Cursed twin
1.
"Pashkaaa," Inga whined once again, stomping after the guy along a narrow forest path, "stop dodging, just spill it already, what kind of surprise did you decide to set up here?"
"Dragged me to the back of beyond," the girl grumbled, looking around. The sun was setting below the horizon, taking the blessed warmth with it, the air had noticeably freshened.
A face with big eyes
and a pouty mouth, a long, thick red braid, a shapely, appetizing figure with slender legs. She was wearing short denim shorts and a jacket, a tight black tank top, and a small leather backpack that held all her simple, essential girl stuff. When Pasha said they were going on an outing into nature, he insisted she wear high boots with thick soles. Anyway, despite the hiking conditions, Inga was still anticipating a passionate tête-à-tête in the future, and so she dressed in a way that even the hiking version emphasized her curves in the most tempting way. She would be his Lara Croft.It all started with her wanting to spend a romantic night in some unusual place. Well, what's the big deal? All girls express such a desire from time to time. Who knew Pasha would take the matter so seriously. No, honestly, a dinner on the beach or something like that would have suited her just fine, you know, what they show in romantic movies—a warm blanket, a crackling campfire, a bottle of red wine for two, and a starry sky overhead, so deep and black it seems you're about to tip over into it.
Inga obediently followed the guy, annoyed that because of the backpack on his back, she couldn't see where the path led, so all she could do was stare around. Turning her head once more, the girl instantly froze: between the tree trunks, among the young growth, leaned crooked crosses, blackened...
"P... Pasha..." — the evening fog spread like a milky veil over the lowlands, making the sight even more eerie — "is that... a cemetery?!"
"Oh, yeah," Pashka chuckled, "it's very old. Don't be afraid, everyone lying here is peaceful. There was even a chapel here before the revolution, though nothing's left of it now."
"Stop right there, you lousy tour guide!" — In two leaps, Inga caught up with the guy and grabbed his arm, hanging on like an anchor. "If you don't tell me right now where we're heading at this hour, I'm turning back!" — Whatever else, even peaceful dead people didn't fit her idea of romance.
Pashka exhaled noisily, reluctantly averting his gaze; ideally, he wanted to keep the intrigue until the last moment, but Inga was determined.
"Alright," the guy gave in, taking her hand and leading her further down the path, "a friend told me about this place. You might remember him, the one studying history. Well, they came here for one of their summer field trips, had some excavations or something. Not the point, really. Anyway, not far from this cemetery, there was a real nobleman's estate. Almost nothing's left of it now, but among the local old-timers, there's still a legend about the cursed twin."
"Cursed twin?" she repeated. Curiosity flared up in Inga. She loved to get her nerves tingling with all sorts of scary stories, but Hollywood thrillers with clichéd tropes no longer satisfied her jaded imagination. "Tell me."
"Listen," — Pasha's warm palm tightly squeezed her fingers, while his focused gaze was fixed ahead. "The story began shortly before the war of 1812. The local landowner was an old count who had two twin sons. It so happened that when Napoleon announced the invasion, one of the brothers went off to fight the French, and the second stayed with their elderly father. Soon, the old man received news that his son had heroically laid down his life on the battlefield for the Fatherland. The count's heart couldn't bear the loss, and he died suddenly, and the second brother entered into his lawful inheritance rights."
"Sad," Inga sighed.
"Listen further. About a year after these events, people started dying in the area. I don't know how, but the villagers concluded that a vampire was to blame, and moreover, there were witnesses who saw someone resembling the young count near the body of the last victim."
"No way!" Inga gaped. "Just sat right over the corpse waiting to be noticed? I don't believe it!"
"Well, the peasants didn't conduct an investigation," Pasha continued, "they armed themselves with pitchforks, clubs, set the estate on fire. The count was captured and killed according to all the rules of folk superstition—a stake driven through his heart, his head cut off, a sack of stones tied to his body, and drowned in a swamp."
"How awful," Inga even shrank. "Wouldn't wish that on an enemy. And what? Now the ghost of the innocently killed wanders the area, scaring tourists?"
"Better," the guy's eyes gleamed. "They say the vampire really was the count's offspring. Only they killed the wrong one..."
"What?!"
"If you believe the legend, the cursed twin never found peace."
2.
What constituted the "count's ruins" could hardly even be called ruins. If anything remained after the legendary fire, now it was just stones of a once-solid foundation, remnants of buildings that were barely discernible from the grass and moss. If people don't intervene, the forest will soon completely swallow this place.
