For my birthday, my wife Julie and I decided to take a long-delayed trip to Europe. Our teen-age daughter was attending a Gifted and Talented summer school session at the other end of the State, so we were free as birds for the first time in a long while. We'd been to Paris once, on a business trip for me, but had never been anywhere else in Europe. We'd always wanted to see Barcelona, so we booked air tickets there.
We left JFK Airport in the late afternoon, arriving in Barcelona early in the morning. The flight was uneventful, but long and boring. We arrived too early, it appeared, for Customs to be there – we simply walked out of the baggage claim area with our luggage! We had booked a hotel in the little area called Barcelonetta, which the guidebooks touted as a quaint little out-of-the-way neighborhood with lots of history and very close to the ancient remains of the Roman and medieval Barri Gotic – the Old City. The taxi dropped us at the door of the hotel, and we were enchanted from the moment we got out of the car. The street was narrow, with slow-moving traffic in only one direction. There weren't many cars on the street, but the sidewalks were bustling with people. Overhead, we heard the song of canaries, apparently in cages on the little balconies. Other balconies were full of wash hung out to dry, with plastic sheets over the top against the possibility of rain.
Our room was spacious and light. In addition to the large bed there was a couch and a table with three chairs. In the corner was a small refrigerator. The bellboy opened it and showed us a bottle of champagne inside. "Cava", he proclaimed. "Compliments of the hotel." I joined him at the refrigerator and touched the bottle. Sure enough, a cold bottle of local champagne. I gave the bellboy a generous tip and, after unpacking our clothes we tumbled into bed – it was only 3 AM, New York time!
I awoke to the sensation of Julie's hand caressing my chest. As soon as I stirred, her hand moved down, rubbing a circle on my stomach and then moving down to my penis. I had my usual early-morning hardon and heard an appreciative murmur from my wife. I rolled onto my side to face her, and pulled her over for a kiss. The kiss went on and on, and then she broke away.
"Gotta pee," she explained, climbing out of the bed.
I watched her cute ass disappear into the bathroom. Julie is small and compact – about 5'3", trim, with a nice pair of small breasts and a very nicely rounded ass. After almost twenty years of marriage, she still turned me on, and I felt my hard cock twitch in appreciation.
She came back quickly, pulled the bedclothes aside and crawled toward my erect cock. Without preamble, she slid her mouth over my tool while she cupped my balls in her hand. My cock is normal sized, about 7" long and about 1½ inches across, and Julie has no difficulty getting it into her mouth. She slid it up into her throat until her nose was just touching my pubic hair, then slowly pulled it out again. "God, I love it when you deep-throat me like that," I said.
She pulled back from the tip of my cock and said, with a mischievous look, "No, really?"
It's true that by now we knew pretty much everything about what turned each other on, and maybe that was becoming a little bit of a problem. While I still loved Julie as much as I did the day we were married, our love life had settled into a nice comfortable routine. We each knew how to please the other, and our sessions in bed rarely ended without us both cumming. In fact, usually Julie came at least twice. But the fact that there were no secrets meant there was no uncertainty, no challenge. It was like reading a fine book you've read before – still wonderful, but you know where it's going; whereas a new thriller might leave you on edge, reluctant to put it down before you find out what's going to happen.
These thoughts had barely gone through my head before Julie waggled my hard cock and said, "Mmmm... this is nice, but I want you in me."
She swung her leg over me and put the tip of my penis against her labia. Instead of inserting it, she stimulated herself for awhile, rubbing my nob against her clitoris. She moaned appreciatively and breathed harder and faster. Finally, her legs stiffened and she let out a louder moan. I knew from experience that this was one of her "little" orgasms, and that there would be more to come. After she came down from the climax she gently slipped me into her soft, slippery vagina. God, that felt good! She settled all the way down and started to rock like a rider on a galloping horse, slowly at first and then building in speed. I fondled her pert little tits, pinching the nipples slightly.
"Oh, yes," she whispered. "Like that!"
Soon she was lost in space, her eyes closed, her torso whipping forward and back on my cock, as she began the crescendo to another orgasm. I dropped her breasts and put my hands on her hips, helping her move ever faster and farther. It felt as if she might break off my penis, but I knew from long experience that wouldn't happen. Finally her moans rose to a shriek of ecstasy, her head whipped forward and back, and she squirmed all around on my cock.
"Yesssssss...." She shouted. "Yessssssss..."
