Blood and Sex

It was after a few months that I started feeling the craving for blood, and looked in the mirror. I was older -- mid-twenties perhaps.

Yes, sperms worked, but the volume was small. One man was not enough.

I wasn't being unfaithful (not that it bothered me). I just needed medicine. It wasn't difficult for me to find men willing to be sucked off, with no obligation. I wasn't worried about disease, of course. I often approached a group of two or three, to save time and get my dose.

Remembering I did not love George (in fact was incapable of love) and had no moral scruples, it was not surprising that I started fucking as well.

There was something I read once, that a woman reaches her peak of sexual attractiveness to men at the age of nineteen. I was permanently nineteen, and relished the power I had. I didn't have orgasms (and wasn't interested in foreplay) but I got a buzz from the sperms themselves, and a thrill in feeling how helpless the men were. It amused me to play the weak little female, asking for help to lift or move things when I was far stronger than they were, then offering sex as thanks.

I was undead, but sex was the centre of my existence.

Before too long I told George. Not about being a vampire, of course. But that there would always be other men. My sex drive was too high for one man. He could accept it, or I we could split up.

I sometimes let him finger me or give me oral sex, but it really did nothing for me. I played along a bit, but all I really wanted was a man ejaculating, both for the fluid and the sense of power.

CHAPTER 7

I was feeling really good, having had sperms from five men. I dropped a pound coin by an old homeless man on the pavement near the bar.

"Daciana," he said weakly, and I was astonished to hear my original name.

Looking closely, he was far older than any man I had ever seen. Was it the Count?

I spoke excitedly in Romanian.

"I'm Steven," he said, in English.

I picked him up and carried him inside, taking him to the back room.

"What's up?" asked Andy who was serving. "Shall I call an ambulance?"

"I'm a trained nurse," I told him. "Is George upstairs?"

He nodded, so I went upstairs.

"George, darling, I really need to suck you off now!" I said as I burst through the door.

He laughed and protested, but quickly agreed.

With a mouthful of sperms, I hurried downstairs.

It was a long shot. Would they still have the life force, if not taken directly?

George followed me a few moments later to see me kissing a very old man.

A very old man who suddenly looked less unwell. Still old, but perhaps not so very old.

I needed some more. Could I persuade Andy?

"George, could you take over from Andy for a while?" I asked, not realising how strange the situation was in, my panic.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," he said, barring my way to the door. "There's always been something odd about you. You never have periods and you're obsessed with sex. Is this your grandfather? And why do you kiss him with a mouthful of spunk?"

I couldn't think of anything to say but the truth. (Well, I could always kill him afterwards.)

"I'm a vampire," I said. "If I get enough sperms then I don't need blood. Somehow it gives me the life force. This is my friend: he needs more sperms or blood urgently."

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. Then he frowned in thought.

"I'm a blood donor," he said. "You can have some of mine if you don't need to bite me. Andy's diabetic. There are some syringes and needles in the first-aid cupboard."

I swabbed with vodka and carefully inserted a needle on the end of a hypodermic into George's vein, taping it all securely in place. I slowly withdrew the plunger all the way out, and held Steven's head so that the blood was trickling into his mouth.

The relief in his face was wonderful to see.

I watched the time, and after five minutes said "That's enough".

George insisted he could give more, so I agreed to another two minutes, but no more. I guess as a blood donor he could tell.

Steven looked a lot better, and improved further through the evening. He was able to have some soup and to talk before going to sleep.

The shell which I thought had torn him to pieces had damaged him badly, but thrown him back. The pieces I had observed were of other men. He was trapped in rubble with other badly injured men. With a man beside him dying, unconscious and bleeding, he had not wasted the blood, but had drunk all he could. It had taken two weeks for his badly damaged body to repair enough to get out of the rubble, and he could still only crawl.

The unit had moved on. Helping himself to blood on the battlefield he had regained full strength, and stolen the identity of a dead doctor in a different army, faking recovery from shell shock. He had assumed that I had been killed by the shell, but eventually heard of a murder which sounded like it could be me, and had been trying to find me for ten years.

