Fang Alley

I really hated doing a lot of work. I hate it when people resist or fight back, especially if they scream for help. That’s why I was glad to find this perfect empty back alley bar that had been abandoned. It was a total wreck and would cost a small fortune to refurbish. What intrigued me the most was the old neon sign that read “Fang Alley Bar.” I bought it for about thirty thousand dollars and began cleaning up the trash. I didn’t care to use it for its purpose but I would have it clean. I installed soundproof doors and set up my wards. No intrusive humans or anything else. I enchanted the now-working sign to attract what I wanted. I purchased a bed and put it in the back stockroom, dark and cold as it was it felt like home. I did not live well.

Finally, after about a week, I was ready. I sat in the darkness of the alley, watching as people passed by, when the smell came to me. Strong and masculine, and young. The arousal set in and I exerted my power down the alley. The trap was set and the target was getting closer.

Why he was alone, I have no idea, but he was. He was about 6’1” with short, tangly black hair. He had creamy Latino skin and pouty lips and coal eyes. He had broad shoulders and great muscles. He wore a leather vest and pants, but nothing else. I could see tattoos around his arms. He was drunk already, and that was great. His foggy mind suddenly went completely soft as he turned to look down the alley. I stood up to my full height and pulled my black cloak apart to flash my pale, nude body.

He saw my pearly skin and rock hard, slender, smooth, eight inch cock. But that’s not what he craved. He craved my pink nipples to bite and lick and before he knew it, he stumbled forward into my embrace and began to suck and devour my nips.