MUSCLES & BLOOD by Felix Lance Falkon

This is almost too easy, Stefan warned himself, like that summer in the Valley . . . He glanced up at the old house, glowing in the moonlight, then hurried to catch up with the other four: big, blond Olaf, now unlocking the front door; Vilna, at Olaf's side; Hilda, Olaf's blonde sister; and Janos. Stefan, the last through the door, locked it carefully behind him and followed the others into a big, pillow-strewn room overlooking the Bay.

Hilda shook out her hair; Janos shed his jacket. Vilna began to unbutton Olaf's shirt. Stefan glanced at one couple, then the other. Better to wait, he told himself, but as soon as Olaf and Vilna --

A towheaded young Apollo trotted into the room, saying, "Hey, I thought you were going to -- Ooops! Sorry, I didn't --"

"That's all right, Nils," said Olaf. "Our kid brother," he explained. "Nils, this is Vilna; that's Janos; and . . . there ya are: Stefan."

"Uh -- hi, everybody." Nils backed toward the door. "I just -- homework -- see ya around."

"Nils, wait," said Hilda. She looked at Olaf, who nodded; Hilda said, "You can take Stefan. Show him your bodybuilding room or something. Later on -- maybe sandwiches, even. But now . . ."

"Uh -- sure." Nils grinned, suddenly eager. "C'mon, guy -- Stefan, is it?"

Stefan kept the hunger out of his own smile as he followed the youth out of the room. This lusty stud, all mine . . . Stefan carefully licked his lips as he and Nils strode through an unusually well-equipped kitchen -- the chopping block was big enough to handle a side of beef -- and into another room with a view of the moon-bright Bay.

Barbells, shiny from use, not chrome, filled a rack along one wall. Other equipment stood on the floor. A broad mattress, some five feet by ten, lay under the window.

"Nineteenth Street Gym's got more 'quipment, so I go there for heavy stuff," Nils explained. His shirt flared wide as he turned to Stefan, baring a wide, taut-muscled chest. "But for regular exercise, this setup's great: just come in, strip down, and start working out."

Stefan touched his leather-jacketed chest. "You work out alone here?"

"More fun bringing a guy or two home from school." Nils touched his bared chest. "Lift some iron, strip down a bit more. Maybe some muscle poses, or I'll get out the old measuring tape, start measuring arms, and work on down."

"You must be very -- active." Stefan slid his right hand down the front of his own lean torso and into his trousers. He curled his hips forward, and his glans nosed up against his fingers.

"Girls . . . the ones in school either chase jocks, or they won't even look at a guy with any muscles; they're either too easy or just impossible. But guys -- there's the real challenge: getting them interested without scaring 'em off."

"And you have you been -- getting them?"

Nils grinned. "Wrestling team was easy: mostly three-ways. Working my way through the football squad now -- takes longer, but when those big hunks do get going . . ." He grinned again. "Uh -- how'd you meet Hilda and Olaf?"

"Janos and Vilna and I -- we were at the bowling place on Twenty-fifth. Your sister said things would -- just work themselves out." And quickly, too, Stefan added to himself. Janos must be in to the hilt by now, and Vilna is impaling herself on blond Olaf's shaft; two pairs of locked bodies squirming among the pillows. Stefan felt sudden hunger clawing at his own lean belly.

"Wanta warm up with some weights first?" asked the strapping youth, slipping out of his shirt.

Stefan shook his head and smiled. He slid out of his leather jacket, flipped open belt and trousers, and kicked off his shoes. In a moment, both were naked, both sexual shafts up and hard. Carefully -- very carefully -- Stefan ran his tongue over his teeth as he moved closer to Nils.

"You look real great, guy," the blond youth said. He stroked Stefan's biceps, then moved both hands to Stefan's chest. "Nice definition, real nice."

"Diet," Stefan murmured. "Very special." He patted the solid, warm bulk of Nils' shoulders, then explored the young bodybuilder's muscle-sheathed torso with his fingers. "And you have a splendid physique, young stud."

"Uh -- thanks." Nils worked his hands on down the tight washboard of Stefan's abdominals. "You're like marble -- all lean and hard and pale."

"You are bronze, all hot-blooded and lusty." And as eager as those farm studs in the Valley, Stefan added to himself.

Nils touched Stefan's quivering prong. "You are ready, guy." The blond stroked Stefan's virile shaft, squeezed the tip gently, and lifted a clear drop of fluid from Stefan's glans with his index finger. Nils curled his own hips forward, thrusting his shaft invitingly at Stefan.