With garlic and CCTV, England had proved particularly difficult, and he had not drunk for nearly nine months.

CHAPTER 8

In the morning, I sucked George until he was just about to come, then thrust his cock between Steven's lips. Like me, he was pleased with the sensation.

George said he loved me, which I believed. It was my sexual power, of course, like the Count had over women, not real love. I had not enslaved him with my saliva. There was just something about me -- pheromones I suppose. And the vigour of a healthy nineteen-year old, of course.

He offered to let Steven suck him off directly for a while.

What we did was 69. He lay on his back and licked my pussy while Steven sucked him off, but he imagined it was me. I was sorry I could not come for George, but the pussy licking was not unpleasant. Just the faintest hint of physical feelings which I had long forgotten.

After a few days, George gave some more blood, which helped a lot, and Steven looked to be in his twenties again, though George was exhausted. If he was going to be our protector, we could not use him up so soon. Steven needed another donor or sperms.

Andy turned out to be gay. He knew there was something very odd about us, but could not work out what it was. I told him the old man had gone to hospital, where I had met my old friend Steven, who was also gay and new to the area. He told us of some gay places, and Steven learned to suck cocks and pretend he liked it.

We agreed the life force had to be the sperms. Living sperms had the life force, much more concentrated than blood, and it was there as long as they survived out of the body.

When I got a man who had had his tubes tied, there was no effect, and I soon learned to tell if a man was more or less fertile. It was not the liquid. Sperms take nearly three months to produce and are less concentrated in frequent ejaculations.

It all depended on the man and how long since he had come. As with blood, I could tell when I had had enough, but that did not stop me having some more. It was more than a medical need. Draining the life-force from the sperms felt good, and I enjoyed the power I had over men. I teased them and made them desperate to give their sperms to me.

Purely medically, oral administration was the most effective, but as I was getting plenty, then my cunt was fine.

And in practice I couldn't be permanently injured, so a gangbang could go on until I got bored or ran out of cocks, or it was closing time in the club. I didn't have an orgasm as such, but I felt very good as I exhausted one man after another, taking some of their life force and leaving them amazed at my power.

I sometimes wonder why I had never had sex all those years. I thought I didn't want it, and enjoyed playing what they would nowadays call a dominatrix, exciting a man, but not letting him come for a week or a month before killing him to get his blood.

But had the Count known? Had he just conditioned me? He couldn't fuck me, and didn't want the women he enslaved to go with anyone else, of course. But maybe he knew that sperms would do as well, and did not want us to find out. There was so much he knew, but didn't tell us. On the other hand, he was never going to suck cocks, so maybe he didn't, and I am sure Van Helsing would have mentioned it when he was trying to save us -- to tell me and my sister there was another way.

Even if it had no effect, I think I would have quite liked having sex with a man before I killed him.

It was different with Steve, of course. He wasn't gay, and did not feel good about sucking cocks, but had to accept it as unpleasant medicine.

I was sorry for him, really, I was. Either Van Helsing was wrong about the soul, or there was something in the sperms that blood lacks. Something that makes us a little bit human, a little bit less undead. I can at least say I was fond of both George and Steven, and I a bit sorry for the people I killed before I found out a better way to live. I wished I could tell my sister, if she had survived, and the Count (if he did not know), though I expect he would continue with blood even if he did.

We were fortunate that an Italian restaurant opened near us. Andy informed us that it didn't use garlic, which he also dislikes. The proprietor told us that many Italians are actually the same, and dismissed garlic as just used to disguise poor vegetables. Between the staff and the customers, we both acquired some new garlic-free sperm sources, as well as eating cheaply.

I had been in the Italian part of Switzerland with the Count about two hundred years ago, so started refreshing my Italian, while Steven was learning. The boss suggested a village in Italy we might go and visit some time, in a region where garlic is rarely used.

