The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Leaving the main road, Mason made his way through woodland and a pathway that meandered round, then upward.



Mason was panting hard as he reached the top, but he knew where he was going, so pressed on. He found himself at the side of a large of a large field, its sheaves of corn cut down, leaving stubble in the ground.



Following the edge of the field round, Mason came to the old Chestnut tree he’d chosen. He swung his shoulder-bag round and, to the ground by its trunk, then he sat with his back to the tree.



Mason sighed, as he looked up to the black sky, littered with pinpricks of gold, white and silver. And, Mason mused as to his motivation, as he enjoyed a smoke.



There were tribes of Native American Indians, where the old and infirm would leave the camp and take themselves into the hills to pass away and, thus they would not be a burden to their family and friends. It was their choice…



“Well…” Mason mused, as he unscrewed the top from his litre of Teachers, “this is my choice…”



He’d had enough of constant pain, the mis-shapen joints, the incessant lethargy, so Mason had emptied his wallet and bought a full bottle of whiskey, specifically for this moment.



Again, he looked up to the sky, grateful that it had not rained, nor did it look like it would.



“That’s good…” he muttered, taking a swig of the Teachers, “I wouldn’t have wanted it to rain tonight. Well… not too hard, that is.”



Mason had brought protection with him, if he’d need it and, he smiled at the idea of being found by the farmer who owned the field he sat in, an umbrella over him.



Mason Kirby had worn his late Father’s olive green ‘car-coat’, its many capacious pockets of great use, normally. But, tonight Mason had his bag, for all that he might need.



Rooting in his shoulder-bag, he found what he wanted, the first of the three boxes of painkillers he’d collected, since ‘things got bad’ and, opening a box, he removed a strip and popped out five pills.



“It’s a good start…” Mason mused with a smile, looking at his open palm and its contents. He popped the pills in his mouth then took a swig of the Teachers, an action that he replicated many times, over four hours.



As his eyes closed Mason looked up and noticed a star moving, fast in an arc, from the horizon on the right and upward and toward him.



“Nah…” he muttered, “can’t be…”



Then the star erupted into light, which illuminated the world before him as he sat open-mouthed. Then as the light diminished Mason saw the plume of whirling debris sweep into then out of the mushrooming cloud.



“The fools, they went and done it…” He sighed, regretting somewhat spending the last of his money on the whiskey.



Then a smile touched his lips as he thought, “Well, unlike most who go this morning, at least I’ll go my way…” And, his dying eyes closed, as the radiation from the blast stripped the flesh from his bones…

Sgt. Broughton, Spiderman and The Chip-Shop





I am what I seem, a loner, who enjoys good company: a loyal person, who believes in fidelity to one’s partner; being fortunate enough to be able to say that I know myself, believe that it’s the Now that it is relevant, not Yesterday, or Tomorrow; as one was, the other still has to be.



Yet more than all that, I believe in family, whatever that is for someone and, the support it can provide.





*



Anyway…



Having learnt what I had at college, I had continued as I had, for awhile, then been called to Roughton’s office. I had been told to go in and wait and, there on the desk had been the report about me, written by The Chester and Cheshire Remedial Society. And, with him out of the office, I stood in front of his desk and did what I can do and, read upside down.



I’d read the results; before Roughton had returned to his office, having ensured that the manila folder I’d read from had been exactly where it had been when I had entered the office.



He was a fellow who looked as though he’d be a flight lieutenant in the RAF during World War, I had figured.



“You do understand, that as these say as they do,” he’d begun, showing me what I’d already read, “We cannot understand why you’re just getting average, without even trying, as it were…”



I’d nodded, then listened intently, as the fellow carried on.



“We’re going to try you with a little bit more pressure, for a week or so, to see how you deal with it, alright?” He had asked, concern evident in his voice, as he looked for my reaction.



As I recall, there had been none from me, other than “I understand” and then, I’d left.



Well, the pressure had been on. And, I hadn’t dealt with it well at all.



So, nine weeks before the exams, I had chosen not to follow the path I’d nearly taken and I had chosen to leave catering college...



