The Finger

by Budman

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© Copyright 2023 - Budman - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF; sex; oral; supernatural; mast; toys; rom; cons; X

(Authors Note: Not my usual BDSM fare. Just something I dreamed up one night. Enjoy.)

The Finger - an Erotic Ghost Story

Most people assumed that Arthur was injured or fell ill after Amy married him. People just didn’t understand the power of love.

Arthur contracted a rare, slow moving form of bone cancer in high school. He refused to give in to it and continued with his education even as the cancer attacked his spine and confined him to a wheelchair just before graduation. He insisted on registering for college, even though his doctors told him he would never graduate.

Amy met Arthur in Basic Calculus 204 when she held the door for his wheelchair and helped him move a chair so he could pull up to the table. When he realized she was struggling with the course he offered to help her. She found him smart, handsome, funny and a gentleman. She asked him out on a date, realizing that he wasn’t used to asking girls out. He accepted but before the appetizers even arrived he tried to scare her off by telling her all about his cancer. She didn’t run.

Arthur beat the odds and graduated with honors. Amy asked him to marry her. Arthur told her all the reasons marriage was a bad idea. She wouldn’t take no for an answer and despite his undergoing horrible rounds of chemotherapy at the time, and despite objections from both families, they were married just after graduation.

Amy insisted on a traditional honeymoon to a Cancun resort, and they timed it between chemo treatments. Arthur had to admit, it was better than he expected. His concerns about sex were completely resolved when Amy helped him transfer to the bed, stripped him then stood over him on the bed and did the most erotic strip tease he could imagine. Although Arthur could not get hard or feel anything below the waist, he was more turned on than he could remember being. For the next two hours Amy taught him everything about how to please her. She laid beside him head to toe and he stroked her to orgasm. She sat on his face, and he ate her to orgasm. She helped him roll over and put his head between her thighs and he ate her to two orgasms. And just when he thought she must be worn out, she pulled a penis vibe out of her suitcase and had him fuck her with it to another orgasm.

That night, Arthur learned the intense pleasure of just focusing on giving pleasure. It wasn’t that Amy was selfish, far from it. Amy knew there was erotic pleasure to be had from making your partner cum. And she stroked his chest and face, sucked his nipples, raked her fingernails down his arms. Arthur didn’t have an orgasm, and never would, but he had the best time of his life.

It was an amazing week. They enjoyed the beach, took a sea kayak out paddling (despite making the lifeguard very nervous), took a sunset cruise and enjoyed fantastic meals and drinks. They talked a lot. Arthur wanted to make sure Amy knew that this was temporary, and that once it was over, she should move on. Amy wanted to talk about the job Arthur had lined up when they got back, and how they were going to decorate their apartment.

The only negative thing all week was when well-meaning people would assume Arthur was injured after the wedding and try to say consoling things to Amy. She would get furious and usually rip them a new one. More than once, Arthur went back to apologize to people, explaining, much to their amazement, that Amy had married him knowing he was terminal. After a few such incidents, the guests and even some of the staff started avoiding them, which was just fine with Amy.

Arthur lost track of how many orgasms he gave Amy that week. Every night and sometimes during the day she taught him new tricks, new techniques and came until she was exhausted. She even had two under a towel on the beach with a dozen people around. And she was vocal enough that there was no doubt what was going on under that towel. When Arthur got embarrassed, Amy simply told him that she wanted to make sure nobody had any misconceptions about their marriage.

After the honeymoon, the couple had about a month of wedded bliss before Arthur took a turn for the worse. He had even started a new job as a data entry clerk with the State Government, which provided excellent insurance. But the cancer spread up his spine, it became hard to breathe, control of his arms started failing. Amy was by his side, at the hospice facility, when he took his last breath.

Several hours later, Arthur watched as the Hospice Nurse pried Amy’s fingers from his hand. He watched as they transferred his body to a gurney and wheeled it out. He watched as both his and Amy’s parents came to grieve and console her.

