the water's numbing cold. This was hers. Pure Casey. Undiluted. In

the Middle Ages, they'd have burned her at the stake.

I took off my clothes and stood there a moment, naked, looking down at

her, watching myself rise. Amazed a little.

Then I went into her.

I went in hard, tickled by perversity. The smell of damp musty earth

suddenly strong around us. I pumped at her until her cool skin grew

warm again and then moved her violently on top of me, exchanging places

with her- the ground, the old crumbled bones beneath my arched back and

thighs.

She reached down. Her fingers clawed the damp soil. She took up a

handful and ground it against my chest. I felt a sudden all-enveloping

chill. She leaned over me and grasped the headstone in both hands

again and I rose up high to meet her.

I looked up into a face that was already trembling on the near side of

orgasm, past the blind-seeming eyes, and glimpsed myself as though

reflected in some dream image as clouds drifted by the moon. I saw us

as though from above, locked together, clashed in need. The headstone

behind me. I saw huge dead hands reach up out of the churning earth

and pull us down.

As she screamed, I felt those hands on me. Broken stalagmite fingers.

On my shoulders. On my neck. Lightly clutching.

Cold and sweating, I came too. And screamed along with her. While the

hands receded. Tendrils of smoky mist, climbing back into the soil.

"My god!"

I heard my own nervous "You too, huh?" "You were moving at me right up

out of the ground. I was fucking a dead man!"

I felt her shudder. Her body sparkled with beads of sweat. "God!

Kiss me. Kiss me easy."

It was very soft and warm. For a moment I felt the strangeness clear a

tiny space for us, like stepping into a dense fog and watching it swirl

away around your feet. I felt her cool breasts brush my chest,

laughter.

Загрузка...