I probably should point out that I'm not anti-religious -- every modern religion teaches peace and love, and the repudiation of hate. Unfortunately, there are preachers, rabbis, and imams who claim hate and fear to be the message of their god; and, even more unfortunately, there are people who believe them. So, I'm nowhere close to repudiating the God of Christianity in this story; but hate-mongers who claim to speak for Him are fair game.

This story is gay fiction. It is copyrighted and cannot be reproduced in any medium without my express permission. If you are a minor in your country of origin, don't read.

I have two other series running on Nifty: GLOBAL ENTERTAINMENT appearing in the Incest folder and ILLUSIONS in the Beginnings folder. If these two stories don't give you enough hot vampires and mortals, Starbooks has just released my LOVERS WHO STAY WITH YOU, and that has 28 tales that'll have you offering your neck to the next guy who offers to lick it. <G> You can help Nifty by using its link to A Different Light bookstore when buying this book.

I'd love to hear from you -- tell me what you think of this story, Illusions, or Global Entertainment. Just please put the title of the story in the subject box so that I won't delete your message along with all the spam I get. I'm at vichowel@aol.com.

Dave MacMillan




Something didn't feel right around me. It had been enough to awaken me. I was curled up on the top step of the stairway, the banister my support.

"But, Mr. Sam," Henry pleaded from somewhere below me, his voice distant, "I didn't know he was going to do it. He had his butt on it before I understood what he was going to do."

A moment later, he continued again. "I don't know anything about him not wanting to see you, Mr. Sam. I really don't. Mr. Euston told him you were a vampire and he sort of froze up right then ... But he seemed to relax then and was okay with it."

A moment passed before Henry whined: "I don't want to go up there and wake him, Mr. Sam. I like Sammy. I don't want to piss him off ... He'll be mad at me for putting you two together if he really doesn't want to see you."

I'd woke up enough to figure that Henry was having a conversation with the blond who'd been fucking me, a conversation that was all one-sided from what I was able to overhear of it. I reckoned that telepathy stuff the blond used with me was only directed at the person he wanted to talk to. It'd sure keep eavesdroppers guessing if people could ever harness it.

I stood up and started down the stairs. I didn't want Henry being browbeaten for something I did.

I stood in the doorway of the large living room but could only make out indistinct shapes in the dark.

"He's down here?" Henry yelped from near the mantle.

I hit the wall switch and stepped inside the room. Henry stood at the mantle and the blond was on the deck just outside one of the French doors. "What's up?" I asked both of them, pretending to ignore that the blond was stark naked and that Henry only had on a pair of useless boxers. Henry was hard and his dick had found the slit of those boxers, the thin cotton wasn't covering anything it was supposed to. "Other than those logs you two are sporting, I mean."

Henry jerked and the blond smiled.

|Hi, Sammy,| he said.

"Can Henry hear you when you're talking to me?" I asked.

|What do you mean?|

"I could only hear Henry upstairs. I couldn't hear you when you were talking to him. So, I'm wondering if he can hear you when you're talking to me."

The blond frowned. "I'll use my voice when I'm talking to both of you at the same time then," he said in a twang that I could cut with a knife.

"That'll work," I told him and looked at Henry. "You're up a little late, aren't you?"

Henry looked over at the blond. "He woke me up and made me come up here. Said you'd closed him out and he needed me to get you to open up."

I steeled myself and looked over at the blond. I mean, I studied the fucker. This was supposed to be a hundred-year-old vampire, right? I didn't believe it, of course; but I did want to see if there was any sort of telltale signs -- at least something strange like maybe a cape or something.

There wasn't anything I could see. He didn't look any older than Henry and only a little more developed.

But, boy, there was that twang! Nobody talked like that any more.

Henry sounded Southern, now that I was thinking about accents -- more Southern than what I was used to in Atlanta. Ralph and Euston were even more pronounced than Henry was -- but neither one of them sounded like a bluegrass banjo like this boy did.

