Catalan Kid Ch 02

Catalan Kid Ch 02

Ricardo Shows Juan the Hot Side of Barcelona

This is fiction. I take no responsibility for the coincidental description of the places and people--even if they seem to resemble "real life." All characters portrayed in sexual situations are over 18. © Copyright, Brunosden 2025.

Juan Sanchez, a hot Latino young man, has been introduced to mansex by Curry Rossini, a transfer classmate of Brazilian/Italian descent, a co-track team member, and with the body (equipment and stamina) of a porn-star. Curry is a mentor, experienced, and, seemingly a dom. Juan fell into the sub role quite easily despite his apparent alpha personality and body, assuming that he could make other choices in the future. Both had graduated (from a tech magnet school (in Alabama) (before the vacation described in the previous chapter) and were soon headed off to college--Juan to Georgia Tech and Curry to Brown. Juan is in Barcelona with his family as a graduation present and has met another potential partner.

In Juan's voice....

3.

A week after graduation, I was on the plane "in familia." And here, on the first day of our vacation, I think I was being propositioned. I had asked for it, dressed as I was, and posing seductively on the concrete parapet at the edge of the beach. At first, I couldn't believe my luck. I was hoping for someone interesting, but not attention from a guy as magnificent as Ricardo. I was initially wary, assuming that his proposed "guide" services would cost me. I was sure he was a hustler. But, fuck, he was so handsome--and it had been over a week since Curry and I had been together. I needed to get off or maybe even have my ass filled. I was beginning to realize that I was addicted, a bottom, and perhaps even a cum slut. His smile and his accent were seductive. He was so sure of himself, so sophisticated, so fucking handsome. So I agreed to meet him the following night--assuming that I'd be able to come up with a suitable excuse for the family to meet him, between now and then. I gave him the name of the hotel, and he said he'd call in with a message about the where we would meet. Then, I finished my run and returned to the family hotel.

We (the family) had dinner that night at the hotel and headed in early for bed. Dad had hired a private guide and we were going to "do" Gaudi's Barcelona the next day--except the famous Cathedral which itself would take an entire day. Dad was excited about the various architectural and artistic scenes that we were going to take in. He dominated the dinner conversation with superlatives about Gaudi's genius and uniqueness. Barcelona housed so many architectural masterpieces. Somehow I think I had already met one of them! But, as a budding architect myself, I was going to soak up Gaudi in the place where he had flourished.

Toward the end of dinner, I mentioned casually that I had met some guys my age during my run, and that they had invited me to go to a club the following night. Dad immediately began to object, but Mom's arm on his quieted him. So I stepped in to take advantage of the moment. "I'll be with you all day and including dinner. The Club doesn't even open until 11. I'm to meet them there at midnight. I've got a LYFT app on my I-phone so I have a way to get home. I won't get drunk--and it's not against the law here anyway to drink at 18. And I promise to drag through the day after with you all even if I get in early in the morning. Not even complaining!"

Mom smiled. She knew what I was doing. But, she was so proud of my academic and athletic achievements that she was willing to cut me slack, really a lot of slack. I think she had been the sensuous half of their relationship--and I think she realized that I took after her in that sense. We both needed people as well as buildings.

"Well, I guess. I did want you to experience Barcelona--and doing it with guys your age is probably appropriate. Leave us the name of the club--and we'll expect you home by two. I don't expect to find you passed out and drunk the following morning. We have a busy day of touring, and you are not going to be excused, young man."

"Two? Are you kidding? I won't even get there until after midnight. The place closes at sunrise. This is Spain, Dad! We don't even eat dinner until ten! At two we'll just be getting started. I thought you wanted me to get in touch with my inner Catalan." I looked over at him with pleading eyes, and he took pity.

"Well, we'll see." (Which in our language means that I had won. I'd get home when I got home--so long as I was present for breakfast. The following day was going to be a bear, but Ricardo, I assumed would make it worthwhile. And my enthusiasm for Gaudi didn't need to be faked.)

We did spend the next day in an exhausting round robin of visits to the interiors and exteriors of many of Gaudi's most outrageous and well-known projects. We returned to the hotel after a long lunch, toward the end of the siesta time. Dad wanted a short nap before we set out again. Ricardo was good to his word. That afternoon, the hotel desk had a note for me. I had an address for the club. It was downtown, but not in the touristy part where our hotel was located. Maybe three or four miles away in a semi-industrial area. The club had no name--just an address. Ricardo was apparently pretty sure of himself--he hadn't left me a number to call if I couldn't make it.

