Vampire Stag Weekend - Sex Stories

Vampire Stag Weekend

... that someone have found your wallet and you may come to collect”. He showed me an address that was scribbled down. With a little bit of hand waving and a few more scribbled directions, I learnt that it was certainly not the address of the club we had been on last night and in fact it was somewhere out in the country. The hotelier stuck the address into a map on the reception computer and declared that I was to get to it by getting a bus to an out of town Tescos of all things. As I passed the bar to leave again, I saw three things, one was the pair of Londoners, now tucking in to their breakfast, the second was Dom, now struggling downstairs, a little bit of sick still clinging to his shirt and the third was a massive Bulgarian guy with a Kalashnikov Tours t-shirt heading in to the hotel. Likely a pick up for the shooting event we had booked for the day. Given the lack of Pete and my mild reluctance to get between the posh Londoners, the manky Manc and the big Slav with guns, I thought it would probably be easiest just to carry on out and find my wallet myself before anyone else was any the wiser. I made another little stop at Dom's night stand to grab the remainder of his spare change and the few loose notes he had in his wallet and then headed out to the central bus station. I joined quite a long queue of ancient old ladies on a pretty ancient old steel bus out towards Tescos. It was a beautiful morning and it was not long before the bus had left the city proper and we ...

... were streaming through what looked like quite lush farmland. I spotted wheat, corn, barley and even a few hills with winding vineyards. It was certainly not the impoverished country I had in my mind before we had come. The sun was streaming in the window and I could not have felt more dumb about what had happened the night before. I was certainly considering whether I could convince the rest of the group to help me find the club again in the hope I might have another shot at the beautiful Lonela. After what must have been forty minutes or so of pleasant country driving, the big supermarket loomed out of nowhere, apparently just in the middle of a load of fields. The bus stopped and the old ladies and I got off. I followed the hastily drawn directions on my bit of paper from the hotel and found a path that ran round the back of the shop. From there I headed through the middle of a beautiful corn field. The last of the morning mist had burned off and the sun was now lazing through a few last whispy clouds. The ripe heads of corn swayed gently in a wholly pleasant breeze. After a good half hour stride through the fields and up a slight hill, the supermarket was not much more than a big grey dot behind me and I was really pushing in to what seemed like endless farmland. The path was a good one however and there had been no dubious turn off choices so I was confident in my direction. Almost as quickly I found myself on a deserted dirt track that led me up to the end of a grandiose ...