The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between
consenting adults. If you are too young, too uptight, or your
local government is too oppressive, you should stop reading now.
This story is in the public domain. While you are legally free
to do anything you like with it, out of courtesy to the author,
I humbly request that you leave my name and contact information
with this story.
The Fearless Vampire, Part 1
By Poison Ivan
By Poison Ivan
_Warning! The following work of fiction contains
descriptions of sexual activity between humans and vampires. If you are
under the age of 18, this story is not for you._
I check the clock. 4:54. Only six minutes to go. I
check my email again, and there's still nothing important to
deal with. I rifle through the huge pile of papers in my
inbox again. I check the clock. 4:55. Only five minutes
to go.
I want to get out of this place something fierce. Today
is payday, which means I had to deliver paychecks to
everyone in the office. It's actually the only part of the
job I like, but I should have worn more comfortable shoes.
My feet are killing me, my calves are killing me, my back is
killing me, my neck is killing me. Even my ears hurt,
thanks to these goddamn earrings my boyfriend gave me. I
don't know what possessed me to wear the fucking earrings,
it's not like I see the fucking idiot any more.
I'm sore sore sore. If I still had money, it would be a
great day to get a massage. I could _really_ use a massage.
The thing is, until a year ago, I actually had the money. I
could've just called someone and I'd be on my way to get a
nice massage. You see, Mom and Dad have money, and I used
to be on an allowance. I was rich, and I was the real party
girl. But then one of my friends threw a big bash and her
wet blanket neighbor got pissed at the loud music and called
the cops. The police came and charged me with indecent
exposure and resisting arrest. It was a ridiculous
situation, and the police were totally unreasonable. I got
a good lawyer and the charges were dropped, but Mom and Dad
were furious. And they just cut me off--snap!--Just like
that. My lifeline gone. And now I have this shitty job.
So I don't like wet blanket neighbors, and I don't like
cops. And, right now, I'm not too happy with Mom and Dad,
either.
I hear footsteps coming my way and I check the clock and
I hope whoever it is will just walk on by. But no such
luck. "Virginia, honey, how are you doing?" Oh, shit, it's
Larry. Larry the asshole. Don't honey me, asshole.
Doesn't he realize it is 4:57, only three minutes to go?
He's standing at the entrance to my cubicle, staring. I
pretend to read my email. Maybe if I look busy he'll go
away.
"How are you doing on those expense reports?" Larry asks.
Oh Christ. Now I'm annoyed. Really annoyed. I spin in my
chair and face him. Larry is a short man with a tendency to
sweat and a belly that hangs out over his belt. About six
months ago his wife divorced him. He probably deserved it.
Larry is a loser. Expense reports? He must be kidding.
"I'll get them to you tomorrow," I say.
Larry sighs. Larry sighs a lot. He runs his fat fingers
through his hair. "Virginia, I wanted to finish them
tonight," he whines.
"I have an appointment at 5:30," I lie. If I can just
make him feel a little guilty. "I could cancel it. But
I've already canceled twice. I may have a problem
rescheduling." I give him my best hangdog eyes.
Larry sighs again. He stands there quiet for a minute,
thinking. "No, no, don't cancel your appointment," he says.
"But can you have them done by noon tomorrow? I need to
turn them in tomorrow."
I have no idea if I can get them done by noon tomorrow,
how the hell should I know? "Sure," I say, "no problem."
Larry turns his pudgy body around and walks away. Thank
God. And it's 5:02, I'm two minutes late getting out of
this shit hole. I grab my purse and I'm out of here like a
truck with bad brakes, moving fast in my too-high-for-payday
heels.
My car, my car is the only real joy I have left in my
life. It's a beautiful Porsche, which I got when I was
still on my allowance. It's very fast, and it's very red.
It looks beautiful there in its parking spot, all red and
shiny and ready for anything. Unfortunately, I'll have to
give it up soon, since I can't afford the insurance any
more. But for now, I love every second I spend in my little
red rocket. I am a real terror behind the wheel!
I open the door and settle down into the leather seat and
for a moment or two I just sit. I love sitting in my
Porsche, the odor of the black leather, the smooth leather
steering wheel. I kick off my shoes, close the door, turn
the key, fire her up. The engine growls appreciatively. My
Porsche loves to have her motor running.