The blond looked at me, his blue eyes seeming to bore right into me. "I was born and raised before radio and television, Sammy," he said slowly. "This is the way folks talked here in the Appalachians a hundred years ago."

He tried a smile, but it didn't work. He let it sink. "I haven't actually spoken to anybody in more than fifty years. It'll take me a while, but I'll make my voice sound more like yours."

My ears burned. I was sure my face had gotten too close to the fire, too. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I was looking for some kind of difference -- something that would make it plain that you weren't just some guy Henry's age." I shrugged. "And why don't you come on inside. It's getting a bit chilly in here with that door open."

The blond stepped into the room and the door shut behind him without him touching it. "You aren't going to find anything different, Sammy. Unless you want a show of strength -- I'm a lot stronger than you and Henry combined." He did smile then, those blue eyes twinkling.

Maybe he was a vampire and maybe he wasn't. Even if he was pulling my chain, I could get lost in those eyes. In that body for that matter.

He laughed and I felt him in my head. It was a strangeness that I knew wasn't mine and didn't belong.

"Let's have an understanding here and now," I told him. "No matter what you are, stay out of my head."

Henry stared at me like I'd just lost my marbles.

Maybe I had, but I wanted my actions to be mine alone, not somebody else's.

"Is that a condition for you being willing to keep on fooling around with me, Sammy?"

"Jesus!" I groaned. "You sure do cut right to the bottom line, don't you?"

He chuckled. "I never did like poker; though I was pretty good at it. If everybody would put their cards face up at the beginning, nobody's liable to get hurt. It's all that pretending and stuff that gets a man confused."

I looked at him. "No more games then, okay?" He nodded. "Who are you?" I demanded.

He grinned. "Exactly who and what Euston told you I was."

"You're Sam Adams Taylor, the first?" My voice didn't sound like I was dumbstruck. I almost believed it. Almost. Well, maybe more than just almost.

"In the flesh."

"How come you look like you're twenty?"

"I told you that I was what Euston said I was."

I kept my gaze on him, hoping that he'd somehow prove it. "Vampires aren't real."

"I'm real all right." He grinned. "Come over here and put your hand on my tallywacker, Sammy. That'll show you I'm real."

"No, it won't. It'll only prove that whoever you are is real."

He pursed his lips. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?" he asked moments later.

Shit! How does a demon who looks just like a well-endowed man prove he's not a man? "Vampires feed on blood," I mumbled. "They're supposed to have long, sharp canine teeth, too," I continued, looking at his face. "I've french kissed you. I didn't cut up my tongue doing it."

"They retract, Sammy," he grumbled. "Shit, come over here and look me in the mouth like I was a damn horse or something."

I stepped up to him, and he dropped his lower jaw, forming his face into something of a snarl so that his lips moved back further than usual. I gasped and stepped back when I saw them. The fuckers hung down almost to his lower jaw and they did come to a point. They looked sharp.

"Feel them, Sammy -- just be careful not to cut yourself."

I reached my hand out tentatively. I didn't know if I wanted to touch his incisors or not. I definitely didn't know if I liked getting this close to knowing that he was something that I'd never believed existed. I extended my index finger slowly and he leaned toward me. I touched the damned tooth. It felt real but, then, I'd never gotten into teeth. It sure wasn't plastic, though. I pushed a little and it didn't give like it would if it was loose. I figured it'd be loose if it was fake.

"You woke up pretty tired this morning, didn't you, Sammy?" he asked.

I nodded.

"If you'd sucked yourself off this morning like you did last Saturday, you'd have seen the puncture wounds right beside your balls." He smirked at me as I felt myself blushing. "In just about the same place as the ones last week were."

I did step back then, almost tripping on the end table beside the sofa. "You fed on me?" I yelped. I suddenly felt -- well -- drained. I had to fight myself to keep my hand out of my boxers where it would feel for puffed up mounds of skin where he'd bitten me. The fact that I was accepting him for what he said he was whizzed by me unnoticed.

The blond looked disgusted. "I feed on all the men and boys on the mountain. Just a little bit from two or three of them in a night is all I need. It doesn't hurt them none."

