Hitchhiker

Hitchhiker

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Copyright Oggbashan October 2008
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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Late in the evening of Halloween I was leaving Dover, driving up Whitfield Hill towards the roundabout with the A2. It was raining hard. I was annoyed that the meeting had gone on so long and my stomach was complaining.

As I turned on to the A2 I noticed a woman standing beneath the Ramada Hotel sign with her thumb extended. I pulled off the carriageway, stopped and opened the passenger door. As she came towards me I noticed that she was very pale and her hooded trench-coat was soaked through and clinging to her. She put her head in the car.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“At least to the start of the M2,” I replied. I didn’t want to say more in case she turned out to be an irritating companion. I could stand anything for half an hour. More? That depended on what she was like.

“OK. Thanks.” she said as she got in.

“Want to shed that coat? It looks very wet.”

“No. I’ll be OK. It should dry out.”

She pushed her hood back revealing brunette hair flattened by the hood. She fastened the seat belt. She settled her small handbag on her lap. I joined the carriageway easily because there was no traffic at all.

“Where are you heading for?” I asked as I turned the heater to a higher setting.

“London, I suppose. That’s where I was going when…”

She stopped, reached into her handbag, removed a tissue and started to dry the raindrops from her face. I glanced at her hands. Even under the street lights the skin looked blue with prominent veins. I thought that was odd because she was heavily built with slightly podgy hands indicating that she was slightly overweight.

“I’m cold,” she said.

I turned the heater up to maximum.

“Undo your coat. The heat will get through sooner.”

She unbuckled the belt and pulled the coat open. I glanced towards her. She was wearing a dark blue jersey dress, also soaked. Her breasts strained the material with a prominent bra outline.

“I think I’ve got a towel in the boot…”

“No. It’s not worth stopping for that.”

“OK.”

I drove for another ten minutes, accelerating once we had reached the dual carriageway beyond the Lydden crossroads.

“I’m John,” I said. “You are?”

“I think I’m Mary, actually Maria, but I’m so cold I don’t know who I am.” Her voice was vague as if she was struggling to think straight.

“Maria, you really need to dry out. You are saturated and if you’re not careful you’ll get hypothermia if you haven’t got it already.”

“I know I’m very cold.”

I took a deep breath.

“Maria, I don’t want to upset you but you do need a change of clothing before you continue your journey. I’ve got some clothes, probably in your size…”

“You wife’s?”

“I’m not married. They were my girlfriend’s until she went travelling. She used to live with me but got the urge to see the world. She’s settled in Australia and is engaged to someone else. I’m not trying to seduce you but we could go to my house, get you dry and changed, and then I could take you to the start of the M2.”

“I suppose so.” Maria sounded as if she didn’t care.

My stomach rumbled.

“When did you last eat anything?” I asked.

“I don’t know. A long time ago.”

“OK. I need to eat too. I’ll put something in the microwave while I find the clothes. You can dry yourself, change, eat something and then you’ll be ready to move on. OK?”

I didn’t know why I was offering this to a stranger. I suppose I felt that if Hester, my former girlfriend, had been in a similar situation, I hoped that someone would help her. Maria certainly needed help. She was so wet and cold that she was barely functioning.

When I reached the Brenley Corner roundabout I turned on to the A299. About ten minutes later we pulled onto the drive of my small detached bungalow that had been my grandmother’s. I had to help Maria out of the car and support her, almost carry her, to the front door. When I saw her by the house lights I became even more worried about her. Her face was almost completely white. Her lips were blue. I eased the sopping wet coat off her shoulders. Her dress was nearly as wet as the coat.

I put her on the settee in the living room and turned the gas fire on. The central heating would warm the house eventually but Maria needed heat now. I filled the kettle, switched it on and went to the spare bedroom to rummage through Hester’s abandoned clothing. I collected several warm towels from the airing cupboard.

Maria was leaning back against the settee with her eyes closed. Her handbag was beside her.

“Maria! Can you dry yourself?”

Her eyes slowly opened. Her head shook.

“Then I will.”