Arthur had seen lots of ghost movies. Usually, the ghost was confined to a ‘place’ until they settled some unfinished business in this world. Occasionally they were given a guide or advisor. None of that seemed to be the case with Arthur. First of all, he thought it interesting that he felt no pain, no fear, no anxiety. Everything would work out. Second, as Amy left the Hospice to go back to their apartment, he found himself, or his ghost he guessed, pulled along with her. It appeared that he could not leave her immediate vicinity and could easily float along, through walls, doors, elevators, and cars to stay near her. Third, and the most frustrating, she couldn’t see, hear, or sense him.

Arthur followed Amy as she aimlessly wandered around the apartment, fixed dinner, turned on a movie (but didn’t really watch it) and finally went to bed. He did what he always did when he was alive, he laid down beside her.

This went on for several days, people came to console Amy, she went back to work, but she did all of this just drifting sadly through life. It was tearing Arthur up. One night, after Amy went to bed he did what he would do in the short time they were married, he took a single pointer finger and stroked her pussy. It went right through her. But it gave him some comfort and so he kept doing it, stroking the air where his ghostly vision told him her pussy was lying. He did this for a few minutes for several nights before it happened.

Amy must have been in that twilight between wake and sleep. When Arthur stroked her, she gave out just the slightest of moans. Exactly the way she would moan when he would make love to her before he died. He tried again but before long she had drifted completely off to sleep, and he could see no further reaction to his finger.

Every night and some mornings for weeks, Arthur tried. He focused as hard as he could on making his finger solid. He strained. He went slow, fast, just above her clit, through her clit. He tried everything he could think of. After about a week of trying, he got another moan. Several days after that he saw her clit twitch, he was sure of it. After a few more days he could make it twitch every time and once thought he saw her vaginal walls contract. She was also getting more vocal.

Then, one night about two months after he started trying, he was sure he was having an effect on her when she suddenly sat up in bed, slapped at her pussy and scrambled out of bed like she thought there was a bug crawling on her or something. She had felt his finger when she was awake for the first time.

At first, when Amy would wake up with a start feeling like someone was playing with her clit it terrified her. But then Arthur tried a little move Amy had taught him, he made a V with two fingers on his left hand and put them on either side of her clit, then he rubbed his index finger of his right hand in circles lightly directly on top of her clit. Finally, he blew air on her clit.

Amy screamed, scrambled out of bed, looked at the bed, then said “Arthur?” It was an hour before Amy calmed down and could get back to sleep. Arthur tried but couldn’t ‘touch’ Amy again that night, she wasn’t nearly relaxed enough.

The next day Amy tried thinking logically about what had happened. She had been feeling something for weeks, but she had put it down to missing Arthur and needing sex. She thought about calling her Mom, but no. She thought about several girlfriends, but they would just think she was crazy. She even considered her doctor or perhaps trying to find a psychic online. Ultimately, she decided there was only one thing that made sense.

That night she put on the lingerie she had worn on their honeymoon, she had a couple of glasses of wine, she put soft music on, turned the lights down and laid in bed. Amy spread her legs and said: “OK, this is crazy, but Arthur, darling, if you’re here, please make love to me!” And then she tried to relax. Several minutes went by and . . . . nothing. She thought she imagined something several times but the logical part of her brain was just too much in control.

Arthur was initially very excited. So excited that he probably started too hard, too fast. And after trying every trick he knew, he wasn’t getting any reaction. Here was his gorgeous wife, dressed in her sexiest, spread for him and . . . nothing. She just wasn’t relaxed enough, Arthur knew she needed to turn off her brain.

Eventually Amy got tired of trying and, feeling foolish, put on a robe and went into the living room to turn on a movie. She also had another glass of wine. The movie was a bore and she got drowsy.

Arthur knew the signs and he was ready. Calmer now, carefully now, gently now, THERE, she twitched.

Amy woke up with a start again, that feeling, just like Arthur used to give her. “Do it again love!” she said. But she was just too awake now, her heart pounding, adrenaline flowing. Arthur couldn’t reach her anymore that night. Amy went to sleep on the couch.

