For all the Ohio vamps! - My first time in this genre- hope you like it.
April stirred when the sun set. She rearranged herself in her coffin, shifting impatiently. The fabric of her shroud was twisted around her and she unraveled it with annoyance. These moments between sunset and moonrise were always difficult. She was tired, sleep pulled her back, but as always she felt the growing need to feed. Last night’s meal already diminishing in her belly, its nutrients nearly exhausted. She took a moment to gather her thoughts. Soon it would be time, He would come and it would be alright. Although only a human she trusted him- the only human that she did trust, the only one she would allow so close, so intimate…
She felt a familiar tingling as her thoughts touched on that word. It started between her thighs and spread in waves to fill her belly with fluttering anticipation. Her hunger was growing but so were her needs. She waited impatiently, filling the time with reminiscence.
It had been 25 years now since they had first met. He had then been a young man, a youth really, caught out too late exploring the churchyard. A storm had broken and he had sought shelter in her crypt. Night fell and still the rain poured. She loved the rain; she loved the way it pattered on the carved stone of her slab, the rich moist smells that it brought into the air, the earthy smell of soil, dead leaves and decay. Unaware of his presence she had started to slide her slab to the left as usual, the stone lid grating on the sarcophagus. If he had screamed at the movement she was unaware, the stone ground too loudly upon its pivot, it was only when the first soft rays of moonlight penetrated the darkness of her tomb that she paused to sigh in contentment at the coming release.
That was when she heard him, a whimpering scream that should have been louder but which was frozen to a croak by the spasms of fear in his throat. Instantly she was alert- the air bore to her nostrils the scent of warm flesh, a musky smell she did not recognize, a scent suffused and embellished with that of fresh blood- barely hidden by its fragile sheath of skin. She licked her lips and felt the first movement of her fangs as they prepared to slide downwards in their shafts. She could feel their sharp tips now with her tongue just protruding from her gums. She slid the rest of the tomb slab back in a single motion, its weight as nothing compared with her strength. That was when she had seen him for the first time, frozen immobile half hidden behind a gravestone, staring her way with eyes glazed in fear. Seldom had her meals been so obliging as to come to her! How convenient, she smiled to herself and started to rise. Perhaps it was that wicked smile, perhaps it was the sight of her emerging from the tomb but at that moment something happened. The look of fear changed on the boy’s face, it was replaced with something else, something she didn’t recognize. Perhaps misunderstanding the cause of her own amusement or perhaps because there was nothing else to be done, the boy smiled back, a scared sheepish smile certainly, but one that was nonetheless completely unexpected and which had a strange effect on her.
April had died young. Scarlet fever had dispatched her from this world. She had felt the essence of her life force ebbing as the fever moved relentlessly to win possession of her. She had slipped away sadly, regret for what might have been overwhelmed her and perhaps it was that radiating sadness that had ultimately saved her. A passing vampire troop was attracted by the aura in the village. They witnessed her passing as they flitted in and out of the windows of her sick room. Then, just before death itself could finally close the door on her existence, their leader had taken her, sucking the last few precious drops of life from her body. Drops that were highly prized since they contain the final essence of life itself, essence distilled and concentrated, rendered down to a fine liqueur and carrying within them the sum concentrate of emotion, all the happiness, lust, anger and despair of the life that has yielded them. Aprils had been delicious indeed, but as is their nature the troop had taken them, delighted in them as humans might in a box of chocolates and then simply moved on with no more concern for the body that had treated them than perhaps a human might show for an empty bottle. So it was that her body had died in the first flush of youth, aged just 18, and wrapped in her shroud, her body had been a picture of loveliness as she was buried, A young man who might have one day become her lover had wreathed her forehead in flowers.
April didn’t know whether they had meant to do so, but even as the vampires had enjoyed her final essence they had also imparted their own gift, and thirty days and thirty nights later April had awoken to her new existence. By now the passing troop had moved on and she was alone. Left to find out more about just who and what she was, to find her own way in the world of darkness. This she had done, a few mistakes now and then but always progress. She had adjusted to the easy meals available from livestock, unwilling to parasitize those who had loved her in life. That had been 150 years ago, the dried flowers still lay in her tomb but the villagers, the young man had all passed now. Only she remained, only she still possessed some semblance of the beauty she had radiated so long ago.
The boy looking at her affected her in a way she didn’t fully understand. In the last 150 years no human had seen her, although she had seen a few of them she had conversed with no one and now this unspoken communication was affecting her. It raised questions, feelings that puzzled her. She raised herself to her feet and stepped from her stone sarcophagus, the boy gave a strangled cry, clearly he was terrified, why then did he not run? She approached him slowly the strange musky scent grew stronger as she grew closer. She was curious. He was seated half hidden behind a tombstone, she moved to the right, skirting the stone to get a better view.
There was a flash of lightening, and in that moment she saw the boy’s hand was buried in a tussle of clothing between his legs, she could almost see the wreathe like tendrils of the musk scent that rose from the open crutch of his clothing and his pale fingers still clutched his wilted member that protruded from his thighs. She was fascinated- never in her life had she seen a naked man and this part had been always hidden from her, never spoken of, never seen and never touched. The scent assaulted her nostrils; they flared at it and at the nearness of blood. It was intoxicating, beguiling. She had left this world a virgin, the delight that a man might have taken in her body was never realized, no desire had disturbed her while she lived and she had died without knowing fulfillment, not even suspecting what this might be like. Now something stirred within her, something she did not know and could not control. It was linked to her hunger yet it was not a simple hunger, it was deeper, more complex and infinitely more exciting than a simple blood meal. She moved to the boy and knelt to study this strange thing.
