Winter is Coming: Complete Series: An Epic Tale of Love, Lust, Jealousy & Betrayal

by Piquette Fontaine

  I prefer to think of myself as a VILF.

  But, call it whatever you will, I've been about this age longer than just about anyone's been alive, in essence. I guess it's no surprise that I'm still insatiable when it comes to matters of either sex or blood, it just seems like it's been so long... Half a millennium of bloodthirstiness and cock hunger will do that to a girl.

  Now, I didn't immediately get this sexually depraved like the instant I was bitten or anything. I was too afraid to even get near another person, much less get intimate with a man. All I could think about when I saw other people was the warm, tender blood pumping through their veins, and the only use I had for them was as living bendy straws.

  Please bear in mind I never actually acted upon this bloodthirsty instinct. It bothered the hell out of me, and it was about the only thing I could manage to think about, like ever, but I've never been a killer of my fellow man. I will admit, I've nibbled here and there... I've savored the taste of blood from human veins, but I've never drained them down to the point that they'd croak or anything like that.

  And I'm not really proud of that, either. My impulses were so damn intense that I shook at the prospect of quenching my thirst, and to be quite honest I still get moist between the legs any time the bloodmobile comes into town...

  But, thank God, I was always managed to satisfy myself to some small degree by drinking blood from animals- poor things... I did feel guilty about that, because they didn't deserve to die like that just because I couldn't control my blood lust. But, such is life I suppose. A bat sank its fangs into me, and I was just paying it forward.

  So, yeah, it was a couple of years that I went around like that. Staying mostly in the forest all the time, so that I didn't end up snapping and attacking a person in my insatiability. I just didn't think I could live with myself if I ever did something like that- hell, I could barely live with myself as I was.

  But, I did.

  And it wasn't until I was eighteen that I discovered that sex could act just as successfully as a palliative for my bat shit lunacy, and I've largely preferred draining loads to draining blood ever since.

  I'll never really forget my first time, even if it was several hundred years ago. I had gone into town at the time, because damn me, I just couldn't stay in the woods all the time. I had to have supplies now and then. New clothes, things to keep me from going crazy. I didn't really have any money to spend, so I sort of just had to pocket anything I might have wanted.

  And that's what I met him, the man who changed my life, the man I'll never forget.

  Francisco.

  No, wait... Francesco?

  Shit.

  Ummmm... We'll just call him Frank. But I swear he was a lot sexier than the name Frank might otherwise lead you to believe.

  The two of us had shared a moment of eye contact, followed by a smile, followed by about five minutes of small talk, followed by I was in his bed bouncing up and down on his cock.

  Now, keep in mind I'd been a good little girl up to that point, i.e. I was still a virgin. So my own sexual prowess surprised me rather a lot. I screwed that mofo like a lightbulb, grinding and thrusting and humping him like an old pro, moving my body with the adeptness of a porn star despite my total lack of experience up to that point.

  The two of us must have went at it all night, and I could tell after the first five or six times that I might have been tiring him out, but I didn't care. I knew he would see it as a sign of personal weakness if he tuckered himself out while I was still firing on all cylinders, and I had no intentions of letting his bruised ego go to waste.

  I was feeling good for the first time in years, each ejaculation of his cum into my body feeding me in a way that blood never had, and even when I'd pretty much dried out his reserves for the night and the two of us were in essence just dry humping, I simply loved the act itself, the rocking of my body, the energy coursing through my veins, the sweat drooling down my body, my head light, and oh God, oh God, oh God, I was cumming again...

  And somehow, miraculously I was fulfilled. As in, I was free of my blood cravings for an entire week after that long night of sexual depravity, and I felt as though I could think clearly for the first time since I'd originally been bitten.

  I felt absolutely fan-damn-tastic.

  I kept coming back to his place and fucking him after that, and I absolutely loved it, each and every time, but I was beginning to notice his loads weren't sustaining me for as long each time- like, by the time I split up with him, I was barely getting through a whole day without my bloodlust creeping back up on me, and I decided to make like a rolling stone and... Um... Roll, I guess.

  You would think at 400 I would have these aphorisms down a little better. But, memory's supposedly the first thing to go, I guess.

  Anywho, I sort of just sustained myself like that for a while, spreading my legs and flying from man to man to man seeking carnal sustenance, week after week, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, century after century...

  God, I hate thinking about the fact that I'm almost half a millennium old by now... Fuck me...

  But, here's the thing about the way life was progressing for me. Since I didn't really age normally, my taste in men never really matured as I did, even as I grew past the equivalent phase where I should reasonably have been with men in their forties and fifties. I don't know how to justify it rationally, and maybe I'm just using this as an excuse to carry on with my dirty filthy MILFY ways.

  But my theory is, I spent a good three centuries feeling like a young woman, a young woman who dated young men, because they saw me as their own age, even if in reality I was secretly old enough to be their great great great grandmothers or more.

  So by the time I was pushing four hundred, I think it came as something of a surprise to me that eighteen year olds no longer wanted me the way they always had. And I mean, it came in a lot of varieties over time. The middle of this century was hell on me, because sexual propriety was all the rage- I got men to screw me, but it sure was tough getting them out of their comfort zones and in between the thighs of this lovely mature lady. I did have to resort to older guys sometimes, but I found this did hardly anything to keep me ticking for long. I'd screw someone in their forties and then a few hours later be hungry again. I just couldn't help it.