The afternoon was mercifully short--although it seemed much longer than the morning tour. I was already dreaming of my upcoming date. Thankfully, dinner was at a restaurant in the mini-square, a bistro connected to the hotel. We finished by ten thirty, and I got in a catnap.

I didn't know what to expect for dress. So I decided to go "full-American" club--tight jeans, logo tee (Lollapalooza 2024, this time) and sockless shoes (for the dance floor). I showered, gelled, and touched up my body hair, and, on an optimistic note, I cleaned out with a douche and pulled out a strip of condoms and a few small tubes of lube. I brought an ID, a little cash, my all-purpose ATM/Credit Card and an I-phone which I jammed into a small leather man-purse--which I noticed all the Euro guys were carrying. There would be only one bulge in my jeans! I had changed after dinner, and since we weren't at home, I had slipped away without the typical parental, "Is that what you are wearing to go to a club?" (Tomas was already deep into a video game and didn't notice or care what I was wearing as I left the room.)

4.

A half hour later the taxi deposited me at a brick and steel industrial building, just one story. There was a small rainbow painted on the brick above the entrance, and the line outside attested to the fact that it was a club. Discrete by day, but obviously the place at night. Ricardo spotted me as I got out of the cab--he and two other guys were near the front of the line. He waved me over. He was a stunner, clearly the hottest guy in the long line--dressed in black leather jeans and a black no-logo silk shirt. And the two guys with him weren't so bad either. He grabbed me and planted two luscious kisses on my cheeks--while he felt up my buns. Introductions were made; comments were voiced about my "perfect" choice of outfit; and we were admitted within minutes. Fortunately for me, they all spoke reasonable English.

Inside, each of us was allocated a small locker where we deposited our phones (no selfies or....) and wallets, after imprinting a credit card. The locker key number, on a band around our wrists, would be our "credit card" for the night. Somehow I knew that soon we weren't going to be wearing anything with a pocket! So I was pleased to be able to leave the man-purse in the locker. Then we walked through into the main space. It wasn't crowded yet. The night was just beginning.

Inside was totally different. It was not rundown, but completely renovated industrial chic. It was a dark, cavernous modern place with lighting that spotted a DJ flipping on an elevated stage--a booth really, over and behind the long mirrored bar. There was a large dance floor--varnished concrete with rolling LEDs that moved around the floor, providing motion even without dancers, and dozens of booths along the edges, all more or less separated from each other by half walls and curtains and in the shadows. There were cubes with poles for dancers, glowing and spotlit, but they were currently empty. The music was already pounding a steady hot beat.

We found an empty booth and took possession.

Incidentally, Ricardo had already taken possession of me. He was messaging the crowd that I was taken. A hand slipped into the rear of my jeans, arching a thumb over the waistband, and spread out over my ass as he guided me toward the booth. He had leaned in and whispered, "Glad you chose not to go commando. Otherwise, you'd regret it when we start losing stuff on the dance floor later. You look and feel delicious. I can't wait." He had already declared his intentions. He didn't waste any time. I involuntarily shivered at his touch, realizing that we were in for quite an exciting evening. I was ready. I looked around and spotted the hungry eyes--probably his past conquests. But he was mine for tonight.

I was beginning to feel very adult--and very Euro. I was fitting in without effort. I hadn't been wrong about Ricardo. The guy that I had inspected in the glowing sun on the beach was something else at night in his element--a magnificent creature, almost feral, like a black panther, dangerous, dressed in a tight button up black silk shirt (open well down his chest, displaying smooth rock hard pecs and several charms on a thick silver chain), unbelted leather jeans and leather sandals. Wavy dark hair, cut uniformly about two inches, but with that unique Latino curl, was already drooping over his eyes, creating the "welcome to my bedroom, boy" look. He was clearly in charge of the group, and a regular at this club. Everyone seemed to know him. I think maybe he was one of the alphas of the gang. There was a subtle deference to him with every encounter. Some he hugged. Some he kissed. Some he swatted an ass. Always with a welcoming smile. He was definitely a hustler, which immediately rang an alarm.