While the engine warms up, I run my hand over the
gearshift. The manual transmission always gets comments
from my friends. A woman driving a stick? I hear way too
many phallus jokes. My boyfriend said my Porsche represents
my subliminal desire to be a dominatrix--all wrapped up in
black leather and leading a powerful machine around by its
dick.
My boyfriend was a fucking moron. Which is why he's now
my ex-boyfriend.
In fact, I don't think of my car as a man at all. To me,
my Porsche is female. I like to think of her as a
temperamental woman, one who carries me to the store or to
see my friends and waits patiently for me to finish my
errands. She's my little errand girl. And then I have her
drive me home, purring like a kitten as I rev her motor.
I don't tell a soul about this female car thing, though.
Given the choice between dick jokes and dyke jokes, I'll
take the dick jokes, thank you.
I take off the emergency brake and back my Porsche out
and take her into first. I'm the only one driving in the
garage, and I'm out in a flash. Traffic is light, everyone
must be working late to finish their expense reports. Ha!
I'm even hitting the lights. I only need to run one yellow
and one red on the trip home. As I turn into the parking
garage at home, I almost hit some old lady on the sidewalk,
and I honk at her, beep-beep-beep! And the old lady gives
me the finger! Ha! I can't help but shake my head and
laugh. An old lady giving me the finger! Christ, she must
be fifty years old! I like that kind of spirit in an old
bag!
The close parking spots are all full, so I park my
Porsche in the handicapped spot and leave her there and go
to the elevator lobby. The lobby from the parking garage is
a chintzy little room. The building owners do a good job
keeping the building up, but they don't get down into the
garage much. There are always old newspapers on the table
and the ashtray is always full of old cigarette butts. And
the elevator in this building is slow slow slow slow slow.
And hanging around in this stupid little lobby is boring
boring boring boring boring. Sometimes I take the stairs up
to my apartment, but not today--my feet hurt, and I don't
want to tackle seven flights of stairs in heels. At least
there is a lock on the outside door, and I don't need to
worry about creeps getting in and hassling me. My friend
Alice lives in an apartment building with an open lobby, and
she was beat up and robbed while she waited for the
elevator. She was lucky. She could've been raped and
murdered.
Ugh, I shouldn't think about rape and murder, but what
else is there to think about waiting for the elevator? It's
the one thing I envy of men--they don't need to worry about
being raped and murdered. And it pisses me off. Why should
_I_ have to worry about it, and not, say, my idiot boss
Larry? Or my idiot ex-boyfriend?
Finally, the elevator bell rings, the door opens, I hurry
in and punch the sixth floor button. The door slowly closes
and the elevator goes slowly into motion. I swear, it takes
ten seconds to get from one floor to the next.
Parking. Lobby. One. Two. Three.
A girl could grow old waiting. At least the elevator
doesn't stop to let anyone else get aboard.
I finally get to my floor, and thankfully the hallway is
empty, no neighbors to deal with. I'm home, I'm alone, I
can finally relax. I let my purse dangle from my hand, and
I sashay down the hall, and, since I know no one is
watching, I giving my hips a sexy little swing. Although I
wouldn't mind if anyone was watching. Someone peeping
through a crack in the door. I've always had a soft spot in
my heart for little peeper perverts.
I need to unlock two locks to get in my apartment, the
second one for an impressively heavy deadbolt. The owners
installed deadbolts when some old biddy in the building
demanded them. At the time, I thought the biddy was a
demented old fool, but now that I have the big lock, I like
it. There's something very secure about being inside a room
knowing a deadbolt is set. Even so, that's another thing
that pisses me off. Why should I need a heavy lock to feel
secure? Why should I need to protect myself? Why are there
so many sickos in this world?
I'm inside, I close the door behind me, I put away my
coat and purse, I turn the deadbolt--clunk. There's a note
on the table from Jessica. Jessica is my roommate. After
my parents cut me off, I had to rent out the spare room to
help pay the rent. And my roomie turned out to be Jessica,
a timid, plain girl who shops at Penney's and almost never
says a word. She spends most of her time alone in her room,
frigging herself off or something. She never even gets
phone calls, never says anything. Even when I see her face
to face, she doesn't talk to me. As a roommate, she's a
total disaster. The only good thing about her is she pays
her rent on time.
