My name is Evan, and I'll be up front with whoever's reading this, this is a post about how I got to fuck a vampire.
Yeah you read that right, a vampire. They exist, and they have for several hundreds, if not thousands of years. From what I've gleamed from the one I'm with Minnie, she's been sired since 1811. Came from a nice quaint town in Ohio. She was a lovely colonial maiden, helping mom and pop with the general store, eating cornmeal and other preserved foods, other colonial stuff until getting abducted by a group of British men.
The British men turned out to be businessmen who made a deal with a blood god for wealth and power. They needed a virgin to sacrifice to said blood god, so they wouldn't be killed for not finding a virgin for the blood god. Even back then those British asswipes couldn't get it together.
Luckily for Minnie, and unluckily for the Limeys, the ceremony failed because Minnie wasn't exactly unknown to the touch of a man.
She wasn't spreading her legs for every Nathanial, George and Tomas, but she did enjoy some outer course. She gave handjobs to all of her suitors, and once a blowjob to a very handsome Frenchman who was passing through her town. She made sure to get hers too, a lot of fingering and suckling of teats, one boy who loved to eat her out. Minnie knew what sin was.
The ceremony failed, and all 7 seven of the fuckers got blown up for failing to get a virgin. Like balloons bursting as Minnie recalled. The Blood God spared her, in a sense, because while he didn't have his sacrifice, he was still a horny fucker and had his way with her. She didn't die afterwards though, unlike the others. After he was finished, he left her living with a need to drink blood, enhanced strength and durability, agelessness, and the ability to float. It also left her distinctly thrown out of her town for being a witch, and she's been roaming the continental United States, along with parts of Europe ever since.
So how did I meet Minnie?
Well some history on myself first. I'm a guy who's been through a tour in Iraq, and some low level PTSD from clean and not so clean kills. After the usual homecoming bullshit and milling around my hometown along with getting easy lays (I was the only soldier actually deployed in my town, almost six foot and vaguely white, the odds were stacked towards me) and getting sloppy drunk every night, I decided to make a change and head over to the West Coast.
One airline ticket and tearful goodbyes, I landed in Los Angeles. City of Angels, celebrities and junkies. I was at a place I could call home.
I was bouncing for some high end club and walking home when I heard the sounds of unmistakable violence. Normally I just shrug it off, but as soon as I heard a woman shout out, I had to investigate. I knew to stay away when I heard men fighting each other, but as soon as women were involved, I knew something else was going on and I had to jump in. It almost got me killed twice in Iraq, but I wasn't going to let some insurgents or random contractor fucks trying to get their dick wet at the cost of a woman's dignity, rules of engagement be damned.
I ran towards where I thought shit was going down, the alleyway behind some abandoned restaurant. Now I will describe what I see as best as I can. There were four people there, or what I assume were people at first. One bald white dude was on the ground, in a suit bleeding from his neck. However, he didn't have eyes and his mouth was sewn shut. Another guy, this time black but with some hair was slumped against the wall, again with the whole empty eye socket thing, but having no mouth at all. Straight skin, like that scene in the matrix where Neo's mouth gets erased by the agents. Nww the the difference here was there a massive gaping hole where his heart should've been.
Now the last two people were struggling against each other; in the dingy night light I could make out a mohawked Asian man with a huge knife attempting an overhand stab on the other figure. The other figure was a woman in a short skirt and crop top, purple and blonde hair. There was blood over her, ostensibly from the two dead weirdos. She had one hand on the guy's wrist holding the knife, the other on his throat, her legs pressing against his chest, trying to stop him from stabbing her.
I didn't know the fuck was going on, but I acted. I yelled stop. Now I really don't know what I was thinking yelling that, because in life or death situations, you kinda lose the ability to hear sometimes. So I yelled again, and after that didn't get any response, I ran forward, and forward kicked mohawk dude onto the ground.
I froze for a second looking at him closer in the street light. He was heavily tattooed, his mouth was missing just like the black guy, but instead of missing eyes, his sockets had bluish-purple flames coming out of them. He quickly got up, and hissed at me.
"I don't know what's going on here," I said, unzipping my black hoodie prepping for a scrap, "But leave now. Before you end up like your other guys behind me." I didn't do shit to those guys, but I had to press like I was something fierce to the demon like man in front of me.
And appropriately he laughed, hissing again at me.
"You should leave," he said in a gravely voice that echoed in my soul, "before you end up without a spine."
My dick shrunk when he finished that sentence. I was more scared in my entire life then anything I had experienced in Basra. But I kept on.
"Alright bro, come on let's go."
I raised my fists up in a fighting stance.
Mohawk Asian strode over to me, his knife held low. I could tell he thought I was easy pickings, and in hindsight maybe I was. But for all he knew, I only had my fists and dumb bravado to fight him.