*



After Carlett Park, unemployment had been a breeze for a week or so, but then boredom had set in and, for me boredom is dangerous. So I’d been pleased to find a job in a local chip-shop; “Well, it’ll save on fares” Dad had said.



I’d been the first non-Greek to work for the Mother and Son with the Chinese chef, who cooked so well for me, during breaks and lunch that I’d put on three stone, after just five weeks.



Jimmy my short rotund boss in a white coat had a Mother who called me Phosteras, or something like that: and, when I’d quizzed her as to what it meant, she had told me, ‘Professor’. And I still don’t know if what she’d said was the truth, or not. Yet as I’ve said, the food was good.



But I’d had to leave, as the mistakes I’d made on the till and, there’d been many, had come out of my wage packet. That had been bad, but back then I had not dealt with the public well.



And, then there’d been the boyfriend of a friend of mine, big and blonde, a kinda rugby player type, in a leather and, smelling of booze. He had dragged me over the counter after I’d tried to keep in order in the queue, by reminding him, “You’re not next.’ As I say, my retort had not gone down well.



That had been the night I had opened the hatch in the metal counter at the other end of the counter from where most of the queue stood, removed my white coat, then left.



Needless to say, I had to return two days later, for my own single-breasted tweed jacket and my P.45





*



An extensive period of unemployment had followed, but after proving that I wasn’t colour blind, when I am, I got into the police. Now grant you, I hadn’t got into the force that I’d wanted, which had been Merseyside, I had got into Greater Manchester.



But, before I had joined, I had filled in forms, a lot of them. One question I’d answered had led to a discovery and, another name and Life that I’d not known of.



Heck, I recall the day of induction and standing in rows outside the room where we’d have an X-Ray. We’d convinced the tall black female recruit, with a large ‘fro and exquisite eyes, that when the metal plate was put to her chest, her breasts; there’d be a mild electric shock.



I even recall the difficulty one lad had, trying to pee into a cardboard pot, for our medical, having gone, before he’d arrived. It had almost been funny; to watch him drink almost a jug of water, before he’d achieved his goal, eventually.



Needless to say, there had been no shock and, she had left the room with a wide smile and bright white teeth, then hit each of us who had ribbed her, although not too hard.



I also recall the day in the city centre, when a little old lady and walked toward me, scattering pigeon’s, then asked me directions. Well, forgetting that I was wearing black and silver, I’d suggested she ask a policeman.



I recall travelling home from Manchester that first day in uniform, talking to the fellow behind at the kiosk at Liverpool Underground. Suddenly down the long corridor ahead of me group of men ran toward where we chatted.



They had stopped at the end of the counter where the sweets were racked up, gathering armfuls of assorted chocolate bars and candies. And them, they had run back the way they had come.



Abruptly, a young man at the back turned and, looking back he noticed what I wore beneath my own, black trench-coat.



He had noticed the black and the silver and called, “It’s a copper!”



And, as if they were acting as one, the group had stopped, turned round then run back towards were we still chatted, only moderately aware of what had just happened.



They had thrown their chocolate and sweets back where they had gathered them from and, then as I began to appreciate the nuance of their actions, the group had gone, as quickly as they’d at first arrived.



Then there was the brunette Sgt. at Bruche, the training centre in Warrington, in the red Baywatch style swimsuit who had held me against her prodigious bosom and tried to teach me to swim, the police-way.



I hadn’t done very well at it and, spent quite a while in the water, with her holding me, to her prodigious bosom, as I tried to swim, the police-way.



Aye…



Whilst training to be a constable for Greater Manchester Police, I had been stationed at Bruche, Warrington for my police training. The reason I left was also cited as one of the reasons for the place being closed down, some twenty or so years later, students being taught the wrongs thing’s, with institutionalised racism and sexism rife.



As it was, I really left because of one very pompous little man, who stood before us and warned us our job expectations.



Sgt: Broughton:- "Don't expect any help from the public. It's you against them and they’re not going to win." So I left the police, after eleven days.



I did have a consolation, for all I endured in the police.



We were in the classroom environment & he was on the flat-top building across from ours, Central A Division Manchester. It was only months later that I found out why Spiderman was having his picture taken, in all the stereotypical Spiderman poses, when the comic was released. It turns out Manchester was being the backdrop for the publicity work, as it's one of the few cities in England with New York style buildings.

