Sam Lamour, Very Sexy Ghost

Marcus came awake with a jolt as Tiff parked the car rather abruptly just to see if he'd been sleeping. He smiled, rubbing his eye as he looked over at her. "Are we there already?"

"It was three and a half hours on the road," Tiff said. She climbed from her car with a groan and stretched grandly, rubbing her back.

"It felt like no time at all," Marcus said, springing out. "Once we got on the highway and you started that boring book on tape, I was out like a light."

"What? That book explained the whole backstory of this hotel, and the ghosts that haunt it!"

"Oh, yeah," Marcus said.

"Yeah!" Tiff said, shutting the car door. "We were supposed to be knowledgeable about them together, so there wouldn't have to be so much exposition."

"I remember," Marcus said, yawning. He took their suitcase from the trunk and turned to the neogothic building as the sun sank behind it. "Sorry, Babe, it was a long day. This place is obviously haunted anyway, I don't need to hear a whole book about it."

Tiff sighed, frowning at him. "It was a lot of complex, emotional stuff. Also, does that mean you didn't even hear my witty comments?"

Marcus frowned, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I feel better now that you didn't laugh."

Marcus pushed the trunk closed and joined her on the way up the stairs. "So what ghosts can we expect to see?"

"There are so many ghosts here," Tiff assured him, grabbing his arm. "This hotel opened in 1909, and less than a year later, a man named Sam Lamour was sleeping with a married woman in room 16, when her jealous husband comes in brandishing a pistol. He killed them both, then himself, pow, pow, bang!" she pointed the bang of her hand-gun at her own head and leaned on him more in death. She looked up grinning, "Apparently, there's a ghost that sits in the corner and watches people fuck!"

Marcus laughed. "Awesome."

"Well, except for the senseless, violent deaths."

"Tragic," Marcus agreed somberly.

"But they say that to this day, people can feel the sexy presence of Sam Lamour and his lover. Through the years, a bunch more horny ghosts started appearing as people have died here in mysteriously sexy circumstances."

"Uh oh. How dangerous is this?"

"It might get pretty scary, and it can't be scary without some danger, can it?" Tiff asked. "It's a haunted hotel, of course there's a chance of going insane and murdering each other."

"Hopefully we'll get the ghosts just out for a good time. And their idea of a good time won't be making us go insane and murder each other. Or elevators full of blood."

"I wouldn't have come here if this was one of those haunted hotels that has periods," Tiff assured him. She curtsied when he pulled the extravagantly carved wooden door open for her with a bow and entered the cool, dim lobby. Tiff gripped Marcus' arm as she looked around warily at their dark surroundings, sure something was going to grab her. She stumbled against a piece of furniture.

Marcus laughed. "Take your shades off, you goofball," he said.

"So much better," she admitted, pushing them up over her forehead. The room was still dim, but she could see the ottoman she had almost tripped on, the chair next to it, and the plastic skeleton in a leisure suit that lounged there. She shook her head. "No, I preferred it dark."

Marcus smirked. "You've got a bone to pick with this place already?"

"Fucking terrible," Tiff laughed, leading him toward the desk she could now see, and was glad the person behind the desk was oblivious. The young woman was twenty or so, with headphones on and watching something on the small screen, her feet were up still as they approached, she appeared not to notice anything until Tiff rang the bell.

She looked up and sighed, pulling the headphones off and tossing them to the desk. "Welcome to the Scarier Inn," she said. "Do you have a reservation?"

"We do," Marcus said, holding his phone up with a barcode, which she scanned. "How haunted is this place?"

"Oh, completely," she said, rolling her eyes. "Ghosts everywhere, do you want the tour?"

"No thanks," Tiff said. "I heard the book on the way in, and you've already shattered the illusion enough."

"You want me to be scarier?" the woman asked.

"That's not scary, that's attitude-y. Do it in a spooky voice."

"Tiff," Marcus said, shaking his head as he set a bracing hand on her shoulder. "Let's just save it for the room?" He looked at the clerk and mouthed the word 'sorry' as he took the room key. Tiff did not like the smile she gave him in reply. "Are there a lot of guests here?"

"It's mostly skiers this time of year, but none with how warm it's been." She leaned forward on the counter, checking him out. "I just threw old Bonesy out because of the spooky reservation."

"This place is going to make me actually go insane," Tiff said.

The clerk rolled her eyes, grabbing her headphones. "Room 16, the Lamour Suite."

