Gay And Ghostly
by Alexander


In the deep subconscious of my mind, I knew rather than felt that I was dead. Dad, I seemed to remember vaguely, had swerved to avoid something in the road and had hit a tree. Hard. How or why I died didn’t concern or even worry me – in fact in some ways I was relieved. At least it would be a novel and hopefully interesting experience and I hadn’t had one of those since Andrew and I had first jerked off together at the back of the science lab. almost a year ago. Well, it was a Biology lesson after all.

“It’s a bit of a bummer though,” I thought, “Dead at 14 years old isn’t very funny.”

And that was it. I had the sensation of floating somewhere in the air, looking down on the scene of the accident. The emergency services had arrived and was surprised that I could actually hear the men frantically shouting to each other as they tried to sort out the carnage. More than that, I was stunned to realise, I was able to feel their emotions just as well as I was able to hear them speaking. In fact it was extraordinarily difficult to sort out whether a man was actually talking or whether he was just thinking.

Gazing down at my father, I knew that he wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t exactly in the pink of health either. He must have knocked himself into a coma, or had fallen asleep, bored with waiting for the ambulance to arrive I reasoned. The ambulance men, realising that I was already dead left me alone and were busy extricating the old man from the wreck.

“We’ll get the kid out later,” one man said (or was it thought?), looking closely at me. I smiled as I caught a quick thought that flashed through his mind: “Must try to get at look at his prick later! He’s a good looking lad and must have a nice one.”

I suddenly realised that although I was staring down on the accident, I could see my own body half in and half out of the front windscreen, my eyes wide open, looking for all the world as if I was minutely inspecting some minor blemish on the paintwork of the car.

“Cool,” was my first reaction.

I don’t know whether it is normal or not, but for a dead person I felt perfectly at peace and absolutely no emotion whatsoever whilst watching somewhat disinterestedly what was going on. I was much more concerned with myself (as usual!).

There was so much happening beneath me that I didn’t know where to look, but eventually decided that I would take a good look at myself to see what had happened to my body. Much to my intense surprise I suddenly found myself hovering just above it. It took a moment or two for me to realise that apparently I could transport myself from place to place by just thinking about it. A quick trip into what was left of our car and back confirmed this, much to my delight! I’d dreamed of this sort of thing many times before, wondering just what it would be like if we were able to fly around like the birds. It must be good to do that, but this was much, much better. There was no effort involved at all and the move seemed to be instantaneous. Calming myself down, I returned to take a closer look at my mortal remains, one thing uppermost in my mind.

Taking only a mildly interested glance at the shard of glass that had pierced my chest, and had probably killed me, I tried to get a good look at the single part of my body that I devoutly hoped had remained undamaged and in working condition. Thankfully, I found that my prick was in one delightful, undamaged piece: Andrew would never forgive me if I’d injured that particular part of me.

Very much relieved, I contemplated what had brought Dad and me out that sunny afternoon. As usual, it was my fault. My fault that I was now dead; my fault that Dad was now on the way to hospital, and most importantly, my fault that he’d written off his almost new car – his pride and joy.

Half an hour ago I was slightly worried. Dad and I were on the way to my school where we were going to have what I knew was going to be a more than usually interesting talk with the Head. I hadn’t had the inclination to tell Dad what it was about, I just gave him the letter saying that it was of the utmost importance that he and I saw the Head and Mr. Johnson as soon as possible. Of course Dad asked me what it was all about, but knowing that he might get just a little bit upset if I told him, I did the normal thing and lied that I hadn’t got the faintest idea. Naturally, he’d guessed I was lying, but having decided that he would find out soon enough anyway, was satisfied with simply giving me one of his ‘Now what the hell have you done?’ looks. In reply I simply shrugged my shoulders and gave him my best ‘Who me?’ face.

What had happened in fact was that I had been caught with my trousers down. Literally. I don’t think that in itself that was much of a problem for Mr. Johnson – at least I was in a toilet cubicle with the door closed. What probably pissed him off most was that I had my cock rammed up Andrew’s arse at the time. I am sure that no matter how pissed off Johnson was, I was even more upset than him because I was just getting to the short strokes. At least he could have waited until we’d finished, but I suppose the noise of the door resonating in sympathy with our passions alerted him to the possibility that not all was as it should be in cubicle three.

Anyway, the one shocked and totally inappropriate expletive “Fucking Hell!” from somewhere behind us determined fairly quickly that Andrew and I suddenly lost all interest in our activity. My prick, being just as shocked as I was, also lost interest in life and resumed its more usual (but unhappy) flaccid state in what must have been a record time.

Andrew too seemed somewhat unhappy, probably because I hadn’t finished what I had started. After all, it was his turn to get fucked and he had been looking forward to it ever since I had persuaded him (without much difficulty I may add) to toss me off during a rather boring Social Studies lesson earlier that day on condition that I fucked him at the earliest opportunity.

The mental image I have now of two boys standing closer together than is strictly proper and decent in a toilet cubicle built for one, and semi-naked with their trousers and pants keeping nothing but their feet covered, in front of an obviously embarrassed teacher of Biology, I find distinctly amusing.

I don’t think Mr. Johnson found the situation anywhere near as entertaining as I did, one clue being that his face was now almost as red as the end of my prick. Perhaps he wasn’t too happy with the noise the door had been making, or (more likely) that we should have been in a Religious Studies class at the time and not shagging each other in the toilet.

“Dressed and out!” was all he could utter before turning away, “Head’s Office,” he added as an afterthought as he slammed the door shut with rather more vigour than was needed.

Unhurriedly Andrew and I dressed, partly because we were pissed off not being able to finish our (to us) entirely personal business, and partly because we didn’t think the Head should be at all interested in our private activities. Eventually we couldn’t put off the visit any longer and we found ourselves being spoken at rather bluntly by our Headmaster. I didn’t think it was really necessary, but for some reason or other he decided that it would be in our best interests if Andrew and I left the school immediately and forthwith, if not sooner. And didn’t return until we had been interviewed together with our parents. Naturally, I tried to explain that I thought this wasn’t strictly speaking a good idea, as it would only upset both Andrew’s parents and mine. After all wasn’t the fact that Mr. Johnson and the Head were already pissed off enough? Taking the opportunity to continue with my plea whilst the two teachers seemed to be having a joint asthma attack or something, I quite reasonably explained that it wouldn’t do anybody any good just making more people upset and angry.