I hoped she wouldn’t object but she had to get out of those wet clothes. I took her shoes off. They were sodden and had marked her tights. I leant Maria’s body against my shoulder while I peeled the dress over her head. It clung clammily to her. Underneath she had a white bra and cotton panties. I unclipped the bra. Her large breasts slumped against my chest leaving damp patches. I dried her torso and arms rubbing briskly with a warm towel. Her skin still felt cold and looked white as I fitted one of Hester’s bras. Hester’s bra was a better fit than the one I had removed. I added a thermal vest and a T-shirt before lowering Maria to lie on the settee. She stirred slightly as I removed her thin tights.

I dried Maria’s legs. I had to dry them again because her panties were wringing wet as I slid them down and off, showing a brunette bush. I had to pull and push Maria around to get her into Hester’s maxi panties. I added thermal directoire panties and footless tights. I had intended to put a pair of jeans on top but I was panting after the effort of heaving Maria’s dead-weight around. I covered her with a couple of warm towels while I went back to search for something easier to put on her.

I found a button-through denim dress. I rolled Maria to one side and then the other before bringing the front of the dress together and buttoning it from neck to hem. Finally I added a pair of my own walking socks to Maria’s feet before recovering her with the towels. I took her sodden clothes to the kitchen, checked the labels and put them in the washing machine for a slow spin to remove the water.

I was really worried. Unless Maria became more lucid soon I would have to seek professional help. Would I need to call an ambulance or take her to the nearest Accident and Emergency Hospital? Perhaps a warm drink might help?

I made coffee. I put the mugs down on the low side table and propped Maria into a sitting position. Her handbag wasn’t there anymore. Had she moved it?

I felt odd looking at another woman in Hester’s dress. I still regretted losing Hester. Maria obviously wasn’t Hester. She has wavy brunette compared to Hester’s mouse dyed-blond straight hair. Her figure is similar being fairly heavy-set, well developed and slightly plump. Her podgy hands seemed out of place. I reached for one of her hands and held it. It was still icy cold. I gently massaged it between my hands, trying to get some response.

Eventually Maria’s eyes opened but she wasn’t really focusing on anything. I had to hold the coffee mug while she drank. Slowly she seemed to become more aware of herself and her surroundings. Two mugs later she was almost coherent. I suggested that she might like something to eat. She agreed to instant pasta bolognaise.

She slumped back against the settee as I went to use the microwave. As the meal was cooking I checked the washing machine. It had stopped spinning so I opened the door. Maria’s clothes weren’t inside. Had I moved them to the tumble drier without remembering that I had? The tumble drier was cold and empty. I looked around the kitchen. The damp patch where the clothes had rested on the floor as I loaded them into the machine was still there, but her clothes were not.

The microwave pinged. I put my portion into the microwave and took the pasta to Maria. I still wondering what had happened to her clothes. I must have put them somewhere.

At first I had to help Maria to eat. She gradually began to feed herself in small mouthfuls. Her face started to gain some colour. I went back to the kitchen to get my pasta and then sat beside her. I had finished before she had but at least she had eaten it all.

“I’m tired…” Maria said.

“Do you want to stay the night?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Did I have any of Hester’s sleepwear? I thought I might have but it had been such an effort undressing and then dressing Maria that I felt reluctant to strip her again. It wouldn’t do her any harm to sleep in what she was wearing.

I helped Maria to her feet and steered her towards the spare bedroom. It has a double bed for when my parents visit. It can be separated into two singles for visiting friends if that’s what they want. I pulled back the duvet with one hand before sitting Maria on the edge of the bed. I put an arm around her shoulders to lower her head to the pillow before swinging her legs up. She reached out to grab my arm as I stood up.

“Don’t leave me,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m cold. I need a cuddle.”

Maria was certainly cold. There didn’t seem to be any hint of a sexual need in her request. Even if there was, the clothes I’d dressed her in would be an obstacle.

“OK,” I replied. “I’ll turn the lights out first then I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” Maria’s voice was still faint.

I looked around the kitchen again before turning the light out. Maria’s clothes weren’t in sight. I looked around the living room. Her clothes weren’t there, neither was her small handbag she had been clutching earlier. What was going on? Perhaps everything would be explained in the morning.

I returned to the spare bedroom, shed my shoes but kept my clothes on as I climbed into bed with Maria. She snuggled into my arms. Even through the clothes we were both wearing I felt the coldness of her body. I wrapped myself around her and tried to warm her. I admit it. I enjoyed hugging Maria. If only we could begin a relationship…

Slowly Maria’s body began to warm in my arms but I was getting colder as if I was cuddling a block of ice. The colder I got, the weaker I felt.

