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Vampire lust, p.7

Vampire Lust, page 7


Vampire Lust

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  “Evilyn,” Jason calls, “I’m still waiting to feel your tongue in my bung hole. Come.”

  “Yeah, stick that long snake-like tongue where it belongs,” Electra says. Her slender hips move just behind Jason’s rhythmic thrusts; she screams in pleasure, and keeps on bawling and grunting with an infrequent pause here and there. Tickling sensations going off along the length of her delicate sex tissue, she finds it hard differentiating between the lining of her vagina and rectum. “My God!” she yelps, “you’re made of steel.”

  Evilyn kneels at the foot of the mattress and spreads Jason’s butt-cheeks wide. He feels her wet tongue run through his whole crack. A slobbery lick. Electra writhes underneath him, his long rod going in deeper and deeper into her relaxed rear passage. He painfully hauls her arm up behind her back and rams his penis in hard, causing his balls to slap against her tailbone and Electra to call out for more. Her blissful cries are relentless.

  The tongue at his ass flicks between his cheeks. Evilyn jabs him randomly now and then with the pink tip of her tongue: the welcome anticipation sends warm slapping waves of pleasure up and down his back. A kiss by his asshole feeds his desire. Jason almost comes. The grip of Electra’s anal muscles tightens on his bone. He succumbs to a throaty moan: it feels like he is inside a vagina, the way she makes her ass walls pulse spasmodically on his root.

  The narrow tongue rims far into his asshole. The excitement he feels when Evilyn laps on his ass crack, great as it is, is subordinate compared to the sharp tonguing that forces out of him a gasp. A squint of come wets Electra’s anus. Over her back he keeps pressing on, maintaining the fast pace Electra cried for seconds into the start. The vigour of his jerks has stretched back his skin uncomfortably far away from the head; the purplish husk feels excessively chafed. The mild discomfort heightens the total pleasure. He tells himself he can keep it going for hours, but he longs for the shudder of his manhood in her butt hole as he bursts with his load.

  The tongue searching an inch deep in his rectum, Evilyn fingering his balls. The graze of soft rectum insides on his penis. Electra’s frantic cries, pants and yelps of pain as he forces her arm up a few more centimetres. He can see the end within four more thrusts. He doesn’t slow or make any effort to stop it. It is no surprise to him that on the forward stroke he judges he will surely come, the juice shoots at Electra’s colon. His body immediately relaxes; he exhales, dropping on his side.

  On his back he looks down. His penis is still pumping, pointing straight up. He inches to the centre of the mattress as the Es get up and shift about, resting his arms at his sides. Evilyn grins as she looks at his still erect member. Getting on her side, she takes his rod in one hand and gently pushes his skin back and forth.

  Electra gives the other E a surly look and glances down. Moving on her knees, she pulls up on his left side, staring hard. She can’t take her eyes off the large member stroked up and down in Evilyn’s cupped hand, even when she sticks a few fingers deep in her asshole. She brings out a thick blob of semen on her fingertip and bends forward, wiping her finger on his scrotum sac. She smiles, taking a ball in her hand.

  Getting her head closer, Evilyn cranes her neck and slowly brings out the small tip of her tongue. It swipes his swollen head, switches position and pokes into the eyelet. Jason lies on the back of his head and lets out a groan. Evilyn’s lips go around the top of his dick and she takes it in her mouth. Her lips suck on and off the head, lollypop style.

  Electra slots her face in low, tongue flapping at his balls. At speed she flicks her tongue, head bobbing. Then, cocking her head in a way that it doesn’t knock into Evilyn’s, she starts running the end of her tongue along the length of his rod, gradually rising to the head at the same time Evilyn moves up on his right side. Their tongues meet, clipping each other’s at the top.

  “Isn’t his cock a dream?” Electra says, gazing into her friend’s eyes the other side of Jason’s penis.

  Evilyn tilts her head, long hair spilling forward and lunges at his shaft with her tongue. “Yummy,” she replies, glancing to Jason’s testes. “Why don’t you go for his head, because I wanna suck his balls.”

