The third day of your honeymoon finds us sitting at your kitchen table, using the knives my parents gave you as a wedding gift to whittle wooden stakes from broken chair legs. I spent my whole life in love with you, and even allowed myself a brief moment of hope that you might return my affection one drunk morning when we crossed over the line between friendship and something more.<br><br>Then you went and got married. To a vampire.<br><br>When you called me for help killing her, how could I say no?

Til Death

At some point I released my own dick and just worked yours, memorizing every vein, every bump, every nook and crevice. I’d recall them the next time I got off, each one, the way you felt in my hand, between my legs, against my cock. Now this was your time, and you began to buck beneath me, pushing into my hand, your breath hot against my neck. Your hands clawed my stomach. “Yes, yes.”


A hot rush filled my palm, more beer than cum. Before I even pulled away, you were curling into me again, already falling back to sleep. I used your juices to finish the job I’d started with myself—smearing my erection with your jizzle, I held you against me and humped your slumbering form until I, too, found release.


Chapter 3