I'm Eddie and I died of a heart attack aged thirty-nine. Thirty-nine for God's sake! But I'm not sorry, 'cos that's when I started to enjoy myself. I'll explain. In life I suffered from a debilitating illness, I could hardly walk, had difficulty speaking, and needed help with my bodily functions - I don't need to expand on that, do I? The result was that I hadn't been out for years, had no sex life, and met almost nobody apart from my career. But ghosts don't have those problems and so now I'm free, free to have fun - and I do!
Of course, at the time I didn't understand what had happened, all I knew was that I had a terrific pain in my chest and then passed out. When I came round I found things very different and most confusing. The first thing I noticed was when I got up and went into the kitchen for a drink of water - I was walking normally! I stopped dead and looked down at myself. My legs were now straight and strong, I couldn't believe it. I filled my drinking cup with water, and on impulse I left off the drinking spout that I would usually need and tried to drink properly from the cup for the first time in years! Then I found that although I could get the water into my mouth like every normal person (so my mouth was back to normal), I couldn't swallow it and I ended up spitting it out. I tried a second cup with the same result and then gave up, and I've never been thirsty since. I was completely baffled by this turn of events, but not complaining about the legs and lips, you understand.
I went back through into my room and came to a sudden halt again. There in my chair was a twin brother I didn't have, except that this twin had the twisted legs, withered arms, and drooping mouth that I normally sported. But before I could ask him what he was doing there, Joan, my carer, came in, looked at my twin and began screaming! I told her to shut up, but she totally ignored me and went running out of the door. Right then I began to understand that something was not quite right, but it wasn't until I stood unnoticed and watched ambulance men and police come and take away my 'brother' that I figured out that someone was dead and it could just possibly be me!
When the penny finally dropped it freaked me out a bit, you know? But I was fortunate, because another guy came into the house about then and he could actually see me! It turned out that was because he was dead too, but at least he could clue me in on things. Now, so that you know, let me tell how it works. If you die suddenly, before the guy upstairs (or downstairs) is expecting you, then you're kept hanging about while they sort out their scheduling. Trouble is, time is not the same to them as it is to us, so it can take years and in some cases even centuries! Meanwhile, you stay put on earth as a ghost. You can interact with any nonliving thing that had existed when you were alive, and just a few living things. What I mean by that is that most people don't know you're there. Apparently only about three percent of the living population are sensitive to those of us who've 'passed over'. Of this three percent, more than half are only conscious of a presence, but can't see you, and while the remainder can see and/or hear you. Then there are the occasional one or two can actually interact with you as a solid being, but they are rare and they can't always see you! Oh, and those percentages are more than double for animals, especially dogs.
The guy who told me all this, his name was Julian by the way, had died by electrocuting his stupid self dropping an electric drill in a bucket of paint and then reaching in to pick it out! He wasn't amused when I suggested we gloss over his death! No sense of humour, some people! Anyway, he'd seen the ambulance and had come in just in case there was a new trainee ghost who might need help adjusting. Too damn right there was!
He stayed with me all that night and into the next day, talking me through the crisis that is death and helping me cope. He was bloody good at it too, 'cos by the time he left the next afternoon I'd pretty much come to the conclusion that I was better off dead! He'd also given me some tips on how to get fun out of it, and that's what I'm gonna tell you about. What'dya mean about time?
One thing he'd said had rung a bell with me and that was that "If you've got voyeuristic tendencies, the being a ghost is a Godsend! You can wander in and out of ladies changing rooms, bedrooms, even ladies toilets if that's your bag, and you'll never get caught!"
As it happens I do have voyeuristic tendencies, so my ears perked up when I heard that. You see, with an illness like mine, for years my sex life had consisted of porn and a left hand (my right didn't work so well!) and I had developed a sort of 'watch rather than do' mentality. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a virgin. As a teenager and before my condition got too noticeable, I had girlfriends and I'd begun to have sex, but that didn't last and I never managed to explore my full potential. I think I'd probably have been quite kinky if I had. Even after I got to where I couldn't cope on my own, a few of my carers have been willing to help me out a bit. Mostly it was a quick wank, but couple of them have laid me on my bed and fucked me 'girl on top', and Cathy, the one before Joan, had given me the best (because it was also the only) blow job I ever had!
Anyway, to cut a long story short, using my new found mobility and freedom, over the next few weeks I got to see more tits and cunts than I'd seen in my whole life, and I'm in the position for that statement to be literally accurate! I visited store changing rooms, the tennis club shower rooms, the sauna, oh - everywhere that pussy might be on show. I had to be a little bit careful going in and out of these places, because a door opening and closing on its own does tend to throw some folk, so I'd follow a live one in or out! But, all in all, I had absolutely no problems - so much for the six percent so-called psychic sensitives. I did meet a couple more of us dead ones, but they just acknowledged me and went about their own business, so I didn't push it.
Silly as it may seem, it wasn't until I spent a couple of hours in the local brothel that I realised I'd see more action if I visited bedrooms. I guess every ghost comes to that conclusion sooner or later and that probably accounts for the living seeing more ghosts in their bedrooms at night than anywhere else. So, from then on, I became much more nocturnal. Pretty soon I worked out a kind of schedule, I knew that the couple next door but one always had sex on Sunday afternoon (appropriately enough for the Sabbath it was always in the missionary position), the blonde woman on the corner had her lover call every night on alternate weeks when her husband was on nights, the black couple opposite had it away with the light on at least four times a week as soon as they went to bed at close on eleven pm, and the young couple in the flat over the newsagents were at it most of the time! And there were others.
Then one night I found the blonde had locked the door before I got there and I couldn't get in. That's the problem with things that were there before I died, I can interact with them as if I was still real - and in fact I have to! Its only things that were put up after my demise that I can walk through in true ghostly fashion, as if they weren't there!
So anyway, I went searching for something new, and found a gorgeous red head in her mid twenties lying on her bed, legs akimbo and playing with the biggest vibrator I'd ever seen. She was well away, driving that vibe in and out of a very wet pussy and yelling fit to bust. Obviously an orgasm was close. It must have been very close too, for within a minute or so she began bucking wildly, raising her arse off the bed and arching her back so that only her shoulders and feet were touching. Then, as she actually came, she screamed an almighty 'yeesss', thrashed her head about and then collapsed back onto the bed breathing like she'd run a marathon. The sight seemed so ridiculous to me that I burst out laughing. Luckily she was one of the people who sense nothing and she never heard me.
She must have wanted to carry on for another climax, because she left the vibrator merrily buzzing away in her cunt while she got her breath back, and then began to gently massage her clit. I watched this spectacle for a while until she was once again on the climb towards another orgasm, then for some reason I'm not sure of - perhaps just innate mischievousness - I leaned over her, grasped the vibe by its base and gently pulled it from her cunt, leaving it vibrating away on the mattress. Presumably she thought it had slipped out of its own accord, for with a muttered 'sod it' she stopped strumming for a moment and put it back in.
What did I do? Well, what do you think I did? I left it until she started back along the path to pleasure, and pulled it out again! Once more she cursed and replaced it, only to find it back out of her cunt within minutes.
By now I was giggling fit to bust, and by now you'd have thought she have begun to smell a rat, but no! Back it went, though this time she did hold it in with two fingers of her free hand. Ok, so I couldn't pull it out again, but I wasn't beaten. Carefully using one hand to hold it still, I used the other to switch it off! It took a moment or two for her to realise it had stopped, but when she did she reacted by pulling it from her pussy and hurling it across the room, missing my shoulder by about a foot.