Steven was a beautiful sexy man, who would have great power over women. Unfortunately, he had no sperms and could not fuck, so could not enjoy that power as I did over men. He took sperms as medicine. The life force felt good, but the situation did not.

He said sometimes he thought of biting off the cock, and sucking the blood from a screaming man. And when we leave, he might try biting the balls off someone who has particularly annoyed him, and seeing if that gives a good dose of the life force. We would have to move on in ten years at most, or when there was an opportunity for a young surgeon and nurse to turn up to help with the wounded somewhere. We were not sure if we should kill George or not, when we do. Maybe we would convert him, if he asks. Probably we would go to that village in Italy.

Until then we would both suck cocks as if our lives depended on it.

CHAPTER 9

After three years Sally came back for George. It was a struggle, but she managed to prise him away from me. The power of true love, I suppose.

He was still fascinated by me, but belonged to her. We were superficially all friends, and were invited to the wedding a couple of years later.

I could see the glow of triumph in her eyes as he put the ring on her finger and she smiled in my direction. For some reason I felt happy (just a little) for them both.

But at the reception she said something that shocked me.

"I thought you people didn't get old," she said, quite casually.

(She said "you people"! Had he told her?)

"What a story!" she added. "Pretending to be vampires! He told me how you even tricked him into letting you drink some of his blood."

"Anyway, you're a lot younger than me, but I see you're getting on."

Was she just being catty? I laughed and remained casual.

But as soon as I could I went to the toilet to look in a mirror (yes, we do have reflections).

I was no longer nineteen. Still young, mid-twenties, but not quite that perfect blush of youth. As soon as I got the chance, I looked at Steven critically. He was older, too. Not much, but a bit.

"Are you getting enough sperm?" we both said together.

Well, I certainly was. Maybe it wasn't enough. We needed blood.

When George came back from honeymoon, we got him alone in the back room of the bar.

"Look, Rita," he said. "I still love you, I always will. But there's only Sally now. I can't give you sperms now."

"It's not sperms we need," said Steven, a little threateningly. "It's blood."

"Just a bit," I added, trying to calm things. "Like before. Just two minutes each. Just a top-up. I promise it won't be any more."

George was worried and frightened. I got the feeling that I had less power over him, but he still did love me in a mortal way, and felt quite sorry. Not just a little. Perhaps I was frightened as well.

George reluctantly allowed me. We had little valve and tube which could be fitted to a needle.

Eagerly I took my first mouthful, and nearly threw up.

"Sorry, I'm not used to it," I apologised, getting a glass of water.

Steven jumped in. He swallowed the first mouthful but had to give up.

We paused and tried again with no success.

"Fuck me!" said George. "Vampires who can't drink blood! Whatever are you going to do?"

Steven hugged me and I cried. Not much, but real tears.

"I'm sorry, George," I said, as Steven took me away.

What were we going to do?

CHAPTER 10

Steven took charge.

We went back to our flat. He picked me up, quite easily, of course.

"Either you're heavier, or I'm weaker," he said thoughtfully.

"Maybe sperms are like some drugs. You get used to them and you need more and more to get the same effect."

"Maybe we don't live for ever," I suggested. "Perhaps our time is up."

"But you saw the Count fifty years ago and he's at least a hundred years older," Steven argued. "And we're not the same age. The only thing that is different is we both stopped drinking blood at the same time. Maybe that was the mistake."

He decided on an experiment.

One of us would stop taking sperms -- obviously him -- and see what happened. Meanwhile I would try for even more sperms to see if a high enough dose got me younger.

Thinking back, we agreed that sperms had not been giving the same buzz as they had when we started. That feeling of the life-force had faded. On the other hand, I had got to quite like the feeling of being fucked. Not just mentally, but physically.

Steven wanted data, so we joined a gym. We were occasional visitors -- unfit people not making good use of their membership fee. The main thing was to try to lift weights when no-one was looking. We would pretend to be joking around and admire some of the bodybuilders. Two of us would be struggling to lift a heavy barbell, but in fact Steven's hands were only resting -- I was taking the full weight -- then we would try Steven's strength in the same way later.