  “Mmmm.” Electra changes position on her knees and gets her mouth directly over his penis. It sticks up, dead straight. She wets her lips and rubs them on and off his head. And says, “It’s a waste having the girl there, doing nothing.” Evilyn says nothing. Electra gives Evilyn an aggrieved look and opens her mouth on the penis. A few strokes with her lips, she feels the head at her throat. She comes down a little more till she gags. There is a gargling noise at the back of her throat; a mucus glob slips down his shaft as Electra brings her head up. “Get her to wipe her face and neck on her stinky knickers and the girl can lick your boots. Or Jace’s shoes.”

  “Good idea,” Evilyn says with enthusiasm, her gaze jumping to Electra briskly fellating Jason. Smiling, Evilyn cocks her head, laying it on Jason’s upper thigh, and sticks her tongue out. “I’ll give you this, E, you get all the best sicko ideas. I’ve always liked that about you.”

  “Well thank you, Mother Theresa,” Electra mumbles on Jason’s member, “that’s nice of you.”

  “Aren’t I always Ms. Congeniality?” Evilyn rotates her head on Jason’s thigh in the general direction of the girl, her hand playing with his testes. “Girl!” she hollers, not bothering to turn round far enough so she that she would be able to see the girl. “Wipe yourself clean and whatever else so you don’t dirty the bed linen, and get your arse over here pronto. You’re going to make our boots shine, no question.”

  Chapter 4

  Across the desk Garrison cups his hands and ignites a Marlboro Light.

  In the short respite Jason Winter glances at framed publicity portrait photos on a nicotine-stained wall. Celebrities, all minor. There’s faces he doesn’t recognise. Hardly household names. But then, nor is he. A beat-up grey metal filing cabinet seems to fit the shabby office perfectly, the laptop on the desk doesn’t; the décor hasn’t seen an overhaul since the mid-1970s. On another wall framed newspaper clippings, silver and gold record discs, movie posters and testimonials.

  “So tell me, you up for it?”

  Jason swivels back, uncrosses his legs. His face offers no distinct emotion. All attentive, he gives Garrison a cool, contemplative stare – still revealing nothing. “I dunno. It still sounds like trash to me. Porn with a little horror element. Right? The only thing those guys ever make is porn, nothing else – you admitted as much to me. Do I want to degrade myself by doing that kind of film? – I don’t think so.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Garrison starts to grin. “No one’s asking you to get your pecker out. That’s staying in your trousers, I can assure you.”

  Jason lifts a brow by a millimetre. “So I do my horror thing like a spare thumb while the rest of the cast gets their kit off?”

  “Exactly. No, I mean, your part doesn’t call for that at all. I know how you’d feel, so I made sure of it.” Garrison leans forward and taps ash from the tip of his cigarette into a movie tie-in ashcan. He wipes a shirt cuff across his sweaty forehead and flashes a smile – his mouth is uncontrollable, a grin coming on every other half a minute, however inopportune the moment. “It’s not a vampire this time, but you can do the mad psycho Charlie Manson type they want, no problem. You just have to do the big crazed eyes and you’re laughing, believe me. You got the look they’re after; they’re mad for you after seeing Vampire Terror – they loved that corny post-trash shit!”

  From Jason’s perspective, Garrison is looking and smelling more revolting by the second. The raw razor grazes on neck and jowls; the overpowering, meaty rank whiff coming from his armpits; his pathetic grin that’s way too near to a smirk; the glare off his shiny pool ball head, crossing Jason’s eyes every time he leans in to tap his cigarette. Wheeling a little to the right, Jason narrows his eyes and glances through the slats of a tatty,
yellowed Venetian blind. An alleyway in between a brick office and the backstage area of a theatre; nothing to distinguish it apart from being a place where employees gather for their smoking-break. And the fact that it’s a brisk ten minute walk from Wardour Street, probably a plus for an entertainment agency when the London street was the centre of UK film distribution and promotion, but the Seventies are a long time gone.

  “Am I reading you’re not up for the programme, you introspective, cucumber-cool thing?” Garrison asks, the grin intact, his voice whinny, inclined to be shrill as he gets excited. “I’m telling you – if you can forgive the cliché – they so want you!”

  “You’re not convincing me,” Jason says blandly. “And I have to go to the West Coast, right? Travelling and expenses, I’ll barely break even.”