This was one of her really big orgasms, and it went on for quite awhile. As she started to come down from it, I could feel my own orgasm building. My scrotum tightened. Somewhere inside me there started a sort of itching sensation, which bloomed into pleasure along my entire penis. Then I felt the gobs of cum pushing up through my cock and spewing into Julie.
The sensation of my already hard cock hardening even more and expanding sent Julie off into another "little" orgasm, kind of an aftershock. She continued her rocking motion for a little bit, but she knows that after I cum I'm very sensitive, so she soon stopped.
"God," she said, "that was great. Thank you, lover."
"Yes, it was. Thank you, darling."
Julie sagged down until she was lying on top of me, and we were silent as our heart rates returned to normal.
"Isn't Barcelona great?" she asked me, grinning down.
"It is, indeed," I responded. "Should we get dressed and go see some of it?"
"Let's!" Julie pulled off of me and ran to the bathroom. Gooey strings of cum ran off her leg onto the floor, but she ignored it. In a moment I could hear the toilet flush, and then the shower turned on.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a hand-towel to mop my cum off the floor, then stepped into the shower. Julie was just finishing up on her hair, and after a quick rinse she welcomed me into her arms. "You make me happy," she said. I held her in a tight hug. I knew I would do anything to keep this woman with me for the rest of my life.
We stopped at the desk in the lobby and asked for directions to the tourist bus. We figured that would be the quickest and easiest way to orient ourselves and see all the tourist sights. The clerk directed us to the nearest stop, right at the corner of Barcelonetta where the main city begins, and we walked, hand-in-hand, down the narrow streets to the bus stop. On the way, we passed several small restaurants selling all kinds of seafood delicacies, and we vowed to return to one of them that evening.
The bus turned out to be fun, with English-language audio guides. We sat in the open top deck, as it was a beautiful summer day. Although the rules of the tourist bus allowed us to get out at any stop and then pick up a later bus for free, we elected to simply ride around the town, up the Ramblas with its "living statues", juggling acts, shell games and buscars, then past the big square to the Discordia, where the artist Gaudi had built two rival homes with not a straight line between them, and so on. Every street and corner seemed to contain a new marvel, and we loved the trip.
We almost got off at the Sagrada Familia cathedral, just because it was so odd-looking. Another of Gaudi's works, this huge edifice was started in the 1920's and still isn't complete. But we decided to come back later, on our own, and stayed on the bus as it continued down to the waterfront where the aquatic portions of the 1980 Olympics were held – now home to dozens of restaurants and a marina.
Finally the bus turned back to the northwest, and we saw from our tourist map that we were headed along the beach back to Barcelonetta. On the left side were wide sand beaches filled with sunbathers, and it didn't take me long to realize that the women were almost all topless! Some of them, of course, you wanted to bring a top to and say, "Here, put this on," but most of the topless women were very attractive. It seemed so odd that here we were, riding along in a bus and staring at the naked breasts of hundreds of women of all ages.
Julie was as curious about the beaches as I was. "I wonder what it feels like," she said, "to sit on the beach showing off your breasts, knowing that dirty old men – that would be you, Jack – are ogling them from busses and cars driving by."
"Well," I pointed out, "There's one way to find out how it feels. And that would give this dirty old man a chance to ogle up close and personal, as they say."
"OK, let's do it," she replied. "It's late in the afternoon, but still warm enough to lie on the beach, and I want to start work on my tan. By the way, Buster, 'up close' is OK, but 'and personal' isn't."
"I'll remember that," I said.
So, after getting off the bus at the next stop, we went back to our hotel and changed into flip-flops and bathing clothes, and grabbed a couple of the big fluffy towels to sit on. The walk to the beach was as delightful as the other trips we'd taken in Barcelonetta. We passed a Forn de Pan, which our guidebook said was Catalan for "Bread oven" and savored the smell of fresh bread being baked inside, but walked right past it. We were both anxious to try out the topless beach!
We stepped out onto the sand and went over to a good-looking young man who was renting beach chairs. "Let's get a couple," Julie said, and the young man led us to a space on the beach where we could lounge in the chairs. Julie pulled off the sarong she was wearing over her bikini bottoms, then hesitated for a moment before reaching behind her back and undoing the top. I noticed that the beach boy had not gone back to his pile of chairs, but was hanging out nearby waiting to see what Julie had to show him. When she exposed her pert breasts, nipples fully extended, he smiled to himself and walked back to his post. I guess Julie's boobs passed his criterion for topless sunbathing!
