Barcelona

This is a 100% true story and I only wish I remember more of it to tell you the sexy details.

Part 1

I had just turned 20 and it was March 12th. Finally spring break! No more finals. No more stress. No more sleepless nights, well maybe not, but at least no more unwanted sleepless nights. I got out of bed and started packing. My girlfriends would be over soon and it was time to get out of Arizona and off to Europe.

I had been waiting to see Barcelona for months. I am an architecture student and having the opportunity to see the Gaudis, up close and personal, was all I could think about. I packed my bathing suit, pants, shirts, and a few sets of sexy panties. It is Spring break after all. All packed and off to meet my girlfriends I would be traveling with.

We had an uneventful flight. Long boring, and the food was bad. We exited the BCN airport fifteen hours later and franticly blitzed for the door to have the first cigarette in nearly a day. It was heavenly and frankly so were the trim Spaniards. They were so much prettier than American boys. They were almost like girls which made them even hotter. I had experimented with a girl once my freshmen year and the thing I remember most about it was how nice it was to fuck a pretty person. There was just something about the packaging... and taking it off.

We hailed a cab and gave him the address of the hostel we had booked. The architecture on the drive was amazing. The buildings were like the impressionist paintings I had studied. It was everything I expected and more. Our hostel turned out to be not so picturesque. It was located down a dingy windy street off of an overly touristy boulevard full of street magicians and human statues.

The lobby looked like a school cafeteria and there were drunks wandering outside. At least it was relatively cheap at 23 Euros a night. It was 6:00 pm in Spain when we checked in. I unpacked my bags and Jen, Samantha, (the girlfriends I mentioned earlier) and I decided to take a nap and then go out.

Thanks to the jet lag we didn't get back out of bed until eleven o´clock at night and the only thing the three of us could think about was getting something to eat. We exited out into the street and discovered everything but the bars were closed. I managed to buy a fried thing from a Pakistani street vendor for one euro but I was still starving. We decided to drop into a bar and see if they serve food.

We found a warm looking pub and decided this looked like it might have something to eat. As it turned out it didn't. However they do serve up a lot of hot boys, and those boys serve up a lot of free drinks! After a few beers and a sex on the beech we decided to leave the boys who so graciously fed us alcohol and go clubbing. After all this is Barcelona.

It wasn't until we got into the cab that the alcohol started to hit me. It must have been the empty stomach, because I only had three drinks and my head was starting to swirl. The city blazed past my window in a haze and, next thing we were at the biggest club I have ever seen. It was three stories tall and there were hundreds of people in line. There was no way were waiting in that line. I don't care how good the club is we are way too hot for that. We flirted with the bouncers and managed to "young hot girl" our way to the front of the line. Inside it was even more packed that I expected. There must have been thousands of people in this place. It was not ten minutes after hitting the dance floor that I got separated from my friends.

I spent the next several hours wandering this mega club looking for them. I was starting to panic and beginning to realize here was no way I was going to find them in this place. I finally decided the best way for them to find me was to stay in one place. I found a place at a bar and ordered a redbull and vodka. I figured this was going to be long night and I am going to need the energy.

Well my girls must have had the same idea I had, sit and wait, because they never turned up at that bar. After what seemed like hours of sitting there and getting frustrated I started talking to a couple of cute Spanish boys sitting next to me at the bar. They were older and had long curly black hair. Not ratty like the grunge boys in America but oiled and well taken care of. The bought me another red bull and vodka and yelled over the music about the city and the club. I told them I had lost my friends and they suggested I come with them to a bar where they were meeting friends. I told them where my Hostel was and they said it is on the same street as the bar. I figured well I would have one drink with them and then go back to the hostel and wait for Jen and Samantha.

The bar was further down the windy street than the Hostel. The neighborhood started to look really sketchy and I was beginning to question if getting into a cab with two strange older men in a foreign country was a good idea. As soon as we arrived at the bar my fears were gone. The bar was called Bar Marsella and it was fantastic. It was like something out of a Van Gough painting. It must have been 200 hundred years old and was covered from floor to ceiling in wooden shelves filled with ancient unopened black bottles. The center of the bar was a cluster of old wooden bistro tables and the lighting was an electric yellow.

The waiter came by and asked for our orders. The guys, Alberto and Ramon, as I had just learned explained that this bar only serves absenta. They went on to explain that absenta is the Spanish word for Absinthe and it is very similar. Now I have had Absinthe before, well the legal stuff they sell at home, and I knew this was a drink to be careful of. I told them I had had too much to drink and there was no way I was taking a shot of that stuff.

