I've been watching the various boards for a couple of years, wondering if anyone writing some of the erotic Vampire stories had it right. I don't really think so, based on my own experience, though occasionally one of them sounds close. The thing is, I guess I can't say I'm an expert, since there's no guarantee that others are like Brad. But it's hard to believe they could be very different, since when I think about him, everything seems so logical.

I was between marriages, the first a disaster, the second that lasted all this time, very happily. The only good thing from the first was my son Todd, who was four the year I gave up and filed for divorce. Money wasn't much of a problem, we oral surgeons do very well, and in my case the hours aren't too bad. At twenty eight, I wished that I was happier, because I had all the things you were supposed to need in life, but of course that isn't the answer, we all find out. Todd was a consistent pleasure, and for a year or so, I just sort of floated.

But eventually, I was starved for male companionship, and my small circle of friends just didn't offer any suitable company.

Masturbation was getting old, and besides a good looking, well built redhead in good shape should have alternatives, I thought. So I tried a couple of singles bars, and met Brad the third night at the nicest.

Those places all have more girls than boys, and when this tall, blond man built like a surfer walked in, I was so far away that I figured he'd be surrounded before I could even get to him. He stood in the door to the bar, but didn't seem to be looking anywhere.

Still, none of the women even seemed to notice him. After a moment, he took a seat at the mahogany table in the foyer, and ordered a drink. I kept waiting for him to be attacked, but it didn't happen.

At the time, this car saleman was hitting on me, I remember he was trying so hard he kept spitting on my sleeve. I had been thinking about leaving to get away from him. Suddenly, he got this far away look in his eyes, and just walked off. That surprised me, and as I watched him go, this baritone voice said, very quietly, "I see you're alone. Want some company?" I looked up, and there he was.

Up close, he was a little swarthy, but his face was beautiful, if you can use that word for a man. There were some wrinkles, but it added character, and his eyes smiled. He was tall, but slim. He wore a black polo and dark red pants. It was super dramatic with the longish blond hair. I stared at him, but couldn't speak. Finally, he raised his eyebrows, and that sort of broke my spell, and I stuttered "Oh, yeah, well, sure, if you want." He sat down with a smooth, unhurried movement, right next to me. My heart was going a mile a minute, and my stomach churned.

An aside about myths. Later, I found out the only mind control he used that night was on the other women, and the salesman. He said that seduction was far more pleasurable when it was unforced. He said it was the chase, the pursuit, that added piquance. Besides, he didn't need it.

Of course, his physical presence and suave style were irresistible, particularly to a woman who hadn't felt the attention of a handsome, intelligent man in a sexual way for a good year and a half. "My name's Brad, Brad Lucard. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" I was tonguetied, but managed to choke out "Just here for a drink."

He chatted me up in a very nice, dignified way until I began to relax. After I finally worked up the nerve to tell him my recent history, he commented "The man must have been brain dead, Susan.

Beautiful, well built, making a lot of money. A little ego is a terrible thing." He was right, my ex had been all conflicted about me, and it had ruined any chance we might have had for a good relationship. The girl he had the affair with, that was the final straw, was short, dumpy, and earned seven bucks an hour in a law office. The idiot used her boss in the divorce, and my guy ate him alive.

But Brad had no such problem. I could tell he felt that I was a suitable companion for him, that he deserved someone special. As we talked, he was interesting, expressed opinions without fearing that I would disagree, and made me feel like an adult again. Also, just his conversation, and the occasional brush of his shoulder against mine had me getting my panties sticky. I remember being glad I had worn the sexy thong sheers, that went with the black chemise. After a while, I made sure his shoulder would brush my tits too.

Another digression. My pussy is really hyperactive. I cream fast, and have a strong musky odor, that isn't disagreeable. The first really pushy thing Brad did was lean slightly nearer to me, sniff the scent that was starting to surround me, overpowering my perfume, and then look into my eyes. He smiled, and went "Mmmmmmm. Susan, Susan. You smell wonderful, suddenly."

