The early 1800s...
This time, I settled in Paris, adopting the French derivative of my name — Vincent. With its dense population, narrow streets, and dark crevices, Paris suited my needs perfectly, allowing one such as myself a myriad of places to lurk during these unsettled times.
I had grown bored of occupying my time with philosophy and the arts of the Renaissance centuries before. And being what I was, proper affections for ladies could not last long. Would you fall in love if you knew your time with her could only end unnaturally? It was never long before she would notice that your face never wrinkled; your hair never grayed. Questions would arise, and then, sadly, I would be forced to take my leave.
To keep my life uncomplicated, I turned my attention to the fleshy indulgences of the many prostitutes of Paris. I had discovered something to rival my thirst for blood — a thirst for sex. Yes, sex was moderately successful at distracting me from my other craving. And as someone who had all the time in the world, I learned to take my time with this indulgence, too – as tonight's prostitute would soon see. Smiling smugly to myself, I imagined my night’s activities, planning how I would draw out her pleasure in an almost painful manner. For I had discovered a woman's body has a plethora of erogenous zones and I intended to educate her on each.
Indeed, the prostitutes served me exceedingly well in satisfying my lust. They were easy to spot, for they tried to imitate the upper-middle-class, yet fell short with their dirty white muslins and cheap silks. Also missing were their bonnets and shawls, which put their made-up faces and décolletage on full display. Typically, their hair hung loose. After all, their purpose was to incite arousal in men.
The best brothels were those catering to the elite. I had made a private little study, and on this particular night I sought out one particular brothel that I knew of. On entering I was immediately surrounded by a gaggle of lascivious prostitutes seeking my attention. My scent unknowingly drew them towards me, leaving the other gentlemen waiting in frustration for the leftovers. I carefully selected a particularly pretty tart that caught my eye and accompanied her to her room. Such a lovely young thing! Her hair was light brown and cascaded in loose waves around her creamy shoulders. She approached me at once, keenly working to open my breeches. Patience, my darling, I thought, with a wry smile. My hands gently pulled hers away and I brought each in turn to my lips. Her blue eyes widened in surprise at my gesture.
I leaned down and kissed her neck with the lightest of brushes. This was the moment of greatest self-control — to resist that pulsing vein in her neck. The smell of her fresh young blood burned my nose. Even the cheap perfume that filled the room couldn't mask the scent of the hot, bewitching liquid softly glugging through her body. Straining somewhat, I tore my attention from my blood-thirst and my kisses moved away from her neck to her red-painted lips. She returned my kisses with fervor. None yet could resist my hypnotic essence.
My cock strained impatiently against my breeches as our kissing intensified. She tilted her head back, giving me access to her voluptuous breasts spilling out over her top. I kissed her exposed bosom, working my nose down between her delectable valley, whilst my fingers worked the laces on her gown with practiced ease. As her dress pooled around her feet, I maneuvered to unlace her corset, tasting each inch of skin as it was revealed to me. Soon, her corset joined the gown on the floor. Walking back around I cupped her breasts, unable to capture all of her within my palms. She cooed and squirmed, begging me for more.
Slowly, I worked my way down her body. Her slightly plumped tummy enjoyed my tracing fingertips and licks of my tongue. I played with the hair on her mound, occasionally reaching down to strum her delightful clitoris. I very much enjoyed edging the ladies — something few men, unfortunately, took the time to do. I stroked her calf up to her thigh as I gently placed her leg on my shoulder, opening her delicious cunt for me. She became undone as I buried my face in her furry chalice. Any remaining decency abandoned her as she squealed dirty words in her excitement — words no lady, not even a lady of the night — should repeat. My tongue in her most private of places pulled out her first, noisy orgasm.