  “Maybe we’ll end up with a little less than the last film. No matter, this’ Hollywood, baby!” Garrison cries, and waves his hand with a cigarette in it, white ash specks fluttering in the breeze-trail created by his jerky hand gesture. “Think how that’s gonna look on your résumé.”

  Jason squints, shifts his chair again. “My point entirely: they only make porno in Hollywood nowadays. And they want me to play a psycho? I thought the serial killer thing was dead now. Like totally.”

  “No way. That whole Bundy-Ed Gein-Ramirez jibe still gotta a few seasons to run – especially Stateside. You gotta be flexible; what’s out there for an old-school vampire?” Unguardedly, the corners of Garrison’s lips start lifting. “I could secure a few PAs, UK comic book and movie trade fests mainly, some children’s parties – vampires are so it with kiddies today – that sort of gig, if you’re interested.” He pauses, bends to a desk drawer. A dog-eared card file plunks to the desktop. “Or there’s this, as far as I can see it, a great job lined up for you with Cum U Like Productions. I know which direction I’d want to be headed.

  “Let me show you how perfect this gig is for you.” Slowly Garrison slides the file across the desktop. “It isn’t just the whole production team that wants you; the leading actress is busting balls to get you on board. Once she saw you in Vampire Terror she fell in love. Instantly. From what I hear, she’s gagging for it. Go on,” Garrison says, sweeping a paw toward the file, “take a look for yourself.”

  Garrison’s lips are as wide as Jason has seen all the while, like Garrison thinks what’s inside the file is going to be the clincher. Tugging the card to the edge of the desk before him, Jason opens the file cover. On top a colour glossy. A graveyard shot, the woman stood by an upright open coffin. Her bared breasts are enormous – 36D according to the stats – and as white as the face, heavily-coated in a Goth-vampire style. B-movie vamp dress cut below the rigid bosom, arched thick eyebrows, black lips, long black hair, feet spread in a way that shows off a lot of fishnet panty-hosed legs through the slit of her black dress. Garrison’s pressing all the right buttons: Jason loves the Plan 9 From Outer Space fem vamp look. And this vamp’s stacked on the heavy side, with the face more than sufficiently attractive.

  “She calls herself Empusa – or Mistress Empura, depending on what gig she’s doing,” Garrison remarks in a gushing, chipper voice, watching Jason flick a photo over to look at another. The well-developed star, naked from the waist up, in a pose looking like Betty Page, her hair and garish red lips spot on. “It’s a classical name; the story might interest you. She was one of the goddess Hecate’s crones from the Underworld. Empusa could take on any form, but is said to have preferred the appearance of an attractive woman. Which came in useful when enticing her victims: everyone loves a pretty girl and like that she found it so much easier to get her way. Get them hooked and back to her place and then end the date by eating him or her, that was her idea of a good night out. Nice. Our Empusa’s a fetish model, performance artist and professional dominatrix: as you can see she’s full of talent. A real renaissance woman; she’s had strong roles in films like Blood Orgy of the Flesh-eating Vampires, and Feast of the Bloodsucking Fiends 2. And there’s a host of CP and BDSM videos,” Garrison fumbles in a desk drawer. “Yep, they even sent me one. Pretty well representative of that side of her artistry, apparently. Interested? You can take it if you want.”

  With raised eyebrows Jason stares curiously at the video in Garrison’s hand, hesitating for a second. “Uh, okay.”

  Garrison laughs, leaning back in his chair. Light spawns a spot on his bald dome. “Have I discovered a weakness in the mysterious Jason Winter? Surely not? But I do think that girl’s gotcha intrigued, no?”

  “Don’t push it, Garrison,” Jason says sullenly, glaring.

  “Okay, okay,” Garrison pulls back, his hands thrown out in an open gesture of non-confrontation. He smiles, the lines in his face relaxed. “You don’t have to give me a final decision today. Take the file with you – I’m sure it’ll help. The more information the better, huh? Don’t say a word, though I’ve a feeling you might just decide you wanna do this movie. Am I right, or am I wrong? Seriously, right now, you really don’t have to say.”

  Chapter 5

  She feels the breath hot on her neck, a brush of warm skin across her bare knee. A child-like giggle seems close at hand as she stretches for the lamp switch on her bedside table.