First, I blushed, embarassed that he had noticed so easily. Then I closed my eyes, saying to myself "Come on, asshole, this is why you came here." and whispered to him "My place isn't far, Brad. Why pay retail when I have some very old Brandy at home?" He signalled the waitress without another word, and we left two half finished drinks on the table. But the walk five blocks to my townhouse was like a seduction itself.

We both were letting ourselves brush together. He had a hand around my waist, and it very quickly cupped my ass. My arm around his waist would pull his hips into mine, and after a block I was turning slightly so his thigh bumped my crotch. I kept looking up into his eyes, and half way there, he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. It's a cliche, but it really was like an electric spark. We just kept rotating until we were trying to walk sideways, my stomach pushing into his cock, which was poking out and felt huge. Finally we stopped and embraced passionately, mouths open and sucking, tongues lashing each other.

I'm five eight, but he still towered over me. I hooked a leg around one of his, and used the leverage to grind my hips into his, being sure to get as good a feel of his stiff member as I could. I was breathing hard, and all I could smell was my cunt musk, surrounding us like a cloud. Remember I hadn't been laid for a long time, so I was mad with lust. He wasn't frantic, but went with my urgency, and I felt like I was in a world of our own there on the dark street. My mind was really out there, concentrating on his lips, his cock, the wonderful feel of his body against mine.

Suddenly, he picked me up and we were standing in front of my townhouse, the door open. I was a little surprised, because I didn't know how we had gotten there so fast, as he stood with my arms around his neck, holding me so easily. "Shall we go in, Susan?" That myth is true, he had to be invited. "Oh God, yes, hurry Brad." He strode powerfully into the living room, but set me gently on the long sectional couch, then knelt beside me. His lips met mine as I felt his hands dip into the bodice of my sheath, and begin to caress my boobs. The nips were hard already, and his touch sent bolts into my chest, even down to my twat. I was starting to writhe the way I do when I'm turned on, my hips moving in a fucking motion, my legs opening.

I was just soaring, waiting for his hand to get at my pussy, thinking he might rip my clothes off, pressing my mouth to his as hard as I could, trying to wrap my tongue around his. My arms were clawing at his shoulders, trying to pull him into me. Honestly, it was the most intense sexual arousal I had ever felt. His shoulder muscles were hard and their rippling as he moved his hands over me was incredibly stimulating. I kept sucking air in through my nose, not wanting to break the bond our lips had made.

Suddenly, he pulled away from me, and whispered "Susan, my beauty, let's take a moment and get naked." I blinked a couple of times, sort of knocked off rhythm, but when he stood up and pulled the black polo shirt over his head, I jumped to my knees, and tore the dress up over my head. My red hair got messed up, but that just made it wild around my head, not a bad look in the circumstances. My bare boobs felt the air, as I sighed with wonder at how good it was to have their cushiony fullness exposed. I held my hands with the dress over my head, watching him eye my tits. They're big, and sag a touch, but posed like that I've always thought they were attractive, nice and high, with big aureolae and nice tips. When I saw his pleasure in their look, I smiled. It's nice to be admired, and Brad did it with a leer that warmed me.

His hands reached out for them. He covered both with his palms, pushing gently, then letting his fingers caress and knead. God it felt good. We stayed like that for several minutes, while he played with my breasts, not only did it please him, it let me calm down a little. I whispered "Let's use the bed, Brad." He remembered about Todd, and asked "What about your son?" "It's his father's weekend."

Then I felt myself picked up again, his head buried between my tits, as he walked that decisive way to my bedroom down the hall.

He spread me out in the middle of my queen size bed. I had the dark red spread on it, so my pale skin must have been a nice contrast as I moaned and writhed gently, staring at him. That was the first time I felt the lovely anticipation that it turns out goes with Brad. I knew he was going to fuck me wonderfully, give me terrific orgasms, but there's another dimension, a sense of belonging to him, of pleasure in being his woman.

As I watched him push down his pants, revealing a semi-hard nine inch cock, the heat in my body soared. Just looking at him, muscular without being buffed, graceful in all his movements, a smile that was lusty, pleased with me, greedy, confident, playing on his face, I was lost in him. My hands fluttered at the thong, trying to slip it off, but he whispered "No, no Susan, let me." He almost floated down to my side, supporting himself on his elbow, his hand in my hair while the other cupped one of my tits. I felt his dong poking my hip, and had a little shuddering sort of mini climax right there.

