The Ghost of Paris Chapter 12: Afternoon At the Park & Epilogue: The Pink-Haired Girl - Sex Stories

The Ghost of Paris Chapter 12: Afternoon At the Park & Epilogue: The Pink-Haired Girl

The Devil's Pact, The Ghost of Paris by mypenname3000 edited by Master Ken Copyright 2014 Chapter Twelve: Afternoon At the Park Notes: Credit goes to PeacelovingXXX for the story behind this chapter. Saturday, September 28th, 2013 – Paris, Texas It was a warm, late September day as I strolled down the street towards Daniel Boone Park. A perfect, high-seventies day, with a gentle breeze keeping you cool. The girls were out in skimpy shorts and light tops, and my pecker was at full mast. A couple rollerbladed by; the woman had a long, dark ponytail and shorts so tight she may as well have been naked. I wanted to grab her, take her behind some bushes, and just have my way with the sweet, young thing, but she passed me in a blur before I could react. The cement was rough on my feet, but nearly a month of walking around naked had toughened my soles. The sun was warm but, thanks to my Pact, I didn't need to worry about sunburns while I was invisible. Hell, I didn't need to worry about any form of exposure. I could run naked through a blizzard, and so long as I was invisible it'd be just a pleasant stroll. Well, it'd probably be windy as all fuck, but I wouldn't freeze to death. Daniel Boone Park was a flat expanse of grass dotted with bushes, and tall oak trees, their broad limbs providing plenty of shade. A small, man-made lake dominated the center and a few people fished it. Several paths circled the park, filled with joggers, walkers, bicyclists, and skaters. Others sat at ...

... picnic tables or on blankets on the ground, and more than a few girls were out in their bikinis sunbathing. There were two bathrooms that anchored either end of the park. I surveyed the scene, a lion seeking out which gazelle on the Serengeti, or whatever the fuck those plains in Africa were called, was vulnerable. And there were a lot of mighty fine looking gazelles! Tall, petite, big tits and small. Some had great asses, others had legs that any coonhound would love to hump. Bronze, pale, or ebony skinned—they all made my pecker want to howl. I spotted a familiar face. Ruth Annabeth Ahlers. The second girl I had fucked after becoming the Ghost. I had fucked her on her porch, and made the sweet, young thing show her treats off to a couple of boys. They had plastered her lovelies all across the internet. She sat on a bench, leaning back, wearing a tartan skirt, this time pink-and-black and far shorter, and a tight, pink halter top. She had a large smile and her brown doe-eyes twinkled with mischief. A pair of boys were watching her, and she toyed with her black hair in a long, plaited braid. She spread her legs. The boys all nudged each other, laughing and staring at her. I moved, waiting to get a look at her panties. I loved looking up a girl's skirt, and seeing what intimate surprises they might be wearing. Whether plain, old, boring, white panties or exciting thongs or sensuous French cuts or lacy or any of the hundreds of styles. Ruth had a surprise for me; her juicy cooch was ...