From above, the spectacle is hugely gratifying. People moving like busy ants, filling every street, snaking between cars jammed on the roads, such a pleasure to look at! The smell of pollution hangs thickly in the air, as does that of the countless layers of fake scent that people feel the need to wear.

I await on top of an old decrepit building, eyeing those people like a hawk, for indeed I am a hawk amidst scuttling mice. The thought makes me laugh. I am in a good mood at the moment. Probably from the blood roaring through my brain. Every smell is more defined, every sound is a thunderclap in my ears, the smallest insect crawling on a wall is a graffiti sprayed over my eyes.

The rest of my dinner lies discarded behind me. I can still taste it on my tongue. I run my tongue over my still wet lips and moan contentedly. I get up and stretch. It’s time to go hunting again. I barely spare a glance at the ruined body on the cold roof. He was a man in his mid-thirties who exercised regularly but smoked from time to time; his blood was that mush tastier.

Yeah, I just said his blood. What, I didn’t tell you? So silly from my part… I’m a vampire. Uh-uh, that’s right, a bloodsucker. No shit, I ain’t kidding. You still don’t believe me? Look at these. Aren’t they a little big for a normal mouth? Fake teeth? Don’t make me laugh! Those were outdated, like, last millennia! Okay, you need more proof, I can understand. Wait here.

There, see that homeless dude? Watch. No, I can’t fly but I can jump. *comes back after a minute* Stop struggling, you’ll mess my clothes! A’right, you forced my hand… *this part has been censored due to extreme violence and gore* There, you happy? What, you scared now? Oh, it’s the blood… I told him he’d mess my clothes. Well anyway, you believe me now? Oh, you do. Good. Where was I? Yeah, the roof…

The sounds of heavy bass and a guitar solo draw my ears. A rock concert, how charming. And I was getting a little hungry. The fall to the ground floor would kill any man, but then, I am not a man. I barely grunt as my knees bend when I land. I come out of the alley without a care. Let the cops find the two bodies. If they can…

The concert has been going strong for almost an hour when I reach it. An old warehouse, rearranged to house parties and shows like this one. Probably full of wannabe goths and punkers. God, I hate those, they’re so wrong. I shake my head as I walk through the door. What do you mean I can’t go in uninvited? Oh, you saw it in Buffy the fucking Vampire Slayer, so it must be true, that’s what you’re telling me?

*sigh* Forget all you know about vamps. All those books and movies do have something resembling truth in it but they are mostly inaccurate. We can’t fly, we can’t make other vamps just by biting someone, we don’t turn to cinders in the sun, we don’t turn into bats at night to hunt, we don’t dress in black, we don’t fear crosses or bibles. Christopher Pike was probably the closest who came to what we really are.

We can jump very high or fall from great distances without a scratch. We do drink blood, not on a regular basis –there are just so many homeless- but we are quite fond of it. Yeah, it sustains us, blah, blah, blah, crap. We just drink it for fun, it’s like a good wine. We can go a long time without drinking it, but the thirst becomes quite overwhelming at times. We can eat garlic, drink blessed water, walk across running water, reproduce… *wriggles eyebrow* yeah, that way, you pig. But there’s a catch. We can only have kids with other vamps. With an ordinary human, we’re like sterile.

Vampirism is a curse. It’s a disease. It’s a boon. It’s beyond your wildest… no, that won’t do. It’s fucking great is what it is! Yeah, it’s all that. You live forever but sometimes, you wish you were dead. Trust me, I know. Well, back to the story. What about the blood on my clothes, you tell me? This is a concert, I can pretend I dropped a pitcher of syrup on my shirt and I’ll strut in like I’m the shit.

Back to the hunt. The smell of alcohol is heavy in the air. Underage kids are already passed out on the floor and are almost getting trampled on by the hysteric crowd. Black leather and white makeup prevail in the sea of people. I search for the source of all beers, hoping to snag a pretty one on my way.