The note says Jessica might be late and that she has a
friend coming over. She might be late? Hell, I don't even
know when she usually gets in. "I gave Darlene a key, so
you don't need to stay if you don't want to." Jessica knows
I like to go out at night, but the way my feet hurt, I could
use a night off. And a girl's night in doesn't sound like a
bad idea. Besides, it would be nice to finally meet one of
Jessica's friends.
But first I want to take a shower and get in my bathrobe.
I kick off my shoes and stretch up high, blow the air out of
my lungs, and take in a deep breath. Ah! I give my scalp a
vigorous scratch, tousle my hair. It'll be great to take a
shower, wash my hair, curl up on a warm couch with a
magazine. All clean and warm and quiet. And meet this girl
Darlene. What would a friend of Jessica's be like? Well,
after all, she _is_ a friend of Jessica's. She's probably a
geek.
Since it's my apartment, I get the master bedroom, which
has the adjacent bathroom. Jessica's bathroom is bigger and
has a tub, but I prefer showers, anyway. I go into the room
and look at myself in the big mirror over the sink. My hair
is a mess, and my makeup is a little worse for wear. I need
to wash my face.
I take off my necklace and earrings, and that feels good.
Now that I'm unattached, I have no rings to take off, and
that feels good too! I pinch my earlobes to get the feeling
back. I strip all my clothes off. I usually wash my face
naked, to avoid getting water on my clothes. My
ex-boyfriend thought washing my face naked was funny, but not
as funny as the fact that I wash my face before I take a
shower. "Why do you wash your face at the sink when you're
just going to wash it again in the shower?" he would ask.
The fucking moron.
I used to cheat on the bastard a lot. Thinking about it,
I'm surprised I spent so much time with him. He was stupid,
he had an ugly, nasal laugh, and as often as not, he was a
premature ejaculator. I can't tell you how many times he
dropped his load all over my belly before he even got it in.
If I hadn't been cheating on him all the time, I would have
been one frustrated girl.
I gently wash my face, rinse the soap off, and pat my
face dry. I look at myself in the mirror. I like to look
at myself naked, and sometimes I like other people to look
at me naked too. I can be a real exhibitionist, if I'm in
the right mood. I am one of those girls who can eat
anything she wants and not gain weight. And I absolutely
love my tits. I hold the palms of my hands under them to
press them up. They don't sag much, so I can go bra-less on
occasion. But they are big enough to wobble, so I don't do
it much.
I lean in and study my face. I've always had a good
complexion--I can't remember the last time I had a zit. But
there are some things about my face I don't like, like my
practically non-existent eyelashes. And I wish my eyes were
a deeper blue--in this light they are almost colorless gray.
What I would give for Claudia Schiffer's eyes! And my hair
sucks. And my lips are a little on the thin side. So I'll
never be a fashion model. _C'est la vie_.
I love hot showers, and turn the water up as hot as I can
stand it. The bathroom steams up and I step into the stall,
close the glass door behind me. The hot water feels good on
my thighs, and I slowly move under the hot spray. My skin
flushes pink everywhere the water touches.
I lather up my hair, using too much shampoo, but that's
O.K., I like the feel of lots of suds in my hair. I massage
my scalp with my fingertips, working it hard, and I gently
work the lather into my hair, from root to tip. My hair is
all sudsy, and I massage my scalp again, and then rinse off.
The hot water runs over my face and down my front. A pink
flush from the hot water runs between my tits.
With a washcloth, I quickly wash the rest of my body,
paying particular attention to my neck, my ears, my
shoulders, between my legs, under my arms. I already shaved
my legs in the morning, and they still feel smooth--I won't
need to shave again for another day or two. I rinse off,
and I'm clean.
But I don't want to get out of the shower right away.
Instead, I just stand here, letting the hot water run over
me, over my shoulders, on my tits, I turn and it's against
my back, I turn and it's on my belly. It's hot and steamy
and pleasant and nice.
I stand under the hot water and I think about old lovers.