He didn't know the 12+ plus years of martial arts training, including boxing, wrestling, MMA and knife fighting I had. He didn't know the daily pressures I faced in Iraq, going house to house with death around every corner. He didn't know the time I tried to hang myself in my room when I got back to America. He didn't know I thought I was already dead.
He also wasn't aware of the Smith & Wesson 38/44 revolver in in my shoulder holster, nor the Glock 26 in the small of my back.
I drew the revolver and popped off two rounds in his chest, then another in his head. Mozambique was my middle name. The 38 special rounds I had were hot-loaded, with higher pressures than some .44 magnum loadings. This guy felt it, because he stumbled for a bit, before the fires went out from his eye sockets, and he tumbled forward onto the ground.
I thought he was dead, until he raised his head up once more a brief flash of light coming from his eye sockets, before they went out again as I lit off the rest of the cylinder into his head, blowing off the top half of his skull. The mohawk was miraculously preserved and landed on the side of his body.
Like clockwork I reloaded the gun, pushing the cylinder release, slapping the ejector rod, and aligning the speedloader with the empty chambers. I briefly looked around checking for anyone standing before I cautiously stepped towards half-head and gave his body a couple kicks. No movement. Whatever he was, he wasn't anymore.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in, and I looked around for the girl.
She was slumped against the dumpster, holding her right side, and weakly breathing. I came to her, holstering my piece.
"Hey girl, you okay? Where you bleeding from," I asked, observing her more closely. She was quite pretty, even with the blood around her mouth and in streaks on her chest.
SHe mumbled quietly, her free hand tapping on my shoulder.
I leaned in closer to get hear what she was saying, before I felt sharp needles in my neck.
The girl was biting me, and before I knew it I was on the alleyway ground with my arms pressed down, the girl straddling me as she bit into my neck. I could tell she was sucking my neck, which meant she was drinking my blood. Before I passed out I thought about the all ways I was going to die through my life, but being drained to death by an vampire alt-girl wasn't one of them.
Shit.
-
But I didn't die. In fact I lived.
I woke up completely flabbergasted at my surroundings. I was just on the ground behind an abandoned chinese restaurant, getting the life sucked out of me by a vampire which I had saved from a guy with fire in his eye sockets and no mouth, and now I was in a bed. A very clean and white bed.
From the looks of it, it was a swanky hotel room, with a cocktail table to the right of me in the corner, and a fancy loveseat couch to the left. An empty doorway soon became filled with the alt girl again, this time clean. She was fucking beautiful.
I got a better look at her this time. She was about 5'6, pale skin. She was notably flat chested, but her ass was fuller than what her frame should've supported. Her eyes were green, and her hair was down to her shoulder, blonde with heavy streaks of purple and blue running through it. The left side was shaved, and there was a tattoo of some circle that I couldn't quite make out from the distance. She was wearing a black kimono, but I could tell she was naked underneath.
"Aren't you going to say hello?" she said in a bouncy voice, slinking towards me.
I could only studder as she floated above me, fuckign FLOATED and pulled the blanket covering me off and then levitated down onto my crouch. As soon as she touched my lap, I realized I was naked, and that my cock was resting against her warm pussy.
I sucked in a breath as I started to harden.
"No hellos for me," she whined as she leaned forward, her kimono getting undone. I peeked down and saw that her nipples were pierced, and another tattoo, this one like a bird was just above her navel.
"That's not nice," she said, her arms resting on my shoulders. She pouted and ground herself against my hardness.
"H-Hi," I finally said, gripping the covers tightly. She was wet, and so warm against me. I was getting harder despite everything.
"Finally he speaks!" She giggled, her left hand playing with my short cropped hair.
"Am I dead or a vampire or whatever the fuck you are," I spat out as soon as I could think.
She laughed, and stopped playing with my hair, reaching down to touch the side of my neck she bit into.
"No, you're not dead Evan. You're alive. And in fact very lucky to be alive." she said, intently staring into my eyes.
"How did you know my name?"
"It was in your wallet. Plus, I had you looked up while I was bringing you here."
"What the hell did I get myself into?"
She giggled again, still grinding herself into me. She moaned softly and her free hand traced it way down from my chest, past my belly and to mingling parts.
"You saved me, from a Herald of Agni." she said, her eyes shut. Going from the motion of her arm, I figured she was rubbing her clit as she continued to grind against me.
"I took care of the two disciples, but those Hearlds are tricky. Luckily you helped me out with that one darling. If you didn't stop him from stabbing me with the leaf, I would be a very dead girl right now," she had undone her kimono now, exposing her self fully to me.
The bird on her chest was a common nighthawk, nocturnal things. My uncle the birdwatcher told me about them.
