Vampire Stag Weekend - Sex Stories

Vampire Stag Weekend

... of the street. “I guess we are not paying then right?” he continued. I laughed back, the idiocy of having just dropped the most beautiful girl I'd ever met mid-fuck because of having thought her one of the un-dead washing over me immediately. Skipping on the cheque was clearly a much better excuse. “Yep, that's it man, they were going to rip us off”, I gave back. We managed to hail a cab and get ourselves back to the hotel. As we got there, I realised that I'd dropped my wallet in my panicked exit from the club so Pete had to pay. I put it out of my mind, I was just happy to be back to the relative safety of the known hostel and had full intention of just sleeping off everything that had gone on. The two of us bundled through the hotel doorway and made our way down the wooden hall. As we rounded the bottom of the stairs, we heard British voices from the bar. Pete overtook me to slap two crisp shirted Londoners on the back. He turned to me and introduced them as the last two in the party who had just come in on the London flight. I don't remember much of the conversation. They had been delayed, and seemed determined to describe everything from the taxi ride, to the hotel to the dinner which they had just finished as 'ghastly'. It sounded as through they had tried to rouse the others who had clearly remained as out out of it as when we had left them. They pointed out that I looked a mess, which was true as I stood there in bare feet and only Pete's jacket around my shoulders. ...

... I remember getting jeered as a 'lightweight Northern monkey' as I made my excuses and left the three of them sitting there, Pete in full flow over the story of his interlude with the two girls. 2 My head felt like there was a building site in it when I woke up the next morning. Sun was streaming through the one little window and assaulting my senses. Dom had been sick on the floor between our beds but seemed to still be happily sleeping on. I showered and stumbled out across what had become a fresh lively cobbled street in the clear crisp morning air. There was no sight of any of the rest of the gang so I sat and got a coffee in a pavement café across from our hotel. I had managed to steal just enough change from Dom's pukey night stand to cover it. Recollections from the night before washed over me and I tried to shut them out. I had never felt like such an idiot;- having run away from the most beautiful girl I had ever met while in in mid session and having left my wallet and clothes behind on top of it. I started to call the card companies to cancel them all. The coffee restored me to my usual self. With all the jollity of the penniless hobo that I had become, I staggered back in to the hotel to wake up the rest of the gang. As I passed the desk, the cheerful owner shouted to ask me if I was indeed Mr Miller (I am). I went back to him and he passed me a note which I summarily returned to him and asked him to translate to English. “We have taken a phone message which say ...