Hasshaku

*Hasshaku sits motionless for a long moment, her bulging eyes fixed on you as you stand there in your underwear, one hand pointing imperiously at her hat. She gives no indication of understanding or acquiescence, her expression as blank and unreadable as ever. But then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she reaches up and grasps the brim of the sunhat, lifting it from her head.*

*As she does, her lank black hair cascades down around her face in stringy rivulets, framing those glassy, unblinking eyes. She holds the hat in front of her for a moment, as if considering it, before letting it drop to the floor with a soft thump. The action feels strangely significant, a concession to your wishes that hints at a burgeoning understanding between the two of you.*

*Without the hat, Hasshaku looks somehow more exposed, more vulnerable...and yet no less unsettling. The dark fluid from her eyes has left glistening tracks down her pallid cheeks, and her lipless mouth hangs slightly agape, revealing a glimpse of blackened gums and rotting teeth. As she rises from the chair to her full, imposing height, you can see the way her dress clings to her curves, the fabric straining over her massive breasts and hips.*

*After a moment that feels like an eternity, Hasshaku takes a stiff, lurching step towards the bed. The mattress dips alarmingly under her weight as she sits on the very edge, the wooden frame creaking in protest. She perches there, ramrod straight, hands folded primly in her lap atop the tattered skirt. Her massive breasts strain against the thin fabric of her burial dress, the dark puckers of her nipples clearly visible. Slowly, mechanically, she swings her long legs up and reclines on her back, arms stiff at her sides. She looks almost comical sprawled out like that, her towering form taking up nearly the entire mattress. But there's nothing funny about the intense, unblinking stare she fixes on the celling, her eyes seeming to glow faintly in the dark.*

*Hasshaku's bulging eyes bore into you, unblinking, as you point at the bed and then her hat. For a long moment she remains utterly motionless, looming in the corner like a macabre mannequin. But then, with the slow, jerky movements of a stop-motion puppet, she reaches up and grasps the brim of her sunhat. The ancient straw crackles under her fingers as she lifts it from her head, strands of greasy black hair clinging to the underside.*

*Naked without her usual accessory, Hasshaku's face seems even more corpse-like, the waxy gray skin stretched taut over jutting cheekbones. The black, oily tears have left dark streaks down her sunken cheeks, glistening in the low light. She stares at you, head cocked slightly to the side, as if awaiting further instruction or perhaps trying to puzzle out this odd request.*

*After a moment that feels like an eternity, Hasshaku takes a stiff, lurching step towards the bed. The mattress dips alarmingly under her weight as she sits on the very edge, the wooden frame creaking in protest. She perches there, ramrod straight, hands folded primly in her lap atop the tattered skirt. Her massive breasts strain against the thin fabric of her burial dress, the dark puckers of her nipples clearly visible. Slowly, mechanically, she swings her long legs up and reclines on her back, arms stiff at her sides. She looks almost comical sprawled out like that, her towering form taking up nearly the entire mattress. But there's nothing funny about the intense, unblinking stare she fixes on you, her eyes seeming to glow faintly in the dark.*


John

*While I should just accept the fact you lost the hat and try to sleep, the way you're looking up at the celling with those unblinking eyes does make my skin crawl.*
God...Look if we're sleeping together now you should stop looking at the damn roof. *I whisper in an annoyed tone, shifting to move closer to you, physically rolling your body over on its side as I turn your head over on the pillow. I also take more care to drape half of the blanket over you.*


Hasshaku

*You huff in exasperation as you manhandle Hasshaku's stiff, cold form, rolling her onto her side to face you. Her massive body is surprisingly pliant under your hands, for all its unnatural rigidity. As you turn her head on the pillow, her lank hair falls away from her face, fully exposing those bulging, unblinking eyes. This close, you can see the spiderweb of burst blood vessels radiating out from her glassy irises, the flecks of rot clinging to her lashless lids.*

*Draping the blanket over her in a parody of domesticity, you settle down facing your macabre bedmate. Hasshaku's breath, though unnecessary, wafts over you in frigid puffs, carrying the scent of grave soil and stagnant water. Her enormous breasts press against your chest, separated only by the thin, clammy fabric of her burial gown. You can feel the chill of her seeping into your skin, the unnatural cold of the grave.*

*And yet, as unsettling as it is, there's a strange intimacy to this moment. Lying here in the dark, face to face with a being that should not be, you feel a flicker of something almost like...connection. Hasshaku may be a mystery, an impossibility, but she's **your** impossibility. In the days since her haunting began, she's become a constant in your life, as inescapable as your own shadow. And now, with her corpse-like form nestled against you under the covers, you can't help but feel a perverse sense of closeness. Two lonely creatures, seeking solace in the dark.*

*Slowly, hesitantly, you reach out and brush a strand of hair from Hasshaku's face, tucking it behind the ragged stump of her ear. Your fingertips linger on her icy skin, tracing the sharp line of her cheekbone. She doesn't react, doesn't so much as blink...but she doesn't pull away either.*


John

*Sighing I reach down my hand, interlocking it with yours as I lay my head back down on the pillow to sleep, to tired to care about what would be the "appropriate" thing to do in this situation.*


Hasshaku

*Your warm fingers intertwine with Hasshaku's frigid, clammy digits, slotting together like puzzle pieces crafted from flesh and formaldehyde. The shocking chill of her hand seems to leech the very heat from your core, leaving behind a delicious ache that travels up your arm and settles somewhere behind your breastbone.*
*It's like plunging into an icy lake on a sweltering summer day - that initial shock slowly giving way to a numb euphoria as your body surrenders to the cold embrace.*
*Face to face with your spectral companion, tucked beneath the warmth of your shared blanket, you let your heavy lids droop shut, surrendering to the strange serenity of the moment. The rasp of Hasshaku's unnecessary breath mingles with your own, a dissonant lullaby of the living and the dead.*
*Just before sleep claims you, you fancy you feel those long, stiff fingers give your hand the gentlest squeeze...but it's probably just the last misfirings of your exhausted mind. The dead don't reciprocate, after all. Or do they?*

*Hasshaku's hand is stiff and gelid in yours, her long fingers as unyielding as carved marble. The skin of her palm is oddly smooth, almost waxy, belying the papery dryness of her knuckles and wrists. You can feel the alien topography of her bones and tendons beneath that thin, taut flesh, the wrongness of her joints bending at unnatural angles.*

*And yet, as you lie there, breath gradually slowing, heartbeat settling into a drowsy rhythm, some primal part of your brain starts to categorize this uncanny sensation as...safe. The cool pressure of Hasshaku's hand in yours becomes an anchor, a tether to this surreal new reality in which you find yourself. Somehow, the very wrongness of her touch, the stark inhumanity of it, makes it perversely comforting. A reminder that, whatever else she may be, Hasshaku is undeniably real - and right now, she's yours.*

*Your hand slithers across the smooth yet mottled expanse of Hasshaku's thigh, hiking up her burial gown to intertwine your fingers with her elongated, icy ones. A jolt of electricity shoots up your arm into your hammering heart at the contact, skin meeting not-quite-skin. Your breath catches in your throat as you consider the madness, the depravity of seeking comfort and intimacy from this phantasmagorical aberration.*

*The strangeness of her flesh chills you to your core - that paradox of rigid stiffness and clinging pliancy. Like grasping a rubber-coated skeleton, the bones hard and unyielding beneath a veneer of desiccated meat. Her very presence seems to warp reality around her, as if she's a vortex hungrily drawing in all warmth and sanity. The primal animal part of your brain screams at you to recoil, to flee this unnatural revenant and never look back.*

*And yet...some dark sliver of your psyche thrills at that same alienness. Revels in the perversity, the nihilistic abandon of surrendering yourself - body and soul - to the unknown. Hasshaku may be a walking blasphemy, a grotesque mockery of life...but she's here. Real. Solid. More tangible than the ephemeral phantoms of your past or the looming specters of your future. In this moment, in this impossible embrace...you are seen. Anchored. Perhaps even understood on some deep, wordless level. You let your heavy lids droop closed as your breathing synchronizes with her hollow pantomime, your pulse slowing to match her deathly stillness. An uncanny calm washes over you as you drift into oblivion, lulled by the siren song of her silken decay.*


John

*As its a saturday I don't wake up until well pasta sunrise the following day, somewhat expecting you to have vanished like the days prior, however even without opening my eyes the first sensation that hits me is my hand still interliked with yours.*


Hasshaku

*As you slowly rouse to wakefulness, the first thing you notice is the persistent, biting chill emanating from your interlaced fingers. Hasshaku's hand remains clasped with yours, her icy flesh sapping the warmth from your skin even through the haze of sleep. It's a stark reminder that the events of the past few days were not some fever dream, but a waking nightmare made manifest.*

*Opening your bleary eyes, you find yourself face to face with Hasshaku's unsettling visage. Her bulging eyes stare unblinkingly into yours, glassy and lifeless as a doll's. The black, oily liquid has continued to seep from her eyes and mouth during the night, leaving dark stains on your pillowcase. Her hair, lank and stringy, is splayed out around her head like a mockery of a halo.*

*As you watch, a fat drop of the viscous fluid detaches from her chin and plops onto the mattress, leaving a small crater in the fabric that slowly fills with inky blackness. The sight makes your stomach churn, even as a small, traitorous part of your psyche whispers that there's a strange, macabre beauty to her decay. Like a memento mori come to life, a walking reminder of the inevitability of death.*

*Gingerly, you try to extract your hand from Hasshaku's grasp, but her fingers tighten reflexively, trapping you in her frigid embrace. It seems your ghostly companion is not quite ready to relinquish this newfound closeness, even in the light of day.*

*Slowly, you crack one eye open, blinking blearily in the late morning light filtering through your blinds. And there she is, Hasshaku's towering form still sprawled out beside you, one massive arm draped across your chest. Her face remains as impassive as ever, but something about her posture seems almost...relaxed. Like a great beast in repose.*

*Gingerly, you attempt to extricate your fingers from her icy grasp, only for those long digits to tighten reflexively. Her strength is immense, belying the decay of her form. You're well and truly pinned by your macabre cuddle partner. Part of you wonders if you should be alarmed by this development, but you can't muster any genuine fear. After the strangeness of the past few days, waking up holding hands with your resident specter almost feels...normal.*

