Vampire Girlfriend (Complete)

    When you were a young boy, you were sent to live with your grandparents. You remember being both relieved and excited to go live with them. It wasn’t the best of reasons you were going to live with them, but it was the best place for you. They lived on a small stretch of historic houses, each one bigger and grander than the one before. Your grandfather was an artisan carpenter, and he worked on restoring a lot of these old houses himself. In fact, he was called up every day by one of his neighbors to come work on the homes. 

    Your grandmother worked from home, she was a painter. Her works were on display in several museums, and her pieces were a focal point in many of the surrounding houses. Your family had never been well off, but because of your grandparents' skills and the money of the people around them, they were able to make a comfortable living for you. 

You worked with your grandfather often, going into the historic homes and seeing the opulence inside them. One of your favorites houses, aside from your own, was the house across the street. Your grandfather worked there often, and he loved it more than any of the other homes.

“The lady here is alone,” he tells you as you head into work one day. “Your Gran and I both keep tabs on her and help keep up with the place.”

“Is she even here?” You ask. “I’ve never even seen a car in the driveway.”

“She’s a mysterious creature,” your grandfather chuckles. “But she’s good people, and she’s always good to your Gran and me.”

Inside her house, you see a grandeur the others all are trying to replicate but can never be. Everything is beautiful and elegant and extremely old. She has several paintings by your grandmother on the wall, all hung in beautiful frames. There’s a fireplace, carved with strange little creatures in the stone. Above it, there hangs an old painting of a beautiful woman posing with a swan. You were astounded by it. The woman in the picture was beautiful, but there was a strangeness in her features. You were pulled to her.    

You never saw the woman who owned the house, but whenever she sent payment to your grandfather or requested a new piece from your grandmother, she always spoke highly of you. 

“I hear he’s doing well in school, I’m very proud of him. He’s a smart boy, and he will go far; I’m certain,” one letter stated. “I saw in the paper he was going to a camp for above-average children. I’m so amazed,” she scrawled on another letter. 

Despite the reputation of your grandparents, you often see as a ‘troubled kid’ or ‘bad influence’ in the neighborhood because of rumors about your parents. This made you a hot commodity with the young girls around you. They saw you as a way to get back at their parents. And sure, for a while you enjoyed it. But soon, it grew tedious, and you blew off advances as they came. To you, you had always been in love with the woman in the painting. You often dreamed of her, seeing her sharp eyes staring at you. Her cool palms caress your cheek. You hear the flutter of swans wings and a soft breath.

Around the time you’re going to college, your grandparents are in a bind. They want to be able to send you to your choice college, but it is expensive, and they’re not sure they can afford it.

“I can go to the local school and start saving. Once I get my bachelor’s degree, I can transfer. You two don’t need to worry,” you assure them.

“We’ve worked so hard to make sure you could have any choice you wanted,” your grandmother says. “Your education is our investment. We want you to do more and be more.”

“But you shouldn’t have to bend over backward for it,” you tell them. “You shouldn’t have to dig so deep for me still. I can do this, I promise.”

They silently agree but you know they’re still going to worry over this.

A few days later you get a letter in the mail from your neighbor. Inside is a check paying for your tuition. 

“I don’t have much in this world I give two shits about. But this family means a lot to me. I’ve enjoyed seeing you grow and I want to support you. There is nothing you can do but cash that check and start your life. I do not want to be paid back. I do not expect anything at all. Perhaps, once in a while, contact me. That’s all I ask.”

You try to go and thank her in person, but there is no one home. For days you try to thank her, but the doors remain locked. You slip a letter under her door thanking her on the day you’re leaving. 

    Once a month, you send her a letter, telling her of your progress in school and updating her on your life in general. You go home on holidays to visit your grandparents, but any attempts to visit the woman in person fail.

    After college, you’ve made a living as a traveling journalist. You’ve covered things from rock concerts to national inquire. Your most recent job took you into the center of the war. You were enjoying interviewing the locals until one day you were shot in the back. You were mistaken for a soldier and got shot in the shoulder and leg.

    After being released from the hospital, you moved back home. Your grandparents were happy to have you, but once again, you going to live with them wasn’t under the best of circumstances.

