Joni Russell felt her memories beginning to slip away. What had she been doing? Oh, yes. They had all been skinny-dipping. Then it came. The .riptide.
She looked at her hands. Transparent. Then she looked down. Her nude body was splayed in the sand, half out of the water. Her hair was drenched and covered with seaweed. Her mouth was unbreathing, her eyes unmoving. So this is what it is like to be dead, she thought.
She felt herself slipping into the void.
Please
, she pled to a dimly-conceived god,
I don't want to be dead. I know you can change the past. Please help me. I don't care if somebody else has to die, just please don't let it be me.
And strangely enough her deity answered, and whispered to her what she must do.
That's when she saw Tommy Dalton, kneeling in the surf, then standing up, his magnificently nude Greek god body shedding droplets of water, his normally curly blond locks plastered to his skin.
Tommy stood, not quite remembering how he got here. He had been swimming toward another part of the beach after the current had carried him outward, seeking to bury him in the ocean's depths.
Then he saw something lying in the sand, half out of the water. It was hard to tell in the moonlit darkness, but it looked as though it could be a person. As he got nearer, he could see that it was the body of Joni Russell, she of the exclusive Chi Delta Gamma sorority and the perpetually sneering lips. Her nude flawless body was magnificent, almost genetic (or at least well-funded) perfection. Okay, may the crab eating her left ear was kind of a turnoff, but still.
Tommy rushed over to Joni's corpse and turned her head to the side to see if she was breathing. Just then, Joni felt herself suddenly being drawn back into her body. She gasped for air just as Tommy pushed on her back to drive the water from her lungs.
"I'm okay," she told Tommy, "I can breathe. I'm just so cold. Lie on me, Tommy. Warm me. I need to feel the heat of your body."
Tommy lay down on top of her, covering her back from head to toe with his own naked body. Her body felt like ice. He couldn't believe a person could be that cold and still be alive. He rested his legs on her legs, his arms on her arms, and his chest on her back, completely covering her. His balls and cock were pressed against her firm buttocks, partially submerged into the crack of her ice-cold, but nonetheless perfect, spa-trained ass.
That's when Joni began to move, clenching and unclenching her well-trained gluteus maximus, alternately squeezing and loosening her buttocks, feeling Tommy's prick predictably beginning to grow hard, lodged as it was in the crack of her ass. No man could resist her charms, Joni knew, especially some working class lowlife like Tommy Dalton. Not exactly country club material. Possibly cuntry club material though, she thought, as she began to work him harder. And his football-honed body had much to recommend it over those polo-playing preppies she usually fucked. She knew that Tommy wanted her, could see it in his eyes in the quad every time he walked past her on his way to the physics building.
Tommy felt Joni beginning to move, her ass cheeks alternately gripping and releasing his increasingly swollen prick. She began to rock her ass up and down, and Tommy joined her rhythm, thrusting his cock between her buttocks, matching her motion, his turgid cock slipping further and further into her crack, his balls sliding up and down the backs of her firm, artificially tanned thighs. His mouth found her ear, the crab now sidling quickly away, conceding his feast to Tommy. He took Joni's earlobe into his mouth, gently sucking it and running his tongue around its contours, as he thrust faster and faster into her ass crack. He ran his tongue up and down the back of her neck, as she shifted upward. "I want you inside me," she told him, rising on her knees to afford him better passage. He pushed deeply inside her.
Joni felt herself impaled on Tommy's prick, as he thrust his cock all the way into her in one savage motion. Well, maybe not quite all the way, as she learned in the next thrust, as Tommy went boldly where no man had gone before. No wonder his teammates called him Long Gun Tommy. And he was thick, stretching her to the limit each time he pounded into her. He reached around to grab her breasts as he continued to pump her, moving his attentive tongue from the back of her neck to her mouth, his tongue finding hers, thrusting into her mouth almost as hard as his cock was pounding into her. She reached her hand right underneath him, grabbing his balls, squeezing them, feeling them jump in her grip. Her left hand found his, and she interlaced her fingers with his, as the onslaught of his shaft continued.
She turned her head further to the side, so his tongue could reach further into her mouth, and it began to thrust inside that orifice in perfect rhythm with the trusting of his cock and the pace with which she squeezed and manipulated his balls with her well-practiced hands. His fingers were running circles around her already swollen nipples, sending waves of electrical excitement throughout her body.
The dark god whispered once more in her mind, telling her again what she must do. She began thrusting her ass in time with Tommy's movements, impaling herself up to the hilt of his cock with each thrust, faster and faster as Tommy's panting grew stronger and stronger. He was close now.
"Breathe me into you," she said, as he entered the final throes, squeezing her hand in his, as he arched his back and opened his mouth wider against hers. She felt her whole body convulsing as she came and squeezed his balls tightly, feeling them jump as Tommy came, pouring his seed into her like water from a high-pressure fire hose.
She breathed herself into his mouth with all the lungpower of a ten-year-old blowing out the candles on her birthday cake and felt her self leaving her body even as Tommy collapsed upon her. She rolled the weight of his dead body off of her and onto the wet sand.
Too bad,
she thought