"Damn, you really outdid yourself," Inga grumbled, watching Pavel set up the tent. "To arrange a night's stay next to an old cemetery, and on the ruins of a destroyed estate, whose owner was killed because they decided he was a vampire!"
"But you like such stories," the guy smirked without turning around. "Who bought all the 'Twilight' parts, was it me?"
"Don't confuse your ass with your finger!" Inga flared up. Yes, she liked vampire movies, she even thought guys with fangs were sexy. Last Halloween, Inga made Pashka wear fake fangs. But it's one thing to have fun on the couch at home and quite another to settle in here. She'd never fall asleep in such a place in her life!
The girl reached into her bag, took out tissues, then grabbed a flashlight:
"I'm going to pee."
"Uh-huh, don't forget the garlic," he responded.
"Why?" she didn't understand.
"In case a vampire grabs your butt while you're tinkling under a bush without panties."
"Idiot!" Inga barked and, turning around, rushed behind the trees.
"If anything—call!" Pashka laughed after her.
No, rationally she understood he was just teasing her, but he should know his limits too. Her nerves were already on edge, and Pashka was joking around like crazy. What was he even thinking when he decided to bring her to this place?
Having satisfied her little need, the girl pulled up her shorts, took the flashlight, and was about to return when her attention was drawn to something in the blackberry thickets resembling an entrance to a dungeon. Inga rushed back as if she really could be snatched and dragged into the gaping stone maw of impenetrable darkness. Naturally, she told Pavel about the find.
"You mean to say you could stay calm, not knowing what's down there?" — Armed with a camping hatchet and grabbing a lantern, Pashka headed in the direction Inga indicated. She nervously hopped after him, mentally cursing her big mouth. Should have kept quiet, then she wouldn't have to go poking around anywhere. No, Pashka offered her to stay by the tent and wait for him, but who in their right mind would agree to that?
"Over there," Inga pointed to a shallow ravine overgrown with wild blackberries. On its opposite side, at the very edge, grew a huge sprawling oak, and below, under its thick roots sliding down the slope, a mysterious passage gaped black. "Maybe, forget it?" — the girl fearfully grabbed the guy's hand. "Let's go back."
"No way, since we're here, we need to find out what this is," — lighting the way ahead with the flashlight, Pashka began to descend. Turning, he extended a hand to Inga: "Don't be afraid, it's unlikely to be anything serious, everyone and their mother has been here already—from historians to black diggers." — They approached the entrance. The guy carefully pushed aside the blackberry vines and illuminated the dark maw. "Wouldn't be surprised if this tunnel was an escape route, in case they needed to leave the estate secretly, they used to make those in castles. Or maybe it was just a food storage. Careful, the steps are badly collapsed here..."
The dark narrow passage led down several dozen meters. porn stories In the end, they found themselves in a spacious room with a fairly high vaulted ceiling and numerous niches. It was noticeably colder in the dungeon than outside.
"Damn, what an icebox here," Inga shivered, sliding the flashlight beam along the stone walls. At the far end, several rectangular stone sarcophagi lit up. "Holy crap! Pashka, this is definitely a crypt!" the girl exclaimed.
"Doesn't look like it," the guy doubted, "this is most likely an icehouse, and those—analogs of refrigerators. They packed them with ice and stored food that way."
"Stop being a smartass, let's get out of here already," Inga nervously looked around, "this place gives me the creeps."
"Come here, there's nothing scary here," he smiled, standing next to one of the stone boxes. "Think about it, when will you ever have such an adventure again."
As soon as Inga approached, the guy grabbed her arm and impulsively pulled her to himself:
"I can't take it anymore," he rasped, "you're trembling so much it's driving me crazy." — Pashka pressed against her so hard she couldn't help but feel his flesh straining with desire. "Inga, I want you!" — the guy literally pounced on his girlfriend, crushing all awkward attempts at resistance.
Her heart raced from wild doses of adrenaline; they'd never had such crazy sex before. He pushed Inga onto her back on the icehouse slab covered with a thick layer of dust and, while their tongues intertwined in a lustful dance to the accompaniment of ragged breathing, his unruly fingers almost tore the fastener on her shorts. Finally, yanking the girl's bottom bare, Pavel lifted Inga's legs high and predatorily latched onto her musky-scented pussy. In the process, her shorts along with her panties slid unnoticed to the floor.
"Ah! Ow!" the girl cried out, clumsily digging her fingers into his hair. "Not... not so hard!... Pa... Pashka!.."
