Nikki Slick As Lydia Is Desperate To Fuck Beetlejuice

Time-traveling vixens and ghostly apparitions don’t usually mix, but Nikki Slick’s raunchy VR porn video “Lydia Is Desperate To Fuck Beetlejuice” combines the two in the most tantalizing way imaginable. Picture this: you’re a horny phantom, trapped in the afterlife, craving the touch of a real live human. In walks Lydia Deetz, the gothic temptress from your favorite Tim Burton film, and suddenly your spectral pork sword is ready to rumble.

The scene opens with Lydia dressed in her signature black lace bustier and ruffled skirt, long raven hair cascading over her porcelain shoulders. She paces the stage, hands fidgeting with anticipation. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” she chants, desperate to summon her ghoulish paramour. “Beetlejuice, where are you?!”

Suddenly, the ethereal Exit Only Unlimited door swings open and out pops Beetlejuice, looking more ridiculous and yet irresistibly sexy than ever. His wild green hair, crazed eyes, and that iconic black and white striped suit cannot contain his burgeoning erection. He postures and preens, grinning like a madman who’s just won the ghostly lottery.

“Lydia!” Beetlejuice exclaims, his dead voice dripping with desire. “You rang?” He approaches her, his simulated movements stiff and jerky in true corporeal undead fashion.

Lydia shyly lifts her skirts, revealing the creamy expanse of her thighs and a hint of lacy black panties. “Beetlejuice, I need you,” she purrs, eyes hooded with lust.

The ghostly cadaver fumbles with his zipper, liberating his immense member in one swift movement. It bobs and weaves like a crack addict trying to kill a roach, leaving Lydia drooling and trembling with need.

She falls to her knees, wanting nothing more than to worship at the altar of Beetlejuice’s undead junk. Her plump lips wrap around his phantasmal schlong, taking him deep into her throat. She gags and sputters, but doesn’t relent, bobbing her head like an animatronic pole dancer at a carnival.

Beetlejuice throws his head back, letting out a Darius Rucker impression worthy of a hall of fame induction. “Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he wails, his specter of a cock twitching and throbbing with spectral arousal.

Lydia takes her sweet time, slurping and slobbering all over Beetlejuice’s graveyard gherkin. She runs her hands up and down his rubbery member, tracing the raised veins and throbbing knots. She shifts to the side, letting the camera drink in the sight of her glistening pussy, framed by the lace trim of her soaked panties.

Plan A: Lydia persuades a spoony? Works every time.

With magma for blood, she uses her tongue like a roller coaster, lapping and swirling around the bulbous head, dipping into the crescent-shaped slit. Beetlejuice is in heaven, his ectoplasmic prick pulsing and weeping spirit fluids.

“Hey Beetlejuice, I got a catastrophe for you,” Lydia quips, grinding her hips suggestively. Her panties are practically melting off, soaked through with her necrophilic juices.

“How ’bout a catastrophe of your own?” Beetlejuice counters, whipping out a ghostly handjob move that would make the Crypt Keeper proud.

Beetlejuice slaps that big white booty, leaving a handprint on the supple surface. Lydia howls in ecstasy, pulling aside her panties to expose her dripping, completely hairless snatch.

“Sock it to me, BJ!” she commands, spreading her cheeks and presenting her engorged clit like a prize-winning plum.

Beetlejuice doesn’t disappoint. He slams into her, driving his phallus deep into her aching void. Lydia screams, her pussy clenching like a velvet vice around his cock. He pounds her mercilessly, his hips a blur of motion, making unearthly noises that sound like bodies falling off a roof.

Lydia reaches back, grabbing his ghostly balls and fondling them like the props she knows they are. Beetlejuice yowls and bucks, his spine arching like an exorcism victim. His dead flesh slaps against her tatters as he pistons away, his hips churning faster, chasing his ethereal release.

Lydia’s thighs quake as an orgasm of tectonic proportions hits her. Her cervix feels like an eternal spring, gushing girl cum all over Beetlejuice’s jackhammering schlong. She grinds her clit into him, juices squirting out with the force of a garden hose.

With a shout that echoes through the seven layers of the underworld, Beetlejuice comes like a dump truck. His nettles fire off like a machine gun, covering Lydia’s o-face with a layer of fresh ectoplasm. It drips and oozes through her hair, clinging to her skin like the world’s seediest religious experience.

They collapse, a tangle of spectral limbs and spent, wilting flesh. Lydia nuzzles into Beetlejuice’s chest, relishing the feel of his black heart beating against her cheek. “Can we do this every night?” she sighs, chasing away ghosts with her fingers.

Beetlejuice grins, his green eyes glittering with malevolent mischief. “Sweetheart, after a catastrophe like that, I think we just might be married.” He presses a spectral kiss to her forehead, sealing their supernatural union.

And that’s the naughtiest, wildest, most depraved retelling of “Lydia Is Desperate To Fuck Beetlejuice” imaginable. It’s not for the faint of heart, or the easily titillated, but if you’re looking for some high-class necrophilia with a heaping side of Tim Burton cosplay, this is the porn for you.