Gang bangs wasted sperms, so I sucked whenever I could, and fucked men one at a time, lying down, and giving my body time to absorb. I still enjoyed the sex and the power, but sperms was what I needed.

After six months things had changed and they hadn't changed.

We didn't look any different. I was not younger and Steven was not older despite the fact that I had been taking in more sperms and he had not had any. He should definitely have aged several years, and his blood lust should have been rising. Still manageable, to maintain an appearance of a normal life, but getting stronger. This was the time we would start taking risks as the urge rose each day.

The only measurable effect was that we were physically weaker by about a third.

He said he was missing swallowing sperms and the company of some of the men, but the bloodlust had not yet appeared.

The next thing that happened was when he got an erection! Not an impressive one, but definitely more than half hard. I started sucking him to encourage it.

And I got a cold!

Just a little sniffle, but I definitely had a disease.

I realised I might have something else, so went to the clinic which the prostitutes use.

I had chlamydia as well.

None of the other diseases they tested for, and it was cleared up by antibiotics.

I stopped having sex (and passed on the chlamydia contact card to about twenty men).

It seemed as if we had become mortal again, or at least partially.

Maybe not completely, but emotions were there. If I could love, I loved Steven, and felt very strongly towards George. Steven said he loved me, he always had, but had been unable to feel it.

We both cried over the people we had killed. I had killed more.

Then I noticed my nipples.

They had just been there. Men had felt them and even kissed them, but I had merely observed. Now there was something else. When Steven felt or kissed them, I liked it. Not the sense of power, but a faint pleasant feeling. Like a human being.

It was very gradual, but forgotten sensations -- good and bad -- returned.

In a sense, I am pleased when I bang into something and it hurts.

But we have to be careful in other ways with our new and fragile bodies. We can catch disease, though we are careful to avoid this. Minor injuries take longer to heal, but still quite fast and well.

The idea of growing old together started to appeal more than living for ever, but had the dark side of what would happen if one died first. We now knew what love was. The real mortal love. Though we were probably not very good at it. Would we ever be truly human?

CHAPTER 11

By dealing with the criminals who help illegal immigrants we got new identities. I was a Romanian speaking orphan who had been sold into prostitution in England so did not know details about myself and had no family back home. It was not even certain which country I might have come from, so could not be sent back. The only suspicious thing was that when they got an interpreter, she said my language was very old-fashioned, but accepted my story of childhood with a grandmother in a mountain village where I did not know the name.

Steven took the name of an English child (also Steven) who had died young (which we got from a gravestone), and said he had roamed with criminal gangs instead of school, so had no documents, educational qualifications or national insurance. He had to coarsen his language. We had met up and left our lives of crime to start anew.

We went to special college to get basic school qualifications, and A levels. Steven very skilfully showed remarkable progress to get top grades, and was able to get into medical school while I trained as a nurse. We had the practical skills, of course, but medicine had advanced so we both had a lot to learn.

Naturally, we got married.

It was ten years before Steven was fully qualified again. And we looked ten years older.

Now we are on lists of volunteers for disaster relief, and intend to go to areas of conflict -- anywhere there are injured people bleeding, in fact. This is partly to make amends for the lives we have taken by saving others, but also for the blood. Not for ourselves, but we think there will be others like we were, who will come for the blood. Vampires.

We want to recruit one in order to find out more of the condition. With an actual vampire, two past ones and ordinary people it should be possible to find out more about how it works. The ability to recover from massive injury would be a great breakthrough, and how to stop or reverse aging has been a dream of mankind. We could demonstrate the difference to scientists and get them to use the most up-to-date techniques for investigating at cellular level.

We think there may be something like a virus or prion which changes the body so that the host can survive, but still infect others.

Steven thinks that some of our perceptions may be psychological. Our enhanced sense of smell and taste (or perhaps something else) enabled us to detect the moment of death, and we rejected blood thereafter, just because we were conditioned. As we did not get that buzz we associated with life force, we rejected George's blood that last time.