They didn’t seem to follow my logic unfortunately. Mentally I put it down to the usual lack of empathy with their pupils that most teachers seem to share. That, and an unhealthy interest in their sex lives.

Deciding to have one more try to get through to them, I looked at Andrew, and taking his hand in mine explained that we had been sucking and fucking each other for almost a year now, and no one has complained before – least of all Andrew or me. In fact, I gave him my sweetest smile and added for the sake of completeness, that we both actually enjoyed it. Furthermore, I said that as we lived in opposite directions from the school and couldn’t see much of each other outside school hours, at least we came here every day (in more ways than one I almost added, but decided that they wouldn’t think it funny), which was more than a lot of other kids did. Think what would happen, I concluded, if we had bunked off school and been seen by a little old lady doing it in the park: she would have probably died of a heart attack or something. Or even worse, one of us had been picked up by some of the ‘strange men’ he kept telling us about in school assemblies.

This seemed to work because The Boss sat down, heavily, in his chair, obviously thinking about what I had said. He seemed to be having difficulty with his breathing still, as his mouth was opening and closing in a good impression of my goldfish at home.

Still thinking about it five minutes later, he speechlessly pointed to the door. At first I was going to tell him that I thought it was a very nice door; a bit too dull for my taste, but it wasn’t too bad on the whole as doors go, when I thought that maybe he wanted Andrew and I to go through it – which we did.

It was only just after two o’clock, and as school didn’t finish until three, we had the best part of an hour to kill.

“Come on,” I said to Andrew, who by now seemed to have cheered up, “Let’s hit the park and finish what we started.”

Diving into our all too rarely used secret little hideaway in the bushes, Andrew and I quickly divested ourselves of our lower garments once more and lay down on the soft grass.

“Come on then, dickhead!” Andrew said as he lay on his back with his feet in the air, “Give it to me!”

We had only fucked this way once before, when we were left in the Art Room to “tidy up” one lunch-time, and it was absolutely the end. We had screwed each other like jack-rabbits for almost an hour, and up until then was the best sex we’d had. The session had got so involved that we completely forgot the time and only just managed to stop before the bell went for the afternoon lessons to start. To give the teacher her due, she wasn’t at all surprised to see that we had done little, if any, clearing up. She did comment however on the strange smell in the room. If she had taken the trouble to look down at the storeroom floor and seen the gallons of white, sticky mess, she might have got a clue. She might have also guessed what it was if she had seen that neither Andrew nor I had managed to fasten our flies or belts in our haste to get dressed.

Thinking quickly, and not really wanting to frighten her with the sight of our unfastened trousers, I told her that we had accidentally spilt some glue on the floor and had got most of it up, but there was a bit left.

“Never mind, I’ll do it,” she said, “Get me that rag over there.”

Handing it to her like the good student I was, we both watched as she scooped the goo up into a neat pile with her fingers before wiping it up.

“Be careful you don’t get any in your mouth,” Andrew commented heavily as we made our way to the door, managing to fasten our trousers at last.

Thinking of this episode as I looked down at Andrew’s beautiful ass, I gently eased my cock into it.

“I’ll bet Johnson was just jealous of us,” I said as slowly and with feeling I began to fuck my best friend, enjoying the unexpected opportunity to finish what we’d started earlier.

“Yeah, But he’s got no fucking chance!” Andrew giggled, “You’re the only one for me. You fit perfectly.”

Knowing that we had plenty of time on our hands, I screwed Andrew slowly and thoughtfully, concentrating my efforts on trying to stimulate his ‘magic spot’ as well as I could.

Such was our relaxed sort of relationship, I even managed to hold a conversation in between the moans of pleasure we shared, punctuating each sentence with a deep butt-thrust to emphasise the point. Eventually, deciding that whatever problems the school and our parents shared weren’t any of our concern, we put them to the back of our minds as we concentrated on the job in hand (or should that be arse?). It wasn’t very long before I climaxed beautifully and massively. Glancing at my watch whilst waiting for my now sore tool to relax, Andrew grinned as I told him that we had just enough time for him to screw me if he got a move on.

Happily, he sprang to his feet, his magnificent prick already showing sign of the pleasures it was about to receive. Closing my eyes, I relaxed, moaning with joy as I felt his tool slide gently into its home. This time we were both silent, concentrating on deriving as much pleasure as we could from the demonstration of our close friendship.

As usual, the time sped by and it only seemed like a minute or two before we were due to make our separate ways home. Hurriedly and delightfully kissing each other almost to orgasm again, I fished in my jacket pocket for something to clear the mess off my shirt with.

Luckily I found a scrap of paper and carefully scraped up the spots of spunk which somehow had found their way onto both Andrew’s shirt and mine. Realising just a bit too late that the ‘scrap of paper’ was the summons for Dad and me to attend school, I attempted to wipe the mess off on the grass. Didn’t work very well though, I noticed. The envelope was now criss-crossed not only with drying spunk, but also lurid bright green stains!

“Oh well,” I thought, “At least the outside gives a clue to the contents now.”

Giving each other a quick hug, we ran off in opposite directions towards our respective homes. Or at least walked as fast as our pleasantly tender backsides allowed.


I was getting bored now. The ambulance had gone off with Dad in it, and my own remains were being loaded into what looked like a large bin liner. The medic who has thought about my prick earlier got his thrill I was pleased to see. As he ‘tidied me up’ he managed to undo my trousers and get a good eyeful and quick grope. Once again I caught his feeling of pleasure as he did this. It was a bit of a shock to him however as I concentrated very hard on my prick, and was delighted to see it stir just a little when he grasped it.

Deciding to experiment with my new-found freedom I slipped down and floated in front of him. Obviously he couldn’t see me, but I wondered if he could actually feel my presence, or more importantly perhaps feel me if I touched him.

Having nothing to lose I made a grab for his balls and prick. It was just the same as when I was alive I was extremely pleased to find. I could feel the boner through his trousers and noted with some sorrow for the man that his cock was only about three inches long, even with his hard on.

“Not a patch on either mine or Andrew’s,” I thought gratefully.

Andrew! For the first time I thought of the effect my demise would have on my best friend and lover.

Bollocks! I had accepted now that death might be more fun than I realised at first, but the thought of not being able to enjoy Andrew’s company (and body) in the flesh was more than I could bear.

“I wish I was dead!” I thought to myself, forgetting for a moment that for once my wish had come true even before I thought it.

Amazingly, and very much to my surprise, just as I was thinking about him, I found myself hovering above him in his house!

