"Not a hunter of things bright-colored and winged, of creatures whose cries rend the night
air with echoing banshee wail....My people know nothing of your kind, perhaps because we pontianaks
do not give birth. Our Malaysian sisters the langsuyars can be captured, and bear the fruit of
human seed, but their young do not stalk them or their kind. Why do you do so...was your father
so unkind to your mother that ridding the world of his kind is so essential to your being?"
With her last words, Tia slid one lathered hand around my hip-bone and down toward my pelvis,
stopping just shy of my waiting aching penis. Letting her fingertips dig lightly into the flesh
of my lower belly, she came closer to me, so that I could again feel the twin pressure of her
breasts (this time bared to the puckered nipple) against my back; her breath was a round warm
spot on my upper back as she whispered close to my body:
"Or was your father so wonderful, so unapproachable, that you hunt his kind out of covetousness?
Because no man of flesh can best a man of mist and pure passion?
Taking one steadying hand off the slippery tiles and covering hers with it, I leaned back gently
against her, and said, "I never knew him...but until the day she died, my mother couldn't
forget him, or stop speaking of him...Does that qualify as jealousy? Envy?" I tried to guide
her hand lower, but her flesh and submerged bones were seemingly rooted in that spot. "I
never thought of him on that way...and I don't dispatch every vampire I meet. I don't need to.
only the greedy or selfish ones. The ones who hurt instead of bringing pleasure and life after
life for those who seek it out. What kind are you Tia? One who feeds for the sake of filling
herself or one who simply takes? I've heard of your kind emasculating a man-literally, or figuratively?
Will your fingers dig deeper, or open to form a clawing rake?"
 They
did neither; instead, she slipped her hand out from under mine, and then pulled it toward her
hidden spot.which, when touched, revealed far more plumpness under the labia than might be expected
- as well as the unmistakable jutting hardness of a tiny, half hidden penis surmounting the well
of deeper warmth within. Turning around, I saw her standing there, head bowed under the pulsing
stream of water, so that her hair hung down in a glistening straight sheet of purest black.where
it formed a natural part, baring her back, and the small, deeply indented hole which rested parallel
to her breasts on the opposite side of her torso..her so overtly feminine torso-
From under that drape of hair, she whispered in a voice so liquid, so softly feminine, I could
barely hear it through the pummel and splash of the waters, "Did your mother miss your fathers
kisses? ..
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c) Renee M. Charles. All Rights Reserved, shown with permission from Cecilia Tan, Editor of Erotica
Vampirica
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