When Maria started to strip me of my clothes I was unable to make more than a token objection. As I became colder and weaker she was stronger. Once I was naked she shed her clothes as well and pulled me on top of her. Her cool hand gently massaged me to an erection that she fed into herself. That erection faded as it entered her cold pussy.

Maria’s hand massaged me insistently until I was hard enough to penetrate her. I started to thrust but the effort was beyond my ability to maintain. I wanted to fuck her but I didn’t have the strength. Maria bucked underneath me until I came into her body. I sagged against her, totally spent.

She lay there for about a quarter of an hour with her vaginal muscles rhythmically contracting around my useless prick. Once it had some signs of returning hardness she wriggled out from under my dead weight before rolling me on to my back.

“John? These clothes were Hester’s?”

It was a question. My only reply was a weak nod.

“You loved Hester? You miss her?”

I nodded again.

“Then pretend that I am Hester. This will help…”

Maria spread Hester’s panties across my nose and mouth before tying them there with the tights. She pushed the skirt of Hester’s denim dress over my torso and head, holding it in place with her hands either side of my head. I was breathing the reminders of Hester’s perfume. Despite myself my erection returned. Hester had never been so direct about our love-making. Sometimes I had wished that she could have been.

Maria impaled herself on my taut erection. She seemed to have ample energy now as her hips banged hard against mine while her hands pressed Hester’s skirt tighter and tighter around my head.

I felt as if I was losing myself inside Hester, completely controlled and dominated by her. All thought of Maria should have gone. It hadn’t. Hester became Maria again. Maria thrust herself again and again on to the hardest erection I had achieved in months. Maria’s lovemaking was far more satisfactory than anything I had experienced with Hester. When I ejaculated into Maria it was the last effort I could make. Almost immediately afterwards I was asleep or u*********s.

Through a haze I was eventually aware that my face was in the open air and that Maria was knotting pantyhose across my chest. It was an extreme effort to wriggle sufficiently to find out what Maria was doing. She had tied my legs together in several places and my arms were tied by my sides of my body at the wrists and elbows. Maria’s body weight was holding me down as she straddled my chest.

“I’ve nearly done, John.”

“Why, Maria, why?” I whispered.

“I’ll tell you in a minute or two.”

Maria climbed off me. If I had any strength I might have tried to roll. As it was I was too weak to do more than confirm that she had tied me very effectively. Hester had been collecting her older pantyhose to stuff some cushions. Maria had found them and used them as bonds on me.

Maria sat down on the bed beside me. She was now wearing another of Hester’s dresses. She looked much more attractive than she had when I had dressed her. Her hand stroked my head as she spoke.

“Tonight is Halloween. You really shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers after dark on Halloween. They might not be what they seem. I’m not.”

Maria’s hand dropped to my mouth to stop my response.

“I’m a ghost. I can only be seen after dark on Halloween but I’m there at that road junction every night. You were the first person to offer me a lift. Thank you for that. It gives me a chance to stop being a ghost and move on. I died at that junction and I want revenge.”

While her hand on my mouth stopped me speaking she relaxed its grip and her other hand began to stroke my hair.

“About ten years ago my boyfriend persuaded me to go for a day trip to France. We were to go for a meal in Calais and shopping in Cite Europe. I didn’t know that he had anything else in mind.

We parked the car in a back street in Calais. Darren seemed to want to park in that particular street even though it was about five hundred metres from the restaurant. The meal was great but very long-winded. It was three or more hours before we got back to the car. When we did, it had a slightly different smell. I couldn’t place it. It just seemed odd.

We went to Cite Europe but it was obvious that Darren wasn’t interested in shopping. We bought some cases of beer and some wine but I had no time to look at the shops I would have been interested in. Darren wanted to get back to the port and catch the next ferry.

We did. On the crossing Darren wasn’t his usual self. He seemed preoccupied and very off-hand with me, as if I had done something to upset him. I couldn’t think what.

We landed at Dover and drove through the nothing-to-declare channel. We went up Jubilee Way to the A2 and started towards the Whitfield Roundabout.

