The Hunger_(0)

THE HUNGER

THE HUNGER

My body was telling me I needed to start planning dinner. I don’t need to eat the way you might. I sustain my life with fluids, but my race always calls it The Hunger.

My life-mate and I were the last of our line on this continent. She was destroyed by the Others. No one seems to know why they hate Us. I’m not even sure if the Others know any more. Their attacks on Us have cost me some friends over the years. Of course, it affected me, but those who had been destroyed had not been mine. The loss of my life-mate was different. For the first time, I was truly alone. For the first time, I knew fear.

I choose to introduce myself by the name I use among mortals: John Smith. My life-mate was a female known to mankind as Alexandra. We had partnered centuries ago, back when vampires roamed freely. Many mortals mistake Us for that race, but we are different. While we use mortals to sustain Us, we don’t drink their blood. We do not harm the mortals we encounter, like the incubus and succubus can. We give pleasure. We gain our nourishment from the fluid of their loins.

Nourishment can be taken both from mortals and from the members of our clan. Any of Us can “make” a mortal into one of our brethren. We tend to hunt outside our group, preferring variety in our diet. As any mortal hunter or huntress knows, the hunt can, in its own way, be nearly as rewarding as the feast at its conclusion.

There is magic in the feedings given by a life-mate. The power of this magic keeps us free from disease and the ravages of time. My semen kept Alexandra as fresh and beautiful as the day I met her, and her pussy was my fountain of youth and health. If one of Us loses a life-mate, as I had, it can be the beginning of the end, as we are exposed to illness and aging much like mortals.

At the time of my beloved’s demise, I still appeared to be in my early twenties, as I had for hundreds of years. Only a short time had passed since her destruction, but already I saw the faint beginnings of creases at the corners of my eyes. Mortals would see them as laugh lines, or the result of outdoor activity. I only appeared to have aged a few years, still a lean, fit man in my mid to late twenties. The changes were subtle, but my time was limited. I had to make a new life-mate.

But where should I seek her? Every college campus, every shopping mall, every golf course has women from whom I can feed. Our species has adapted well to living among the mortals. None of Us forces ourselves on those we prey upon. Instead, we seduce them, not unlike the way the vampire “glamorizes” his victim. The difference between Us and the bloodsuckers is that those who feed Us leave the encounter unharmed, with nothing but life-long memories of amazing sex with a stranger.

It is my duty to perpetuate my species. I must seek out females in whom I can kindle The Hunger, women who will show me the lust necessary to survive as one of Us. By the teachings of The One Who Sees All, a mortal must be a virgin when taken and “made.”

To escape my grief over the loss of Alexandra, I decided to leave North America for a while. The Others were no doubt watching me. They had been tightening their noose on our race for a very long time. If they knew I was the only one left here, it wouldn’t be long until they pounced.

I decided to go to Europe. It’s where my ancestral roots are, both mortal and of the clan of Us. If I made my escape carefully, the Others would not look for me there right away. They are somewhat dull-witted compared to Us, but their numbers are large.

I teleported myself to Ireland, since many of Us still lived there. It would be a safe place to begin re-building my existence. Whether because of the size of our clan, or due to the ancient magic of races and clans that had preceded Us, The Others do not thrive there.

My thought was to search for a new life-mate, perhaps with the help of others in the clan. But first, I needed to feed. The Hunger was very strong. I might need more than one woman tonight to satisfy me.

I materialized on Harcourt Street in Dublin, across from Copper Face Jacks. The place looked busy. I didn’t expect this to be where I could look for a suitable virgin to “make” or to take as a life-mate, but feeding there would be relatively easy.

Clusters of young mortals were arriving in taxis or on foot. Many of the females were attractive and were dressed in a way that told me they had a certain “hunger” in them, too.

I went inside. The place was teeming with sexually active young mortals. Pheromones were heavy in the air. Hunting would be rewarding. I could re-build my strength and begin my quest for women to “make” into clanswomen, and even for a new life-mate, in the morning.

