My Vampire Fantasy
Dark and stormy nights always do it for me. The urge to seek out my ultimate fate at the hands of a creature that I know would be my doom arises and is nearly overwhelming. I can picture the figure, fleetingly, pale and wraith like, yet hauntingly beautiful. The taboo of course is that sometimes the figure is female while other times I cannot tell. My mind plays tricks on me. I know that I am dancing with flames, hot and deadly, or rather so cold they burn.
cc 2.0 virginsuicide photography
Laying out on the bed, my skin exposed to the chill in the air, I listen to the pattering rain. It is not hard to hear a woman’s laughter floating through the rolling thunder. A breeze through an open window sends the air ghosting over my bare flesh, lifting my desire higher. Or is it a touch from the ethereal being in my mind?
I feel the light sweep across my body again, gentle, pale fingers with an icy touch. A cold breath against my ear. The waiting will drive me mad, I’m sure. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, I curl fingers into the spread beneath me as the lightest of breaths against my throat give way to cold lips and sharp fangs nipping at my neck.
My cock is definitely interested, even though the figure over me is surely cold with death. She slides a light tickling touch up my sides as she chooses to take what she wants, seating herself with ease over my molten hot member, just as rolling thunder blots out any sound she might have made. I, for once am grateful for the timing as a groan escapes me.
It is not like being screwed by a living woman. Her shape is different, inside. I can feel every internal ridge and bump intensely. She’s in humanly strong, in spite the fact that this is the only real contact we have. While the light touches have been icy, and remain so, friction between moving parts has already warmed her somewhat, although the moisture remains cooler then anything living.
I am tempted to raise my hands to her hips, to give myself some control, as her rhythm is alien to me, not dictated by a heartbeat at all. She seems to know this and I feel warning caresses against my wrists to keep my hands where they are as her movements speed up. I tighten my grip into the bed covers for fear that any attempt to control will end up in my death, or worse yet, prove this was all a figment of my imagination.
Then perhaps having this every night would be worth dying for…
That thought sends me over the edge, no matter how hard I try to stop it and prolong the encounter. I know already by the time I come to my senses she’ll be gone, leaving me alone in this darkness. But at least I have my Drac Fleshlight and I suppose, that means I don’t have to cross over, just yet.
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