[MFF] Girls With High Self-Esteem on the Barcelona Beach

April and May are the best months at the Barcelona beach. It’s mostly locals during the week and sun-starved northern European tourists at the weekend.

And nearly everyone is topless.

It’s a paradise of tits: all shapes, sizes and ages. Everyone has been pent up and repressed over the winter, and the beach hasn’t yet reached its overcrowded summer heights, so the proportion of girls who aren’t afraid of showing their funbags is remarkably high.

For a voyeur like me, there are few things better than walking the beach from the full-nude section down toward the W Hotel all the way up to the full-nude section near the kite-surfers. I’ve seen more tits in an hour-long walk there than my grandfather probably saw in his life. (Or maybe not: my grandmother, after his death, talked about their voracious sex life more than I wanted to hear – but you get the point.)

I don’t like traditional porn or bolted-on tits or girls gone wild, which is also why I love Barcelona. Those types of people (literal porn stars, models and people who pay for body perfection) go elsewhere: Ibiza, St Tropez, the Canaries, etc. Barcelona has become too much of a cliché to be cool. It’s a place that normal couples and groups of friends go to see the Gaudi architecture or to visit the art museums or to just walk around a different city. Locals will tell you that tourism has ruined the city (and they have a point), but it has made the beach the perfect spot to watch – and meet – girls with high self-esteem.

These are the kind of girls who, back home in Berlin or London or Geneva, have good jobs and normal lives. They’re a bit repressed, like any bourgeois European, and they have a healthy claustrophobic fear about ending up married in a few years with two-and-a-half kids and two-and-a-half BMWs. So they come down to Barcelona with their best friend and they lose their inhibitions.

Sometimes I walk the beach and sit down near some girls who catch my eye. Sometimes I stake out a prime position early in the day and see what luck brings. Even a bad day will bring dozens of tits and mild flirtation.

The good days bring raw unabashed sex.

Take Lucy, who came to Barcelona with her friend Therese. They were living in Zurich, but they were both French. And not shy. They didn’t wear bras or bikini tops under their shirts, so when they sat down on the sand not far away they just pulled their shirts over the heads and started oiling up their tits.

Beach days are long and lazy, and the only sin is being too eager. So we eyed each other up for the first hour or so, noticing the other people around but finding our eyes meeting again and again as one or other of us flipped over and reapplied sunscreen.

I spoke first when one of the Asian women was being particularly persistent with her offer of a massage to the girls. I walked over and waved off the masseuse, explaining to the girls that you had to be firm with them because they really liked massaging topless girls with great tits. They pretended to be angry but they answered my questions about where they were from and what they were doing here. And they didn’t say no when I bought a beer from a guy passing by (there are lots of them roving around, often not far from topless girls).

So, we talked and laughed and I could see Lucy’s thirst growing by the minute. Therese had had made it clear she had a boyfriend, so when she went to find the little girl’s room I invited Lucy back to my place to join me and my wife in bed.

My wife, I explained, was the breadwinner: she had a job that paid for us to be in Barcelona and she sent me off each afternoon with a mission of bring back a hot girl for us to fuck.

“You want to see a picture?” I asked Lucy.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

I pulled up a topless photo of my wife, smiling in her sexy way in bed.

“That’s your wife?” said Lucy.

“You want to talk to her?” I said. “We can Facetime her right now if you want to come back with us later.”

Lucy looked at me to see if I was bluffing. “I don’t usually do stuff with other girls,” she said, sidestepping the question.

“You don’t have to. Sometimes she just watches,” I said. “Or you can just watch us.”

“This sounds like some kind of scam you try with all the girls,” Lucy said. “I don’t believe it.”

“Can I call her?” I said.

“Yes,” said Lucy, looking at me defiantly, like she wanted to call my bluff. But we’d been sitting here for 30 minutes and her thirst was apparent, and I knew she was interested.

So I called Sarah.

“Hey Babe, can you talk?” I said. It was our signal, perfected in previous situations like this, that I had a willing girl who needed a bit of reassurance.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“I’d like you to meet Lucy from Zurich.”

I handed the phone to Lucy, keeping it far enough away as I turned it so that Lucy’s small, pert tits were in the frame.

“Hi Lucy,” said Sarah with a tone of voice that I knew meant she liked what she saw.

“Hi! I thought this was a joke,” Lucy said as she laughed into the camera. “You’re really beautiful,” she continued.