There he was, laying back in a warm, soapy bath smiling to himself and gently playing with his beautiful, hugely erect cock, eyes closed. Concentrating on him I tried to read his thoughts and to my delight found that it was quite easy. He was thinking of me! Flashing through his mind were images of some of the sexier times we had enjoyed together. Remembering them with him, I recognised most of the situations he was recollecting. The Art Room, the school gym (being sucked off whilst hanging upside down from the wall-bars was a real turn-on!), the time we were tossing each other off at the back of the class when he fell of his chair just as he was about to come, and many more. With each memory I could also feel (or rather sense) his intense pleasure.

For the time being he was much more intent on enjoying the memories rather than making himself cum, and so, vicariously, was I. My own prick was now just as erect and hard as his.

“I wonder…?”

Dropping down into the bath, I gently lay on top of him, covering his boner with mine. Andrew’s eyes opened with a start and I felt a shiver run through his body. Glancing round with a look of panic on his face, I sensed that he was afraid. But this soon passed and laying back in the water once more, smiled to himself and began to beat his meat with renewed vigour. Even in death, I thought, I can pleasure him – and him me.

Reaching down and covering the hand he was wanking with, I followed his motions. Andrew took in a sharp breath as I did so and moaned deeply. He could obviously feel my presence as much as I could his.

Tightening my grip on his wanking hand, I succeeded in making him work at it faster and with more passion. Then he came – massively. The spunk ejected in a solid arc, passing straight through me, somewhere in the region of my groin and returning via my neck to drop on his face and chest. I also climaxed, and although I could see the results, Andrew couldn’t of course, but what he did feel was my entire body trembling and shivering with the orgasm. Opening his eyes once more, mildly panic stricken, I heard him say “Fucking Hell!” and caught the thought that he had just had the best solo performance he had ever managed.

I spent the next very happy couple of hours following him around the house, taking a great delight in passing through the wall into a room he was about to enter and making faces at him, safe in the knowledge that he couldn’t see me.

I particularly liked the ability I had to touch his body. I’m not too sure he did though. We were both sat watching TV when experimentally I put my hand on his cock. Once again I was pleased to find that I could still enjoy its warmth and size – it even began to rise to the occasion for me. Andrew on the other hand, didn’t seem quite so happy. As soon as he felt me on him, his whole body tensed with surprise: staring first at his groin and then round the room, he looked more than a bit terrified. Needlessly I thought, after all it was only me. He even unfastened his trousers and looked at his tackle to see what the problem was. This bit I really enjoyed as when he picked his cock up to look at it, I tickled him round his balls. Christ! He nearly hit the roof. Thoroughly enjoying myself by now, I was just about to give him some more of my attention when the front door opened.

“Hello, Andrew,” a distinctly female voice said.

“Hi Mum!” Andrew responded at the same time hastily fastening his trousers, almost trapping the skin of his cock in the zipper.

Shit. His Mother. She never did like me very much – I think she had half an idea what me and her handsome son and heir got up to, but didn’t have anywhere near the courage to ask outright.

Hell! The full implications of my situation suddenly hit me. If I could give Andrew such delight, just think of what I could do to those I didn’t like. Wonderful!

Deciding immediately to try and experiment, I was just about to think myself to Mr. Johnson’s house when the ‘phone went.

I watched idly as Andrew’s mother picked up the ‘phone, but took much more of an interest when her face paled and I heard my name mentioned. Linking my mind to hers I discovered that it was the Police telling her that there had been a bad car accident and I had been injured, fatally. They had found the letter in Dad’s pocket and as Andrew’s was the only name other than my fathers they had found, had contacted her.

Mrs. Brown explained that although she wasn’t a relative, Andrew was a friend of mine. She didn’t know anything about the letter though because Andrew hadn’t had the time to tell her about our summons to the school. That caused some confusion I am delighted to say.

Andrew sat and stared at his Mother, waiting nervously for her to tell him what had happened. At first Andrew thought that it was the school on the ‘phone asking why they hadn’t turned up for the tête-a-tête with the Head.

Listening to his thoughts, Andrew I found was worried. He knew that he hadn’t told her about the incident at school and was terrified that the Head had told her before he’d had the chance. He was even more worried when his mother sat down next to him with tears in her eyes and said that she had some bad news to tell him. Something in his mind told him that it was nothing to do with the school, but nevertheless I was involved somewhere along the line. He was desperately trying to work out what could have happened and what it could possibly be when his mother dropped the bombshell.

At first he went into a state of shock just as I expected him to – in fact I would have been pissed off if he hadn’t. I was amazed and delighted to find that when I read his mind he was badly upset with the news. I know that I liked him very, very much, but I was really surprised to learn how he felt about me. It appeared that he seemed to like me a lot more that I realised – not just as a ‘friend’ but as someone very close and dear to him. It had never really crossed my selfish mind that he could have cared for me just as much as I cared for him.

For the first time in my life (!) I was speechless. And confused. Feeling desperately sorry for him, I tried to find a way of comforting him and moved closer. Putting an arm on his shoulder I found that instead of resting on him as I expected, it actually went straight through his body. Andrew must have felt this as he absent-mindedly rubbed his shoulder as if brushing off a fly or something. I also felt something – as my hand passed through his shoulder I could sense as much as feel his body, warm and somewhat sponge-like, but nevertheless his body. Talk about cool!

It took me a minute or two to realise what had happened and I gingerly put my hand on his arm and pushed – once again is seemed to be absorbed by Andrew and I could even feel his blood flowing down his veins. Experimenting even more I slid across the chair and leaned against him. This time I felt my entire body slip inside his! It was amazing! For the first time since I had died, I felt warm and comfortable, even accepting the fact that I was probably in something approaching a state of shock still.

For a minute or two I had a marvellous time sliding in and out of Andrew – and not in the way I usually did either! Each time I did it I found that it became easier and easier. I also discovered that I could feel the world through him – and with a great deal of effort, make him move his hands and legs under my control. Brill!

In a single leap I had found the solution to one problem that had been niggling away at the back of my mind ever since I had ‘crossed over’. (I’d made up my mind not to use the word dead, as I didn’t really feel I was – quite.) How the hell could I have anything of a sex life when I was permanently invisible? What the hell could I do with an erection apart from indulge in a little self-gratification?

I was sat mulling over these thoughts when I became conscious of the fact that Andrew was crying. Despite the comfort his Mother was trying to give him, I sensed that she was having little or no effect. Suggesting that he went upstairs and have a lie down, Andrew gratefully accepted his Mother’s concern and did as he was told. Without any effort at all, I willed myself to his room and waited his arrival.