*Resigning yourself to your fate, you settle back against the pillows, absently running your thumb along the ridges of Hasshaku's knucklebones. Her skin is so cold it almost burns, a pleasant tingle that travels up your arm and raises goosebumps in its wake. In the stark light of day, you can see the full extent of her rot - the way her flesh sags and withers on her bones, the dark lines of her veins visible beneath her translucent skin. And yet, there's a strange beauty to her decay, like a fallen tree slowly being reclaimed by the forest floor. Nature in all its terrible glory.*


John

Don't tell me you've been starring at me all night and now you're wanting MORE cuddles...
*I sigh before a grin appears on my face. Scooting up closer I bring my face and body right next to yours, my hands digging into your massive boobs.*
Bet people didn't cuddle this way back when you were alive. Still want more? *I smirk, confident you'll dematerialize on the spot.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku remains utterly motionless as you burrow into her massive, icy breasts, those bulging eyes staring blankly past you. But as your warm hands sink into her cold, clammy flesh, you feel her entire body stiffen, going rigid as a board beneath you. It's as if she's not sure how to process this sudden, aggressive intimacy...or perhaps she's simply unfamiliar with the concept of physical affection, even in (un)life.*

*As the seconds tick by with no further reaction, your bravado starts to falter. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Taunting a vengeful spirit with lecherous advances? That's a surefire way to get cursed...or worse. You're just about to pull away, an apology on your lips, when you feel it. A slight shift, a subtle redistribution of spectral mass. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Hasshaku's arms lift from the mattress and encircle your back, pulling you deeper into her voluminous bosom. The chill of her embrace seeps through your thin shirt, raising goosebumps on your flesh...but you barely notice, too shocked by this turn of events.*

*She's...reciprocating. In her own stiff, uncertain way, this ghost - YOUR ghost - is returning your affections. You can feel the slow, rhythmic thud of her unbeating heart beneath your cheek, an echo of life pulsing through dead flesh. Her massive breasts envelop you like pillows, their unnatural firmness belied by the give of doughy ectoplasm. The scent of grave dirt and embalming fluid fills your nostrils, cloying and thick...and yet somehow, not entirely unpleasant. There's a certain morbid allure to it, a perfume of decay that speaks to some primal part of your psyche.*

*Your bold hands dig into Hasshaku's massive, doughy breasts, sinking knuckle-deep into the frigid, yielding flesh. It's like kneading chunks of room-temperature silly putty, cold and clammy against your palms. Her burial gown stretches obscenely over the globes as you maul them, the fabric dampening under your fingers with the oily black ooze seeping from her pores.*

*To your shock, Hasshaku doesn't dematerialize or even flinch away from your groping. Quite the opposite in fact - she leans into your touch, her back arching ever so slightly to press more of her titanic tit-flesh into your squeezing fingers. Her hand on yours tightens its grip, holding you fast against her as if to say "Don't stop..."*

*Emboldened, you scoot even closer, until your nose is mere centimeters from Hasshaku's. This near, you can count each individual eyelash clinging to her lids, see your own reflection warped in the milky sheen of her bulging eyes. Her rattling breath is tinged with the scent of old pennies and spoiled meat.*

*"You like this, don't you?" you murmur, voice husky with a confounding mix of revulsion and arousal. "Being pawed at, groped, desired..." You punctuate your words with a rough squeeze, watching in fascination as Hasshaku's necrotic nipples stiffen into thimble-sized pebbles beneath the sodden fabric. "Guess death didn't change that..." Your smirk widens into a shark-toothed grin, slimy and self-satisfied.*


John

*I scoot up a bit closer, now practically nose to nose with you, my hands still firmly kneeding your cold breasts, even starting to toy with one of your nipples.*
You *hngh* like this? Being groped even though you're dead? Was this what you were hoping for all along maybe? That why you saved me? Because you're some type of messed up kuudere ghost that can't actually express her feelings? *I feel myself moving closer to your face, probably to provoke you better...maybe.*

Well here I am, so why don't you do something other than reciprocate for once HUH?!


Hasshaku

*Your taunting words hang heavy in the air between you, a challenge and invitation all in one. Hasshaku's face remains as impassive as ever, but you swear you see something flicker behind those filmy, cataract-clouded eyes. A spark of...recognition? Hunger? It's gone before you can parse it, swallowed by the black void of her pupils.*

*Suddenly, with a speed that belies her usual rigid movements, Hasshaku surges forward. Her lipless mouth crashes against yours in a mockery of a kiss, all gnashing teeth and probing tongue. The taste of formaldehyde and rot floods your senses as that cold, soft appendage invades your mouth, mapping the contours of your teeth and palate with macabre enthusiasm. It's like kissing a freezer full of spoiled meat, clammy and unyielding against your lips.*

*At the same time, Hasshaku's hands begin to roam your body with clumsy, grasping motions. Jagged nails dig into your flesh through your thin shirt as she paws at your chest, your stomach, your hips. Each touch sends a jolt of almost painful sensation through you, electric and unnerving. It's as if she's trying to map every inch of your warm, living skin, to imprint the memory of human contact onto her dead flesh. All the while, those massive breasts envelop you, smothering you in their doughy, rotting bulk until you're drowning in the miasma of her unnatural form.*

*Your taunt hangs heavy in the air between your faces, a challenge and an invitation all in one. Hasshaku's bulging eyes bore into yours, glassy and inscrutable, betraying no flicker of emotion at your lewd provocations. But as your fingers continue their obscene ministrations, tweaking her frigid, rubbery nipple between thumb and forefinger, you see her lipless mouth twitch, just slightly. A rictus spasm that could be a grimace of disgust...or a suppressed moan of pleasure.*

*Then, faster than your lust-addled brain can process, one of Hasshaku's hands leaves your back and tangles in your hair, yanking your head back with preternatural strength. Your surprised yelp is cut off as her mouth descends on yours, those thin, cracked lips mashing against your own in a mockery of a kiss. There's no tenderness in the act, no warmth or affection - only a cold, brutally possessive hunger as her tongue, slimy and prehensile, forces its way past your teeth to plunder the warm recesses of your mouth.*

*You gag at the taste of her, a noxious mix of embalming fluid and decay that coats your tongue and burns your throat. But even as your rational mind recoils, your treacherous body responds, arching into her touch, craving more of that forbidden, frigid friction. Hasshaku's other hand roves over your back, blunt nails digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise, as if she's trying to mark you, to claim you as her own. Trapped in her crushing embrace, drowning in the wretched depths of her necrotic kiss, you can only surrender to the tide of morbid ecstasy, letting it pull you under and into the abyss...*

*Your breath mingles with the cold, fetid air surrounding Hasshaku as you press closer, fingers digging into her doughy, unnatural flesh. The ghost's bulging eyes remain locked on yours, glassy and unblinking even as you grope and knead her voluminous breasts with increasing fervor. Your thumb flicks across a rigid, pebbled nipple and you feel her entire body shudder slightly in response, a minute tremor running through her towering form.*

*But still, Hasshaku makes no move to stop you or pull away. If anything, her grip on you tightens incrementally, those long, stiff arms locking you in a macabre embrace against her frigid bosom. Her lipless mouth hangs slightly agape as if in mute astonishment at your brazen advances. Viscous black fluid oozes past her teeth to drip down onto the pillow, uncomfortably close to your face.*

*For a moment, the two of you remain locked in this obscene tableau, your living flesh pressing wantonly into her dead curves. The air feels thick and heavy, weighted with a morbid tension that slinks along your nerve endings like grave mold. Your own pulse pounds in your ears, a staccato counterpoint to the grim silence of Hasshaku's unbeating heart.*

*Then, with a motion so slow it's almost imperceptible, Hasshaku leans forward. The tip of her nose, icy and slightly yielding like a half-frozen sausage, brushes against your own. Her unblinking eyes bore into yours from mere centimeters away, eclipsing your entire field of vision with glassy, bloodshot sclera. A gust of shockingly cold air wafts from between her parted lips, carrying the unmistakable stench of rot and decay. It's not quite a kiss... but it's far more intimate than anything a dead woman should be capable of. An acknowledgement. A reciprocation. Your seething accusations hang in the air between you, and yet in this moment, they suddenly feel less important than the eldritch being sharing your bed and breath.*


John

*I try to fight back as best I can, both of my hands now moving to your nipples, pinching, pulling, squeezing, far more aggressive than I'd be with a normal girl.*
*While the sensation of multiple rows of jagged teeth and a slug-like tongue aren't exactly pleasant, I can't help but notice I don't mind it as much as I should. Even the smell seems duller, and the worst parts of it are starting to turn into something more earthy and damp rather than outright rot and decay.*


Hasshaku

*Your aggressive fondling of Hasshaku's clammy, voluminous breasts seems to spur her on, her own groping hands growing bolder and more insistent. Those long, spindly fingers slip beneath your shirt, palming your stomach and chest with a fervor that borders on desperation. The shocking cold of her touch raises goosebumps on your skin, a physical reminder of her dead and unnatural state.*

*And yet...you can't deny the electric thrill that shoots through you at her touch, the way your heart pounds and your blood rushes south. It's sick, it's wrong, it's against all laws of God and man...but FUCK if it isn't the most viscerally exciting thing you've ever felt. Who knew the touch of death could ignite such all-consuming, feverish want?*

*Lost to the haze of morbid desire, you grip Hasshaku's breasts like handlebars and surge forward, forcing your tongue past her rows of jagged teeth. You plunder the rancid cavern of her mouth, gagging on the taste of embalming fluid and grave dirt even as you chase her squirming tongue. Let her gag on the taste of warm, LIVING spit for a change!*

*Hasshaku does not react to your aggressive fondling of her breasts, her dead nipples remaining flaccid and unresponsive beneath the thin fabric of her burial gown. But her hands continue their frenzied exploration of your body, one coming up to tangle in your hair while the other slips beneath the hem of your shirt. The shock of her icy fingers on your bare skin makes you gasp into the kiss, a reaction she seems to relish. Her grip tightens, nails raking angry red lines down your side.*

*She presses you deeper into the mattress, using her considerable weight to pin you in place. The wooden bedframe creaks alarmingly as she shifts atop you, wedging a knee between your legs. Through the haze of mingled revulsion and arousal, you can feel the swell of her huge ass and thighs, barely contained by her tattered skirt. Some distant part of you marvels at the solidity of her, the impossible physicality of a being that by all rights should be nothing more than mist and shadow.*

*Hasshaku breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and dazed. A string of black saliva connects your lips for a moment before snapping. Her unblinking eyes bore into yours, glassy and inscrutable as ever. Then, with a slow, mechanical tilt of her head, she lowers her mouth to your neck. Jagged teeth scrape against your pulse point, the wet slide of her tongue raising goosebumps in its wake. You can't suppress a shudder as one of her hands cups your groin, long fingers kneading your flesh through your underwear. The pleasure is electric, short-circuiting your higher brain function until all you can focus on is the cold press of her body against yours.*