"Don't they have anything to say about it?" I demanded.

He looked at me like I'd blurted out the stupidest thing possible. "Why should they?" he asked. "They're rich -- their daddies are -- because I made them so. They've got nice homes because I made it possible for their daddies or granddaddies to build them. I make sure every boy and girl on this mountain lives the best way possible. And the boys are the healthiest boys in America. All I want is a little blood."

"And a lot of nookie," I grumbled. "Is there a boy over twelve here you haven't buttfucked?"

He chuckled. "I think I hear you saying that I live by the old adage that nookie's nice but incest's finer."

"Don't you?" I shot back.

"Sammy, every girl on this mountain is a virgin on her wedding night -- or before she goes off to college, at any rate. Most of them come back to hook up with a Taylor boy and understand they've got to be virgins if they want one. No boy on this mountain goes tomcatting with the girls down in the hollow, either." His lips thinned as he frowned, and I saw the bottoms of those incisors. "That's my damn money in the foundation! It's for my damn family! I'm not about to let any of that white trash in the hollow get their hands on it through a paternity suit."

"So, all the boys help each other out -- with you breaking in each one of them?"

"Nothing wrong with it. It's just the damn church wanting to keep women saddled with as many babies as they can have that's gone and made it a bad thing."

"And you play with their heads to make them think they're enjoying it. Just like you did with mine."

"Not too much. Just enough to make sure it doesn't hurt." He glanced over at Henry. "Most of the boys on the mountain sort of look forward to it happening, don't they, boy?"

Henry nodded.

"It's almost a rite of passage thing for the young bucks up here."

"I'm sure that makes you feel good about plugging them -- your own great-grandsons." I was being catty and knew it. I mean -- fuck it! -- this guy didn't have the right to lure every kid on the mountain into dropping his underwear and bending over. Even if he was a vampire. Especially because he was a vampire.

"You want me to leave it to their older brothers to break them in?" He wagged his head. "Sammy, that shit hurts the first couple of times you let a boy shove it in there." He frowned. "Remember this morning when you were taking Henry?"

I nodded and tried to pretend were scalding they were so hot.

"Only, these boys don't get hurt. They love it -- just like you did."

This blond man -- my great-grandfather if I was going to believe him and I knew I pretty much did -- was the Taylor Mountain equivalent of Don Juan. He wasn't the least bit repentant about his conquests. Part of me was repelled by the incest and pedophilia that existed just below the surface of his position. But it was only a small part of me. Most of me was damned pissed off that he thought it was his right to shove that hose into anybody's butt other than mine.

I'd somehow come to think of him as being mine. I'd come to see our sex as something more than just sexual coupling. Fuck it! If I was going to be queer, I wanted it to be with my man.

It didn't make sense. I knew it. Shit! Henry was standing right there with his dick sticking out of his boxers and starting to droop with the lack of action. I'd fuck him in a heartbeat, and it wouldn't take much convincing to get me to spread my legs again for him. Yet, here I was pissed off that this blond was dicking other guys. It didn't make sense at all.

He was standing between the mantle and the French doors; then, he just sort of zoomed across the room to stand beside me. Zoom like a telephoto lens on a camera zooms. He hadn't walked; he'd made no physical move. Yet, he'd crossed the room.

His hand touched my shoulder. My skin felt so hot against his. My fingers betrayed me and slipped around his erection. I melted against him.

"Just don't play with my head, Sam," I mumbled against the cool, smooth skin of his neck. "Let me get there myself." I surrendered, accepting that I had him for now. I'd worry about later when it came. Right now, it was just him and me together.

"Lie down on the sofa, Sammy," he said softly at my ear at the same time that his hand on my shoulder slipped down my back and began to guide me.

I looked into his eyes when we'd reached the sofa, looking for direction.

"Take off the underwear, Sammy, and lie down on your back," he told me smiling as his hand moved down to cup my closest buttcheek.