He could tell, and the smile got wider, greedier. "Oh my beauty, what a deliciously sexy thing you are."

He kissed me while he caressed both breasts. His tongue was like a fiery lance, thrilling my whole body as it explored my mouth, and dueled with my own. I was wiggling at him, and tried to pull him on top of me. Instead, he released my mouth as he started kissing toward my tits, while his hand drifted down to my belly. He took a good five minutes with his mouth touching firmly on every hot spot on my upper body, until finally one nipple was sucked into his mouth, and his hand was under the thong, covering my cunt. I was vibrating, shuddering, and moaning as his finger found my clitty.

He massaged it very gently, even as the tingling his lips were causing on my nipples spread into me like a warm wave of desire. I was already way beyond any lovemaking I had ever known before. He kept me jangling like that for what seemed like an eternity. Then his head came up, and his hand withdrew. His eyes captured mine, and he sucked on the two fingers that had gotten wet with my pussy cream, licking it too. I groaned to him "Oh Brad, come on, come on.

Unnhhhh." Then he kissed me again, I could taste my cream, and had another one of those little cums. Sitting here writing this, I'm creaming again with the memory.

Then he gently twisted around to get his head near my abdomen, his eyes holding mine, licking his lips. He took a deep breath, grinned with the smell, and buried his head between my thighs, his mouth on the outside of the thong. He sucked, I swear some of the juice came through the panties, as I felt his cock on my cheek. Taking one last look at his gorgeous face about to eat my twat, I smiled at him, rotating my head enough to get the head of his tool to my mouth. He gave a little nod, as my lips surrounded the textured skin of his prickhead, projecting out of the foreskin. I felt the panties start to slide down my legs, and humped my hips to help.

The contact of his mouth with my trimmed, bare pussy was an explosion of ecstacy. He surrounded the whole thing, and his tongue entered me, then moved up to diddle my clit. The rush of desire made me push his member into my mouth, around four inches, while I licked it, pushing the foreskin down. I had thought that might make him push further, but his relaxed, easy pace continued. He made small, gentle movements, so I had room to get even more of that now hard flesh into my throat, knowing he wouldn't make a sudden move. When I did that, his tongue got impossibly deep into my cunt, sort of matching my sucking.

We just lay there making oral love, on and on, the smell my musk and perfume, a little of my sweat. I was rising to a boil, loving the taste of his cock, while he fed in my cunt. There wasn't any pre cum coming from him, but his flesh in my mouth was marvelous. For the first time, I noticed a smell he had, it was musky too, but very male. His tongue was fucking me, getting a long way down inside my vagina, yet somehow still rubbing the clitty. I started to rise toward another orgasm.

He pulled away from me when my hips started really thrusting at him.

He seemed to float around between my legs, his eyes drifting down from my face to take in my body. I could feel a sheen of sweat all over me, and rubbed myself, spreading it around, wanting to look good for him. I still had the stockings on, and I knew from years of studying myself in mirrors I was sensual as hell like this, because my tits were swelled, my cuntlips were too, and my stomach was sucked in from my hard breathing as I undulated. "Oh Brad, fuck me, fuck the shit out of me. Don't you want your beauty?"

That was the first time I saw the fangs. They never get huge, just sharp little eyeteeth. But they hadn't been there before. As he knelt there between my legs, my mind whirled, feeling that anticipation I was talking about. The fever in my body didn't give way to fear, but to want. I wanted him to fuck me and use me however he desired. I heard his murmured "I need you Susan." I know I smiled and reached up for him, turning my head slightly, exposing my neck.

Suddenly, I could feel my jugular vein pulsing there.

