'Umph!' The girl in front of him murmured, as she turned a little and one of her soft nipples brushed his lips. And for a moment he remembered Sunside. He saw it in the eye of his mind, a reflection from the screen of his impaired memory: a misty riverbank in the still of evening, not far from Brad Berea's lonely cabin in the forest. The place where Brad's homely daughter Glina - an innocent in her own right, mainly - had taught him what little he knew and used his body for her pleasure, while in turn giving him pleasure.
It had not been love (not on his part) but lust. Perhaps not even that, but need. For he was a young man, and his body an engine geared to life. But that was then and this was now, when his needs were the amplified needs of the Wamphyri! What had been a pulse, a throb, a fire in his blood ... was now an agony, a driving force, the cap of a volcano straining against the pent pressures of the magma core. And these girls were not homely but very lovely. They were vampires with vampire stuff in them, which had changed and enhanced them, even as it now enhanced Nestor's emotions - specifically, his lust.
He sucked the girl's nipple into his mouth, felt it grow hard, and grew hard himself between her thighs. Still sleeping, she snatched air in a sharp gasp, parted her legs, reached down and guided him in. Her wet core was like an automatic thing, a creature in its own right; its slippery sheath sucked at Nestor like a pouting mouth, so that he need hardly move at all! Reaching down, he pushed at the second girl's hip until her leg slid off his thigh, then parted her bush and sought her bud with his fingers. Her reaction was instinctive, immediate. Gasping, she opened herself, reared against him, and sucked at his hand. It was drawn in to the wrist, where the neck of her vulva tightened on him like a soft leather sleeve.
Nestor wanted to feel the girl he was in, to explore and know all of her. He freed his hand from the furry trap behind him and heard the girl moan. She was waking up. He rolled onto the one he faced and took the initiative, driving deeply into her flesh as if to split her. She, too, was coming awake. The free girl was kissing his ear, the tips of her pided tongue licking and wriggling inside it, while her hand moved between his legs, rolling his balls in her palm.
His tongue was drawn down a convulsing throat. Resilient breasts flattened under his chest and he squeezed their bulge with his upper arms. The second girl was now kneeling between his legs, rubbing Nestor's back with her breasts; her hands were under him and his partner, toying and teasing around the area of their sexual organs, manipulating both of them. Nestor moaned, wanting it to last, but it couldn't. And when he came it was as if fire jetted from him, which also activated an orgasm in his frantically writhing partner.
'Mine now!' sighed the second girl, catching his hips and rolling him over. And still jerking, trickling semen, drowning in the sweet, singing agony of his flesh, Nestor felt her sucking mouth come down on him, eager for the last drop. Then:
'Fuck me! Me now!' she gurgled, sliding her small, pointed breasts up his chest in a trail of semen from her mouth, lowering her moistly shuddering flesh onto his shaft, and shuffling her tight round backside in an ecstasy of erotic motion until he had slithered in ...
So it continued, and at least one of Nestor's needs was satisfied, but neither the first nor the last of them. A need, then, and the needs of his vampire women, too. A rare day when they'd enjoyed Vasagi's so-called 'lovemaking' - feeling his organ expanding into their bodies to fill them, while his hollow siphon proboscis of needle-tipped chitin slid into breast, neck, cheek or root of tongue, to draw off blood and heighten his unthinkable pleasure - but they had enjoyed Nestor's. So had Nestor, despite that only one need had been served ... so far.
And when finally exhausted all three lay still, still his hunger was there, like a raw red wound inside him. Some of the metamorphic ache of flesh and bones hadsubsided, yes, or been dulled by excess; but as Nestor drifted into a second, deeper sleep, his nameless hunger remained ...
... And was absent when he woke up.
Replete, he started awake! Grig's hand was on his shoulder. And Grig's mouth was a dark hole in his grey face, open as if a hinge had snapped in his jaw!
'What?' said Nestor. And then he saw what.
His women had not woken up. The one with the small, firm breasts lay there, breathing but feebly, ashen and cold, completely exposed where Grig had laid back the bedcovers. But the other was motionless, corpse-like, without a breath of life in her body.
And: 'What?' Nestor said again, trying to understand.
That one, Maria, will live, Lord,' Grig told him, pointing at the ashen one. 'But the other, Carmen ... she must sleep for some time.'