Adult Fiction







*









Cherry’s Day - The Morning





Turning from the closed door, Cherry padded down the carpeted hallway barefoot.

Passing the mirror, she stopped.



She ran her right hand upward through the right side of her bleach-blonde hair as she stared at her reflected self and allowed a slight smile of satisfaction to float across her moist lips.



Considering she was in her early forties, Cherry knew she looked good, in the small grey top and light blue bikini-style briefs, cut high on the thigh.



Her near flat belly, shapely legs and generous bust were enhanced to the eye, by clear tanned skin, bleach blonde hair and blue-eyes. She did have a few freckles; but one fellow had called them ‘sun kisses’ and, she’d liked that.



Tracing the forefinger and middle-finger of her right hand over the tattoo on her left shoulder, Cherry closed her eyes a moment, a smile on her face: she still recalled the somewhat pleasurable pain, that had surprised her sensibilities, to the point where she’d wanted to take action, when she’d become aroused.



‘It’d hardly been the place to bring yourself off,’ she mused, thinking back to the small tattoo studio and, it’s clientele, waiting for her to be finished.



Opening her eyes, Cherry began to caress the loop-nipple-piercings through the grey sleeveless spaghetti-strap tee-shirt, her eyes already ablaze with anticipation.



She smiled, seeing in her reflected image what others saw, usually men.



Then turning from the mirror, Cherry glanced at the clock: ‘Time for a shower…’

She thought with a grin, having already decided she might just be in need of a trim.



“What was his name?” She idly wondered, thinking back to ‘sun-kisses’ man, as her fingers lingers over the banister, as she paused at the bottom step.



“Jack, James, Aaron, Neil…?” ‘It was no good,’ Cherry thought with a grin, “I knew too many I guess…” Then as she began to tread the stairs leading upward, Cherry added thoughtfully, “Or… it could be said, I don’t know enough…”



On the landing she paused and looked over left shoulder at her derriere, “Yep,” she opined, “Lee was right, I do have a nice butt.” He was a friend, a good friend and, she valued his opinion: especially when it was a compliment, he voiced.



Minutes later Cherry carefully shaved and well, as she enjoyed the sensation wrought by her hands on her body, as she closed her eyes a moment, while the warm water fell on her naked flesh.



Abruptly, she opened her eyes, thinking; ‘there was somewhere else to shave.’ So, twisting and turning artfully, Cherry completed her task, shaving her buttocks and, around her anus.



Cherry still enjoyed giving her ass, when it was wanted. Although it might hurt initially, she loved the way a hard length of flesh felt inside her. And, she’d wrap her legs round him, as he rocked back and forth, with steady thrusts, kissing passionately, until he burst away inside her.



Cherry spread her thigh’s a little, the palm of her right hand pressing hard on the inner folds of her labia, while she used the tip of her index finger, to nip the tip of her aroused clitoris with her thumbnail…



And sighing hard, she sank against the shower wall, on shaky legs.



“Time to rinse off, I guess,” she thought ruefully.



Cherry dressed quickly; the kids were at school; she was clean, ‘a misnomer in itself’ she grinned; while the jobs piled up: “Time to get to work,” she said to the silence.



Almost an hour passed without incident. Then, hearing footsteps outside Cherry looked up from the piece she was working on; one of several that would comprise a weddings centrepiece. She’d been working on the idea for two days and spent far too long on her feet and, seen too little fun.



She noticed Rafé walking down the path towards the back door, a stacked pile of boxes in his arms and, held to his broad chest. He was wearing as ever, a white wife-beater tee-shirt and faded and ripped blue-jeans, that hugged his tight butt and thigh’s.



He even wore the same wide smile he always wore when he made deliveries.



The door opened and Rafé entered, all dark hair, flashing brown eyes and that bright wide smile, which acted to brighten her mood, whenever he made a delivery.



“Good day Missus,” he said with his smile beaming and, white teeth well on show.



He set the boxes down, then turned toward her, sweat dripping from his forehead: “Can I use the sink? It’s hot outside and…” he began, as he removed his shades.



