Ghost Twin

Paul’s Dreams

It was his smell! It was George’s smell! How was it possible? George had been dead for six months. But it was unmistakable. It was that mixture of smells of deodorant and sweat that he often brought home after having been competing and later having a shower. But he used to return home running and the deodorant mixed with his sweat and it was oh, so fragrant! Oh, my dear George, I will never overcome your death –I suddenly shouted with my eyes again a river of tears.

But I had to come to my senses. It couldn’t be George’s smell. Maybe his twin Caleb had been here visiting me, so I should look for him all around the house. Probably his smell was the same as his twin’s, my late husband.

As I moved around the house I thought again of George Foyer. He was only 23 when I met him. He started doing athletics and I was his coach and soon he was a champion in the long jump. Few people could defeat him. I used to see him hard when I talked to him and one day I asked him why he had those frequent boners. He went red in the face but admitted he was gay and he was always hard with me for I was really sexy, that’s what he told me. Then I told him I was also gay and that’s how everything started. Shortly after, I fell in love with George Foyer and when I told him, he happened to also be in love with me. We started dating and having sex and soon were living together till one day we decided to also get married. So George Foyer had been my husband till one day last June I was shocked when I had a phone call. It was the police. George had had a car accident and he was dead!

All this I was thinking as I wept bitterly in a fruitless search of Caleb. I soon saw there was nobody at home.

Caleb Foyer was identical to my late husband, only that he was heterosexual. He had a girlfriend, Mildred is his name. He also loves sport but he’s a gymnast, especially good in the vaulting horse. In the past six months we have seen each other sometimes, but scarcely. He loved his twin deeply and if we meet, he’s terribly depressed, and both of us have an awful time remembering George.

He’d died when he was 30, after we had been married for two years and I am also 30. I train people who are good at athletics, not only good in the long jump. I’m Paul Tennyson, and now without him, I live my days as best I can but always missing him.

Once I saw there was nobody at home, I returned to my bedroom. Living on my own, I used to sleep in just my briefs, but George’s wonderful smell lingered on my bed and I decided to sleep naked tonight and rub my cock on the sheets till I came. For the first time in the bitter last six months, I had something of George again, his smell, and I rubbed my hard dick on the sheets crying out loud: “you’re still here with me, my beloved husband, I love you” and I did cum on the sheets. I had just paid homage to my late husband. Now I had to try and sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I saw with some surprise that I was rock hard and I discovered semen on a part of the bed different from that where I came last night. So I had probably had a wet dream. My hair stood on end when I realized I’d just had a wet dream and it had been with George! But it was oh so vivid that I felt for the first time the ghost of my husband was accompanying me somehow. I felt it was not just a dream.

I remembered perfectly that he’d jumped naked into bed with me, as we usually slept, and after kissing me, he always started the same way. He started by licking the black mamba which I had tattooed in the cleft between my pecs. Then his wonderful tongue came down till he reached my hard cock and I felt again it was not just a dream. Somehow my late husband was now like a ghost who had actually sucked my cock tonight, just the way he used to do it, stopping a long while on the left area of my glans, he always started on the left, and then moving to the right area and when I was on the verge of cumming, then he did swallow my long dick completely and I soon got used to his wonderful blowjobs and I certainly managed to hold it for a quarter of an hour.

Usually I returned the favour later. He had no tattoo on his body but I also started licking his chest and finally I also gave him a wonderful blowjob. I shuddered again when I noticed I did have the aftertaste of semen in my mouth as if I had actually drunk the semen of my ghost husband. Before I met George, I had sucked some cocks. None when I matched him. But I remembered the exact shade of taste of George’s dick and it was that taste that still lingered in my mouth. I didn’t suck his cock the same way. I was always greedy to swallow George’s also long dick at once and thus I had him for almost twenty minutes whenever I sucked it. But I didn’t see enough semen on the sheets. It was as if the ghost of George had indeed swallowed my entire semen and when I had blown him, my semen was in fact the one I had spilled on the wet sheets.

