Twelve-year-old Troy Pollard found the large stone wall covered by vines, its real story lost in legend, worn down, weather-ravaged. The black iron gate surprisingly opened to her touch and swung inward on the long dirt drive lined by willows and oaks, the branches and leaves waving gracefully over it.

The adventurous paperboy tucked his camera closer to him beneath his messenger bag and moved into the property, left abandoned these past fifty years. Troy had trouble taking it all in, the imposing expanse of it, the feeling of a secret history, of loss, happiness, joys and sorrows... Troy hoped the old house wouldn't collapse on him. People had photographed or at least claimed to have entered the family crypt in the last ten years but said they couldn't get near the house itself. There seemed to be a presence there, an aura that made the blood chill with each step taken. A foreboding, protective presence that they had all felt better to leave alone. Curious as he is emboldened, Troy was not dissuaded, the topic of ghosts rather excited him, or rather the possibility of them. He read as many books about them the town library provided, he even had dreams about those books and the unseen specters that inhabited the stories.

The brunette boy's spine tingled in anticipation as the trees opened to reveal the once stately mansion, its large white pillars stained and chipped by time's hand, the second floor balcony had a few planks missing in its floor, the front door to his surprise was wide open. Tentatively inching forward, he could see the grand staircase through the door, like a tease in an engrossing mystery movie calling him to cross the threshold.

"Wow." Troy breathed, raising his camera he snapped a pic, easily. Drawing the camera away from him, he gasped as he saw an image in the display. A tall, dark clothed man stood in the doorway, watching him. He looked up and saw no one. But he felt pulled to come closer as a mouse is enticed to creep nearer to the trap. Troy didn't understand why people felt trepidatious and horrified about the big old house. Despite the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, he felt almost welcomed, pulled in.

The steps were creaky but unexpectedly firm as he ventured onto the porch and slowly walked toward the great entrance. Movement along the windows and decrepit walls caught Troy's dark brown eyes to the side in what used to be the dining room. It was that tall man again. He saw a glint of a smile on the left his of the stranger's side. "H-Hello?" Troy asked stammering, "I-Is there someone here?" The presence felt all enveloping, like a warm familiar embrace. He couldn't describe the complex impact, but Troy's nerves settled into how it felt so passionate.

"You came..." Troy heard in his head. Gasping, he whirled around on his heels, "Who... said that... who's here? "

"Come upstairs." The warm, alluring voice said, "Don't be scared, its safe. I wouldn't hurt you." The drawl was fluid, like water falling from a spout, his white skin tingled with warmth that ran from his arms into his legs and pooled between them like a drop of syrup. "I've been waiting so long." The voice purred. "I've seen you pass by many times."

Troy let his camera dangle on his right shoulder as he took the grand dust-covered stair case carefully, keeping to the safe spots next to the railing, it wound around to connect with the second floor, unclean with debris everywhere, mice squeaked and pitter-pattered fast inside the rafters on the landing, he paused, letting for the startling sounds to subside while briefly setting his eyes on the broken window behind him. The voice chuckled, "She is a shell of her former beauty, that's for sure son."

"Why. Who're you? What do you want from me?" Troy was drawn to the bedroom to the right directly off the stairs.

"You'll see." He purred.

Inside the room, the floor was painted in a creamy white color, mostly chipped and old with cracks spreading in various directions. The fireplace had cobwebs, crumbled ashes and a draft. The windows on either side of the fireplace were dirty, broken and one ledge was rotted to the point of evaporation. In the corner was an old dresser with a big mirror. The only pieces of furniture in the room. Instead of raising his camera to take a picture, Troy laid it on the floor, walking up to the mirror and looking in it, his pink lips were parted.

Troy should've been scared when the specter walked up behind him, his pale shirt opened all the way down, suspenders looped by his hips, his black hair very messy. Ghosts could look that real? The boy stared in wonder as the black figure looked at him, touching his wavy brown hair on the back of his head. He shivered and didn't dare gulp as he felt an electrically instant kiss on his neck, Troy could feel his lips on his neck, brushing softly over the skin. The boy slid his eyes closed. "Why do I feel so chill with this?" He whispered almost incoherently.

"You've been called to be here." The specter whispered, his smooth hands circling the boy's waist and sliding up, "You wanted to come here, that's why you've been so obsessed about this mansion. You wanted to come to know yourself." He nuzzled Troy as his hands rested under his jean-covered hardened balls.