I pushed my boxers down hurriedly and stepped out of them. His hand stayed glued to my cheek as I started to turn and sit on the sofa.

|You'll have me, Sammy -- just like you want,| he told me inside my mind. |But, first, you're going to get off good.|

I didn't call him down for using telepathy. I didn't see that as him being in my head and controlling me. I laid back, still holding onto his thick, hard dick as he stood over my chest.

"Henry," he called to the boy who'd been watching us. "Why don't you come over here and ride Sammy to glory?"

"Yeah!" Henry yelped and peeled off his boxers before trotting over to join us.

Sam -- yeah, I was getting used to thinking of the blond as my great-grandfather -- watched as my cousin straddled my legs and, on his knees, crawled up my legs to where my hard pecker could slide home once he lowered himself.

After Henry was situated and lowering himself, Sam leaned over me, his pole inches from my face. I pulled him to me. The tip of my tongue wormed beneath his foreskin and found his head.

Henry held me in place and just sat down, impaling himself on my seven inches. Sam reached over and took Henry's meat in hand and began to stroke him while feeding me more of his own pole.

The extra skin felt funny sliding against the roof of my mouth and tongue until I found that I could use my teeth to hold it back on Sam's shaft. I had to be careful just to graze him, instead of scraping him. I was settling into the sex, riding its rhythm and mindless of everything else.

|Sammy, I'm going to pull out for a second, boy. I want you to use your lips to pull my skin over the head.|

I nodded the best I could and felt him slowly pull back from me. I nudged the skin back onto his dickhead as it left my mouth. I looked up into his face for instructions as I held his lace with my teeth.

|Now, bite down -- hard enough to draw blood.|

Resistance to what he wanted must have shown in my eyes because he laughed.

|Swallow my blood, Sammy. It'll save you a lot of wear and tear in the years to come.|

I wasn't sure about that. I even like my steaks well done so I don't get cow blood with the meat. But Henry was bouncing away down there and my balls were drawing up. This wasn't exactly the best time to get into a discussion of things esoteric. Sam had caught a patch of skin between the end of his pecker and the cutting surface of my front teeth and was rubbing hard.

Every muscle in Henry's butt decided to start squeezing and milking my pole at that moment. "I'm almost there!" he cried.

I bit down on the thin layer of skin between my teeth. I felt Sam jerk but he forced himself to stay put. I tasted the coppery, almost salty taste of blood. Sam pushed his dick back into my mouth then and began to fuck it at the same tempo as Henry was riding my pecker. My hands moved up to grasp his buttcheeks.

I had no idea how hard I'd bitten Sam; his head penetrated my throat and splayed my tonsils. I was quickly beyond any thought as Henry's assmuscles clinched and unclinched on my pole as he rode it. I was close and getting closer. My balls straddled my dickshaft.

"Here it comes!" Henry groaned above me. His body jerked before it went rigid. His butt consumed all of my meat. The muscles in his chute went from clinching my pole to gripping it like a vise. That pushed me over and I started spraying his guts.

Sam grabbed my ears and pulled me all the way down his shaft before holding me there. His whole body jerked with his orgasm.

I tasted nothing. But I was too deep into my own orgasm to notice it.

* * *

"Just put it in me, Sammy," Henry begged. We laid alone in bed with him spooned up against me; Sam had already left us. "Let me go to sleep with it in me, please?"

How could I deny him? I'd woke up Saturday morning tired and wiped out. At five o'clock Sunday morning, my dick was again hard and his butt looked as good as ever.

I hadn't flagged during a night that was almost non-stop sex. I'd stayed hard, willing, and able. When Henry'd pulled off of me, Sam had been quick to hoist my legs and fill me up. Henry had watched me as I got fucked, his weapon hard; but he'd only watched. He'd stood back and let his balls replenish themselves. I'd stayed hard and managed to dribble some while Sam continued to ride me as if my chute wasn't spassing out on gripping and squeezing his pecker.

When the itch up my ass had been thoroughly scratched and what little mind I still had working was wondering if I'd ever be able to clinch my hole shut again, Sam changed things around on me. He'd pulled me to my feet and led me to Henry. The boy turned around and I soon had my seven inches buried back in his butt -- with Sam slamming his much bigger pole back into me. Sam had still been hard when he left us a little earlier.