Still rubbing the youth's torso with his left hand, Stefan gripped Nils' shaft with his right. Wetness gleamed at the tip; Stefan picked up a drop with his own index finger.

"See how ya taste," said Nils. He raised his finger to his lips, then paused, waiting . . .

"Also," said Stefan. He raised the droplet of Nils' to his own lips and touched it with his tongue. He felt slickness, tasted a hint of bitterness, and watched his own fluid being tasted by the naked teen-ager. Both swallowed, and Stefan was suddenly warm as a flush spread through his naked body and his already-rigid shaft hardened even more.

"Okay?" asked Nils, his expression tense, wary.

"Wow!" sighed Stefan. "I have not felt like this since . . ." His gnawing hunger burned away, and he suddenly needed to unload his organs. Through clenched teeth, he said, "Take me, stud; take me quick."

Nils' wariness dissolved into a laugh. "It's working!" he said, put an arm around Stefan's shoulders, and steered him to the mattress by the window.

They knelt. Stefan stretched out on his side. Nils slid down beside him, so they lay mouth to shaft, lip to glans. Stefan felt warm wetness take his shaft. He looked down to see his glans slide into the teen-ager's mouth. After a moment, Stefan focused on Nils' shaft, long and hard, turgid with hot blood, ready for Stefan to . . .

. . . but Stefan's teeth were still clamped tight. He nuzzled the blonde's shaft with his nose, then looked down at his own shaft pumping in and out of Nils' mouth as the youth sucked, sucked even harder . . . sucked until Stefan's erupted in a geyser of hot sperm.

Stefan pumped the rest of his load into the naked teen-ager, then sighed, "That was good. I do not remember how long it has been since I . . ." He nuzzled Nils' prong again. "It is my turn to take yours, but now I --"

"It's okay, guy; it's okay."

"But I want to take you, take your shaft, take your glans, only --"

"I know, I know. Everything's okay, Stef," said Nils, rolling Stefan onto his back. Nils tucked three pillows under Stefan's hips, eased Stefan's thighs wide, and knelt between them.

"My teeth -- lockjaw -- a spasm," growled Stefan as he watched Nils take a small jar, open it, and grease his prong. Next, the blond Apollo spread Stefan's legs even wider and started to probe with that glistening shaft. When the teen-ager's glans snapped past the ring of muscle, Stefan choked back a scream. The first thrust was like a white-hot lance, but pain faded into a warm glow with the next few thrusts into the roots of Stefan's manhood.

His torso still erect, Nils slowed his stroke, each one pulling out almost to his glans, then driving in to the hilt again. "That better?"

Stefan nodded. Feeding could always wait; getting fucked by this lusty young stud was turning him on, bringing his own organs to a boil again. "You do go in deep, stud," Stefan gasped. He watched his own stiff prong jiggle, watched Nils' muscles tighten and relax as the impaling stroke accelerated. "Feels great -- go, stud, go! Maybe this will . . ."

Nils grinned. "Maybe get your teeth and jaws working so you can go for blood, 'stead of just cream?"

Stefan blinked. "But . . ." Motion at the doorway caught his attention; he saw Nils' brother stroll into the room: a blond, naked Hercules, his virile shaft erect and gleaming.

"You two makin' out okay?" asked Olaf.

Nils looked up at his brother and, without missing a stroke, said, "Sure. Soon as I started working on his prong, he went off like a fire hose. I think he's gonna be ready to shoot again, real soon." Nils looked down and grinned. "Right, Stef?"

With a start, Stefan realized that he had been meeting every stroke of Nils' shaft with a squirm and thrust of his own. "Well -- yes. Soon -- yes. But he thinks -- that I -- that we -- that --"

"How'd ya nail him?"

"Didn't look like he was into kissing, so I sorta dared him into tasting a drop of my pre-come." Nils grinned at Olaf's worried frown. "No, no; we weren't sixty-nining or anything dumb like that; we used our fingers on each others' cock-tips. No way was I gonna risk sticking my prong into his fangs before he locked up good and hard."

Nils looked down at Stefan again. "Up to now, I've been getting sloppy seconds; you're the first bloodsucker they let me nail all by myself." He glanced at his older brother. "Got the other two okay?"

Olaf nodded. "Routine. Kissed 'em, good 'n' deep, soon's we stripped down. After pumping a load into Vilna, I came t' see how ya made out. Hilda's keepin' 'em company for now."

