Hello, my new friends. I’m Ethan Taylor, and I’m glad you’re joining me tonight. I’m sorry to say my stories are frequently long at the beginning, but if you sit through what I feel you have to know, I promise you will be rewarded!

Now, before I begin one of the many tales of my exploits as a vicious, disgusting, yet merciful monster of the night, permit me to explain something to you about the world into which I was thrown some centuries ago.

Vampires have existed since well before Jesus roamed the earth. Originally, they were magicians and sorcerers whose favorite way of gathering energy to fuel their spells was from the life force of others. Truly, it was a cruel thing to witness these sorcerers mix potions into the drinks and food of their victims without their knowledge. These elixirs, with just a few drops, drove them into the brink of insanity – the equivalent of taking a small overdose of LSD today.

With their minds almost destroyed, the sorcerers would project their will onto these people. They would sit in their chairs or lie on their altars, totally willing and even enjoying these sorcerers literally devouring the very essence of their life. Have you ever seen your modern movie known as “Hocus Pocus” where three witches have hypnotized a girl, given her a potion, then sucked out her life force while she sat there, creepily and eerily calm and happy to have them drain her dry? Well, that’s pretty much what would happen.
Some sorcerers would gain great power, such as becoming High Priests to the Pharoahs or the lead village shaman and did not have to bother with such thing. A victim would be chosen and he’d be tied down while the witch or wizard would cast their spells around the person, pulling out their energy with their rituals.

They were smart, feeding and caring for the individuals so they would last longer – but most humans would not last longer than about ten rituals, finally fading away mid-chant for the mage.

I’m sure you’ve heard of blood rituals and sacrificial magick (spelled with a ‘k’ in our world to differentiate from stage tricks), famous for its gory horror. What magicians soon realized as that a huge concentration of life force energy is found in blood. A large vial of blood would have enough energy for about four or five powerful spells. Simply pulling energy from the aura was not powerful enough.

Eventually, these sorcerers became blood-hungry, finding ways to use blood and life force magicks to regenerate their bodies and even give them great strength and virtual immortality. There’s a price, though – their skin becomes almost albino in its sensitivity to light. This invention known as sunscreen has been a great boon to use.

I was not one of the original sorcerers from thousands of years ago who found ways to harvest blood for immortality. I was born about six or seven hundred years ago into a relatively normal family of nobility – I will not say which country, because to be honest I do not remember.

We had a strange relative, a distant cousin we treated as an uncle who would stay for only a day or two. He was generally kind to me, but very secretive. No one made a fuss about him, because he was the one whose fortune was keeping our family from the poorhouse.

It was my uncle who taught me magick. He began when I was seven, and by the time I was thirteen years old I could meditate deeply; see into the past, present, and future (though I disliked it, the images in my mind were often far too symbolic and only made sense after they occured); cast spells that brought me money, the things I desired, and even power over my friends. I could even mix a rather wide variety of potions – but since they often helped my family and the local apothecary had taken a great liking to my interest, no one paid any mind. Neither did I, until the morning of my thirteenth birthday.

I awoke to find every member of my family tied up in their chairs, unconscious. My uncle was there, in the drawing room, with them. I was upset and angry and shocked and scared – until my uncle managed to get me to drink an elixir that must have been some form of tranquilizer. After I was calm, he explained he had used a magick developed in the ancient world.

He opened his mouth and his canines suddenly grew long and sharp, then retracted. He explained that by biting into someone, you can drink their blood and harvest their life force for your own. A Vampiric Mage could focus their will upon them to bring them into unconsciousness and amnesia, or even total willingness. We need only drink a few gulps to satisfy our rejuvination for a day or two, then use the surge in our energy to heal the bite marks. If we drink too much, we can bring them from the brink of death and restore their blood using what drops were left. The second method left us with more energy, but took more practice, strength, and skill – and may shorten the victims life.

He demonstrated by drinking from my father. My uncle had not fed in over a year, because he enjoyed aging. His graying hair vanished, his flabby body that had gotten used to rich foods became taut and toned. He only became somewhat paler.