So while his buds went for the first round, I decided to take the plunge, "Ricardo, I'm not as naïve as you might think. What is tonight going to cost me? When were you planning on springing that bit of information on me?"

He pulled back from me like I had slapped him hard. Then he smiled, "Oh, you direct Americans. Everything has a price for you. So I won't get too excited about such an insulting question. I'll just answer. Nothing. The admission is my treat. You'll buy drinks when it's your turn. And that's it. I'm not that kind of boy, Juan." He paused and I could see the mischief in his eyes, "But, there is something you can do for me. We'll see later. I'm planning to explore what's behind the buttons on those jeans. It looks very promising. And, I'm not going to deny that I'm going to try to fuck your American boy ass before the night is over. Maybe more than once. And maybe many more times in the next few days. If that bothers you, perhaps you should leave now. I usually get everything I set out to take." He folded his arms, puffing up his biceps in the process, and stared, waiting for my answer.

I looked into his handsome face and remembered his magnificent body from the afternoon at the beach. I made my decision quickly. "I'm sorry, Ricardo. I have no excuse except unfamiliarly with customs and expectations in Spain. I'm going to take you at your word. And for the record, I'm not a virgin--and I am definitely up for some interesting playtime. You're a prize. One of the treasures of Barcelona that I was hoping to find." I was going to add a declaration that the fucking was going to be mutual, but I decided to remain quiet. If he wanted my ass, it was his. I had already decided that I could be a sub for this beautiful man.

"Touche! We are in for a night--and maybe a week. I'm going to sign up for one of the private rooms at the back right now. I'm assuming your American virtue will not permit us to fuck in public--at least not until we get to know each other a little better. Later this week. But, you should know that anything goes in this place--on the dance floor, in the booths, even at the bar. I've seen a guy sitting back on the stool, sipping a drink talking to the guy next to him, while someone stood behind them and fucked him from the back. No one said anything when he reached in with a fist, captured his spunk and dropped it into his beer. We Spaniards have no inhibitions when it comes to pleasure... or sex. Everyone here wants the same thing, believe me. It's only a question of how long, where and with whom."

"Somehow, I've got an idea as to how long--and with whom." I shivered in anticipation and pulled him into an embrace and a deep kiss which was interrupted by the return of Ricardo's two friends, Lukas and Marc, with large paper cups filled with liquid--which turned out to be a local beer with a strong citrus overtone. Their eyes shot up and their smiles widened as they noticed that Ricardo and I were already getting it on. Of course they must have known. This was not Ricardo's first rodeo. And I probably wasn't his first American sub.

We sat and talked for a few minutes. Ricardo's hand was already massaging my cock. And Lucas and Marc punctuated almost every sip with a deep kiss and a long hug. I looked around. We weren't alone. The entire place was the prelude for an orgy. The music shifted, and almost simultaneously dozens of us rose to hit the floor. It was, crowded, fast, with a consistent beat. So we both launched into independent moves, moving into a zone, only occasionally touching our partner. The song morphed into another--and I looked around to see that the dancers were all really good. Several were really good and athletic. Ricardo caught me eyeing them. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me close, and spoke into my ear, "They are dancers at the Ballet Folklorico de Barcelona. They always come here after a performance. They live to dance. And the guys love watching them. They'll have partners within a few minutes. They're all confirmed bottoms. And, incidentally, should you have any interest in them, they do expect some compensation if they dance with you--and more if they let you fuck them! Unlike the rest of us." He continued to hold me close as our hips ground in unison to the music.

The tempo suddenly changed to something slower, not slow, slower. Ricardo pulled me even tighter, plastered himself on my back, and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me hard into him and bending me slightly forward. His lips moved to my nape and kissed, nipped and sucked. Meanwhile his hips moved into mine, and we began to move together. I immediately felt his erection. His hands moved up under the tee and began to tease my nipples. Slowly, he was bending me forward with his chest, positioning his cock for the inevitable. His hands dropped to my erection to confirm his effectiveness--yes, I was rock hard and ready for him to take the next steps. The fun had begun. The music ended, he released me from the fuck-bottom pose, and we headed back to the booth where another round of beers awaited.