Stefan took a deep breath. Nils was pumping faster now, every thrust pushing Stefan closer toward an orgasm of his own. "Look, Olaf," Stefan said, "your kid brother is a real stud, but that imagination of his -- calling us vampires? Where did he get . . ."

Olaf knelt on the mattress, his cock just inches from Stefan's nose. "Best we can figure it, great-granddad had a run- in with one who forgot how short the summer nights are in Norway." Olaf grinned. "Ever since, his descendants have a kind of immunity to you guys." He squeezed his hard shaft, squeezed out a gout of semen. "Here -- try some"

Stefan found himself opening his lips, turning his head toward Olaf. He sucked through his teeth, swallowed, and sucked for more as a warm glow spread through his body.

Nils chuckled, then -- pumping harder -- said, "That got to ya, didn't it?"

Stefan nodded. But how . . . ?"

"Felt you clamp down tight on my prong. You vampires'll do it every time; it'll really get to ya when I shoot a whole load up your butt. Saliva, ball-juice, and Hilda's -- you know --"

"Vaginal secretions," said Olaf.

"Yeah -- anyway, they'll all do it. When the stuff touches your mucous membranes -- well, you know what it's like by now. Bet you're not hungry, either. And the stuff works great as a painkiller, too."

"Not hungry -- no," sighed Stefan. "For the first time in . . . ever so many years, I do not have to --"

"To feed?" asked Nils.

Stefan nodded slowly. "When I -- tasted you, my jaws locked tight. Now, even though they work again, I do not . . . hunger." He took a deep breath. "My organs -- I am going to shoot again."

Olaf stretched his muscular body beside Stefan, his blond head over Stefan's prong. "Lemme help ya out," Olaf growled, and closed his lips around Stefan's glans.

"Ready?" asked Nils.

Stefan gasped. "One more -- another -- now!"

The teen-ager rammed himself all the way in, went rigid, then jetted his load into Stefan, who jabbed his own cock deep into Olaf's mouth and erupted. For long, delicious moments, Stefan pumped his load into Olaf while Nils pumped his into Stefan.

Spent, Stefan relaxed, lazily aware that Nils was withdrawing his still-rigid shaft, aware that Olaf had released Stefan's glans. He looked up, saw that the lusty youth was grinning, heard him ask, "How ya doin', Stef?"

"Still hard, still -- how do you say -- horny," said Stefan, touching Olaf's shaft with one hand, his own with the other. "And you are . . . ?"

"The same," said Olaf. "Vampires turn us on just like they do anybody else; we're not immune to that. Got lots of fuckin' t' do 'fore the night's over."

"Your saliva and -- other juices, do they always work like this?"

Olaf sat up and shook his head. "Just on vampires. Doesn't do a thing t' ord'n'ry people."

"Yeah," said Nils. "I checked that out a lot."

"The wrestling team?"

Nils licked his lips and grinned. "And the football squad." Then -- abruptly serious -- he asked, "Ever have a guy watch you work on his prong -- watching as you fed on him?"

Stefan let his breath out in a sigh. "Well . . ." He squirmed, then relaxed as Olaf knelt between his thighs. "I have heard it said that . . ." He took a deep breath. Olaf was spreading Stefan's thighs wider, was beginning to work his prong into Stefan's butt. "All right then: the neck is the traditional place to feed, whether during a quick grab in the shadows or a long, easygoing seduction. After you have stripped, embraced, and coupled --" Stefan paused, then gasped. Olaf's cock was longer and thicker than Nils' The blond Hercules was stronger, too; a smooth, controlled power as exciting as the teen-ager's eager virility. "When you have someone impaled on your shaft, the neck is an easy target indeed. And if two of -- if two vampires be working together --"

"Figurin' on takin' me that way?" asked Olaf. With his muscle-sheathed torso erect, he pulled back slowly, then drove his shaft in to the hilt.

"Well -- yes. When Vilna clamps her vaginal muscles around a stud's shaft and I spike his butt with my own shaft, escape is virtually impossible. At that point, most studs will -- how do you say -- just relax and enjoy it.

"The shaft is a less conventional target, perhaps; but if a stud be eager for a round of sixty-nine, sucking on my shaft while my teeth open his glans --"

"-- like you were gonna do me?" asked Nils.

"Well -- you seemed eager enough."

"How about working on a guy while he just -- watches?" Nils licked his lips. "You know -- it's like --"

Stefan nodded. "Yes, often. With a stud who has been stripped and then bound at wrist, waist, and ankle, the glans is a perfect target: for one, it is a comfortable mouthful; for two, you are well out of reach should he try to bite; and for three, a firm grip on his testicles will control him until he settles down to watch -- and enjoy -- what you are doing to his shaft."

