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The Vampire ladies having a wake sale of stale tomato aspic (a placebo for blood) to fatten the meager cougher's of the coven. She grasped my cock and bestowed on it a slippery kiss, as I eased on down to her cunt. "Have you ever tried eating pussy, wearing a crash helmet and magnifying goggles with a snorkel?" I was at a disadvantage, with the doctor's safety accouterments, but I gave my cock a good showing. Pecan being my weakness. Silently, in my bestest vampire canter, I eased up to the window. She was sitting in a hair salon chair, paging through a horoscope and dinosaur magazine. Making me home sick, with memories of the invention of the square wheel.
As a hundred yards off the beach, raising a small sail, a portmanteau caught the wind. My penis lay shriveled across a thigh of her rubber chicken as her crotch dumplings began to rise. In the middle of the room a dark brume hung over a portmanteau that sat on small caster wheels. As the tremors slowly massage the flooring, the portmanteau started to scooch toward the door that came open with the tremblings. The harlots were scampering in undress and holding their noses as they past Ezekiel's now ajar door. At that moment the door was smashed open by a flying apparatus, resembling a portmanteau, with an old geezer astride. "Fuck her like a dog, Ezekiel."
I actually did agree with the old monster, so I nodded and replied, "Yes, that is so true, but I'm sure you have your sources." I wasn't about to reveal that I'd twigged onto a cache of goodies owned by the late Pol Pot. "Good boy!" Scorn roared, a smile beaming across his lovely mouth. Scorn smiled and said "That's just a little bonus, from me to you Mendel. She said "Don't come back, Mendel." I thought that was an excellent bit of advice and I planned to take it deeply into my cold dead beating heart. I in turn rubbed her tiny breasts and the nipples exploded into hard little nubs, like acorns under her rough shift.
I vampire, (Ezekiel) a living dead body. Often my conscience, a little church mouse, telling me, "I'm fucked up." Only to let me play in her tureen and her little pink (cunt) slipper. Her sphincter cleaving me, like a winking eye, blinded by light. Wanting to suck bacon (blood) before the dawn came up. Recently departing Idaho, after a run in with a potato hugging bitch. Her neon tattoos and the vascular atlas of her flesh swooning me a nine o'clock entry, as my one tooth scented her blood. Often, Dr. Neu Monia, doctor to the undead, would provide tomato aspic high energy bars to hold me over. She released a stream of urine with the heat of a double broiler. My cock plowing her pink slipper, as I sucked her blood.
It was show time, the lights dimmed and Honeysuckle came to the stage. Dancing slowly and very seductively starting to strip. Her busts threatening to burst out. She unbuttoned the front of her dress. She played with her pussy lips and they fluttered a cheer to the chairs. The customers were throwing cash and bottle caps on the stage. Between the darken streets and 12 steps shadowed from the sun, the life of a vampire is always on the run. Wafting like legs, with a creeping personality and putrefaction of vampire ambrosia. The night played out as I hungered between her thighs, and she scratched her initials on my back, before the moon expired. The confessional box reeking of sex and blood on the apse.
With a hungering desire for blood, and a lust for fucking, they incorporated themselves as business people or local merchants while keeping night hours. My good wife (a vampire) of many years, had proffered her cunt to me at an early age and I had obliged her with a crooked staff and in returned received eternal life as my damnation. Needless to say, as her thighs wrapped around my old gray head and my tobacco stained tooth supped on her cunt, she passed on unacceptable blood. I don't know how I missed the incineration and burning of the bones, but I awoke in a box facing the east, just in case Beelzebub showed up early. "Make sure she's a virgin, Ezekiel, and bring home buttermilk biscuits."
He was looking for night crawlers and I told him my girlfriend crawled with the best, when swinging on a pole and licking toe jam. "Ask her, if the feet have toe jam, Ezekiel?" With each sliding stroke of her hand, the jack raised me until I touched the inner roof panel. "It’s intermission, Ezekiel, use the hand sanitizer. All us vampires know that we’re supposed to wash our hands and fang before and after toe jam. The mouse on my shoulder was wearing a parka and earmuffs as I asked her what she wanted from the concession stand. When I return to the empty car, a small bat was hanging on the speaker pole, wearing a wimple and singing, "Shall we gather at the river, where bright angel feet have trod..."
The box literally falling apart, with splinters and fecal matter, lumped like coal in a corner with a thousand eyes. Moments later as Ezekiel exits the Desoto, at the coffin emporium. He was greeted by a shapely curvaceous woman, who was in early stages of vampire change-over. Soon to be fleshy thighs before his eyes and tongue. She was a tall shapely woman with long red hair and deep blue eyes that looked right through him. Vampire King. It was as if the sighs of ghouls and tormented souls were being carried by the howling wind. Arriving by car, a distant mile from the city line. She was flaunting her flesh at me as I demonstrated my cantering-pace, sliding my knuckles across the hardwood floor as my watch fob rattled and the hands on the dial spun.
There was a time, I grant you, back in the Middle Ages, you might have raised a cacodemon if you did your conjuration right; maybe even one of the big boys if you sacrificed a virgin or two. I was watching some imps pulling the hairs out the nostrils of Pol Pot. Did you know he was a freemason, by the way?" "So anyway, I generally hang out with the lesser demons and imps and watch them at their mischief." It takes forever, though." I paused to let that sink in, and then said: "Tell you what, if you've got a bit of virgin parchment handy I could make her name appear on it in letters of fire." So I gave him a whiff of the old brimstone and said: "Damn' right, I'm a demon.