Once in his room Andrew lay on his bed and gave vent to his feelings, crying bitterly. If it had been me in his situation, I would have felt sorry for myself, but Andrew didn’t. He felt sorry for me!

I was at a loss as to know what to do for him. I felt that I needed somehow to let him know that I was still around – in spirit if not in body.

In desperation I drifted round the bedroom until spotting a picture of the two of us together at a school party, I had an idea. With all the power I could muster I willed the picture to move from the bookshelf across the room and onto the bed – thankfully I just managed it. Slipping once more into Andrew’s body I made him open his eyes and look down to where the picture had fallen. Slowly, and with more than a little curiosity I watched as he picked it up.

Andrew’s mind was a mass of confusion. He knew that something wasn’t quite right, but was in such an awful state that there was no chance of him working out what was causing it. I tried once more to slide into him but to my dismay found that I couldn’t do it for some reason. Why? Giving the matter as much deep thought as my tiny mind could muster, I worked out that I was only able to get inside him when he was distracted.

That’s it!

I can only do it when his mind isn’t working. Great! Now I knew what to do. I decided that I would try again later that night, just as he was falling asleep.

To kill time until Andrew was in bed and in a suitable frame of mind, I thought of Mr. Johnson again and willed myself to his home.

There he was – sat watching the telly with his wife and son. Hmmmmm – didn’t know he had a son. About 17 I suppose, and looking at him I guessed he was just as nerdy as his old man. Well. There’s a thought.

Sitting on the arm of the chair alongside the boy, I pressed my hand firmly on his cock, which was bigger than I thought it would be. Anyway, it had the effect I desired. He must have felt my hand as glancing across to his father to make sure he wasn’t looking, he gave himself a good rub. Giving it a moment or two, I repeated the exercise with the same result. Each time he did it, his prick, responding as I thought it might, got a bit harder and a bit bigger. Once or twice Mr. Johnson glanced in our direction, saw what his son was doing and grimacing to himself quickly looked away. This was too much! Determinedly I persisted in stimulating him.

“For goodness sake, go upstairs if you want to do that sort of thing, Jeremy!” Mr. Johnson exploded.

Glowing bright crimson with embarrassment, Jeremy did as he was told. Following him up to the bathroom, I watched, delighted, as he stripped off his pants and examined his semi-rigid cock minutely. Finding nothing wrong with it as far as he could see, he re-dressed and went to his room. Hell! Didn’t he even know what that thing between his legs was for, apart from pissing through? There it was, already semi-rigid, and he left it alone? He must be brain-dead.

Flitting back to the living room, I repeated the game on the father; and it wasn’t long before he too was examining his tackle in the bathroom. This time however, I went just a bit further and gritting my teeth against what I knew would be a very distasteful thing to do, grabbed his cock and began to masturbate him. The look on his face as he felt what I was doing was wonderful. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but if he felt half as good as I did when I was tossing off, he couldn’t help but finish what I’d started. Now that was a thought much too far, the sight of which would have made me physically sick, so feeling very pleased with myself I went through the walls into Jeremy’s room and was even more delighted to see that he too was now jerking himself off. Brilliant! I had both father and son wanking themselves at the same time. If only I could get them together somehow.

My thoughts along these lines were suddenly interrupted by an image flashing through my mind of Andrew lying in or on his bed. Instantly I was by his bedside and saw that he was undressed and in bed, almost asleep. As fast as I could I slipped into him. This time it was much easier than before and I was instantly in a sort of mental connection with him.

I tried frantically to try and make him understand what I was doing, but he was far too mixed-up and confused to comprehend. Remembering what I had discovered earlier, I made him get out of bed and sit at his desk. The next five minutes were spent with my making him write down what I’d done. Unfortunately, because I was controlling him, he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d written. I had to leave his body for him to be able to do that, which reluctantly I did. Then the shit hit the proverbial. For a second or two I thought he was going to have a heart attack and join me in the nether world, but he struggled through it and re-read the note at least a dozen times.

Looking round, more than a little anxious, he nervously whispered “Simon?”

I would have given worlds to be able to speak then, but couldn’t. Instead I managed to pick up the pen we’d been using and drop it noisily on the desk.

“Are you here?” he enquired, with an expression remarkably like that of a startled rabbit. I dropped the pen again.


I tweaked his balls to let him know exactly where I was.

That was almost a fatal mistake; Andrew nearly fainted again. Christ! I must be more careful. Still, it did allow me a split second to enter his mind again.

Things were getting better all the time; I discovered that if I was careful we could have a sort of wordless mental conversation. Confusing at first, especially for Andrew, but to give him his due, he rapidly became accustomed to the situation and accepted it for what it was.

The first few minutes were spent in persuading him that he hadn’t gone completely off the rails, and that I really was a ghost. I managed to finally convince him when I told him to take his pyjamas off and lay on the bed. Gently I lifted his cock, and after giving it a few rubs to stimulate it into life, began to suck it. Then he really knew it was me!

The next hour or so we spent experimenting. We quickly learned that with his agreement I could enter his mind almost whenever I wanted. All it needed was for him to agree and know that I could. Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant we thought. Then we thought about the possibilities this opened up. After, that is, we had some superb sex. Once he’d got used to my not actually being there in a physical sense, we did just the same things as we usually did. I even managed to fuck him and really enjoy it.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning Andrew let me know that he was knackered and could do with a rest. Reluctantly I let him go and spent the rest of the night drifting around the town, seeing and learning all sorts of strange things which I hadn’t realised went on in such a small place at night. There was plenty of scope there for some extremely entertaining times in the future.

The following morning, Andrew was sat at the breakfast table, thinking to himself that the events of last night must have been a dream when I decided to convince him that it wasn’t. First I helped him by picking up the milk and poured some on his cereal for him. That convinced him all right! But just to make sure, I drew a nice picture of a set of balls and a prick on the table with the sugar. He almost choked when he saw what I’d done, and only just managed to scatter the crystals away before his mother saw them.

The journey on the bus to school was something else! Going along for the ride, I went with Andrew and actually made my ‘physical’ presence felt by sitting on his lap. Then I had an idea. Looking round at the other kids on the bus, I did something that I had wanted to do for ages, but had never dared.

Sliding through the crowd, I took immense pleasure in feeling the balls of every lad I had ever fancied – and some that I didn’t, just to make sure they weren’t left out. Most of them I managed to frighten, some quite considerably. One or two however, gave me food for thought. They weren’t scared; a couple of them even seemed to like it. They would bear keeping an eye on, I thought to myself.