"Kinda hard, finding guys tied up like that," said Nils.

"In the Old Country, during the Turkish Invasions, our Voivode -- the local Baron -- kept us well supplied with captured Turks, each stripped and spitted on a waist-high stake. When a man stands erect with his crotch impaled on six inches of good Carpathian oak, escape is impossible, even with hands and feet unbound. Those Turkish soldiers were too proud to beg for mercy, but they were very grateful when we appeared and went to work on their prong-tips."

"Yeah," said Nils, "but what happened when the Voivode ran outa Turks?"

"Between wars, the Voivode would have rebellious peasants and petty crooks stripped, tied to sturdy trees, and left out to feed us; impalement was reserved for Turks and highwaymen. Troublemakers among the minor nobility and the gentry were simply ordered to report to our castle."

"And they -- would?" asked Nils.

"Of course. Bravery was terribly important in those days, especially among younger sons of the nobles, who were forever plotting rape, robbery, and rebellion. Showing bravery was even more important to these high-spirited studs. Whenever one was told to visit our castle, he would display his courage and virility by inviting a dozen or so friends and retainers along to watch him feed us; and a pack of lusty studs would all strip to their boots and swordbelts, and then ride out together.

"When they arrived, we would light the cressets and fireplaces, open the gates, and lead them inside. After a cold supper brought and served by his retainers, the stud who was to feed us would stretch himself out on a rug and invite one of us to take his rigid prong. The other studs would watch, fascinated; soon, a few would offer us their own glandes. Before long the great hall would be a-squirm with naked virility, some feeding us, others servicing each other's organs. The next morning, the survivors would take the horses home."

"You let some guys escape . . . ?" asked Nils.

Stefan smiled. "Most returned within a month or two, each with a few of his own friends, lusty studs who insisted they only came to watch -- but were soon asking us to work on their shafts too."

"Bread on the waters?" asked Olaf, who was gradually accelerating his stroke.

Stefan shivered. "That is not a source I like to cite. But yes, the word spread that feeding us was -- enjoyable."

"Yeah?" growled Olaf. "Ya didn't have t' force anybody?"

"Many did volunteer, yes; and we often heard a tale of unrequited love while draining a lusty stud. But those ordered by the Voivode to feed us could hardly escape the social pressures of the time, nor could their companions resist a chance to display their virility.

"As for the ones stripped and tied to trees, most greeted us with stiffening shafts, then cheerfully watched us work on their organs. But we also took lovers and runaway apprentices lost in the forest, and occasional travelers who sought shelter in our little castle. We even captured a few bands of highwaymen -- for which last everyone was very grateful, although the Voivode sent word that we should have let him impale them first. A few struggled to the end; the rest -- including the highwaymen -- just relaxed and watched us take them.

"Eventually, though, the Voivode's eldest son led a revolt; when it succeeded, the old Voivode, his captains, his personal guard, and his body-servants rode naked to our castle." Stefan squirmed, then relaxed. "The Voivode's men were well-built, lusty studs; the Voivode himself, the best hung of all.

"Inside, the old Voivode quickly had everyone at ease, prey talking comfortably with predators as everyone's shafts hardened. His servants served an elaborate buffet, with five kinds of wine and three violists, naked and virile like the rest. After the meal, the Voivode paired each of us with one of his men, then watched glandes disappear into hungry mouths and exchanged a few words as we began to feed. The violinists played on while three of us worked on their shafts. The dozen or so young guardsmen that were left over watched for a few minutes, then pounced on each other's shafts.

"Finally, the old Voivode stretched himself out on a hearth-rug and offered his own virile prong to the youngest vampire, whom he had saved for himself." Stefan chuckled. "Maybe the old Voivode thought he could last through the night by starting last and picking a youngster to feed, but he forgot how hungry teen-agers are.

"Istv n, the new Voivode, was a careful man: before his younger brothers could begin plotting against him, he ordered all five to report to our castle, and sent a troop of his cavalry along to make sure they did. But as the five brothers stripped, Mikl¢s, the youngest, persuaded the cavalry to strip too, and when the troop reached us they were all stiff-pronged and ready.

"The first troop failed to report back, so Istv n himself led a second troop to see what had happened. Inside our castle, they found the great hall filled with naked cavalrymen, some watching us work on their shafts, the rest servicing each other. The second troop stripped, stiffened their shafts, and joined the fun.