Suddenly a police car appeared behind us with siren and blue lights. Another one raced alongside us. It was obvious they wanted us to pull over. Darren didn’t. He put his foot down and tried to run from them. I screamed at him to stop. He just said ‘Shut-up, bitch!’ in a quiet voice as he urged the car to go faster. He had never called me a bitch before. I started to cry.

At the Whitfield roundabout he was going too fast. He squeezed past a couple of cars but hit the inside of a heavy goods vehicle just by where you picked me up. The car rebounded off and rolled, crushing the side door next to me and pushing the bodywork back against my legs. I was trapped. The car continued to roll and finished back on its wheels with the front down the embankment.

My head was forced back against the headrest by the windscreen that had collapsed against me. My legs and feet were trapped. My arms and torso were held by the airbag that for some reason didn’t deflate. I was looking up at the car’s headlining. There was white smoke in the air inside the car.

I thought that the white smoke was from the airbag until powder started pouring from the headlining over my immobile face. The powder was suffocating me. There were kilos of it.

It was uncut cocaine. I drowned in cocaine that Darren was importing. He had abandoned the car and me as soon as he could get his door open. It didn’t do him any good. The police caught him within five minutes but because they were chasing him no one tried to rescue me. I could have survived with such a little action – a hand over my face to keep the powder from flooding my nose and mouth. The police couldn’t provide that hand because they were trying to capture Darren. Darren cared more about his own liberty than my life.

He went to jail. Now he is out and I want repayment for my life. You have given me a chance to get that repayment.”

Maria stopped talking.

“How?” I managed to ask past her loosely gripping hand.

Maria’s hand clamped back on my mouth.

“Shh!” She hissed in my ear.

“You’ve given me warmth and strength. To the extent that I’ve taken it from you, you are that much weaker. I probably didn’t need to tie you up like this but I want you here when I return. I hope I can give everything back to you because you have been kind to me. If I’m successful, I will repay you. If I’m not, you’ll get your strength back in a few hours and can probably free yourself.

Now I’m going to find Darren. I know exactly where he is. I’m going to borrow your car and drive to his flat. I’ll get in because I still have his keys in my handbag…”

I shook my head. Maria lifted her hand.

“It’s vanished. So have your clothes.”

“It hasn’t. You can’t see it. I can. Anything I have that isn’t touching me becomes invisible to live people. I’m a ghost. My clothes and handbag are still here. Thanks for drying the clothes. I’ll put them on when I go out.

I’m going to frighten Darren with a little help from my ghostly friends. I wish I could kill him. I can’t. Some of my friends could but I don’t want to go that far. He has been punished for d**g-dealing but not for letting me die, nor for making me an innocent accomplice. At least he admitted in court that I knew nothing about the cocaine or the smuggling. If he hadn’t perhaps I might let my friends kill him.

Now I’m going to leave you. While I’m gone, think about Hester. This might help.”

Maria stuffed a pair of Hester’s skimpier panties in my mouth. She pulled a bra cup over my face. Hester’s breasts, and Maria’s, are so large that a bra cup completely covers my face. She tied it in place with more pantyhose before pulling a stocking down over my head. I could breathe but only through Hester’s bra and pantyhose.

I heard Maria leave. I lay on the bed. Despite breathing Hester’s perfume I felt desire for Maria. I wanted to repeat our coupling with me as a more active partner. In a short time I was asleep.


I woke up as Maria eased the stocking off my head and removed Hester’s bra. I spat the sodden panties out.

“We’ve done it.”

Maria was really pleased with herself. She had an almost normal skin colour with none of the washed out look that had been there when she had taken my warmth and strength.

“What did you do to him?”

“Everything.”

Maria struggled to release my from the pantyhose bonds. She used her teeth on one tie.

“Darren has found another woman even more trusting than I was. He treats her like dirt. She even has to call him ‘Master’ and serve him meals dressed in a skimpy apron and nothing else. But not any more.

She was asleep when we arrived. I won’t say much about the others except that we are all female ghosts. One of us made sure that she stayed asleep but Darren was wide awake.

He could see me but not the others. They held him before stripping him naked. He would have screamed except for his girl-friend’s smelly socks rammed into his mouth and kept there with the duct tape he uses on her. We held him face-down on the bed with his butt in the air. I slowly and carefully anointed his arse-hole with extra-virgin olive oil before the strongest of us butt-****d him with an ice-cold dildo. That was also his girl-friend’s property. We had dunked it in cold water and left it in his freezer for a quarter of an hour while I told him that I had come for revenge.