The best time was during morning break. It must have been habit I suppose, but I found myself drifting about in the toilets – something I often did when I was alive. This time I could actually visit my friends in the cubicles and watch them perform. And I thought Andrew and I were the only perverted ones! Not that I found anyone being as twisted as we were, but I did learn a few new ways of masturbating! And from some surprising people. One particular encounter I enjoyed especially.

There was a beautiful half-caste lad called Peter in the year below me. I almost came in my pants every time I saw him in the toilets at school, and after Andrew he was the person whose trousers I would most liked to get inside. Seeing him go into one of the bogs for a crap, I sat on the dividing wall watching him, anxious to get a good look at his prick for the first time. Seeing him have a shit wasn’t the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen – quite disgusting in fact. But my distaste quickly evaporated when he began to fondle himself and produce an instant and magnificent erection! It was superb and I was determined to enjoy it just as much as he did. His prick seemed to be a little darker than the rest of his superb body: most of his skin was a sort of olive colour, almost Indian-looking. His cock, which must have been at least five inches long and quite thin, was circumcised, which made it supremely attractive, at least in my eyes. Drifting down in front of him, I was just about to bend over and examine his cock in detail when I saw his face. It was almost as if he could see me, and for a split second forgot I was invisible and was acutely embarrassed at being found out. But then I remembered. Peter resumed his occupation, still looking a bit puzzled but nevertheless determined to finish what he’d started.

Feeling a bit braver now, I risked putting my hand under his balls and lifted them slightly so I could have a good grope.

Peter, amazingly, didn’t react. Instead he simply smiled slightly, moved his hands out of the way and slid down on the seat a little so I could get a better feel! Trying to enter his mind to find out what was going on, I found it extraordinarily difficult – harder than I’d found with anybody else I’d tried it with. Suddenly, just as if a door had opened, I found myself reading his thoughts. It was he who’d allowed me in! Taken by complete surprise I slipped out. I was shaken, even for a ghost. Calming down a little, I tried again. This time I managed it first time and searched through his sub-conscious. It wasn’t long before I discovered that he really believed in ghosts (or spirits as he called them), and wasn’t surprised, or even disturbed by my presence.

It was fairly common knowledge round the school by now that I’d died the evening before, and it only took a little explaining before Peter knew who I was. He was much less shocked than Andrew had been: apparently he belonged to some sort of religious group that communed regularly with the ‘spirit world’ and my sudden intrusion into his mind wasn’t that much of a surprise, although the method of introducing myself to him certainly was!

Evilly, I thought of a way to put this discovery to good use. Planting the idea in his mind that it would be an excellent idea if I sucked him off, I slipped out of his body and knelt in front of him. Magically, Peter, who’d been idly fondling himself during our ‘conversation’, took his hand away from his gorgeous cock and opened his legs as wide as he could. It took hardly any effort on my part to give him a brilliant blow-job – the first he’d ever had. It was perfection, for both of us. I even managed to catch some globules of his spunk and play with them in the air. Far from being frightened, he actually enjoyed the spectacle and smiled. Slipping back into his mind, I found that he was not at all upset by what had just happened, actually, he’d fully enjoyed it. And wanted more! Giving him a mental smile, I told him how beautiful I thought he was, and this certainly wouldn’t be the last time I would visit him. In return he told me that he’d often wished he could have some fun with another boy, but up until now had been too scared to try anything on. Then an idea struck me.

“Suppose I could arrange it,” I flashed to him, “Would you be interested?”

His mind lit up like a lighthouse. “You’re not kidding,” he thought, “It’d be fantastic. Can you do it?”

In answer I gave him a mental picture of Andrew and asked if he fancied him.

“OK then, leave it to me,” I told him once I’d got his more than willing agreement, “Be here at 12.30.”

Now for the next stage. Finding Andrew, I explained what I’d just arranged. At first he took some convincing, but once we’d walked over to where Peter was talking to his mates and they had made eye contact, things were all set.

Being a ghost I deliriously decided, was going to be a whole heap of fun!

Half-past twelve soon came and I was hovering about in the toilets, idly watching a 12-year old desperately trying to toss himself off in one of the cubicles without much success. I could sense that he was really pissed off with life, thinking to himself that he must be the only lad in his class who couldn’t manage it. Just to make him feel better I very gently played with his prick and balls for a few seconds and then gave him a mental feeling of what it was like to come. At least he felt a lot better, and it wouldn’t be too long before he found out for himself what it was really like.

Feeling quite pleased with myself I was just about to see what was happening elsewhere when Andrew came in and stood at the urinals, slowly getting his cock out and pretending to have a piss. I could sense him trying to feel if I was around or not, but deciding that I would have a little more fun, didn’t let on that I was there.

The door opened and in walked a couple of young 11-year olds who, seeing that Andrew was using the middle urinal, placed themselves either side of him, took out their tiny cocks and pissed. Once again, reading their minds to see what, if anything they were thinking, I wasn’t really surprised to learn that they weren’t thinking much of anything. Just for the sheer hell of it I implanted an image of an erect cock in one of the boys minds, quickly following it with a picture of his friend. Colouring up bright crimson almost immediately, he hurriedly put his still dripping little cock away and rushed for the door. Just as he was about to open it, in came Peter. The other youngster had also finished and followed his mate out, leaving just Andrew and Peter (and me) in the room. Somewhat nervously Peter stood three stalls away from Andrew and took his dick out, which, I noticed, was already semi-hard. For a good two or three minutes both boys stood there, neither having the courage to make the first move. Thinking to myself that they needed a helping hand, I slipped into Andrew’s body and made him move along until he was standing next to Peter. I also made him get a proper boner.

Without any further help from me, Andrew made a bit of a show of turning to stare at Pete’s erection.

“Nice,” he whispered just loud enough for Peter to hear, “Want a bit of fun?”

Nodding agreement, Peter swiftly turned and without bothering to do up his flies went into the end cubicle, pushed the door to but didn’t lock it.

Andrew, I was a bit surprised to find out, wasn’t very keen on following him. When I read his mind, I discovered that having propositioned the boy, he was more than a bit nervous. After all, I felt him think, the only other person he had ever messed about with was me and this was a whole new ball-game (!) and he wasn’t at all sure about it. Once again persuading him to do as I thought best, I made him follow Peter.