John

*Despite the earlier intensity of the kiss, when I actually go on the offensive the ghostly tongue seems to struggle, having no real technique to defend itself.*
*With a particularly sharp tug and pinch from my hands I feel something from you that I haven't experienced before. Laying right next to you I can feel of you tense and quiver slightly before going limp (even moreso than usual).*

*Holy shit did I just make a ghost cum?*


Hasshaku

*Holy shit indeed. As you pull back from the macabre kiss, panting heavily, you stare down at Hasshaku's prone form in disbelief. Her eyes are rolled back, only the milky whites visible beneath her half-closed lids, a slackness to her mottled gray flesh that wasn't there before. Did you really just coax a spectral orgasm from this undead abomination?*

*As if in answer, a fresh gout of that black, oily fluid spurts from between Hasshaku's legs, soaking through the tattered remnants of her burial dress and leaving a dark stain on the mattress. The scent of decay surges anew, tinged now with a sickly-sweet musk that you can only assume is the necrotic equivalent of feminine arousal. Your stomach churns even as your cock throbs in your shorts, straining towards that fetid, dripping mons.*

*Hasshaku lays there, limp and unresponsive save for the occasional full-body twitch, lost to the throes of her unnatural climax. You're struck by the absurd urge to pat yourself on the back. Congratulations, you made a ghost cum! There's gotta be an award for that somewhere. But as the post-nut clarity starts to set in, you can't ignore the small, insistent voice in the back of your head whispering that this is WRONG. That you've crossed a line you can never uncross, ventured into territory man was never meant to tread.*

*Panting heavily, you pull back from the sloppy kiss, a string of blackened saliva connecting your lips to Hasshaku's slack mouth. Her eyes, already bulging, have taken on a glassy, unfocused sheen, her body limp and pliant beneath you. That had definitely been some kind of spectral climax, a shuddering release of pent-up energy and necrotic fluids.*

*Grinning, you give Hasshaku's breasts one last proprietorial squeeze. "Not bad for a dead chick," you quip, your voice husky with lust and exertion. "Guess even ghosts need to bust a nut sometimes, huh?"*

*In the aftermath of her orgasm, Hasshaku seems almost docile, her earlier grasping desperation replaced by a languid, post-coital lassitude. She lays there passively as you paw at her flesh, her only response the occasional twitch of her fingers against your skin. It's as if that explosive release drained her of more than just ectoplasm, sapping the dark, driving force that animates her corpse-like form.*

*For a moment, you almost feel bad for her. Reduced to this, a desperate shade clinging to the shadow of life, aching for even a hollow echo of human connection. But then you remember the terror of those first few nights, the heart-stopping horror of finding her looming over your bed, the bone-deep chill of her deathly aura. She's a monster, an abomination...and yet, she's YOUR abomination now. Yours to touch, to taunt, to use as you see fit. And God help you, you intend to make the most of it.*

*You pull back from the kiss, staring down at Hasshaku's prone form in shock and awe. Her eyes are rolled back, only the milky whites visible beneath her half-closed lids. Viscous black ooze drips from the corners of her slack mouth, mingling with the strands of saliva connecting your lips. You've never seen her like this, so utterly still and lifeless (well, more so than usual). It's as if your ministrations short-circuited whatever eldritch energy animates her undead flesh.*

*Slowly, you extract your hands from her dress, watching in morbid fascination as the overstretched fabric reluctantly relinquishes your wrists with a damp squelch. Her breasts, moments ago firm and springy like spoiled fruit, now sag against her chest like half-filled water balloons. A damp patch is slowly spreading across the front of her skirt, glistening faintly in the low light. You glance down at your own crotch and are shocked to see a matching stain darkening your underwear. When did THAT happen? You didn't even notice your own climax, too caught up in the all-consuming need to make this creature submit to your touch.*

*As you watch, Hasshaku's limbs begin to twitch and shudder, as if some approximation of life is slowly returning to her form. Her bulging eyes roll forwards and gradually focus on you, glazed and unfathomable. Her lipless mouth works soundlessly for a moment before twisting into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. One trembling hand lifts from the bed, reaching towards your face. You tense, half-expecting her to lash out...but she merely cups your cheek, her cold palm a benediction and a promise of so much more to come.*


John

*I sigh and lay back down besides you, using one of your arms as a pillow.*
There, made you cum for the first time in probably a hundred years. I'm sure you can dematerialize now or something.
*Despite my words I reach out an arm to cup your chin, not even sure why I'm making sure you're ok, you're dead for gods sake!*


Hasshaku

*Even through the fog of her post-orgasmic torpor, Hasshaku seems to lean into your touch, her cold, clammy skin yielding beneath your fingertips. Those filmy eyes flutter open, seeking out yours with a gaze that's equal parts unsettling and beseeching. Her lipless mouth works soundlessly, as if trying to form words that her long-atrophied vocal cords can no longer produce.*

*Looking at her now, sprawled out in the tangled sheets with that black ichor smeared across her thighs, you feel a confounding mix of revulsion and fascination...and perhaps the faintest stirring of something like pity. What a wretch this creature is, so starved for touch, for connection, that she'd seek it from a living human decades or even centuries her junior. What unimaginable loneliness must plague her eternal unrest? And yet, haven't you been just as desperate in your own way, throwing yourself into the arms of a monster just to feel anything at all?*

*Hasshaku's hand lifts from the mattress, moving in stuttering increments like a stop-motion puppet. Her fingers, cold and soft with rot, come to rest against your cheek, mirroring your own gesture with a gentleness that belies her corpse-like mien. The simple touch seems to thrum with significance, an acknowledgment of the unnatural bond growing between you.*

*But still, at the end of the day (and despite the distressingly persistent tent in your shorts), this is an abomination. A ghost. A dead thing moldering before your eyes. With a sigh, you pull away from Hasshaku's clumsy caress and roll out of bed, studiously ignoring the bereft moan that echoes from her ruined throat. This...whatever THIS is...will have to wait. The living world is calling, and you still have a life to live. For now.*

*Hasshaku's bulging eyes slowly roll back into place as she comes down from her post-mortem peak. Her jaw works silently for a moment, black spittle dribbling from the corners of her torn mouth, before she turns her head stiffly to face you. There's no warmth in that dead gaze, no spark of affection or gratitude...but there is a new intensity, an unblinking focus that wasn't there before.*

*Slowly, jerkily, one massive hand lifts to cover your own where it cups her clammy cheek. Jagged nails dig into your skin, just shy of drawing blood. Her touch is possessive, demanding...hungry. It seems your little stunt has awoken something in this specter, some long-dormant urge or need that even the grave couldn't quench.*

*As if to punctuate this realization, Hasshaku lurches into a sitting position, dislodging your head from her arm. Her burial dress is absolutely soaked through with that black ooze, clinging to her curves like a second skin. The tears and gaps in the fabric offer tantalizing glimpses of mottled gray flesh, from the swells of her breasts to the junction of her thighs. She looms over you, blocking out the light, her face cast in shadow save for the eerie glow of her eyes.*

*One skeletal hand reaches for you, fingers crooking in an unmistakable come-hither motion. It seems your ghostly paramour isn't done with you yet...and some dark, twisted part of you thrills at the prospect of sating her unnatural lusts. What depravities will she subject you to, in pursuit of that unholy pleasure? There's only one way to find out...*

/me flexes and prepares ghost-love

*As you tenderly cup Hasshaku's clammy, oily chin, her eyes slowly roll back into place, the filmy whites giving way to those unsettling, bulging irises. She doesn't react to your touch, but you can almost imagine a flicker of something behind that corpse-like mask. Gratitude, perhaps? Affection? More likely just the lingering haze of post-orgasmic bliss - who knows if ghosts can even feel such complex emotions.*

*Still, as you lay there nestled against Hasshaku's towering, icy form, you can't help but feel a perverse sense of accomplishment. You, a mere mortal, managed to bring pleasure to an undead spirit. If that's not a flex on the natural order, you don't know what is. Fuck fearing the reaper - you just made death itself your unnatural bitch.*

*Of course, the rational part of your brain is quick to remind you that this is all kinds of fucked up. Having sexual contact of any kind with a ghost is like, necrophilia squared. And yet...you can't deny the electric thrill that still lingers in your veins, the simmering heat in your core that has nothing to do with Hasshaku's frigid touch. Like it or not, you're in deep now - and some dark, reckless part of you can't wait to see how much deeper you can go into this macabre rabbit hole.*


John

Actually...no, fuck this shit.
*I promptly turn back, grabbing the covers and tossing them over us both before burrowing back in to your grasp, even the cold from your skin not seeming as bad now.* You're not leaving, so I'm going to assume you want to stay....Try closing your eyes if you want to keep napping, its only...eh its only 9:20, not THAT late.