After that, the bliss was so strong that few details are clear to me. His cock stroked deep inside me slowly but firmly, it's size not bothering me a bit, I was so wet. As he bottomed on his first thrust, I came fully for what might as well have been the first time of my life, it was so powerful. His body was fully on top of me, and the whirlpool of joyful release closed on me like a vise. It went on and on, fantastic and sweet, enveloping me in a cocoon of wonder. I felt his breath on my throat, and licking. Heat radiated from there as well as throughout my body. He kept pistoning slowly as I wallowed in that cum, making it last and last.

Eventually I came down, but he was still inside, and started to go faster, fucking firmly while I wrapped my legs around his slim hips and met each downstroke. My clit was blossoming, but the echoes of tingling desire were all over me, my titties, my belly button, my asshole, everywhere. In spite of the lubrication inside my twat, I could feel every vein, every inch of his cock, as it pummeled me. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it against my throat. My mind was full of realization that this was supernatural in it's pleasure, accepting that he was going to drink my blood, not caring, wanting to nurture him. That idea was just a soft, secondary part of the ecstacy, but I knew. And I wanted it.

He continued fucking until I was there on the plateau, another climax right around the corner. My hips were writhing, meeting his, and I was groaning with desire. My hand was still pulling his mouth into my neck. I heard him sigh, then felt two little sharp pricks in the tender skin of the lower portion of the soft tissue of my throat where he had been kissing. Just for a moment, he paused with his mouth around that spot, his cock starting to fuck wildly, and the anticipation was a wonderful agony for me. Then he began to suck.

The feeding is like having your whole being sucked into him. It involves a surrender to him, a sense of nurturing him, and an orgasm that is beyond words, or anything human. The release is there, even stronger for me than the first time, but now rising into a rush that is better than a heroin shot, a first drink, the first drag on a cigarette in the morning, than the relief after childbirth. I kept pulling his head to me, but my other arm collapsed to the side, and my legs flailed out so I was spreadeagled there on the bed. He didn't feed long, just a minute or two I think, but he kept his tool inside me, and I felt him gushing deep in my cunt. It's the only time they can have an orgasm.

For me it lasted a good ten minutes. He licked at the spot on my neck, then lay with his head on my boobs as I gasped and luxuriated in the rapture. His dick was soft now, and he let his hand sort of knead and caress my pulsating pussy, as his spunk and my cream kept oozing out. My free hand started rubbing at my body, the excited spots responding to my touch. Then when my mind returned to some sort of control, I looked at him and pulled his head toward me, breathing "More Brad, take some more, do that again."

He chuckled and left me, laying there, returning quickly with two snifters of my good brandy. He pulled me up to a sitting position and gave me a sip. Then he hugged me to his body, and I nestled there, feeling his movements as he sipped on the brandy too. I lay back down and pleaded "Okay, Brad, thanks for the drink, now do it again, please, let me feed you." He leaned down and kissed my mouth, then sort of plumped some of the pillows up, resting them against the headboard, and pulled me up against them in a sitting position.

He handed me a glass, took his own, and lay down with his head on my tummy, facing me, playing with my tits.

"Darling Susan, if I drink too much I will use you up, and you are much too desirable for that. I will return to you tomorrow night, and will feed after your body has replenished itself. But we will make love again tonight. Drink, my beauty. Do not worry, we will share passion many times in your life." It turns out that what they do is develop a harem, so they can feed without killing. He says the last thing they want is to turn people into corpses or vampires.

"That's when they start hunting, my darling. Some jealous husband, jilted wife, religious zealot. We are flesh and blood, not ghosts or spirits. We have learned to be careful."

What happens is that your life separates into two parts. One is the normal, everyday routine of existence, holding it's own pleasures.

They don't dim, or wilt. It's just that their importance declines.

You're calmer, better controlled. I've found I can see things clearer now, without the passions and ego that otherwise color most of our judgements. People's foolishness doesn't anger you. It just goes with the territory.

Because the other part of your life contains all the emotional satisfaction you need. The passion, the desire, the fulfillment are beyond human experience, and it's marvelous. People told me I looked better than I ever had that first year, when he came almost every night. Toward the end, of course, I lost a little weight, but it wasn't all bad. I have never been more content, or happier, since.

Brad always came to me late in the night, waking me with his mind an hour or so before slipping through the window of my bedroom.