Tiff clapped her hands as Marcus collected the keys and bounced up the stairs ahead of him to the second floor. She bounced down the hall to room sixteen, and bounced as he inserted the old-fashioned room key into an old-fashioned lock. The room, unlike the plastic bones and disinterested clerk in the lobby, had the perfect atmosphere for a haunted hotel. The elaborate neogothic moldings carried through from the door to the dresser to the four-poster bed, set in shades of red that stood out as the brightest color in the room. Tiff moved past it to the chair in the corner, upholstered in worn blue velvet, it didn't fit in with the rest of the décor.

"This is it," Tiff said. Her hand stopped a few inches shy of touching the fabric, her heart pounding.

"What is it?" Marcus asked. "It looks like an old chair."

"You should have listened to the book with me."

"Come on," he said, crouching next to her. "I just knew you'd love to explain it. Whose chair is this?"

Tiff glanced at him, frowning at him as though he was wrong, but they both knew he wasn't. "His name was Mortimer Brant, and he and his wife Gladys were staying here in 1979. Different room, though, I guess they put all the ghost stuff together in the off season. Or for a 'spooky reservation'."

"Forget about that, it just means we can have all the ghosts. So what happened to Mortimer and Gladys in 1979?"

"Gladys said that she was accosted by the spirit of Sam Lamour, and her husband just sat watching."

"What did Mortimer say?"

"Nothing. He died in this chair, with his dick in his hand and a smile on his face."

Marcus stood and stepped away from it. "What did he die of?"

"A stroke. Ha! But, yeah, his heart was beating so fast he blew a blood vessel somewhere in his brain. He was eighty-nine, hadn't been able to get it up in a decade according to Gladys. The spirit of Sam Lamour taking her was his final thrill, and he still sits here when guests are getting busy, hoping to get off one last time, forever."

"You want to get watched by a dirty old man?"

"Sure, a dead one. I can almost feel his ghostly eyes on me, wondering what I look like under these clothes, wondering when he's going to find out. Can you feel him?"

"Uh... I don't think so, no." Marcus turned from the chair to look at other objects in the room and stopped in front of the bathroom. "That's a really fucking creepy mirror."

Tiff stood next to him and grabbed his arm as she stared into their tarnished silver reflection. The faded colours made their image look old fashioned, almost sepia, and the frame was an intricately carved ivory thing designed to intimate a maw, with hundreds of pointed teeth around the tall oval. "Yup," Tiff agreed. "This was the mirror a brother and sister medium team created in back in 1951 to trap the spirit of Sam Lamour. They collected baby teeth from a church orphanage to represent innocence, but I mean... church orphanage. Those kids had already seen some shit."

"Probably, but let's stay on track. So these two mediums..."

"Right. These twin brother and sister mediums, Alexander and Ophelia Leminske wanted to lure his spirit out to trap him in the creepy mirror. They started twincesting it up, but before they knew it, they were swept up with the passion of Sam Lamour, unable to complete the ceremony because they just couldn't keep their hands off each other. Their souls somehow got trapped in the mirror instead, their bodies found in an extremely compromised position, and now they're just, you know, entwined forever within the silvered glass."

"That's... a really fucking creepy mirror. Are those really teeth?" Tiff tried to hold him back from approaching the thing, but he slipped from her grasp to look closer at it. She squealed when he lifted it from the hook to examine the back. He smiled as he looked up at her, and she scowled back, shaking her head warningly. He cleared his throat as he hung it back on the wall. "Yup, totally authentic. Super creepy, we look like old timey people."

Tiff huffed and moved to the window and the ivy pouring up from the trellis below. "In 2006, a college student named Jessica Medieros was staying in this room, and at eleven thirty she called her boyfriend sounding like a possessed porn-star. He drove four hours with her on the phone, trying to get her to calm down or at least wait until he got here, but she went and found a guy at the bar. She got him back here, still on the phone with her boyfriend, and started fucking him right as the boyfriend was pulling up. He was acting so crazy they kicked him out, and he climbed up the wall here. She wanted him to see, so she's getting pounded hard, right against the window, just smooshed right up against it and still yelling, harder, harder. The guy's outside the window watching, all he can hear is her screaming in pleasure, not the cracking glass. All three of them..." Tiff whistled downward in pitch, shaking her head as she looked at the ground below. "Three more horny ghosts claimed by room sixteen."

Marcus leaned to the window to look out. "All three of them died from a twelve foot drop onto some bushes?"

