night. “Holy cow dad, you’re going to have the cops here with that display!!” Pops got a huge grin on his face.

Tory’s domain was the house itself, but just inside. After the rain / snow / papier-mâché debacle she was strictly a no weather decorator. Was cool though, a book of retro Halloween decorations at the library had sparked a flame, and she ended up researching back to the Thirty’s. Ever seen a Jack-O-Lantern made from a turnip? Creepy back then-creepier now, she loved it.

Headlight’s flashed through the living room window, Tory almost tore the kitchen door off to meet up with her dad in the garage. Mom’s gene pool had made Tory a carbon, all be it more bosomy, copy of her mom. Same shapely leg’s, small waist and apple butt, but definitely an edge in the boob department. Dad shook his head a bit when his braless daughter started hopping up and down, tit’s flying. “See, see, see. Let me seeeee!!!”

“You want to see it huh? Tell you what, see if you can find a bra, and then maybe.” Tory faked a ‘gasp’ and covered her boobs with a forearm.

“Father such inappropriateness towards your only sweet, innocent daughter.”

“Bite me kid. Start wearing bra’s or stop going out. Get it?” Tory’s dad wasn’t a lay down the law type; he was serious when he was serious though. “Back of the truck under the tarp…And tell me if you smell candy.” Any other time that question would have garnered a raised eye brow, all that mattered right now however was that treasure dad had found.

The organ was in pretty rough shape but nothing she couldn’t see being fixed. A lot of keys were missing from the boards, as well as two rocker switches that sat above them. On first look the pipes seemed to be brass, a closer look found them just good fakes. On each side a column six feet tall had arched shaped window cutouts hiding speakers behind grill cloth. Tory figured her speakers would fit there nicely.

“So, daughter of mine, you figure you can make something out that?”

“Tory’s hand went to her hip, her nose up in the air. “I am the queen of repurposing.”

Dad gave a grunt, “Okay queen bee, but you’re going to have to wait till tomorrow for it to get moved to your room. The Two columns detach, but for one man, that middle part’s a bear.” Before she could mention her friends coming to help, headlights lit up the driveway. “You didn’t.” Dad got a sheepish smile back. “You did. Get a bra now or you all forget it.”

“Grrrr, fine. You know mom isn’t wearing one either!”

“Your mom is my wife, and I happen to like seeing her puppy’s free range.”

Hands over her ears Tory stomped through the back door, “Grimmmmmm!”

Geff and Denise were in the car that pulled up, two good kids, both with a libidinous nature twenty kid’s their age couldn’t have equaled. “Hey Mr. Sanders. How are you doing tonight sir?” Geff was good looking. Square cut features, tall, good muscle tone, all capped with a mop of red hair and freckles. The only drawback he had, which dad thought funny, was his inability to not stare at Mrs. Sander’s tit’s.

“Not bad kid, how about you and Denise?”

Denise was an odd assortment of things. She flited between cheerleader, vamp and hooker all in the same outfit. Dad said she was like a 3d picture you moved to see the other one’s hidden in it. At five eight she was tall and lithe, her pointed breasts always seemed to be nipple hard no matter the weather. While Geff had his fixation on the wife’s boobs, according to mom, Denise was eye glued to dad’s crotch whenever she thought she could get away with it.

“Living the dream sir. How heavy are we talking?” He pointed towards the organ.

“The two of us won’t have a problem son, want a beer first?” Geff got a lop-sided grin on his face and nodded yes. Mr. Sanders had his own sense of what funny was, he called for his wife to bring two beers, knowing full well, (thanks to Tory) her jugs would be bouncing with every step. Couldn’t have gone better.

She came jugging into the garage, her black t-shirt stretched tight over the girls. Sometime during the baking she’d grabbed her boobs with floured hands, leaving two ghost white imprints that not only highlighted her nipples, but gave the distinct impression she was being fondled. Mom shot dad a ‘you’re a dick’ look as soon as she saw Geff but didn’t back off from a chance to tease.