  The dim, diffuse light reveals the girl’s naked body, fully reclined on a bed. With barely a rustle of bed linen a nude Electra crouches over the girl, her pipe-slender arms either side of the recumbent body and her face in close over the girl’s own. For the briefest of moments one of her little breasts bump on a bare rib cage; she kneels to the left of the girl up on the mattress, her lips midnight blue. Smiling inscrutably with a closed mouth, Electra gazes down to the girl’s parted lips. The girl feels her heart pounding fast in her chest; Electra’s face is eerily luminous. Her narrow fingers of her left hand gently stroke the side of the girl’s head. Heavy-lidded, Electra’s emotionless eyes examine the girl’s lips, her ass cheeks clenched tight at the side of the bed. On the girl’s face her breath is light but oppressive.

  Further along the girl’s body a naked Evilyn slouches at the foot of the bed, thick black hair draped over her bosoms. Bluish tattoos cover her bare biceps. The front of her moon-white right hand is spread out on the girl’s knee. Her head craned low she peers up to the girl’s small hardened breasts, standing up like two peaked mounds, untouched by hand but Electra’s right arm close enough for the girl to feel its heat.

  Electra’s left hand strokes the girl’s hair so lightly the gesture feels affectionate. Gradually, her dark brown eyes glancing down to the girl’s face all the time, Electra lowers her lips toward the girl’s. It seems to take half a minute or more before their mouths connect. The girl’s pulse rate quickens, waiting for the moist embrace. The thought of it scares her, but she doesn’t attempt to escape. Perhaps she can’t. If there is a way to combat the Undead right now she isn’t sure she even wants to resist. In her life the girl has only had one boyfriend, a punk from her hometown, with fumbling, inexperienced hands and a sexual repertoire severely lacking in broody anticipation. He never set her nerve-endings off, never came close to making them pulse wildly, like now; her whole body feels alive.

  And Evilyn’s head starts to go down; her hands gently ease the girl’s knees apart. The girl finds the feel of loose hair, the side of a bosom rubbing against her inner thigh, a delight. Then another sensation follows that immediately erects her spine: the narrow end of Evilyn’s tongue traces the crevice of the girl’s labia. A slow progress, working up lazily in between the outer lips, the tongue skims the bud of the girl’s clit. Electra feels the girl’s breathless gasp. She flicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Her lips press down hard on the girl’s. They hold hers tight and make loud sucking noises each time they peel away. Two tongues tease, swirl and prod, Evilyn’s forces a way in through the pussy lips. She thrusts in and out, in and out, her nose mashing on the girl’s pubes.

  The snaky tongue leaves the gir
l’s mouth dead slow. Goggle-eyed, wearily looking in the direction of the ceiling, it would take a superhuman effort for the girl to lift her head off the pillow. The lining of her vagina itches fiercely. The girl feels the languid, warm, virtually non-existent breath moving over her bosom. Closing her eyes, she exhales. The lips on her bosom cause her shoulders to jump. Easing all her muscles, she rolls her head on the pillow in an almost histrionic gesture, presses her lips tight and lets her mind drift. An ethereal whisper, sounding as if it is coming from the echoing depths of an airless crypt, from far, far below, from somewhere between her thighs, murmurs, We need blood. The girl opens her eyes in time to see the glint of the steel knife over her bosom. With a quick downward slice the whole nipple comes away from the small breast. An involuntarily scream, which fades to a deep-throated moan. The sharp pain passes in a moment. She can feel the soft, caressing mouth on her bleeding dome. This must be what it is like when a child suckles its mother: it is a warm soothing sensation she feels. Her body is getting heavier all along the length of the mattress; she feels the slobbery tip tonguing inside her, tasting her sweet wetness. Warm trickles run down one side, and go in her armpit. She desperately wants to open her eyes if only for one more time, to see the sight of their two gently bobbing heads over her body, but her lids won’t budge. Is this how it is to be turned, a steady conscious lapse into oblivion?

  Electra lifts her head up, blood gushing out of her closed mouth. She leans over the girl, opening her mouth over the girl’s. Their lips brush. The crimson juice hits the girl’s throat, flowing down quickly past the epiglottis. She loses a bit: a line of blood spills from the corner of her mouth, down her jaw. Electra’s mouth by the girl’s ear, feels like a kiss. Her breath is hot.

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