Tiff sighed sadly. "People were very fragile back in 2006. Be careful because the jealous ghost of the horny boyfriend reacts very badly to skepticism."

Marcus nodded. "Of course he does. I can almost hear him out there, moaning with the wind, 'show me your tiiiiiiittieeees.'"

Tiff snorted laughter, taking his hand to lead him back to the bed. "This is where Lamour and his lover were shot. They say just laying down on it will let his spirit fill you, and you'll get horny."

"I'm going to try it," Marcus said, tossing his bag on the floor next to it before hopping back to sprawl on the king size bed. He looked up at Tiff, a smile growing. "It's working."

"It is?"

"Oh for sure. Just laying here, looking at you, I am getting very horny."

"That's kind of normal, though. Are you above average horniness?"

"Absolutely. Sam Lamour and I are hoping that you'll join us down here."

Tiff leaned forward and crawled past his legs. She looked down on him, smiling back. "I think I feel it, too."

Marcus reached for her face, coaxing it down so their lips could meet. "It's definitely working," he said. He kissed her again, hand shifting around the back of her neck and into the top of her dress. He pulled it down off her shoulder. "I'm getting much hornier."

"So would you say that you've been possessed by the sexy spirit of Sam Lamour?"

"Uh... sure, I'll say that if you want."

"Marcus!"

Marcus shook his head, smiling a thin, sly smile that looked out of place on his blocky country-boy face. "Marcus? Not anymore, darling, you're speaking to Sam Lamour now."

"Oh, I am, huh? That's cool."

Marcus pulled her closer to kiss again and Tiff opened her lips to a brazen and most un-Marcus-like tongue invasion. He held her tight in her dense curls, pulling her head back to kiss her throat, lick it. He finished pulling her dress down and her heavy breasts hung before him within her lace bra. "Since you came into this room, I've wanted to ravage your perfect body."

Tiff smiled uncertainly at how well Marcus was acting, the cadence of speech he used different than his normal accent, his voice softened by a nasal quality. "Do you have eyes?" she asked.

"You're wondering how I see you without the physical capability to see?"

"Can you read my mind?!"

"I know the sort of person you are," Marcus said with a chuckle much higher than usual, almost a giggle. "Let's just get everything out of the way: My spirit is trapped in this room and exists all through it. I can sense other energy moving through, and extrapolate appearances from shapes, and I can gather it all together into a living being like your boyfriend here to take control."

Those were some really big words for Marcus, so Tiff let herself believe a little more. "So where is he? Is he okay?"

"He has full awareness and will get his body's control back. For now, he's offered it to me." His hand slipped from her shoulder to her breast, and took it in a tight grip that made her gasp. "Your breasts are perfect, Tiff, soft and firm at once, they fit these hands so perfectly." He reached into her bra to pull one out so he could bend to latch on with a firm suction, his tongue going around and around her hardening nipple. His other hand was at her waist, thumb hooked inside her hip and moving slightly if as though he could feel the heat growing there.

"Oh, Marcus..." Tiff moaned.

"Tsst, tsst, tsst," said Marcus, removing his hand. "My name is Sam, darling. Call me Sam."

"Okay, sorry. Sam."

"Yes, darling?"

"I forget now."

Marcus chuckled again, shaking his head as he took her breast, her nipple between her lips and suckling as he squeezed the full roundness of her tit. He finished taking her dress off and unclasping her bra so it could fall away. "You're so lovely, especially through these eyes," he said. "Like a work of art, it seems wrong to touch you, yet with the same reverence he feels..."

Tiff's heart was racing as her longtime boyfriend and only lover approached her breasts in a way altogether new, exploring them as though for the first time. "Sam Lamour was a breast man, I guess," she said, panting a little with growing arousal.

"Sam Lamour was into every facet of a woman's pleasure," Marcus assured her. "But these breasts are so perfect, they deserve adequate worship."

He pulled her breast into his mouth again, one hand on the other, and he also rubbed her hip with his thumb, his grip alternately gentle and firm, almost aggressive. "Your body yearns for me."

"Does it?" Tiff asked in surprise.

"I can feel it in your movements. I can hear it in your breath. I can see in your gaze how much you want me. Your body is getting hotter, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Tiff said. "The way you're looking at me, touching me..."

"It's different, isn't it," Marcus whispered, beckoning her to another kiss. He smiled as they parted. "It's different than with him, and that's exciting you even more."

