Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Ghosts and Ghouls and Sexy Spirits...OH MY!

by Jude Mason

I've written several stories about ghosts and adore them. Mine aren't always the spooks who simply appear, scare the living bejeebers out of you then fade into the ether. I like em when they stick around and do some real haunting. Even better, when they have a mystery to solve, help you solve it then hang around to enjoy their after life.

Let me start with a story my father shared with me years ago. When he was very young, he had a favorite Aunt who thought the world of him. They'd visit often and spend hours talking about things little boys talk about with Auntie's. He loved her immensely. When he was about 7-8, I'm not sure exactly, his Auntie died. Being as he was a youngster, no one wanted to tell him. He went to bed that night and slept soundly, until his Auntie appeared at the foot of his bed. From what he told me, they sat talking for a little while then she told him she wouldn't be able to see him again for a very long time. Course, being the young boy he was, it upset him. But, she explained she'd gone away and he'd see her again when it was the right time. That apparently soothed him and he went back to sleep.

The next day, he told him mom he'd seen his Auntie. She finally told him his dear Auntie had passed on, but he refused to believe her. He'd spoken to her, sat and talked for ages he said. I don't think he ever stopped believing he'd seen her.

A little spooky, but in a very good way.

Now my ghosties. No, I've never personally seen or talked to a ghost. But, I do love to think about them. The first book I wrote about a ghost was called, Roses Have Thorns. Here's a little blurb for you:

What happens when a whore hooks up with the wrong john? What happens when he murders her? You'd think she'd die; there'd be an investigation that went nowhere and that'd be the end of it, right?

Wrong!

Rose did all these things…both of them. The first Rose died and swore vengeance, somehow. When the second Rose died, something horrible, something supernatural happens and Rose comes back. Months pass, while she heals the body, transforming it into and searches for him. When she does, she takes her vengeance, and it's not sweet. Not sweet at all.

You see, there were two Roses, both killed by the same man. The ghost of #1 takes over the body of #2 when she dies. A shivery prospect for the bad dude in this one. Poetic justice can be a bitch sometimes...LOL I'm thinking Rose would be more along the lines of ghoul, but as I tend to just write these things and let someone else worry about that part, I'm not really sure.

On to the next of my ghosties. This would be Scropio Tattoo, one of my all time faves. And heres the blurb for it:

A tattoo is one of the most personal art forms that can adorn the flesh of a human. What happens when women are kidnapped and tattooed? What happens when those women die? And, what happens when the tattooist isn't alive? Jonathan Rorke searches for the answer these questions and others when his psychic talents lead him to the latest victim. Jessica Crane, latest victim, and the only one who's still alive. Why? Together, Jonathan and Jess have to find out who and why she's being tattooed, before her tattoo is finished and she becomes casualty number three.

In this book, the ghost doesn't realize he's dead, kind of. And he also doesn't realize his lady is dead, kind of. Without saying too much, I'll just tell you, he doesn't leave when he could.

Now that Jenna and I are writing together, we've found that ghosts are a topic we both seem to like writing about. Ethan's Choice, from the Kindred Spirits, our ongoing series of ghostly tales, will be at least four books long. Each will target at least one ghostly problem and we'll hopefully solve them as we go along. Whether the ghosts all leave is a different matter. Angry Annie's problem is solved, but she seems to like it at the Inn. I'm hoping she shows up a lot in future books.

I think ghosts are an entity we as authors can use in an enormous number of ways. The rules don't 'have' to apply. Some people say you can't touch a ghost, but in Scorpio Tattoo, the ghost is touched a number of times, by more then one flesh and blood character. No one complained. Ghosts live as long as you like, can pop in and out of the story, enter places and know things no one else can. I'd say they're a great way to solve mysteries. LOL


Oh, and then there was Ghost of a Chance. I had to wind this up by posting a snippet from that one.