That first year, I would try to find new looks for him, spending most of my clothing budget on negligees, filmy underwear, a few of those Fredrick's of Hollywood things, loving to surprise and entice him. He would usually stay away after my period started, for several days. I would eat voraciously, gulping down iron and multivitamins.

He helped me find the right combination so I was generating plenty of blood.

I would lock Todd's door every night, then shower and sleep in the nude. Brad was an incredibly sensual man, and I became as rooted in eroticism as he was. The pleasures my body gave me had never seemed so lovely, so intense. Falling to sleep with cool satin sheets caressing my skin, surrounded by perfume, knowing he would be coming to me, was like being in heaven. Then awakening, his voice whispering in my mind, buzzing with the imminence of his presence, stretching and slowly dressing for him, puttering around in preparation, then for the last few minutes, standing there at the window, waiting.

Then he would be there, embracing me, whispering "Susan, Susan, my beauty, you look incredible tonight." His hands would caress me, slowly, never frantic, stoking me up, making me cream. He always said he loved my pussy's smell, and often would give me my first orgasm kneeling there while I was still wearing the evenings' costume, eating my cunt voraciously, while I supported myself on his head.

It was always unique. I remember times when I rode his prone body, working his stiff cock inside me for half an hour, cumming two or three times, until he would nod gently, and with a thrill I would lean down to offer him my throat. Crouched there, feeling him feed, the exploding rapture overtaking me, as shot after shot of his jism would leak down to wet our pubic hair. I remember his tool deep in my ass, from behind, the fangs surprising me, causing a more intense but quicker euphoria.

There was a spot on my groin he fed from, his fingers in my pussy, his cock exploding into my mouth, invigorating me. He always said that was one of his favorites, because my odor was so strong, and he loved the spasms in my belly. Once he fed on my breast, right in the aureola, the pain adding fervor to the whole experience. And always the surging, throbbing wonder of the climactic minutes.

After six months, he lingered one night. "My darling, you are very special to me, but I have been with you too long. I can feel you weakening." He had told me that it couldn't last forever, that eventually he would come less often. I began sobbing that moment, and he held me tenderly. I had given the matter some thought, and after calming down, argued "Brad, I can get as much Dexedrine as I need. It will keep me strong. One injection a day would be plenty, and it also helps build up the blood." Which was true, though there was a risk of overstimulation. But he didn't really understand the medical consequences.

The dex came to be part of our loveplay. I would have the syringe on the bedside table, and he would inject me a few moments before feeding. The rush from the drug added to the pleasure for both of us. I offered to get him some for his others, but he said "No my darling, I always tire of even my most delicious friends. You are so special I want to stay as long as possible, but eventually even you will wilt for me. Living for centuries makes permanence impossible."

At the time, he had four accolytes. Three women, one man. Every once in a while, when everyone's schedules permitted we would get together and have an orgy. In the year I was a regular for him, there were three. Todd was away each time, and the others were also free. He had an apartment in a seedy part of the city, that was a third floor loft. The first time I was the last to arrive, but just barely. You might think there would be jealousy, rivalry. But it isn't like that at all. We each knew all the others, and introductions were unnecessary. We all shared the rhapsody of his love, happily, and with wild exuberance.

The women were all buxom and pretty, and the man was a six foot hunk, though a little too beefy for my taste. Nonetheless, we all made love to each other. It was my first time with another woman, and with two cocks, but it all seemed natural and welcome. Brad fed from me as one of the women ate my pussy while the man buggered me.

When Brad was finished, he fucked me with the other still up my ass.

It was wild, and the release was as good as always, but it never made me as happy as alone with Brad. Sixty nining with the women was a pleasant thing to do while we waited. Each time he fed, we would all gather around, touching, caressing, filling whatever holes were available, sharing in the experience.I remember leaving with a sense of having made him happy, but no urge to do it again.

Eventually, it ended as a regular thing. "You cannot go on like this, Susan. I taste your blood, do you think you can fool me? We must stop." He didn't come for three weeks, and while the first week was terrible, I eventually got adjusted to a pale and weak normality. I quit the drug, and could see myself getting stronger.