But Arthur didn’t. He stayed right by her side all night. He watched and he waited. And when the first flow of sunrise came through the sliding glass doors to the balcony, he saw her start to stir. He stroked. He stroked again. She moaned. He stroked again. Her eyes snapped open.

“No! Amy my love, don’t be scared, relax, just feel!” he screamed, but of course she heard nothing.

But then, somewhere in the back of her brain a thought clicked. She only felt him when she was half asleep. Only when she was in that twilight zone was she relaxed enough. Only when she turned off the thinking part, the logical part of her brain could he reach her. She had to relax. Breath slowly. Clear her brain, stop thinking, stop questioning, just feel. THERE. It was him!

Arthur saw the lightbulb come on in his wife’s mind. He felt her twitch. As he continued to stroke her clit he saw the moisture start to ooze from her. YES! Over the next hour they both experimented. Aurthur tried every trick he knew to turn on his wife. Amy tried to relax, tried using her fingers to hold herself open, tried thinking about Arthur, imagined she was on the beach in Cancun. It felt wonderful but after a few hours of edging, Amy realized she wasn’t going to cum but she didn’t care, Arthur was making love to her.

Eventually he stopped when Amy’s alarm went off. She tried to tell him to continue, that she could skip work, that she didn’t want him to stop. But even ghosts get tired fingers. Amy took a shower. It was during her drive to work that she started to question her sanity. Was this real? Was she dreaming, or crazy? What now? Amy didn’t know that Arthur was always with her, she only ‘felt’ his fingers at the apartment so she went about her workday normally. But when she returned to the apartment she started talking to Arthur as she fixed a simple dinner. I did occur to her to fix him a plate as if he were really there – but then she thought how crazy that was; just as crazy as making love with a ghost.

Again, Amy had wine with dinner to relax and again she dressed for Arthur. It occurred to her that perhaps, as she did when he was alive, she could ‘help’ things along. Amy got her dildo out of the bedside drawer and lubed it up. When she felt Arthur’s fingers on her clit, she slowly inserted the Dildo and started fucking herself. That gave Arthur an idea, his fingers moved through matter more easily than they manipulated matter. What if he reached a finger down inside of Amy’s body, pushing it through the clitoris and directly to the g-spot.

Amy sucked in a breath and held it. She had NEVER felt that sensation before. She knew the clitoris was a complex bundle of nerves extending from her external clit into the G-spot. But she had never felt her entire clitoris stimulated at once. It was . . . it was amazing. She couldn’t breathe. Her whole being rose up with her orgasm and exploded! She squirted; Amy had NEVER squirted before. It startled and embarrassed her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Arthur, I’ve made a mess everywhere. Did I get you?” She exclaimed. And then the absurdity of her statement hit her. The combination of the intense orgasm, and the absurdity of her statement made her laugh. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Although she couldn’t see or hear him, Arthur was floating above her laughing with her. But she felt him, no longer just on her clit but somehow, she now felt his presence and his joy in the room.

The following day, Amy was floating on air. She smiled at everyone, had a cheerful word for everyone, got more work done in one day than she had in weeks. Everyone noticed the new Amy.

By evening Arthur was realizing he had made a huge mistake. He hated to see Amy mourning and he felt that his spirit was still on earth for a reason. He assumed that reason involved Amy, since his spirit seemed to be attached to her. But her making love to a ghost, no, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be his mission. That could not lead to a normal life for Amy, and in his love for her he desperately wanted her to have a normal life. He had to fix this.

He thought about just stopping, never touching her again but that wouldn’t solve either of their problems. He hatched a plan.

That night, in bed, he started learning to stimulate Amy’s nipples. He tried squeezing them with his fingers but that took more pressure than he could generate in his ghostly form. He tried flicking them, nothing. He tried just rubbing them, nothing. Amy was getting frustrated that he wasn’t making love to her clit, she wanted to feel that total clitoris sensation again, where was Arthur. Rather than leave her frustrated, he made love to her with his finger again and she fell asleep, soon after another earth-shattering orgasm.

