DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

Who am I? I suppose in the strictest sense I am nobody, having been killed in an auto accident three months ago. What I am is a disembodied residual consciousness or, for lack of a better term, a ghost. Some people hold to the romantic idea that ghosts are spirits who are simply lost between the worlds. The horrible truth is there is no Heaven, no Hell, no other worlds.There is only the cessation of being. What the living call ghosts are really dead people who are held to the world by obessive love, hate, grief, or, like myself, revenge. Before I can let myself pass into oblivion, Julianne must pay for my life.

My obsession began on a stormy night three months ago when I was run off the road and into a river by a car driven by her. She was far above the legal limits of both speed and intoxication, as well as being below the legal age limit for driving. By the time she crawled out of bed the next afternoon looking for something for her hangover my body had washed up on the river bank, found by an unlucky fisherman, collected by the police, and featured on the news. She didn't remember what she had done and there were no witnesses to link her to the crime. Since that day I have followed her, looking for a way to balance the scales.

Being a ghost has several limitations. The greatest of which is that I cannot affect the material world in any way. I also cannot make myself audible to living people. Julianne would be thankful for that if she knew since I have been screaming at her every day since my death.

The one thing I can do, however, is to look into the minds of the living and, with a little effort, influence their thinking. Over the last few months I've used this ruthlessly to make small changes in her life. Changes that have led her to where she is tonight.

Julianne is a high school student. A living man would find her attractive. She has long brown hair that she keeps in a loose wave. Her eyes are the kind that have been described as doe-like and are a little too large for her face. Her figure has already taken on a woman's curves, and, at my suggestion, she has made sure that fact not been lost on the boys at her school.

Tonight, as every night, Julianne is at a party. She is the perfect party girl always knowing what to say, what to drink, what to wear. Tonight she's wearing a white mini dress that clings to her body like a second skin. She's been drinking again and has flirted with every boy in the room. More than the others her attentions have turned toward Bradley, one of the Seniors. He's average, as teenage boys go, still a little awkward and possessed of more hormones than brains. Still she is attracted to him and that is a fact I can use. All night long I've been dropping little hints into the back of her mind. By now she's drunk, hornier than Hell, and fixated on Bradley.

She staggers across the room, actually she manages to make it look like a slow, seductive prowl. He's standing in a group of friends who drift apart to make a path. I
don't need to read his mind to know what he is thinking. Between the booze, his own raging

hormones, and the fact that the neckline of her dress is cut down to just above her nipples, he is entranced. A few words whispered in his ear and a brush of her hand against his cheek has the two of them walking up the stairs and into an empty bedroom. The door barely closes before he makes the first move and pulls her in for a bruising kiss.

She's responding quite eagerly and even upping the ante by grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. She's not wearing panties, hasn't since she 'decided' that it would make her ass look rounder. He's already hard and she can feel his erection pressing against her, trying to get through all of the fabric between it and where it wants to be. She must be feeling merciful because she's undoing his pants and setting his dick free. His hands are sliding up her hips, taking the dress with them. Her dress slides up effortlessly, bunching around her waist and letting her young tits fall loose into his waiting hands.

She doesn't give him much time to enjoy the feel. Julianne slides to her knees, grabs his dick in her hands and starts stroking him. He's been hard since her first touch and his hips begin to jerk in mindless reflex. By the time she takes him into her mouth he's ready to explode. She works him like a professional, bringing him to the edge then backing off. Finally he can't stand anymore and he pulls her to her feet long enough to throw her toward the bed.

Somehow she manages to turn her fall into a seductive pose and she lays there watching him struggle with his clothing. Thanks to me,she can't keep her hands off of her own body as she covers every inch from her tits down to her pussy. She's worked herself almost to orgasm by the time he succeeds in getting rid of his clothing and throwing himself on top of her.

He's getting close now. Any rational thoughts he had are now submerged by pure animal lust. Julianne isn't much better as her hips start moving on their own, urging him on. His cock is throbbing in anticipation as her legs part giving him the opening he needs.

She feels the tip of his cock slide into her and, only for a moment, wonders if this is a good idea. Her doubts linger only as long as it takes for him to slide completely inside.
Sexually speaking they have no style. What they lack in style however, they make up for in intensity. He's pounding for all he's worth, thinking perhaps that harder is better. She's grinding her hips in a drunken haze,barely aware of what she is doing. All her mind knows is that there is a man inside her and what he's doing feels wonderful.

I've cleared her mind a little and from somewhere in the back of her head comes the thought that, perhaps, it may be a bad idea for him to shootinside her. She knows that she is not on the pill and she doesn't remember him putting on a rubber.

Panic floods her brain as she remembers that she is at the vulnerable, midpoint of her cycle. Desperately she pushes against him trying to crawl out from underneath. She's screaming and crying at the top of her lungs trying to get him to stop but he cannot hear anything over the roar of his own reproductive drive. All she can do is collapse in tears as she feels him jerk and fill her with seed.

On one drunken night not too long ago, Julianne thoughtlessly ended my life. Tonight, drunk again, she thoughtlessly begins another. Somehow that seems to be a fitting revenge. I can rest now.