    “Take all the time you need,” your grandfather tells you. “I’ve been shot before too. It hurts but, it’s what’s in your head that takes a long time to heal.”

    You often spend days on the porch, either reading or painting with your grandmother. Even at her age, her hand is still steady and strong. One evening, as you’re finishing a book, you see someone leave the house across the street. It’s a young woman. She walks onto the porch to retrieve the mail. You barely get a glimpse of her before she goes inside, but her face is familiar.

    “She’s staying at the house for a while,” your grandmother says. “She’s related somehow, I can’t remember what she said. She’s a sweet girl, she adores your grandfather to bits.”

    You’re breathless because the girl looks exactly like the woman in the old painting in that house. The woman you might as well have called your first love.

    That evening, you have a dream about the woman in the painting, or is it the girl from the porch. The woman in the painting had long dark hair, this girl had short, pure white hair. But their features were the same. The same sharp eyes and full figure. Her elegant hands touch your face and stroke down your bare chest. She kisses the bullet wound on your shoulder, and it starts to bleed. She gasps softly, and you hear the fluttering of swan wings. She inches close and licks up the blood from the wound.

    You wake up, staring into the darkness of your room. You get up and walk outside, intending to smoke a cigarette alone. You try to light it when you hear a scoff.

    “You smoke?” A soft voice says. “Gross.”

    You look up, seeing the girl sitting on the stairs of the house across the street. She’s illuminated in the porch light. Her short white hair is fluffy on top. Her skin is pale, almost translucent. She looks like a ghost sitting there.

    You set down your lighter and gaze at her. “Who are you?”

    She laughs. “No one in particular,” he tilts her head, and you gaze at her neck, your eyes falling on her exposed cleavage. “What’re you looking at?”

    You glance back at her face, seeing her smirking. “Sorry I uhm-” you clear your throat.

    “You better be glad you’re cute, or I might take offense to that.” She then pats the stair beside her. “Don’t be creepy. Come over here and be a good neighbor.”

    You follow her command without question, hobbling across the street and sitting beside her. She eyes you, her expression is soft and tender. “You hurt?” She asks.

    You tug down your shirt to show her the stitches on your shoulder. “There’s one in my thigh too,” you say.

    “Oh,” she gasps, her eyes widening. “I didn’t-” she shakes her head. “I guess that’s why you moved back.”

    “I couldn’t stand being alone,” you admit. “I wanted to be with my grandparents.”

    “I don’t blame you,” she chuckles. “I want to be with your grandparents.” She then holds her hand out. “I’m Sabrina.”

    You take her hand and shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sabrina.”

    She smiles up at you. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says. “There’s a scrapbook inside with all your letters and articles. You’re very talented.”

    “Thanks, I uhm-” you shrug. “It will be a while before I write again.”

    “That’s a shame.” Sabrina murmurs. “Was it that bad?” She touches your arm, her cold fingers pet up to your shoulder.

    “I don’t remember much,” you admit. “I just remember the sound, and anytime I try to write again I hear it.”

    “That must be horrible,” Sabrina says. She then glances up at you. “What will you do then?” 

    “That’s why I’m here,” you say. “Maybe I’ll take over my grandfather’s work once I’m healed. I enjoyed it as much as I do writing.”

    “But writing in your passion,” Sabrina says softly. “You can’t give up on that.”

    You glance down at her, feeling a great storm of emotions. You feel desire for her, you feel strange and comforted by her. You smile softly. “I don’t want to.”

    From then on, in the evenings when you can’t find sleep, you go and visit Sabrina. You sit with her on the porch, talking to her. You enjoy being in her presence, there’s something very calming about her. 

    “So how are you related to the lady of the house,” You ask her one evening. “Is she your grandmother?”

    She smirks. “I killed her,” she teases.

    You scoff and elbow her playfully. “Not cute.”

    She looks at the door and then back at you. She sits up and places her palm on your cheek. She gets close to your face, and you close your eyes. You feel her soft lips press against yours and you lean in. She kisses you and your lips part. You can taste her, and you want more. The kiss grows deeper and harder, it is filled with desperation and needs. You gasp when she bites your lip, and you pull back. You see blood on her chin and mouth. You touch your lip and see it’s bleeding. 

