One block off of the debauchery of Bourbon Street, the palette of New Orleans ran with different, darker colors. Gaslights danced in the nighttime hush, and the French architecture crowded close, strangely intimate in its constriction.
Not ten minutes before, I had watched a blue-orange flame lick a sugar cube atop my absinthe glass. But I drank the ghostly green mist too quickly. There were not enough people to make it comfortable in the old bar, and eyes from the shadows kept finding their way onto me.
As I walked, an odd notion that I was searching for something threaded through my mind. I was much too aware of my cock as well. I suppose it had been days since I had any release, and my desire had crossed that threshold where the erotic truly began to sing to me. I tried not to think of the slow, luxurious electricity. I fought dreams of surrendering my gasping, secretive places to the slow sensuality of lips and licks that made fists pull at the sheets.
When I thought I heard someone say my name behind me, I first dismissed it as more fantasies. But I did finally glance behind.
I saw her eyes first. Even from that distance. Dark with the kind of beauty that curls itself around your neck and lovingly squeezes off your ability to breathe. Her beauty made me ache. I felt weak, instantly bewitched. She stood in a doorway and flickered under the gaslights.
I watched her lips move and caress the sounds that formed my name.
Either the buildings slipped, or I was walking toward her.
When I stood with her, I couldn’t believe a woman like her could truly exist. Her eyes looked down, and it felt like warm fingers encircling my cock.
I throbbed. Slow and hard. I already wept with wetness that touched me with little cold, thrills.
“Come inside,” she said.
And I did. Unquestioningly, I did.
The need in my cock now pumped through every vein and artery. I felt my pants yanked down. I heard a low, lusty growl, and my cock muscles contracted and did not ease.
I swelled. Immense. Unflinching. Unnatural.
I never felt anything like it—as if the most powerful orgasm my body could ever hope to produce was frozen in time at the monumental moment before release.
She pushed me onto some kind of table top and slipped her hands under my ass to lift my cock higher.
I was lolling. Dissolving. Prey in her hands.
She whispered forbidden incantations to my cock. She brushed me with her lips. She breathed freezing, titillating air. And all the while, my cock grew. I was grunting, moaning, crying out.
Pleading.
Then, with the most beautiful, liquid gesture, she curved her neck, tipped my hips even higher, and brought her lips to the most holy of all erotic sensitivities on the underside of my cock.
Buttery pleasure washed over me as she penetrated there with elegantly thin vampire teeth.
My body convulsed.
I was flying upward in my mind. Crashing through the cold expanse of the moon. Whisking by the outer planets. I blurred back through time as my cock screamed until I crashed into the molten, dense impossibility of when the universe was about to be born.
Then, howling and digging groves in the table with my fingernails, I came.
My cock rocketed. I came came came came.
She growled to drink me.
I heard her own ecstasy as she consumed mine.
My life, my seed, filled her.
It seemed like forever as the orgasm wrung vicious pleasure from every living cell in my body.
And when she pulled away at last, she laughed wickedly and kissed me, this time on the lips.
Before I fell into a long sleep, I heard her say, “come to me again.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9z3avc/new_orleans_m_f_vampire