Tiff's heart hammered even faster, her cheeks flushing as she realized how right he was. "Are you sure Marcus is okay with us using his body like this?"

"Tiff, you are so considerate, and Marcus loves that. He watches with lust equal almost to mine, and will experience all the sensations I do as we satisfy our desires."

"So this is pretty much a threesome," Tiff said.

Marcus kissed her again, growing still more amorous as he explored her body with his hands. "There are many more than that," Marcus said, his voice low in her ear. "Close your eyes, Tiff, and lay back."

Tiff let herself be guided back, and he leaned over her. He placed his hand gently to her face, and softly brushed his thumb over her eyelashes. She sighed as she closed them.

"You are so beautiful, Tiff," Marcus said, fingers tickling around her neck. "Mortimer is most impressed by your shapely body and... what's that, old man? You want me to stop flapping my jaw and get on with the action?" He kissed her again, and she couldn't help but picture the chiseled jaw of Sam Lamour working against hers, his dainty hands travelling over her bare breasts, sliding over her belly and into the top of her panties. Mortimer sat in the corner watching, admiring her curves.

"Mm, Marcus..." she moaned.

"Sam," Marcus said. "It's Sam Lamour who will make you come tonight." His bold fingers moved further, deeper, into the slimy wetness between her pussy lips. "Say my name, Tiff. Say who has his fingers inside you."

"Sam," she murmured, squirming as he rubbed her clit. "Sam Lamour has his fingers inside me."

"That's right." He spoke into her ear, then licked it, drawing the lobe between his lips and sucking it gently made a chill go up Tiff's back. She could feel warm moisture flooding her pussy around Marcus' fingers. "Do you like the way my fingers feel?"

"Yes, Sam," she said. He moved them deeper, pulling her leg up and outward as he got up over her. His fingers, damp with her musky juices, were at her lips and she accepted them into her mouth. She sucked them until they withdrew, and his mouth was back on hers.

"I cannot wait any longer, darling," Marcus said. "I want you so badly."

"Mm, Sam," Tiff reached for his belt. "You've got me so fucking wet, I want to feel your cock in my gushing pussy."

"My, women certainly have become vulgar in the last hundred years," Marcus said. "That's okay, Sam Lamour will love a filthy harlot just as well as a refined lady. In fact, maybe better. They do seem to appreciate it more."

"Stop talking and fuck me," Tiff said as she pulled his pants and boxers down, releasing his erect member. She reached for Marcus' cock, but he caught her hand. Her eyes were wide, her lips pouting as they met an uncommonly stern expression from Marcus.

"Close your eyes," Marcus said. She sighed as she did it. His fingers went into the hair around the back of her head, controlling her movements so he could kiss her lips, then her jaw and throat. "Tell me who has his hands on your naked body."

A very gentle, tickling caress moved over Tiff's right breast, and she gasped. Her eyes tried to open, but Marcus was already putting some cloth around her face, a dark-colored bandana. He tied it tight through the middle of her hair.

"No peeking, darling. Who is it?"

"S- Sam Lamour."

"That's right." He lifted her head again, and she could smell him a second before his exposed cock hit her lips. She opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out against the spongy tip and the bead of precum. Still gripping her hair, he guided her onto his manhood and gave her a moment to drool all over the tip of it before pushing her on deeper. "That's right Jerry, she sure can take a cock!" Marcus chuckled, "Jealous incorporeal bastard."

"Jerry?" Tiff asked, gasping and drooling down her chin. "Do you mean Gerald Dorsey? The man who shot you?"

"He hate-fucks Betty when I do this kind of thing," Marcus said in snobby disapproval of the cheated husband's motivations. He guided Tiff's mouth onto his dick again. "I hear you, Jerry. Of course I know you hate it when I call you that, why do you think I do it? Because you shot me, you idiot! Just shut up and see again how I was able to satisfy a woman where you could not."

Tiff took him deep, she had no choice, and he pumped into her throat a few times before withdrawing to let her breathe and gag once, slobbering down her chin. Marcus took her face, stroking her slimy cheek until she opened up and he pushed it in again. "Who's jamming his cock down your throat, Tiff?"

Tiff gasped as he pulled her back, panting in exhilaration at this rough treatment. "Sam- Sam Lamour."

"Yes," he agreed, and pushed her head forward again. She opened her mouth, stretching her tongue out to make more room for his throbbing dick. He loosened his hold a little as she reached for and cupped his scrotum, massaging beneath his large cock where she couldn't fit it down her throat.