The good ones. Well, not necessarily the good ones, but the
memorable ones. The best ones were the kissers. Jackson,
who was one hell of a kisser. He wasn't much to look at,
but he sure knew how to kiss. When I'm bored I sometimes
think about what the perfect man should be, and he should
always kiss like Jackson. Slow, soft, teasing. He had this
way of kissing my upper lip--Christ, it makes my knees weak
just thinking about it!
And then there was Brad--never caught his last name--who
I fucked in a closet. _That_ was memorable! And Bertrand,
the Swiss boy I fucked twice in his filthy apartment. And
Linus, my girlfriend Alice's husband. Well, my
ex-girlfriend's ex-husband. Alice divorced Linus after she
found out, and she hasn't spoken to me since.
And Thomas, with the amazing dick. Very long, very
thick, and not very coordinated. He fucked me sore, and
when the pain didn't go away, I thought he'd injured me. My
gynecologist said my cervix was bruised. Jesus Christ, he
bruised my goddamned cervix!
Thinking about men is not a good idea. I should think
about something else, or I'm going to get mad all over
again. So I think about nothing. I just stand under the
hot water and feel it on me. But I'm bored, so fuck it, I'm
out of here. I cut off the water with a twist of the wrist.
The bathroom is steamed up and I can't see a thing in the
mirror. I turn on the fan and dry myself in fresh towels.
I rub a circle of steam off the mirror with a towel. I
look at my face centered in the circle. Damn, I look good!
I pat my skin with the towel. I put lotion on my face and
neck, and on my legs. I pinch my nipples and make them
stand up. Whee! That feels _too_ good! Maybe after
Darlene leaves tonight I'll frig myself off. I didn't do it
this morning like I usually do. Twenty-four hours without a
cum is too long! A long, leisurely late night masturbation
session would probably do me good.
I comb the tangles out of my hair, and the strands hang
blonde and straight around my head. Seeing my hair straight
like this reminds me how flat my hair is. I should get it
done. If only I had enough money for the hairdresser. And
I'd rather have bad hair than go to Supercuts. Sigh.
I dry off one last time, rubbing my skin pink with fluffy
towels, invigorating my skin, making it prickle. I'm
cooling off, and my nipples get all goosey.
I head back into the bedroom and put on a pair of men's
boxers (my sleeping attire of choice). I pull on my thick,
warm bathrobe, tie the belt around my waist. And now I feel
warm and comfortable. I hug myself, feel the warmth.
I go back out into the living room barefoot, pad-pad-pad,
adjust the thermostat to 76. That should be nice. I settle
down into the sofa cushions, get comfortable, and pick up a
three-week-old _Glamour_. I'm looking for a good article, I
remember one article a few years ago that explained how to
give a good blowjob, something like that, or maybe something
funny, but there's just all this shit about job interviews
and I'm flipping through the pages--
Wait! I thought I saw something move out of the corner
of my eye!
I look around but I don't see anything. The dining room
is empty. The kitchen looks empty. Someone could've ducked
back into the bedrooms, they could be lurking there,
waiting.
But I'm probably just seeing things. I glance around one
last time. I look back at my magazine but I'm thinking
about what I saw out of the corner of my eye. I look around
again. Still nothing. And I can't concentrate now. What
if someone _is_ in the room? Hiding. Could someone be
here? It's a security building, and there's a deadbolt.
How could he get in? But I swear I saw something, I swear I
_feel_ something. I shiver. Is someone there? I look
around and strain my ears. I don't hear a thing, and I
don't see a thing. Am I being paranoid? Why do I have this
feeling? My skin goes to goose bumps.
I put down my magazine and listen hard. I can hear my
own breath, and I can hear my own heart. But there is
nothing else. It is so _quiet_. How could it be so quiet?
I feel a pressure, a presence. I definitely feel a
presence. My heart thuds hard. I should get out of here.
There's somebody in here I know it I should call somebody or
I should get out of here and go next door or somewhere safe,
what if it's a rapist a sick rapist? The hairs on my arm
stand up and I'm afraid oh Christ I'm really afraid so
afraid--
_BOOM!_
A flash of light and a roar of thunder, and the sudden
downpour of rain.
A storm!
I exhale hard, but I'm still trembling. It's just a
storm! I never liked storms when I was little, I was scared
to death of them. I used to cower under my covers and cry.
