I twisted my wrist at the head the way I liked it, that extra rotation that made my breath catch, that made my hips buckinto my fist. The conditioner made everything silky-smooth, my hand gliding effortlessly as I increased the pace.
My free hand dropped to cup my balls, rolling them while my cock leaked steadily over my knuckles. The water pressure pulsed against my back in rhythm with my strokes, like something was learning my tempo, following my lead.
“You get off on this, don't you?” I gasped, my hand moving faster now, adding that slight twist at the base before dragging up to the sensitive head. “Watching me fuck my fist because you won't let me fuck anyone else?”
The temperature shifted, warmer where my hand moved, like invisible fingers were tracing the path of my strokes. Following my movements. Learning my body.
I let my head fall back against the tile, water cascading over my face as I worked myself. My cock was rock hard now, flushed dark and throbbing in my grip. I could feel precum pumping steadily from the tip, could feel that familiar tension building in my balls.
“Wish you could actually touch me,” I panted, my hand flying over my shaft now, chasing release. The slick sounds of my fist were obscene, echoing off the tile. “Wish you could wrap your hand around my cock. Feel how hard I get. Feel how much I leak when I'm close.”
The phantom sensations intensified, something like breath against my neck, almost-touches trailing down my spine. The shower steam swirled in patterns that might have been fingers, might have been hands.
“Bet you'd love it, wouldn't you?” My voice was wrecked, desperate. “Watching me take your cock? Feeling how tight I am? How fucking hungry my hole would be after all this time?”
My free hand left my balls, moving behind me, fingers circling my hole. I pushed one finger inside, then two, fucking myself on my fingers while my other hand worked my cock.
The stretch felt good but not enough. Never enough. I needed more, thicker, longer, the weight of someone else's body pressing me into the tile. But I had my fingers and my imagination and whatever ghost was getting off on watching me fall apart.
“Fuck, I need it,” I gasped, adding a third finger. “Need to be filled. Need someone inside me. Need—fuck!”
I found that spot, my prostate, and nearly screamed. My cock jerked in my hand as I pressed hard against that bundle of nerves while my other hand flew over my shaft—fast, desperate, chasing the orgasm building in my spine.
“Gonna cum,” I warned nobody and everybody. The air was electric now, charged with supernatural arousal that fed my own. “Gonna cum so fucking hard. Wish you could feel it. Wish you could taste it. Wish—”
My orgasm hit like lightning. I came with a shout, my cock pulsing in my grip as I painted the tile wall with thick ropes of jizz. Wave after wave, my hole clenching rhythmically around my fingers, my prostate throbbing with each pulse.
Every light in the bathroom flickered in response, like supernatural applause. The water pressure surged, then settled. And when my vision cleared, the mirror had fogged over completely except for one clear spot shaped like a handprint, fingers spread wide.
Someone had been pressed against the glass, watching. Close enough to touch if they'd been solid.
“Thanks for the show,” I panted, slumping against the tile, my legs shaky. My fingers slipped free from my hole, leaving me empty and already aching for more. “You know, we could work something out if you'd just learn to share. Or actually talk to me instead of throwing tantrums.”
The bathroom door opened and closed gently.
Ghostspeak for “conversation over.”
But there was something else in the movement.
Something almost like longing.
I was lying in bed, scrolling through hookup apps and trying not to feel pathetic, when the notification popped up.
Eli, 29, 0.3 miles away
The profile photo was him at Pike Place Market with that purple vest and that knowing smile.
Tarot reader, medium, house cleansings. Also looking for fun
Wait. Medium? House cleansings?
I sat up so fast I nearly dropped my phone. That was the guy from the party. The one with the fingers I wanted inside me.
But if he was actually a real medium...
Before I could overthink it, I swiped right.
It's a match!