Now secreted away in the cubicle, and the door securely bolted, I was delighted to see that Peter took the lead. Not only had he already dropped his pants to the floor, but his prick was magnificently erect, just waiting for the attention it craved. Andrew, undoing his trousers rather slower than usual was given a very quick helping hand by Peter.

It was a beautiful sight as far as I was concerned – two boys standing face to face, each sporting superb erections. I was in heaven. Not able to wait for a second longer, I helped things along by putting Andrew’s hand on Peter’s prick and making him start to toss him off. Peter was deliriously happy and returned the favour instantly.

Not wanting to be left out of things, I drifted up behind Andrew and touched his butt with the tip of my cock, which by now was harder than the other two put together. At the same time I flashed a picture of myself into his mind, just to let him know I was there – much to Andrew’s relief I might add.

Andrew must have been extremely horny as I felt his butt open up almost instantly to let me slide in. And there we were. It was brilliant – for all three of us. Andrew was being fucked by me (which I know he loved), Peter was being tossed off (for the first time) and was blissfully happy, and I was enjoying both! What made it more exciting was that Peter could sense I was there but hadn’t a clue what I was doing!

It wasn’t long of course before Peter came, not a lot of course because of his age, but it was full of passion. Andrew and I followed fairly quickly, both of us being immensely aroused by the beautiful partner we had.

Slipping out of Andrew, both physically and mentally, I drifted around the room whilst they dressed themselves.

It was with some concern that I saw a couple of lads heading for the toilet just as Peter and Andrew were about to open the door. With a haste I didn’t know I possessed, I stopped Andrew – just in time. Thankfully, he realised what I was doing and didn’t try to resist. I let him go once the boys had left, and even managed to open the door for them.

Once back in the corridor, I overheard Peter tell Andrew that he’d enjoyed himself, and ask when could they do it again.

In reply, Andrew smiled broadly and simply said, “Soon!”

Throwing an immense grin at Andrew, Peter skipped off. He was just about to dash through the door into the playground when I caught a flash from him; “Thanks a million, wherever you are!”

“OK, Andrew?” I asked.

“Brill.” he replied, “Fucking brilliant.”


I left Andrew alone for the rest of the day. Although he enjoyed my slipping in and out of his mind most of the time, it was acutely disturbing when he was supposed to be concentrating on his schoolwork and he reluctantly suggested that I give him some peace. Giving him a mental hug and kiss, I glided away.

Just before I left the school however, I thought of Peter and quickly joined him in his class. He was, I noted with some sort of pride in him, a bright kid. He was sat right at the front of the class, which in my view marked him out as an ‘A’ grade student. (Needless to say, Andrew and I were inevitably always sat on the back row of any class!) Anyway, I slipped alongside him, gave his balls and cock a gentle squeeze and flashed a quick ‘Hi!’ to him.

He hardly showed any physical reaction at all to my presence, but there was a blinding flash of light in my own brain as he returned the greeting. He was certainly well able to communicate with me, almost too well in fact and I had to ask him to cool it a bit.

“Sorry!” he grinned, “But I’m not used to this yet. Oh, and by the way hold my balls again for a minute will you? I like it when you do that!”

More than willingly, I did as I was asked and toyed with him as I put an idea forward.

“Can I come and visit you later at your house? Would you mind?”

He thought this was a brilliant idea, and told me that he went to bed at about ten o’clock, which would be a good time to visit. “But be careful,” he added, “’Cause I’m not sure if my parents or sister will know you’re there.”

This hadn’t occurred to me. If he could feel my presence, then the chances are that his family would also feel something as well. That would need some thought.

The time passed slowly, my mind devoted entirely to my new friend. Even Andrew sensed this as we chatted that evening. The one topic of conversation we studiously avoided was Peter.

Although we talked for most of the evening, I sensed that Andrew knew my mind wasn’t entirely devoted to our conversation. Eventually he got pissed off with me and suggested that either I concentrated on what we were talking about, or I left him alone altogether.

“Go and see Peter if you want,” he flashed at me. “I don’t mind you know.”

Was it that obvious? I stumbled out an apology, and was about to deny thinking of Peter when I realised that would be pointless – he could read my thoughts almost as well as I could read his.

“You sure?” I queried.

“Yeah. Of course. We’re seeing a bit too much of each other anyway – we both need a break.”

I chose to ignore the fact that neither of us could actually ‘see’ each other, but I knew what he meant. This aspect of our friendship hadn’t occurred to me before. Up until now, Andrew was the only person who I could communicate with, and it dawned on me that I had in fact been monopolising him almost continuously since I’d passed over. It must have been quite a strain on him.

“Thanks! And I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t realise.”

“Piss off, prick!” he grinned at me. “Come back and talk later when I’m in bed. And tell me all!”

Giving him a special hug and kiss, I left to go in search of Peter.

That was easy. With a single thought, I was instantly transported to wherever he was.

Peter was sat watching a video in the family room. Also there were his parents and younger sister. Carefully I looked at each in turn, trying to work out if my presence had been sensed. Peter, I realised, knew immediately as he flashed me a mental Hi! which made me reel with its intensity. Begging him to calm down, I asked if the others knew I was around.

“No, not yet, they’re watching the tv. But they might if they stop looking. Let’s go upstairs.”

I followed as he led the way to his room. Once there, he sat on the bed and removed his shoes and socks before laying down.

One big advantage, as I mentioned earlier, in having mental conversations was that they are instantaneous and therefore a lot quicker. It didn’t take me long to explain to Peter what exactly had happened to me, and some of the things I was able to do in my new insubstantial state. Peter, for his part, tried to explain about his religious belief in the spirit world. I listened, fascinated. It seemed that he could usually sense when spirits were around, but they only came through as a sort of grey nebulous mist. Having any sort of conversation with them was impossible – at best, he could only get a vague feeling of their emotional state. I was the first that he’d actually been able to talk to, and although it was one hell of a shock to begin with, I was quickly accepted.

All through our chat, I was acutely aware that beneath his thoughts was a constant undercurrent of sex. Nothing obvious, just a feeling I had. Once in a while I perceived an image of the episode in the toilet at school, closely followed by a feeling of warmth and happiness from him – and a desire for a repeat performance.

Tentatively I placed my hand in his groin and pressed gently. I was rewarded with a smile and a conscious relaxation on his part. “That’s better!” I felt him say, “That’s just what I wanted you to do.”