"That his cavalry were happily feeding us did not bother the new Voivode as much as the discovery that none of his brothers were. Instead, they had linked themselves into a ten-man daisy-chain with five lusty cavalrymen. Upon Istv n's arrival, Mikl¢s uncoupled himself and scampered off, returning in a moment with the teen-aged vampire to whom their father had fed himself.

"Conversation turned to the old Voivode's impressive sexual equipment, and Mikl¢s suggested a contest to see which of the brothers was the best equipped, with the young vampire as the judge. Istv n stripped, stiffened his shaft, and lined up with his brothers. After careful inspection, the young vampire announced the eldest brother was the winner . . . and before Istv n quite realized what was happening, the young vampire was feeding on Istv N's shaft."

Olaf asked, "And the other brothers?"

"Not then, no; they left next morning, with the remainder of the cavalry. But later, one by one . . ."

"Yeah," said Nils, "but around here, finding guys all tied up and ready for you to work on their prongs must be . . ."

"We had some success of late," said Stefan. "Last summer, Janos and I visited the Valley, hoping to find one or two lusty, corn-fed studs to vary our diet. Instead, we found a whole pack of them, virile and muscular, all in their late teens and early twenties: a gang of farm boys just graduating from pot-growing and pill-peddling to hiring themselves out as muscle in the local farm-labor troubles. They were willing to work for either side, or both at once: what mattered to them was making money and being macho, not politics and principles.

"They were clever, too: instead of black leather and shiny motorcycles, they wore tight T-shirts and drove dusty pick-up trucks; instead of knives and guns, they relied on muscle and self-confidence. Whenever one or two studs from the gang told a local stud to come with them . . ."

". . . he just -- came?" asked Nils.

Stefan nodded. "Local youths all thought it macho not to call for outside help, so neither town police nor State Troopers realized what was going on, even when it happened right in front of them. The technique worked on outsiders too: there is something terribly, terribly intimidating about a big, friendly farm kid so utterly sure of himself that he carries no weapons, not even a penknife. Eventually, all by himself, one of them brought in -- but I get ahead of my story now.

"The gang would take each captive up into the foothills, strip him, and release him to walk home naked. Most of their victims were too macho or too embarrassed to talk afterwards; but one, after he got home, threatened to go to the police with the whole story: pot-fields, muscle-contracts, and all. The gang caught him again and brought him back to the foothills, next to an abandoned mine where Janos and I were staying, where they stripped him again, staked him out atop an anthill, and settled down to see what would happen.

"The ants declined the live bait, perhaps because they preferred to feed during daylight hours. Janos and I made a sudden, spectacular appearance, black cloaks swirling around our otherwise naked bodies. But instead of fleeing in panic, those big, friendly farm boys calmly invited us to help ourselves to their captive.

"So . . . we did. The staked-out stud reported -- between orgasms -- that this was lots more fun than waiting for the ants to eat him. After the farm boys watched us feed for a while, one suggested we could do this for them again, so Janos and I took turns working on the naked captive and negotiating a mutually profitable arrangement: the gang would supply naked studs to us at the old mine; we would feed on the studs and then dispose of the remains.

"First, the gang brought us a few young men who had welshed on drug deals. Next, they let us eliminate a few of their own less-reliable members, such as the pair who told two outsider friends more than they should about the gang's activities. The rest of the gang brought the talkative pair and their friends to the old mine, where the pair watched their friends feed us one evening, then fed us their own shafts the next.

"Soon after that, two gang members -- a set of well-hung, well-muscled twins -- decided that volunteering to feed us themselves would be really macho. So, while the rest of the gang watched, the twins stripped to their Stetsons and boots, stretched out on the ground side by side, and invited us to work on their erections while the rest of the gang watched."

"Their erections?" asked Nils, stroking his own.

"Those twins came out of their clothes already hard, and when they dared the other farm-studs to strip, the gang all stiffened up as they stripped. After that, when visiting us, the gang would strip down to boots, cowboy hats, and hard-ons, partly to show off their virility, partly from their own -- how do you say -- horniness, and partly because we have a certain -- effect on people."

"You do at that," Nils said, touching his own rigid prong. "Makes for some good sex, though."

"It does at that," said Olaf, as he thrust deeper into Stefan.

"Anyway, farm-labor troubles flared up again, which kept the gang busy eliminating strikers, strike-breakers, and outside muscle by delivering them to us at the mine."

"Staked out for you to work on?" asked Olaf.