Bending well over what she needed to do, the collar of her shirt collapsed revealing the grand canyon of all cleavage. “Nice to see you again Jeffery. How are you?” Dad almost blew a heart valve when he answered.

“Their awesome, (full blown panic) NO!! I mean, I’M awesome! (reiterate) No, I mean, I’M not awesome, I’m just awesome, (shit) I’m good. (sigh) thank you Tory’s mo.. er… Mrs. Sanders.” He was almost out of the woods but got caught glancing again. “FOR the beer I mean!!”

Mom stood arching her back a bit, made a click sound with her tongue and winked at Jeff, “Sure sweetie, anytime.” Both Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were chewing holes in their cheeks trying not to laugh. “Okay boy’s” (big emphasis on boy’s) “Down the beer’s and start moving, Why does it smell like candy in here?” Dad had smelled sweets.

Denise, who followed mom back into the house stopping long enough to giggle a comment before hitting Tory’s room, “You know he’s going to’ be hard for like a week now right?”

Mom threw a tea towel at her, “Your welcome kiddo!” the teenager scampered up the stairs laughing. Twenty minutes later the organ was in its new home, and being observed from the balcony outside Tory’s room.

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Jeff was holding his toke in as he passed the joint, “The things cool, a little creepy, but cool.”

Denise inhaled her portion and moved it along, “It looks fucking haunted to me.”

Tory finished off the joint, swallowing the roach. “Now that would be a friggin’ birthday present. A ghost for Halloween!”

The instrument was indeed haunted. As Tory and Denise hovered over it trying to decide what was salvageable and what was fodder for the garbage truck. Geff could have cared less, he had no internet at home so was happily cruising away on Tory’s laptop. None of them could have known Tory’s organ spirt had moved to haunt an entirely different type of organ.

Dad had come up behind mom giving her a waist hug telling her, “Ghost tower is not too shabby, sexy.” (Sniff) “Did you make candy?” Mom swung around in dads grasp to face him.

“No. You want to tell me why your truck smells of it?”

He ignored the question in favor of rolling his wife’s big, gem hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Pretty sweet candy corns you got going on here.” Mom gave a small gasp and Mr. Sander’s spun her around to her original position, lifting her skirt. “They’ll be up there for a while.”

“You can’t be serious?” His response was to separate her legs with his knee, find the goal, and with a grunt, (no panties as always) drive in. Mrs. Sanders responded between clenched teeth, “FUCK!”

Upstairs the kids jumped. The organ had made a audible sound, not unlike mom’s, ‘Fuck’ downstairs.

“I thought you said it couldn’t make sound Tory?!”

“Not my call, dad told me that. Geff, did you hear that?”

While the questions flew around upstairs, in the kitchen mom had lifted her knee to the countertop, allowing her husband access to pump away like a pile driver. Amid ‘fuck’s’ ‘shit yeah’s’ and assorted animalistic sounds, mom was able to state, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I hope it stays for a while.” Dad ruttishly laughed.

Back up in Tory’s room, both her and Denise were now standing way back from the organ, eye wide.

Tory was pointing at the instrument, “That thing just laughed.”

Denise was rapidly nodding her head in agreement, “It’s fucking haunted.”

“Man, you two are baked.”

Jeff stood and walked to the organ, the floor in front of the instrument was wet, didn’t take much to figure it out. “Just because parts are missing, doesn’t mean it still can’t function. Yesterday it rained, last night we got a hard freeze that stuck, you plugged it in and laid your purse on the keyboard: Boom. The key’s thawed out, weight of the purse pushed them down, TA-DA!…Soouuunnnd.”

A deep, throaty groan of “NOW” got mom’s knee off the counter. She slammed her heel into the linoleum while her hip’s shoved back onto her husband’s cock. His back arched as he gushed a volume into his wife. Mom yelled, “Fill Me!”

