"Cheapskates," Rocky said aloud, "they won't even spring for the cost of keeping the lights lit out here after midnight. What this place needs . . ." He let his voice trail off as he let his right hand wander across the solid sweep of pectoral muscles that sheathed his broad chest. Good genes, and the use of a good gym on campus, yeah! he told himself as he slid both hands down his torso, feeling the hard ripple of his abdominal muscles under his bare skin --
-- and stopped in mid-stride, staring down at his naked body. "What the double-damned fuck is going on?" he asked. "One minute I'm in uniform, but now -- I'm . . ." He reached up and found his police cap still on his head. "Well, almost naked. But . . ." He turned, looked back the way he'd come, saw no trace of his police uniform on the trail -- just his gun belt and holstered revolver. He picked them up and tightened the belt around his waist. "Damn -- this makes me feel even nakeder than before. I look nakeder, too," he said, looking down at his stiffening shaft. He turned again, unsure of what to do next. "I could keep going, or --"
"--or ?" asked a voice.
"Who's that?" Rocky asked.
"Just little ol' me."
"Just -- who are you?"
"Call me Eowan." A misty shape slowly condensed from the darkness -- "condensed" wasn't quite the right word -- "took shape"? Rocky blinked, blinked again. He stepped forward; Eowan -- man or woman, he couldn't quite tell -- stepped back, knelt gracefully, and lay back on the mossy ground. Rocky knelt between Eowan's spread thighs and leaned forward, catching his weight on his hands. Rocky thrust with his hips; cool fingers guided his shaft to an opening between those thighs -- an opening that somehow sucked his glans in, then drew the rest of his shaft in deep until his crotch was clamped tightly against Eowan's.
"And what are you?" asked Rocky, as he pulled back a few inches, then thrust himself all the way in again. The passage tightened around him with a grip that rippled from the base of his prong to the glans and then back.
"As for what -- your choice. Watch."
Rocky straightened his arms and looked down, between their linked bodies. As he watched, Eowan's body morphed into the physique of a gymnast with clearly defined muscles, while a hardening cock and plump balls sprouted from his crotch.
"Or if you'd rather . . ." Contours softened; the balls and prong shrank.
"No, no; the other way's fine -- unless . . ."
"Your choice." Eowan -- definitely a "he" again, grinned as Rocky settled his chest down onto Eowan's well-muscled thighs.
Climax came quickly -- too quickly, Rocky told himself, as he pumped his load into Eowan. Only -- he kept on pumping, on and on into a rhythm of thrust-squirt-withdraw, thrust-squirt- withdraw -- and on and on and on!, while Eowan sucked in everything Rocky pumped out.
"I have never -- ever -- had a fuck like this," Rocky panted. "You're -- you're not much into foreplay, are you?"
"You know what parents always tell their children -- `don't play with your food.' "
"Then -- then you are the one who's been leaving bodies around when you've -- ah -- finished with them?"
"I am." He tightened his arms around Rocky's chest. "Want to kiss? Some studs I've fed on --"
Without missing a stroke, Rocky said, "Kiss you? I shouldn't even be doing this!" then chuckled. "Old joke, like the one that ends with `Oy, have you got the wrong vampire.' But no, I'm not supposed to do any kissing now; I'm still on duty --"
"Do the rules say anything about fucking?"
"The Dean would die before he used that word!" Rocky chuckled again. "Let's just call this a late-night picnic supper in the woods. And since fucking you is so fucking much fun, I kind of like being the main course."