Now that I'm grown up, I'm over the fear. But I still don't
like storms.
That feeling, that feeling I felt of someone in the room,
I bet I was just feeling the storm!
The rain booms on the pavement, a real downpour, and
there's a few more flashes of lightning. I'm relieved,
there's no one in the room. It's a real doozy, this storm.
I pick up the magazine again and I'm breathing too hard and
I try to look through the magazine but now I'm not sure, I
don't know, I'm not _completely_ relieved, the unease is
still in me. I put the magazine down again and listen. I
can feel it, still feel that funny presence, I still feel
something, and I'm not sure if it's the storm or not. What
if the uneasy feeling was from both the storm _and_ a
rapist? I should check the door, make sure it is still
locked--I feel a pressure, I shiver, I feel something--a
loud crackle--
_BOOM!_
I jump, my heart jumps, wow, that flash was blinding
close and the hissing explosion hurts my ears. My heart
skips, I swear is skips and the lights go out, and it's
dark.
I can't believe it's so dark. What happened to the
lights? I don't like this, I don't like this at all, it's
dark, really dark, I don't like the dark when it's dark like
this. I look around and there's dull gray light from the
window but everything else is totally black. And I swear I
feel something, I know it, I know it now for sure, I wasn't
imagining anything, I'm sure of it, there _is_ something
nearby, something in the room! But I know there can't be
anyone in the room, but I swear there is someone in the
room! Someone in the dark! I should hide, wait for whoever
is there to leave and forget about me but I'm afraid to move
in the dark, what if I run into him in the dark? Please let
it not be a rapist or a killer! Oh God, something moved! I
saw something move, a flicker of shadow in front of the
window. There _is_ someone in the room! My heart thumps in
my ears and I want to cry, someone is here in the room!
And another flash of lightning, and I can see for a
moment in the flash and the figure is right in front of me,
right in front of me, a tall dark figure standing over me
looking down at me and I'm going to die, I know I'm going to
die, oh God he's huge and he's right in front of me, a big
shadow of a man, and I'll be raped and killed and I scream--
_AAAAY!_
I can't help myself, and I shut up, but I can't hold it
back--
_AAAAY!_--I scream again, my throat hurts I scream so
hard. I don't want to be raped, I don't want to be killed!
I can't stop screaming--
_AAAAY!_
And the lights flash on and I can't bare to look at my
attacker, I close my eyes tight, please just leave me alone
and I tense up for the attack, I hold my breath with my eyes
closed tight.
I wait. My heart thumps and I wait. But there is no
attack. Why doesn't he attack? I can feel him, just a foot
away, standing over me. I breathe once, and I screw up the
courage to look.
It's a woman! A dark-haired woman! Right in front of
me, why is she standing so close? I can feel her breath on
my face. "I am Darlene," she says.
Darlene?
Oh yes, of course! Jessica's friend! It's Jessica's
friend. I exhale with relief. Not a rapist at all, and I
can't help but laugh. "You scared me," I say, and I laugh,
I laugh because it feels so good. She backs away, backs all
the way back to the front door and now I can breathe again.
She is tall, very tall. She has a black overcoat on, her
calves are bare, I don't think she's wearing hose, and she
has ruby shoes with five-inch stiletto heels. I like heels
as much as the next girl, but not the real high skinny ones.
How does she walk in those things? But it's a snap for her,
she steps back as natural as being barefoot. Her hair is
beautiful, black and lustrous, tumbling down in loose curls
around her shoulders. Her lips are deep red, and they look
soft and moist. And her eyes, her eyes are absolutely
black. I don't think I've ever seen eyes so black. She's
smiling at me, red moist lips, and she's staring, staring
hard with those weird black eyes, her stare makes me want to
fidget. My knee leaps uncontrollably, like a reflex, and I
grab it. I'm trembling. I need to calm down. With the
lights out, when I thought she was a rapist, she really gave
me a scare.
"So you are Virginia," she says, smiling with pearly
teeth. Her voice is a soprano, sweet, high and penetrating.
She unbuttons her overcoat and tosses it away, just dumping
it on the floor. She's wearing an incredible sleeveless red
dress, stretchy tight and very short. What party did she
just come from? Where ever she was, I'll bet the boys
couldn't keep their eyes off her.
