Vampire Omicron: Chapter 7 - Bonfires & Baptists - Sex Stories

Vampire Omicron: Chapter 7 - Bonfires & Baptists

... even more, hugging her, gazing into her eyes. She smiles, panting, and hugs me back.

We enjoy the radiant afterglow for a moment, just staring at each other, my cock pulsing a few more times, oozing out the last drops within her pussy. All while the girl beneath us twitches and shakes, seconds away from suffocating in the mud.

“Do it, Kitten. She’s all yours.” Eva’s eyes go wide with gleeful surprise. She embraces me with one more warm hug and kiss, and then rolls over to finish the girl off.

* * *

We watch from the treeline again as the Baptists begin to panic around the fire. They know something is very wrong. People are missing. We see them regroup after several of them failed in their searches along the trails. But Laura, my pregnant cousin, the prized treasure, the reason for this entire mission, she still sits huddled safely in the center of the group. A few people cater to her, helping her get up. They’re preparing to head back to the house. They’re going as one large group. We hear a mention of the cops being called. Someone else continues shouting out names of missing friends. A few of the women are crying, praying. And I notice the dog is missing now.

But before they begin heading back to the house, two figures emerge from the trees, walking straight up to them.

Someone at the fire shouts out, “Taylor! Grace! Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere!” The tension eases on several faces. But not entirely. The people look scared, ...

... confused, their eyes scanning over the two girls.

“Oh we’re fine now. Everyone can sit back down.” Grace’s soft voice replies as the two women continue walking slowly forward. Taylor noticeably stays silent.

“Wh- what happened to you? Is- is that blood?” A guy calls back. A woman next to him covers her mouth in shock.

Grace is covered in mud, blood visibly dripping down her legs. She carries a bag she didn’t have before. Glass clinking within. She’s seemingly fully clothed, but disheveled.

Taylor is just as messy. The thin model-like brunette hobbles on one boot, the other eerily missing. Clothing and hair just as roughed up, black tears of makeup down her cheeks. But worst of all is the blood and teeth-marks covering the singer’s slender neck. Both girls just smile as if nothing’s wrong, continuing their approach.

One of the men at the fire steps forward, “Now stop right there, what in the world is going on!?” He’s the strongest among them. Holding his ground. Confused but strong.

Grace snaps her fingers, a flicker of red in her sweet eyes for just a moment, “Samson, get em.” A booming bark, a blur of black, bounding out from the trees. The great black beast, a massive shaggy German Shepherd mix. Its eyes glowing the same red as its master’s. The man pulls a pistol, fires, point-blank. It does nothing, and the man crumples beneath the hellhound.

The stealth approach has ended. Chaos breaks loose, screams and shouts and more gunfire. Grace lunges forward, tearing ...