Stefan shook his head. "A few had to be tied down, yes; but most decided -- how is it said -- to relax and enjoy it, watching us as we fed on their shafts."

"The gang ever go t' work on each other?" asked Olaf, slowing his stroke.

Stefan chuckled. "They would watch us work on some stud's prong for a while, and then they would pair off for some heavy sucking of their own. But it was all very macho: no kissing, no -- how did they say it -- going steady. They picked different partners every time, and kept score."

"Kept score?" asked Nils.

"For one, how many times each gang member ejaculated during an evening. For two, how many studs each brought in for us to drain. And for three, they even kept a record of how many times each captive ejaculated while he was feeding us; but winning that contest was its own reward, so to speak." Stefan grinned, remembering. "Being already naked made it easy for those big, lusty farm boys to pair up and go to work on each other, the competition added incentive, and there was always something erotic to watch between rounds.

"Some Teamster muscle wandered into the Valley, looking for trouble; but they found that those big, friendly farm boys were more trouble than the muscle could handle. The gang collected the Teamsters -- five well-hung, muscular ex-Marines -- and brought them to the old mine. The gang also brought steaks and beer, and they all settled down to enjoy a three-day cookout and orgy."

"An orgy?" asked Olaf.

Stefan nodded. "Mickey, a sturdy little ex-Marine, helped cook the steaks, told wild sex-stories all through supper, and then started a contest to see who had the longest prong. When Janos and I went to work on two of the Marines, Mickey watched for a while, then jumped up and offered to teach everybody else how to fuck, Marine-style.

"First he got the other two Marines to stretch out on their backs and spread their legs; and then he got a couple of farm studs to oil up, climb on, and start fucking. Mickey himself took on Rick, the youngster who won the size contest."

"Hey," objected Nils. "I thought that Marines only --"

"-- do it dog-style?" asked Olaf. "Always saying that, but the ones I've fucked . . ." He licked his lips and grinned.

Stefan grinned too, remembering. "These Marines did everything. After a few rounds, they started teaching those lusty farm hunks how to get fucked: Mickey lay down on his back and then persuaded Rick to impale himself -- very carefully -- on Mickey's prong. Later that evening, they did three-ways -- Marines sandwiched between pairs of eager farm studs -- and finished with everybody in one long chain, sucking and being sucked -- everybody but Janos and me and the two studs we were feeding on.

"The second night, Mickey organized another orgy. Then he and Rick watched us work on the other two Marines, checking out another idea of Mickey's: if studs have plenty of Gatorade to drink, they last longer and shoot more loads before they run dry, so they had more fun feeding us." Stefan shook his head. "Everything was too easy for those farm boys -- much too easy."

"How so?" asked Olaf, slowing his stroke almost to a stop.

"Those big, friendly hunks never had to kill anyone themselves: persuasion, a little intimidation, and their own self-confidence got studs to the old mine, stripped, stiffened up, and ready to feed us. In the morning, they would just . . . be gone."

"The mine shaft?" suggested Olaf, resuming his stroke.

The vampire nodded. "Now and then, we arranged an automobile accident with a fire afterwards. Mostly . . . the mine shaft.

"On the third night, Janos and I were going to take turns working on Mickey, but Rick volunteered to feed me his prize- winning shaft while Mickey fed Janos.

"Two weeks after that, the labor troubles -- how do you say it? -- cooled off. Both sides ran out of troublemakers, leaving the gang with lots of money but little to do.

"Out of boredom, the gang members started daring each other: One would ask, `You got the balls to do it?' Another would say, `I do if you do,' and they would lie down side by side and invite us to take them.

"Trying to reduce these losses, the gang's leaders started volleyball games at the mine, with everybody naked and trying to stay hard, and lots of kidding about that. At first, the prize for winning a game was getting to fuck the losing team, but within a week they raised the stakes: after getting fucked, the losers would pick two studs from their team who then fed us.

"Then the leaders set up a contest to see who could supply us with the most outsiders, usually ones not soon missed, such as hitchhikers, migrant workers, and stray backpackers, who -- stripped of their scruffy clothes -- were often well-muscled and well-hung.

"A four-man team brought in a couple of lumberjacks: big, muscular blondes who admitted, as they stripped, that they `kinda liked getting fucked.' For almost a week, the gang would fuck the blondes every evening until they all ran dry. And rather than let us go hungry, two of the four-man team volunteered to feed us.