I sat at a high table for two near the dance floor, where I could best view my prospects. A young barmaid approached me. She was auburn-haired, full-figured, dressed in a v-neck shirt and leggings. Her clothing showcased the cleavage between her generous breasts, her succulent ass cheeks, and her puffy lower lips.

She was definitely a prospect for feeding. I sniffed the air around her. No human would notice the perfume of her womanhood at this point, since she was only mildly aroused, but my senses, particularly when I feel The Hunger, told me she could produce a nice helping of the fluid I craved. I wondered how easy it would be to bewitch her sumptuous legs apart.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked.

“A Virgin Mary,” I replied.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a Bloody Mary — tomato juice, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce, and a stick of celery. Just leave out the vodka,” I said.

“How spicy do you want it?” she asked. Her sultry emerald eyes penetrated mine.

“Spicy and full-bodied, the way I like my women.”

She blushed a bit at that, averted her gaze, and left to get me my drink.

I watched her move as she returned to me. Her breasts bounced gently as she walked, and my sensitive ears could tune out the music, allowing me to hear the soft wet sound her moist labia made with her movements.

The glass was decorated with a lemon wedge. She placed a small pepper grinder on the table next to it. “Some people like fresh-ground pepper as a garnish on a Bloody Mary,” she said. “Do you want some in your drink?”

“I do.”

Her hands shook slightly as she grasped the grinder and held it over my glass. “Say when,” she said, turning the handle.

I watched as the crumbled bits of pepper fell. Each piece hit the reddish liquid with a plop, and I could smell the heady spiciness of it, a pleasing counterpoint to the alluring aroma of sex emanating from this girl.

“When,” I said.

She set the pepper-mill on the table next to my glass.

“It should be stirred,” I said. I took her hand in mine, and used her index finger to stir the pepper into the drink. When it was blended to my satisfaction, I fixed my gaze on her eyes and raised her hand to my mouth to suck the liquid from her finger. A new wave of her aroma enveloped me as her pupils dilated slightly. She stood transfixed after I released her hand, her jaw slightly slack, lust burning in her eyes. Yes, this one could be a lot of fun.

“I’ll run a tab,” I said. She continued to stand there, her nipples erect under her shirt. “Sweetheart, you have other customers,” I reminded her.

With her face slightly flushed, she hurried away.

I sipped my drink and surveyed the room. There were hundreds of young people, all dressed to impress and seduce. My thoughts drifted to my departed love, Alexandra. She would have liked this place. She was a good huntress, and with only a glance would have had young men and women fighting each other for the chance to offer her their fluids. She and I enjoyed hunting as a team. We were good at it. We would have dined well here.

The barmaid passed by several times before I finished my drink. Every time our eyes met, I could see a slight hardening of her nipples and could smell a new whiff of her nectar. Could she alone produce enough to satisfy The Hunger in me tonight?

She arrived, right on cue, as I was setting down my empty glass.

“Another, sir?” she asked.

“Please.”

In moments, she returned. “More coarse-ground pepper?”

“Of course,” I said, looking in her passionate green eyes.

This time, I didn’t have to guide her as she stirred my drink. She seemed to hold her breath as she pulled her wet finger from the glass. I could see the wanting in her eyes as I raised her finger to my lips. She shivered as my tongue bathed her digit. Even though the lights were low, my sensitive vision could detect the slight dampness that was appearing on the front of her leggings. The Hunger became more insistent.

Usually, if I hunt in a crowd, I don’t decide on a source of nourishment right away. I enjoy hunting, selecting and preparing my meal. I must dine anyway, to sustain myself, so why not get all the pleasure out of the experience that I can? That usually means admiring the appearance, smell, and sound of numerous attractive women before experiencing the touch and blissful taste of one.

As I enjoyed my drink, I chose several women I wanted to talk to. There were a few I wanted to dance with, to touch and inhale before making my selection. This was going to be the perfect night.