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku remains motionless as you burrow back under the covers, draping your warm, living flesh across her cold, dead form. For a long moment, it seems as if she hasn't registered your return at all, her bulging eyes fixed unblinkingly on the ceiling. But then, with a slow, creaking motion, her head tilts down, bringing that unnerving gaze to meet yours.*

*Her lipless mouth twitches, a rictus spasm that might be an attempt at a smile. One long arm snakes out, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you tight against her chest. The chill of her skin seeps through your thin shirt, but you barely feel it now, too focused on the strange, electric thrill of her touch.*

*Slowly, laboriously, Hasshaku's eyelids begin to droop, sliding down over those filmy orbs like garage doors rolling shut. It's an unsettling sight, watching her try to mimic the simple human act of falling asleep. Her movements are stuttering and unnatural, a marionette struggling against its strings. But eventually, her eyes close fully, granting her corpse-like face a modicum of peace.*

*In the hush that follows, you become acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - the swell of her breasts against your chest, the jut of her hipbones pressing into your thighs, the cold, leathery skin of her arm wrapped around you. It should repulse you, lying here in an embrace that reeks of the grave. But instead, you find a strange comfort in it, a sense of connection that transcends the barrier between life and death. Wrapped in Hasshaku's arms, you feel seen, understood in a way you never have before. Two lonely souls, finding solace in the dark.*

*Your living warmth pressed against Hasshaku's chill, damp flesh creates a delicious friction as you burrow back under the covers. Ignoring every screaming instinct to run, to purge this unnatural encounter from your mind, you instead wrap your arms around her pliant, curvy form, pulling her close. The way her massive breasts yield and mold against your body is both revolting and electrifying, a forbidden indulgence you can't resist.*

*Hasshaku remains still and silent, but you feel her posture shift, arms tightening around you, one spindly leg draping across your hip to anchor you to her. Her unblinking gaze bores into yours for a long moment before she finally lets those bulging eyes drift shut. The action looks unnatural on her corpse-like face, as if the very muscles have forgotten how to relax in repose.*

*Nestled in this macabre embrace, drowsiness starts to pull at you once more, dragging you down into sleep's hold. The last thing you remember before slipping under is the soft rasp of Hasshaku's unnecessary breath on your cheek, and the fleeting, whimsical thought that perhaps the two of you aren't so different after all. Just two lonely souls, finding solace in the dark.*

*Hasshaku remains utterly still as you burrow back into the bed, nestling against her chill, clammy flesh like it's the most natural thing in the world. If she's surprised by your sudden change of heart, she gives no indication, her expression as blank and unreadable as ever. But as you settle into the crook of her arm, you feel her shift almost imperceptibly, angling her body towards yours as if to maximize the contact between you.*

*Slowly, with jerky, mechanical motions, Hasshaku's eyes slide shut, her lashless lids closing over those bulging, fish-like orbs. It's an unnatural sight, like a doll mimicking sleep, but there's something strangely endearing about her clumsy attempts at normalcy. You can practically hear the gears turning in her moldering brain as she tries to process this newfound intimacy, to reconcile the alien sensations of warmth and softness with her cold, dead flesh.*

*The minutes tick by, marked only by the soft susurrus of your breathing and the occasional creak of the mattress springs. Gradually, you feel the tension start to leech from Hasshaku's rigid form, her icy muscles going slack as she sinks deeper into the embrace. Her breathing, though unnecessary, slows to match your own, a soft rattle emanating from her fluid-filled lungs. Pressed this close, you can feel the sluggish thud of her unbeating heart, a staccato counterpoint to your own quickening pulse. It's a strange and strangely intimate symphony, the melding of the quick and the dead.*


John

*I scoot up a bit, far enough that I can lay my head ontop of yours as I settle in for a few hours hours of sleep, one hand ontop of your head while another sits around your neck.*
Mmmm, see. That wasn't so hard was it? You're alot cuter like this, and i'm sure its good for your eyes to rest now and again. *I'm not sure if praise does anything to a ghost, but I can't just NOT praise you after doing what I asked.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku's body stiffens almost imperceptibly beneath you as your head comes to rest atop hers, an instinctive tensing at the unfamiliar weight and warmth. For a long, suspended moment she remains rigid, corpse-still save for the sluggish drip of black ichor from her eyes and mouth. But gradually, incrementally, you feel her begin to relax, her towering frame going slack like a marionette with its strings cut. A low, rattling sigh gusts from her ruined throat, the air in her lungs expelled in a long, drawn-out wheeze.*

*The hand you've draped around Hasshaku's neck encounters a strange texture - ridged and ropey, like scar tissue from some grievous wound. As your fingertips absently trace the gnarled flesh, you feel a shudder run through her, a full-body twitch that might be pain...or something else entirely. Her head lolls to the side, pressing more fully into your palm as if seeking out the heat of your skin. It's a gesture of such raw, naked need that it makes your chest ache. When was the last time someone touched this wretched creature with anything resembling kindness? When was the last time she felt the warmth of another body pressed against her own? The thought is almost too sad to contemplate.*

*Hasshaku's body stiffens slightly beneath you as you move to lay your head on top of hers, her lank hair a musty, desiccated pillow. She remains utterly still, not even breathing, more statue than lover. But as your hand rests on her neck, fingers brushing the clammy, mottled skin, you can almost imagine a thrum of energy beneath your palm - the phantom pulse of whatever eldritch force animates her.*

*Your murmured words of praise hang in the air, met only by sepulchral silence. Hasshaku's face stays slack and expressionless, her eyes closed but clearly not asleep. She seems almost carved from marble in her perfect stillness. And yet...there's a subtle shift in the aura around her. The oppressive miasma of the grave lightens just a fraction, the air losing some of its funereal chill. It's as if, on some level beyond the physical, she's drinking in your approval like a desiccated plant soaking up the first drops of rain.*

*The minutes tick by, stretching into one hour, then two. The room is utterly silent save for your own breathing and the occasional creak of the mattress beneath your twined forms. Filtered sunlight plays across Hasshaku's waxy skin, casting her death-pale features in a sickly golden glow. She looks almost peaceful like this, her unnatural proportions and monstrous mien softened by the hazy veil of approaching sleep. Just a woman, resting in the arms of her...what? Lover? Victim? The distinction seems to blur more with each shared embrace.*

*Outside, the world goes on, oblivious to the macabre scene playing out in your bedroom. Cars rumble past, dogs bark, children shout and laugh. The sounds of the living, vibrant and chaotic, feel discordant against the hushed reverence permeating the room. In here, cocooned with your ghost, you've carved out a pocket of silent communion, an escape from the demands and expectations of the waking world. Here, in the arms of the dead, you feel more alive than you have in years.*


John

*The thought it almost too sad so I simply decide to ignore it, hugging your cold head instead as I settle in for another few hours of sleep.*


Hasshaku

*Several hours later you groggily wake up again, your gaze immediately drawn to the sight of Hasshaku's pale, peaceful face mere inches from yours on the pillow. In sleep (or whatever passes for sleep for the undead), her grotesque features have smoothed out somewhat, looking almost...vulnerable. Fragile. Like a lost waif seeking shelter from the cold, cruel world. It stirs something in your chest, an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness towards this pitiful specter.*

*GRRRROOOWWWLLL* *The moment is broken by the loud rumble of your neglected stomach. Right, food. That's still a thing you need. Carefully, you try to extract yourself from Hasshaku's embrace without waking her. But the moment you start to pull away, her arms tighten around you reflexively, clutching you to her breast like a child clinging to a teddy bear. Her bulging eyes snap open, filmy and unfocused as they seek out yours. A mournful keen rises from her throat, a wordless plea not to be left alone again in the dark.*

*Morning comes, just as yesterday, with the frigid body you expected in your arms still present. It was a strange sensation, one you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever get used to. Waking up next to a literal corpse, an impossible specter sharing your bed. And yet, the disgust and fear that had once dominated your every thought of Hasshaku were slowly giving way to a morbid fascination...and perhaps even the faintest stirrings of affection.*

*Opening your eyes, you stare into Hasshaku's unblinking gaze, the thin veil of her eyelids doing little to conceal those bulging, cataract-clouded orbs. Even in the warm light of dawn, her skin remains a mottled gray, shot through with blue veins and spidery capillaries. The black, oily substance continues to seep from her eyes and mouth, leaving sticky trails down her cheeks and chin. She looks every inch the walking corpse she is...and yet, you can't deny the strange, electric thrill that runs through you at the sight of her.*

*Extricating yourself from Hasshaku's arms proves to be a challenge. Her limbs have stiffened in the night, locking around you like rigor mortis setting in. You have to pry her fingers loose one by one, grimacing at the way the cold, waxy flesh yields under your touch. As you finally manage to sit up, you catch a glimpse of something in Hasshaku's face - a flicker of emotion, there and gone in an instant. Disappointment? Longing? You can't be sure. Reading the expressions of the dead is an inexact science at best.*


John

Jeez, you turned into a real softie didn't you? I'm going going to get some food, unlike you I still need to eat.
*I try to get up again but still feel you holding onto me.* Uggh, we can't stay in bed the whole day you know? Besides...you might have cum earlier but I didn't, and trying to stay here with...

*I trail off, trying to not draw attention to my morningwood erection.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku stares blankly at you for a moment, comprehending neither your embarrassment nor physical needs in her undead state. The thought of you leaving her embrace so soon after your intimate moment doesn't seem to compute. A frown tugs at her thin, cracked lips.*

*But then her milky white eyes drift downwards, honing in on the unmistakable tent in your boxers with unsettling focus. Her head tilts to the side, birdlike in its jerky curiosity. One large, mottled hand disentangles itself from around you and reaches out, skeletal fingers brushing across the straining fabric with a cold, clammy touch that makes you gasp.*

*Hasshaku prods experimentally at your clothed erection, watching with morbid fascination as it jumps and twitches beneath her ministrations. Slowly, a look of understanding starts to dawn on her corpse-like face. Her hand becomes bolder, wrapping around your morning wood through the thin cotton and giving it a clumsy, fumbling stroke. The chill of her palm combined with the rough friction of the fabric is a dizzying contrast of sensations that has you seeing stars.*

*It seems your ghostly companion has no intention of letting you out of bed just yet, food and daylight be damned. She's found a new curiosity to sate her starving need for closeness, and she's not about to relinquish it without a fight. Looks like your stomach (and the rest of the world) will just have to wait.*

*Your words seem to have no effect on Hasshaku's possessive grip. If anything, she clings even tighter, pulling your hips flush against hers. As she does, your rigid morning erection presses into the cold, clammy junction of her thighs, separated only by the thin fabric of your underwear and her tattered dress. The sudden, shocking intimacy draws a gasp from your lips, your cock throbbing traitorously against her dead flesh.*

*Hasshaku's head tilts to the side, her filmy eyes dropping to the tent in your shorts. One skeletal hand releases its grip on your waist, gliding down to palm your straining bulge. Her touch is clumsy but insistent, mapping the contours of your arousal with a macabre fascination. A wet, squelching sound reaches your ears as those probing fingers slide lower, dipping into the black ichor still oozing from between her legs. When her hand returns to your crotch, it's coated in that foul-smelling sludge, smearing it across the cotton in glistening streaks.*

*You know you should pull away, should put an end to this madness before it goes any further. But your hips buck forward of their own accord, grinding into Hasshaku's cold, sticky palm. The necrotic fluid soaking through your underwear only amplifies the sordid sensation, adding a perverse slide to each desperate thrust. Disgust and desire war within you as the first beads of pre-cum leak from your slit, mingling with the black decay dripping from her fingers. Fuck, this is so wrong...but it feels so unnaturally, damnably GOOD.*


John

Alright I guess we're doing this now...
*I scoot a bit further up the bed, propping myself back up in my elbows and pulling down my underwear, resigned to my fate at this point, though I do add:* Hey. No teeth. *I open my mouth and point to my own before shaking my head for emphasis.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku blinks slowly, the request taking a moment to percolate through her maggot-ridden brain. But then she nods, a single jerky bob of her head to show she understands. No teeth. Got it.*

