The husband I loved from the bottom of my heart has died.
It was half a year ago.
I wet my pillow with tears and my underwear with my own fluids.
At first, I just cried endlessly thinking about my husband who died on the floor, but eventually, I began to miss his gentle caresses, and it became a routine for me to comfort myself.
"Ah, ah. Mm. Ah."
After lightly climaxing while playing with my clitoris, I looked at my slender fingers covered in my own fluids and realized once again that they were not my husband's, and I cried in emptiness.
Because there was a pleasure that could only be experienced with his rugged fingers.
Such nights became the norm.
One night.
I went to bed as usual, noticed the loneliness of sleeping alone as usual, and shed tears quietly.
My fingers naturally slipped into my underwear to comfort myself.
As I parted my pubic hair and pressed the pad of my finger against the small nub, it was already moist.
"Ah..."
The sound of bodily fluids bubbling began.
I opened the front of my pajamas and kneaded my breasts with my free hand.
I remembered his voice, body heat, the weight of his body pressing down, and the slightly tired body odor that couldn't be washed away even in the bath.
"Ah, ah."
My nipples, which had been thoroughly kneaded, played with, and sucked by him, became stiff and hard.
While stimulating them with my fingers, I quickened my caresses on my clitoris.
"Ah, ah. Ahhh!"
Just as I was about to reach my climax.
I was suddenly embraced from behind with a strong force.
"What?"
I was sure I had locked the house properly.
Since my husband passed away, I had become sensitive to security.
But.
Had someone sneaked into the house and hidden in the bed without my knowing?
"No!"
I tried to twist my body to escape, but the arms holding me were strong―――.
"Anna,"
The voice calling my name was my husband's.
"Eh,"
I tried to lift my body to look behind me.
"Don't look. Anna,"
The hand that was embracing me gently wrapped around my chest.
The nipples that had been caressed earlier were still half-hard, and the hand seemed to notice that immediately.
As it softly kneaded my chest, it pinched and twisted my nipples.
It was the touch of my husband's fingers.
"Ah. Ah. Is it really you?"
There was no answer, just fingers ravaging my chest.
Feeling a sweet tingling, tears welled up in the corners of my eyes.
"Ah, you. Ah."
Could such a thing be possible?
"Don't turn around,"
The presence behind me said, loosening the grip of the other arm that was restraining me.
"You,"
"Anna,"
The voice called my name in my husband's voice by my ear, kneading both my breasts, pinching my nipples, and with a shiver, I reached my climax.
"Mm, ah. Ahh."
My husband's fingers caressed my private parts.
Yes, it was unmistakably the touch of my husband's fingers.
My clitoris was subjected to persistent friction, and it was sticky with overflowing fluids.
"Ah, again, I'm going to come. Ahh."
Unable to hold back, my whole body convulsed.
How many times had I been made to climax with my clitoris?
The hand extending from behind me resumed its caresses on my clitoris right after I climaxed.
"Ah, no. No more. Just being touched. Ah!"
My clitoris had become so sensitive that even a breath of air felt like a piercing pleasure through my brain.
I closed my eyes tightly, gripped the sheets, and sobbed while gasping.
Following my husband's words not to look, I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to his familiar caresses.
Suddenly, the presence disappeared for a moment.
"You?"
I felt something wet pressed against my groin.
That sensation was a human tongue.
My husband had moved to my lower abdomen.
As he licked up the fluids with a slurping sound and sucked on my clitoris, a wave of pleasure surged through my head, and I let out a scream-like moan.
"Ah! Ah. No, there, with your tongue, like that, ah."
The lewd sounds of slurping and sucking echoed in the bedroom in time with my husband's mouth movements.
"Ah. I missed you. I missed you. It feels good. You. It feels good!"
While being overwhelmed by the thorough caresses, I called my husband's name and climaxed again.
As if to say it was a bonus, my husband made even louder sounds, sucking up my clitoris and lightly grazing it with his teeth.
"Ahh. Ahh. Ah. Ahh."
My husband's lips left my clitoris, and I felt a tickling sensation around the entrance of my vagina.
"Ah, there. Ah. Ah, I love it. Ah."
My husband carefully licked the wrinkled entrance skin.
In life, I had never experienced such a long oral session.
My husband's sex was on the plain side, and there were times when my smoldering body was left wanting.
But now, with the long caresses that seemed to go on forever, my body was overwhelmed, and I was exhausted.
Ah, but more. More.
My body craved my husband, craved pleasure.
Fingers parted my labia and pressed against the entrance of my vagina.
"Ah! Ah."
Fingers entered my vagina.
The long fingers quickly reached my weak spot and began to rub it.
"Ah! Ahh, there. There. It's hot. It's hot."
Overwhelmed by a burning sensation that seemed to ignite from my toes to the top of my head, I let out an unrestrained voice.
"Ah, ah. Ah. You. You!"
Unconsciously, my hips lifted, moving greedily to savor more of my husband's finger movements.
The finger movements quickened, and the wet sounds became more intense, making my body tremble violently.
For the first time in a long while, I climaxed inside with my husband's fingers, not my own.
"Anna, I love you,"
I immediately knew that the flesh pressed against my vaginal entrance was my husband's penis.
I spread my legs, entwined my fingers in the sheets, and waited for my husband's entry.
The overwhelming presence of my husband's penis as it pushed in.
My vagina, which hadn't experienced anything other than fingers since my husband died, had narrowed a bit, and it was being pushed open by him.
I let out a joyful scream at the slight pain and overwhelming pleasure.
"Ah, ahh! Ah. Come. Come more."
In response to my words, the thrusting became more intense.
With a slap-slap-slap, my husband's flesh collided with mine, and I gasped without restraint at the taste of my husband's penis after so long, crying out with the heat waves emanating from my womb.
"Ahh. Ah. Ahh. It feels good. It feels so good."
Crying and calling my husband's name, I climaxed over and over again.
In the moment I lost consciousness, I caught a glimpse of my husband's figure.
A dangling piece of flesh.
Half of his face was skeletal.
It was a terrifying sight, but.
It was still my husband.
More than fear, I found even that form endearing, and I whispered words of love as I passed out.
Perhaps seeing his form was a taboo I broke.
Since then, my husband hasn't appeared again.
But there was a change in my body.
My period stopped.
I was pregnant.
Even though I couldn't have a child with my husband while he was alive, no matter how much we loved each other.
As I stroked my belly, I felt completely fulfilled.
Only I know the truth.
I will likely be condemned as the worst widow who quickly connected with another man and had a child after my husband's death.
But I will give birth to this child, and I will love this child with all my heart.
The one thing I'm worried about is that I've never heard of a child with a ghost, and I wonder what form it will take when it's born.
I hope it takes a human form, as the appearance of my husband that night would not be accepted by society, and I wish for that.
Fin.
