Making new friends in a Barcelona bar [MF]

Surely I can’t be the only one stuck at home right now, horny as hell and reminiscing about the hot hookups of pre-iso days. And not even necessarily reminiscing about the raunchiest or the kinkiest of the hookups, rather, just some of those really passionate, really fucking enjoyable hookups that still stick in your mind so vividly. Those memories that allow you to lie back in bed all those months or years later and mentally live through each moment agan, like you were still right there.

For example, throwback to that memorable work trip to Barcelona. With a hectic four days of conference schmoozing finally over, I still had two more days to myself, to let my hair down in this gorgeous city before I needed to head home. That evening, after stuffing myself full of delicious tapas and Spanish wine, my tipsy self stumbled across an English comedy show in a cute little bar, down a random alleyway in the heart of the Gothic quarter of the city. The show was down in the bar’s basement, and by the time I’d arrived, the area around the tiny stage was already packed with people, and there was only standing-room remaining. I ordered myself a beer and claimed a spot for myself, standing just behind the main seating area with a decent view of the stage.

I had eyed you off pretty much as soon as I’d arrived. Not in a “boy, I’d sure like to get in his pants” kinda way, but more just a reflex I had picked up after so many years of travelling by myself. I find that I tend to naturally scan a room for anyone else who may be solo and looks somewhat approachable, in case I want to start a friendly, innocent conversation with someone. You were seated on a comfy-looking suede lounge, just ahead of where I was standing. You looked to be on your own, maybe just a little older than me, maybe late 30s or early 40s? Nice luscious yet trimmed beard, and clearly owning an early receding hairline by just shaving it all off – you wore it well.

As the first comedy act wound up, I took the opportunity to make my approach, tapping you on the shoulder and asking if I could rest my beer on your table. You turned towards me and flashed me a wide, warm smile. “Go right ahead” you said cheerfully, and being an absolute gentleman, offered me your seat as well. I declined, but rested my beer down, and hurriedly wiped the condensation from my hand onto my dress so I could meet your awaiting handshake. We exchanged some quick introductions about ourselves just as the next comedian took to the stage.

During the next break between acts, you shimmied over to make some space for me and insisted that I share your couch with you. How could I say no? Though, as I squeezed in beside you, I noted it was a very cozy fit for two… but I somehow feel that you already knew that when you offered. There wasn’t an inch separating our bodies, and the only way I could easily fit onto the seat was to cross my right leg towards you, gently resting against yours, though I did play it up just a tad, and rubbed that leg against yours a little. And, although that basement was rather loud, I feel you were also playing it up a little, too, by the way you’d lean right into me and cup my ear each time you needed to say something to me.

If I can be honest, I can’t really remember much about those last few comedy acts, because I was already lusting hard for you by then. I was most certainly in “boy, I’d sure like to get in his pants” mode by now. As the acts continued on, I noted that you were growing more and more comfortable with all those little touches to my skin, as though you were slowly testing my boundaries. Like the way you casually rested your hand on your leg, such that the tips of your fingers just so happened to fall on my leg, tracing little circles along my thigh as you spoke to me. The more your fingers traced, the harder it was to keep my concentration in check. Each touch was like a tiny shock to my skin that sent an electric trail right up my body. I could feel myself getting wetter as the night went on. At one point, your fingers had worked their way up along the edging of my thigh-high stockings, right up underneath my dress, and you were absent-mindedly playing with the hem of the elastic where my stockings met my upper thigh. God, I felt like my pussy was on fire for you, and I’m positive you could feel the heat radiating from my panties by then.

The comedy show eventually wrapped up and I think we both knew that we wanted the night to continue. “Shall we move on?” you asked me, “Another bar, or..?” You lingered with your question, leaving it open for my response. “…Or your hotel?” I offered. You unashamedly fist pumped the air, which made me giggle, and also reassured me that I had made the correct suggestion. We gathered our things and we made our way towards the door. With your palm resting firmly on my lower back, you led us through the crowded bar. That whole time, as I followed you, I was just picturing that very same touch, just without these pesky clothes separating us.

As we exited the bar, you pulled out your phone to map us back to your hotel. Perhaps I found your furrowed brow look particularly sexy in that moment, or perhaps I was just horny as hell for you in that moment, but I chose that opportunity to lean into you and broach that first kiss. I recall how your face immediately relaxed and you kissed me back. As our lips locked, your free hand wandered its way down my back, ever so gently gliding over my ass, cupping my cheek. At some point, you must’ve ninja-ed your phone back into your pocket, because I remember how both your hands were suddenly exploring my body. Your fingers once again found their way up underneath my dress to the lace trim on my stockings. You really seemed to love running your finger just underneath the elastic, as though you were contemplating whether they should stay on or come off. Off soon enough, I hoped. It took all of my power not to beg you to fuck you right there and then, in the dark alleyway. The walk back to your hotel was thankfully fairly brief, though you did stop us at that one intersection just to make out again, and I wasn’t complaining.