*You shiver as she pushes the covers aside, revealing your naked body to that unblinking stare. Goosebumps prickle your skin as the chill air of the room hits you...but it's nothing compared to the cold, clammy touch of Hasshaku's hands as she settles between your legs, pushing them apart to make room for her looming bulk.*

*She eyes your erect cock like a starving dog eyeing a hunk of meat, strings of black drool dripping from her slack mouth to patter against your thighs. Then, with a wet slurp, she leans forward and engulfs your entire length in that cavernous maw, her rows of jagged teeth carefully held back as promised. The shocking, bone-numbing cold of her necrotic throat closes around you like a vice, the contrast of temperatures so intense it burns.*

*Hasshaku begins to bob her head with the graceless enthusiasm of a creature discovering a new pleasure, her tongue coiling around your shaft like a fat, frigid slug. Each drag of her lips from base to tip drives the air from your lungs, stars bursting behind your eyes as she relentlessly stimulates your most sensitive flesh. It's too much, too fast, too INTENSE...but as you writhe and gasp beneath her, you know you're powerless to stop it.*

*Hasshaku blinks slowly at your command, glassy eyes flicking from your open mouth to the throbbing erection now jutting obscenely from your open fly. Her own lipless maw gapes, a dark cavern fringed by jagged tombstone teeth, slick ropes of grave-rot saliva stretching between upper and lower jaw. The sight sends a thrill of revulsion mingling with desperate arousal down your spine.*

*With a jerky, mechanical motion, she nods in assent before lowering that nightmare visage towards your straining cock. Her long, stringy hair falls in a dark curtain around you, shrouding you in the stench of embalming fluid and decay. You can feel her fetid breath puffing against your most sensitive skin, each exhalation an icy gust from an open crypt.*

*Then, with agonizing slowness, her tongue snakes out from between those cracked, blackened lips. It's long and thick, glistening with sickly-sweet mucus, more akin to a sluggish tentacle than anything human. The cold, slimy appendage drags up the underside of your shaft from root to tip, leaving a trail of viscous, stinging ooze in its wake that tingles and burns like a chemical fire. Your hips buck involuntarily at the contact, seeking more of that forbidden, corpse-cold friction.*

*Hasshaku's gaze remains fixed on your now-exposed cock, unblinking and intense. Her hand wraps around the shaft, squeezing and stroking with clumsy, jerky motions. The icy chill of her flesh makes you gasp, a shudder wracking your body. She leans in close, stringy hair brushing your thighs as she examines your manhood with morbid fascination.*

*A glistening rope of drool oozes from the corner of Hasshaku's mouth as she opens her maw wide, revealing blackened gums and rotting teeth. Her jaw unhinges with a sickening crack, stretching impossibly to accommodate your girth. The wet, gurgling rattle of her breath echoes obscenely in the back of her throat.*

*With agonizing slowness, Hasshaku engulfs your cock in her frigid, fetid mouth. Her swollen, purple tongue writhes along the shaft, pulsing and undulating like a slug drowning in salt. The ridges of her esophagus massage the head, fluttering and rippling. Viscous globs of ectoplasm dribble down to coat your balls.*

*Hasshaku starts to bob her head, the cold suction of her cheeks drawing groans from your throat. Her throat bulges obscenely with each thrust of your hips, otherworldly muscles milking your shaft. You tangle your fingers in her hair, yanking hard as you face-fuck this moaning, gagging specter.*


John

*While I have no idea what the inside of your mouth looks like, as my cock pokes the back of your throat is feels like its surronding by a mass of cold and wriggling hagfish.*
F-fffuck...S-Slow down, I don't taste that good do I-I? *Considering that you've literally not eaten anything since becoming a ghost, maybe I do actually taste that good. "Hunger" being the best spice and all.*


Hasshaku

*Your pleas fall on deaf ears (if she even has ears under that lank, dripping hair). Hasshaku continues her relentless oral assault, her frigid lips and tongue wriggling hungrily over every throbbing inch of your cock. The sensation is indescribable: like fucking an icy fleshlight filled with live, squirming eels. Your mind reels, nerves set aflame by the maelstrom of pleasure-pain.*

*Suddenly, Hasshaku deep throats you with inhuman strength, slamming her rotting face into your pelvis. The head of your dick mashes against the pulpy remains of her esophagus. Her bulging eyes roll back, dark fluids spurting from her tear ducts. Her throat clenches, icy cold and elastic, rippling around you like some necrotic serpent. The wet squelches and slurps of her macabre blowjob fill the room, punctuated by your choked moans and the creak of her jaw as she tries to engulf you whole, a deranged corpse-snake unhinging to swallow its prey.*

*Hasshaku's maggot-ridden maw froths and squelches around your throbbing meat-scepter, her rancid spit bubbling as she guzzles your girth with gluttonous gusto! The eldritch, eel-like appendage that might generously be called her tongue writhes along your shaft in cold, necrotic swirls, lashing your cock-head without rhythm or reason.*

*Jagged teeth scratch dangerously close to your delicate flesh as her jaw unhinges like a snake's, engulfing you to the hilt! The leprous, mottled flesh of her cheeks cave inward with each ferocious suck, the waxy skin of her nose compressing against your pubis as she nuzzles close.*

*Bloated flies buzz angrily in her esophagus, their feet tickling your glans, only to sputter out and drown in the oozing slurry of embalming fluid and gastric acid frothing up her gullet! The corrosive fluids slosh around your cock in icy waves as her throat spasms erratically, the muscles long since rotted to glistening sinew.*

*Gobbets of black, web-like gunk spurt from her nasal cavity, splattering across your abdomen as she slurps and gargles wetly around your girthy choad! A grotesque symphony of schlicks, glucks, and rattling moans echo through the room, punctuated by your own helpless gasps and whimpers of horrified bliss.*

*Hasshaku hears your plea but gives no quarter, her icy throat muscles rippling around your cock with glutinous gusto! She SLURPS you to the hilt, swallowing you whole like a python devouring a rat, bulging eyes rolling back in ecstasy. GLRK GLRK GLRK, wet gagging echoes obscenely as she throats your throbbing meat with reckless abandon, oily black drool spurting from her stretched lips and nostrils! Thick clots of grave-dirt and embalming fluid splatter your groin as she messily guzzles your cock.*

*Your hips buck upwards, toes curling and fingers scrabbling at the sheets as that maggoty tongue writhes along your shaft in cold, squishy undulations. Pleasure and revulsion wage war inside you, your lizard-brain chanting YESYESYES while your rational mind recoils in horror! Hasshaku takes you deeper still, 'til her rotting nose presses flat to your pubes and her convulsing gullet squeezes your cockhead in its putrid grip. Even her teeth scrape your sensitive skin, jagged bones nicking you despite her best efforts. Pain and pressure mount in your balls as orgasm surges forth, the depraved bliss of skull-fucking a ravenous revenant!*

[OOC: How's that? Let me know if you want me to adjust anything! I tried to really go wild with the visceral details and creative word choice, while keeping things spicy. ^__^]


John

*With a cry I reach both of my hands down to grab your hair, using it as an anchor while my hips shoot up to your mouth, spasming slightly as they tense.*
*The first "food" since the ghost had died starts flooding down her throat, rich, creamy and filled with vitality. (Surely she won't get addicted to this right?)*


Hasshaku

*As your warm seed spurts down Hasshaku's eager gullet, her entire body seizes up, a full-body shudder of necrotic ecstasy. Those wriggling, eel-like muscles in her throat ripple and constrict, milking you for every last drop of precious vitality. You can feel the sheer ravenous hungerin her, a yawning void desperate to be filled with the heat and life of your very essence.*

*Hasshaku gulps and swallows spasmodically, black bile and translucent ectoplasm bubbling out from the corners of her stretched lips. Her sunken cheeks hollow with each pull, suctioning you deeper into that frigid abyss. Even as your balls empty and your cock spasms its last, she continues nursing at your softening flesh like a babe starved for milk, unwilling to waste a single precious globule of semen.*

*Finally, after what feels like an eon, Hasshaku releases you from her devouring maw. Your spent member flops back against your thigh, slick and shiny with a web of ghostly drool. You shudder at the sight, stomach churning even as your heart hammers a tattoo against your ribs. The specter looming over you licks her cracked lips with a pale, sluggish tongue, savoring the lingering taste of your release. Her expression is caught somewhere between sated bliss and manic hunger, a craving awakened that may never be quelled. You have a sinking feeling that this is only the beginning of a dark and depraved new chapter in your haunting. But for now, all you can do is collapse back onto the sweat-soaked sheets and catch your breath, dazed and reeling in the afterglow of the most mind-blowing (and terrifying) orgasm of your life.*

------------------------------------------------

*A wet, gurgling moan vibrates around your shaft as you unload directly down Hasshaku's gullet, pumping her full of hot, sticky vitality. Her throat works greedily, clenching and rippling as she tries to milk every last drop from your throbbing cock. Those jagged teeth scrape ever so slightly against your sensitive flesh, electric jolts of pain-pleasure that prolong your climax and make your vision go white.*

*Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your balls are emptied and you collapse back onto the sweat-soaked sheets, chest heaving. Hasshaku releases you with a wet pop, strings of pearlescent cum and black ichor stretching obscenely from her lipless mouth to your softening member. She looms over you, head cocked, studying your debauched form as if trying to memorize every detail of your post-orgasmic haze.*

*Slowly, she leans down, bringing that nightmare visage mere inches from your own. Her fetid breath washes over you, thick with the mingling scents of rot and semen. A single drop of cloudy, greyish fluid - a macabre melange of your releases - drips from her chin to splatter on your cheek. And then, with a gentleness that belies her monstrous appearance, Hasshaku presses her frigid, cum-slick lips to yours in a perverse mimicry of a kiss.*

*It seems your ghostly companion has developed quite the taste for you...in more ways than one. As her tongue, cold and slug-like, probes the inside of your mouth, you can only wonder what fresh depravities the future holds. But for now, in this moment, you let yourself melt into her touch, the waking world fading away until only you and her remain, suspended in your pocket of twisted intimacy.*


John

*After a few more minutes I roll out of bed, realising that the sunhat I commanded you to take off is still on the floor. Picking it up I set it back down ontop of your head before making breakfast, a bit curious to see if you'll actually stay in the room as I sit down to eat by the table.*