Cherry knew it was hot outside, having opened most of the windows and wearing what she’d chosen to wear, to work; her own wife-beater tee-shirt long enough to nearly reach her nearly flat belly and, tight enough to emphasise her generous, full bust and, the gold rings, that ran through each nipple. She wore the tee-shirt with a pair of grey panties that hugged her twin peaches, drawing the viewer to them, rather than her long shapely legs.



Cherry turned and replied, “Sure, you know where the towel is?” And, she realized there and then, just where he was looking.



An attractive blonde in her early forties, Cherry had blue eyes that lit up a room, when she smiled and, suddenly she felt like smiling.



“You like the view?” She asked, teasingly.



“Uh-huh, I guess…” Rafé admitted looking to the tips of his Cats, feeling for a moment, just like a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He turned to the sink, turned on the faucet and placing his cupped hands beneath the water, he splashed his face and neck, soaking his wife-beater and, illustrating just had pumped her deliveryman actually was...



Her right hand to her lips, Cherry giggled.



“Thanks, I needed that!” Cherry admitted, removing her gloves, “it’s been…”



She had been going to say ‘a bitch of a day;’ instead she chose to be polite and did not say how she felt, about the day.



“I’ll just get these in store,” she told Rafé, moving toward the boxes.



“It’s alright Missus, I’ll get them for you…” Rafé told her, gathering them in his arms once more. Once he had Rafé told her Cherry, “Lead on…”



Cherry led him to storage, when the boxes of blooms would sit, till needed. Once they were shelved Rafé turned round, to find his gaze fixed on Cherry’s chest, as she held an iced bottle of Bud out toward him.



“Having cold storage is good for keeping beer, as well as blooms… you want?” Cherry asked Rafé, with a broad smile. She welcomed his interruption. She needed the stock and, the company was… attractive.



Rafé accepted the beer gratefully, holding the can to his forehead.



“You can drink that and keep me company awhile,” Cherry offered, as she led his back to where she’d been preparing the new display. He followed



He followed her, a fixed smile on his face, as her panty-clad derrière held his attention. “I’d like that,” he told her, having decided he appreciated the lazy sway of her quite delightful buttocks.



“I like the tatt,” he told Cherry, as she approached her work: “What’s it mean?”



“Which?” She replied, starting up from where she’d paused, when Rafé had arrived.



“Erm… three?” Rafé considered aloud, “I see two.”



“Well,” as she continued to work away, Cherry told him; “The three dolphins I got when I was about twenty-seven on a whim… I thought they were kinda sexy, still do…”



“Dolphins, I don’t see those…”



“The dolphins are my right hip bone…” Cherry told him: ‘ next to my pubes, if I had them…’ she thought, stifling a giggle before adding, “I still like it though...”



“And the shoulder-piece?” Rafé quizzed.



“Well, the birds in flights on a background of clouds on my back represent a youthful dreaminess I still carry and will never let go of... the gold bell and leaf’s on my arm, is for the Russian side of my family…”



“The bell could represent something else in a way you know?” Rafé began, as he found a place to make himself comfortable, opposite where Cherry worked.



‘It could represent a need to make a noise in the world,’ he considered, sipping at his beer. ‘In my dreams…’ he thought, licking his lips clean of froth.



Then as the warm sun fell on Rafé’s face, he watched Cherry, slowly sipping his beer.



Watching the movement of her butt-cheeks in the cotton hankie, she wore as bottoms he couldn’t help but wonder, ‘I wonder if she knows what I’m feeling right now?”



Intent on her work, Cherry was not stupid, but she did not mind. In fact rather to the contrary: Cherry liked the fact that he was looking as he did and yet, was treating her with respect, so far.



Yet, after watching for nearly ten minutes as he drank, Rafé could take it no more, when he heard Cherry curse.



“Sometimes I’m tired of working,” Cherry snapped, as a thorn pierced her thumb and a drop of blood formed; that she sucked at.



“Yet, I have so much to do and a big day tomorrow...” she told Rafé, briefly looking over her shoulder, “Few would think that being a florist who specializes in weddings can work as hard as I do, but I do: standing all day, making all the pieces…”



“The busy lady needs distraction…” he muttered, standing and setting his beer aside.



