Death? The Grim Reaper wasn’t Death, not compared to me. As Oppenheimer once quoted and the Hindus wrote, “I am become Death, the destroyer of wor...ds.”I was the real deal ... the real McCoy. Sickle or no sickle, I wasn’t hype. As a vampire, I was Death on steroids. I was Nosferatu, the Undead. Not exactly Dracula, but as close as this world would come to it. And I would let the fucking bodies hit the floor.“I want the Colt, Crowley. So, cut the crap and give it to me, or else...,” I dangled the. He grasped my butt cheeks with a hand on either side, I could only grin.“Finally”, I thought to myself.This was now the first time since my violation at hands of Uncle Steve that I had been penetrated.At least this time, I am a willing participant.He was now slowly fucking me and I was like a cat in a fish market; purring with pleasure.There I was bent over and moaning, and bucking back into him; each time he pulled out.He gradually increased the pace of his thrusts and I was clearly in ecstasy. More

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