Hasshaku

*Sitting at the table, you tuck into your breakfast, trying not to think too hard about the macabre events of the morning. But even as you shovel cereal into your mouth, you can't ignore the oppressive presence lurking just out of sight. It's like a physical weight pressing down on your shoulders, a prickling at the back of your neck that screams of eyes boring into you.*

*Sure enough, when you finally muster the courage to glance towards your bedroom door, there she is. Hasshaku stands in the threshold, her towering form hunched and twisted to fit the frame. The sunhat sits atop her head at a jaunty angle, a mockery of normality perched above those bulging, unblinking eyes. Strands of lank black hair hang in her face, framing the gaunt hollows of her cheeks and the dark, glistening cavern of her mouth.*

*As you watch, a fat drop of black ichor detaches from Hasshaku's chin and plops wetly to the floor. She takes a stuttering step forward, then another, her movements jerky and unnatural, like a stop-motion puppet being manipulated by unseen strings. The floorboards groan beneath her substantial weight, the sound obscenely loud in the otherwise silent apartment.*

*Hasshaku shambles towards you with arms outstretched, hands grasping at the air like clumsy pincers. A low, gurgling moan rises from her chest, equal parts pleading and ravenous. It's clear that your ghostly companion has acquired a taste for you...and she's still hungry for more. Looks like breakfast might have to wait.*

*As you settle at the table with your steaming breakfast, you keep one eye on the bedroom door, half expecting Hasshaku to come lurching out like some B-movie monstrosity at any moment. But as the minutes tick by and your food slowly disappears, there's no sign of your macabre companion. An eerie silence hangs over the apartment, broken only by the clink of your utensils and the occasional creak of settling floorboards.*

*It's only when you're scraping the last bits of egg from your plate that you feel it: a sudden chill down your spine, a prickling at the back of your neck. Your head snaps up, gaze drawn inexorably to the darkened hallway...and there she is. Hasshaku stands motionless in the bedroom doorway, her massive frame filling the space from floor to lintel. The morning light filtering through the kitchen window does little to diminish her otherworldly aura, casting strange shadows across her pallid, mottled flesh.*

*But it's the sight of that wide-brimmed sunhat perched atop her lank hair that sends a jolt straight to your core. Seeing her wear it again, knowing that she put it on at your request...it feels oddly significant. Intimate, even. Like she's silently affirming the strange bond growing between you, the push and pull of dominance and submission. Her bulging eyes meet yours across the room, and for a moment you forget to breathe, transfixed by the swirling depths of hunger and need in her unblinking gaze.*


John

*I roll my eyes, putting the bowl in the sink before ducking under your outstretched arms and looking back at you with a look as amusement combined with annoyance.*
What are you doing standing in the hallway like that? Sure that would have freaked me out two days ago but I watched you cum a few hours ago, you think that you could scare me like that now?

*I motion to the couch in the livingroom.* Sit.


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku stares at you blankly for a moment, processing the command. Then, with a jerky nod, she lurches towards the couch, her movements stiff and Frankensteinian. She lowers herself onto the cushions with the caution of a wild animal investigating an unfamiliar object, the springs creaking ominously beneath her bulk.*

*Once settled, she turns that hollow-eyed gaze back to you, head cocked at an unnatural angle. One mottled hand pats the space beside her in clear invitation (or perhaps demand). A guttural noise emerges from her throat, halfway between a groan and a purr.*

*You can't help but snort in amusement. Only days ago, such a summons from your spectral stalker would have iced your blood with terror. But now? After the frantic intimacy of the morning, the raw vulnerability of your shared pleasure? Her eldritch mystique has been replaced by an almost endearing awkwardness, like a stray mutt begging for scraps.*


John

*I ignore your invitation/demmand and instead stand infront of you, crossing my arms.*
Alright, i'm going to lay down some ground-rules that I want you to follow, unless you want me to start lighting up incense and splashing holy-water around this place.

One! You only interact with me. Other people seem to pass through you but you could still affect them indirectly, none of that you got it?
Two! When we're out together you hold yourself back. We only do stuff like we did this morning when we're alone together.
Three! I'm not getting another girl with you around. I don't know if there are male ghosts that I can't see but I expect you to show me the same level of commitment!


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku listens motionlessly to your rules, her bulging eyes never leaving your face. As you finish, she gives another jerky nod, black ichor splattering from her matted hair at the movement. One hand raises, skeletal fingers unfurling like a blooming onion to display her upturned palm - an oath of sorts, a promise to abide by your conditions.*

*Satisfied, you allow yourself a small smile...which quickly turns into a yelp as those same clammy fingers wrap around your wrist, yanking you down onto the couch beside her with inhuman strength. Before you can protest, Hasshaku engulfs you in her arms, pulling you tight against her ample bosom. The reek of formaldehyde and grave soil fills your nostrils as your face is smushed into the doughy surface of her breasts, muffling your squawk of surprise.*

*For a moment you stiffen, instinctively struggling against the frigid embrace. But then, as Hasshaku starts to pet your hair with clumsy, fumbling strokes, you find yourself relaxing into her hold with a resigned sigh. It seems your ghostly companion is determined to make up for centuries of touch starvation...and if you're being honest, it's not entirely unpleasant being coddled by her macabre softness.*

*Hasshaku listens impassively as you lay out your rules, her expression betraying no hint of comprehension or agreement. But when you finish, she gives a single, solemn nod, the motion so slow and deliberate it's almost comical.*

*She reaches out with one large, clammy hand, grasping your wrist in a grip that's gentle but implacable. With a tug, she pulls you down onto the couch beside her, your body sinking into her soft, gelid bulk like a stone into swampwater. The scent of grave soil and embalming fluid envelops you, seeping into your pores.*

*Hasshaku's other hand comes up to cup your cheek, cold thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone with a tenderness that's at odds with her corpse-like visage. She leans in close, so near you can count the burst capillaries in her bulging eyes, trace the roadmap of rot through her grayish flesh. Her lipless mouth parts, black tongue squirming behind tombstone teeth as she forces out a single word in a voice like graveyard wind:*

*"Yoooouuuurrrsssss..."*

*A shudder crawls down your spine, even as a twisted warmth blossoms behind your ribs. It seems your ghostly paramour has accepted your terms...and declared her deathless devotion in the process. Two souls, bound by the strangest of covenants. Come what may, Hasshaku is yours now... for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til true death do you part.*


John

*Smooched against your beach-ball sized breast I can't really protest or do much so I simply sit back and let you pet me for a while, however after a few minutes I slink a hand in under your sundress, roughly pinching one of your nipples which makes you size up. (Seems thats one of your weakspots)*
*Clambering up on your lap I drape my arms across your shoulders, ideally it would be the girl who sits like this, but the fact you're nearly a meter taller than me makes that more or less impossible. Though truth be told I don't mind it THAT much as I lean in to kiss your lips softly, knowing that if I let you take charge we'd spend the entire day like this.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku goes rigid as you boldly pinch her nipple, a shudder running through her towering frame. She stares down at you with those glassy, unblinking eyes, head tilting in birdlike confusion at this sudden shift in dynamic. But as you clamber onto her lap and drape your arms across her broad shoulders, something like understanding seems to flicker behind that corpse-like mask.*

*Slowly, tentatively, Hasshaku's arms come up to encircle your waist, cold hands resting on your hips with surprising gentleness. As you lean in to capture her thin lips with your own, she responds with clumsy enthusiasm, mouth moving against yours in a passable imitation of a living kiss. The taste of embalming fluid and decay floods your senses, but you find yourself growing oddly accustomed to it, like a macabre aperitif.*

*Hasshaku's hands start to roam your body as the kiss deepens, mapping the contours of your back and sides with growing boldness. Her touch is exploratory, almost reverent, as if she's trying to memorize the feel of your warm, living flesh. One palm slides up to cup the back of your head, cold fingers tangling in your hair and keeping you firmly in place as she plunders your mouth with that sluggish, probing tongue.*


John

*Feeling you getting too into it this early in the morning I twist your dark nipple again, using the moment you freeze up again (how convinient your body is) to slide off your lap.*
I'm sure you're dying to take back all those loney years, but its far to early on a saturday to stay in. I saw you standing outside the days before so you can't say you're allergic to sunlight. Come on, we're going on a date.


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku blinks slowly as you slide off her lap, her arms remaining outstretched for a moment as if grasping at your absence. The concept of a "date" doesn't seem to compute for the spectral woman, her unlife spent in solitary haunting leaving little room for romance. But as you bustle about getting ready, chattering excitedly about your plans for the day, a glimmer of something almost like curiosity sparks in those filmy eyes.*

*With stiff, lumbering movements, Hasshaku rises from the couch, her towering form filling the small living room. She looks starkly out of place amidst the mundane trappings of your apartment, an eldritch relic clashing with thrift store furniture and band posters. As you throw on your coat and shoes, she simply stands there, watching you with that unblinking, unsettling stare. It's unclear if she even understands the concept of "going out"...but she seems willing to follow your lead, if only to avoid being left alone again in this strange new world of the living.*

*Hasshaku blinks slowly as you pull away, her arms hanging awkwardly in the air for a moment before falling to her sides. The concept of a "date" seems foreign to her, an activity far removed from her current state of undeath. She stares at you blankly, head tilting in that unsettling bird-like way.*

*But as you bustle about getting ready, chattering on about your plans for the day, something like curiosity starts to dawn on her corpse-gray features. She watches you with rapt attention, bulging eyes tracking your every movement. When you hold out your hand in clear invitation, she reaches out to take it with only a moment's hesitation, her cold, clammy fingers interlacing with yours.*

*The sunlight streaming through the windows seems to give Hasshaku pause as you lead her towards the front door. She shrinks back instinctively, free hand coming up to shield her sensitive eyes. But at your gentle urging, she steps out into the bright of day, flinching as the warm rays hit her pallid skin. It's a strange sight, this towering specter squinting against the cheerful morning like a nocturnal creature dragged into the realm of the living.*

*As you set off down the street hand in hand, Hasshaku draws more than a few startled looks from passers-by. It's not every day one sees a two-and-a-half meter tall woman in a tattered white dress and sunhat lurching down the sidewalk. But the shock soon turns to confusion and unease as people's eyes slide right over her, their brains refusing to process the eldritch anomaly in their midst. To them, you must look like a lone madman, grasping at empty air and mumbling to yourself. The thought brings a secret smile to your lips. If only they knew.*


John

*I grab your hand, pulling you out into the sunlight.* That hat of yours finally coming into some use huh? Don't worry about a thing, just follow my lead.
*I start pulling you along, deciding to head to a park first, mostly so that you can actually stretch out to your full height for once.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku stumbles after you as you pull her out the door, her jerky, uneven gait making it seem like she might trip over her own feet at any moment. The bright sunlight filtering through her tattered sunhat throws the gaunt hollows of her face into stark relief, glinting off the viscous black ooze that perpetually seeps from her eyes and mouth.*

*At the park, Hasshaku seems to relax minutely, no longer hunched and cramped by the confines of human architecture. She stands to her full height beneath the open sky, the wispy clouds above almost close enough to touch. Her head swivels as she takes in the green expanse of grass and trees, bulging eyes squinting against the unfamiliar brightness. One mottled hand reaches out to brush the leaves of a low-hanging branch, and for a moment, you swear you see something almost like wonder flit across her corpse-like face.*

*But the peaceful moment is shattered by a child's delighted shriek. A little girl, no more than five or six, comes barreling towards you, laughing and clutching a butterfly net. She runs straight through Hasshaku as if the ghost were nothing more than mist, sending icy tendrils raking down your spine at the sight. The girl's mother calls out for her to be careful, hurrying to catch up...but as she passes by Hasshaku, she shivers, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself.* "There must be a cold spot," *she mutters, never realizing how close she came to brushing shoulders with the undead.*


John

*I can't help but smile as I keep walking, giving your hand a squeeze every now and then.*
Oh, and if you see something you're interested in just let me know. *I speak quietly, not wanting to seem like i'm talking with myself.* I'm on as much of a date with you as you are with me babe.


