Down For The Count

        My breathing was returning to normal. I opened my eyes and pushed myself back to sit on my haunches, smiling down at the lad whose arse still held most of my thick, still hard nine inches. His legs straightened and wrapped around my waist, his heels coming to rest at the beginning of my arse crevice and his buttocks raised a foot or two off the blanket.

He grinned and reached up to touch my chest with his spread fingers. "That was very good, Englander," he told me in thickly accented German. "You make me want always more - since that first time-" He wiggled his bum on my dick inside him and his face became thoughtful as his dark eyes clouded. "Again please, Jonathan?"

I wondered for a moment if I should use a new condom, then realised that I could lose the moment if I did. I grinned down at him as I began to withdraw several inches of my mast from his hole and lifted his legs to my shoulders to gain easier access.

We shagged under the trees beside the dual carriageway the communist government had built into the foothills of southeastern Hungary after the world war and the Germans had repaved for the young democratic government that had taken over nearly fifty years later. He moaned continuously as I ploughed him thoroughly. He wanked himself to another orgasm; I remained still as the muscles of his arse spasmed and clutched at my prick inside him.

I began to fuck him again and he bucked up to meet my every thrust. His erection rode his come-slickened belly like a pendulum, his foreskin bunched behind his knob-end. He grabbed handsful of blanket and stayed right with me as I gave him everything I had.

I was finally close to my destination, ten days after leaving London. Another day and I would be in the Carpathian Alps and at the border between Hungary and Roumania. The day after, I’d set up camp and finally be able to start earning the grant money that had brought me into the very bowels of Europe. Where the red-throated bat still lived.

I had cashed the cheque last month from the newly formed National Trust For The Preservation Of the Red-Throated Chiroptera. Five thousand pounds for a summer in the mountains, studying the blighters. The Trust reckoned there weren’t many of the things left after more than 45 years of communist mis-rule and wanted to make a start on counting them before bringing their plight to international attention. I was supposed to tag as many as I could and learn something of their behaviour.

I still wondered a bit that the lads at the Trust would use an undergraduate in biology at the University of London to study their pet, but not enough that I ever considered giving the money back. Fortunately, dear old Dad was a successful solicitor in London and I’d talked him into the use of his Land Rover and was on my way to Folkestone and the Tunnel as soon as the cheque was cleared.

Orgasm grew over me, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked down at the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty beneath me. His eyes were closed, perspiration beaded on his forehead and matted his hair. His breathing was ragged as he groaned in Hungarian. His bollocks rode his shaft. My strokes became shorter and harder as I pounded his arse. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the pressure growing in me and exploded.

A glob of come erupted from his dick and arched over his chest to splat across his face. He was on his fourth or fifth orgasm now. His muscles spasmed and grabbed every one of my nine inches buried in him. A second volley belched from his prick and landed on his chest as I exploded deep inside him.

I watched him while we dressed. The deeper into the continent that I’d driven, the heavier the sex-drive of the locals became. I was shagging French arse before I was even out of England. That one had been naked and we were in the backseat of the Land Rover before the train left Folkestone, his feet on the ceiling as I entered him. More French boys, then Germans, and finally Austrians. Even a Yank I gave a ride to in Burgundy. And, now, Hungarians. University students, like me, the Euro lads making their way home for hols.

Before I was fully past Budapest, I saw this beauty with his thumb out. In less than an hour, he had my flies open and was deep throating my pride and joy as we drove along the Danube. That was yesterday. He still hadn’t had enough of my cock; and I was happy enough for the attention. I had him for yet another day, as his village was on the border and I was going his way.

His fingers traced my cock through my shorts as he drew close. "Tonight, you will keep your sausage in me the whole night, yes?" I shrugged. "Tomorrow, I see my fiancee and must begin to give her what she wants; but, tonight, I want what I want."

"I’ll try," said I and climbed into the Land Rover.

Back on the carriageway, I felt him studying me from across the cabin. "What’s wrong?" I finally asked.

"You truly go into Roumania?" he asked. "Into the mountains there?"

"That’s where this bloody bat lives and I was paid a lot of dosh to tag and study them."

