Turn, Turn, Turn
"Turn, Turn, Turn..."
She lifts her breasts and moans as I fuck in her, raising her knees and panting. "Do it now, please do it now!" I rasp my lips at the silken skin at her throat and softly bite. And drink. She screams in passion but not in pain. She bucks her hips and pushes her pussy deeper upon me. I raise my wrist and open a vein with my teeth. I push it towards her lips. She'd swallow anything now. She swallows me. Her little tongue pokes and licks at what I give her and she cries out. I feel it. She comes. I come. She turns. It's March 1st, 2014. Like that means anything."There is a season, Turn, Turn, Turn..."
Not for me. Not for Her now."A time to live, a time to die..."
Not for us now.
I didn't die in 1862. I nearly did. I guess I really did. It seems such a long time ago now. Antietam. I remember dying. I'd been shot in the chest. I wasn't even well enough to be placed inside the tent for the attention of the surgeons, instead, they left me outside with the doomed. I'm sorry? What "side" did I fight for? Does it matter? I fell for the South, Dear Reader. And as it happened, unlike the South, I rose again.
I was almost gone when my eyes fluttered open and I saw him. He was working up the line of the hopeless, ignoring the already dead but what looked like gently kissing the boys who were still alive. The moonlight illuminated his pale skin. When he got to me I begged. "Please don't..."
But he did. He bit me. As he sucked upon me I grasped on my belt for my bayonet. I found it and plunged it into his throat. His essence spurted and I caught some of it in my mouth. He hissed, eyes glaring and angry. But beautiful. Dangerous. Terrifying. I died. And when I woke up he was gone. I never knew my father."A time to kill, A time to heal..."
I was hungry. No, that's not true, I was thirsty. Over 20,000 soldiers were killed, wounded or missing on the battlefield at Antietam. Some were still warm. I drank. They died. They were dying anyway. When I was satisfied I moved to the shade of the woods. The sun was rising. I had not been supposed to see another sunrise and I rather think the sun resented me. I rested in the shade until the moon bloomed. I was thirsty again. There were enough left half-alive to taste. I tasted. It came so naturally. Or unnaturally. It depends on your point of view.
***"A time of love..."
There's a lot of nonsense spoken about my kind. Personally I love the taste of garlic. I can go out in daylight if the sun isn't too bright. I collect antique Crucifixes. And other things. We DO fuck, by the way. We DON'T bite everyone we take. Warm pussy is as nice to us as it is to you. Turned pussy is colder. Although it has its attractions. Which I think is where I began. I met her in a... WHAT? You want to know what happened in-between? How long have you got, Dear Reader? Not long enough and certainly not as long as I. So hush and listen..."A time you may embrace..."
She was packing groceries into an SUV. It was dusk. A bag broke and things spilled. I helped. She was beautiful. I am me. Coffee and talk. She is married with two children. For no reason she can explain she is unsatisfied. She is warm. I am hard in her company. I surreptitiously lick my teeth. I want to taste her.
(Our kind fuck each other of course, but not like you do. Not for us the questionable coupling and wonder. For us everything is certain. Years of experience and every pleasure. Practice makes perfect. Years of practice. So many fucking years, My Dears. So many fucking years.)
She is different. She is keen but not practiced. She is warm."And a time to refrain from embracing..."
I did not refrain. I brought her to the house. She wandered the halls and wondered at the Things. A Monet, (I knew him, charming drunkard) a signed first edition by Dickens, (a philanderer) a signed photograph of Stephen King... (Nice chap, no taste in music...) A Gold Album from Lady Gaga, a younger recruit to my people... You didn't know that did you? We walk among you, My Dears...
We kiss. She warms me. My hands move to her full breasts. She pants and I move my hands under her skirt. I finger her through her tiny knickers. She squeals. My long fingers inside her now I lay her on the bed. I undress her and she helps me, eager, wanting... I part her legs and enter her and she gasps at an unfamiliar coldness but I do not stop. I fuck her as she writhes and moans. I kiss her as I pleasure her, my teeth now sharp and needing to penetrate into her as my cock is... I want her so much. But I cannot take her, I cannot. I stop. She looks at me, wide-eyes glistening. "Did I do something wrong?"
A tear escapes my eye. I tell her what I am."A time for every purpose under heaven..."
"I don't care, Baby, fuck me please..."
She lifts her breasts and moans as I fuck in her, raising her knees and panting.
"Do it now, please do it now!"
I rasp my lips at the silken skin at her throat and softly bite. And drink. She screams in passion but not in pain. She bucks her hips and pushes her pussy deeper upon me. I raise my wrist and open a vein with my teeth. I push it towards her lips. She'd swallow anything now. She swallows me. Her little tongue pokes and licks at what I give her and she cries out. I feel it. She comes. I come. She turns.
Later, when I have dressed her, I take her into the city of New York. She screams in delight as we fly between the skyscrapers. Her crinolines wave in the wind. She does not feel the cold. I hold her hand. We soar.
"The people down there look so TINY," she giggles. "But Honey, I'm thirsty..."
"Pick one," I smile.
Her eyes shine as we swoop down.
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