Phantom Fever

Her head frozen in place by the unseen force, her eyes traveled over to the framed picture of her late husband, Logan, on the corner wall. Of course not, Misty thought. That's ridiculous and impossible. The sensation in her breasts intensified as the phantom persisted. Misty felt her mouth finally freed and licked her lips. She tasted nothing, as if it'd never happened. She looked down. Her tits were still.
"I must be dreaming," she said aloud to herself. She looked around her bedroom. Only the light from the shining moon guided her as she jumped up and closed the window. Misty quickly hopped back into bed and pulled her sheets over her nakedness. "Must have been more drunk than I thought," she mumbled. She laid back down and closed her eyes, trying to ignore her rapidly beating heart and rising temperature she began counting backwards to help herself relax.
"Five, four, three, two..."