"There are tales, Jonathan-" He turned to look out his window. "Legends really - from before the communists. Even before the war-"

"What kind of legends?"

He blushed and chuckled. "You must remember that my people - and the Roumanians - then were very ignorant. Very superstitious, like the gypsies-"

"And?"

"They tell of dead men who rise from their coffins to drink blood. Young men who travelled too deep into the Roumanian Alps sometimes did not come home."

"Count Dracula!" I yelped, trying to swallow the laugh that had made its way to my throat. "He’s been the subject of dozens of horror films in the west - maybe hundreds." I succumbed to the fit of laugher that welled up in me. "He’s always the ugliest bloke in the film." I managed to glance over at the Hungarian lad as I wiped my eyes. "You don’t believe that stuff do you?"

"Be careful with any young man you may meet while you are there, Jonathan." He grinned suddenly and his hand was in my lap. "I would like to think I can have this again sometime."

* * *

I was on the mountain that the lads at the National Trust had selected as having the best likelihood of finding a cave of the little blighters. I had set up camp at the edge of a meadow beside a stream where I could wash. I also started a stash of dead limbs for a fire. I was at a higher elevation than I liked but, then, my research had taught me that the red-throated bat was a cave dweller. A mountain cave dweller to be exact, preferring the tree line or higher. So, I was breathing faster and taking deeper breaths - and my lungs ached from the unaccustomed exercise.

It was nearly twilight when I had cooked my meal of tinned ham and potatoes and began to eat. The chill of the coming night forced me to wrap a blanket around my shoulders.

I felt lonely almost immediately. And horny. I’d had a boy beside me for the past eleven days, each of them offering up his arse for our mutual pleasure. Now, neither my prick nor I had anyone. With the Land Rover well stocked with English food in tins, I reckoned I wouldn’t hear a human voice until I left camp at the end of August, much less have one doing anything to help make us both feel good. I was already slipping into shock at the onset of my sudden celibacy.

Bats squeaked in a sky that was become indigo with but a few streaks of pink and orange left. I shivered in the blanket I’d pulled close around me, moved my arse closer to the fire, and tried to follow their sounds, trying to gauge the direction of their flight. Tomorrow I had to hunt for their caves and hope I found at least one red-throated bat I could report back to London.

I lost all sense of time as I sat there following the sounds of bats across the night sky. Stars twinkled coldly in the chilled, thin air. A wolf howled at the other end of my meadow and was answered by its mate in the forest behind me. They were both far away and I felt no fear of them. I watched flames taste each stick of wood I placed among them and, slowly, begin to feed on it.

A bat glided near me in the dark - a large one - I could feel its passage in the crystal air around me. I knew it had come close, but it didn’t pull my attention to it. It dived down for another inspection and this time I got the impression of something the sise of a cat or even a small dog. I smiled. At least I was still of some interest to something.

I pushed myself to my feet. I glanced in the direction of the stream and shivered again. One thing I was definitely going to have to do was rearrange my hygiene habits. There was no bloody way I was going to freeze my bollocks off to wash myself. Better to do that in late afternoon before the sun started to go down. Definitely. I might shrivel in the daylight, but I could lose my nearest and dearest possession to frostbite as cold as it became with the onslaught of dark.

I climbed into my sleeping bag within the tent and thanked dear old Dad for insisting that I get the down, heat-keeping one at Harrods as I began to warm up. I wondered if the dark-eyed Hungarian was giving his girl his nice cock. I wondered what all of the lads over the years really were thinking about when they took me into their arses. I slept to strange dreams of flying over darkened landscapes and being forever free. And of one screaming giant bat after another pummelling my arsehole in mid-flight. I wasn’t sure if my screams were of pain or of pleasure. I suspected pain because I’d never allowed anyone to get close to my back entrance before.

* * *

The next morning I made real coffee. And drank it before I was ready to face the world. I was addicted. A good French roasted bean beat any instant, and it wasn’t even a contest. Even the Germans made a decent coffee. Fortified and in shorts and vest, I headed up the slope for the tree line and the caves I hoped to find in the rocks there.

