Haunting Experiences

By Jerry Kalman

In this erotic novel, Dan Abrams is visited by two ghosts who can’t keep their lusty hands off each other. The problem is two-fold: they are his long dead parents, and the two of them want him to help locate where they were buried by authorities after a helicopter crash that took their lives. The search for their bodies triggers a series of erotic memories and incidents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jerry Kalman
• Release date: Oct 2, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452350271

Jerry Kalman

Hot steamy stuff is the forte of JL Kaye, author of “Cascade Nights”, "Friendly Fire" and the short story "Nanoelf of the Roses". Kaye also has published another erotic novel “Haunting Experiences” and Free Radicals is nearly ready for publishing as an eBook in 2011. Other than the fractured fairy tale about the nanoelf, Kaye’s erotica centers on the sometimes private lifestyles of professionals who want more from romances than kiss-and-not-tell. In 2011, JL Kaye expects a fourth work consisting of a broad collection of sci-fi, western and romantic short stories to be published as an eBook.J. L. Kaye lives north of San Diego.

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Haunting Experiences

By

JL Kaye

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 JL Kaye

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

1.

Slurping, heavy-breathing, a soft moan, followed by an obvious sigh of post-coital relief echoed through Dan Abrams’s bedroom, awakening vivid images of his first sexual experience when he helped Winnie have an orgasm. She talked him through it, every step of the way. From it he lost his virginity.

Dismissing the erotic bedroom activity as probably coming from a next-door neighbor, he kissed off the night sounds and packed a pillow around his ears to go back to sleep and ignore further sensuous sounds that reflected someone else’s satisfaction. With his wife Sarah away until the following week, he’d wait before adding his brand of nocturnal sounds with those of the neighbors.

The aural invasion occurred the following night at the same time, one AM. When he looked across the gap that separated his place from the next door neighbors in his quiet southern California suburban community, Dan saw the Wilsons returning home. Can’t be Rachel. He said, abandoning his supposition that their college-age daughter entertained some young stud and they cut their tryst too close. Dan returned to bed, annoyed he guessed wrong about the source of the erotic noises. To fall asleep, Dan melded both episodes into one scene and imagined the attractive young lady entertaining and then flushing her beau from the house as both dressed in a hurry.

Though aroused by the scenario, he also chuckled at the humor of it.

On night three, the sounds intensified; and the couple took each other to a higher level than before.

It’s not them next door. Can’t be, at least not those two all the time; no one has that kind of patience much less staying power. Thinking over the latest episode, he guessed the lovers’ voices belonged to a couple older than the Wilson’s daughter. Dan listened as muffled words of passion and endearment flowed back and forth and pictured an overheated couple exploring each other, enjoying themselves, making sure the world knew it.

Straddled across the bed, his feet well into his wife’s side, his head at his end, hand stroking himself up and down, conjuring up another woman from his past, he said: Showoffs! in his best stage whisper and grabbed his wife’s pillow to press it into his face and inhale her scent. Letting his fantasies fill in the blanks, Dan created an erotic experience for the phantom lovers as each sound from their love-making exploded into his bedroom.

Somebody’s on drugs, male enhancement, something! No mortal can stay with it that long and that often, he whispered between gasps for breath. Whatever he, she or they are taking, I want some.

The woman twice howled with a shriek of pleasure that Dan figured rattled windows throughout his suburban neighborhood, perhaps even waking the dead in a cemetery several miles away. Her simpers descended lower and lower in tone, ending with a languid sigh. Dan drooled into Sarah’s pillow. He didn’t care. Someone else has got to have heard what I did, he thought. When his breathing returned to normal, Dan tossed the top sheet back, slipped out of bed and scanned nearby homes, hoping to spot and perhaps even embarrass a neighbor. The street remained lifeless at that late hour.

Eyes wide open and locked on the ceiling the next night, Dan waited for another sexual interlude. Disturbed because of the apparent nearness of the lovers, repetition of the incident at exactly the same time three evenings in a row, and the desires it ignited in him, Dan had to determine the source to see who had such insatiable sexual appetites. He hoped to find that man and woman attractive; though he worried that their appearances might disappoint him. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if they were uglier than sin?

Nothing happened on the fourth night. On the fifth night, Dan held an iPod to record every sound. He didn’t have a plan on what to do with the recording, he wanted something to play for Sarah when he brought her into his confidence about the incidents.

