Chapter 70 70: Moaning Myrtle [4]
Ethan dove through the air, dragging Myrtle's vibrating form back down toward the rows of stone sinks. The transition from the high rafters to the ground was a sudden, dizzying drop that left the ghost girl squealing in a mix of terror and arousal.
"Time for some ground-level education," Ethan grunted, slamming her down onto the edge of a sink. He flipped her over his knee, her ghostly ass hovering in the air.
SMACK.
He delivered a stinging, heavy-handed slap to her silver cheek. Because he was in astral form, his touch was pure heat. Instead of her translucent skin staying pearlescent, the spot where he hit her flared into a bright, comically glowing red.
"OW! That... that burns! It's hot!" Myrtle shrieked, her legs kicking in the air.
"That's called 'sensation,' Myrtle," Ethan laughed, his hand coming down again. SMACK. "Since you're a forever-teenager, I figured you needed a proper welcome to the adult world. It's not all moping and flooding toilets. Sometimes it's just getting your ass handed to you."
He kept a steady rhythm, spanking her until her entire spectral backside was a glowing, neon crimson. It was a ridiculous sight—a silver ghost with a bright red ass, wailing and wiggling as Ethan's amber energy left its mark on her.
"Stop! No, don't stop! My pussy is melting!" she wailed, her hands clutching the sink pipes for dear life.
"I'm just getting started," Ethan said. He reached into the empty air beside him, his glowing hand dipping into his dimensional storage. With a sharp tug, he pulled out the Elder Wand.
The legendary artifact hummed with a deep, resonant vibration the moment it touched the astral air. Ethan didn't use it for a spell; he used it for its raw power. He leaned down, his eyes dark with mischief, and pressed the knobby, ancient wood against her clitoris.
Myrtle let out a sound that wasn't even a moan—it was a high-frequency glitch. Her eyes rolled back behind her thick glasses, and her spectral pigtails stood straight up on end as the Wand's resonance vibrated through her entire ghostly nervous system.
"You like the 'Deathstick,' Myrtle?" Ethan teased, sliding the tip of the wand back and forth over her sensitive, wet lips. "The ultimate Hallow, used as a vibrator. Dumbledore would probably have a heart attack... again."
"I... I can feel the magic!" she sobbed, her hips bucking uncontrollably. "It's buzzing inside me! Oh, Merlin, Ethan, I'm going to pop!"
"Not yet." Ethan tossed the wand onto the sink and pulled her up by her hair, spinning her around.
He didn't give her a second to breathe—even though she technically didn't need to. He grabbed her by the throat, not to choke her, but to anchor her, and drove his thick, glowing astral dick into her mouth.
The "piston speed" was no joke. Being a spirit meant Ethan didn't have the physical limitations of friction. He slammed into her throat with a wet, rhythmic thwump-thwump-thwump, his astral cock disappearing to the hilt in her translucent gullet.
Myrtle's eyes bulged. She tried to moan, but all that came out were muffled, wet gags. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she struggled to keep up with the frantic pace. Her ghostly throat stretched and pulsed, glowing amber as his energy filled her. It was comically intense—the legendary Moaning Myrtle, gagging on the spiritual seed of a Master of the Mystic Arts like it was her last meal.
He pulled out with a loud, wet pop that echoed through the plumbing.
"You're a natural, Myrtle," Ethan panted, his amber form vibrating with heat. "But I think it's time we explore the back door. You've been dead fifty years; surely you're not using it for anything else."
"The... the back?" Myrtle squeaked, her silver flush returning in full force. "But... but that's where the poo—"
"You're a ghost, you don't even have poo!" Ethan laughed, flipping her over and shoving her face against the cracked mirror.
He didn't bother with a slow entrance. He guided his thick, glowing head to her tight, spectral anus and lunged.
Myrtle's shriek was so loud it actually made the copper pipes burst. A spray of ghostly, translucent water erupted from a nearby tap, soaking them both in spiritual mist. Ethan didn't stop. He pounded into her "back door" with a relentless, brutal rhythm.
"Oh... oh my... it's so... FULL!" Myrtle screamed, her face pressed against the mirror. She watched in horror and fascination as Ethan's glowing dick disappeared into her ass, the light shining through her translucent hips. "It's like I'm being filled with molten gold!"
Ethan reached around and grabbed her perky, teenage tits, squeezing them until she shrieked again. He was a machine, his hips slamming into her with enough force to make her spectral form flicker.
Thwack. Slap. Squelch.
He was having the time of his life. Since she was already dead, he didn't have to worry about breaking her. He treated her like a ragdoll, twisting her into impossible poses as they drifted between the sinks and the floor.
"Look at you," Ethan mocked, his voice echoing in her soul. "The ghost girl of Hogwarts, finally getting the anal training she missed out on in the 40s. Does it feel better than crying in a stall, you little slut?"
"YES!" Myrtle roared, her dignity completely shattered. "I'M A SLUT! FUCK MY DEAD ASS, ETHAN! FUCK IT UNTIL I DISAPPEAR!"
Ethan felt the massive, cosmic surge of his release reaching the breaking point. He pulled her hair one last time, pinning her against the central sink, and delivered ten final, ground-shaking thrusts that had Myrtle blurring in and out of existence.
"Here comes the paint job, Myrtle!" Ethan roared.
He pulled out at the last second, his astral form erupting in a blinding explosion of amber light. Instead of normal cum, a massive torrent of pure, concentrated spiritual energy shot out of him. It hit Myrtle's silver back, her ass, and her hair, coating her in a glowing, thick substance that stuck to her ghostly form like luminous paint.
Myrtle collapsed against the sink, her body vibrating, her face covered in glowing amber streaks. She looked like a Jackson Pollock painting made of starlight and sex.
"Oh... Merlin..." she whispered, her voice a tiny, exhausted rasp. She looked down at herself, at the "paint" covering her translucent skin. "I... I think I just saw the afterlife. Again."
Ethan stood over her, his astral form slowly cooling from white-hot to a steady amber. He looked down at his physical body, still lying erect on the floor, then back at the messy, glowing ghost in front of him.
"Consider it a parting gift, Myrtle," Ethan grinned, wiping a bit of spectral "paint" off her glasses. "I told you I'd make you live up to your name."
Myrtle just groaned, a long, satisfied sound that echoed through the pipes. For the first time in fifty years, she didn't sound sad at all.
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