I found two caves before I stumbled across the first bat. The blighters in the third were barely longer than my middle finger. Like mice with wings. I understood then why the Germans called bats Fliedermausen - they certainly looked like flying mice. With sharp teeth. I was glad National Health had insisted I be inoculated against rabies and other nasty viruses. The nasty little buggers I’d found didn’t have a slash of red on them, much less near their necks.

It was late afternoon before I returned to my camp. I was perspiring profusely even in the growing chill. My bollocks itched as the hairs of my ball sack caught in my briefs and pulled. I stank. It was definitely time I had a wash.

I stripped off slowly, enjoying the show I put on - even if it was only for me. Naked, all nine inches of my thick, erect cock jutted out ahead of me from its bed of dark ginger. My left hand formed a fist around my dick and slowly began to stroke. My right hand caressed my smooth chest until I moaned. Its forefinger and thumb closed on a nipple then and pulled. I groaned and my hand picked up speed on my stiff member as my eyes closed.

Phantom hands caressed my shoulders and moved down my back until they were kneading my bottom. My prick grew harder as those hands established possession over me. Phantom lips nuzzled my neck and then my shoulders as a phantom dick ploughed the crevice between my arsecheeks. My bollocks tightened in the cooling air.

I was more sexually aroused than I had been during the eleven days I shagged my way across Europe. I wanted to be possessed as I imagined myself being at this moment. I longed for it. I leant forward, offering my back entrance to the phantom dick behind me. I gasped as I imagined it entering me. I shuddered.

I came. Hard. Ejaculate shot out of me to land on grass five feet or more from me. My knees went weak and I sank to the ground.

I sat by the fire wrapped in my blanket and nibbling on a ham and cheese sandwich as darkness descended over my meadow in the Roumanian Alps. My mind flitted from subject to subject like the butterflies I’d seen all morning. I was at peace. I was glad that I had come on this mission.

Bats squeaked, taking their soundings, as the cold stars came out one by one. The wolves from last night howled to each other as they hunted. I took a deep breath and told myself I needed to get to bed. There were more bat caves to explore with the morning sun.

* * *

"It’s Saturday night in Transylvania," I told myself, speaking aloud just to hear my voice. I lit my fire and began to strip off. Of course, it wasn’t night yet. That was another two or three hours away. But it was later than I normally washed and I suspected my bollocks were going to be blue from the cold of the mountain stream. I wanted a warm fire waiting for me.

I had trekked around my mountain the last three days, exploring any cave I could reach easily and some I couldn’t. I had found little bats and large ones, but not a single blighter had a red swab at its throat.

Back from the stream, I stood in front of the fire and dried off quickly - my teeth chattering and my body juddering madly as I did. The sun was just threatening to go down behind the trees to my west and the evening chill had a noticeably nasty bite to it. The gooseflesh that covered my body refused to believe that there was a balmy June evening beginning to cover London.

I scurried to the tent to find warm clothes and reminded myself I really needed to wash some clothes. Soon. Perhaps I’d take my first Saturday in the Carpathians off and do mundane things like wash clothes, I told myself as I pulled on briefs, corduroy trousers, and a flannel shirt.

I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and, leaving the tent, started for the fire and another meal from a tin.

[Who are you?] a voice asked.

I stopped in my tracks and looked around hurriedly. I thought it strange I couldn’t put a direction to the voice. My gaze finally travelled the meadow from my fire to the trees. A man stood there in the shadows.

"I’m Jonathan Harker," I called out. "Who are you?"

[May I join you then, Jonathan Harker?]

I realised the man had no accent at all and thought that passingly strange. "Sure, come on over and sit. I was just about to make dinner, would you join me?" What was he? Another Englishman out here on the side of a Roumanian mountain?

Damned good if he were! In three days, I’d become a bit daft with only myself to talk to. I did not want to think about what my state of mind would be like in three months.

[I shan’t eat,] he said as he stepped closer to the fire. Or closer to me - he seemed to be avoiding the fire, I thought. [But I would like to introduce myself - and meet you, as you appear to be camped on my land.]

