Wow, this is going on longer then Iâd thought. Not quite the finale yet, but enjoyable. Almost all sex in this one, so enjoy, the next one is going to have to be almost all plot development.
The day had come and Hate, the vampires, and other assorted people of the night and evening slept. For some this sleep was deep and rejuvenating, especially for the vampires who had no control over the sleep that possessed them. But for Hate it was not as sound. His dreams were always nightmares, and although they did not scare him, they did keep him from reaching that level of true, deep sleep.
He awoke at about noon with a jolt. It was fairly early for him, but not uncommon. His body was stretched out over the bed in the motel-room, arms splayed to the sides and legs crooked at the knees. His cock was as stiff as a rock, jutting straight up into the air. He reached downward to it and lifted his head, closing fingers around thick shaft and beginning to pump it gently.
He laid his head back down as he continued to tight-fisted jerk his member into the air. After a moment he released his cock from his hand and growled, sitting up again. He could rarely get off from masturbation anymore.
He looked around the room. All traces of the trucker from the night before had been removed. Hate had the ultimate in forensic clean up, being able to disintegrate bodies and pretty much any material he had too. It had been exhausting though, and he had fallen asleep early.
Now he was awake and horny. As the room was filled with light, he guessed it to be early to mid afternoon. It would be awhile before those fucking vampires woke up, so he would have some time to find some pussy.
The question at hand, of course, was where this pussy was to be found. Hate was new to this town, and he didnât know itâs haunts well at all. He supposed it would be easy enough to find some whores, but he decidingly hated paying for sex, even if he was only going to kill the girl afterwards.
He slid around and got out of bed. A quick glance located his jeans and he went to them, putting them on, along with his shoes.
Then he walked to the door, and stepped outside. The light was bright and annoying, so one hand went to his brow to shield his eyes, the other grasping the handle to the door and shutting it.
He paused for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust more clearly to the light. Now, if I were a slut, where would I be? He leaned back against the door, contemplating this question. A cigarette was drawn from a pocket, and he flipped a zippo out from the opposite, lighting the cancerous cylinder.
Where do the most worthless people congregate? He thought.
* * * * *
Cynthia Alvarado and Sheila McCreary were friends, and they were both girls, but that was about where the similarities ended. They had grown up on the same street, and thus due to proximity had remained close
Cynthia was Hispanic and had always been the more attractive of the two. The ringlets of her black hair cascaded down to mid-back and framed her thin face. Brows were drawn on with a slight arch over mocha-brown eyes, and full lips were done up in purple lipstick that was found attractive or gaudy, depending on who was looking.
Her skin was the color of caramel, and free of blemish, exposed completely from her face all the way down to the large swells of her bosom, currently threatening to spill out from her body-hugging tube-top.
Voluptuous ass swayed in a mini-skirt that ended just where the upward curve of her rear began, and revealed long, toned legs, bare of any clothing, the smooth flesh exposed to any who would look.
Sheila was thin in a manner that was not attractive; almost emancipated. The lack of weight was from starvation as opposed to exercise and diet. Being more specific, she had a small, sharp face with no obvious features that might be used to define her. Dirty blonde hair was shorn short, worn with no design, sticking a few inches out of her head at odd intervals.
A t-shirt covered her upper-half, outlining her thin shoulders and small chest, her breasts only subtle rises raising the cloth. Jeans covered the bottom, and the rest of her was as unimpressive; thin legs and sharp, bony hips.
Walking through the mall as they were, many eyes fell in their general direction. Of course, all of these eyes were looking at one of two things. Cynthiaâs ass, or if they were ahead of the girls, then Cynthiaâs tits.
âGod, why do we even come here anymore? I hate all these staring dicks,â Sheila said.
Cynthia smirked, tilting her head down slightly too look at Sheila. She was a few inches taller. âI know, baby, but you know that I happen to love the staring,â she said, then added, âand the dicks.â
âWell, Iâm not going to mess with any mall rat you find,â Sheila said with some anger, looking back up to her companion, eyes flashing. âWhy am I not good enough for you?â
Cynthia stopped walking, grabbing Sheila by the shoulders and turning her so they faced each other. âIâve told you baby, you are enough. I love you, you know that. I just want to love some other people too. But youâre always first.â She leaned down, and pressed her soft lips against Sheilaâs thin, unsmiling mouth.