Her body is incredible. She has big, round tits, and
her nipples are prominent, and there's no way she's wearing
a bra. The scoop neckline shows a lot of cleavage. She has
a flat tummy and nice round hips.
She steps off to the side and paces across the room,
slow, deliberate steps, her heels clicking, and she doesn't
take her eyes off me. Her body almost overpowers that
dress, it struggles to cling to her muscles as she moves.
"With a name like Virginia, are you a virgin?" she asks.
"No, I'm not a virgin," I answer. She paces along, and
now I'm not sure I trust her. What kind of question was
that, anyway? Am I a virgin? What kind of question is
that?
She laughs, a big, robust laugh. She just throws her
head back and it roars out of her. She has a slim, long
neck, her throat pulses with her laugh. "No, I don't
suppose you are," she says. She paces almost to the far
wall and stops, turns to face me. She pulls a chair from
the table and leans towards me over the back of the chair,
and I can look right into her deep cleavage. Her skin is
smooth and brown. My leg bounces in my grip.
She stays there bent over, just staring. I'm shaking,
what is she staring at? She stands upright again, still
looking. She runs her hands through her shiny black hair.
She shakes her head and her hair tumbles around her head
like a lion's mane.
And that smell! I swear I smell something, her perfume
or something. It's nice, a little strong, but spicy and
musky and intense. A little like sweat and a little like
sex. She starts pacing again, retracing her steps, crossing
the room in the other direction. "Do you think I have a
nice body, Virginia?" she asks. And she walks along, and
she does a slow turn, turning clear around, showing me her
back, which is bare in that dress, and the tight red dress
clinging to her bottom. She spins clear around, and paces
across the room again, watching me.
"I-I was just r-reading," I stammer, and it's a stammer,
I don't even know why I said it. A dumb thing to say, but I
thought I should say something and I wasn't thinking.
Darlene just laughs, another powerful burst from deep in her
lungs. She stops near the front door, on the landing, and
stands there, facing me. "Do you like my breasts, Virginia?
Do you think I have beautiful breasts?" And she runs her
hands all over her tits, grabbing herself and squeezing and
massaging them. Wow! Her nipples are _really_ hard now.
She just stares at me as she feels herself up. I can't
believe I'm watching this!
She crosses her arms in front of her, each hand on the
opposite shoulder. With her arms crossed like that, she
reminds of an Egyptian sarcophagus. But only for a moment.
She flutters her eyelashes at me, like she's flirting. And
she pushes the straps of her dress over her round shoulders
and pulls the front of her dress down, and pulls her arms
through, and now her breasts are bare. Deeply tanned, huge
dark nipples. Her tits are bigger than grapefruits, and I
find myself salivating at the thought of grapefruit. And
not even an inch of sag. Those are the most gravity-defying
tits I've ever seen. They are incredible!
"I like to touch myself, Virginia," she says, and she
feels her bare tits, squeezing the nipples and making them
stand up obscenely. "It feels so good. Do you do this to
yourself, Virginia? Do you like to touch your breasts?"
I think I nod, but I'm not sure if I really do. I can't
believe what she's doing, squeezing those beautiful big
tits. She licks her fingers and squeezes her nipples with
her slicked up fingers. She grins evilly at me, her eyes
bore into me. And then she pushes her dress down, using
both hands, down over the curve of her hips, rocking her
pelvis back and forth until the dress falls freely to the
floor. She leaves it there like a red puddle, steps out of
it, and takes two steps towards me. She's only wearing her
heels and a tiny red g-string.
And now her scent is really strong. It's so strong it's
distracting, and I catch myself just breathing it in,
smelling it, letting it fill my lungs. She steps out of her
panties, the little stringy thing hangs from one finger, and
she drops it to the floor, and she's naked. She has a
little swirl of black hair between her legs.
"Look at me, Virginia," she said, her voice low and
penetrating. I'm looking, I can't stop looking at her. She
is incredible. I've never seen a woman like her before. I
feel nervous, my nerves are singing, and I feel a trembling
in my belly. I try to breathe in more oxygen, but I just
get a lungful of her odor. My head doesn't feel right. "Do
you want me Virginia? Do I excite you?"
