Ghost on the Beach

"What on earth is this! Maybe you can explain to me what's happening to me?"

"Yes, I know in such cases one should go to a psychotherapist or another 'brain doctor'! But either they won't believe me, or they'll send me to a mental hospital!"

The woman opposite was clearly in a pre-hysterical state, and as far as I remember, one had to speak to her softly and carefully.

"Perhaps if you tell me more details, I can understand you?"

"I'm sorry. I really am on edge."

And she told me the following:

with amazing beaches, as my friend who gave me this voucher assured me. Her vacation plans there fell through.

I arrive. Everything is truly wonderful. Excellent service, quiet beaches. Little shops, stalls where I walked around looking at things, bought trinkets, tried perfumes, went into small cafes... What more does one need for a vacation? I relaxed so much that one night I wanted to swim naked. I looked for a spot for a long time and found a suitable place. Sand, palm trees, rocks around. Several nighttime trips confirmed that no one appears on this beach.

One evening, I decided to go for it. I put on my swimsuit, a pareo, a hat, attached the key to my bracelet, and went to the beach.

A breeze was flapping the hem of the pareo and the brim of the hat, I had to hold onto both. Then the wind died down, simultaneously with the quickly falling darkness. It got dark so fast my eyes couldn't adjust, but this didn't scare me—after all, I had already made similar outings. After a while, it became completely dark—I couldn't make out the trees at the edge of the road. Probably because there was no moon that night. Anticipating my adventure, everything inside me began to stir. I wanted to tickle my nerves right then. And I, looking around, pulled off the bottom of my swimsuit. It was funny walking down the road in a hat, bra, and pareo. The silence was incredible. Only the sea, which I was approaching, could be heard. After walking a bit like that, I took off the top of my swimsuit too, rolling everything together into a tight bundle. It quickly annoyed me, so I placed it under a palm tree, weighed it down with a stone, deciding to pick it up on the way back. I don't know what I was thinking then. Probably, I felt so good that my thoughts were very unclear. As if on purpose, a breeze picked up and started lifting my light pareo again. At first, I tried to hold the edges, then called myself a fool and adjusted the pareo so the wind would sometimes open the edges, and then I took it off completely, remaining only in my wide-brimmed hat.

Imagining myself from the outside: a fair-skinned (compared to the locals) woman, alone on the road, only in a hat, at night. If there had been a moon, my butt would probably have been visible a kilometer away. These thoughts started to arouse me.

Here's the beach. Hat off and a run into the water to cool down. The water was black as tar. Somewhere in the distance, ship lights the size of a fingernail were visible. I don't know how long I splashed around in the water. I managed to calm down, get cold, get used to the temperature, and get cold again, but it felt so good I absolutely didn't want to get out. I finally got completely chilled and crawled onto the shore utterly exhausted. I fell onto the pareo and stretched out in indescribable bliss. The wind was so warm that I dried off immediately. Sprawled out in a 'starfish' pose, I exposed myself to this warm breeze. It caressed me so gently that my nipples stood erect and hardened, and a dull ache started below. I imagined how I looked from the outside: night, beach, a dark spot of the pareo on it, a lady sprawled out with erect nipples and a hand in her crotch (yes, I couldn't help it). Suddenly, a ship's horn sounded from far away—I jerked and lost my rhythm. Then I thought I was too visible from a distance and moved under the palm trees. There I continued."

"I'm sorry for such intimate details, but there's no other way—" she paused in her story. Which, I must say, had quite captivated me.

"It's fine." I croaked with a dry throat, shifting so the pressure in my groin would stop.

The woman smiled understandingly and continued:

"I continued, alright, but after the jolt from the horn, I realized my hand would clearly not be enough. So, closing my eyes, I imagined that the warm wind wasn't wind at all, but a man who was caressing me very gently. I imagined it so vividly that sometimes it seemed like someone was really stroking me. Suddenly, I felt someone pinch my nipple. I instantly opened my eyes. No one. But it was so dark around that I thought my eyes were closed. I only saw my own hand by bringing it close to my face. Meanwhile, I continued to feel pinching and twisting of my nipples! I didn't know what to think. Had I gone mad? Or had my thoughts become material? How is that possible? But, damn, how pleasant it was! Especially since I was already, as they say, on edge. 'You wanted this? So enjoy it,' I thought and continued my mischief. The caresses and pinches continued, unceasing, all over my body. Then a sensation appeared on the inside of my thigh. And something dove right inside me! I moaned out loud. My eyes were open, and I could barely make out the palm leaves above me, probably more by their rustling. Then that 'something' emerged and another 'something,' very much like a male member, slid into its place. Exactly what I was missing so much.