  I'd acquired an insatiable appetite for young blood, and nothing else in the world would do the trick.

  Chapter Two

  The years passed by- the seventies were great with their free love, and guys starting to stick their cocks into anything with a hole without feeling too bad about it- until finally I arrived at the present day, and my first real crush on a young boy since all those years ago with Frankie or Francesco or Frankenstein or whatever the hell his name was.

  The new millennium saw me getting more action than ever from young guys, because millennials seemed to have the least problem of all compared with any generation before them of bumping uglies with a more mature lady- hell, they had TV shows about it now, not to mention fucking porn and erotica genres (wink wink.)

  I've had my heels around my head with young men plenty of times in the past few years, if you catch my perverted drift, but I could never have been said to be truly head over heels for one of my spoiled despoilers until Kevin came along.

  Shit. Kevin....

  Are you aware of what happens in the book Lolita? I sort of pulled a Humbert Humbert whenever my gaze happened to fall upon this beautiful specimen of adolescent masculinity, marrying his father, a man I didn't truly feel the least bit of affection for whatsoever, just to be around his son. Except, well, Kevin was 18, and not... You know what? Forget the fucking Lolita bit. It makes it sound a hell of a lot worse than it was. Although it was pretty bad, but in a good, sexy way. Well, depending on who you ask... Maybe not so good for his old man, but for me it was pretty good.

  It seemed like fate the day I first crossed paths with my favorite young cub. Can you guess what he was doing when I met
him? It was something I love as well.

  He was fucking the first time I saw him...

  See, I was hiding out in some trees one night, staring up at the full moon. Even having myself largely under control when it comes to the vampire stuff, I still get this urge from time to time to reconnect with my more primal nature. Hell, sometimes when I'm feeling really silly I sleep hanging upside down from the ceiling. But that's another story.

  So anyway, here I am in the trees, when this pair of headlights illuminates the ground underneath me. I started to get just a little bit freaked out, because well, a fully grown woman just sitting around in a tree in the middle of the night runs the risk of being thrown into the goddamn loony bin.

  But, I quickly saw that the driver of the vehicle had something far more pressing than myself on his mind, and that I was probably safe from whatever the hell I might have had to worry about happening.

  See, Kevin had a little girlie with him in his car, and I could tell a middle aged prowler was the last thing in the world that might run the risk of drawing his attention in that moment. Now, I may admittedly have been just a little bit jealous in my present state and therefore biased in saying this, but I could tell that the girl he was with was a real slut bimbo. She was the type of girl for whom the only remotely positive thing you could say was that she was “good pussy.” It was obvious she didn't have a brain in her head or any worthwhile assets other than her physical ones, and that she was the type of girl that got passed around among the football team in high school and then left to live a sad unhappy life after graduation.

  Okay, so I didn't actually know the first damn thing about her. But my jealous intuition told me that was exactly what she was.

  She was kind of just a little fleck of a girl, eighteen years old from what I learned from Kevin afterwards. She had this compact little body, like she wasn't actually grown into it yet, or she was like a fucking miniature version of a girl, the striking exception being her girly parts, which were hugely exaggerated in comparison to the rest of her body. Fat ass. Ginormous that jiggled like crazy anytime she turned her pretty little fucking head.

  I already couldn't stand the little bitch...

  Now Kevin, on the other hand, I went wet for from the get-go. A strapping young lad, body like a male model's. Muscular, athletic, toned and fit and able to rip a girl apart, as I was about to witness, and pretty fucking well endowed, as I was also about to witness...

  I watched the two little lovebirds as they pecked each other on the lips in the front seat of the car, thinking that they would probably stay contained inside where it was warm and dry, and that before long I would see the car start rockin' around on its wheels. I probably would have just forgotten about it if that had been the case, an amusing little incident that had made my night a little bit more interesting- hell, titillating even- but not much else.

  But then the dome light of the car came on, and the doors opened. The two of them scrambled out of the car, with Kevin having to tug the little slut along a bit for her to buy into it. “Come on, I swear to God no one's gonna see us,” he was saying, and I smiled at how oblivious he was to the fact he was being watched.

  “Nooooooooo,” whined the bitch, giggling even as she said it, in the manner that indicated she didn't not want to, but that she was nervous and wanted to be seduced into it.

  By the way, does me calling her a bitch bother you? Maybe I shouldn't say that. I'm just being silly, I don't mean anything by it. Like, if it was a guy I was jealous of instead of a girl I'd probably just call him a bastard. Ain't no thang.

  Anyway, the bastard had pulled the bitch into himself at this point, grabbing her by the ass and pulling her into his body, his lips melting into hers as a sneaky means of changing her mind about things, and I could feel myself getting pretty damn moist watching his cock dig into her short shorts through the denim of his jeans.

