Ghost Humpin'

So. This is my first article in about a year. The reason for my delay? Well, I was busy getting a Ph.D. And that’s the last I’m going to say about it. I wanted to do something real special for this article, since you’ve all been so patient with me. So no article about my first love, cryptozoology, and no article about alien abductions, which make up the bread and butter or, if we’re being honest, the pizza crust and lard, of this site. This article is going to be about…
…wait, let me back up. Despite our previous president’s best efforts to drive the American economy into the ground, I’ve managed to find myself gainful employment in the state of Michigan. Compared to the life of a graduate student, I’ve received a modest raise, propelling me all the way into the upper lower class. Combined with the fact that I now live in the boonies, and not one of nation’s most expensive cities, I can now afford certain luxuries I couldn’t in Philadelphia. Cable, for instance. My first night here, I pop open a gallon of beer, I throw my feet up, and turn on the television. I flip, of course, to the History Channel, because I want to watch something about Hitler. Or, if not Hitler, Goebbels. Maybe Goering. But what do I see? Some shit about ghosts. I flip from channel to channel, recalling the days of my youth when I was raised by a 32” Panasonic, but all I see is ghosts! Ghosts this, ghosts that! Paul Kimball, I hope you’re happy. You’ve taken the Hitler off of my television and didn’t even have the decency to replace him with… well, I guess Ghost Hitler is the only thing I’d approve of.

So I decided to write an article about ghosts. Now, I could watch that ghost hunting show that has a commercial on every five minutes, and look at their scientific techniques, and see what the deal is. But I’m not going to lie. As much as I want to understand why they think ghosts would show up in IR or emit EM or whatever, I don’t want to see that guy with the goatee jump around like he’s constantly getting goosed. That’s just not how I spend my free time.
Searching the internet for ‘Ghost’ combined with how I do choose to spend my free time seemed like a good idea. Unfortunately ‘ghost, brewing moonshine’ did not return any results. ‘Ghost, deviant sex,’ however, did. That’s right: space monsters from beyond the moon aren’t the only ones that want to do things to your butt. And it’s a topic so rich with unintended comedy, such a wide buffet of human frailty, so thick with words I don’t recognize that it practically begs for an article. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of ghost sex before.

I’m going to start with the same caveat that I mention when talking about the insane sexual acts that occur during alien abductions. There are a lot of things that are funny about sex, but absolutely nothing is funny about sexual crime. Reading these accounts of being sexually assaulted by ghosts, I can’t tell if the people are crazy, or if there was an actual assault, and their mind is trying to cover up for deep psychological reasons. It’s not unheard of for the psyche to throw up some elaborate defenses when confronted with trauma, so if someone claims to have been assaulted by a ghost or a space alien or what have you, we should try and help them through it and to figure out what really happened.

That serious note aside, I feel rather a bit less sensitive to people who report being able to have consensual sex, and even relationships, with ghosts.
Not entirely to my surprise, ghosts and space aliens have a lot in common in the bedroom. Space aliens are constantly coming up with the most inefficient, kinkiest ways possible to get at our batter. And ghosts are down with some freaky business. The sort of thing you’d have to pay a hooker overtime for.
The first site I visited was run by an older man, and he detailed all of the places that a ghost would put its unearthly wang. And he didn’t miss a single one. The armpit, behind the knee, you name it. Originally I thought this would be a fun story to research, but it gets nastier from there. Some hypothesize that people who are sexual deviants are more likely to come back as ghosts, and that’s why such weird fetishes are constantly popping up in ghost sex stories. Bloodplay, smothering, bondage, beating the soles of the feet, tickling… it’s like someone took a list of bittorrent files and added ‘ghost’ to the beginning of each one.

As with alien encounters, what passes for ghost sex is a pretty subjective term. It’s not hard to find report after report of people dreaming of having sex with beautiful people, and then becoming suddenly worried that these dreams are, in fact, ghostly visitations. Far be it from me to suggest that if it happens in a dream, the incident says more about the dreamer than anything else. Sleep paralysis seems to get its share of time in the spotlight: The old night hag routine (“Some invisible force is keeping me from moving while I’m asleep!”) is bandied about a lot.

They’re down with some more immature deviant acts, too. Apparently, when a stalker dies, he will continue sending obscene text messages to the target of his affections. ‘Ghosts’ ‘summoned’ by ‘necromancers’ are apparently rather skilled at dirty talk.

It’s hard to draw any sort of a conclusion from these stories. The bulk of the ghost sex stories I’ve come across, and let’s face it, I didn’t really do a huge amount of digging, are like letters to Penthouse: they might be real, but you’re never going to track down the author. But even my cursory glance has made it clear that ghosts, like aliens, are down with some freaky, kinky stuff. As always, I ask you which is more likely: that the souls of the departed have returned to us from across the great chasm between life and death just so they can stick their dick in your armpit, or that there are some people out there with some seriously repressed ideas of what is and is not hot? Ugh, I don’t care what the answer is. I’m going back to abduction stories.

Be seeing you.