On a rainy evening in downtown Seattle, the man known as "The Coomer" unwound on his couch, watching television. The soft patter of rain, and bustle of the city below his apartment window was soothing to him. One fact of The Coomer was that he was a pervert. His neighbors knew from the callous calls in the night, the declarations that bled through their drywall, things like, "IS THAT TIGER GIRL HENTAI DOUJIN KINOPLEX?!" and "I'M COOMING!" The Coomer had no shame about being a pervert. He wasn't ashamed of what he did with women. Or men. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he got off on it. And much to the dismay of everyone living in the building, he seemed to get off to anything and everything.
With his greasy, stained white wife-beater shirt, baggy shorts down around his ankles, and a pair of beat up sneakers resting at the edge of the coffee table, The Coomer looked like an extra from a rap video. His choice of media for the television to watch was also quite telling: A Japanese "cartoon" called "Highschool Pussies." He was sitting there, watching as two teenage girls were getting fucked by a group of middle aged men, with a wide smile on his face, and a firm grip on his cock. He declared to nobody in particular, "Yes! I can COOM to this! This is fucking awesome!" and to coom he tried, excitedly thrusting his hips back and forth, pumping himself harder and faster than ever before. But there would be no coom to come to The Coomer, for the dastardly television had suddenly switched to static.
"FUCK!" he bellowed, having been brought low by the boldness of his misfortune. "Oh my god," he muttered, looking around the room in desperation. He stood up, still hard and throbbing, but now with no outlet for his lusts. The Coomer was foiled, as if fate itself had decided to blue-ball him. He sat back down on the couch, putting one hand to his balding hair in frustration, the other still resting on his crotch. After a few moments of silence, he let out a deep sigh. But then the static on the television began to form into a figure, as spine-chilling whispering filled the air around him. If The Coomer had anything but a brain full of cum, he might have been scared. Instead, he complained, shouting "What now, you shitty box of wires?!" at the screen.
The image slowly solidified into that of a woman's face. Long, black hair was draped over most of it, only revealing the lips and chin, of which were discolored in a blue-ish grey tone. She crept forward, beginning to exit the television with an unnatural slowness, like she was walking through molasses or quicksand. The rags on her body were phantasmic and paranormal, whipping in a wind that did not exist within the confines of the apartment. And when she finally stepped out of the television, standing before him, he could just barely see that her eyes were completely white, as if they had been replaced by pools of ice.
"You... my next victim..." the woman said, her voice a mix between a low growl and a chilling whisper. But then she gasped, noticing that The Coomer had once again begun to masturbate himself. "W-What are you... I'm about to kill you, and you're touching y-your... thing?!"
"Thank you, mysterious television-based ghost lady," he replied, continuing to stroke his cock. "You just saved me from a hellish evening of sexual frustration! And oh my god, what you're wearing- It's so tight and sexy! You look like the hottest piece of ass I've ever seen!" He looked up at the TV, grinning with delight. "But seriously, what gives?"
"I-I am Saya Kurosawa, the ghost who haunts this building," she continued, inching back from him on unsteady feet. "But you! You're the monster living here! I'll kill you! Pervert! PERVERT!"
"Oh god, my dick has never been this fucking hard before!" The Coomer exclaimed, glancing down at his massive erection in amazement. "You know what, fuck this! I wanna stuff your hot little pussy full of cock, and then when you're all satisfied, we can talk about killing me or whatever."
"That is not how ghosts work!" Saya growled, but there was a hint of confusion in her voice. She wasn't sure if he was joking around, or actually serious. And she didn't want to find out the hard way. "You know what, I'm out! This is just too weird for me! Good luck with your perverted life!" And with that, she turned to clamber back into the television. But the coomer had been blue-balled once, and he was not going to let it happen again. He grabbed the ankles of the spirit, causing her to tumble and fall onto the floor with a loud thud.
She was dragged by her legs across the carpet, kicking and screaming as The Coomer pulled her closer, his schlong straighter and truer than ever before. She yelped, "Wait! No! Don't do this! Please! Don't fuck me! I'll be good! I'll leave!"
"The coom is non-negotiable, and I swear to the godless life I live, I will make you cum so hard, you'll forget all about being dead," The Coomer said, his voice becoming more and more demonic. "I don't care if you're a ghost or not, the penis demands satisfaction."