1. A Crimson Snow


    Date: 12/3/2017, Categories: Seduction, Author: Adagio, Source: LushStories

    Most fears are written in poems and prose. Many dreads holding little of the crimson snow. Oft times seeming aloof, but that is my nature, when a hybrid of two different spores. A little bit eccentric I may be, but a vampire, none the less. Her body and flesh fit me so fine, falling into a sleep as we slept ladled, after a robust entwining. Our lips touched as if a sensual frost and our tongues mated. We had the candles lit, because electricity failed to excite us. The enamel of her teeth had raked my cock, making me feel so sublime as I hymned and hawed a full-croon. At somewhat of a loss in our recent migration from the States to Norway, we were assimilating into our new home and lifestyle. Her Nordic fair skin was pale translucent. Her hair a nocturnal shade of night. Ebba was applying her facial foundation, without amplifying a loudness that would be gaudy. Her eyes were black and shining, with vertical slits for pupils. Something feral, with an amber glint....for hunting. Her voluptuousness, like a siren song when she spoke, left a scent.. Like the hot musk of junipers. At times she would taunt my cock with her seductive wishes as she seduced me without a troubling thought. The Norwegian winds were blowing and howling, as snow drifts melted outside the door. Temperatures were rising above freezing as I sipped my scarlet tea, and rays of the midnight sun shone through the blinds. Algae, with a pigment of crimson bled through the thawing snow, the spring now awakening with ...
    a yawn. Coming behind me she laid an icy hand on my flesh. Her fingers were like cold stalactites tingling my flesh. "Wynsten, my darling, no more waiting. Tonight is the night." With a smile I agreed, as the clock was running to its appointed time, as the pendulum creaked. My inner sanctum howling, as my scrotum tightened. Her breath scented the breeze. I swallowed dusty air. She knew it had been too long since nourishing . Looking forward with a trace of energy, I had a feeling of lust running down my ancient spine. "May the Spirits chant my name, on the everlasting winter of my soul." When I turned, she was already three furlongs away. The scent of her excitement luring me in her tracks. In our pack it was the females who hunted. Their victims were so grateful, one could say they were killed with kindness. I wanted her to fail. I was an old school sort of vamp. As if a Fred Astaire, soft shoeing. Yet still, I slowly followed. My old toes cold to touch of the snow, as I hovered over the crystals. She had found a newly wed couple. She was good, that one. I felt her beckoning. Scenting the end to my melancholia, my tongue sensed a cocktail of crimson, to shake the mellow from my undead soul. They were still in their wedding finery. Both insisting that we come in from the cold. Ebba, my bride, of 763 years. She didn't look a day older than the virgin before us. With my ancient eyes I watched the groom. He was enamored. I saw his cock twitch when Ebba laid an ivory arm on his, ...
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