He slipped in first and pulled me into his lap. It was a tight fit even with the small table; so I straddled, bending my legs at the knees as our chests touched. Our faces were only a few inches apart. He grabbed a beer, fed me some. Then he drank from the same cup. Somehow I thought that the move was incredibly sexy. We kissed and shared the brew. Then the cup disappeared and his hands, both of them were inside my jeans. He had unbuttoned and loosened the waist to make a massage possible. I loved having a guy's hands on my ass cheeks. It was the promise of things to cum. But, I couldn't believe how smoothly he had managed to get inside the tight waist. Fingers from both hands entered the cleft and pulled the cheeks apart. A finger entered. I rose just a bit from his lap which he took as an invitation. The finger deepened and swirled around searching for my nut. He touched it and I involuntarily squeezed my cheeks to capture it there. Then I felt his leather covered cock slide under my ass, pushing up into me from that position. My dick hardened and began to creep up the front of my crotch. Soon it would be peeking out, glistening with precum.

The place was heating up--both temperature and the sex. There were many dancers still on the floor, crowded together, but many had lost shirts, a few had lost pants, and the simulated motions of sex were the primary dance moves on the floor. My eyes moved back and forth between the dancers and Ricardo who was using his lips to kiss, to nip at my ears, to suck on my neck and then to French kiss again. His hands were inside my boxer briefs now, firmly squeezing the hot naked flesh of my ass. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

"It's getting really hot in here. We've got too much on. I want to dance again, but not dressed like this." He pushed me off his lap, and we moved out of the booth. His shirt's last buttons were removed and He balled the shirt and threw it back into the seat, designer silk treated like a rag. I pulled my tee off. His eyes never left my hairless chest--and my bulging nipples as he slowly peeled off his leathers. He stood before me, almost naked, revealing a crimson red silky bikini, a twin to the one he had worn on the beach. There must have been some interior construction because his rigid dick was fully outlined, a long tube stretching over the top of his thigh, but controlled inside, a thick knob emitting a darker wet spot toward his hip. Then he watched as I slipped out of my jeans, leaving ridiculously tented black boxer briefs. I reached down and caught my dick under the elastic waist. The tip poked out mischievously. It didn't do much to conceal my arousal. Involuntarily, I think, he licked his lips.

We moved to the floor as another fast number blasted out from the DJ's cube. This time I grabbed him from behind and plastered myself to his back. We moved together, a mating dance, swiveling hips and bumping and grinding as one. My dick planted in his cleft--and he wiggled a bit to try to catch it. My hands moved to his chest and cupped his pecs and squeezed his nipples. He moaned and turned his head so our lips could meet. Fuck, he was so hot! Then my fingers moved lower and fisted his bikini clad cock and balls. I pulled him into my crotch as we continued to move together, pushing my rigid dick into his crack. Fingers dipped into his bikini and caressed the naked tube. "I see you know how to do my favorite Catalan folk dance," he laughed. Meanwhile, several anonymous sets of hands rubbed my ass as I bent hard into him, thrusting my ass out onto the dance space.

The next piece was a slower one, and we danced the dance of pre-penetration. My eyes were closed as I breathed in the aromas of my Catalan lover, as his hands now held me by my glutes. Our cocks dueled between us, spilling clear pre-cum. With only two beers, I was intoxicated. I opened my eyes when the music tempo changed again and noted that many on the floor were now completely nude--and that several had already penetrated and were dancing the dance of a good deep fuck, bending partners forward, holding them tight with hands on waists as they slowly pulled in and out. Fuck, it was an orgy. One of the sexiest scenes I had ever witnessed in my life. Obviously clubbing in Latino-land was very different from making the same scene in Birmingham.

Ricardo saw me surveying the room and pulled away. He smiled and whispered, "Let's head to the little room I've booked. We can dance more after we've let off a little steam."

I laughed internally at his euphemism. "A little steam, sure. More likely a gush of red hot spunk." But, I was ready. It had been almost two weeks since Curry and I had enjoyed our last time together. My balls were bursting with my essence, and Ricardo was incredibly sexy and obviously ready to take the next steps. I released him, and his hand went around my waist, fingers dipping possessively inside by boxers, not at all discrete. His index finger was already poised at the center of my rim, applying pressure. I was his, and he was taking me to his bed. He directed me through a non-descript door, men's rooms to the right, a corridor of narrow bunk rooms to the left. He steered me left, used the key on his wrist to open one door, and flipped on the warning red light over the door as he shut us both inside and locked. It left us alone in dim light produced by a single red spot aimed at the center of the bunk. I turned and stared at the naked intent in his eyes. His cock was now perpendicular to his gut, held tight to his gut by the elastic of the bikini, the hood rolled back, oozing pre-cum. Fuck he was so sexy. He was a predator and an alpha male; there was no doubt. And his instrument of conquest was drawn and on exhibit.

