The last leg of our trip to Spain was in Seville, the romantic capital of Andalusia.
The perfect ending to an unforgettable vacation. We were staying in a four-star hotel near the Guadalquivir and the bridge of Briana, a strategic and suggestive location.
The first day was a full immersion in the endearing atmosphere of this beautiful city. We particularly loved the architecture of Plaza de Espana, in particular, the gondola ride in the semicircular pond. However, learning how to use the paddles and try to avoid bumping the other boats, made the activity more hilarious than romantic.
In the evening we attended a Flamenco show in a small and intimate theater La Casa della Memoria. Anna and I love this Spanish tradition which embodied will, force, beauty, and passion through the sexual energy and raw emotions of the performers. We ended the evening with a late dinner in a tapas restaurant nearby, and steamy lovemaking in our hotel room.
The whole vacation in Andalusia has been truly special, but the second evening in Seville will remain in our memory forever. The day was crossed by an odd breeze for this region, a blessed relief while standing in line under the hot sun, along hundreds of tourists like us. We visited the magnificent Cathedral with the tomb of Christopher Columbus, the Giralda Tower, and the Real Alcazar.
Late that afternoon we returned to the Hotel, exhausted and we laid on the bed for a while before ordering a selection of snacks and a pitcher of white Sangria. We were tired but very much in the mood to have a good time with something special, something exciting without locking ourselves in a nightclub or a concert.
So we decided to go down to the reception for suggestions. There we met Alfonso, a middle age and distinguished man, that spoke proper English. Alfonso suggested attending the Bullfight of Novilladas, which every Thursday introduces the young Matadors to the public.
He told us that tickets for these events were relatively inexpensive and easy to find, you can purchase them directly before the show at the ticket office in Plaza de Toros. We were still undecided about what to do, despite the many holidays in Spain. We had never attended a Bullfight, which was in our opinion a show cruel and unjust.
But Alfonso insisted that everyone in their lifetime must attend a Bullfight. After all, this is Spain's greatest tradition, and there would be no better place to do it than the most prestigious Arena in the World, La Real Maestranza de Caballería de Sevilla. Eventually, Alfonso persuaded us, so we returned to the room and began to get ready. The show started at nine, and we still had to go to dinner.
I opted for a classic natural colored linen suit while Anna decided for a white floor-length gown. The semi-sheer dress had a seductive and uncovered back and a sultry side-boob design. Obviously, the dress was intended to be worn without a bra, but Anna decided to up the game going commando for the night. She completed the look with a pair of cork sandals heels and an elegant white linen scarf. She was gorgeous, as usual.
For dinner, we wanted to go eat the paella at one of the stands of the old market in the Arena de Barrio but the whole Market closed at 8:00. So we chose a restaurant we noticed earlier in the afternoon, suitably called Boca a Boca, which inspired us with its sensual flair.
We arrived at the bullfight in perfect time. The arena and the whole choreography were absolutely splendid but sadly did not change your mind; killing animals in this fashion is still cruel and unjust.
Just like Friedrich Nietzsche said: "Man is the cruelest animal. At tragedies, bullfights, and crucifixions, he has so far felt best on earth; and when he invented hell for himself, behold, that was his very heaven."
Looking on a brighter side, the Matadors were brave, young and sexy in their tight white pants and boleros, and the ghosts of Hemingway, Manolete and Dominguin hovered in the air.
We enjoyed the cold and inexpensive beer and my Anna managed to make the show enjoyable. During the entire performance, I watched her tits accidentally falling out of her dress. I loved the way she tucked them back in, stretching the skimpy fabric to cover her 36C tits.
Incredibly, she was not annoyed by the nuisance but rather amused; to my delight and that of two young boys who were sitting next to us and kept their eyes glued to her for the entire evening.
After the show, we decided to wrap up the evening with a cocktail in one of the many clubs scattered on the avenue along the river. Then we came across the Bombay Kiosk, a crowded little bar that enticed us right away. It seemed to be intriguing and vibrant with cocktails names that sounded creative and colorful.
We realized that many of the patrons were Hookah's smokers. The waiter told us that tobacco was available if we want to try it. This reminds us of the old days when we used the hookah to smoke the more exotic stuff, to say the least. Now being older and maybe wiser, we worried about the hygiene and the consequences and opted for an old-fashioned Moscow Mule instead.
While we waited for our drinks, our table was approached by a young fellow selling bouquet of roses. He introduced himself as Joe, singing a cool a cappella rendition of "Can't Help Falling in Love." He was soulful and passionate.
Oddly, he kept singing and hanging around our table, obviously attracted by the sideways generosity of the dress. We were flattered, but his pushiness began to annoy the other patrons. To the point that at the insistence of a customer, perhaps a little too jealous, a waiter asked him to leave. However, before he left, we bought a small bouquet of red roses, in appreciation for his bel canto.
It was a beautiful night indeed, full of stars and from our table, we had a beautiful view of the river and a nice boardwalk underneath, Paseo Alcalde Marques del Contadero. The boardwalk didn't seem very busy at that time. We thought that would be the perfect place and the right opportunity to have some serious fun.
So after we had finished our drinks, we headed down to the boardwalk, by walking through a strange spiral path, made of concrete and metal.
Once we got down there, we decided to sit on a rock wall that ran parallel to the river. The wall was about 1 and 1/2 feet tall and it was interrupted by small openings, with stone stairs to access the side of the River, which consisted of a few feet of grass, stones and bamboo canes.
On the other side of the boardwalk, just below the Bombay Kiosk, there were a group of Palm trees, lovely and lustful, planted narrowly one to another.
At that time the boardwalk was deserted, so Anna decided to lay down on the wall while I got my jacket and placed it gently under her head. Then she removed the straps of the dress and placed them gently on her breast, in an unstable but definitely intriguing way. It was her signal to start and have some fun.
So I started it by lifting the hem of her dress and began to stroke her long and tanned legs. It felt like the perfect evening. Following Anna's invitation, I decided to shoot some souvenir photos with my cell phone.
But before I pulled out my phone, I noticed that on our left, hidden behind the Palm trees, there was a man who was looking in our direction. Despite the darkness, I saw his right arm move in a continuous motion, albeit nervous at times. At first, I thought that he was behind the trees to urinate, but after I got my eyes adjusted and focused, it was obvious that this guy was masturbating.
Then I whispered to Anna "Hey, turn around slowly to your right, and look in the direction of the Palm trees, there is a guy who is jerking off."
While she was turning, the straps of her dress slipped down below the breasts, which remained completely uncovered.