My legs hops up and I grab it, hold it down, but it jumps
again. My head feels light, like I'm hyperventilating. The
room seems to be shimmering. I don't trust my voice, I
should answer her question, but what was the
question?--whoa!--she's right in front of me! Right there, I
didn't even see her come forward, but there she is, not two
feet in front of me, her naked hips right in front of my face,
those cute black pubes just a few feet from my eyes. And she
spins off to the side and sits on the couch, right beside
me, and she leans right up close, her shoulder bumps mine.
She's radiating a strong heat, like an overheated engine.
How did she get so close, right by my side? I'm not feeling
quite right, I feel woozy or something, I can't seem to
concentrate. I shake my head, try to clear the haze.
Darlene laughs, and her laugh is loud and powerful, a
thumping sound that throbs in my ears. "Look at me,
Virginia," she says, I meet her eyes, she's looking down,
and I look down and she swings one leg up over the back of
the couch. Wow! Her pussy is _right there!_ A prominent
mound with just a trace of black hair, thick outer labia,
protruding inner labia, and a gigantic clitoris all swollen
and exposed.
Her clit is amazing, a fat, bulging thing. And that
smell! So strong it stings my nose. "Touch me, Virginia,"
she whispers, it's just a whisper, but her voice fills my
head, resonating in my ears. I don't think I want to, I
don't want to touch a woman that way, but her pussy is
gorgeous, it's really gorgeous, and that clit! She rocks
her hips up and spreads herself apart with both hands. Oh
my God! She's all open and dewy and stinky. And she's
hungry, I can tell she's hungry for me. The urge to kiss
her cunt sweeps over me. I want to kiss it. All I'd have
to do is lean down and put my mouth on her.
I lick my fingers and get them all wet. My heart is
pounding so hard, I can't hear anything but the pounding of
my blood. My hands tremble, I reach out and I touch her
clit, lightly, with two fingers. Darlene groans and rocks
up against my hand, and I stroke it, sliding my slippery
fingers all over the swollen bulb. And she arches her back
up and shouts, and her body jerks spasmodically, hard, a
half dozen or so violent jerks. I don't know how her
luscious stink could possibly be stronger, but it is--oh, my
head! I can't think! I'm about to pass out!
I'm shaking, my whole body is shaking, and Darlene sits
up and grabs my shoulders and pulls me to her. Her body
crushes against mine, she's still jerking with her climax, I
can feel it in her, and she squeezes me with powerful arms
and I the air rushes out of me. Her hands run up my back,
all the way up my back and she's holding my head, and she
leans away a little, I look into her dark, sparkling eyes.
She's beautiful, so unbelievably beautiful, those incredible
black eyes. I turn my head and kiss her, and she laughs
softly into my mouth, her soft lips, her voice vibrating in
my mouth, and the kiss blossoms up, I wrap myself around her
and she's pulling at my robe, opening the front, and her
tongue presses into my mouth and she's pushing my robe off,
off my arms, and she presses her body against mine, and feel
her nakedness and her soft heat against me, against my
breasts and belly.
She struggles with my boxer shorts, yanking at them hard,
pulling me around this way and that. She gets them down
around my knees and I help her kick them off, and now I'm
naked too, and we're kissing again, oh can she kiss! She's
so hungry! Our arms all over each other. Her leg fits
between my legs and she squeezes my nipples hard and Christ
I can't kiss her any more, I can't do it, I'm passing out!
I pull off and she comes after me with her sweet lips, but I
pull away and gasp for air. "Do you love me, Virginia?" her
voice is right in my head. "Tell me you love me." What a
question! I gulp lungfuls of air, but I can't get enough
oxygen, my lungs burn. "Tell me you love me," she growls, a
loud menacing voice that scares me. Is she angry with me?
"I love you I love you I love you," I say, how could I not
love such a woman? And she kisses me, and it's all right,
she's not angry, she sucks my tongue into her mouth, nips it
with her teeth. Her hands on the backs of my legs, stroking
my legs up and down and I want her to touch me, touch my
sex, I stretch my legs and press up against her, and up she
comes, lightly between my legs from behind, and she holds my
ass, pulls me into her--oh!--she touched my anus! She rubs
it with her finger, and I'm embarrassed, but she just stops
kissing me and laughs and tickles my anus some more.