"Alone at last, my dear American boy." The room was very narrow, really not much larger than the bunk bolted to the wall. A clean sheet had been fitted over the thin plastic covered mattress and a Vee-shaped pillow sat in the middle with a custom-fitted case on top. Ricardo reached over, slipped on the case and positioned the wedge into the center. He turned to me and with a quick stroke pulled my boxers to the floor, as my cock bounced off my gut. He stroked my dick and cradled my balls, holding them in his warm fingers, massaging like giant worry beads. "Very nice, very nice. You've got some pretty nice cojones, amic. And I guess you shaved them for me." His hand dropped from my balls. I looked down to see him roll the tight thong bikini the rest of the way off. Fuck, he was huge, long, fat, and dark. It was so big and heavy that it only could make 90 degrees. The hood had pulled back revealing only part of the glistening glans. He pushed me to the bed, moved in and offered it to me. I leaned into his magnificence and sucked the knob inside, using my lips to roll back the hood. My tongue circled, tasting while pleasuring. He was delicious. One hand moved to the base to stroke it as I sucked while the other grasped his rock hard cheek. His hands went behind my head to hold me in place as he swayed his hips face-fucking me. I looked up and saw the intense emotion in his eyes. I was doing that to him.

After only a minute or two of this treatment, he pulled out. "I want our first to be inside your ass, my beautiful boy." He reached under the bed and removed a plastic pouch--which contained condoms and lube. He pushed me to the bed, artfully fitting me over the wedge so my head was on the mattress and my back arched back toward him, my cock hanging down behind the wedge. My ass was perfectly presented for his use. I spread a little to get comfortable and relaxed into the sensuous pose.

He batted my legs farther and knelt between them, his chest falling onto my back. His lips went to my neck. I felt the teeth. And he sucked and bit, marking me, I'm sure. His chest molded to my back as his cock nestled up against me. I shivered in anticipation.

He teased my crack with his hard pole, which was large, but probably not so large as Curry's giant member. (Fuck, am I becoming a size-queen as well as a sub?) He backed off onto his knees. Then he bent down and lightly nipped each cheek. Fingers pried my tight cheeks apart and his lubed fingers reached in to coat the rim and poke and enlarge the hole. God that was so good. I pushed back into him, using my abs to raise myself from the wedge. His hands went under and took control of my erection and my balls. He stroked a few times until I pleaded with him to stop. "Use your polla, amic. I want you inside. Make me cum with your cock."

"You've been studying Catalan."

"Only the important words."

"Foteu, mi, amic."

"Actually, 'fuck me' will do. It's the same in any language."

He released and I felt the cool lube ooze out of the tube. The pad of a finger spread it around, and his index finger pushed it in and coated my chute. It was soon joined by another. And another. He scissored, swirled and opened like the pro he was. He penetrated deeply once, then again. I was opening very nicely. And the nut! He was indeed a pro, massaging it, squeezing it, poking it, each time producing waves of intense pleasure.

Finally I pleaded again. "No more fingers. Use the right tool for the job!" I was definitely going to enjoy these next few minutes. Nothing like a thick hard cock finding its way for the first time. I was so ready.

The hard sheathed head was at the gate, pushing, demanding entry. There was pain. There always is. I think that is what makes the pleasure even more concrete. I pressed into him, forced myself to relax, and waited. Then he popped in. I swallowed my own groan, but I heard the very American gasp, "Fuck you're tight, boy." Then he leaned in and branded my nape again as he applied the pressure that would gain him deeper entry. He caught the nut, and I hissed in appreciation. "Yes, right there. Do it stud. Pound it." He withdrew a few centimeters and thrust again, pounding it again and gaining deeper penetration. He punched again and again, moving around on top of me to hit my prostate from different angles. He was indeed a pro. A subtle move to the left, then the right, scraped the surface of the nut. Then he hit it head on and I yelped in the most intense feeling ever. He knew how to use his cock. His arms and legs held me tightly, asserting his dominance, as the cock twisted, rolled, pushed, pulled, and expanded. Oh shit, that felt so good. Soooo good. I lofted my ass into his gut showing how much I was enjoying his technique.

