Guinevere Carling was lost in the pounding music, the throbbing beats as steady as the slow strokes of the cock currently buried in her. Her fingers flicked her clit along with each off-beat. The twang of the guitar accompanied the shuddering of her pussy. The lyrics were as dirty (and more clever) as the words coming from the mouth of the man gripping her ass from behind. It made this man (if you could call the barely legal, completely thrilled with his luck, virgin behind her a man) bearable, the music.
As his harsh grip clamped down on her like a vice and his body stiffened like a board, she knew he was about to come. Guinevere let loose a string of words that sounded like a myriad of voices sounding upon each other. It would have terrified the man had the music not drowned it out. Instead, he let loose a bellow and emptied himself within her greedy pussy. Her body absorbed his essence, the power she stole from him more intoxicating than the momentary pleasure he gave her.
When he collapsed upon her, she shoved his sweaty body off onto the floor where he landed, completely oblivious. She stood up and stretched her muscles, enjoying the sensation of a perpetually youthful body. The magic was great, the spell beyond her own abilities. If it were not for Moira, she would never have even thought to attempt such an act. But her friend had taught her, nurtured her, until she had finally managed to steal the life essence of her first man. The power had nearly overwhelmed her. When she came down from the high, Guinevere saw with amazement that her wrinkling skin had smoothed down and her sagging curves tightened.
Now, Moira and Guinevere stalked the world for youth the way a vampire hunted for blood. They took what they wanted and left the husk of men behind; living, but incapable of assuring the immortality of mortals.
Guinevere left behind yet another husk, panting to survive his little death. Scattered here and there throughout the party were men left in exactly the same manner. She wondered, as she searched for her next victim, how her friend was faring. The whole point of this night was for Moira. It was her birthday, and Guinevere knew that Moira loved nothing more than to corrupt the innocent as she stole their most precious possession.
Hands reached out to caress and touch Guinevere as she walked through the frat party turned orgy. A man slipped a finger between the lips of her pussy. A woman rubbed her full breasts against her back as she passed by. Her ass was pinched, her nipples twisted. Engorged cocks were thrust in her direction with hopes that she would take advantage of them. Yet Guinevere ignored it all with haughty distain.
Ignored it all, that is, until she saw the perfect specimen of masculine beauty. He was lounging on a couch with the glazed look of a man truly bored, though there were two women diligently sucking on the thick piece of meat that thrust up through his open slacks. Guinevere's mouth watered as she watched feminine lips running up and down the man's cock. One of the women attempted to swallow the entirety of what had to be at least ten inches, but she couldn't even take half. A hand attempted to circle the girth, but fell well short.