Upstairs all three teens now stood back wide eyed from the organ. The sound had been easy to explain, the white goo starting to ooze from the fake pipe tops? Not so much. Surprisingly, Denise was the one to first venture forward and investigate the substance. She sniffed at first, “No-way,” pushed a finger in and brought it back to her mouth, sucking.

Both the wary teens admonished her actions, “Are you nut’s!?!”

Downstairs mom had dad’s cock in her mouth cleaning the sticky white fluid from its tip. Neither female could hear the other as they both exclaimed in unison, “Mmmmm tastes like marshmallows.”

The gummy, white ooze was more than just an unexplainable, sweet enigma. It had other attributes Denise was starting to feel. Tory’s room became a kaleidoscope of scent’s, sounds, and colors. A lusty heat radiated from her, enamoring both Tory and Jeff, mesmerizing them. Denise scooped up more of the goop, sliding a coated finger into her friend’s mouth’s, they groaned at the taste and soon were feeling the effects.

A thin sweat beaded on Tory’s face; her nipples ached behind the confines of her bra. In one fluid movement she unclasped and pulled the constricting device through the arm hole of her T-shirt. Jeff let out a low whistle and moved behind her, slipping his hands along her rib cage till he had a two handfuls of firm breast meat locked in his paw’s.

“SHIT!”

Tory yelped looking down to her jean covered pussy. Denise was munching at the denim with abandon, her warm saliva mixed with Tory’s flowing juices, It wasn’t long before she was moaning and grinding into Denise’s face. “I think we should rape her Jeff.” A giggled response of, ‘It isn’t rape if it’s craved for’ was cut mid-sentence by the same voice.

“What the fuck?” Jeff and Denise stopped their groping looking to where Tory was pointing.

The organ had reconstituted itself, and then some. Not only were the missing keys and rocker switches back, but the finish had taken on a purple/green shimmer. It was glowing and taunting the three to approach, so crawling tentatively, they did.

Closing in to around six inches, Jeff started to stand when he got slammed in the forehead by a drawer that flew open from nowhere. The bottom left of the organ had been seamless until then. “Fuck me!” He sat rubbing his head as Tory, not wanting to get any closer than necessary, looked from a distance inside. What looked like a large, parchment candy wrapper was inside.

Somewhere along the line Denise had decided to shuck her jeans and again took the lead in the investigation. Tory licked her lips as her friend’s creamy ass cheeks and cotton covered puss slinked by her. Denise retrieved the ‘wrapper’, read it, and became visibly confused, “That’s odd.” Then raptured. “OH!! ooooh…mmm yeah.”

In order to examine the drawer’s contents, Denise had to straddled Jeffs face. Long over his forehead incident, he was now working, with staunch determination to orally rid her musky clam of the nasty cotton.

Tory rolled her eyes snatching the paper to read it herself,

‘Pumpkin vines that titty tie,

Red licorice floggers fly,

Sticky Taffy cuffs restrain,

Melting chocolate nipple pain.

Jumbo jaw breaker gags,

Bubble gum sticky thighs,

Peanut brittle clitty clips,

Ghostly gallon’s part your lips.’

A disconnected line read, ‘Play me, Sing me. We all get free.’

“Sounds like Mr. Wonka’s been hitting the bondage porn to hard.”

“Tory… (uhhh) …there’s… (fuck, fuck, fuckity) …more paper.”

A music sheet had appeared In the drawer.

Keyboards had been Tory’s thing since dad and her had watched ‘Phantom of the Paradise’ years ago, she loved the theatrics of the Phantom when he played. This music in her hands wasn’t hard to play and was very theatrical. Denise and Jeff had planted themselves directly in front of the organ, and she wasn’t interested in trying to move them, so just plopped the organ bench over them.

“Not fucking likely girl. Drop the jeans, then you can sit and play.” Tory juiced a little at Denise’s orders,

“Fine by me.”