Nothing happened the fifth night either. The watched pot syndrome, he announced in a loud voice. Then he lowered his voice and said: It’s gotta be me. I’m too damned determined to catch them; and that must be why they’re taking these nights off. He wanted his comments to ignite action through reverse psychology if those lovers performed near enough to hear him. Another sleepless and soundless night brought him to Saturday, the iPod resting on his wife’s pillow ready to record, batteries recharged each day.

Infuriated one moment, frustrated the next, he focused suspicions on the randy bachelor across the street, thinking: the lizard is indecently screwing some chick in my yard! Dan envisioned Bruce walking away after he and his companion came. I bet I’ll see condoms in the gutter tomorrow morning. More fantasies came and went increasing Dan’s anxieties to the point that he had to catch him, them.

At dawn, Dan raced outside, picked up the local paper and looked for used condoms, but saw none in the gutter, raising his disappointment and frustration another notch.

Seven days after Dan heard the first nocturnal sounds, Sarah returned home with their two kids from her annual family visit up in Los Angeles. Since that first evening, Dan debated whether or not to mention what he heard to her and how much to share.

Based on the bedding, you missed me, Sarah said, smiling.

I can explain.

Don’t bother, honey. I hope your fantasy was about me. The tall, attractive blonde turned away, hummed a tune and carried a full laundry basket downstairs.

After the kids fell asleep, Dan and Sarah made love, following a 15-year pattern that celebrated coming back together after separation. They started with cuddling after which they moved into more intense intimacy and foreplay that increased each other’s pleasure on the path to a heightened arousal before boiling over into passionate sex. Dan stroked her backside, his fingers sliding down her spine into the space between her cheeks. As their lust grew, hands intensified manipulating more sensitive erogenous zones.

Dan kissed her neck then nibbled Sarah’s ear lobes before sliding down where he lingered on her full breasts, perfectly round pink nipples hardened like he liked them, and then further on to the moist area between her thighs, steps that got her to rock back and forth before arching her back to raise her pubic area higher off the bed, signals he recognized for when she neared a climax. Her hands grabbed his erection and pulled him closer to her. Sarah rolled on top, taking him deep inside.

Oh, Dan, it’s in so deep, so deep. She gyrated back and forth, rubbing her pubis against his. As always, Dan waited until Sarah came, a moment marked by herky-jerky muscle spasms, deep guttural moans and her palms beating a rat-a-tat-tat on his chest. When exhausted, Sarah folded down and toward him. Dan then thrust his hips up, lifting Sarah off the bed as he squirted seed well up into her.

Oh, my man, my man is in me. She clenched her knees against Dan’s ribs, holding him until he softened and slipped out. Moments later, she leaned to one side, slid off onto the sheets, gasping with shallow breaths. To test Dan’s depletion, she cupped his testicles in one hand and went down on him to encourage another erection.

Nothing happened. He thought: that’s all there is for tonight, I’m ready to fall asleep. Before slipping into blissful unconsciousness as Sarah gave him one chance for a second orgasm, he heard a repeat of the liquid sounds from several nights earlier when that other couple got it on. Still in reverie from Sarah’s lips moving up and down his penis, Dan accepted the slurping as from his wife as she coaxed stiffness back into his flaccid penis. When he reached down to pat her on the shoulders to indicate she could stop, the female’s moan started low and increased to a shriek.

He asked: Was that you?

Sarah lifted her head, her fingers still interlaced around his penis. Was what me?

The moan. Uh oh, it wasn’t her. It’s them again.

What moan, Dan? I didn’t do anything, I don’t think. Did I?

Oh shit, I hope Sarah hears it so I can verify I’m not lost in some pseudo-fantasy world of my own. I thought I heard someone moan, you know, like having sex.

Sarah lowered his penis to nest in his pubic hair. You must be hearing things, dear. I don’t think it was me; I don’t moan. Not that I know of.

No, it wasn’t like sounds we make.

Honey, I didn’t hear a thing, but then I wouldn’t when making love to you. I’m so focused on our pleasure that I blot out everything around me. What’d it sound like?

Now? Gotta delay, not the time for details. It’s too early. Should wait, instead, to hear if the moan morphs into something more intense, heightened passions, anything.