For some reason, I always feel a little embarrassed going up to someone else’s hotel room, like the staff at the reception can tell I’m not a guest there and are quietly judging me. As we walked through your hotel lobby, perhaps you sensed my slight unease, because you checked in with me with a “You still feeling good?” as we waited for the elevator. “So good,” I nodded to you, just as the doors opened. And I really was. I wanted you, so very badly. I took your hand and pulled you into the elevator behind me and we made out and felt each other up that whole ride up to your floor.

Once we’d made it into your room, you resumed kissing me before the door had even fully closed behind us. These kisses were more intense that before, much more desperate and much hungrier. I couldn’t get enough of it. You pressed me up against the door, leaning your body right into mine. There was that moment where we broke away from the kiss at the same time, and were both just silently taking each other in, while trying to steady our breaths.

My attention quickly diverted to your jeans, which clearly needed to come off. As I started working at your fly, you briefly stopped me, warning me that you “weren’t the biggest” down there. I think I stammered something like a “don’t even worry” back at you, because your size was honestly the last thing I could’ve cared about in that moment. I just needed to taste you. As I let your jeans slide down to the floor, I could already tell how hard you were, even through your briefs. I massaged your bulge with my fingers, and took great pleasure in watching and hearing you groan in response. Teasingly, I ran my lips over your the head of your cock, kissing you through the fabric of your briefs as I looked up at you. But perhaps it was more of a tease for me, because all I wanted was that cock in my mouth.

I can remember the lust in your eyes as you watched me pull your briefs down, freeing your hard member. I immediately leant down to lick the glistening precum off the head of your cock, letting my tongue linger there, feeling you twitch under me. I remember the way you threw your head back as I took the head of your cock in between my lips and gently sucked and licked you. You watched me as I introduced my hand to the mix, stroking you in time with the motions of my lips. You encouraged me with your groans as I increased the grip on my strokes, rubbing the length your shaft, up and down. You groaned some more as I took your whole cock in my mouth, bobbing my head in circles while I held you deep.

“Not just yet,” you said, lifting my chin up to face you, “I want to fuck you first…” You guided me up to my feet and kissed me deeply once again. With a hand on my back, you pushed me down until I was bending over the nearby desk. You lifted my dress up and ran your thumb along the thin lace of my thong. You told me to wait right there as you disappeared into the bathroom to find a condom, leaving me bent over that desk, panting and horny as fuck.

I hardly had a moment to catch my breath before you were back, pulling my panties to the side with two fingers and running them firmly between my ass cheeks and down my pussy lips. Your fingers felt so incredible on me. “You’re so fucking wet…” you whispered in my ear, leaning right into me, pushing my body further down into the desk. I knew I was. You’d left me dripping for you all night long. With your arm between my legs, you jerked my hips towards you, such that your cock was now pressing into my ass, sitting snugly between my cheeks. You were driving me crazy, and you knew it.

I groaned, almost out of frustration, and told you how badly I needed you inside me. I turned my head back to watch you as you rubbed some spit onto your stiff cock, giving yourself a few extra strokes for good measure. Seriously, I really, REALLY needed you inside me now. You spread my lips with your fingers and slid yourself inside, ridiculously, wickedly slowly. Fuck, I can still remember exactly what that felt like. And the way you bent down to kiss my neck as you pulled yourself back out of me just as slowly. You even chuckled at me as I stuck my ass out, begging for your cock to enter me again. You soon obliged, but continued to tease me with those slow, long strokes, teamed with those kisses to my neck that had absolutely melted into a puddle.

At some point, you flipped me over so that I was then sitting up on the desk. You pulled my dress down roughly, exposing my breasts, which you took, one after the other, into your mouth. I’m sure you’d remember how much you made me moan as you licked and sucked my nipples, gently biting them, pulling on them. You then repositioned me, pulling my body to the edge of the desk so you could slide yourself into me again. I was still just as wet, if not wetter, for you. Your thrusts were long and deliberate. You eventually sped up your strokes, forcing a slight cry out of me with each motion. I knew you were close, as both your rhythm and your breaths quickened. I can remember the steady beat of the desk hitting the wall as you fucked me. And I just wanted it, you, harder and deeper inside me. God, you felt so damn good.

I can still hear the groans you made with those last few thrusts, and recall the way you dug your head into my chest as you came. The way you planted lazy kisses on my neck as we both caught our breaths again, or how you broke into a contagious chuckle as we were both slumped over that desk. It’s hard to believe we still had the stamina to fuck several more times that night, considering how much that first round had taken it out of of both of us.

Ugh, take me back to that incredible night in Barcelona, please.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/g30o7z/making_new_friends_in_a_barcelona_bar_mf