She peeled off her jeans planting her ass cheeks halfway off the front of the bench. Both arms raised in preparation for an exuberantly displayed first chord, Denise maneuvered and waited to rhapsodically suck the living shit out of Tory’s clit when it sounded.

Arms came down,

Denise latched on,

Jeff kept chomping on,

and Tory, blissfully orgasmic, played and sang the bizarre tune.

In the kitchen, mom was ass up, her head yanked back as dad roughly plowed away at her rosebud with his haunted organ. Their indecent sounds and language did little to mask the song from upstairs. Sweetum’s, giddy beyond belief, was quickly to repossess his upstairs organ haunt.

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As Tory hit the last chord all three teens were thrown against the wall directly across from the organ. Their original compromised positions had rendered them into a very unflattering, tangled heap, of arms and legs. To say they were a bit disorientated was a gross understatement, in fact none of them even noticed their new guest until he spoke, “Ello kiddies!! Sweetum’s the name!” It took all of two seconds for them to immobilize against the wall when they saw him…all seven feet of him.

The organ spirt was not grotesquely formed, he was, in fact, nothing but sweets. An inverted candy corn head was topped with cotton candy hair, swirled lollypops made up his eyes. Bits of black licorice, (some missing) sat nestled between crimson lips of puffed icing and made up his teeth.

There was no clue as to what his body was made of a candy cane striped tux hid all of that. His hands though, they were unnerving. Elongated fingers, made from all manner of broken candy dangled from his sleeve cuff’s. Gnarled knuckles of walnut infested malt balls broke up what eventually ended in thick, burnt, almond nails.

The kiddies were in a state of shock, and as such. Completely boring. “Right then.” Without warning he let loose with a spine cracking cackle of laughter.

“Scared the right piss out of you didn’t I, eh?” Denise was slack jawed, her mouth in a lascivious ‘O’ shape. “Right with you love.” From the crotch of his pants winged a sour gummy penis, it drove into her mouth and down her throat, all the girl could do was blink. Jeff tried to make a dash for the door, “Not so fast old son.” only to be snaked down by a bolo of jaw breakers and twizzler ropes.

Tory hadn’t moved, she was scared, but that’s not why. It was more the fact she’d been cuming nonstop since she saw him. He knew that and silkily moved his face in front of hers. “Chuffed to bits on meeting you love. Cor’, got me a dandy new mistress.” One of his almond fingertips lifted up some of what her saturated jeans couldn’t hold back. “Lovely.”

She bolted; her shriek sent his eyes whirling. “Crikey. Best steel your knicker’s! A touch weird down there yeah!” As far as she was concerned anything was better than her room right now. That thought changed fast. Tory gasped; the kitchen was destroyed. Mom’s center piece was a kaput mound on the floor. Cookies, pastries, bags of flour and sugar were all strewn about.

A strange clunking sound was coming from the pantry, she put her ear to the door and heard muffled voices, what she saw when the door was flung open caused her to stumble back on her heels. Her parents were the source of the sounds, they were bumping and careening off everything. Why? Mr. Sweetum’s upstairs had turned their heads into bubble gum balls. “Son of a bitch!” She made it back up faster than she had down.

“Dude, what the? hell…?” Denise was swinging by her ankles and wrists, suspended from the celling by stringy ropes of toffee. She was swaying back and forth like a pendulum, her mouth held open with a life saver ring gag. Each backward swing saw her ass and pussy impaled by a rock candy penis; the forward motion caused her to be throated with an even larger gummy penis than before.

Jeff’s hands were gripped behind a beautiful, fondant candy stripers head. He was forcing his cock as deep as it would go and visible shaking at the knees. Part of the poor girls’ neck had melted from all the hot cum he was pumping down it.

“Got them all by the bollocks then! Tickety-boo right mistress!?” Sweetum’s was overjoyed with his handy work.