[ Feedback ^sharp : sharper@inorbit.com ]
Consenting adult fiction.
Story : "I guess"
He was a vampire, I guess.
I cruised the cemetery loads of nights and, like anybody, I never saw anything that gave me fright, 'less it was the ugliest cts trying to score. I went with them if they wanted.
So it was a full moon that night, the best, but the place was quiet, strangely. I strolled through in silence, barely making a noise in the gravel and, soon, on dewy grass walking between the headstones. I sat on one of the graves - it was a sizeable tomb. Then he was sitting next to me.
That was a surprise. He must've crept up very quiet, his bare feet on the soft lawn. Or where had he come from?
"You look..." he said, placing a frozen hand on my knee, "... nice."
He also looked nice. Jet black hair and pearl-white skin. A narrow frame in dark oversized clothes - inside the cavity of his jacket I could see a lean naked chest. Shivering slightly, slightly quivering, he had pale, bluish lips, and smiled a weak smile, hardly opening his mouth except for a narrow slit though which I noticed his seemingly wine-stained teeth.
"Are you drunk?" I asked.
"Dr'nk..." he said, "yes, dr'nk," and his hand rubbed my leg up and down with a cat's meandering insistence. Quickly then he made for my fly and started to grope, the stroke of his fingers a-curl round my trousers.
He was cute. I looked at his eyes. He directed his gaze towards me and stared back at my face, but didn't seem to see anything, or rather, it was as if he were looking hard at something behind my face, something inside my face, something... beneath my skin. His delicacy disturbed me. Was he on drugs?
But I didn't say anything else, didn't see the point, I leaned in towards his grey, empty eyes, crafty and scheming. As our faces came together, and our lips touched (he kissed my face hungrily), I opened my jeans for him to touch.
His fingers were cold like ice and his mouth was cool, clean and vibrant, juicy, icy, fresh - I wanted his tongue. He pulled back and said, "You taste good!" His thin half-made smile grew slightly wider now, more animated his eyes starting to sparkle. What was that I saw in his face? A strange erotic charge that turned me on and made me want to fuk him. Hunger.
We kissed again as his hand worked my junk, fondling and curling round my balls, making them cold. I peeled his jacket from his cooperating arms and threw it to the ground. His cold delightful hungry tongue in my mouth, yearning, uninterrupted except when, working my shirt up to my shoulders - his hunger made me hard - I chucked it quickly over my head and our skin fused together with the soft mortar of perspiration - his hardened nipples grazed against me.
I moved my hand to his zip - "I need blood," he whispered, caressing my ear with his tongue - I sprung him open and felt around a narrow empty waist to the top of his ass where the hair grew thick like a plaited tail, and my hand slid inside his belt. He growled now in my ear at the sensation of my grip. My fingers tracing their way through the hairy cleft to his soft exposed hole deep beneath, pressed a tentative entry. I felt him whimper. My other hand I had around his drawn shoulders, stroking his back, a vein-less expanse of white which shone in the moonlight like it was the landscape of the moon itself. He moaned and shivered and licked my un-shaven chin, dragged his tongue seductively across my bristles, skipped to my shoulder, licking, where he tucked his face into my neck, dousing my collar in wet minty breath, like novocaine. My hand held the back of his head and combed through a thick black mass of his hair.
Ouch! That was like a stapler going in!
I pulled him away.
"Hey, don't bite!"
"I need... I need... to." He looked surprised and contrite.
"Well, don't mark."
"I won't hurt you I promise."
"No. Don't."
It was a dark desperate honesty which melted me. He was staring at my neck, and he opened his mouth and, wide, lunged forward in charming affection. Oh, what a lovely guy! He ate at me with the hunger of a bride, like a child at the tit, like a chick, wide mouthed and wild. I felt a sting and let him do as he liked whilst my fingers played with his ass.
"Stand up," I whispered, intending he should to drop his trousers to his feet. He did not stray from his focus, so I heaved us up to our feet. His face buried against my throat, his arms drew round me firm. He held me still in a feisty unrelenting grip. Stillness, and that strange feeling of his teeth nuzzling beneath my ear. I wanted it.