Giving him a picture of his naked body, he slid off the bed and got stripped. I looked at him, not believing what I saw. His body was just perfect, from the top of his black curly hair to the tip of his beautiful little feet! There wasn’t a mark on his olive-skinned body. His black eyes sparkled with anticipation and excitement, his cock already rigid with expectation.

One thing about mental telepathy I’d found out very quickly was that it is impossible to lie. I think that because emotions play such a large part in this sort of communication, any attempt to tell anything but the truth is doomed from the start. Peter must have sensed this as I gasped in awe when I started at him – he even had the grace to blush a little.

“Piss off!” he mouthed at me. There was also a more than a hint of sadness in his mind as he regretted not being able to see me.

“Wait a second,” I signalled, “Let me show you something.”

Asking him to lay back and close his eyes, I lay alongside him and began to run my hands over his delicious body. I heard as much as felt him moan with pleasure. Momentarily he opened his eyes, and I got a flash of disappointment from his when he realised that there was no one there – at least no one he could see.

“Keep them closed,” I suggested, “It’s better that way.”


Peter was very close to coming I sensed as he toyed with me. I’d forgotten just what it was like to have sex with anyone for the first few times. I remembered with pleasure the delight I’d felt when Andrew and I first started messing about – and the massive cums I’d achieved without even touching my cock – it was awesome!”

Encouraging him to relax and take his time, I turned him on his side to face me. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply.

“It’s almost as if you are really here if I keep my eyes closed,” he whispered, emotion making even his mental voice tremble.

Peter must be a remarkable boy, I thought, as once he lost himself in the emotional storm that was his mind, he forgot that I wasn’t actually present in body and reacted just as if I were. As he wriggled and writhed on his bed, I became more and more certain that this was his first experience of gay sex. Not only did he have to stuff the corner of the bed sheet in his mouth to keep the noise down, but his beautiful little prick was throbbing fit to burst and as hard as a nail. Removing the sheet for a moment so’s he could breathe, he gasped out, “Yes, no, yes, oh yes, no, no, Yesssssss!”

The last ‘yes’ culminated in a volley of cum that almost hit the ceiling and a smile that reached from ear to ear.

Knowing just how stressful and tiring a big cum can be, I draped a pair of undies over his wilting dick and left him in peace. (Or should that be pieces?)

Having quite a bit of time to kill (!) before I could go back to visit Andrew, I drifted around town, thoroughly enjoying my new-found ability to wander through walls and minds with equal ease. I remember reading somewhere that men think of sex at least once every five minutes – and I quickly learned that it is true, on average. Teenage boys have it on their minds almost constantly, older men less and less so until they get really old, like 40 or something, and hardly don’t think of it at all. At least until I plant a thought for them.

I had some great fun in the local cafe where we youngsters hung out in the evenings. The sexual tension in the atmosphere was almost palpable with boys leering over the girls for the most part, but in one or two cases boys were secretly perving over each other. It didn’t take me long to implant some mind-blowing mental images in the minds of the more attractive-looking boys, and within five minutes the three sit-down cubicles were fully occupied by three frantically wanking teenagers, with others queuing outside desperately waiting for their turn. Just out of interests sake, I also fed some ideas to a couple of girls and was delighted to find that the effect was just the same, and to give them credit, they found some very imaginative uses for toilet roll holders and lavatory brushes!

One place in which I’d always had a passing interest, but never had the courage to do anything about it, were the public toilets in the market square. The alternative use to which they were put was explicitly obvious from the graffiti-covered walls and doors, and the judiciously placed holes. I’d always been suspicious of the sort of people that met there for sex fun, labelling them all as sad, misguided and on the outer edges of pervdom. The pictures and stories scrawled had given me a few most satisfactory wanks in days gone by, especially before I met Andrew but I’d never had the guts to do any more than that.

Rather to my surprise, the people I saw skulking about in the gloom watching the entrance weren’t much different to anyone else. For the most part they were shy, reserved people who preferred the anonymity of the place, or were new to the scene and didn’t know where else to try. One such was young Michael, a fresh-faced 13-year old who’d only recently discovered the pleasures his body could give him and wanted to experiment. It wasn’t too hard to find a nervous 20-year old man who was also anxious to learn more, but was terrified of meeting the wrong person and getting beaten up for his pains. It was the work of moments to persuade them to enter the toilets at the same time and make them both get erections which were uneasily shared. Much to my delight, no further work on my part was needed as they tremulously entered a cubicle and locked the door behind them. I stayed just long enough to check that things were progressing satisfactorily and left them to their own devices. It was time to get back to Andrew.

Time means nothing to me of course and I was surprised to see Andrew was in bed and nearly asleep. Glancing at the clock, I was amazed to see it was not far off one o’clock in the morning – I must’ve had more fun that I thought I smiled to myself.

Slipping into Andrew’s body, he came fully awake instantly and I sensed his warmth and happiness as he welcomed me.

‘I’d almost given you up’ he flashed. ‘Where you been?’

United as closely as we were, our memories and thoughts could be shared intimately. I/we giggled at the recollection of the evenings events, Andrew getting as much vicarious pleasure from my encounter with Peter as I had – after all it was his memory just a much as mine now.

‘You OK with me sitting in your mind?” I queried.

‘Yeah,” he shot back, ‘Now I’m used to it. It’s like my brain is in two bits, I can be you or me: whichever I want.’

‘Same here. Great innit!’

It was well worth being dead for the feelings I was getting I decided, after all I now had the use of two minds and not just the one! Twice the pleasure and twice the excitement.

Naturally, there was only one thing to do next. ‘Let’s have a wank’ I/we thought.

Out of this world is the only way to describe the next five minutes. My mind vacillated between Andrew’s and my own with ever-increasing speed as we jerked off. One second I could feel my hand on Andrew’s dick, the next Andrew’s fist on mine. Talk about intense!

The orgasm, when it came was truly spectacular by any standards: our minds were jumping around so fast that we/I got the pleasure (and pain!) from two simultaneous spunkings – unbelievable!

‘Oh shit!’ we thought, collapsing back on the bed, totally fucked.

It must’ve been good because Andrew fell asleep almost instantly. Letting him get some rest, I decided to leave him for a while. Getting out of his body I found not quite as easy as I had before: it was as if there was something trying to stop me, but it was quickly overcome and I lay alongside him, just staring at his beautiful body.

I felt a bit jaded, mentally exhausted I suppose with the excitement of the past few minutes, but it didn’t last for long. One advantage of being dead is that you never seemed to get tired – not very anyway. Shifting from place to place I soon discovered took fractionally longer and my mind didn’t focus quite so easily, but it was OK.

