Vampire Stag Weekend - Sex Stories

Vampire Stag Weekend

... A round or two of wine or beer followed and we relaxed in the company of Lonela, who despite a slight clip to her accent, had near perfect English and was the perfect hostess being extremely well travelled but also patient enough to explain local interests. As she talked, I think we both fell fell for her a little bit. I could not help but watch the way her full red lips moved, beautifully forming English words with foreign vowels, often pinning her straw in the corner of her mouth mid-sentence without interruption. I sensed she knew I was fixed, every now and then smiling slightly wider as she talked to Pete but flicking a glance to me out of the corner of her green eyes. At last she put down an empty glass and then asked us if we were ready to go. We were both slightly caught aback, not knowing where she meant. “Well to watch beautiful girls dance of course”, she purred. We both stopped, caught and embarrassed like naughty school boys. “I know a place that you will both very much enjoy”, she finished as she stroked Pete's cheek. We both watched her as she strode off to get her coat. A quick little hi-five passed between the two of us behind her back, we were indeed naughty school boys and this was going to be great. As she disappeared round the corner, Piotre the barman who had been in a huff made a line for us down the bar, ushering us in close to him. “I serious, Piotre tell you. Must not be love by beautiful womens tonight and if you do then you must to put dick in ...

... correct hole, it not have teeth.” I held back a snort of laughter seeing that he looked deathly earnest as he spat it out, his hands shaking, eyes watering. Then he jumped back, Lonela had some how got her coat on and was behind us. She shouted something quick and guttural and Slavic at him, the hard edge of Russian banning any hint of the beautiful Mediterranean accent in her native tongue. Piotre winced and skipped back, retreating quickly down the bar. Lonela led us out of the bar into the cold night air. She seemed to simply raise her hand on the side-walk and a long black limo pulled up almost instantly. A quick exchange with the driver made me think that it was in fact probably her own one. The three of us got into the back and sat facing each other in a circle on big comfy black leather seats. I pulled out Piotre's scribbled beer mat and proffered it to her as a suggested address as she chatted to the driver. She smiled back at me, the hardness having now gone again from her voice and returned the mat, telling me that she knew a place that we would like much better. “In fact it is my place”. Pete and I looked at each other, the creeping realisation that we had just jumped in a car we didn't know with a woman who had just picked us up. “Your place? I thought we were going to a club?” I asked. “Oh we are, I run a place down town, you are really going to like it. We will find a perfect girl for Peter's last night”, she responded, smiling at me and locking me again in her ...