Breaking the suction, he began to practically blindly explore her slit with his wet tongue. The tip resiliently parts the petals of her labia, tickles the tiny urethral opening, a little higher finds and caresses the sweet clit, then slides down again and screws into the dampened vagina. Just think how she's trembling now! Her vagina pulses hotly, as if sucking on his tongue. Inga's fingers helplessly scratch his nape, trying to press the hot male mouth even tighter to her gaping crotch.
"Ngh! Mmm... Ummm!" — her thighs tensed and twitched, her butt danced over the stone slab, foretelling a sweet spasm soon. Pavel frantically began licking and sucking his girlfriend's clitoris, simultaneously trying to quickly free his rock-hard cock from his jeans. The painfully throbbing flesh gained freedom literally a second before Inga, whimpering thinly, arched and thrashed in desired ecstasy.
Letting his girlfriend enjoy the first wave of orgasmic convulsions, Pavel pulled the girl off the slab and, turning her back to him, drove the shaft of his cock into her flowing, trembling slit. Inga howled rapturously like a hungry bitch and, sticking out her butt, leaned back, impaling herself deeper on the phallus. A hoarse moan of pleasure turned into a greedy, carnivorous male growl. Squeezing the fragile female shoulders with his fingers, the guy went berserk, pounding the hot, slippery insides. Inga was tossed like a shuttle on a loom, she choked on her own moans, but that wasn't enough for him. He made her split, placing one foot on the lid of the stone refrigerator, and continued to fuck her, feeling the head now butting against her uterus.
Pashka seemed to have gone off the rails: his cock beat like a hot piston in the tightness of her vagina, stretching the sweetly aching walls with its hard shaft. His fingers dug into her body, unwilling to release the coveted prey. The lower part of his male belly slapped loudly against her buttocks, with each thrust building up unbearably itching excitement inside more and more. Squeezing her eyes shut and surrendering to the sensations, Inga frankly reveled in the process. As soon as the cock began to work her uterus, her insides seemed to sweetly stretch, opening up to meet the blows of the male spear:
"Yes, yes, yessss," she rasped, feeling the cock inside her tense and tremble in anticipation of ecstasy. Her uterus shuddered and sharply contracted, fiercely squeezing the phallus in the greedy embrace of her vagina.
"Aaagh!" — the male groan behind her was replaced by distinct convulsions, and hot volleys of semen splashed into Inga. Relaxing, she allowed herself to slump onto the icehouse slab, feeling with her butt how the male hips continued to thrash in sweet agony, and fingers strongly scratched the skin of her buttocks.
"God, you're just a beast today," Inga smiled tiredly, catching her breath. Reaching for the flashlight, she turned around, shining it in her beloved's face. The yellowish light pulled from the darkness long, slender fingers clamped over Pavel's mouth, and a fair-haired male head bent over his neck, twisted to the side. Still stunned by the orgasm, she didn't immediately realize who this stranger was, why he was holding her guy so tightly in his embrace, and why such a strange grimace was frozen on Pasha's face...
3.
The head lifted slightly, and two dark, thin streams ran down Pavel's neck. Lingering in the hollow above the collarbone, they, now united, flowed behind the collar of his T-shirt, spreading into a dark stain on the fabric. It finally dawned on Inga that this was...
"B... b... blood?!!" — her heart suddenly stung with a needle, her voice unnaturally broke into a falsetto. Her body shook with chills, the flashlight beam darted around. Inga pressed herself in horror against the stone of the icehouse, feeling her knees treacherously buckling. He raised his head, looked at the girl, and his clearly defined, aristocratic mouth stretched into a predatory, fanged grin. She stared at the stranger's blood-stained lips, then shifted her glassy gaze to her boyfriend and suddenly let out a thin howl, sliding to the floor. She must have gone mad, but standing before her now was... a vampire!
"Now, now, my dear, don't tear your heartstrings," the bloodsucker purred. "Your beau is still quite viable. For now," he added mockingly. The vampire unclenched his hands and Pashka collapsed onto the floor like a doll. Inga shuddered, glancing sideways at the body. She was afraid to let the ghoul out of her sight, though it probably wouldn't help if he decided to attack. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for interrupting your hot tête-à-tête, but alas, my good manners have long since passed away. However, out of male solidarity, I honestly allowed him to bring the lady to the sweet peak."
Her stomach jerked and something flowed from her vagina down her crotch. Inga suddenly remembered she was completely naked below the waist and tried to cover her shame by pulling her tank top lower. The vampire noisily inhaled the air, stepped towards her, and knelt on one knee:
"It's been a long time since I've smelled this scent so close," his voice instantly grew hoarse, cold fingers slid into her crotch. Inga shrieked