  Oh come on, you expected me not to watch? I'm not some pervert who goes around looking for this sort of shit. I was fucking stuck here until they'd finished doing it, what the hell did you expect me to do? They were the ones getting ready to screw their way into my evening, I had every right to at least watch the disruption. God, you people are judgmental for paranormal smut readers...

  After some time of this the two little youngsters snapped their lips apart, staring into one another's eyes, the girl, I'm sure, thinking that this was fucking true love, and they gazed for so long that it fucking made me uncomfortable. Like, I could actually feel their crotches burning on their behalf, the little fuckers..

  Kevin leaned into her, pressing his lips tenderly against her ear, and whispered quite loudly, “Come on babe, take your top off...”

  “What? No!” she giggled, and I could tell she was fucking begging for him to convince her.

  “Come on, babe,” he said, and started caressing her right boob, staring again for a long time into her eyes.

  Well, of course the little cunt looked around wildly in each direction, making sure that the coast was every damn ounce as clear as he told her it would be, then she hurriedly hooked her fingers into the hem of her tight little t-shirt, wriggling it up off over her head, the fabric sliding like snake skin along her taut little abdomen, revealing a glistening pierced navel and an immaculate pair of titties bolstered in the cups of a pink bra with white polka dots. Then she reached behind her shoulders, smiling at Kevin, not taking her fucking eyes off him the entire time, and undid the hook. She pulled it off slowly, offering him a generous glance of her tits, huge and luscious, with perfect little brown nubs for nipples.

  He cupped the palms of his hands against them, pushing them tenderly around on her body, making me burn up above, my own neglected boobies almost sore with envy at his touch.

  “Your turn,” whispered the slut, and he smiled at her, reaching for the hem of his own shirt, and pulling it up off of him in one fell swoop.

  Holy shit.

  I just about damn near fell out of my tree branch when I saw him without a shirt on, his muscles rippling across his form like the fucking flanks of a horse, with delectably chiseled pecs, a washboard stomach with all six cans full and intact inside the pack of his abdominals, an outie belly button that was just too damn perfect for a human being to possess, all topped off with a set of sculpted V-lines marking out his Adonis muscles, an all too rare occurrence in men, I've learned from my many centuries of experience, like an arrow pointing down to the immense treasure down below.

  Speaking of said treasure, my highly detested slut friend was now digging for it, running her hands admiringly across the terrain of his musculature, and letting the fingers drizzle down like rain along his contours, reaching the fly of his tight jeans, unbuttoning them, and tugging the zipper down. Then she plunged her hand into his boxers, and I could almost feel the heat of his masculinity burning through my palm as she struggled to gain a hold on it in its immensity. I clenched my fingers a few times into a fist, the sort of motion a man makes whenever he wants to subtly indicate grabbing a woman's booby.

  At last she whipped the thing out, and once more I just damn near about fell out of the tree, and again I was put in mind of a horse's anatomy at the sight of him. His cock looked as though it had been transplanted off of one and simply soldered onto a human being, long and thick and veiny, swaying from his body like the branch of a tree in the wind with the removal of his boxers, his scrotum hanging down from his pelvis like a fucking punching bag, each nut about as big around as a grapefruit, the combined package about enough to tear a girl like the one he was with to bits.

  Holy hell.

  It was in that moment that I felt absolutely certain of the fact that I was in love...

  Little topless miss sweet nips came ducking down to her knees, and I could see her struggling to figure out how to get the thing to fit inside her pretty little lips.

  Amateur.

  If that had been me I would have sucked him off six ways to Sunday and back again...

  She tilted hr
head in a few different orientations, considering a useful strategy, until finally leaning in, letting her lips dissolve around the head of Kevin's erect penis, making a faint little whimpering “Mm,” noise. She waited for a moment, catching her breath, his dick only inside her up to its tip, and then pushed down further along, opening as wide as she could, until I could tell he was just beginning to press down into her throat, at which point she gagged him back up, smiling at him, a little embarrassed, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

  “Here babe,” he said, and placed a helpful hand on the back of her head, pressing her back into him, and this time his big fat cock went all the fucking way down, so that you could see the damn thing bulging in her fucking throat by the time he'd come to a halt.

  She was making all sorts of silent gagging noises, no vocalization, but sort of a gurgling liquid sound. He smiled at this, and pulled very slowly back out of her, almost back up to his tip, so that she could get a light breath in around the girth of his erection, and then pushed right back in once again, pulling in slowly, slowly, slowly, her lips pressing once again into the clean-shaven swath of his pubic area.

  He was very gentle with her, working up to a very tender rhythm, deep throating her in as easygoing a way as possible, more like he was giving her throat a massage than he was face fucking her, and she started making the gagging noises more vocally as he fucked her, “Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug-” I should specify that he was very gentle with her, but not gentle enough to actually let her out of doing it, because he fucking wanted her to suck him off, and he was going to fucking get it.

  I loved the idea of a young man who might think he could dominate me if it was myself in that situation, and I lusted after how wrong I would end up proving him if I had the chance...

  After some time of this gentle, lapping fellatio, Kevin pulled mercifully out of her, and she inhaled an intense gasp of air. Her breasts heaved in the moonlight as she struggled to catch her breath, and he pulled his jeans the rest of the way down off of himself as he watched her.