Well, yes, honey, if that’s what you’re trying to say. I’m confused. Did you or didn’t you hear something?

Guess it was my imagination. Never mind. That was good tonight, honey. We were as frisky as a couple of kids. Dan imagined Rachel from next door sucking on him and his penis hardened right when Sarah flopped back on the bed, her hand draped over his thighs.

Hmmm, delayed reaction by my Romeo. She fondled his g stiffy, leaned over, kissed the head of his nascent erection, lifted her head, looked at Dan and smiled: You super stud-muffin. She went back to work with lips, tongue and fingers. He fantasized about young nubile Rachel gyrating on her guy’s thighs. Dan came again on Sarah's upward stroke.

When depleted, Sarah’s tongue flicked to the corners of her mouth before speaking, her voice husky. That’s refreshing, seeing you so ready two times in one night. Been a long time, Dan. She rolled over, spread her legs, commanding: Honey, now do me again.

I …

Dan, I know you’re spent. You were great. Use your finger, your tongue, anything but please hurry before my mood fades.

Doing as instructed, Dan stroked her, almost knowing to the second when to expect those same Sarah-spasms that signaled success. She moved back and forth on the bed and arched her back, sighing in pleasure, raising and lowering her thighs in sync with his finger plunging in, over and under her clitoris. As the thrusts intensified and her climax neared Dan heard the moans again, only this time they sounded as close as Sarah. His hand slowed. Sarah grabbed Dan’s wrist and moved his hand with more force.

To their relief, she came in a series of spasms when the other woman’s moan went feverish. Then the phantom lady gasped, exhaled with a low purr, saying: man, you're awesome. A deep male voice replied: Oh baby, baby, baby, that was good. You are the best, so good.

You were, too, lover, she replied.

What’s that? Dan asked.

Through her own gasps for breath Sarah said: What’s what, honey? Then, after a long sigh, she asked: Did you hear me say or do something, or think I did? Catching her breath, Sarah sat up and stared at him. Dan, what’s going on with you?

Nothing, honey. Guess I’m a little tense from work. His lie didn’t sound convincing to him and he didn’t expect Sarah to buy it, either. Getting out of bed, Dan said: I’m going downstairs to get some water. Want anything from the kitchen?

No thanks, Dan, I’m wiped out. She yawned, spreading her arms wide, almost flattening her large yet still well-formed breasts. He liked that and almost returned to stretch out alongside her and nibble on those firm nipples; however, Sarah’s rapid descent into sleep quelled any urge. He walked out of their bedroom, downstairs and into the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the tap.

The cold water forced him to drink slowly, and he drifted toward the kitchen window and looked into the backyard. Dan almost dropped the glass when he saw two people floating on top of the water in the pool, mirroring the oral sex he and Sarah a few minutes earlier did to pleasure each other.

What the f … he stifled his voice before the words came out in a shout.

Both intruders looked at Dan and, while the male buried his face once again deep into her thighs, the woman flashed a languorous smile while maintaining rhythmic thigh thrusts. They then parted, floated and changed position to make love in the missionary position. The man’s rump lifted each time in response to her upward thrust. As she lowered her hips, he plunged in harder. With each push, she choked in delight. During the sexual sequence the two kept their eyes locked on Dan’s.

He tried to whisper in response. He uttered a hoarse croak, before finding his voice: My God, what are you two doing in my yard, my pool, my …?

The man looked up and replied: Danny, don’t be a prude. Your mother and I …

The words exploded through the kitchen window and stunned Dan, who never heard the end of the sentence. His mind froze; lips moved; nothing came out as he stared at the scene that came into sharpe focus to reveal what looked like naked replicas of his parents, dead now he thought for 30 years. And they’re doing it like Sarah and me, like we always do. To keep from blurting words that might be heard upstairs, he walked into the backyard to the edge of the pool and stared at them.

Don’t mind us; not that you would now.

Mom, Father? Dan’s jaw hung slack, eyes widened, his chin thrust forward and low.

Daniel, you might want to keep it down so your part of the conversation isn’t heard by your family or neighbors. Understand? After all, son, you’re naked as a jay bird.

You’re not … He lurched back into a normal stance as the chiding voice flooded him with memories from when Harry Abrams attempted to modify Dan’s behavior to conform to his tyrannical view of the world. An only child, Dan got it all.