He then placed his hand upon my head and initiated me into the power of the Vampire. I had loved every member of my family, save my older brother, Henry. He was cruel to me, loathed that my parents doted on me and expected so much of him. Usually I pitied him and wished him better, but today, all I cared about was trying this newfound power.

When I bit into his neck, I suddenly hungered for his blood. It flooded my mouth, hot and heavy. Truly it did not taste as it had before, coppery and slippery. No, it was like drinking a sweet, flavored water after dying of thirst in a desert. Before Henry succumbed to my hunger, my uncle pulled me away and repaired our damage. Being hundreds of years old, he was able to wipe their memories and bite marks clean.

And so, my uncle convinced my parents to let me travel the world with him – get some experience into me. This way, my older brother and sister could focus on their studies without my interruption. This pleased my brother and he secretly begged my parents to let me leave. I had overheard this, and decided that I would feed from him every night until I left.

And so I did. I may have been new at this, but I had a talent. I would enter his room late at night when he was asleep. Closing the door, I would look at him and focus my will upon him, forcing him deeply into sleep. I would creep into his bed and lie beside him. If our parents walked in, I would simply say I got scared and felt safer with my brother, an obvious lie but with my newfound powers it would blow over easily.
For two weeks while my uncle made the arrangements, I fed hungrily, greedily upon my brother. I would laugh at his dizziness and tiredness throughout the day.

One night though, he was under my will but still dreaming and he began to say strange things.
“James… yes James,” James was a friend of Henry’s from the local college. He was friendly to me on the rare occasions I saw him.

“Suck it… oh, God in… Heaven you are good!” This sounded unusual, but it turned me on because I was slowly sucking on a vein in Henry’s arm, taking only a few tasty drops at a time.

“Suck my cock, just like… oh James, you’re sucking all of it!” I knew quite a lot about sex for such a young age and for that time period, mostly because my uncle had explained sex magick to me along the way of my training. He had only hinted that two men or two women could do things with each other, and I wish he had gone into detail because the two men had struck a cord with me, but I was still a bit slow at figuring what that meant.

I’m not sure what we called it back then. I think it was “being dirty” was what it meant to be gay. And it certainly shocked me that my brother was it! And let’s not forget James. Oddly enough, the first thought that came to mind was that James could do better than my brother. He was handsomer, richer, and certainly much nicer. He could even have me if he wanted!

Now that thought led to an interesting experiment. Henry still pleaded in his sleep for James to suck his cock, to “drain me of my life juices.” I may not be James, but I had been doing just that for about six days now. Now, I was going to try it another way.

I did not need to peel off a lot of clothing as my brother did was many people would not admit to during the warm, early-autumn months which was sleep nude. Well, almost nude. He kept on a pair of light underpants. Today’s underwear is sexy and creative, but in those days you might as well have worn light sweatpants to bed.

I had already tossed off the blanket so I could drain my brother without getting uncomfortable – drinking blood always made me feel very hot, alive, and turned on in several ways. I had always wondered why my cock would harden, because even though my brother was what you would call attractive, with his curly blonde hair and blue, ‘bedroom’ eyes and slender body, he was just too mean to be me to be attractive.
Tonight, though, I was going to explore in a different way. Without any suspense or ritual, I just pulled off his pajama pants. There it was, a throbbing hard member. It was fat and hefty, so it just laid against his stomach and thats why it never stuck out. It was only about six inches, but fat, and covered in shimmering blonde pubic hairs. My brother was about nineteen, so you can imagine how much more developed he was than I.

I touched his cock, and it almost burned my already flaming hot hand. I gripped it and was immediately enthralled with the feeling of blood coursing through it. Had he been awake while I was sucking his blood from his body, and his dick was this hard, he would have been dizzy indeed. I was mentally smacking myself senseless for not having thought to drain him from here before.

“Oh please, James, don’t tease me,” he pleaded softly in his sleep. Because of my control, he was caught in a dream and could not wake up. He was at the mercy of my hand… my mouth… my mind.

I knelt down, my fangs retracted and his previous opening closed before even a drop could escape, and stuck out my tounge. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting it to taste like, but I wasn’t expecting… ambrosia – food of the gods. For the first time, there was something I loved about my brother – his cock.