I was getting the impossible feeling that what he was saying was appearing directly in my head, none of that muck about bones and nerves knocking together to let the brain hear sounds. The thought of it was more than a bit scary. No school test I’d ever taken had suggested I had ESP, which would leave him with an elevated level of telepathy. Maybe a space creature. I calculated; I was 50 miles from my Hungarian lad’s village and the people there - and they were the last people I’d seen.

I hadn’t realised that I had tensed up until the geezer stepped out of the shadow and I saw his lips moving as he spoke. I relaxed with relief and smiled in real welcome as he drew near.

My cock tingled and started growing slowly across my crotch as I took him in. He wasn’t much older than me but had a boyish face that made him appear younger than me. Brown hair fell onto his forehead. Light brown, almost blond - but not quite. Liquid, brown eyes watched me, intelligent eyes. A scar across his chin. He knew I was checking him out. And a smile that belonged on an imp crossed his face. He had secrets and laughs that he would share - but only if he chose to do so.

He wore hiking boots and corduroy trousers - though of a strangely different cut than mine. He also wore a peasant’s blouse, thin cotton opened to just above the waist, exposing much of his smooth, tight chest. I wanted him. My dick stretched all the way out to my hip and tried to push past its cloth barriers.

"Are you from here then?" I managed to ask, sounding half intelligent. "You speak English so well-" I opened a tin of boiled potatoes and poured them into a pot before placing it beside the fire. I pulled the blanket closer around me and wondered at his thin shirt.

His eyes twinkled and there was an eternity behind them if I ever fell into them. [I am from here,] he told me. [You like my English, Jonathan?]

I like you! I want you! Christ! This lad could get a dead geezer to erect. "What’s your name?" I asked and pulled the lid off the remainder of the ham from three nights ago.

[I am Dracul. Vlad Dracul,] he told me and I had the distinct impression his lips were forming different words than the ones I was hearing. Even that the words I was hearing weren’t coming from his mouth. This time, however, the sense of wrongness didn’t trigger suspicion. My brain simply noted it. As it had the bat guano I’d stepped on in cave after cave the past three days. [Why are you here on my mountain?]

I told him in as few words as possible. About the National Trust and what a wonderful opportunity their programme was for me. How I’d not, however, found even one red-throated bat the past three days. All the while, his eyes twinkled and my prick throbbed. I was trying to pretend it wasn’t there, but there was all this sexual tension between us. Christ! I hoped he wanted me. I’d even let this Vlad take my cherry arse, I was so horny.

He grinned. His whole face got into it, even his eyes. [You are that Jonathan Harker then!]

"I’m the only one I’ve ever met," I told him. "Why?"

He chuckled, a nice sound coming from him. [I am the National Trust for the Preservation of the Red-Throated Chiroptera, Jonathan - it is my money you have travelled on to reach my land. Was the voyage a pleasant one?]

I stared up at the lovely lad standing before me. I was mesmerised by his beauty. By my desire to touch that beauty. All else was forgotten. Or nearly so. I realised that he was dominating me, his beauty was and that, if I weren’t careful, I would soon be a well-buggered lad. The thought both excited me and repelled me.

He stepped closer and took my hand as he squatted beside me. His impish smile told me we were going to have fun. [There is but one red-throated bat left in the world, Jonathan. Me. I would prefer not to be studied too closely. But I have wanted you since first I saw your picture.]

"I-" I was leaning towards him and his face swam towards mine. I felt his lips touch mine, chilled by the night quickly descending upon us. His free hand came up to spread across the back of my head and pushed me harder against him. His tongue slipped between my lips and past my teeth. We were kissing and I was harder than I had ever been.

He sat back on his heels and laughed. [I had hoped - but there is no good way to ask such things as sexual preferences on application forms, is there?] I shook my head slowly, still lost in his eyes studying me. [Eat your dinner then, Jonathan Harker. We have all night to know each other, yes?] An itch began deep in my arse in anticipation as I shovelled the ham in my mouth with the potatoes.

"You’ve wanted me?" I managed, trying to organise the half-formed thoughts sloshing through my brain into questions. Vlad smiled and his fingers caressed my nearest arsecheek. My resistance to him and what he wanted wilted even more. I had had an active sex life as a top with a number of lads the past several years; thinking about it, it seemed a bit illogical not to try what they so obviously had enjoyed. I more than suspected that this lad of the mountain would be the perfect candidate to try it with.