And Sarah, always led by her ambition, closed the deal: “So I’ll see you later, when I’m done with work?”

“Yes,” said Lucy. “I want to.”

“Ok babe,” I said, reaching for the phone and bringing myself up shoulder to shoulder with Lucy, touching her for the first time. “Work hard. We’ll be waiting for you at home.”

The moment after they agree is one of the best. You can see their inner wheels turning as they realise that they just released their inner slut. There is a tiny bit of shame and a lot of excitement. It’s like turning a dial for intensity up to 10.

We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, and then she said, “What about Therese? We’re having dinner tonight, and I can’t leave her alone.”

“You’ll have dinner with her,” I said. “You’ll just be with us for an hour. She can entertain herself for that long.”

Lucy nodded and looked at me: “How many times have you done this?”

Instead of answering, I looked up and smiled at Therese, who was finally rejoining us.

“Are you two ok?” she said. “You seem very excited.”

When there is sexual chemistry in a conversation, everyone picks up on it, even if they’re not involved. And as we made a few more jokes about the Chinese masseuses, Therese was quickly adapting to the new energy.

Therese flagged down a beerseller for another round. I offered to put sunscreen on Lucy’s back, an offer she was only too happy to accept. I started in the small of the back and worked very slowly upwards. Therese handed a beer to Lucy, who was up on her elbows, and put mine in the sand.

“You two are very friendly,” Terese said as my hands went round the sides of Lucy’s ribcage.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You still have a dinner date with her.”

“You better not abandon me,” Terese said to Lucy in French. And as they continued to talk I sat astride Lucy and massaged the sunscreen into the sides of her small breasts. Neither she nor Therese demonstrated that they noticed, and I moved up to her shoulders and arms. As I was finishing her neck, Lucy said “Legs please” and wiggled her ass underneath me. I moved down and rubbed lotion everywhere, paying special attention to the edge of her bikini line.

Lucy and Therese had been speaking French the whole time, and when I finished the last of Lucy’s legs Therese said “Now me” and laid down next to Lucy.

I started with her calves, moving very slowly up her thighs. As I got to the top, Therese spread her legs just a few inches – enough for me to know what she wanted. I rubbed the sunscreen everywhere that showed and brushed my fingers along the bikini that was wrapping her cunt especially tightly. Both of them were lying flat and silent, so Lucy didn’t know that I was giving Therese attention that she didn’t get.

We were surrounded by people on the beach, so the massage couldn’t get too intimate and I moved up onto her back. As I reached her ribcage, Therese came up onto her elbows. She was rail-thin like Lucy, but her tits were much bigger – proportions that meant she could make a living from her body if she were so inclined. In fact, it was her tits that caught my attention first when they sat down, even before she took off her shirt, and I’d spent quite a lot of time watching them swing and bounce in extraordinary fashion: they were far too bouncy and saggy to be fake (this sounds terrible, but it’s true).

When I started to rub sunscreen on the sides of them, she raised her ass up into my dick – it’s funny how bodies fit together in so many different positions – and then raised her shoulders up still higher to bring her nipples up off the towel. I could feel them stiffen as I moved my hands across them, but we were in a public place so I had to move up to her shoulders after a few strokes. She could feel my cock growing as it pressed down into her ass, and she looked up at me with a knowing grin.

In that grin, I saw two things: first, she enjoyed making me hard. But, second, she enjoyed knowing that I was more attracted to her than I was to Lucy. It was the feminine competitiveness that I knew well from Sarah. Therese knew she was the hotter of the two, and she knew that I thought so too. And she knew that all these years later I would be thinking of her rather than Lucy.

She was right. The sex with Lucy and my wife was, on the scale of things, average. We all got off and Lucy was especially flexible and willing to try unusual positions. But of my two orgasms that night, the better one came after Lucy left and I was describing Therese to Sarah. It started as a normal conversation and then as my cock started growing when I mentioned Therese’s tits, Sarah asked me about them in detail and told me to fuck her from behind as if I were fucking Therese. That orgasm numbed my lips.

I still look for Therese when I find myself in the kind of places where a rich housewife might have lunch with her friends – in Zurich, Munich, Paris, wherever. The sex would be mindblowing.

More Barcelona beach stories to come.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/l9h18j/mff_girls_with_high_selfesteem_on_the_barcelona