Then he dropped back onto his haunches and pulled me from the pillow and down into his lap. His cock slid all the way, bottoming, filling me, expanding my chute to accommodate his pole. I bounced a few times, feeling him expand even more. He grabbed my pecs and his thumb and forefinger squeezed hard, causing pain, then the incredible pleasure of shock waves carried by the sensitive nerves. I turned my head and he took my mouth, driving his tongue inside. A hand went to my windpipe to control my breathing. He pressed hard, leaving me breathless and at the very edge. Meanwhile his other hand had taken control of my dick, squeezing it to arrest my orgasm. Fuck, it was overload. He had control of my mouth, my tit, my cock and my hole. Just what the sub in me wanted. I was floating in orgasmic ecstasy, rising and falling in his lap, using his cock to stir up my guts. Physically begging for release.

Finally, he shifted his weight forward and pushed me back to the wedge as he drove, pounding over and over, never pulling his chest from my back, using those strong thigh and hip muscles to propel his shaft. My chute felt like it was dissolving, melting in the frictional heat he was creating, softened by his incessant pounding and stretching, leaving only my love nerves to be stimulated by his deep thrusting. I felt a giant ball of nerves, desire, pleasure forming in my gut. I moaned, groaned, squeezed my ass cheeks to increase the pressure. I wanted more, as much more as he could handle. Maybe he was the alpha, but I was running this part of the performance. That's what I mean by power bottom.

I could tell he was close. His grip on my shoulders tightened to hold me still so he could strain and achieve even greater depth. A minute or so later, the burning, tense feeling moved from deep inside my gut, spread through my arms and legs, and immediately moved to my balls. I reached out and grabbed the bar at the head of the bed, winding my fingers tightly around it, expressing my total surrender. My legs stiffened and my toes curled. I was one giant exposed nerve, soaking up pleasure like never before. I stretched my legs again, using the powerful thighs to propel me up into him, feeling the weight of his, holding mine apart. I felt his gut contract as his instrument cocked to push its seed deeply inside. Like a tightly coiled spring inside a squeezing pipe.

The room suddenly went quiet. We are at the very pinnacle. He murmured a deep throated "Ahhhhhhh. Dio mio." He was cuming. And it was going to be monumental. He released the trigger, and I felt the impact. Then, as he exploded into the safe, filling the bulb, I spurted into his waiting fist, filling it with my hot cum. I tightened down, trapping and massaging his cock, providing the perfect receiver for his spunk. The spasms lasted for minutes, at first spurting more, then the last dry. Until at last I felt his thigh muscles ease. He held hard and deep for more than a minute. Until finally, he released and stretched out his arms and fell into my back, holding me tightly to the wedge. Then he moved his fist to my face. I smelled the familiar odor of my own cum, and then he clamped his open fist over my mouth until I sucked it in.

I don't think I had ever been so thoroughly dominated and fucked before in my life. By a consummate Latin lover. A pro who treated fucking like the high art that it is. And I loved it. It is one thing to be fucked during an afternoon of sex play--even if he's a porn star, and another to be taken by the alpha male of the tribe. I squeezed my thighs, holding his seed deep inside. I wanted him, all of him, inside me.

We collapsed into a mound of hot, sweaty, spent flesh. Until he whispered, "You are some kind of a hot piece of ass, Juan. I've never had a better bottom. I think I'm going to become your personal guide for the rest of your trip. I want more, a lot more, of this sweet, talented ass." Then, he rose, caressed, then spanked my ass cheeks. He reached down and took my lips, finishing off our encounter with a powerful French. Then he stretched, pulling himself up to his maximum height, popping his pecs and flapping his glistening semi before my eyes, celebrating his epochal conquest. It was over. He was done. He bent over and pulled his bikini back on. "Put on the briefs, Juan. It's time to dance. We can try this again in a little while if you want."

If I want? He's got to be joking. I'm almost ready now. He groped around on the floor and found my black briefs. They were fragrant with our precum. But, I pulled them on nevertheless--as neither of us was ready to appear entirely naked back on the dance floor. I stood, hugged him to me, and we kissed.