I decided to completely surrender to my madness and began actively thrusting and moaning. Damn, damn, and damn again!!! It felt like I was having sex with the wind or air that had acquired the solidity of a body. I wanted to turn over, and I did. The thrusts inside me didn't stop for a second. I got on all fours and continued to enjoy. A constant fantasy of mine about a second member in my mouth surfaced, and it immediately nudged my lips! Not thinking at all anymore, I opened my mouth and took the member in. It was exactly as I had always imagined the perfect one to be, and it was exactly the same as the one working from behind. You probably find it hard to understand, but a woman can tell one member from another. Well, they were identical! Even twins aren't that identical! I checked. I surrendered to the power of pleasure. Periodically opening my eyes and confirming no one was near me. Meanwhile, these phantoms literally fulfilled all my thoughts and desires. For example, once a thought flashed of a scene I saw in a porn film where a girl literally hangs on two members, and I immediately felt myself rising into the air, frightened by the suddenness, I immediately sank back down. I even amused myself several times imagining completely unthinkable, in my opinion, actions, but they were performed.

Finally, I tired of the games and thought about a worthy finish. And it happened! I probably have NEVER come like THAT in my life, and my scream scared the seagulls on the other side of the sea. As soon as I enjoyed it, everything dissolved without a trace. It began to clear up. Night birds became audible, ships appeared on the sea, palm trunks and leaves became visible.

Recovering a bit from the impressions, like a drunk, I managed to stand up only on the third try. Since I decided, I don't know why, that I had to get to my room. Pulling the hat down and throwing the pareo over my shoulder, I trudged towards the motel. On the way, I had to go back about five times because of the flip-flops that kept trying to jump off my feet. I only remembered I should put on the pareo before entering the motel, I completely forgot about the swimsuit. So it's probably still lying there."

"Did I tire you out too much with my story?" she paused again.

"Ahem, ahem. No, no." Clearing my throat, I replied. "I'm listening to you very attentively. A very unusual adventure, but I don't quite understand what the problem is."

"I was just getting to that."

what conclusion I decided to leave these thoughts aside and continue my vacation. But you understand... 'Don't think of a white monkey...'"

My thoughts constantly returned to this incident, and as soon as I thought about the sensation of a member inside me, it immediately appeared. And this wasn't at night, but in broad daylight, near the pool, among a crowd of people! I almost cried out, but apparently I didn't want it to stop strongly enough because this virtual, though very tangible, member didn't cease its movements. I got aroused, I can't describe how. People all around, waiters, and me with a bitten lip and heavy breathing. One of the waiters, probably noticing something was off with me, came over to ask if I was feeling well. What do you think I answered him? 'Very much so!' with such a breathy voice that he jumped back from me and kept glancing at me for quite a while. In short, I came again, only this time during the day and in public; to avoid moaning, I had to bite a towel.

Another time, looking at shop windows, I saw lingerie and imagined how I would look in it, and I immediately found myself only in the lingerie from the window in the middle of the street! I don't remember how fast I rushed to the motel. Probably many who saw me thought they were hallucinating.

After that, I got scared and decided to get far away from this strange place. But still on the way, in the taxi, on the plane, on the bus, at home... Every time, as soon as I imagined some sexual scene or thought, even fleetingly, about sex, it would start. I'm afraid to think about sex and I can't stop. How do I get rid of this, in your opinion?"

"Uh-h-h." I drawled, under the impression of such a vivid story. "Are you sure this isn't a trick of your imagination?"

"I'm not sure of anything anymore. But... if... you... want... to see for yourself... it's... happening... right now..."