[I have wanted you since I first saw your photograph. The one that came with your application.] He smiled. [But then, I was looking for someone like you. That is why I set up the National Trust in the first place. To find someone who would make my entry into England a smooth one - and pleasant.]

"You’re coming to England then?" I asked around another mouthful of ham and potatoes. His fingers moved upward, slipping under the blanket and exploring the lines of my back through my shirt. My prick strained against its cloth prison. He nodded. "You’re going to give up this?"

[Once, when the world was young, isolation was the safest way to live. Violence was everywhere, no further away than the reach of your arm-]

"It’s still a pretty violent world," I allowed.

[True. But there is law now to stem the violence and sometimes reasonably intelligent men to administer it.]

"Give me a moment while I wash up," I told him and pushed myself to my feet, finished with my dinner. I hurried to the stream and rinsed out my pot quickly. I thought only of him, imagining his naked body against mine. Kissing him. Knowing his cock and learning what it could do for me. For both of us.

I had never lusted for another boy or man as I lusted for Vlad. I had wanted men before, but for my relief. As a cute face plastered against my crotch as the tip of my nine inches worked past his tonsils. A sweating, shivering body reaching for orgasm as I shagged his arse. Those had been my lusts before this night. As I returned to the fire and Vlad, I thought it deucedly strange that I had so suddenly and completely reversed myself. I did not resist the new knowledge but simply accepted it.

I didn’t see him as I returned. "Vlad?" I said, barely giving breath to his name. I reached the fire and still saw nothing of him. "Vlad?" I called, louder.

[I await you in your bed, Jonathan,] he called. [Our bed to be. Come to me now.] His voice was low and sultry, as close as my ear. I realised that too; yet, my brain refused to question yet another piece of strangeness about the man who had come into my life only to possess me completely.

I couldn’t get into the tent fast enough. He lay nude on top of the bedding, his skin palely translucent in the faint light from the fire. His cock was a flag pole jutting straight out from a dark bed of pubis. I threw the blanket off my shoulders and my fingers attacked the buttons of my flannel shirt. A small smile covered his face as he watched me strip off.

I did not feel the night chill as I squatted to take off my boots. I did not feel it when I stood back up and pushed my trousers and underwear over my hips and stepped out of them. I stood naked before him. For his inspection. And my body was aglow with heat.

[Do you want me, Jonathan?]

Want him? I craved him like a smoker needing a nicotine fix. Like an addict needing heroin. I nodded numbly.

[Even now that you know who I am?]

Who he was? Did I know that? Who then? My brain began to work - feverishly. But logically. There was no fear, no rejection, as I touched one fact after another. One happening that, I could see, tied to another.

Yes, I knew him. He was the Hungarian lad’s legends come true. He was the fear of the unknown come true. He was Dracula.  The Count Dracula.

"You’ve not spoken to me once, have you, Sir?" I asked, subdued before my new knowledge and recognition of his title. "I mean, with your tongue and lips and breath?"

He chuckled. [How can I? I speak no English.]

"Mind to mind," I mumbled. "No need for language-" I stared down at him, fixing his image in my mind’s eye. "How old are you, my Lord?"

[Close enough to 600 years that it does not matter."

Count Dracula, all right. Also Vlad the Impaler. Vlad Dracul, overlord of the far eastern borders of Austria and Hungary when the Turks decided to invade Europe.

"Did you really impale all those poor Turks, Sir?" I asked.

[Poor Turks?] I felt the disbelief behind his thought. [They would have beheaded my men if I didn’t kill them first. I had had enough. There was nothing to stop them between where I stood and the Emperor - except me and my soldiers. We had enough prisoners. I had their heads cut off and put on stakes. It smelled but it also sent their comrades running-]

I felt his thoughts touch mine and then pull back. [Jonathan, I will not control you. Sex with me and the future course of your life must be yours to decide with no influence from me. To this, I have committed myself. I would have you. I want you. But you must decide. Now.]