I sucked his fat, pink head into my mouth. Being from a Christian family (hah!) and from that time, he was uncircumsized. Being nobility, he was thoroughly cleaned and I had no idea that crust and cheese could develop inside of the folds of skin that could cover this delicious, spongy head. Because of this good fortune, my first time working my tongue into a stretchy, tasty foreskin was a clean experience.

Vampires aren’t dead, not at all. Therefore, we are indeed plagued by things like gag reflexes. I could only take the head and about two more inches of my brother’s fat, unbelievably delicious cock before I would gag. My throat just wasn’t big enough. So for almost an hour, I sucked and slurped, licked and tasted, and even nibbled on this beautiful organ of my brother’s. He begged and pleaded with James to finish him off, but this James wasn’t as kind as the other. I wanted this to last.

I had every intention of sucking the blood straight out of my brother’s slab that I could barely wrap my thirteen-year-old hand around, but it came to me that I should do it now. And so, I let the meat falll and slap down on my brother’s flat stomach, exposing the huge vein on the underside.

As always, without waiting and without mercy, I drove my fangs into my brother. Of course, all he felt was pure pleasure as I sucked his blood. The blood tasted no different, but the taste of his cock around it added a whole new dimension to my feeding.

Quickly, his cock deflated. I had enough sense not to drain it too much, or else I might not be able to heal it. The wounds closed and not a single drop of blood spilled on the bedspread. My lips were ruby red like an overly done whore, and his cock was covered with that redness, as if my thickly layered lipstick had gotten all over my prized trophy. I slowly licked his softened cock clean, while Henry whined in his sleep. He did not get release, but he was getting an all new hardon.

I thought that my brother had given me something beautiful – a whole new life. Something altogether brand new to explore for another whole week before I had to leave, and then with anyone I chose afterwards. So I gobbled up as much of his pulsing manhood and set to work sucking with all of my might – which with my recent considerable practice upon his poor circulatory system, that was some might.

It took only minutes before this hot, sweet-tasting flesh began to expand and pulse.

His cock truly tasted of ambrosia, the most delicious thing in all of existance. So, when his cum sprayed into my mouth, filling it before I swallowed greedily, I can only say it tasted like a miracle. Sweet, strong, smooth, with a hint of salt like a rich pasta glaze. Perhaps I am from France or Italy, because the smooth, sweet creaminess of alfredo sauce is the closest thing to how good and delicious THIS life juice was. Now I why even if my brother was the cruellest asshole on earth, James would still be on his knees servicing this manhood.

My brother was sexually sated, but I was not. I had not even had my fill of blood, but I did need my sleep so I cleaned up and set my brother to rights, and slipped off into my room.

My smaller cock was relatively thick, uncut, and about five inches long – it looked a lot like my brother’s which made me all the happier to jerk it off to the point where I let out the greatest orgasm and amount of cum I had yet in my young stages of puberty. Using my finger, I tasted my cum. In the back of my mind, I had a theory. I had tasted my cum before – but I was not a Vampire yet. I was not thrilled, but not disgusted with it. Tasting it now, it was a totally new, almost spicy flavor – totally different from my brother’s, but still just as delicious.

I figured that being a Vampire had changed my tastes, and as I learned throughout my long life, if it was what my body, mind, or spirit craved or needed, my Vampiric instincts would make me crave it, desire it, and love it if I tasted it.

The story I mentioned in the beginning is not this story. You have to understand my origin, before I tell you of the many… “victims” I have drained in more ways than one over the past five hundred years or so.
In my next tale, I will tell you of the last encounter I will have with my brother… and my first and not the last encounter I will have with the beautiful, kind, (and I’m certain – delicious!) James.

Sleep well, my friends. Young, delicious men out there – don’t bother locking your doors and windows if you fear a visit from me. Lock them even if you don’t. I promise, should I visit you tonight, you will gladly open the door for me, and should I allow you to remember (as you will beg me to do, along with sucking the very life out of you if I so wished), I promise – you will love every sweet moment my lips sucking against your flesh.

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