The bartender looks like a Drill Sarge with his huge biceps and his haircut. He barely spares me a glance but serves me an ice cold one seconds after I call him. Yeah, being a bloodsucking fiend has its advantages. You could say I exude an aura. It varies according to the people around me. Men see me as a pretty average looking fellow, but one you would not want to mess with. They unconsciously avert their gaze and are uneasy around me.

For women, it’s another thing. They sense this magnetism that pulls them despite themselves. I get more that a handful of stares as I sip my Bud. Twenty minutes after I buy my drink, I have already been accosted by half a dozen girls waiting to be fucked and even a couple of men. It’s all quite flattering but I do have my standards.

I hear a voice order a Bud. The voice is sensuous, almost sultry as the bartender hands over the thing. I am intrigued. It cannot be one of those underage anorexic bunnies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a sparkling black dress sitting on a stool. The bar is the only place worth visiting in this warehouse. The stage is quite far away so the buzz of conversation is audible despite the amplified wails that the singer seems to like so much.

The woman pays me no attention as she sips her beer coolly. I wait and watch. A burly man sits beside her, flashing his Rolex as he hands the bartender a five hundred bill. Gold chains on his arms, gold necklace, gold earrings, a regular pimp with too much to spend.

He tries to fire her up but fails miserably. The woman continues sipping with not a care in the world. He insists, even proposing her money for some time with him. An uncultured swine. She gives him the cold shoulder and a slap. His eyes widen in shock, then outrage and his hand closes into a fist. He raises it and brings it down.

In an instant, I am on my feet. The beefy hand is twice as big as mine but two fingers suffice to block it. He struggles, trying to force me aside but a head butt changes his mind and he staggers to the nearest restroom, holding his shattered nose in one hand. The bartender nods approvingly and I return the gesture. I turn to the woman and get my first good look at her.

She is splendid. Long legs, black knee-high leather boots, a black dress sparkling with black studs, cut low on the cleavage and high on the legs. The hem is maybe four inches below her slender waist. As my eyes travel up, I see what appears to be a C-cup fitted snuggly in the black velvety material. Her face is charming. Green eyes, probably contacts. Defined cheekbones. Full lips, so red, so full of blood. A touch of the delicious liquid touches her cheeks as she murmurs a thank you.

“My pleasure. I dislike seeing women getting bashed.”

“Would you like a drink, as thanks?”

“I already have one,” I say, nodding to my unfinished beer. I have to set the hook firmly before I haul the catch. “But you can grant me a dance.”

She laughs and I mentally approve my choice. She starts a conversation as we drink.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t look at me twice since I sat down.”

“Funny, I noticed the same thing.”

She smiles suggestively. “I like men who do not seem to care.”

“Do I seem not to care?”

“Maybe you do.” There is a twinkle in her eyes as she says that.

I finish my beer just as she does hers and I stand up, offering my hand. She smiles, takes it, gets up and follows me to the dance floor. Dance floor is a wrong word. These people do not dance; they jump around like crazy, trying to squash their bodies together. It is kind of fun, if you have a busty babe grinding herself into you with every move.

She tosses her jet black hair around as she wipes her head as crazily as everyone around her. The band starts a tune that doesn’t seems like fingernails scratching a board and I start jumping too. Soon after, as our bodies get heated and closer, she presses her ass into my crotch and squeezes my left butt cheek. I know I have her, now. Her name is Rina and she wants to go someplace more private.

I take her to my apartment. On the way, she clings to my arm, giggling like a drunken schoolgirl. We stagger inside and her mouth is on mine as soon as the door is closed. My coat drops to the floor in no time and her tongue explores the confines of my mouth.

She pulls back and giggles once more. Her cheeks flare beautifully and I have to restrain myself not to bite her right now. She darts away as I try to snag her arm. She saunters to the bedroom and drops on the bed in a seductive pose. I smile appreciatively. She slowly lowers the straps holding her loose dress over her bare shoulders and slides them down her arms, moving slowly and so sexily.