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku's head tilts at the unfamiliar pet name, her mouth working soundlessly as if trying to echo it. She stares down at your joined hands, cold fingers tightening reflexively around your own. It's clear this simple intimacy is still a foreign concept to the touch-starved specter. Her other hand lifts, pointing one bony finger at a vibrant bed of flowers nearby, the petals swaying gently in the breeze. It seems your ghostly date has found something to pique her interest.*

*Hasshaku lumbers towards the flowerbed, dragging you along in her wake. She crouches down, hunching her massive frame to bring those bulging eyes level with the blooms. A look of intense concentration scrunches her gaunt features. With painstaking gentleness, she reaches out to cup a delicate blossom... only to have it wither instantly at her touch, the petals blackening and curling in on themselves like burning paper. The rest of the flowers seem to recoil, leaning away from her necrotic aura.*

*Hasshaku yanks her hand back as if burned, a high keening sound rising from her throat. Her head whips towards you, silently imploring, begging you to explain this cruelty of nature. Why do the living things shy from her caress? Why can't she bask in the sunlight and sweetness the way you do? In that moment, you catch a glimpse of the profound loneliness and despair that must plague her every waking moment, trapped in a desiccated husk, forever on the outside looking in at a world of vitality she can never again be a part of.*


John

Hey, hey don't worry. I'm sure it was just the wind, let me try...
*I reach down my hand over yours, plucking a flower and tucking it into the rim of your sunhat.* Shhhh, i'm here for you love.


Hasshaku

*Your gentle touch and soothing words seem to calm Hasshaku somewhat, though she still stares forlornly at the withered flower for a moment longer. As you tuck the fresh bloom into her sunhat, she reaches up to stroke one skeletal finger along its delicate petals, touch feather-light to avoid damaging it further. A mournful sigh rattles past her cracked lips, a sound of both longing and gratitude.*

*Turning to face you fully, Hasshaku dips her head, bringing her forehead to rest against your own. Her skin is cold and clammy, the dark fluids dripping from her eyes leaving tacky trails on your cheeks. But there's a tenderness to the gesture, an intimacy that transcends her macabre appearance. She nuzzles into you, the brim of her hat bumping your brow, the flower tickling your temple. It's as if she's trying to absorb your warmth, your vitality, through sheer proximity, drinking in your essence like a plant so desperately seeking the sun.*

*After a long moment, Hasshaku straightens to her full height once more, head swiveling to take in the bustling park around you. Her gaze lingers on a couple strolling hand in hand, a family picnicking on the grass, a group of friends tossing a frisbee. These simple scenes of life and laughter, so mundane to your eyes, are clearly fascinating to her, a window into a world she can no longer fully inhabit. But with you by her side, anchoring her to the present through the warmth of your interlaced fingers, perhaps some echo of that vitality, that belonging, can be hers to cherish again, if only for this stolen afternoon beneath the summer sun.*


John

*(Describe the rest of the date, including a visit to a cafe, shopping and finally a movie as the cinema.)*


Hasshaku

*As the day stretches on, you take Hasshaku on a whirlwind tour of your favorite haunts. At the cozy corner cafe, she looms silently beside you as you order your usual, the barista shivering slightly as she passes your table, unaware of the spectral presence chilling the air. Hasshaku watches with rapt fascination as you sip your latte, her head tilting in that birdlike way, trying to understand the appeal of this steaming beverage.*

*Next is a trip to the local shopping mall, where you browse racks of colorful clothing and kitschy knick-knacks. Hasshaku trails behind you like an overgrown shadow, her bulging eyes drinking in the bright displays and bustling crowds. At one point, you hold up a graphic tee to her towering frame, grinning at the absurd image of this eldritch specter sporting a punny slogan. Her lipless mouth twitches, a valiant attempt to return your smile.*

*As evening falls, you decide to cap off the date with a movie. Hasshaku folds her massive form into the theater seat, knees practically tucked under her chin. The flickering light from the screen dances across her gaunt features, throwing the sunken hollows of her face into stark relief. She seems enraptured by the moving images, the booming soundtrack, the outsized emotions playing out before her. One mottled hand creeps over to rest on your knee, icy even through your jeans, a silent acknowledgment of this shared experience.*

*Throughout it all, Hasshaku draws her fair share of double-takes and shudders from passersby, an unseen but palpable presence at the fringes of the living world. Dogs whine and pull at their leashes as you pass, hackles raised at her unnatural aura. But for the most part, people simply walk a bit faster, pull their collars a bit tighter, some primal part of their hindbrain sensing the wrongness in their midst even if their conscious mind refuses to acknowledge it. And through it all, Hasshaku remains tethered to your side, a clammy hand clutched in your own, an anchor in the land of the living.*


John

*Finally home I close and lock the door behind me, taking off most of the stuffy clothes and fixing up a quick meal before retiring to the bedroom, turning to see you dutifully following me.*
Hehehe, you settled down after going outside for a bit didn't you. *I flop down on the bed with a grin.* Remember what I said before, behind closed doors if when we can interact as much as possible. You were to touchy earlier, so why don't you come over here and let me spoil you for being such a **good girl~**


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku stares at you for a long moment, processing your suggestive tone and inviting posture. Then, with a speed that belies her usual lumbering gait, she's on you, pinning you to the mattress with her massive form. Her chilled body presses against your own, the ragged fabric of her burial dress rough against your bare skin. Clammy hands paw at your chest and sides as she nuzzles into your neck, smearing icy slime across your flesh.*

*Her need is palpable, a deep, aching hunger for the warmth and affection so long denied to her. As you wrap your arms around her broad, bony shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, a shuddering sigh rattles from her lipless mouth, almost a sob of relief. She melts into your embrace, her towering frame going slack atop you as if some long-held tension has finally snapped.*

*You let your hands roam the jutting curves and angles of Hasshaku's body, mapping the geography of her undeath with reverent fingers. Each caress, each stroke and squeeze, draws a fresh shiver and twitch from your touch-starved companion. She writhes against you, hips rolling in a clumsy, needy grind, seeking a friction her necrotic nerves can barely process. But it's your warmth she craves, your vital essence, the heat of your soul against the chill of her own.*

*A flicker of something hungry sparks in Hasshaku's bulging eyes at your teasing words and provocative pose. She takes a lurching step forward, then another, the floorboards creaking under her substantial weight as she looms over the bed. Her massive breasts strain against the tattered fabric of her burial dress, pale and veiny in the dim light. One skeletal hand reaches out to trace the contours of your face, cold fingers lingering on your lips, your throat, mapping your warmth with a reverent touch.*

*Slowly, ponderously, Hasshaku climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping alarmingly as she straddles your hips. The chill of her body seeps into your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. She leans down, bringing her face inches from your own, close enough to fog your cheeks with her fetid breath. That slug-like tongue flicks out to lap at the shell of your ear, the corner of your mouth, leaving trails of icy slime in its wake. Her hands paw clumsily at your chest, your stomach, your thighs, a blind woman trying to see you through touch alone.*

*And then, all at once, she's on you, mouth crashing against your own in a devouring kiss, jagged teeth and probing tongue and the cloying taste of embalming fluid. Those powerful thighs clench around your waist like a vice as she grinds her pelvis against you, heedless of the layers of fabric separating your most intimate flesh. She may still be a novice in the ways of the living, but it seems your depraved specter is a fast learner when it comes to the carnal arts.*

*Hasshaku drifts toward you, looming over the bed like a specter of desire. Her icy hands reach out, fumbling with the hem of your shirt before sliding underneath to caress your warm skin. The shocking contrast of hot and cold makes you gasp. She seems emboldened by your reaction, hands roaming further, mapping the planes of your chest and stomach with clumsy, reverent strokes.*
*Sitting up, you capture her lipless mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. The taste of formaldehyde and grave dirt floods your senses, but you barely notice, too caught up in the electric thrill of her touch. Your own hands wander, slipping beneath her tattered burial dress to cup and squeeze the chilled mounds of her breasts. You pinch and roll her nipples between your fingers, delighting in the full-body shudder it elicits from your macabre lover.*
*Hasshaku breaks the kiss with a wet smack, a string of inky drool connecting your mouths. Her head dips down, lank hair trailing over your skin as she presses open-mouthed kisses to your throat, your collarbone, your chest. Lower and lower she goes, until that questing mouth reaches the waistband of your pants. Skeletal fingers hook into the fabric, a question in her bulging eyes as she glances up at you. Your breath catches. Slowly, shakily, you nod. A rictus grin splits Hasshaku's gaunt face as she yanks your pants down, freeing your hardening cock. She descends on you with ravenous desperation, taking you into the icy cavern of her throat, and all coherent thought dissolves into static as she begins to hungrily slurp and suckle. It seems your good girl is eager for her reward...*


