Ghoulfriend Part 1 by tyhm
I wrote this for a girl I was courting. It didn’t work. Still, she enjoyed it…. , Hmkay…let’s see…
Once upon a time there was a cute goth girl who believed in vampyres. A lot of her friends believed in vampyres, or at least liked to dress up like vampyres, but this girl BELIEVED in them. The way little kids BELIEVE in Santa.
And she knew, deep in the cockles of her cold broken heart, that someday a vampyre would come for her, when she was at her most eternally beautiful, and seal her away from time forever, to elevate her to the caste that feeds on her mere mortal peers.
In time she would come to wish she’d thought it out better, but at the time it was a perfectly sensible dream to her. It wasn’t that she hated her life per se; she just didn’t think anything in it could stack up to an eternity of feeding on the weak.
Time passed, and her friends grew out of their various phases; but the cute little goth girl didn’t. Every year she grew a little darker, a little fairer, a little more perfect, and every year she Believed her guardian vampyre was coming for her.
One night – because there’s always one night, sooner or later – when she’d drank a little too much wine to try and forget the last man to break her heart, she decided it would be a fine idea to visit the graveyard. She always felt better in the graveyard. The dead are good listeners.
She drove to the graveyard, which probably wasn’t a great idea, but she was a bit past caring if she lived or died or took anyone with her, and walked among the headstones for a while before moving off to her favorite part, the statuary garden. She always liked to save the best for last, and she could feel the wine going to her head.
So it was that she didn’t notice she wasn’t alone when she reached the garden, and she wasn’t alone when she kissed the angel at the entrance full on the lips, and she wasn’t alone when she cried on the shoulder of the one she called the professor. It isn’t until she is yelling at the one that kind of looked like her newest heartbreak that she notices; and that was only because the stranger introduces herself.
“I see we have some common friends,” the stranger says formally.
The girl spins around, gets a little dizzy, and sits down hard, her vision swimming. Dimly she can make out the stranger indicating the angel, dark lipstick smeared across the stone face. “Who’re you?” she slurs, bare feet tangling in her long velvet dress as she struggles to stand.
“Oh come now, don’t ask silly questions. You know who I am, just as I know who you are Zoe. I’m your guardian vampyre.”
Just then the full moon comes out from behind a cloud, illuminating the stranger; her dark eyes and sensuous lips, her long, straight, silky black hair, flawless alabaster skin, bare shoulders, tightly corseted curves, and intricate gown leaving quite the impression on the drunk girl.
“Alright. So where’re your fangs?”
“Again with the silly questions. This is going to take all night. I hate to rush things, but the sun Will rise eventually. Look into my eyes, won’t you?”
The girl does as she is told, gazing deep into the stranger’s eyes. The dark eyes are mysterious, entrancing, the division between pupil and iris impossible to find, and as she gazes she can feel herself rising gracefully to her feet.
“Now, is there anything else you’d like to do before you leave this mortal world?”
“…y-yes…mistress…”
“Name it.”
The girl blushes furiously, even compelled as she is, the words and idea so foreign to her but also so right.
“…I…I want…I want you, mistress…”
The stranger cocks an eyebrow, smirking playfully. “Do you mean sexually? The world is your oyster and you want to have relations with a vampyre?”
She blushes even deeper, but the alcohol gives her resolve. “Yes, Mistress. I’ve never been with a woman…and I want you.”
“You know, obviously, that you can try this from both sides?”
The girl nods her head firmly, and the stranger rolls her eyes, surrendering to the madness.
“Whatever Zoe, it’s your afterlife. I’ll take the lead, if it’s all the same to you” says the stranger, striding forward confidently, heels clicking on the cobblestones and then rustling in the grass.
“Please,” says the girl as she surrenders to her strange new companion.
The vampyre wraps her arms around the girl gently, one arm encircling her corseted waist while the other pets her cheek fondly as she stands face to face with her prey, the girl’s breath warm and frantic on her cold, impassive but soft skin.
As the stranger leans in to kiss her Zoe closed her eyes, surrendering as the stranger’s fingers runs through her hair, pulling her in tight to a passionate kiss, their full breasts pressing against each other, corsets straining to contain them as the younger girl grinds eagerly against her new lover, shame and taboo forgotten in the heat of the moment under the watchful dead eyes of the graveyard statues.
Zoe whimpers softly into the kiss as the vampyre expertly twirls her without breaking the kiss, the stranger’s cool wet tongue wrestling with hers as the girl is arched backwards against the vampyre’s ample chest. She feels the preternatural fingernails tracing lightly down her chin to the front laces of her corset, the sharp nails easily slicing through the silky ribbon like a razor without so much as scratching the girl’s soft living skin. Before the vampyre’s hand has even passed her navel the elaborate garment gives up and falls away, baring her exquisite breasts to the cold night air, the girl moaning a weak protest into her lover’s mouth before surrendering once more to the passion.
The vampyre breaks the kiss at last, kissing across her cheek to her neck, lingering hungrily for a moment before whispering into her ear “be as loud as you want; there’s no one for miles, I checked.” She then begins squeezing Zoe’s full, firm breasts, kneading them with preternatural strength that belies the delicateness of her hands, a strange pleasure building in the girl’s drunken body.
Zoe whimpers a little as the impossibly sharp nails pinch her delicate, incredibly sensitive nipples, leaning her head back on her lover’s shoulder in surrender as the blade like fingernails scrape the surface without drawing blood, pinching and tugging with unparalleled skill, the pain and pleasure overwhelming. “Yes,” she whispers into the darkness, “yes.”
“Mm, you’re just about ready to burst…are you sure you can handle this Zoe? I don’t want you to be cross with me for eternity for freezing you in time only After driving you mad.”
“P-Please” she begs weakly, “Just d-don’t stop”
“As you wish” says the stranger, fingernails deftly shredding her skirt to the hip, baring her lacy panties.
Zoe begins moaning loudly, panting hard as the vampyre softly and slowly runs her strong, delicate fingers down her stomach, down the V of her hips in a slow, shuddering, smoothing motion, and finally runs one finger rhythmically along her slit through her panties. The girl shudders and moans louder, bucking her hips eagerly against the firm digit, feeling her expertly built climax about to break free.