Her milky breasts burst free as soon as the cloth is down to her navel. She shows off her navel ring, a single metal loop with a jade stone. The dress finds its way to the floor and she remains clad in her panties and her boots. I reach for my buttons and slowly undo them, slipping my shirt off my chiseled body. Interest sparks in her eyes as she studies the hard sinews under my skin.

My black pants are next. I unbuckle my belt and let them slide to the floor of their own accord, then step out of them. My dick is already tenting my boxers. It aches for release but I have something else to do right now. She spreads her legs as I move my lips to her pussy. A gentle kiss on the fabric than I kiss her mouth with all the passion in me. She nibbles on my lower lip as my hands cup her titties. A moan escapes her as I massage them gently.

My tongue touches hers and we dance a ballet of love in our mouths, exchanging saliva like two sex-crazed teens. I pull back and latch onto a breast. The skin is so smooth, I cannot resist. A sharp cry tells me I have bitten a little hard. No matter. As I suck some of her blood, she moans in the pleasure that pain gives. My tongue swirls around the nipple, licking it and sucking on it. I kiss her again and she tastes her own blood.

I take off her panties and the scent of her womanhood assaults my nostrils. My cock twitches in its confines. I drop my head to her legs and proceed to please her. She moans and bucks as my tongue does the movement I have practiced so long. She almost comes as she grinds my face into her cunny with her hands. I pull back just in time to avoid her orgasm. She pouts but quickly smiles when I lower my boxers.

My dick is not that big but, what with science, it has grown to a decent eight inches long and half again an inch wide. I pump it a few times and a bead of precum oozes out of the slit. Her full lips part as I guide it into a waiting hole.

I moan as her tongue licks my dickhead. The tiny piercing on her organ brings me pleasure like I have rarely known. She moves up and down my shaft, taking it fully into her mouth and throat. She sucks it enthusiastically and I moan all the while. After studying Tantric arts and the Kama Sutra in depth, I have become something of an expert on holding back my ejaculation. She has been sucking me for a good fifteen minutes before I gently tug on her hair and pull myself out. She looks disappointed but a quick kiss on the lips calms her.

Her tongue meets mine briefly as we embrace and fall on the bed. She spreads her legs as I place my dickhead at the entrance of her warm pussy. I tease her a little, rubbing it all over her lips, parting them with my fingers and rubbing myself along her slit. She lets out an exasperated groan and tries to force me inside her. I laugh as I plunge fully into her glory hole.

The feeling is great. I moan as her tightness slowly convulses around my length. She squeezes me through her inner muscles and smiles as I try to pull back. She laughs as I half-heartedly try to escape her clutches. I lean over and bite her right breast. She squeals as blood flows to my mouth again. My mind swoons and it is all I can do to resist draining her dry.

I retreat and thrust inside her mechanically at first, getting the engine started. She warms up and I become more forceful. I push her up the mattress with every thrust, pressing down and forward. She wraps her slender legs around my waist and moans every time I am in her. I use my not inconsequential strength to lift her up, legs still around my waist, and carry her to the wall.

There, I press her back against the cold white paint and proceed to hump her with almost inhuman speed. Being a vampire has many advantages. As I pound her already sore cunt, she orgasms, sending juices running down my legs and hers, wetting the wall behind her. I still do not stop and continue my relentless assault. She has another one right after the first. She hangs on to dear life as I slam her back into the wall. She will be sore if she survives the night.

As she climaxes, I let myself go, emptying my balls into her womb. As the throes of a toe-curling orgasm hits her, she arches her back, presenting me her delicious neck. I bite her and she squeezes me in a muffled scream. The blood flows form the tiny wounds in her flesh and I suck greedily. She begins to release my body as she grows steadily limper. I enjoy biting them beautiful gals while they’re in immense pleasure. It makes their blood rush to their head and the added adrenaline is exquisite. I let go of the corpse’s neck. Her head hangs loosely at her side. Her body is still warm and I am still hard. I thrust inside her for good measure and withdraw. She slides to the floor, joining what little blood I could not drink and the puddle of our secretions.

