.where are you?"Nothing replied but theecho of my own voice.Then I noticed somethingon the floor, just outside the doorway. My jacket, folded neatly, ...n top of itwas a faded silk rose... Could a ghost be so romantic? Again I wondered if thishad been a sick joke, had someone got in there before us, heard ourconversation... No. I knew he was a ghost! The blood stains on his shirt, theway he was afraid of letting me see his face..the way he vanished, how only Icould see him... I pressed the rose. He pulled back, slapping his heavy cock against my face."I did not tell you to stop" he snarled as he shoved his cock back into my drooling mouth. It felt like hours before he finally pulled out of my mouth and pulled me up to my feet by my hair.He marched over to the bed dragging me along behind him and yanked me over his lap. The first slaps were slow but hard. With each new slap he picked up speed until I was squirming and fighting to get away. I could feel him smile; this is what he. More

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