Sheltering in the overhang of the crypt the boy had grown cold and sought to warm and cheer himself in the only way he knew. He looked around cautiously and then fumbled at his fly, undoing the buttons and ribbons to throw open his hose and release his prick. He closed his eyes and began to stroke it, slowly at first but growing in intensity. His steady masturbation had found its rhythm, growing faster longer moving towards the inevitable orgasm when he had heard the stones move. He turned and froze as the slab was clearly sliding open. Roused from the sexual excitement of near orgasm he had been plunged into abject terror but unable either to flee or to look away. He had watched the stone move inexorably aside. Expecting all the while the emergence of some nameless horror. He prayed under his breath “Hail Mary Mother of God…” his recitations getting faster as the stone moved, finally just as the slab fell away, he peed himself. But that was the low point, what happened next would change both his life and in due course his death.
The creature emerging from the tomb was not a hideous monster. The changes that had preserved her had also preserved her beauty. Her taught belly and firm flesh were still taught and firm. The pink flush of youth was gone certainly but the waxen texture of her hardened skin was not unattractive and a good substitute for the toned muscles of her young flesh. Her breasts were well formed at death, now they were firm, almost hard with her rigor. They were tantalizingly visible through the diaphanous material of her shroud; the darker patch of pubic hair was visible between her thighs. He was captivated, overwhelmed by terror, but torn between desire for her beauty and fear from the knowledge of what she most clearly was.
Unlike the boy she was unafraid, and when curiosity finally overcame her she reached out tentatively to touch the timid shrinking flesh between his legs. Her hand was cold, his body convulsed at her touch and she withdrew.
“No, it’s alright”
She returned to his organ, felt its slippery texture, its rippled skin beneath her cool hands and then, to her delight and amazement the throb of warm fresh blood suffusing the organ, pumping, engorging its channels and swelling the tissues. She watched in amazement as the penis in her hand bloated with its blood fill grew warm, increased in size and throbbed in her palm.
Her fangs were instantly down, a crazed look in her eyes; in 150 years she had eschewed human blood out of respect for those who had loved her- but this boy? This boy had never known her and she had never known him, he was nothing to her. His organ was distended with blood, a surfeit, he could spare and she moved to impale the source of his root with her fangs. Why did she hesitate? When she fed from the herd she moved quickly, sinking her teeth into the yielding flesh before the animal could struggle or run. Yet now she was moving slowly, almost hesitantly. The boy made no move. Her lips parted the fangs clearly visible, a moment’s horror on the face of the boy. Then she finally moved and in one firm motion she took his penis into her mouth and sank her fangs into his belly flesh at its root. He screamed in pain and writhed to escape- but his strength was nothing to hers and she held him firm as the blood began to flow. She gulped it down fresh, warm, meaty and delicious… but there was something else in it too. He had been close to orgasm and even as she emerged to freeze him with fear, the first few drops of his seed had been making their way from balls to prick. Now as she sucked greedily at his body’s fluid these few drops of semen pulsed by reflex from his member. They fizzled on her tongue like sherbet and danced on her taste buds. Perhaps this was how human blood should always taste? It was intense. Gradually, almost without realizing it, her feeding changed. Slowly her fangs withdrew, her sucking moved up his shaft which swelled in her mouth, there was still blood but this was no longer the main course. She was sucking more than biting, sliding her head up and down, squeezing his shaft in her hand, trying to coax more of the fizzing delight from his member. She hadn’t noticed the boy’s groans, she wasn’t aware that they had changed from a gasp of horror at her bite to a satisfied grunting as she slipped her tongue up and down his prick and swirled it around the tip. But then he groaned out loud, his hands flew to her head and forced her down his shaft and he began to disgorge mouthful after mouthful of this delightful sweet nectar into her mouth. She was overcome with the surprise, the flavor and the quantity. She swallowed gargled and dribbled the white frothy delight, swirling her tongue around his penis sucking and gulping down as much as she could extract. squeezing, sucking seeking more of his fizzing gurgling seed.
After a while the flow stopped, she felt tired, spent, the boy moaned. She pulled away from his penis and looked at him, this time they both smiled.
That first night had been over 25 years ago now. Over the years they had formed a bond of trust and care, they knew each other well. True her flesh was cold, but it was beautiful and he had explored every inch of her body, plunging his penis into her, sliding past long dead kidneys, parting her semi rigid flesh and opening her cold contracted passages with his warm blood-gorged organ. She in turn relished the gloopy flood of warm semen inside her, whether in her cunt or her throat it was always a delight. He had learned to bring her to the orgasms she had never had whilst alive, the rigidity of her body making her whole frame shake with the tremors in her cunt as she came.
Afterwards in the post coital glow, he would feed her, opening the wound on his shoulder so that she could suck. Over the years his blood had grown thick just as he had grown middle-aged. She of course was unchanged. If his friends and neighbors ever wondered why he had never married then he never mentioned it to her. It seemed that she was enough and that thought made her happy. In time, when death too came for him she would, he knew; free her as she too was free. They would lie together in this churchyard, an eternity of sex and blood.