Vampire Stag Weekend - Sex Stories

Vampire Stag Weekend

... red velvet dress was largely backless showing off a long tanned back that disappeared into fabric folds just above the jut of her beautifully rounded swaying bum. She glanced back and caught me looking, letting her tinkling glass like laugh escape as she pulled me through a doorway and into a room. She danced, spinning around behind me locking what looked like a big steel vaulted door. “Now we are in private. There are no cameras and the door is locked from the inside, Bulgarian ways are different from your English ways.” She span around me again, holding my eye contact, her head immobile with the turn like a ballet dancer. She pulled me deeper into the dark room which seemed to be thickly decorated with ornate hanging silks, so dense that they effectively curtained off any area more than a few feet in front of my face. I followed by the pull of her hand, but the leading girl now obscured from sight by the soft drapes. Presently we found ourselves in something like an inner chamber. Lonela pushed me gently down on what seemed to be a low futon or giant seat shaped cushion. I sank backwards and stared up at her standing in the soft glow of some veiled bulb behind me. She was a vision to behold, running up from her patent high heeled shoes her long shapely brown legs disappearing into the split of her skirt. She bent down and smoothed my cheek before spinning out through a cloud of drapes out of sight. A soft, low jazz number with a deep base started up in the background, ...

... perfectly matched to the decadent Arabian tent-like atmosphere of the room. I fancied that there was some sort of scented smoke started to be pumped in, what little clarity of vision starting to become enveloped in it and some heady sweet wooded scent filled my nostrils. Unexpectedly, Lonela drifted silently out from one of the silks hanging behind me, grazing her hand across my shoulder and up, across my face as she did. She had changed from her dress into what looked like a very long red silk kimono and a floating silk cape that followed her. She span in front of me, silk skirts spiralling out as she did. As she span she writhed and twisted her body, often covered in silk but stopping with pauses through which she revealed her face or a bent over view down to her chest. Girl and silk at times span so fast that it was hard to know which way up she was. I laid back and enjoyed the show as she crept closer to me. Lonela straddled my stretched out ankles, facing away from me and sat down on my thighs. I felt the full weight of her body lean and twist back into me, the smooth of her lips as they brushed my neck, arching herself over backwards. Then she leant forwards and quickly, undid and pulled me out of my shoes, socks and trousers. I started to protest but she span round to face me, a whirl of dark lipstick and silk and put her finger to my lips. “Bulgarian ways are not English ways”, as she unbuttoned and removed my shirt. The room was warm and inviting, it was comfortable ...