ISBN: 978-1-906811-06-8
m/m, paranormal
Publisher: Total E-Bound
Publisher URL: http://www.total-e-bound.com/

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Ghost of a Chance
Made #2 at Total E-Bound's Fictionwise Page

From
Chapter One

Silken softness wrapped around his cock, sucking gently, exquisitely.

Robert shifted. Rolling onto his back, he stretched his legs out, barely conscious of being in bed, not really awake.

Wet suction pulled at his shaft. A tongue slid over the crown of his cock, the tip delving into the slit. His thighs eased open.

Yes, a dream. That’s what it is. A wet dream, a fantasy—a disembodied mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, all there just for his pleasure.

The suction eased, the lips barely skimming over his shaft—up and down, up and down. His hips twitched, his buttocks clenched, his thighs tightened. He splayed his knees wider. A tongue moved wetly up his shaft again. The sensation faded.

Excitement waned. He fell into deeper sleep.

A face appeared—dark hair tousled, thick brows with one arched more then the other, sideburns longer than fashionable. The nose had a bump in the middle. Eyes—brown, wide open, framed with beautifully long lashes—watched him. Lips—thick, moist, kissable—opened.

Robert’s hips moved, churned his ass into the bed. Soft sheets brushed against his shaft and its head wept and stuck to the material.

He reached for himself. A squeeze, a tug. He sighed and his slumber again deepened.

The beautiful, handsome face vanished, but the mouth remained. Lips, tongue, brushed the thick dome of his cock.

His balls shifted, moving up closer to his body. He clenched his ass. In sync, his hips rose, pushing his cock shaft further in.

Taking his hand off his cock, he reached lower and cupped the soft, nearly hairless sac below. Holding it, he pulled down on the two walnut-sized orbs.

He relaxed, his sleep deepened again. Time passed.

“You like that, don’t you, my love?” a soft masculine voice whispered huskily.

“Yes,” he hissed. Or I thought I did. Am I speaking? Am I dreaming? Does it matter?

The slickness of a mouth returned, nipping at the flesh along the length of his cock.

His shaft thickened instantly, if it ever actually had deflated at all. He was hard. He wanted to fuck.

He dreamed. The face was back. Thick lashes rose, revealing lust-filled, dark eyes looking up at him. The nose, a little too sharp at the tip, brushed his pubes as the mouth descended, taking him in to the hilt. Grunting, he basked in the feel of that lovely, soft, wet mouth engulfing his cock. The head touched, rubbed against the back of a throat.

“Yes,” he hissed again. Or is it the first time?

He shuddered, reached for the face, connected with…nothing, air, sheets. His fingers slipped over the cool silk fabric, gripped, clenched and held tight while his cock was lavished with gulping pleasure.

A chin nudged his ball sac, pushing the magic orbs to and fro. He arched his back, his fingers and toes curled tight, he was aching for release—half-asleep, half-awake, breathless with lust.

The face vanished. The mouth abandoned him.

Robert sat up. One of his hands rested on the bed behind him, supporting him, the other moved to his stomach. His cock pulsed against his palm. Glancing around, he peered into the corners, along the walls, the window shades drawn tight. He was alone.

He was fucking hard, needed to come. He was exhausted.

Peering at the clock on the bedside table, he saw the arms pointing at the three and the ten. It wasn’t ten fifteen.

Sagging, he fell back on the pillow. Too old for a wet dream, he told himself. Too tired to finish. Still he reached down and cupped himself, sighing. His thoughts wandered to the dream of the face, the mouth, those deep brown, smouldering eyes.

He sighed with pleasure.

Weird dreams. Fuck me dreams. Where’d they come from? His thoughts faded into nothing.

“Open your legs. Let me suck you,” the deep, masculine voice whispered.

He eased his knees apart, pushing his toes against the bundled sheets, spreading his legs comfortably wide. A shiver of pleasure raced up his spine. He slid his hands down to his sac.

“Yeah,” he murmured, more asleep than awake. His balls shifted.

A mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He didn’t have to move, he knew it, trusted his knowing. He simply lay there and enjoyed the wet suckling of his glans and the silken tongue delving into the oozing slit. His ass cheeks clenched. His anus itched. He wanted…something.

The face was there, the dark eyes peering up at him. Amused, teasing.

His cock pulsed, the head battering at the back of a throat, that man’s throat, swallowed, squeezed, released, deliciously held again on its way into his gullet.

A finger slipped back between his ass cheeks, searching, delving for the dark, moist hole nestled between his glutes. The digit slowly eased inside.

Groaning, he flexed his butt, his excitement growing, yet still he half-slumbered. A dream, it has to be a dream.

“Yes, you like this. You always liked it up the ass.” The smooth, masculine voice crept into his sub-conscious, pushing his excitement up a notch.

He wanted to shift, to push his hips up, to bury the deliciously wicked digit deeper into his hungry ass. Sweat trickled down his ribs. He felt that, or dreamed it.

“My sweet Daniel, let me fuck you the way we both love it,” the voice droned.

Who is Daniel?

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* * *

And that's my take on ghosts and their ilk. I hope you enjoyed and I'd love to hear your take on them. Have you ever had a ghostly encounter? Has anyone you know? Share with us!

Hugs

8 comments:

  1. Hi Jude,

    Great excerpt and interesting take on ghosts, very similar to my own! Imagine that...


    Jenna

    ReplyDelete
  2. Interesting stuff! Both the true stories and the fiction... lol ;)

    More interesting to me, though, because I'm a paranormal investigator! So yes, I've experienced plenty of unexplainable things over the years: being visited by a friend who committed suicide, the a freezing cold invisible hand grabbing a hold of mine, shadows, disembodied voices on tape...

    Probably one of my most interesting moments happened along a hiking trail near where I live in northeast Ohio. I was out with a few friends; they clombed up an embankment on to some railroad tracks as I stayed at the bottom. I heard someone walk past me on the gravel, yet I was entirely alone. After they came back down, we started heading back with me leading the way. I turned around, just in time to see a glowing foggy shape of a man behind them, walking off the hill leading to the railroad tracks. he proceeded across the path, vanishing just before reaching the other side. Had it been a living person, there would be nowhere for him to go. The other side of the path led to a rocky embankment, followed by the river.

    I actually have a book of true gay, lesbian, and bisexual ghost stories coming out in the fall. So... this all fascinated me. And sometimes, true stories are stranger than fiction!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Jenna,

    Yeah, yeah, you and I should have been sisters. Uh, whose mom do you think? *G*

    Hugs

    ReplyDelete
  4. I write true ghost stories (2 books now--third one due to the publisher next year) and fictional ones. And your three stories are all great takes on ghostly stories.
    On that Rose story, that would be a sort of possession, not ghoul. Ghoul are what people think are zombies in films nowadays. even the producer of Night of the Living Dead said that was what his monsters really were. Ghouls live in graveyards and eat living and dead too.

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  5. Ken,

    Wow, I would love to actually experience some ghostly visit. You've definitely had your share, and maybe mine too. I'll keep my eyes open for your book, it sounds like it's right up my alley.

    Thanks so much for dropping by the Grip!

    Hugs

    ReplyDelete
  6. Eeek! Hi Pamela, I think I prefer the possession thing then. Ghouls sound kinda gross and she didn't really eat the guy... well not really. LOL Ya had to be there, I guess.

    Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. And, congratulations on the books, both released and coming soon.

    Hugs

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  7. Just bought your Ghost of a Chance the other day. Read Roses a while back and Scorpio Tattoo is up there with my favorites.
    You write an awesome story lady.
    But Pink Ribbon will always be my favorite.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Hey Pat,

    Yes, well, Pink Ribbon had no ghosts, but I have to agree with you, it's one hot story. LOL I actually had a roll of pink ribbon in my sewing box and whenever I saw it, I'd smile this big smile. Hubby must have thought I was demented.

    Thanks for stopping by Pat.

    Hugs

    ReplyDelete