For a moment there was no response, but then Sheilaâs mouth kissed back, and opened, sending her tongue just a bit forward where it was met with Cynthiaâs. The kiss was enough to dissolve Sheilaâs fight. She had no attraction to men, and further, she loved Cynthia, and had for as long as she remembered. Nothing would please her more then existing in a monogamous relationship with the other girl.
Cynthia loved Sheila, but was not absolved of the attraction to men. Sheila was the only girl for her, the only love, but she could not stop from roaming. She needed sex, hot sex, with good looking guys. Although Sheila argued with her about this need every so often, Cynthia knew she held the cards, and so she used them whenever she pleased.
The lesbian kiss lasted for at least a minute, and drew the eyes of several of the mallâs customers. Hate was among them.
* * * * * * âWhat the fuck is this?â Hate asked as he watched the scene, a slice of Sbarroâs cheese pizza held in one hand, drawn a few inches away from his mouth.
He watched and took a bite. His member was still rock hard and he had yet to find any relief. The scene of homosexual love was not encouraging. He took another bite and set his slice back on the plate, watching the two women, one attractive and one not, as they finished their embrace.
* * * * * *
âAre we okay, babe?â Cynthia asked.
âYeah. Go ahead and find some dick,â Sheila said with a sigh.
Cynthia smiled, and then turned her eyes to the food court. She hadnât really seen a guy that met with her expectations, as low as they were. She hadnât really been looking though, having spent most of her time convincing Sheila that this entire idea wasnât out of the question. Well, you she never knew when her girlfriend might have a change of heart, so she quickly looked out to the food court. Wouldnât you know, Hate was the first boy who caught her brown eye.
Hate was attractive, most girls would think so. He had the sharp features and the perfectly symmetrical face that could easily land him a modeling job. He wasnât too big, but that wasnât a problem, he was just thin, and there was a little bit of practical muscle on him.
âOh God, not that guy,â Sheila moaned as Cynthia locked in and began moving towards Hate. The boy himself just smiled as the attractive dark-skinned beauty made her way towards him, followed close in tow by what Hate regarded as a more classic lesbian; ugly. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.
âHey there, ladies.â He said with quiet ease as they neared him.
âHello yourself,â purred Cynthia, pulling up a chair and dropped herself into it. Sheila remained a small distance behind. âIâm Cynthia.â
âIâm Frank Castle,â Hate responded, not giving his chosen name. He decided this girl might take too much warning from his namesake, despite the palpable lust that hung around her body. His gaze had moved from her face to her cleavage, where they remained.
âLike something you see, Frank?â Cynthia asked, enjoying his wandering eye.
Hate knew the girl was horny. He could quite literally smell the sex on her. He leaned forward and stood from his chair, a hand pushing forward and slipping down the front of Cynthiaâs top, greasy ( from the Pizza ) fingers finding her large, soft tit and giving it a tight squeeze.
Sheila gasped at the brazenness of it, and even Cynthia was about to give some shocked dismay, but she was quieted suddenly with a vision. Hate opened her eyes to the pleasure she would experience, not wasting time with words of seduction.
Cynthia saw herself, and the boy calling himself Frank, in a variety of quick, lurid situations. First she was on her back, the boy on top, breath hot on her face as he held himself above her, pounding down into her slick cunt.
The next she was bent over, screaming to God as he reamed her from behind. In reality Hateâs fingers found a hard, thick nipple and tweaked it. He shot his mental pleasure through the girl, and she raised both her hands to cover her mouth,
Her orgasm was quick and shocking. Her thighs spasmed as she creamed her panties, biting down on her fingers to keep from calling out. It ended quickly, and Hate pulled his hand from her shirt.
Sheila walked up and touched the side of Cynthiaâs bare shoulder. âLetâs get out of here,â she said, with some anger in her voice.
âOkay. But heâs coming with us.â
Sheila protested, but it wasnât long before the three of them were back at Cynthiaâs apartment.
* * * * * *
Sheila turned the TV up louder, but it was to no avail. Cynthia wouldnât stop screaming from the other room. Muffled cries of âfuck me!â and the usual cries to deities could not be contained.