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Blood. I need blood! There’s a woman; she has blood! I rush over and take the woman, bending her neck to present the pulsing vein. I can see it through her skin; I can smell it! I sink my fangs into her and suck through the capillaries. She whimpers. I don’t care. Keep feeding. Keep drinking blood. So good. Blood-blood-blood. I feel the life rush through me, electrifying every muscle, every nerve and neuron. I am powerful, I am life at its very edge, burning, burning from inside! The woman collapses in my arms, and I bear down on her like a lover, like a killer. There are strong arms on me, pulling me away. I gnash and snarl at unfamiliar faces as they part me from my prey. Who are they to take what is mine? That man is talking to me. He doesn’t have any blood for me. I recognize him. Titus. His name is Drake Titus. What is he saying? “How?” “How do you feel?” He’s smiling. I look down at the woman. She is cradled in Tiffany’s arms, and she is still alive. “Prestira?” Titus says. Is that my name? Prestira? Yes, that’s my name. My name is Prestira. My name is Prestira indian Rasloraca, and I am a witch, and I am in love with Zander Fredeon. And I am Yavara’s friend. Yavara. And then she returned to the bed in her young woman’s bra and fairly standard panties. Jeff had been hired six months ago to help finish the large cellar under the barn, that aunt Martha had always wanted for her canning. Emily whispered. Cindy gleamed as she looked down at her new titty rings. Make sure Trish gets to watch it with you. I shuddered as I watched that magical indian moment of my daughter and grandson uniting into one flesh. She must have sensed my brief emotional spike and knew I had a great hand. “I do,” I reply as Jacinta leans on her elbows and licks her lipstick off my lips while she tongue kisses me. Coming always made her a little bit giddy and having a conversation about it was weird. He got a wash cloth and cleaned his cock and her pussy. She squealed and orgasmed. Discipline her. The monarch floated lazily about the room, and settled on a stalk of milkweed growing in the window. It sounded like a terrible idea to him. "Look, I was angry when I heard the news about Ginny and Michael Corner. The six of us were among the oldest of the second generation of futas.