It is hard to believe it feels good. I mean, a woman is soft and warm inside as well as moist. His hand is so rough and dry." Emelda, you need to lose...the dress and straddle him. When he starts to groan lower yourself onto him, okay?"Simon didn't notice our odd discussion because we had both been dead for nearly 150 years and were ghosts. I was a sex ghost. I gained energy from sex—predominantly in the form of guy's cum. Emelda was a grave ghost, she gained energy from everyday life around her. He felt her hands explore every inch of him; she clamped his nipples and stretched them to tie them to the gate he could not move, then the first strike of the cane.He was surprised no pain a sting then warmth.Again a new place the same.Then He moved as she re-hit an original strike place his body tried to pull away it hurt .She carried on at her pace slow measured every hit counted and she often revisited sites that made him move.He was sweating fighting the pain tied not to be able to run. ‘I feel so much more at ease there!’ she said smiling, holding the massive weight of her breasts in the palms of her hands. ‘I don’t have to squeeze these things into totally inappropriate clothes. But Twelve, you’d just feel so odd there. No fashions to follow. And you look so divine at the moment. What a cute beret!’ Innocence was dressed in just shorts and a tee-shirt. Twelve had had no success at all in persuading her to shave off any more hair than that which she was already taking off her. Soon, what started as innocent touching and rubbing, turned into needy, wanting strokes as our hands entered the scene. The moment became so super hot, we lost touch of our surrounding area. Feeling as if we were all alone, we continued to enjoy each others, soft, sensual touches. Uncontrollably, caressing and rubbing one another more and more. Teasing each other almost to the point of exploding. Watching all the wiggling and squirming is driving me wild, I know one of them has to have a wet.