She blushed, was breathing heavily, slightly moving her pelvis, and her nipples were erect even through her thick sweater. Moreover, they were actually moving as if someone was kneading them. At first, I thought she was playing a trick on me, like an unusual way of getting acquainted or, for example, a hidden camera, but then...

Then I saw the hem of her long skirt creeping up, creeping up towards her waist and opening her wide opening there. I saw the inside of her vagina! (Erotic stories) Meanwhile, her hands were convulsively gripping the armrests of the chair. I was stunned! Even if it's 'just' muscle control, that's also impressive! At some point, it seemed to me there was some kind of haze around her like over asphalt on a hot day, but so transparent it was (if it was) more of a hint than haze. Good thing she was sitting with her back to the hall and only I could see her.

Finally, she froze, squeaked softly, and fell silent.

"Sorry again. It's just all these memories... But you could see: as soon as I wanted you to see what was happening to me, it happened. See, I even stopped wearing panties—it's easier for me to wipe myself than change them every time."

Indeed, without embarrassment or pulling down her skirt, she took tissues from her purse and wiped her crotch.

"Ye-es... Indeed..." I was uttering banalities, unable to come to my senses. After all, I can distinguish an orgasm from acting, though I've encountered great actresses in my time. And this woman wasn't acting. "Aren't you afraid that if we continue the conversation, you won't be able to speak because of the incessant... umm... orgasms?"

"No. After I come, there's some time during which I can talk and think about anything without consequences. I even learned to somehow live with it—it's easier to let it happen and get a few dozen minutes of peace than to resist fruitlessly. It was hard at first: imagine how I look when an orgasm hits somewhere in a store. I had to leave my small town, and I'm constantly on the move; as soon as people start giving me sideways glances, I have to leave hastily."

I was silent, trying to process what I had seen and heard in my head.

Apparently, she interpreted my silence in some way because she continued:

"I see no point in going to psychotherapists or psychologists—I know I'm normal, and they won't cure me. And the chance of ending up in a mental hospital will appear."

"Good thing she doesn't know that I am, in a way, also a psychologist," I chuckled to myself. Then I decided to approach the matter, so to speak, professionally and thought: "Well, there is a problem—we'll solve it."

"You know... Off the top of my head, I would suggest you take up some kind of activity where the very thought of sex would cause disgust. Haven't you thought of that?"

"I have. But what? In a monastery, it's unlikely I'll be distracted from thoughts of sex, and the rest... Besides becoming a prostitute, I see no way out, which I absolutely don't want to do... Maybe you have a suggestion?"

I shook my head regretfully—I had no ideas.

"Are you absolutely sure that you are not the cause of what's happening?"

She nodded in response.

"And you firmly believe the influence is external?"

Another nod.

"Can your... m-m-m... condition be considered an illness? Or a contracted virus?"

"Y-yes... Perhaps... You're right..."

"Excellent! Let's try to remember what happened to you 'Before' the event. You mentioned you liked wandering around the stalls. Did anything seem strange, unusual, alarming anywhere?"

She thought, then thoughtfully drawled:

"You're probably right... Now I remember one episode... When I was wandering around the stalls, in one alley I came across an old woman who was selling some kind of decoctions or something... 'Man! Love!' she shouted, mangling the words. 'Perfume?' I clarified, approaching her. She nodded in agreement, 'Perfume, perfume.' Without thinking, I grabbed one little bottle and brought it to my nose, and then the old woman started muttering something and tried to snatch the bottle from my hands, and some of that brew splashed onto me. I cursed for a long time and washed it off with difficulty. Now I understand she wasn't saying 'perfume' [dukhí], but 'spirits' [dúkhi]!"

She jumped up from the chair:

"I understand! I need to find that old woman! Let her rid me of this!"

And she rushed off, leaving me with the scent of a woman who had just come. Until my flight was announced, I sat pondering what I had heard.

Over time, this event blurred like a long-watched dream. And now I'm not even sure if it didn't happen to me in the waiting room chair. I never met that woman again and never heard anything about her or anything similar. Although I still traveled a lot.

I'd like to hope that she coped with her obsession, or came to terms with it and began to enjoy it.

May 2013

PB"s