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Horny Ghost Overtakes Texas Home By Moaning, Groaning, And Cumming It's Casper-Like Brains Out

GAINESVILLE, Texas — No one would confuse a small house on Denton Street in Gainesville for a moving company. But if you do move in, you haul yourself right back out -- and quick.

“It’s like a revolving door,” said Linda Hill, the home’s owner. “The longest anyone stayed in this house was six months.”

Years ago, Hill and her husband bought several homes in the same neighborhood in order to rent them out. The one on Denton Street was the only one that couldn’t keep a stable tenant.

Hill said she and her husband had no idea why. Then, finally, after 10 tenants moved out in less than two years, someone told her husband the house was haunted.

At first, Hill didn’t believe it.

“No,” she said. “No. Not at all.”

Rumor has it, the house, built in the 1840s, used to be a bordello. That’s why Hill said many of the ghosts here tend to reveal themselves in a particular nature.

“Sexual,” she said. “There’s no other way to put it.”

Hill said several people have recorded EVPs -- electronic voice phenomenon -- where the ghosts can be heard talking dirty in the house.

"'Oh baby, oh baby, yeah,'" Hill said, mimicking what has been heard. "'Yeah, I like it like that.'"

Not all the ghosts here are that way, though. There’s a door in the upstairs bathroom that regularly opens, even after it’s been shut tight.

Oh, and there's also a 19-foot-well underneath the living room. Some people believe it’s a spiritual portal, which they have said may explain how so many different ghosts and spirits have ended up in the house -- and particularly in the room right next door to that well.

Havent done this in a while, but here's the audio blog. 

I gotta be honest. I'd love to live in a sexual ghost house. I'd be cleaning my room in a sexy little number. What type of number? Kinda forward of you to ask... But, I'll indulge. What would I wear? Oh, I dunno. Maybe some thin joggers that outline my meaty (in my own mind) penis in a way that makes the ghosts and goblins wanna gobble up my vasectomy-scarred testicles in a way that would have the underworld in a sexual tizzy. Maybe, just maybe, I whisper something ever so gently as the ghosts scream for my soul. 

Maybe, just maybe, there's a time when I too am as horny as a ghost. After all, a side effect of one of my new medications is an explosive amount of semen that will literally make a human puke if they saw it. I'm talkin chunks. Big ones. Bombs away. Lookin like a backed-up firehouse filled with carrots and peas. Well, maybe not like that. I don't have Chunky Soup cum. Don't want that rumor going again. That'd be the end of my sexual adventures with a ghost that has opened HER mind, body, and spirit to my loins which are currently primed like a Honda lawnmower on a summer Saturday.  

I'd fuck the ghost on the stairs probably. Why? Because they don't have backs. If you try to have an intimate love-making session with a human on some old, oak stairs, you could end up shattering their spin into a million fuckin pieces. A ghost though. A ghost aint got no fuckin bones, brother. Them ghosts are bone-free. Call em chicken nuggets. Call em chicken tendies. Call em whatever you want as long as they end up on those damn stairs, see-through legs wide-the -fuck open lookin like a portal to the great darkness that will bring you to the light in ways that you wouldn't believe. 

Anyway, 10 people have sold that house in 10 years. That means you can swoop in and get a great deal ESPECIALLY since this article came out. You either gotta be an absolute freak that loves SUPER horny stuff or you gotta be a 40-year-old mustachioed retired Marine with an adventurous spirit, semi-liquid income, and a 2014 Toyota Tundra that you plan on driving until the wheels fall off while also living in San Antonio with plans to move to Chicago in the near future so that you can be around Big Cat, PFT, Hank, Kate, Dave, Eddie, Carl, Cheif, the Yak Boys, and Zah daily in order to escape your downstairs office where you work alone and feel sad while longing for the sweet touch of a beyond-the -grave lover but I don't wanna be too specific. 

PS. If it's good enough for Demi Moore, it's good enough for you, you piece of shit.