Rafé uncrossed his ankles and stood, then walked across the room to stand behind Cherry. Rafé grasped her right shoulder and with his left hand he swept the hair from the left side of her neck, which he kissed softly.



Then drawing back a little he whispered in her ear, “You know, you look good enough to eat?”



Giggling a little, Cherry did not stop working, as she responded, “Do I?”



“Oh yes,” he replied, both hands on her hips, as he sank to his knees.



Grasping the material either side, Rafé eased her panties to the top of her thighs and sat back on his haunches, admiring the view, while Cherry continued to work.



Her buttocks were shapely, her skin clear and unblemished and, Rafé was hungry. He sat forward palming a cheek in either hand, then brought his face to the valley he’d created between her butt cheeks.



“Aw man…” he murmured, inhaling the scent of the woman, “Delightful.”

She smelled slightly musky, but clean and, the hint of passed water only acted to inflame his ardour.



Rafé opened his mouth and began to tongue the blondes skin, licking and lathing at her warm flesh and, Cherry finally allowed herself a response. She sighed, eyelids fluttering; “”Oh yes, that’s nice…” And she arched her back, pushing against his face.



Rafé parted her buttocks a little more then pressed his face further forward, immersing himself in the crease made, his avid tongue searching.



“Ah yes, don’t stop…” Cherry murmured, her eyes closed, fists closed knuckles white; as her nails bit into her palms: work forgotten.



‘I don’t intend to…’ Rafé mused, easing a finger knuckle-deep into her saliva-soaked rosebud and, Cherry sighed long and deep.



Her sighs turned to moans, as one finger became two saliva soaked fingers. And then, suddenly work was finally forgotten, for awhile… As Rafé continued to tongue her, unzipping his jeans as he did so…



“Aw man…” He murmured, staring down, as he guided the crown of his cut hardon to her loosened rosebud.



“Oh god,” Cherry cried out, “you’re so… so… big…” She expressed loudly, then sighed, as he entered then paused a moment, his hands on her hips.



“Now you know why I had to get you ready,” he panted, in answer.



“Oh yes… now I know…” she answered, her words caught, as he thrust forward.



Back and forth and he shunted, right hand on the small of Cherry’s back, as he ran his left hand of her thigh, buttock and back.



Finally he reached her hair and, as they continued their primal dance, sweat dripping from his powerful frame. Rafé pulled on her hair, turning her face to his and his lips found hers.



As his lips possessed hers, his erection possessed her rectum. Yet all too soon, his breathing became laboured and his trembling thighs announced to Cherry what to expect.



Cherry felt his thighs slap against her buttocks, as he rhythmically drove his hips back and forth, his hands on her hips.



Stopping for a moment, Rafé whispered, “Real nice, isn’t it?”



And then Rafé pulled back, till he’d almost withdrawn from her, then thrust forward again and as he slid back home she let out a cry of pain and relief.



Minutes later, his buttocks tightened, his eyes closed and Rafé held Cherry tighter, as a powerful climax swept through him.



She felt him thrust hard, once, twice and panting hard, thrice… as he shot his seed deep inside her and cried aloud, “Oh yes,” exultant.



Then with his delivery made, Rafé groaned loudly. He drew himself from his lover, then kissed Cherry’s right shoulder, “I have to go…”



Adjusting himself back into his jeans Rafé said to Cherry, “Next time you’ll clean me with your tongue, alright?” He zipped up, as her breathing returned to normal and his seed dripped from her gaping anus.



Reaching behind, Cherry drew the tip of her left middle-finger through the creamy-moist folds of her honeypot and upward, coating her finger in his seed that she brought to open waiting lips. She sucked on the fingertip, as Rafé watched.



Then smiling, Cherry told Rafé; “We’ll see what happens, next time you call, okay?”



He looked at Cherry, one last time, before leaving, looking forward to her next delivery; the image of her draped over the work area one he wanted to recall.



As the door closed she looked across to her mobile. In her languorous state, Cherry was almost unaware of the time, but she was. It was time to get showered, again…