    Sabrina comes back in, licking your lips of the blood. “You taste so sweet,” she moans.

    You grab her by her soft waist. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

    “Shh,” she whispers. She moves into your lap, and she presses her lips to your ear. “You can’t tell anyone,” she says. “Please. I love it here, I don’t want to disappear again.” She pulls back and looks you in the eye. Her blood is smeared on her chin, and her eyes glow crimson, but she doesn’t look menacing. In fact, she looks afraid.”

    “Sabrina,” you reached up and wipe her chin. “I owe you so much. I’d never hurt you.” You smile at her. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.”

    She smiles softly and stands up, leading you into the house. She takes you to the fireplace and sits you down on the sofa there. She looks up at the painting and then back at you. “That was a long time ago,” she admits.

    You touch her cheek, seeing there is a nearly invisible line that goes from the corner of her lips all the way towards her ears. “I’ve always loved that painting,” you tell her. “My first crush was on the woman in it.”

    She scoffs and turns her head, a cute smile on her lips. “Don’t tease.”

    “I mean it.” You tilt her chin so she can look up at you. “I still have that crush.”

    She licks her lips and shivers. “I’m sorry I bite you,” she whispers. “I got caught up in the moment.”

    You turn your head, exposing your neck to her. “Are you hungry?”

    She whimpers softly. “Yes, but I couldn’t I-”

    You cup the back of her head, and you feel her lips press to your skin. “I told you, I owe you so much, Sabrina,” you moan softly. 

    “I never wanted anything in return.” her lips brush against your skin. “But you taste so good I-” You feel her teeth on your skin and then a kiss. Her tongue licks and she sighs. “Is it ok? Really?” Her hands paw at your chest as she struggles to stay still.

    “I want you too,” you reply. “It’ll make me happy.”

    Sabrina sighs and then your feel her bite. The sharp pain is only for a moment, and then she feeds. She moans softly, and her soft body presses against you. The moment is intimate and sensual, and you feel your whole body go warm.

    She pulls back with a soft gasp, and she licks the puncture wounds as they seal. “Mm,” she moans. “That was...thank you.” She looks up at you, her eyes bright red. You see her mouth is open, slitting back towards her ears. She touches her jaw, closing her strange mouth. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I know it’s not pretty.”

    You kiss her cheek. “Sabrina, I’ve loved you for a long time,” you admit. “It’s new and strange, but it’s you.”

    Sabrina kisses you. “Let me thank you for the meal,” she purrs in your ear. She pushes up your shirt and kisses your chest. She smirks, “you’re hairy,” she says. “I like that.” She kisses you again as her hands wander down your stomach. She pushes down your pajama bottoms and grins down.

    “No underwear?” She asks.

    You bite your lip. “They’ve been rubbing against the stitches.”

    She touches your cock, slowly stroking it. When she drank your blood you had started to get hard, now, with Sabrina kissing you and touching you, it was starting to get thick and hot. Sabrina moans softly as she touches you. She pushes up her shirt, exposing her soft breasts to you. You see her veins under her skin, the dark blue and purple streams under her pale skin. You bend down, kissing her skin and fondling her soft breasts. You push her down as you take her dusky nipple into your mouth.

    “Anh-” Sabrina mewls. “Your mouth is hot.”

    Your eyes flick up to her as you move to her mouth breast. You tease her moist nipple, feeling it grow hard and engorged. You lift up and kiss her. “I want to taste you know,” you growl at her.

    Sabrina pants as she sits up, removing her shirt and pants. You undress too, sitting naked with her on the sofa. You kiss again, pressing your body together. She looks into your eyes, tangling her sharp fingers in your hair. “Not here,” she whispers. She takes you by the hand, and together you walk naked through the house. She leads you upstairs and to her bedroom. She lays down on the massive bed, posing on dark green sheets. You gaze down at her, her full breasts and soft belly, her wide hips and smooth thighs. She’s a perfect creature. You kiss down her body, nuzzling to her stomach and rubbing your cheek to her thighs.

    “You stubble hurts,” she mewls.