"It's true." Troy sighed, "I've seen you in my dreams. I didn't think ghosts were real."

His hands ghosted over the boy's hips and back up, Troy felt them on his now icy skin. "Look in the mirror, see yourself." He whispered in the awestruck boy's left ear.

Troy opened his eyes and gasped, he saw himself with wild brown curls in a translucent robe, clothes gone and cock hard under the material as he untied the sash and let it fall off his warm tanned shoulders, raining kisses on the adolescent's skin. Troy moaned, letting his head fall back, it felt so natural. He relished these seemingly imaginary kisses, these arms and he let himself become aroused, felt his body pulse with need, he reached a hand up and ran it slowly through his hair, "Adam." The boy breathed.

"Troy." He murmured, his large skilled hands cupping the boy's balls and massaging. They felt rock-solid. The whole thing felt like real. Troy gave in to the feeling, electrified. He felt hands on his ass cheeks, a knee nudging them apart. "Keep looking in the mirror." he said, his eyes a sharp and clear amber.

Troy obeyed, in the mirror he was naked now, his body now creamy white, nipples dark and pink, figure light and much calmer than he usually was, his eyes followed the path of the specter's hands from his balls to hips, watched his stomach quiver with impatient arousal, watched as his hand dipped into the brown curly thicket between his legs.

Troy cried out in pleasure as Adam's fingers touched his sensitive flesh, wet to dripping already, he pulled the boy against him, kissing the attractive neck, one hand on his balls and the other massaging his soft kissable lips, his eyes slid shut out of pleasure and the boy moaned, his legs beginning to shake with the feeling of approaching orgasm. Troy could feel a hot fire spark up in the fireplace, feel the onset of the evening come outside, the chill of the air. The boy was in another time as he writhed against the ghost Adam. His chest felt solid and undoubtedly real, and that hard, hot piece of flesh against his round bottom felt 100% real. He screamed, arching in pure ecstasy as Adam entered him from behind, hot, penetrating flesh opening him up. The boy panted, reaching back and grabbing a fistful of black hair, his body though presently self-fucked numerous times, mentally felt as though this was the first time he had been entered.

Adam moaned behind him, letting himself sit inside of the boy a moment before beginning a steady pace. Troy took a moment to look in the mirror and realize that in this wild dream he was a virgin, giving himself freely over. He was near losing his balance as the specter moved, he felt an airy hand on his back guiding him forward, he grasped at the mirror, it felt new with no dirt or old smells, he clung to it, watching his anxious cock and balls swing with each thrust, Adam's hands caressing his back and hips. Troy bit his lips, trying to quiet his growing cries of pleasure, someone might hear him…or would they?

"Let me hear you." he rasped, his voice full of heightened pleasure, "Please, let it go." He purred, the boy watched him, his face relaxed in pleasure, head back, Troy's Adam's apple pushed forward, chest glistening with a sheen of sweat, spattering of sweaty black hair between the open shirt.

Troy's eyes rolled back and he groaned, his legs trembling as he shouted out while his body gave in to orgasm, the specter pulled the boy against him, he bucked, his whole body aflame with pleasure. Troy felt white-hot warmth inside of him as Adam moaned against his neck, holding him close. Troy nuzzled him, sighing. Felt the ghost turn him around and hold him close.

"Look in the mirror beautiful boy." He purred.

Troy did. It was present day. He was dressed in his light gray hoodie, blue jeans and black Adidas shoes. His camera and messenger bag were hung over his right shoulder and the room was silent like it should be. Now Troy didn't feel him so strongly. He shifted himself and felt warm arousal between his legs. He thought he caught his own reflection winking at him and heard a giggle come from behind leading outside the room.

Troy scrambled to open his camera and was surprised to see pictures he didn't remember taking. Snap shots of handsome face and a beautiful room with a four-poster bed and a burning fire and exquisite interior. But then, when he went back to look a second time...they were gone, not a trace there.

As Troy left the house, his legs shaking like he really had been fucked hard, he felt a warm brush of air on his temples and saw that flash of tall man with a smirk on his face and smiled in return. He might very well come back and just take a few more pictures someday as he slipped through the gate and mounted his bike, taking one more glance at the mansion before pedaling back home..