"Another team brought in a tall, broad-shouldered motorcyclist, who stripped, stiffened up, and calmly surveyed the circle of naked farm hunks through his mirrored sunglasses. Then he asked if anyone was man enough to get speared on his long, thick shaft. Of course, they all took his dare. More gang members fed us while the motorcyclist fucked his way through the whole gang -- plus the lumberjacks.

Olaf frowned. "Must of started runnin' outta gang members b' then."

"They did," said Stefan. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "When those studs were feeding us, they tried to explain why they volunteered: partly, to find out why other studs enjoyed feeding us so much; partly, to be macho and show off; and partly, to share an adventure with a close friend, lying side by side, naked and erected, chatting quietly, watching us suck their prongs, climaxing together, pumping jets of creamy sperm, feeling us drink their blood . . .

"Some outsiders fed us; others, not. The lumberjacks eventually went back to their logging camp, but they came back on weekends. A pole-line construction crew came by every evening after work, stripped down, and joined the gang for a quick orgy.

"When the motorcyclist finally admitted he was completely fucked out, he asked Janos and me to finish him off. A few days later, the gang brought in a carload of paratroopers on leave who wanted to try everything: First, they fucked all the farm studs. Next, the farm studs fucked the paratroopers. The gang sucked off the paratroopers, and the paratroopers sucked off the farm studs. Finally, two by two, the paratroopers invited us to work on their shafts.

"A couple of State Troopers started bringing in young studs who had run away from the Detention Farm and who said they would rather feed us than go back to the Farm, especially since each one got a steak dinner from the gang and got sucked off by the Troopers before we went to work."

"State Troopers?" asked Olaf, leaning forward as he accelerated his stroke.

"A pair of bodybuilders with competition-class physiques and erections to match their muscles. Stripped to their black- leather boots and pistol belts, they looked magnificent. Kevin, a thick-pronged farm kid with curly hair and nice pectorals, brought them in all by himself. The Troopers liked being sucked, and they liked sucking even more; they were very good at it, too.

"But those big, friendly farm boys kept volunteering to feed us themselves until Kevin was the last one left. When he invited us to finish him off, Buck, a lineman from the construction crew, volunteered to keep him company. The rest of the linemen and the two Troopers had a final orgy while Kevin fed me and Buck fed Janos. Afterwards, they helped us dump the bodies and seal the mine shaft. A few evenings later, the Troopers gave us a ride back to the City in their camping van. They said we were making it too easy to dispose of troublemakers, so . . ."

"So?" asked Olaf, thrusting harder with every stroke.

Stefan managed to get his jaws wide enough to lick his lips. "Near the City, they pulled off on a lonely side road, parked, and climbed in back with us. They stripped; we stripped. They sucked us off, making it last. Then they pulled out a couple of gallons of Gatorade, rolled onto their backs, and settled down to watch while we took their glandes."

Nils said, "Well, it'll be kinda like that, when you watch us take your organs -- yours and Janos's, that is."

"Take us -- how?"

"Don't worry; we've got lots of fucking 'fore then," said Olaf.

"Yeah," said Nils. "After I check out Vilna and Janos, we can do some three-ways: you sandwiched 'tween me and Olaf, or me riding Janos's butt while you spike mine.

"And -- and then?"

Olaf said, "All that juice we're pumpin' t' ya; like Nils said, it's a great painkiller too." He slowed his stroke again. "And, 'cordin' t' all the vampires we've worked on, watchin' can be real int'restin'."

"Watching -- what?"

"Look, Stef," said Nils, "no way are we gonna do a creature-feature, stake-&-mallet number on you guys, not as good as you're built and with what meat costs these days."

"Meat? Meat?"

"Sure," said Olaf. "Long as we're careful not t' spike your heart, cuttin' ya up, vampire meat keeps great. Did ya see that big chopping block in the kitchen? Some studs said it was kinda fun, watchin' themselves bein' gutted and chopped up alive into steaks and roasts and things."

"Fun? It might be interesting, but . . ." Stefan touched his own rigid shaft. ". . . everything?"

Nils said, "Waste not and all that good stuff. Maybe it's sorta kinky, but one of you guys came up with the idea -- probably from guys watching while he worked on them."

"Vampire stud working solo," said Olaf, now breathing hard and thrusting harder. "Hung heavy. 'Fore we -- started cuttin' -- he wanted t' see if -- the painkiller -- really worked -- wanted t' try -- a match -- on his -- cock-tip."