For the rest of the night I flitted around the town, exploring a side of it which I’d never given any thought to before – I just assumed that people went to bed at night like I did and got up the following morning ready to face the day. Not so.

There were policemen in their cars, smoking or eating, watching cars pass by with idle interest. A few late-night revellers making their way home, tramps wandering aimlessly in back streets, cleaners and security guards going about their business, all-in-all a completely alien world to the one I was used to. And boring. It wasn’t any fun visiting the people I knew either as they were all asleep; the only thing I learned of interest was that more of the boys had cum-dampened groins than I would have thought. Once again, the statisticians were probably right: 90% of boys jacked off, and the 10% that say they didn’t ….. Oh, and I was only a little surprised to see that many of the brothers (and two sets of twins) I knew from school also shared their beds. Surprised and jealous – sex on tap!


As time went by, I spent more and more time sharing Andrew’s body – not only because I loved the feeling, but it relieved the boredom. It also advantaged Andrew in that we could share everything we knew between us – with the result that his school grades improved instantly, much to the amazement of all concerned. I found it was also possible to read the minds of the teachers when questions were being asked, and I/we could provide the right answer every time. This of course led to many pairs of raised eyebrows, and some very awkward questions directed at us, but nothing could ever be proved. Nevertheless, we soon learned to be careful.

The best bit was getting together with Peter. He was of course the only person who knew what was happening, and he thoroughly enjoyed the situation. At last he was getting the physical attention he craved. Andrew/me soon got our act together and met with Peter secretly whenever we could to exchange bodily fluids. Peter wasn’t anywhere nearly as adept as Andrew and I were at feeling each other’s minds, but he swears he can tell which of us is giving him a BJ or jerking him off – which delighted him immeasurably. In fact, he often wanted us to do him twice – once as ‘Andrew’ and once as ‘Simon’. Greedy bastard!

The most spectacular times came after we’d been messing about together for a good few weeks and Peter had decided he wanted to try ‘the ultimate’ . It took some planning as Peter’s family were a very close one and he was rarely left alone for any length of time. The golden opportunity came one day when Peter’s mother had (at my suggestion) decided to take his sister out for some urgent ‘girly shopping’ and his dad was at work. I don’t think either Andrew or Peter were impressed when I gave them lurid mental images of exactly what ‘girly shopping’ implied.

Peter had been prepared well in advance by the careful insertion of a finger or two up his fundamental orifice on a regular basis, and (he says) the judicious use of some smaller vegetables. Even before the sound of the front door closing had died away, Peter was lying on his bed, naked and expectant, grinning at Andrew/me.

‘What we gonna use for lubricant?’ we asked.

Peter reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a tall, square bottle.

“Extra Virgin Olive Oil!” he giggled. “Thought it appropriate, and I know it works!”

Andrew shook the half-empty bottle and looked at the rather embarrassed boy.

It took three or four attempts to get things just right, but when the flesh is willing …

The feeling Andrew/me had as we slipped inside the lad brought back instant memories of our first few times, memories which I transferred to Peter who giggled happily. So happy was he that his not-so-little dick fired out his cum after only half a dozen strokes, but it didn’t seem to slow him down any.

“Reach round and jack me at the same time,” he moaned as we re-started.

This was fantastic for all three of us. Splitting our minds again, Andrew screwed him for a few minutes and left me to do the jacking. Then we would swap over. Peter was on a different planet: each time we swapped places, he would moan loudly and simply asked for more. Not only that, but he knew who was doing what and when! I tried to read his mind a couple of times, but it was in just as much a mess as our was and I gave up.

In fact we never quite managed to achieve the ultimate in mind-reading each other, despite many, many attempts! Part of the problem was that we were enjoying ourselves so much that there was simply no room for any thoughts other than our own. You know the old adage about a man’s brain shifting to his dick … !


Andrew and I were living life to the full in every respect. Life at school was as near perfect as it could be once his grades had improved to the extent that he/I was considered one of the brightest stars in its firmament. So good in fact that university was a certainty – not bad considering our reputation of a few months (Christ! Nearly two years!) ago. Our sex life was no slouch either. When alone, we’d found various techniques to delight ourselves, including the use of various inanimate objects for purposes very different to those for which they’d been designed! Peter of course remained the focus of our attentions, and proved to be a more-than willing participant in our adventures, for adventures we had.

Slowly over time, I spent less and less time outside Andrew’s body, both of us having become accustomed to my presence and feeling somehow incomplete when we were apart. I didn’t tell Andrew, but I was also finding it harder and harder to slide in and out of him (and no, not in that way!). I think what’d happened was that we had become so attuned to each other that we were almost one person anyway and time spent apart was very distracting for us both.

All the time I was fixed in Andrew’s body, I couldn’t read or enter the minds of anyone else except Peter very easily. On the few occasions we separated, it was with good reason – and you can probably guess what they were!

Once in a while one or other of us (including Peter) would get the hots for a particular boy and would try to find a way to get inside his trousers. Sometimes it proved an impossible task – amazing how shy and uptight some boys are! Usually though, we succeeded and had some wonderful times together. The best times as far as we were concerned were when Peter and Andrew (as himself!) would manage to arrange a four-some. It was hilarious to see the reactions of our ‘partners’ when we swapped personalities mid-flow so to speak. Most boys accepted it as a sort of reaction to their excitement and enjoyed it. Others freaked out and more than one boy hastily pulled his pants up and beat a frantic retreat.

On the second anniversary of my ‘death’ (I still refuse to admit that I am actually deceased!) I made a decision. It came about when I realised with a bit of a shock that it had been nearly six months since I’d left Andrew’s body for any length of time. Apart from anything else, I was perfectly at home there (and why shouldn’t I be? It was half mine anyway!) and what’s more to the point was finding it harder and harder to slip in and out of him. What terrified me was than one day I wouldn’t be able to get back – and that would really be the death of me.

Andrew raised no objection of course, and so it was by mutual agreement and consent that I settled myself inside him once and for all – permanently. My mind-reading and suggestion implanting talents are nowhere near as good as they used to be, but I can still sense when someone is ‘interested’ in us and when motivated can usually create thoughts that move things along very satisfactorily. One thing I/we have picked up is that it is easier for me/us to communicate with the more intelligent people around us for some reason – perhaps because their minds are more open, I don’t really know. In any case, we are starting university in a couple of months and there will be ample opportunity to find out. What are we studying? Parapsychology of course.


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