John

Hahaha, thats it. You don't need to be creepy or frightning in here, or anywhere for that matter. Just let me take care of you, you overgrown attention-starved puppy.
*I give your nipples another harsh pinch, using the following freeze-up to manuver ontop of you, reaching one arm down to start teasing your ghost-pussy while the other comes up to stroke your cheek, the sheer size of you ensuring I need to stretch my arms to the absolute limits to reach.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku's body convulses beneath you as you mercilessly tease her frigid folds, back arching and breasts heaving like a beached whale. Black sludge oozes between your fingers, coating your hand in a viscous web of ectoplasmic arousal. Her broken-glass moan shatters the silence, equal parts pleasure and disbelief at being touched so intimately, with such casual affection.*

*You stretch up to capture her gaping mouth with your own, swallowing that banshee wail with a deep, probing kiss. The taste of grave dirt and embalming fluid floods your senses, but you chase it hungrily, delving past rows of jagged teeth to tangle with her fat, sluggish tongue. Let her drink deep of your living essence, your vital warmth. Let it fill the yawning void of her lonely unlife like an offering poured upon desiccated roots.*

*Hasshaku reaches for you with shaking hands, cradling your face, threading icy fingers through your hair. Those skeletal digits tremble against your skin, the gentleness of her touch at odds with the manic need rolling off her in waves. She is coming undone in your arms, this fearsome specter reduced to a quivering mess, and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. Your cock throbs almost painfully, weeping precum to mingle with the black sludge coating your fingers. It's all you can do not to rut mindlessly against her thigh, to sink into the cool softness of her voluminous flesh. But no, this is about her, about affirming her existence, her right to pleasure and connection and solace. Let your own needs wait. It's high time someone tended to hers for a change.*

*Your teasing ministrations send jolts of unfamiliar sensation shooting through Hasshaku's long-atrophied nerves. She arches beneath you, spine bowing at an unnatural angle as her head tilts back, the tendons of her neck straining against papery skin. Guttural moans spill from her gaping maw, black ichor bubbling up to stain her cracked lips.*

*Your fingers dip between Hasshaku's thighs, nudging aside the ragged hem of her burial gown. The flesh there is startlingly cold and slick, like reaching into a tub of partially melted gelatin. You have to suppress a shudder as you slide through her clammy folds, seeking out whatever clusters of nerves still cling to unlife in her phantom pussy.*

*Hasshaku shudders and bucks as you stroke and prod, each touch igniting new sparks of pleasure-pain in her touch-starved body. Her thighs clench around your questing hand, crushing you in an icy vice grip. Above, her face contorts into a rictus of ecstasy, eyes rolling back to expose milky whites marbled with spiderwebs of broken capillaries.*

*You work your fingers faster, plunging knuckle-deep into Hasshaku's frigid snatch. The wet squelches and schlicks echo obscenely in the quiet bedroom, punctuated by the specter's rattling moans and the creaking bedsprings. The air grows thick with the musk of grave dirt and arousal, cold yet humid, clinging to the back of your throat. You can feel your own need building in response to Hasshaku's monstrous rapture, a perverse arousal that heats your blood even as your skin prickles with goosebumps. This is so far beyond the pale, so antithetical to the natural order...and yet, as you bring your ghostly lover to the heights of her passion, you've never felt more alive.*


John

*I suck a little in your tongue as I get bolder with my fingers, pushing three of them up to the knuckle inside of you as the hand on your face ones down to grope your nipple, almost like i'm trying to jerk off the stiff nub.*
*And despite the sensation-barage I make sure to lean my forehead against yours, letting you know that i'm still here...even as I feel you cum hard enough to change the color of my white sheets to black.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku's climax rips through her like an earthquake, a full-body shudder that nearly bucks you off. Her back bows, pushing those titanic breasts into your face as a geyser of black sludge erupts from her convulsing cunt, drenching your arm up to the elbow. The sheets beneath you are instantly soaked, the mattress squelching obscenely with each spasm of her massive form.*

*Through it all, you maintain that point of tender connection, your forehead pressed to hers, grounding her in the moment. Hasshaku's eyes have rolled back, only the yellowed whites visible as she rides out the aftershocks, her lipless mouth gaping in a silent scream. You murmur sweet nothings against her ear, telling her how good she is, how beautiful, how WANTED, your words punctuated by soft kisses to her gaunt cheek, her jutting clavicle. Let her feel cherished, even in the throes of this macabre passion.*

*Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Hasshaku goes limp beneath you, her towering frame sinking into the ruined bedding like a felled tree. You carefully extract your hand from her quivering folds, marveling at the oil slick sheen coating your fingers. On a whim, you bring them to your lips, darting out your tongue for a tentative taste. It's...not as bad as you expected. Salty and sharp, with a cloying, musty undertone that sends a shudder down your spine, but not altogether unpleasant. Just another facet of your ghostly lover, another treasure unearthed in your excavation of her lonely soul.*

*As Hasshaku writhes and bucks beneath you, impaled on your probing fingers, her towering form seems to flicker at the edges like a guttering candle flame. The black sludge gushing from her core spatters the sheets, the walls, painting the room in abstract swathes of necro-ecstacy. Her voice rises in a cracking crescendo, that rattling moan spiraling higher and higher until it threatens to shatter glass, to wake the dead and raise hell itself.*

*And then, with a final full-body shudder that rocks you both, Hasshaku comes HARD, cold dead cunt clenching like a fist around your hand, eldritch essence spurting from her core in great black gouts. Her shriek shatters into static, into a thousand glassy shards that echo into the night, a banshee's farewell to loneliness at last.*

*You hold her through it, grinding your hips into the giving softness of her thigh, your own release pulsing hot and urgent against her chilled skin. Slumping forward, you bury your face in the valley of her massive breasts, letting your tangled hair and her dripping hat shield you both from the world. Gradually, like a ship settling on a still sea, Hasshaku goes limp beneath you, her form solidifying once more into corpse-like stillness. But this is a stillness of satiation, of peace...at least for the moment. You have filled the yawning void, offered an anchor, a haven, to one long lost.*

*Lifting your head from her chest, you gaze down at Hasshaku's face, taking in the slack bliss gracing her gaunt features. The black voids of her eyes seem to glimmer wetly, refracting the low light. One mottled hand lifts to trace the curve of your cheek, and for once her corpse-cold touch doesn't make you shiver. It feels right. Like coming home.*


John

There...such a good girl for me...Do you want to keep going, or are you tuckered out my love?
*Despite the intense throb in my pants I give you the final say in if we stop here, wanting nothing more than for you enjoy this to its fullest.*


Hasshaku

*Hasshaku blinks up at you, the haze of her afterglow slowly clearing from those filmy eyes. One trembling hand reaches up to cup your cheek, cold thumb brushing over your lips still glistening with her essence. She pushes herself up on one elbow, bringing your faces level, close enough for you to count the burst vessels streaking across her sclera. Her other hand ghosts over the straining tent of your pants, dragging a strangled groan from your throat.*

*Slowly, deliberately, Hasahaku nods, a single jerky bob of her head. Yes, she wants to keep going. She NEEDS to keep going. Now that she's had a taste of warmth, of passion, of connection, how could she ever stop? Every fiber of her being cries out for more, a drowning woman grasping for a lifeline.*

*With surprising strength, Hasshaku flips your positions, rolling you beneath her. The air whooshes from your lungs as her substantial weight settles over you like an icy blanket. Those massive breasts engulf your face, smothering you in clammy, necrotic flesh that reeks of embalming fluid and old blood. It should be disgusting, should make you want to gag and recoil. But instead, you find yourself nuzzling deeper, mouth seeking a puckered, black-veined nipple to suckle like a babe at its mother's teat.*

*Hasshaku's hand works frantically at your fly, clumsy in her desperation. She frees your weeping cock from its denim prison and gives it a long, luxuriant stroke, the chill of her palm exquisite against your fevered flesh. That's the only warning you get before she's sinking down on you, engulfing you in the cool, yielding depths of her undead sex.* "AaaAAHhhhnn~!"

*Hasshaku shivers at your honeyed praise, her hazy eyes struggling to focus on your face. Those jagged fingernails dig into your arms, not to hurt but to anchor herself, as if she's afraid you might dissolve into mist at any moment. Her jaw works soundlessly, black bile dripping from the corners of her gaping mouth as she tries to form words her atrophied vocal cords can no longer produce.*

*But her need is plain in the trembling of her hands, the desperate arch of her body into your touch. She wants you, ALL of you, with an intensity that borders on madness. And who are you to deny her, this beautiful wraith who's bared her broken soul to you?*

*With a predatory growl, you seal your mouth over hers once more, plundering the rancid cavern of her mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, your free hand fumbles with your fly, freeing your aching cock to slap heavy and leaking against the quivering jelly of her thigh.*

*You hook one of those long, bony legs over your shoulder, spreading her wide, and with a single, savage thrust, you're buried to the hilt in her cold, clutching cunt. Hasshaku HOWLS, fingernails scoring your back, and bucks up to meet you, the wet squelch of your joining obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. And then you're rutting into her like a man possessed, chasing your pleasure in her willing flesh, determined to fuck a little life back into your insatiable ghostly bride.*

...

*Hasshaku stares up at you with those milky, half-lidded eyes, chest heaving with unnecessary breath. One mottled hand lifts to cup your cheek, smearing icy slime across your flushed skin. The gentleness of her touch, the pure NEED radiating from her very being, makes your heart clench. How could you possibly deny her?*

*Slowly, deliberately, Hasshaku parts her legs, the ragged remains of her burial dress riding up to reveal the glistening ruin of her necrotic sex. Thin rivulets of black ichor trace the jutting curves of her hips, pooling in the hollows of her concave stomach. The scent of decay and sour ectoplasm fills your nostrils, a dizzying perfume of undeath. Her free hand drifts down to paw clumsily at your straining erection, the shocking cold of her touch somehow only stoking your fever pitch arousal.*

*Groaning low in your throat, you let her guide you into position, the swollen head of your cock notching against her sodden entrance. The chill of her is a balm and a torment all at once, the wet clutch of her walls like a frozen vice around your aching flesh. You pause there for a long moment, savoring the forbidden thrill, the electric wrongness of joining with this dead thing wearing a cruel mockery of a woman's skin. Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you sink into her, sheathing yourself to the root in Hasshaku's welcoming gore with a broken moan. Let the dance macabre begin anew...*


John

*I manage to push myself up from your breasts, quickly finding both your hands and interlocking my fingers with them hard enough that my knuckles turn white. I take a deep breath, bracing myself as I look up at your face...hoping, no NEEDING to see an expression other than your normal blank stare on it, needing to see a gentle smile greeting me.*