The night I awoke with his voice preparing me in my mind, I had to shower quickly, and didn't have time to dress up at all. The leap in my heart when he embraced my bare flesh was a flash of hope. He wasn't going to leave me, it wasn't over, really.

You know how it is. Like sex. When you haven't had something for a long time, the thrill is better than when it's a regular thing. The rhapsody was like that with him, that night. Longer, more thrilling, encompassing beyond words. I kept gasping "Oh Brad, oh my dearest.

Ah yes, yes, ahhhhhh..." I asked him, finally, would it be every three weeks now? Could I count on it?

The short answer was no. He didn't come for a month after that first irregular visit, and in another year, it seems to me it was every five weeks or so. Not predictable. What it did, and truthfully now I think it's what he intended, was to make me get on with my life. I started dating, and found to my amazement that sex was better than it had ever been with even the older men. My sensuality had increased so that I would lead them, and it worked well.

Eventually, I met Samuel. Funny, I can't call him Sam. It just doesn't go. We were both attending a convention in Mexico. I felt kind of liberated, and wore a really sexy outfit to the evening dinner, and we met that first night. When we got back to the States, he asked me out, even though he had to drive three hours. I liked him well enough to simply have him stay with me, and that first night I sent Todd over to a friend's house. He's a really witty, happy guy, full of enthusiasms, and I found his excitement a great antidote to my continuing ennui.

And he said I made him a better lover than he had ever imagined himself. That first night, he got it up twice, going nuts over my boobs. I found myself grinning with each climax, watching his desperation give way to relief, then wild happiness at his success.

He was so delighted to feel he had been able to get me off twice. He was ten years older than I was, and our second date, I know he had a great time in my bed, but I also knew that our sex life wasn't going to last very long. He had to use a popper on our honeymoon, and after a year or so, we would plan on Saturday nights, and not make it up the couple of times I was menstruating.

But he made me happy. Still does, though not very often in bed anymore. He doesn't know about Brad, or Todd. But he knows there's someone. He still loves me, and I love him too, in a way. It's kind of a typical accommodation. Brad didn't show up for about a year after I was married, then one night, I felt his call.

I was instantly worried about Samuel, so I met Brad in the living room, in my nightgown, though I had time to put on makeup. As he kissed me hello, he whispered "Don't worry about your husband, he will sleep." The timing was such that I knew perfectly well it wasn't Brad that ruined my sex life with Samuel. And I wanted him so.

That was the night he started feeding far more heavily from me. It had been so long, that I almost forced him to take me deeply the first draught, the soul filling ecstacy lasting incredibly. I remember being spread eagled on the carpet, my gown still around my shoulders, my hand catching our juices as they leaked out of my pussy and eating them. His jism gave me some sort of boost. I was writhing, full of passion and want, holding his eyes and trying to make my undulations as sexy as I could.

It worked. "Susan, Susan, you are such an erotic sight, my beauty. I do love those tits so." He pulled my gown off, and pulled me on top of him. He penetrated me again, letting me ride that huge cock, as his lips sucked voraciously around my nipples. I never knew what he would do to me, yet it was never clumsy or strained. As I rose toward release, his hands in my hair pulled my neck down to him, and his licking of that sensitive, throbbing vein tingling me was so stimulating I was mewling with desire. As he started to drink, I still had enough energy to keep my hips moving, and he was groaning.

He didn't often do that, and I fantasized it was because he really wanted me.

He fed that night longer than he ever had, on and on, until I weakened far further than ever, still wrapped in the arms of the surging pleasure of our rapture. I went unconscious, in a coma of orgasm. I awoke with him still holding me, a funny strained look on his face. I was on the couch, barely able to breathe. But I had never felt happier.

That was the pattern from then on. Sometimes it would be three times a night, and I never orgasmed with him again unless he fed. His visits left me weak, often unable to work the next day. But those were the most precious moments of my existence. When he did it three times, on the third I would be almost in a coma, completely open to the euphoria. He would leave me on the couch, empty, moaning, happy.