It took three more nights of experimentation before it occurred to Arthur to use his lips and tongue on her nipple WHILE he was making love to her clit. She felt it, she grabbed her breast with her free hand and squeezed. “Ohh, that’s good, I can feel you on my nipples. You always loved sucking my nipples!” She breathed. Over the next week Artur continued to work on Amy’s nipples as they made love, making sure she could clearly tell when he was on the right vs. the left breast.

Amy always kept a journal. She had stopped when Arthur died, but now she started again, and this gave him his second idea. When she started writing he placed his finger on her clit. Since she was still in her business clothes, he pushed his finger right through her skirt and panties. It took a minute for her to feel it. “Impatient tonight are we Arthur? Just let me finish my Journal for today, then we’ll go play.”

Arthur kept his finger there, not stimulating her, just letting her know he was present.

When Amy wrote the word “I” in her Journal, Arthur flicked her clit as hard as he could. “Oh!” she said and stopped for a minute. She continued writing “had another wonderful day. I” and as soon as she wrote “I” he flicked her clit again. After the third time she wrote “I” she was getting frustrated. “You’re being a bad ghost tonight. Please let me finish, then we’ll go to bed.” She didn’t write another “I” in her remaining entry and they went to bed as normal.

Arthur had never revealed himself to her at work but when she started typing her weekly sales report the next day, she felt the unmistakable finger on her clit, right there in her office chair. “Arthur!” she whispered, “Not here! Go HOME.” Arthur didn’t move his finger. And over the next hour, every time she typed a capital “I” he flicked her clit. By 10am she was getting annoyed and turned on. She also finished her report and Arthur left her alone the rest of the workday.

That night, however, as soon as she picked up her Journal, he started again.

“What are you DOING!” She asked angrily. He flicked her clit three times.

It finally dawned on her. “Are you trying to talk to me? Oh Arthur, what?” He sucked her right nipple, right through her blouse.

“Do you want to make love right now?” she asked.

He sucked her left nipple.

“Are we playing ‘yes’ ‘no’?” she asked.

He sucked her right nipple.

“OH Shit! I mean, yes, let's do it.”

Arthur flicked her clit.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “Why have you been flicking my clit at work and while I’m journaling. OH, it’s because I’m writing isn’t it!” She guessed.

He sucked her right nipple.

“OK, OK, Umm,” she stammered, “’I’, you’ve been flicking my clit when I type or write ‘I’. Oh damn, I’ve been so dense!”

He sicked her right nipple.

Over the next several hours they played guess the next word. Thankfully, the AI in Amy’s word processor kept suggesting four words as possible next words in the sentence.

When Arthur wanted a word, he would flick her clit one, two, three or four times to indicate the word he wanted. When she guessed a word he wanted, either from the list or not, he would suck her right nipple. They were making slow but steady progress.

“I Love You.” Was the first and obvious message.

By the time she guessed, “I want you to be happy,” she was incredibly turned on. His reaffirming his love was one thing, but the constant flicking of her clit and sucking of her nipples was making her wet.

“I want you! Enough guessing for tonight, flick me.”

Arthur knew what that meant – he had never been able to fuck his wife, but he could flick her to paradise and back.

Now they could communicate. It was painfully slow. Sometimes Amy would get it in her mind that Arthur was trying to form a particular message and he had to practically bite her left nipple off, getting her to guess something different. Other times she guessed whole sentences in one try. By the third night he decided it was time.

“I want you to date,” he led her to guess.

“What date?” she asked, thinking he was talking about a calendar date.

“Go on a date.”

“I’m a married woman!” she replied, pretending to be angry at him.

“No, you’re not.” He couldn’t get her to guess ‘widow.”

She cried. She wouldn’t play anymore that night.

The next night he was worried she wasn’t going to play. But she opened her laptop and started, as she always did, by typing ‘I’.

“I’m lost,” he said, though she took a while to guess ‘lost’. “I can’t go home until you’re happy.”

“I am happy!” she replied.

“I’m not. I love you. I’m not.”

She stopped playing again.