By the way, I don’t have to be quiet, Daniel. You’re the only one who can hear us. We’re selective, you know.

Mom?

He’s right Danny, as always. Fran Abrams stroked her husband’s chest, letting her hand slide down between his thighs where she fondled his sac. Harry Abrams looked into Fran Abram’s eyes and smiled before lowering his body down to press against her. Confused, Dan couldn’t figure out if talking to two ghosts surprised him more than seeing his parents, Fran and Harry Abrams, having sex. Was that you I heard the other night, doing this?

Dan’s mother nodded, then pulled Harry’s ghostly penis from inside her and patted it. Next, she slid out from under Harry and stood shimmering on the surface of the water. In the few memories of his mother that remained after 30 years, Dan recalled her as an attractive woman with a stunning body she worked hard to maintain. If not for the helicopter crash that took their lives in 1980, he knew with certainty that even at 70-plus and, if still alive, she’d be a knock-out in her own way. Dan thought about his father, and while never the body-builder-type, the elder Abrams stayed trim even if long hours at an office left Harry flabby.

With Fran standing above him, Dan’s father shifted into a sitting position on the side of the pool. With legs dangling in the pool he responded: Yep, Daniel that was us, not the neighbor kid and certainly not the gay young blade across the street. He chuckled.

Are you saying Bruce is gay?

He’s not the randy guy you imagine him to be, son. But that’s neither here nor there. Harry looked up at Fran, scanned her lean body as she stood on the surface of the pool and leered at her. Your mother’s a helluva good-looker, son. Couldn’t get enough of her then; still can’t today. Requited love!

Well, I’m glad to hear that father. Now tell me, what are you two doing back here screwing like a couple of minks?

Aren’t you glad to see your parents, son? His mother put her hands on her hips. Instead of jiggling from the motion of her arms, her breasts pointed toward her son as they did three decades earlier.

They look like Sarah’s, well almost, now. Dan replied in a forced whisper: Yes, but not this way. I mean, you never made love around me or even made the noises you made those past few nights. How was I to ever know you …

Had sex, Daniel? His father used a tiny thrust to propel him alongside Fran. Instead of looking at Dan, Harry surveyed Fran and, with lechery on his face, came the beginnings of another erection.

Dan covered his eyes with his hand, not from embarrassment but from disbelief that he talked to two horny ghosts, his parents.

Daniel, is this too much for you to take? Should we go back?

Pulling the hand from his face, Dan answered: No, father, don’t do that. There’s so much to share with you. But you need to …

Stop diddling Fran, my wife, your mother?

Exasperation welled up in Dan like he used to experience encountering that same rigid and unyielding father when asking for a favor. Yes, ‘stop diddling’ her.

Fran, your son’s acting like your side of the family.

Oh, Harry, don’t be an asshole, especially so soon after that wonderful tryst we had here in Danny’s pool. She looked back at her son; the fire remained in her eyes from the sharp comment to Harry. Danny?

Yes? I feel like a ten-year-old, confused and embarrassed, caught doing something naughty. Ironically, my parents are the naughty ones. That thought struck him as funny and Dan chuckled.

What’s so funny?

Talking to ghosts, my parents, all of us stark naked, you in my pool, at some ungodly hour, watching you fondle each other. I mean, what else am I to take from this but humor?

Good question, Daniel. What do you think, Fran?

She scratched at the thin patch of blonde pubic hair that glowed in the dim evening light. Not sure, Harry. We did have a reason for coming back to Danny; but you screwed the memory right out of me and I can’t recall right now. As if the weight of the question took away some buoyancy, she sank into the water, stopping with her breasts pointing toward him above the water line. Harry, you know sex distracts me!

It’s not like you object, Fran. Harry sank to his ankles and stopped.

As his parents bantered back and forth, Dan took a moment and determined that watching a couple play with each other in his pool surprised him more than anything else. He hadn’t taken the full measure of conversing with a pair of poltergeists, Harry and Fran Abrams.

Hey! He whispered, louder than normal. They turned to look at Dan. Guys. Remember, you’re here, with your son. Dan saw his father stare, replicating one of those looks that signaled a rebuke coming. Fran Abrams placed a transparent hand on her husband’s shoulder, a gesture of restraint Dan recalled from among those she used often in the years before they died.