His trousers collapsed, cold mist groping his bottom and his legs, and his prick fell out, thickening slightly, rising slightly in the moment. I was feeling weak (it was my intense desire) and strong (that was my desire as well, filling me). I stroked his penis gently with my penis and ran my hands lovingly over his gorgeous butt. He whimpered and tightened his hold on me. His buttocks tensed and relaxed. He was, I felt it, more and more excited, more in the moment, more willing, more involved, more willing to accept, more willing to give me what I wanted, pushing against me and the tombstone against which I leant.
My cock fitted neatly between his legs. The natural curve of it fitting the natural cave inside, pushing and pushing towards him. He did not move except to couch his arse around my prik, guiding and accommodating it. His face buried in my neck, and that slight numb sting of feeling, he gripped me and my penis harder still.
"You want..." I said.
He was silent. Consumed. My dick was wet. Sweat flowed and squeezed between our fastened chests. In the moonlight, I looked down over his shoulder, the white silver shoreline of his tapering back, the obscuring hair at its base, his buttocks shining beneath the fascination of my fingertips.
"I'm gna fk u," I mumbled dousing my face with his hair and planting my lips on his ear. "Let me..."
My hard prik pushed deeper still. He helped it in, sitting on it sturdily, all the time his face concentrating on the pulse at my neck, he pulled himself onto me, pushing me down, kneeling on me, the drenching moss squeezed down by his shins. I almost lay down on the frozen tomb, my driving prick piercing him like a wooden stake forcing t'wards his soul.
He was a funny one. Intense and full of a motionless, ecstatic passion. I felt his throat contract and expand where it pressed against me, a bit like he was drinking, or like he was breathing me in. My prick sliding violently deeper, I held him and pushed, and he held on but still his face still held against me. Still.
"You are lovely," I said. "No one's fkd you like I'm gonna fk you," I said, feeling his bottom and the root of my shaft submerged in his anus.
His hand wound behind, between our legs, touched my balls where they hung over my ass crack, sweaty and hot. I felt his fingertips touch the piston of my fucking cock where it disappeared into him. His fingers slid gently against it and tickled my crotch.
I pressed it harder into his flesh.
"Let me even further in," I thought, "let me even further in." I was faint, I felt so excited, so hard and so full of passion for this beautiful thrilling guy, I was faint. My head was light and the drama of his grip - I had never felt such enthusiasm - excited me so much - pulled me against his ecstatic body - made me weak - my head was clouding across - my head - I was... like I couldn't see, like I was dying in the astounding force of my own orgasm. His grip was so tight so I could not move him either way. He held me like he had become a physical growth, stuck, like a doctor's leech, or, a limpet shell soldered to its rock, or, like the roots of a leaning tree link to the brutal earth despite its storms.
What was going on? The sky had darkened. Was the Moon obscured? It was dimmed against the blackening sky, and swam in a fluid gloss of stars as a jolt of the thick yolk of my ejaculation throttled into his stomach, whilst his cum squirted onto my chest in tortured spurts, and his anus gripped, and released, gripped. And, finally, released.
My fucking cock.
"You're the business," I said, sweat pouring from me. Sweat and cum running between us. My hand rested in the small of his back, toying with his curious furry tail. He buried his face still harder into me, biting... was it?
I was confused. "You're hurting," I complained, "get off!"
"There's plenty of that to spare," I said, "Baby," fainting.
Suddenly he was disconnected, standing several feet off, by a large stone sarcophagus, with his back to me, his long exotic tail tickling his behind, bloody sperm a trickle on his thighs.
My fucking cock.
He was leaning against the sepulcher and panting. Bigger, in strengthening calm, he pressed his palms into the dewy moss which quilted the stone in a velvet of soft sponge. Holding firm, his muscles filled, he panted slowly, limbs solid, neck heft, his back was broader now and exuding a golden light. He stood naked and huge and screamed monstrously up into the black pit of the arching sky.
My fucking cock.
He turned and look'd at me with wild surprise, stout and new, mouth dripping. And he was gone.
The air swims in dark starlight, a black running reflection of the blood which flows forever from my corpse - for now I wait on each and every night, no matter if the moon be full or no, and though he never comes, I wait by my tomb.
He was a vampire, I guess.
[ Feedback ^sharp : sharper@inorbit.com ]
Consenting adult fiction.
Story : "I guess"
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^sh