    “Sorry,” you chuckle. “Ok, Sabrina, will you open your legs for me?” You kiss her mound and lick her belly button.

    Sabrina sighs and lifts her legs, opening them for you. Her slit is the same dusky color as her nipples, and her clit looks like a thick, plump berry. You spread her lips open and lick there. She gasps softly, running her stiletto like nails down your scalp. You trail your tongue around her lips and gently tease her clit. She whimpers and her thighs twitch. You lick back down, tasting her nectar as it starts to seep out. You kiss her inner thighs and look up at her. You then lick her clit and suction your lips around it. She shudders and gasps, both hands tangling in your hair. 

    You growl and press deeper, suckling at her clit as you ease your fingers inside her. She cries out and then laughs. “Oh shit,” she moans. “Oh yes, mmm,” she rolls her hips, smearing her cream along your chin. You press your fingers deeper, feeling her squeeze around them. You lick at her and kiss her clit, giving a moment before you suck at it again. She gasps and sighs, shuddering and twitching. Her legs them clamp around your head as she cries out and mewls. You feel her inner walls vibrate around your fingers and as you pull them out, there’s coated with a thick layer of her cream. 

    Licking your fingers clean, you rise up over her. She’s smiling and breathing hard, clutching her chest as she swoons. “Oh wow,” she looks up at you. “Did you like your meal too?” She chuckles.

    You lick at your chops. “Of course I did.” You lay on top of her, kissing her as her loops her legs around your waist. “It’ll become my favorite meal.”

    She chuckles and licks your lips. “Just to warn you,” she purrs in your ear. “I bite when I’m having a good time.”

    “Good,” you growl. You arch your hips and rub yourself at her slit. “I was going to ask you to bite me.” You slip your cock into her, and she gasps, her mouth hanging open as you plunge deep into her slick, wet cave. 

    She drags her sharp nails down your back and digs them into your ass. “It’s so hot,” she mewls. She then smirks and licks her lips. “Big too.”

    You kiss her and sit up, cupping the back of her thighs. You start to move, thrusting deep inside her. Her belly jiggles with your onslaught. Her mouth opens, splitting from the corners of her lips to her ears. You see her sharp teeth inside and her blood-red tongue. You dip down, allowing her to grab hold of you and bite your arm. You push harder with each sharp bite, growling and snarling. Her nails drag down your back, and she moans. Her back arches off the bed and she whimpers. 

    You feel her squeezing around you from inside. You’re close too. You can feel the building momentum. Your movements become hard and erratic. You jerk and you throw your head back as you cry out. She mewls and whimpers and grabs hold of you as you lay on top of her. She pants into your ear and giggles.

    “That felt so good,” she purrs. She climbs out from under you and pets your back. “Sorry, it got kind of heated didn’t it.” She licks the claws marks down your back as well as the bite marks on your chest. She kisses your stitches and lays herself on your back. 

    “Its ok,” you pant. “As long as it’s you who does it.”

    Sabrina chuckles and kisses your neck. “Do you think you could get the energy to do it again before morning?” She purrs.

    You groan and roll over and pull her into your arms. “Maybe,” you chuckle. “You did bite me a lot.”

    She giggles. “You taste so good. I can’t help it,” she moans against your neck. 

    You smirk and kiss her cheek. “So do you.”

    She bites her lip. “You really know a thing or two down there,” she says. She then sits up and stretches. “Let me go get you some water. I don’t have anything to eat, I’ll have to make an order tomorrow.” She then kisses you softly. 

    You touch her cheek. “Don’t go yet,” you whisper. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

    Her eyes soften and her lips part. “Ok,” she snuggles back down beside you.

    You wrap her up in your arms and kiss the top of her head. “I’ve always loved you, Sabrina. Since the first moment, I saw your picture.”

    “I love you too,” she whispers. “I’ve always wanted what was best for you,” she murmurs. “I’ve wanted to protect you.” She kisses the stitches on your shoulder. “I never wanted you to lose your passion.”

    You touch her cheek. “I won’t,” you whisper. “I was always writing for you. I wanted you to be proud of me.” You smile. “I promise, I’ll always make you proud, Sabrina.”