A light went on upstairs illuminating his backyard beyond the pool. The three Abrams gazed up toward the second floor.

Shit, I’ve …

Yes, Daniel, you’ve awakened someone. Want me to see who it is?

No, I don’t. It’s for me to deal with.

Ooh, touchy, touchy.

Dan considered breaking off the conversation, but the risk of losing his parents again weighed heavily and he thought it better to risk someone inside finding him in conversation with no one in the garden. He walked over to a chaise lounge, pulled off a protective cover and stretched out, arms folded, waiting for the apparitions to make a move or any member of his immediate family to appear. Neither happened. The scene froze. A toilet flushed; the light went out; his parents quivered; Dan made a move to get up, his father held a hand to restrain him.

Dan leaned back, refolded his arms across his chest and waited for what he remembered came next: the terror that followed his mother’s admonition: Wait’ll your father gets home. The thought of a repeat of any one of those moments angered Dan. Swinging his legs off the lounge, Dan stood up, surprising Harry and Fran with the abrupt move.

Where’re you going?

None of your business, father. Just to remind you, this is my home.

I know that.

And I’ll do what I …

His mother pleaded: Danny, don’t take offense. We know all that already.

Spinning around and taking a few steps closer to the pool to face them, Dan asked: Aside from trying to titillate me with erotic activities, what are you doing here? Why are you haunting me like this?

Ah, Daniel Abram’s legendary anger rides again. His father stepped up to the surface of the water and strode toward his son. In the past, Dan cowered when his irate father’s presence flooded him with fear. Instead, Dan took an equal number of steps forward, stopping at the edge of the pool, hands fisted. His mother elevated out of the water and raced in her husband’s wake to close the gap between them.

Dan wondered how fast a ghost-mother could move.

Hostile stares flowed between father and son and Dan figured part of what disturbed him most about the encounter with his parents: I am today roughly the same age they were when the helicopter went down. He recalled the report that came back to him after the accident that killed them and the other tourists on their way to an Alaskan glacier. I wanted to stay on the cruise ship and play with the little girl in the cabin two doors down from ours, not go off into the cold.

He flushed the scene from memory. So, what’s the deal? Why here; why now, why this?

What do you mean, son?

You know what I mean, father. What’s your reason for coming back?

Wanted to check in on you, Danny, Fran said.

Mom, that’s not it. You know it.

Careful how you talk to your mother!

Father, be careful how you talk to me. I don’t have to act now like I did 30 or so years ago. After all, you’re a corpse. The rebuke to his dead father felt good. It emboldened him.

Don’t remind me.

Danny, Harry, please don’t fight. You know that upset me.

Why the X-rated behavior? Is that how ghosts get people’s attention nowadays?

Isn’t that how the movies get yours?

Dan nodded. But that’s neither here nor there. Why did you two decide to suddenly present yourselves out of nowhere and do it like this? Dan pointed at their naked bodies.

What’s the matter, son, never see …

Father, I never saw you naked, nor banging each other like a couple of porn-stars.

Maybe it’s time you did, Harry replied.

Did what? See my dead parents bumping and grinding, sucking and …

Danny, wash your mouth out for what you’re saying!

Sorry, mom. After a pause, Dan added: That’s probably too much to ask, I mean, for you to explain your reasons after spending so much energy revealing yourself to me. Whaddaya say we all call it a night, or whatever you two do, and pick up the thread of this some other time. I’m tired, especially after the sleepless nights you put me through. Dan turned to go inside, feeling that his abrupt breaking off of the conversation might get one of his parents to spout a reason for appearing.

Danny, please don’t leave us like this.

Mom, sorry, again. I’ve nothing more to say now.

This may be our one and only time to talk to you, Danny.

Well, let’s let it be that. I love you and miss you.

That’s pretty cold, son.

Father, it may be cold, but considering the circumstances and how tired I am, it has to do for now. I gave you up for dead 30 years ago, had my sleep ruined for over a week with your nocturnal antics; and had wonderful sex with my wife.

Yes, you did a good job of stuffing her. She’s cute.

Harry!

Sorry, Fran. Harry Abrams turned to face Dan, who scowled. One more thing, son.

Father?

Happy Father’s Day.

Same to you.

Over the years after Harry and Fran Abrams' deaths