I wipe myself on her clothes and throw them at her side. My recent activities have energised me. I am positively humming with power. I dress more appropriately, a clean shirt and slacks. The night is still young and I can hunt during the day I must. I stuff the body in a large black bag and cram it into my trash. The blood I wipe with some regret. The girl is no longer on my mind. There will be others, prettier than her and more experienced. If they are good enough, I will let them live.

I take the trash upstairs, on the roof. After a few bounces, I am well away from the crime scene. I dump the body in a heap of junk on a highway. Another victim of a sex crazed wacko. The police will let it go as soon as they see they have no proof. As I head back to my apartment, I pick up a peculiar smell. I stop and smile. Glancing down, I see a couple of teenagers getting it on behind a couple of bushes. I drop down and observe them.

Voyeurism is nice from time to time and I wait until they are finished. The boy hastily puts his clothes back on and vanishes. The girl looks at him with disgust and tries to find her clothes. I can hear her weeping. I emerge from my cover and walk towards her. She might need comforting and the night is still so young…

 

 

One day Erica came by, she asked if I could get away for the night. She said she had something to show me, and that I couldn’t pass this up. It took some doing, but I managed to talk my mom into letting me stay the night at Erica’s (at least that’s what we told her)

.

We got on our bikes and headed off down the trail through the woods toward Erica’s house. Erica had been acting differently for the last week or so. She seemed happier, more confident, more secretive, and I was Interested in finding out which guy was at the bottom of it.

About halfway down the trail Erica stopped and got off her bike. When I pulled up next to her she said, "Let’s take a detour." Then she turned off the trail and walked her bike off through the trees.

"Where are we going?" I asked when I caught up to her.

In response she raised her right hand out flat and paused for a moment and concentrated. After a couple of seconds her hand started to glow slightly and then a match size flame came up from the center of her palm and hovered about an inch above her hand. She looked at me and smiled.

"I’ve been learning." She said.

I was so startled I almost wet myself.

"How?!" I asked.

Erica motioned off into the woods and said, "SHE taught me. She’s taught me many things. And she wants to meet you, if you’re willing. Trust me; she could answer your prayers in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine."

"Exactly who is SHE?" I asked.

Erica held up the flame again and winked. "SHE, as I said, is the answer to your prayers. Think about it Tara, Magic, like we’ve always dreamed of. There’s more, so much more."

"But, aren’t we headed toward the old willow?" I asked.

"That’s where she lives, in a manner of speaking". She said. "Trust me. I’ve been going there for years. It’s not what all the old stories say it is. However, all those old legends keep people away, so it’s a nice private, secret place."

"So, what’s she like?" I asked.

"She’s very old," Erica said "and very beautiful. She’s very warm and loving and wise. However, I must tell you, she’s so unlike anything you could possibly expect that your first meeting will be scary. Mind-bendingly terrifying in fact."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I was beginning to get worried.

"In order for you to learn to use magic, she first has to make it so that you can channel magic, and THAT doesn’t feel good at all, at first." She said.

"What; what does she have to do to you?" I asked.

"Don’t worry about it. It’ll happen or it won’t. Listen, do you want to always be the same person you’ve always been, or do you want to become something more."

I thought in silence for a while. Magic, what I’ve always dreamed of, but what would I have to do for it? Something about Erica’s tone made me a bit nervous. I thought about how boring my life was and the possibility of something different.

"Lead on." I said, and we continued our walk.

The old willow tree. There are old stories and legends about that place, about how it used to be used by the witches for their ceremonies and sacrifices a couple of hundred years ago. They say that the spot is haunted to this day and that when people go there, bad things happen to them. I was nervous about going but Erica had said that she had been going there for years so I trusted her.

The old willow tree was about two miles off the main trail, but apparently Erica’s coming and going had kept a visible trail for us to use. After awhile we came to the clearing where the willow stood. I was astonished. The thing was HUGE, and it was beautiful. It must have been thousands of years old. The clearing itself was idyllic, almost perfectly circular with the willow in the center and a cool clear stream running through, near the outer roots. We walked our bikes in and parked them under the tree. Erica took off her shoes and socks and went wading in the water.