He won’t have any lasting damage but he won’t sit down easily for a week. I think he suffered more from fright than from what we actually did to him physically. Apart from the dildo we made him worship all our pussies with his tongue and plead with the ‘mistresses’ to let him do some more. An invisible ghostly hand was squeezing his tool tightly so he couldn’t cum. A pair of invisible legs scissored his head whenever he was reluctant.

His girlfriend has a whole wardrobe of fetish gear to amuse him. We made him wear it all, outfit by outfit, and parade in front of me. I think I liked it best when he was a pony-girl gagged with a padded bit, wearing a saddle and a tail plugged into his sore arse-hole. He had to plead to be allowed to swish his tail.

The best part was working on his sub-conscious. One of us was a hypnotist in life. She planted several triggers in his mind. All of them will make him submissive to his girlfriend’s slightest wish. We suggested to her u*********s that she would like to see him wearing her fetish costumes and bondage. All she has to say is "Would you?” and he will have to obey her even if it is really humiliating. We left a few suggested scenarios in her mind. She can reject them if she wants to. We have nothing against her but she is now in control of Darren whether he wants it or not.

While the others held him down I mounted him and drained him of far more energy than I borrowed from you. He was a limp heap as we dressed him in his favourite costume – her as a French maid. We added a few refinements. His high heels were strapped together. His garters were sewn together so he couldn’t move his legs apart. His frilly panties were sewn to his dress so he can’t take them off. His elbow length gloves were crossed behind his back and tied with his apron strings.

She had two lacy head-dresses. We put a blond wig on his head and fixed it there with superglue with one head-dress on top. We left her smelly socks in his mouth and the duct tape but disguised it with the other head-dress as a gag.

Finally we handcuffed his bound hands to the foot of her bed. I left a note for her, telling her where we had put the keys and suggesting that she might like to get him to promise to treat her better before she frees him. He has to. The triggers planted in him mean he can’t refuse her request no matter how unreasonable it is.

Now I’m free. I’ve exorcised my anger against Darren. He’ll suffer for a while until his girlfriend tires of him or he accepts her domination totally. I have no unfinished business here – except you. I need to repay you, then I can go.”

“Must you?” I croaked.

“What do you mean, John?”

“Can’t you stay for a while? With me?”

Maria kissed my lips.

“I thought you wanted Hester.”

“So did I. Breathing Hester’s perfume while you were gone I began to accept that she had gone too and will never come back but you? There are things about you that I want to experience again if that’s possible.”

“Wait until I’ve given you your strength back. I’ve taken so much from Darren that I have enough for both of us.”

Maria’s mouth closed over mine. We kissed with open mouths. Her body pressed against mine. With each second of kissing I could feel strength returning as if I was slowly lowering myself into a warm and sensuous bath.

She pulled away and rested her head on my shoulder. My arm slid around her.

“You want me, John?”

“Yes, Maria?”

“Even though I’m a ghost?”

“Whatever you are.”

“We’ll see how it works.”

Maria stood up, moved to the foot of the bed and gradually undressed herself in a graceful strip tease. She jumped on the bed beside me, pulled me on top of her and eased herself into position with her pussy brushing against my erection. This time I had all the energy I needed. I drove myself deep into Maria’s warm passionate and welcoming body. I kept going for far longer than I had ever managed with Hester. If my pace began to slow Maria’s pussy contracted around me, seeming to give me encouragement. She erupted underneath me into her own climax followed by more and more as if I was the most effective lover she had ever had yet my erection stayed until she softly sighed “now”.

Afterwards she snuggled against me until we went to sleep. I had a slight worry that she wouldn’t be there when I woke.

She was. She still is.

No one else can see Maria. How long I have her I don’t know. All I do know is that every night we make love as if we have all the time in the world and the next morning I wake for more lovemaking yet I don’t show any signs of the effort such strenuous activity ought to show. Maybe I’m dreaming Maria. Maybe making love to a ghost is good for you.

I know it’s good for me. Sometimes, very rarely, I wonder how Darren is holding up in his submissive purgatory.

Maria seems to have forgotten about Darren. I should too.

I’m happy with the ghost I’ve got.