Silently I creep through the night, tracking my victim. Floating on the breeze I stalk her scent. I close in and her window beckons. Effortlessly I rise past the sill, standing on air. Through the glass I see her. She lies warm and secure in her bed, not knowing her own vulnerability. Not knowing the horror I will visit upon her this night. Her innocence entices me. Her desire lures me. Her blood calls me, powerful for one so young.
This one is rare, her age having progressed beyond her own body. For weeks I have stalked her, finding out all I could about her. Her name, where she lives, what she does. Determining that although she has lived for eighteen years, her body is only now advancing into womanhood. She is untouched, unsullied by any man, pure, innocent, chaste, undefiled -- rare.
The night wind stirs her chestnut tresses through the small space she has unwittingly left between the window and the sill. I feel the hunger upon me. The urge. The drive. The burn. I draw myself apart, thinning, becoming effervescent, insubstantial -- mist. Drawn by the breeze, I flow through the tiny opening, sinking as I enter. Gently I spread throughout her room, a dense fog enshrouding her floor in a blanket of cloud.
Gathering the shifting tendrils of myself together, I rise, coalescing from the very air to stand at the foot of her bed. My stealth is flawless, having been forged and practiced over nearly one and a half millennia and I have made no sound, yet she stirs, her down cover falling away to reveal her soft, nubile, unclad body. Somehow she has perceived me from beyond the boundaries of sleep and is drifting toward consciousness. I release my will. She breathes deeply, once, and begins to drift back. I do not wish her to be awake yet. I wish to simply immerse myself in her beauty. I watch as she slumbers, her stirrings stirring in me a yearning to feel her. To know her. The very essence of her being. Her very soul.
I remain still, biding my time, immersing myself in her subconscious spirit for a time. Finally I can contain myself no longer and I release my hold upon her mind. Again she stirs, drifting toward consciousness but this time by my design. Her eyelids slowly divide and she reaches awareness. She does not see me at first, not recognizing her surroundings; still caught up in her dream. As the dream fades and she becomes cognizant she perceives me for the first time. Her eyes widen in fear and she opens her mouth to scream.
With a flicker of silent movement I am beside her, crouching over her, my hand covering her mouth. She freezes at my touch, barely daring even to breathe. My gaze, locked with her own, holds her motionless. My fingertips begin to move over her face. Tracing her ice blue eyes. Touching her full, supple lips. Moving along her aquiline jaw to her dainty ear. I hesitate at her throat, her racing pulse beckoning; the innocence of her blood calling, but I resist and my hand moves across her throat and further down her trembling body.
I gently stroke her barely formed breasts, fingertips circling her diminutive areolas, the cold of my touch making her tiny nipples harden and become erect. She sighs, moaning quietly despite her fear. Again, I release my will, dispelling the fear, suppressing everything but the secret desire that I sense within her. Her willingness surprises me. She does not have the experience to know what awaits her, yet she seems to yearn for it to happen. Her breathing quickens as I caress the smooth skin of her midriff, flirting with her navel. A sharp intake of breath as I approach the bare, pristine domain of her femaleness. I pass it by slowly, leaving it untouched for the moment, savoring the anticipation I feel within her as much as my own.
As I gently stroke the inside of her thigh my tongue flickers out and teases a nipple. Her body shudders and she gasps, arching her back with pleasure. I slowly draw my tongue along her neck almost succumbing to the tortuous desire to take her now. I control my rapacity, running my finger back up her inner thigh. Her legs part as I reach her inner sanctum and gently stroke her outer labia. She gasps again and her breathing becomes more rapid as my tongue drifts lower again. I pause briefly again at her petite breasts, slowly licking suckling and nibbling them. I can sense her anticipation as her body undulates on her bed.
My fingers easily part her lips and the scent of her mounting desire drives my urgency further. Yet I restrain myself, lest I spoil the moment. The consummation of this night would be all the more delicious for having awaited the proper time. I ease a finger into her, feeling the wetness but again I restrain myself, having come upon the barrier, which I knew I would find there. I would not ruin this night by breaking it with a finger -- oh no. That would come later. I ease the finger back out, continuing to lick and suck her breasts and begin to stroke her swelling clitoris. Her breath begins to come in short, shuddering pants.