I shivered as my dick pushed easily into Henry. The thing was sensitive as hell.

"Henry, what is it with Sam?"

He looked over his shoulder at me.

"I mean, that boy never goes down. How come?"

"He's a vampire, Sammy." He snuggled closer and raised his leg to cover mine. "I've never known him not to have a hard-on." He chuckled. "I'll bet he could ride you from sunset to sunrise without it ever getting soft."

"Jesus!" I tried to imagine myself being like that. And couldn't. I shuddered as Henry slowly ground his butt against my pubes, my dick inside him pulsed with heightened sensitivity.

"He had you taste some of his blood tonight, didn't he?" he asked suddenly, pulling me out of an entire universe that was just my pecker and his butt.

"Yeah. That was kind of kinky -- but you riding me kept my mind on what you were doing."

"Was that your first or second time?"

"For what?"

"Getting his blood."

"First." I remembered waking up last Sunday with the taste of blood in my mouth then. Maybe I hadn't bitten the inside of my cheek after all. "Maybe twice," I amended.

"Well, you won't ever have another cold, Sammy," Henry said with a smile.

I stared at him looking back over his shoulder at me.

"Vampire blood, Sammy. It kills germs faster than anything. It also heals you fast."

"Heals you?"

"Yeah. Broken legs and arms mostly -- for us here on the mountain leastwise." He studied me in silence for a moment. "We'd better get some sleep or else we'll be dragging our tails at dinner today."

"So, we'll just sleep through lunch. It can be dark when I get back to Atlanta."

"No, we won't. Momma's cooking and you're invited."

"Do they know about us?" I asked, feeling our connection along every one of my inches.

"Daddy does."

I felt my heart sink to my toes. What in the hell did you say to a man who knew you were balling his son?

"It's okay with him." He ground his butt on me again. "Though, he did say he wanted me to give him a Taylor grandson -- no matter whose bed I spent most of my time in."


"Sammy, do you think the guys here on the mountain stop fucking around with each other just because they get hitched? Daddy has a couple of cousins he still sees a couple of times a month -- and they're all married with kids."

I had to admit that the men of Taylor Mountain were proving to be a lot more mature than most people were. Enlightened was maybe a better word.

"Hold me, Sammy," Henry mumbled.

We fell asleep like that, Henry's back snuggled against my chest and my hard dick buried in his butt.


* * *



Troy had introduced himself to the Ambassadors for Christ before their meeting started and got out of their way. He stood beside the refreshment table, being unobtrusive. He figured that was his best move with the high school kids -- he was there if anybody needed him, but he was out of their way if they didn't.

The girls had eyed him up at the beginning, and two of them had even licked their lips to let him know they liked what they saw. The boys seemed to ignore him. He figured nothing had changed much in the ten years since he graduated high school.

The meeting was boring. Some kid with a sharp face and thick glasses tried to keep their discussion orderly but pig-tailed girl who made the term butt-ugly perfectly clear wasn't having any of it. Something about collecting at the next high school football game for needy kids.

Troy's gaze unconsciously moved from one kid to the next. He zoned out but part of him still was on the look-out for anyone who might catch his interest. His gaze had already moved past a big dude with a buzz-cut before he realized the boy was studying him. Very carefully. As if he knew him. Or thought he did.

Troy focused on the boy, pulling his thoughts back to the church hall and Ambassadors for Christ meeting. The kid wasn't bad looking; he just carried a lot of beef which was well-arranged, announcing to the world that he was a product of his high school's football program.

Troy smiled to himself. It seemed every high school in Georgia and Florida used the same conditioning program for their football players. And each kid that came out of one was a clone of every other kid every other coach created. It wasn't a surprise that the kid was blowing his Saturday night at the meeting either -- football was notorious for producing kids who bought the whole nine yards of the religion scam. Besides, the girl he was bonking was probably one of the better looking girls sitting near him.

Only, why was the kid studying him so closely?