Amy had the weekend to think things through. She and Arthur had talked about his dying. How could they not, he’d had terminal cancer. He had made sure she understood how to probate his will, how to handle the finances. He had told her he wanted her to move on with her life after he was gone. She just didn’t listen. But now, all those conversations came flooding back. She paced. She cried. She screamed. She threw things. And eventually, after going through all the stages of grief again in one weekend, she collapsed.

Arthur watched it all. It was the most painful thing he had ever been through, more painful than all the symptoms of his cancer. He waited. When she collapsed into sleep he waited, and when he judged that she was waking up, he made love to her. He did the best job he had ever done, used every trick in his arsenal, even tried using his lips and tongue on her clit. And she absorbed it all, came, and collapsed into sleep again.

Monday, she went to work. Her co-workers noticed that she was more serious, more reserved. Some speculated that she was coming down with something. At home that night she stripped naked and sat on the couch with her laptop.

“OK, I get it. You love me. You love me so much you want me to be happy. You’re in some kind of purgatory and stuck here with me.”

Arthur sucked her left nipple HARD.

“Ouch. OK, perhaps stuck is the wrong word. But you can’t move on, right?”

Right nipple.

“I love you too, you know that.”

Right nipple.

“Are you miserable, wherever you are?” she asked.

Right nipple, left nipple, right nipple, left nipple.

“OK, OK, I get it,” she said, laughing. “I’ll take that as you like being with me, but it’s not what was supposed to happen. Do you know what’s next? For you I mean?”

Left nipple.

“Do you think it’s heaven? Will I join you there someday?”

Right nipple, left nipple.

“You don’t know? Well, I had to ask.”

“I don’t want to let you go. It’s not just the sex, which is really great by the way. If we meet in heaven or wherever someday you’re going to have to tell me how you do that thing where my whole clitoris… well, you know.”

Right nipple.

“Yea, but we weren’t married for nearly long enough. I miss YOU!”

Right nipple.

“But I have to, huh.”

Right nipple.

“So, you want me to date?”

Right nipple.

“Anybody in mind?”

Right nipple.

“Oh really!” She said somewhat surprised, “trying to play matchmaker?”

Right nipple. Then he flicked her clit – his usual signal she should start typing.

She typed “I” and over the next few minutes quickly guessed he wanted to say “I will know.”

“So, you’re a mind reader?”

“I will know. Trust me. Trust yourself. Let go.”

He made love to her right there on her couch. The laptop fell on the floor with a thud as she had her second or third orgasm.

He stopped making love to her then. In fact, he stopped communicating at all. At first, she was angry but then she realized it was the only way. She had probably had her last ghost finger orgasm. But she hoped they would talk one more time.

It was over a month later. She was almost used to not having his presence around at night. Then some jerk hit her car. He was texting on his phone and slammed into the rear of her car at a stoplight. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to cause an injury, but it sure messed up the back of her Toyota. She jumped out of the car, ready to tear into whoever was driving until she saw him. Six feet, massive shoulders, wearing gym clothes and all sweaty, oh god he was hot.

“Stop,” she thought, “the jerk just hit you. Snap out of it girl! Chew this jerk out!”

And then she felt it. It was unmistakable. That full clitoris stimulation combined with steady flicking of the top of her clit AND Arthur was sucking her right nipple. It was so intense, and it caught her so by surprise that she dropped to her knees and moaned as the orgasm hit her hard. She had never experienced an orgasm that quickly. She was stunned.

The driver assumed she had been hurt in the accident and rushed to grab her. She was on her knees and he was kneeling in front of her, holding her up to keep her from toppling over.

“Are you hurt?” He asked in the dreamiest voice. And as she looked in his face she thought “damn he has nice eyes.”

“No,” she replied. “I think I just moved too fast.”

Then looking at the back of her Toyota she added, “I think that’s going to cost you dinner.”

Arthur smiled, then realized he was fading slowly away. He gave Amy a quick tweak to the right nipple and was gone. She felt him go, but somehow she couldn’t be sad, they had a good time together and now they were both on to their next adventure.


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