Page 12 of Boo-ty Calls

Twelve

Archer

It’s been a few weeks since she’s had Mason over, and I want to know if she’s waiting for his return.

I’ve successfully been able to do more than knock water bottles out of the fridge, although the glow-in-the-dark jizz was shocking to me.

Fucking with her work has been my hardest struggle. Fine motor skills don’t seem to be a ghost’s high function.

Sloane loses her mind every time she finds more typos in her posts, though and I sit in her office and watch as she curses out the computer.

It’s boring being a ghost. I thought by now I’d be sucked into a bright light or hauled off to hell, but here I still am, and I have to wonder if it’s because of her or not.

I’m thankful she has stopped crying so much, but she shakes my box of ashes an awful lot.

“Fucking Archer, if you wouldn’t have been so fucking stupid, you could be here to serve me,” she yells out as she stubs her toe on her desk.

I wish for nothing more. Being her sub was the second best thing of my life, after being the love of hers.

“You’d like to put serviettes on the list?” Fellow calls out from the corner, I’ve been tinkering with it as much as I can to drive her crazy, but it seems to do it all on its own sometimes.

Sloane stomps out of the room, and I circle the desk to check for mistakes, not wanting to get her too riled up.

Even as I drive her crazy, I do have empathy and don’t want to make her lose her mind entirely.

Leaving the office, I head to the kitchen and move things around to remind her about her pills and to eat at some point.

I’d love to be able to cook for her, but every attempt hasn’t worked.

Ingredients fall on the floor, my fingers slip through the knobs on the stove, and the heat works against me. It’s always cold.

Climbing the stairs, I think about how to mess with her more. She senses my presence, but also doesn’t. Sloane talks to me constantly, but follows it with how crazy she is. I don’t think she knows I’m still hanging around, or that I watch everything she’s doing.

I’m proud of her for seeking out Mason, and I’m impressed with the dedication to have me watch even if it’s with googly eyes.

Although there has been no one new, I hope she doesn’t sit around and let her life pass by because of me dying. As much as I love her, I want her to find a new love and happiness with someone else.

“Do you like that?” her husky voice asks as I enter the bedroom.

Sloane is on the bed with one of our dildos suctioned to the top of my box of ashes. Of course I fucking like it, but I have to wonder if she lost the ashes could she move on.

Enjoying the view of her straddling the fake cock and squeezing her tits, my dick hardens.

She slowly sinks onto the length and moves up and down with her head back, her pink hair cascading, and I want nothing more than to ravish her.

I move over to the Fellow. Whispering into it, which works the way I want it to, after many failed attempts, I’m glad it’s working right now.

“Tweak your nipples, you know how much you love it,” the monotone voice rings out.

She snaps her attention to the circle glowing on the dresser, but lust is written across her face, and she takes her hands off her tits to pinch her nipples. Sloane moans, and rocks on the fake cock attached to my remains.

Her wetness pools on the base of the toy, and by her little moans, I know she’s getting closer, the flush of pink skin and shorter breaths.

“Rub your clit, cum all over that hard dick.” Monotone is less than sexy, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Running her hands over the front of her body until she reaches her clit and rubs gently, falling forward, her other hand claws at the sheets and Sloane thrusts back until she screams out.

“Don’t stop, do it again.”

She sits upright and lifts her legs into a squat before riding the cock. I want to be between her thighs, cleaning her arousal as the wetness squelches in the room.

Stepping forward, I rub my dick. Sloane’s eyes close as she pleasures herself, rubbing her clit harder. She groans before shooting up and squirting over the sheets.

Unloading on the same sheet, I leave the room for her to clean and for the Fellow to stop picking up my voice.

It would be a lot better if my spunk didn’t suddenly glow in the dark. I wasn’t given permission to get off, but it’s been too long, and I can’t hold out forever.

As she enters the kitchen, I open the cupboard for her favourite snacks, and she doesn’t even question the water on the floor anymore. I could learn to put it on the counter, but it seems fitting to stay consistent.

Sloane takes her pills and eats a granola bar, hardly enough to qualify as dinner, but I let it go for now. She walks around the house naked, checking that everything is locked before heading to the bedroom.

As I putter around cleaning the best I can, the giant horror figure she got me last year catches my attention, and I know what I’ll be getting up to tonight.