Nils said, "Then Olaf tried a candle, and when the guy said that didn't hurt either --"

Olaf said, "The stove -- your -- idea"

"Well, he said he might's well get cooked clear through while we were at it, so I got out our little camping stove and put it on the kitchen floor and lit it; and the guy knelt down astride it, with his balls just above the burner, and then I adjusted it so the flames swirled 'round his balls and out along his stiff prong . . ."

"Broiling -- him -- alive," Olaf panted.

Stefan shivered. "That could be -- interesting: watching the flames licking my prong, roasting my nuts, cooking me alive." He shivered again. "And then?"

"Well, when you look done and smell done, and you tell us you feel done . . ."

Stefan said, "You cut -- ?"

"Nope," said Olaf. "Eat -- just like -- that."

"Still attached and everything," Nils explained. "Olaf just bit into the first guy and started chewing on his prong-tip. The rest of the barrel's kinda tough, but your nuts'll come out nice and tender. We've been doing all you guys like that ever since."

Stefan rubbed his chest muscles. "Watching while you bite into my glans, watching your teeth grind into my shaft, watching you eat me -- eat me alive . . ." He took a deep breath, impaled himself deeper on Olaf's shaft, felt his own shaft throb. "Yes, that would be interesting."

"Hey, Olaf," said Nils, "since I'm the one that nailed him, can I -- ?"

"-- eat his organs after you've broiled 'em?" Olaf grinned down at Stefan, his own shaft plunging deep with each stroke. "Sure. I'll take Janos's; you get Stefan's all to yourself."

"Great!" Nils reached over and stroked Stefan's throbbing prong. "You got a real nice hunk of meat there, Stef. See ya later, guys." Nils straightened up and trotted from the room.

Olaf's stroke slowed, became stronger. Stefan asked, "Close?"

"Real close," the blond Hercules growled, his muscles tensing into sharp relief. "Just a few -- more," he growled, ramming himself in to the hilt. His shaft jerked deep inside Stefan, and a surge of glowing warmth spread through the vampire's body. Olaf thrust again -- again -- and relaxed onto Stefan's chest with a contented sigh.

After a few moments, Stefan said, "Olaf?"

"Mrumpf?" The big blond opened his eyes and raised his head.

"I can get my mouth open again."

"Hungry?"

Stefan shook his head. "Not now -- not any more, not for blood." He took a deep breath and squirmed under Olaf's naked, muscular weight. "Just -- horny."

"Wanta swap places?" asked Olaf, as he pulled out his still-hard shaft. He sat up and stretched. "I could ride your spike this time."

Stefan sat up too. "You and Nils have been doing all the work. Let me get on top for a round."

"Okay; grease up and hop on." Olaf rolled onto his back and spread his thighs.

Stefan lubricated his rigid prong, knelt between Olaf's legs, and carefully probed the tight, hot passage. He slid in deep, and the blond Hercules squirmed, then relaxed under Stefan's impaling thrust. Stefan pulled back, started in again; he looked down at his shaft and at the naked blond spitted on it, then shook his head. "I must be mad, completely out of my mind."

"How come, Stef?"

"Here your kid brother tells me he is going to roast my organs and eat me alive, while I watch; and then you are going to -- to vivisect me while I watch you do that; and here I am, fucking a hot-blooded muscle stud instead of . . ." Stefan pulled his prong back and slid in to the hilt again.

"No crazier'n those studs ridin' naked to your castle in packs, so's you and your pals could work on their prongs -- or that gang o' hunky farm-kids playin' volleyball naked t' see who gets t' feed you while his buddies watch -- or those two body- builder State Troopers . . ." Olaf tightened himself around Stefan's shaft, then met Stefan's thrust and his next and -- and on into the hard-driving rhythm of their locked bodies. "Hey, how good were those two Troopers built, anyhow?" he asked with a frown.

"Jealous?" Stefan grinned as he pumped for a half-dozen strokes. "They had more mass than you, but less definition." He took Olaf's testicles in his right hand, took Olaf's shaft in his left, and squeezed gently. "You and Nils are both hung better than they were." Stefan chuckled. "Now stop worrying, Olaf; you and your kind brother are real muscle-studs."

Olaf grinned back. "Okay -- then let's fuck."

"I am trying to make this round last by imagining flames swirling along my shaft, roasting my organs, and cooking me alive --"

"But you're goin' in harder with every fuckin' stroke, stud."

"I know. The more I think about Nils eating me alive, the hotter I get inside. Soon -- too soon . . ."

"So? The sooner we finish this round . . ."

". . . the sooner we can start another," panted Stefan. "Crazy or not, this fuck is fun!"

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