"My future?" I asked hesitantly.

[If you will join me in immortality or grow old and die.]

Hmmmm ... That didn’t seem to be much of a choice - even without thinking about it. There were only dear old Dad and the housekeeper. I didn’t think they would mind. Give the old girl a nice stipend and Dad a juicy case - no, they wouldn’t mind. Then there was Vlad’s 600 years - I wondered what London would be like in AD 2600. What the world would be like.

"I’m yours," I told him and lay beside him. I turned to face him. "Just be gentle with me, Sir. It’s my first time."

He pulled me to him then. As our lips touched, his fingers found my arse crevice. [This is mine first,] he told me as our tongues duelled. I pressed against him, my fingers finding his cockskin and pulling it over his helmet.

He rolled me onto my back with him lying on top of me. My legs parted and he slipped between them, his dick oozing precome onto my bollocks.

My tongue found his fangs and I jerked beneath him. [It will not hurt, Jonathan. You will hardly notice the transition.]

I pulled away from his lips and his tongue. "I want to notice it!" I growled. "It’s going to be the only time I changed from being human to being a-" I gazed into his eyes and smiled as I fell into them and continued to sink.

[You will, Jonathan. I only meant that it will be painless. And it will not be tonight at any rate.] I stared up at him and made to protest. I had never been one to put off getting what I had decided I wanted. [You must get us both to London - with your vehicle - before you completely join me.]

My legs felt weightless and rose slowly up along his sides as his gaze held mine. The tip of his prick slipped under my ball sack as my ankles crossed behind his neck and my arse rose off the sleeping bag to meet his cock.

In the woods behind us, a wolf howled as the count’s cock found my puckered entrance and he leant into me to kiss me. Far across the meadow, the wolf’s mate answered as Dracula began to ease into me.

I was expecting pain. The virgins I’d shagged through the years had certainly shown enough of it when we’d got down to the nasty. Instead, his cockhead met no resistance as it pushed through my sphincter. [I have taught your body to relax, that is all,] he told me as his prick slid into me and buried itself into me. I ground my arse experimentally on him buried deep in my bowel. I felt the fullness he gave me and the massage of my prostate that my grinding provided. My eyes bulged as pleasure began to radiate out of my arse.

He broke from our kiss as he began to plough me. I groaned as I rode this new pleasure, and his lips began to nibble at my ear. His strokes were slow and long, waves of pleasure rose in my arse and crashed through my body, and I rode them. My hard cock rode between our bodies and my bollocks tightened quickly.

I gasped when I felt the rasp of the count’s tongue on my neck and rode another wave of endless pleasure and forgot his mouth. I groaned my ecstasy as his fangs bit through my skin and bucked up to meet his slow thrust into me. I exploded between us as he began to lap at my neck and continued to fuck my arse.

My dick stayed hard and Dracula continued to shag my arse. He continued to lap at the blood welling at my neck as I writhed under him, caught up in pleasures as high as mountains crashing down on me. Pleasures I had never imagined. Pleasures I would know through eternity.

Again, my bollocks rode the shaft of my prick. I rose into a technicoloured sky as I climbed swiftly towards another orgasm. "Come with me!" I growled and grabbed his arsecheeks to direct his thrusts. "Give it to me."

He sped up his rhythm, his thrusts came short and fast. Pushing me. Forcing me. I went over the edge and sailed the technicoloured sky. Riding the wind. Forever.

His crotch crashed against my inner thighs and pressed hard to them. I wheezed as I pulled great gasps of air into my lungs. Only slowly did I become aware of him on his knees still between my legs watching me, that impish grin making his eyes twinkle.

[Will you be mine, Jonathan?] he asked, his fingertips brushing my smooth chest.

"Will I?" I growled. "Just try stopping me, Count Dracula!"

[Good. I will meet you back here tomorrow late in the afternoon - you will be packed by then?]

"Where are you going?" I demanded.

He laughed. [There is one thread of truth about us in the old legends - we do poorly in the sunlight. And I have treasure since before the Nazis came to Roumania and Hungary.] He traced my lips with his finger. [Besides, I shall need money once I am in your country - unless you intend to support me.]