I move now, positioning my face between her legs and continue stroking her clitoris, but now with my tongue. Her breathing quickens even more now as she starts to gyrate her hips, pressing the soft, barely grown down of her virgin womanhood against my face. I pull apart the folds of her labia and push back her clitoral hood and begin to suck gently on her clitoris. She shudders, arches her back, and bathes my face in a wash of juices. I drink them up eagerly as an aperitif for what is to come.
I continue to alternately lick and suck her clitoris, occasionally dipping down to penetrate her outer layers. All the while, making sure the barrier within remains unbroken. With her hands clamped solidly to my head and her legs locked around my shoulders, she bathes me in her sweet, juvenescent flood three more times.
As the waves from her last orgasm begin to dissipate, she unlocks her legs from my shoulders and pulls me upward. She knows what will come next and I sense within her the keenness of her desire for it to happen, though she is still unaware of its true nature. I oblige her, my own desire almost overwhelming me.
She pulls my face to hers and kisses me hungrily, tasting herself on my tongue as I plunge it into her mouth. I sense that she expects me to enter her then but I continue upward, bringing my erect member to her face. Somehow she understands and eagerly takes me into her mouth. Holding me in position with her hand she slowly begins to rock back and forth along the shaft. She takes me out of her warm, wet mouth to flick her tongue at the tip, lapping up the drops of juice that she gently squeezes from it.
Taking me into her mouth again she begins to move up and down the shaft more quickly, bringing me closer and closer to my own orgasm. At the last possible moment before I reach the point of no return I pull my column from her mouth. I would not cheat myself of the ultimate prize. Maidenhood is not easy to find in this day and age and it must be taken in the proper manner.
I move slowly downward again then, bringing myself to bear on her vestal aperture. She is still wet and I gently push into her, almost immediately coming up against the barrier within. With the greatest of care I begin moving, gently pressing and then easing back. Bit by bit, little by little I begin to feel the barrier start to give way as I slowly make my way further inside her.
I have not even penetrated her and she gasps again, shuddering in the throes of a fifth orgasm. She throws her legs around me, locking them in the small of my back and, with a low cry, forces me fully into herself in one, great thrust. My penetration is full and complete and I am buried completely inside of her. Quickly I pull out and replace my shaft with my tongue. The issue from the breaking of the barrier is sweeter and more rare than the best vintage of wine. I have only drunk from that particular cup five times in all my fourteen hundred years. It is to be savored and remembered.
When the flow slows to a trickle I again move upward. I position myself and penetrate her again. Moving together, slowly at first and then more quickly, we begin to undulate. Together we rock back and forth building to our denouement. I slide into her, the walls of her opening, saturated with moisture, squeezing me tighter and tighter as she races toward another orgasm.
My own orgasm is impending now and I sense the urgency in her moans. I quicken my pace. Our bodies are drenched with perspiration, beads of it dripping off me onto her body, glistening silver in the moonlight. She pulls me closer as her moans turn to wails. Building, closer and closer I approach my own climax, the walls of her womanhood squeezing me even tighter. Her wails turn to howls as she peaks again in another tumultuous orgasm, flooding the sheets of her bed with liquid.
Now it is time. I am approaching the brink now, almost there. I redouble my efforts and drive into her even harder and faster. As I stare deeply into her eyes I cascade over the edge and release a torrent of my own fluid deep within her. At the same moment, while she is still transfixed by my eyes and howling in the throes of yet another orgasm, the howls turn to screams as I bare my fangs and plunge them deep into her Carotid artery.
The flow from her is sweet beyond comparison. Driven tumultuously through the artery less than ten inches from a heart beating at a rate of one hundred and ninety beats per minute. Laced through and through with adrenaline and high strength endorphins, the flavor is incomparable. The difference between this and my usual repast is like the difference between wine and champagne (or outdoor and hydro). It's a little harder to obtain and it costs a little more, but it's worth it.
She is still now. Drained. Definitely a rare vintage. A pity she can only be enjoyed once. At least she did not die a virgin. That would have been a waste.
One of these days I'm going to have to learn not to play with my food...