Minutes later we straggled out of the back room and returned to the booth. Our eyes, our drooping hair, and our sweaty but totally spent bodies made it clear to anyone who looked that we had just fucked. Really fucked. Given it everything. Held nothing back. He was holding me tight, or I might not have been able to walk. I watched some of the eyes. Ricardo had done at least some of them before, and they were envious of what we had just done--and would do again that night. We were both still sporting semis, and his hand was spread possessively over an asscheek, fingers spead out in the cleavage. It was decidedly not a walk of shame. Two apex lovers had just mated. The species was safe.

Lukas and Marc returned to the booth a few minutes later. They looked almost the same as we did. Droopy eyes. Wet hair. Dark faces. Strained muscles. Almost naked. They poured themselves into the booth, Lukas in Marc's lap, his head on Marc's shoulder, lips straying from time to time to nuzzle his neck. They too were totally wasted. Lukas had clearly drilled Marc hard and dropped an enormous load, pushing one of equivalent size from Marc. There was no doubt what they had just experienced. But, they both were smiling, obviously aware of what Ricardo had accomplished and perhaps recalling what they had both just experienced. It was detumescence, but pregnant with future expectation.

There was no conversation. We listened to the music and watched. As hands slowly caressed various erogenous spots. Soon, it was my turn to get the next round. So I rose from the booth on rubbery legs, cock once again ridiculously tenting my boxers, redolent, I'm sure, of the musk and testosterone that clung to my hot skin, and went to the bar to order. While at the bar, two other guys, both very attractive Catalan boys, drew in tightly, one on either side, and began chatting as we waited for the cups to be delivered, rubbing my ass cheeks through the flimsy briefs. And just as I picked up the tray of drinks, one reached down into my briefs and squeezed. I almost dropped the tray. I looked at the perp. He was definitely cute, but not a Ricardo. "I'm taken for tonight, amigos. Maybe next time." I returned to the table, incredibly satisfied with myself. I was definitely fitting in, part of Barcelona's gay culture. I could have danced with any of the guys there--and almost any of them would have taken me to one of the little back rooms or home if I had agreed.

After a while, we got a second wind. We danced again in a room of dark naked guys, swinging dicks, some flying freely, some grasped in the sweaty fist of another, pulling others into spoon, necking, and in some cases pushing up into a hot hole. One particularly large guy was holding a twink to his chest as the smaller guy wrapped his arms around the neck and his legs around the other's waist. From the bounce, it was clear, the big guy was definitely plugging the twink as they danced. And it was obviously clear that the twink was having the dance of his life. Maybe this was another of the dance steps that were practiced in the clubs of Barcelona? Perhaps this level of revelry is what is reflected in the exuberant curves and surprises of Gaudi's work.

We did go back to the little room after another hour of dancing. This time, I was determined to take the initiative. I wanted to fuck Ricardo's beautiful ass. I had decided that if he saw me as "just" cum dump bottom, he'd grow quickly tired of me. After all, he had a room full of conquests around him. But, once in the room, we started to neck. One thing led to another until I found myself on the bottom again. He turned out to be very strong, and very persuasive. This time it was missionary.

No wedge this time. He jack-knifed me and rolled me up off the thin mattress. My toes locked into the bars built into the wall. Fuck, my dick hung only inches from my face, dripping the precum to my lips. He worked my hole with lubed fingers and my cockhead with a very talented tongue, edging me with both. Of course, I was still dripping from his first load. I was no match for his technique and his aggression. Then he lofted above me like a god in the push up position and plunged as our eyes met. He smiled. He had detected the surprise, the pleasure and the submission in my eyes. Ricardo was a stud, a confirmed top, and in charge. I wasn't even thinking about protesting. Even the fact that this time he had gone in bare. He was just too good a cocksman.

Curry had never turned me on like this. Had never drawn out my pleasure for so long. Had never taken me so thoroughly that I didn't know what end was up. Curry was big and with a trigger response. But we were boys playing around. Ricardo had finesse, talent, stamina, and by the way, a pretty decent cock. My ass belonged to him. He knew it. And I knew it. My ego could handle it. It had to, my ass was having way too much fun. But, it was just a vacation spin. Nothing long term. Fuck, Juan, just lay back, submit, and enjoy. You only live once. And you only get fucked in Barcelona by a man as beautiful and talented as Ricardo once in your life--or maybe, if you're lucky, a few times over a few days, if you could manage to ditch the family.

TBC

BD