They went on to explain that you drink diluted with water and it is a sipping drink. Against my better judgment I decided it is spring break and you only travel to Europe as a 20 year old once so hey why not. The waiter brought me a glass filled one third of the way up with a yellow green liquid. He set a fork across the rim of the glass and placed a sugar cube on the fork. Next he handed me a bottle of water with a hole punched in the top. He must have sensed I had no idea what to do with that because he motioned for me to tip the water and pour it over the sugar cube. With each drip of water the cube started to dissolve and the drink changed from clear greenish yellow to a cloudy milky green. I was mesmerized. No wonder all the artists drank this stuff. It's an ancient light show in a bottle!

The drink did not taste like the shot I had in the US. The American stuff was like ouzo only worse. This was sweet and tasted of creamy licorice and honey. It was then that Alberto and Ramons friends came to meet us. They were a couple and when I say a couple they were wow. Josep was tall light skinned and blond, with long side burns and short hair. He was a dream. Colina his girlfriend was no slouch either. She looked about 25 and was tall with a smile of thin lips from ear to ear. Her hair was black and curled around her shoulders. She was wearing the coolest cloths I have ever seen. She looked like a character form the Matrix. The Spanish goddess was wearing a long red coat with knee high black leather boots and jeans that could have been painted on. As they sat down I finished my absinthe and the waiter brought us all another round.

It is at this moment that I blacked out. Well kinda sorta. I have learned the hard way that absinthe does a funny thing if you drink too much. You black out but you don't go to sleep and you don't entirely forget anything.

Part 2

I woke up in a strange place with a sharp panic. The room was old and painted white, with chunks of paint missing. The bedspread was torn and green and the carpet was dotted with cigarette burns. The counter tops were covered with spent bottles of cheap beer and an empty bottle of bad scotch. There was a bathroom in the corner. By the looks of it I was in a cheap hotel room.

That's when I realized I was naked. My clothes had been folded and placed on a ratty looking chair next to the bed with my favorite panties neatly placed on top like the cherry on an ice cream Sunday. I threw off the covers and moved to get dressed. That's when I made another discovery. My stomach had something crusty and translucent dried to it. As my mind whirled I realized that this dried crust was also on my cheek and lips as well as in the small of my back. I licked my lips and confirmed my suspicion. It was dried semen. The flavor was faint but recognizable. It was then that I recognized another scent and taste on my lips. Pussy. As I mentioned earlier I had experimented with a girl once and that was a taste I will never forget.

I got out of bed in a flash and got dressed as fast as I could. My purse was next to the bed and luckily everything was in it. At least they didn't rob me. I walked to the mirror in the room and saw that written backwards across my forehead in lipstick was one sentence. Bienvenido a Barcelona.

As I washed off in the bathroom the night started coming back to me. I remembered stumbling into the street and hanging on Colina to keep my balance. We walked through several windy streets before checking into the cheap hotel. My memory flashed like it was jumping tracks and the image of me undressing Colina and sucking on one of her nipples played across my poor nurons. My jogged memory played back images of her boyfriend and I sharing her nipples. She was moaning softly and her nipple was long, thin, and hard.

The next memory to flash back was me bent over on the bed with my face buried in her legs. My lips were firmly fixed on her clit and some one else was pounding me from behind. She had to pull me off her pussy because I was biting her while I shook and twitched from an orgasm that is now just a memory. I hazily remember bending her over and licking her asshole and having to fight her full ass cheeks out of the way to get to my target. I remember who I think was her boyfriend holding onto my hair and jamming his hard penis into my mouth. His first spurt of cum went down my throat and made me choke. I pulled him out of my mouth and the next spurt landed on my lower lip and across my cheek. I remember telling whoever was behind me to pullout and cum on me because I was not on birth control and then feeling the splash of warm liquid on the small of my back.

The only thing I can´t explain is the dried cum on my stomach. That it seems will remain a mystery forever. The memory seems to be a sacrifice to the green fairy who provided me with this amazing night.

I decided to wash the dried cum off but I didn't rinse my mouth out. I wanted to savor Colina a little bit longer while I left and went to find my way back to the hostel and my friends.

As I looked at the mess of the hotel room one last time I noticed something. An unopened black bottle with a black wax seal dripping from the top was sitting right in the middle of the room. It had a bright green Art Nouveau looking label. I picked it up and the label was in Spanish. I could only recognize one word absenta. They left me a bottle of the absenta.

The night played on in my head like a motion picture as I exited the dingy hotel. I walked back to the main boulevard. The salty sweet taste of Colinas pussy still lingered on my lips.

I took the bottle with me and brought it back to the Arizona. However I have yet to muster the courage to open it. One part of me can´t wait to open it and relive Barcelona. The other more sensible part of me screams at me not to touch it. Oscar Wilde once said the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it, and one thing is for sure. One of these days I am going to open it and see where it takes me. But not just yet.