For a week, it was almost the same. I always smelt him, his scent was always in my bedroom. I wanked over his memory, something I’d been unable to do for six months, and then I fell asleep. But I always woke up feeling we’d had two wonderful blowjobs and there was always semen on my sheets. My dreams always finished when I heard his wonderful deep masculine boy: “I will always be with you, my love. I’m still sleeping on our bed, Paul. You’ll always have me.” Of course I had never been with another dude since his death, but now I felt the love of my life was still with me, he would always be, and these dreams, I’ll call it dreams but for me it was realities with a ghost, were all I needed and I preferred having what I had, wet dreams or whatever they were, with my late beloved George Foyer.

For two weeks, it was always like this, till one night I also felt we were fucking again.

When I woke up one Wednesday, I remembered it was a Wednesday morning, I woke up really happy remembering that in last night’s wet dream George had really fucked me. But wait a bit! I am noticing right now a damp substance in my ass, so I inserted a finger and took it out stained with blood and semen. I briefly considered the chance that somebody could have broken into my house in the middle of the night and raped me, but no, I have a perfect security system and it was not possible. I also thought it was impossible that I had fucked myself. I knew there were boys who could fuck themselves or that’s what I could watch in some porn movies but though my dick is long I never thought that could be possible and I had never fucked myself. I had George’s cock instead and it was so hot to be fucked by my husband.

I was mostly a bottom but George also liked being fucked and my dream last night had been exactly what we used to do. We devoted some nights to blowjobs and some nights for fucking.

First he pierced my bottom ass moving his dick the same way he used to move his tongue when he sucked my dick. He entered me a bit and remained a couple of minutes on the left of my crack till I felt him moving his shaft to the right area. Then he pushed a bit in and again moved from left to right till some more of his cock entered me. He was driving his long dick slowly and patiently moving it left to right till finally he came when he must be in my intestines.

Now he turned and asked me to fuck him. George had such an arousing ass that even if I preferred him fucking me, it was a party to often enter that perfect hole of his and he yelled in pleasure and thanked me because even being a bottom, I still wanted his pleasure and fucked him. Then I bathed his crack with newly produced semen.

But the agreement we had for the days we were to fuck was that he would fuck me twice and I gave him my ass a second time, for George was young and athlete and didn’t get easily tired, and George knew that his second fuck should be as vicious as he wanted and I desired some pain now and even wanted to bleed. So now he drilled me like a jackhammer and I felt the pain his violent dick now caused me. I yelled but always asked him to continue and when he did cum at last, I always felt my ass was really bleeding now, just as I wanted whenever it was the night for fucking.

I continued having wet dreams with the ghost of my husband for a month till one day I got an unexpected phone call. It was Caleb Foyer and again I shuddered: his voice was also like his twin George’s.

-Hi Paul.

-Hi Caleb.

-I need to see you and talk to you about something which no doubt you will find stupid or maybe you will think I’m going crazy, Paul.

-Calm down and tell me, Caleb.

-My twin has been haunting me for two months.

-Maybe you won’t believe me, but me too, but only for a month.

-But I will understand that you don’t wanna talk to me when I tell you I have wet dreams in which I’m having sex with George and even with you. Now you’re shocked, I’m sure.

-I’m more open-minded that you can think, Caleb. I’m not shocked. But what about your girlfriend, how is she?

-I’ve left Mildred, that’s something I also wanna tell you. Oh, please Paul, you know my address, don’t you?

-I do, Caleb.

-Below my flat there’s a bar called Sidney Carton. A curious name.

-Sidney Carton is my favourite literary character, by Dickens. Have you read A Tale of Two Cities?

-I haven’t, why?

-You should read it and know, Caleb. It’s a wonderful novel and you’ll end up crying, totally moved precisely at Sidney Carton. Ok, Caleb, I’ll locate the bar tomorrow if you want and meet you there.

-At twelve a.m.?

-Perfect. I’ll be there. And please calm down: nothing can shock me. See you tomorrow then.

Thus ended the phone call and the next day I was really curious what my late husband’s twin would tell me.

Freedom can move your life and it can be seen even in the hardest conditions, together with love and friendship, happiness and beauty. Have a look at the life of eight beggars who live together at: https://luces-delatierra.blogspot.com/ or in English at: https://lightsoftheearth.blogspot.com/