She burrows in and she kisses my neck, kisses my neck,
lips and tongue on my skin, kissing. I love that, I love it
a lot and I tell her, "I love that," her tongue up and
down--oh!--I throw my head back, her tongue up and down my
neck, up and down, her open mouth on my neck, she sucks,
suction and hard kisses and up to my earlobe, sucking, her
tongue fat in my ear, her soft hair on my cheek, and back
down again, she nibbles my neck, lips and teeth, I need her
closer, my love Darlene closer, my hands on her bare back,
her shoulders, I pull her close, feel her hot skin on me,
she is so soft, and she squeezes my breasts--oh!--her thigh
works between my legs, rubbing, rubbing, I can't breathe
hard enough, and I can't get close enough to her, and I'm on
fire, my puss is on fire--
Ow!--ow!--
Jesus, she bit me! Hard! It hurts! But no, it's not
too bad. A love bite, I'll have a hickey, but it stings, it
stings a lot! I grab her head and pull her mouth hard into
my neck. "Again," I whisper, but I can barely hear myself,
just my own hard breath and her hard breath, her tongue
slithers against my neck, into the sting of the bite, I hold
her head, her soft hair in my hands, hold her tight, and her
mouth opens wide, opens onto my neck, pressing hard, lips,
tongue, the tips of her teeth pressing on my neck, my heart
pounds, pounding in my temples, her mouth wide, sucking, her
wet tongue on me, the teeth pressing my neck, pressing,
harder, take me Darlene, don't tease me, "Take me Darlene!"
give me your love--
Ow!--fuck!--oh God, it hurts!
She's in!
Tears in my eyes, Christ, I can't believe how it hurts!
Her teeth inside me.
I can't breath, oh God it hurts so much, I can't believe
how much it hurts, and she sucks, drinking me--oh Christ,
I'm cumming!--oh!--the spasms in my sex, the long liquid
waves, oh God, her teeth move in and out, I'm crying, I
press up into her, the waves go in and out, she sucks deeply
from my neck, my sweet Darlene, I am yours!
She stops! She's gone, the joyous waves still flow
through me and the wet trickle down my neck and I'm filled
with emptiness, I cry out, "Darlene!" and I reach for her, I
can't find her, my eyes won't focus, and the beautiful
climax still flows through me, and now her mouth is on my
arm, I feel her beautiful touch, in the crook of my arm, she
bites into my arm, the beautiful stinging pain. Lord, dear
Lord!
And she stops, licks the blood from my arm, her tongue
bloody red, and she kisses up my arm, nuzzling into my
armpit, I hold her under my wing, her soft hair on my
breasts, tickling my sides, and her teeth are under my arm,
sinking into the flesh under my arm, and I'm cumming again,
stars drift before my eyes, and she stops again, moves to my
breast, sucks my nipple, my lover sucks and pulls with her
lips and tongue, so gentle, I can't breath, I can't catch my
breath--oh God!--my head, my head feels light, and she
kisses down my belly, tickling with her tongue, down, and I
spread my legs wide and she's between my legs and she kisses
me there, I touch my neck and my fingers come away covered
with blood, and her long tongue licks up my sex, her lips on
my clit, pursing, sucking and I'm cumming again, I'm crying,
tears in my eyes, the waves, the arching waves, and Darlene
opens her mouth on my pussy, her mouth wide over me, and her
teeth enter the flesh of me, her mouth is on me, her teeth
tear, she takes me, take me Darlene! She slurps my blood,
the lovely hurt, sucking, drinking deeply, the waves, my
eyes open, but it is dark, it is so dark, she drinks me, the
dark waves, she draws me out, it is so dark, like night,
like a hole, my love takes me in, my Darlene, my dark sweet
Darlene, with black hair and eyes, it is so dark, so dark, I
dream of the night, my Darlene, Darlene in the night, and
darkness, blackness, Darlene, Darlene...
<A HREF="tfv2.html">To Part 2 of "The Fearless Vampire."</A>
Comments? Good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Email me at
poisoniv1@hotmail.com. Or you can find mor estories like this on
my website, http://bounce.to/poisoniv1.