Smirking, we snuck into her house, her parents watching TV. Smiling, putting fingers to our lips, we tiptoed to her room and silently shut the door. 

Pressing me against the wall, she unbuttoned my jeans. 

Skirt lifted, I thrust deep, filling her completely.

“Why can’t ghosts have babies?” She giggle-moaned. 

“Why?” I panted, raising the fucking tempo.

“Because they have Hallow Weenies.” 

Giggles became laughs.  “Shhhhh, bite me!” I offered my hand. 

Her orgasm building, her laughter turned to screams.

“They’re going to hear. You are so loud, bite me!”

One orgasm apiece, plus six stitches in hand for me.