Vampires Suck

I've been working on this vampire story for a while. I am not sure what to do with it. If it is hot or gross or what. This vampire thing is so prevalent now that I don't know if I am being original or annoying. I would appreciate any and all advice on where to take it. If you like what is developing. If its fine as it is. If I should just go back to the drawing board. Any title ideas would be helpful too.

VAMPIRE (blood)
Copyright © 2009 by Crystal Barela

That vampire book makes it sound so easy. Abstaining from human blood. Living on the blood of animals. Tofu instead of prime rib. Let’s all be friends.

It’s romantic bullshit.

Sucking blood is not just about survival. Yes, I would die without it. A slow agonizing death that is really too painful to contemplate. So let’s not. Instead let me tell you why the girl lies beneath me.

The addiction is not too the blood. All of my dreams take place in the daylight. That’s why the girls are always blond and tan.

I do not sparkle in the sunshine and take offense to the idea that something is self serving and dangerous as a vampire would.

Golden hair as fair as a newborn’s is my addiction. Eyes more blue than a summer sky. Skin, tan from what I imagined were days lying on a bed of white sand in nothing more than two bits of fabric caressing her most intimate of intimates. To be with her would be like stepping into sunshine for the first time in over 200 years.

I had first seen this one weeks ago. She had been on the beach after dark. Her friends left her alone with a book and a flashlight. The wind had whipped her hair across her face and it caught in her lips. She pushed the strands away impatiently her eyes never leaving the book, and wet the pink skin with her tongue.

“Must be good,” I said. She startled and I caught the fumbled flashlight. Her heartbeat fluttered.

“Jane Eyre?” I asked catching the title in the swing of the light.

“What?”

“Your book, it’s a favorite of mine,” I said, handing her the flashlight.

“That’s funny,” she said, standing. She wiped her backside with her hands dispersing bits of sand and then bent to pick up her towel. Her hips wide and graceful. “I didn’t think guys like Jane Eyre.”

“Well, I’m not every guy,” I said. Then I quoted a line from page 212 and I could see the sunrise dawn in her cheeks and the frightened look in her eyes vanish.

I hate to say it, but humans are all too predictable.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” I asked, gesturing in the direction of the parking lot. And that was how it begun. My love affair with the girl. I left her at her car with the question of will you be here tomorrow in the air and her eyes telling me she wanted me to be.

Her name was Charlene. I came the following day just as she was beginning to doubt my existence. Again her friends were gone, having tired of waiting for the mystery man to appear.
I sat beside her this time, in the soft sand and when she shivered I offered her my arm around her shoulders. We talked of literature. She was earning her bachelors in the written word. I asked her to bring some of her writing the next time we saw each other. She was modest, but I could tell she was happy I had asked.

Our lips met and I could taste the sun on hers. Did she taste the night on mine? I breathed her in, letting the daylight that still clung to her hair invade my nostrils. I wanted to crush her into the sand and suck the light from her, but I was controlled and sweet and kissed her as if it were my first time.

The next day I arrived and she had her stories held to her chest like private secrets. She whispered the words to me breathlessly and it was she who kissed me. She who pressed her heaving bosom to my chest. I lowered her gently to the earth and kissed without air. Making her lightheaded. I lay my leg across her thigh and she wanted more of me than I would give.

And so each night followed and every time it was I who called are kisses to a halt.

The anticipation of taking her was worth feeding on a deer or two.

Now we were in the wood outside of town and the pine needles were fragrant with the disturbance of our movements as I fucked her into the soil. There was no love or romance in either of our movements. The time for that had passed.

Charlene was overcome with her want for me. She was blond and plump, her succulent flesh near bursting with the rushing blood beneath her skin. Her insides were tight and hot.

I brought my hand between us and began to work her clit with my thumb. She was moaning and nearing her orgasm. Yes, I like to play with my food. There was no reason she should not find pleasure in the last minutes of her life.

The heels of her feet pressed into my backside, urging me deeper. I obliged roughly and her insides squeezed my staff in approval as she came. I pressed my body flush to hers and trailed several soft nips along the length of her neck. The scent of her racing blood overwhelmed me. I opened my mouth wide and sunk my teeth into her neck. Her pussy convulsed around my hardness.

Blood raced into my mouth thick and sweet and flavored with her pleasure. There was no blood better than that of your prey’s in the midst of their release. It warmed my insides and I began to feel human. For a moment the hot liquid coursed through my veins and again I was a man. Again, I could feel the fragility of this shell that is my body. Was my body. I could feel color beneath my skin.

Charlene was moaning as I nibbled my way to her full ripe breasts. I sucked the flesh into my mouth, tasting the sweeter blood that welled here. Her hands were in my hair, twisting the strands and for a moment I swear I could feel it. The pain of hot hard sex.

The girl came again and my body human for this brief moment in the millennia that was time, came, shot cold wet seed into the hot cavity of her sex.

She laughed, not having realized that I was pulling my cock free so that I could drain her body of its heat. Her hands pushed at my head, urging my face lower and I happily obliged. I pushed her thighs apart with my shoulders and sucked her swollen clit between my lips. Her hips lifted, her body elongated in the moonlight and I sunk my teeth into her inner thigh.

Blood poured down my throat. I was no longer neat. Blood spurt in every direction bathing us black in the moonlight. Her screams filled the night air as she continued to come. Her eyes were open and I could see myself, not human at all, but covered in blood, my fangs the only white in the darkness. Then she was still and as pale as I had been and I was warm like the sun.