Prologue

David had had a horrendous few days, saying goodbye to the first boy he had ever loved. Beginning as his part-time gardener, young Tim had quickly become the love of his life, a life cruelly cut short by a crazed Man U fan who fatally stabbed him in an after-the-game melee, seeking revenge for the thrashing his West Ham team had inflicted on the famous Man U side on the pitch.

With much difficulty, David had stayed put till after the funeral but needed a total escape from anywhere that the image of his lost love would suddenly appear. An image from the many wonderful ones that he had stored in his head. So, the day after the funeral, he was headed for Barcelona, a city he had fond memories of, and hoped would provide a temporary diversion. David's actual destination is the famous Las Ramblas, the promised center of the action, for him in Barcelona and one that holds many fun memories from previous carefree visits. Not the most salubrious part of town but never without constant action.

Las Ramblas can also be roughly divided into seedy and non-seedy areas. This distinction between seedy and non-seedy becomes a lot clearer during the nighttime when the southernmost end of the Ramblas becomes something of a red-light district and is frequented by ladies of the night. Not that ladies in any form are of interest to David but it is interesting how many times in the far reaches of the world's great cities that feature such areas are also of interest to those gay men who fancy young straight boys. It should not be that surprising, as the ladies of the night feel safe from being hassled when relaxing in a mostly gay bar, and straight boys find it a turn on that they suddenly find such ladies as fellow customers. The fact that men, who they have never met before, also frequent those bars and insist on buying drinks for the boys is only an added attraction. After a few relaxing drinks, the offer of a complications-free head job is often acceptable, with or without any monetary consideration.  Under the circumstances of this visit, sex definitely does not have its usual importance for David, although company pleasing to the eye,, is always welcome.

Whilst David normally stays in 5-star hotels, that was not wanted for this visit. Instead, he is returning to his past and staying at a small private hotel, just off the Ramblas, where he previously had such relaxed fun. 

2.0 - Hostel Fernando

My taxi from Barcelona's El Prat airport to Las Ramblas dropped me close to the cruise port end of the boulevard. A two-minute walk north, taking the first narrow lane-way to the right, and the entrance is ahead. Just a glass doorway, with the hotel sign above it. I enter the small space inside where a sign suggests ringing the bell on the mini unattended desk. I do so and after a short interval a large lady, dressed all in black, appears at the top of the stairs and calls down to me to come on up.

The lady's name is Maria, she checks the booking form and tells me I am in number "cinco', which being in Barcelona sounds more like 'thinko', Maria opens the door to show me the room; just inside and behind the door is a miniature kitchen with just the basics, enough for snacks and drinks. To the left is some wardrobes that have seen better days, the door looking as if a good shove and it would fall off. in the far corner is a large double bed. The front wall, above Las Ramblas, contains two sets of curtained windows. The set to the right has a mini table with two chairs in front of it, and what looks like a small balcony outside of it.

I drop my luggage on the floor. Maria takes me down the hallway to inspect the bathroom. Only for men she insists, the ladies are on the next floor, upstairs. The bathroom was, as I remember, very communal. Washbasins, with large above mirrors, along the right-hand wall and an all-in-together shower area to the left. the remnants of a shower curtain hanging from an overhead railing. I am most pleased that the bathroom has so far escaped modernization.

I hope the place is busy with many young lads and am pleased to hear that with my arrival now, the hostel is full. I look forward to enjoying many showers with pleasing eye candy, surrounded by naked youth. Returning to my room, number five, I unpack and prepare to venture out onto Las Ramblas for the first time in more than two years. I almost have a feeling of having come back home. This is a city in which I have always felt relaxed, and I have pleasant memories from my many previous visits.

The young Spanish male is a very proud, beautiful, and sexy individual.

3.0 - Juan.

The first stop is a cafe I have supped at on many previous occasions. It is directly opposite Fernando, and I stand in front of the entrance perusing the approved menu. Once again marveling at the Spanish foresight that requires all eateries in Spain to lodge their menus for approval. The prices must be in accordance with the level of the establishment. so something that a Tapas Bar can only charge 20 pesos for, could maybe be approved at 30 or 40 pesos in an opulent fine dining restaurant. The approved menu copy has an official government stamp attached. He notices that whilst he is reading the menu at the border fence of the outdoor alfresco dining area, a rather attractive young waiter is anxiously watching him from inside the cafe, ready to be of any assistance if he decides to enter. He smiles; in nearby Italy or Greece the waiters would be all over him almost dragging him inside, the Spanish are a little more professional than that.

I enter the main part of the cafe, and Juan, as his name-tag informs me, follows me to the table that I have selected, and places the food and drink menus on it. I will be sitting against the far wall from where I can watch both the waiters and the customers as much as I wish so to do. I have always been impressed by the bodies of Spanish males, so slim, their well-cut trousers so form-fitting. Juan is no exception, his shoulder-length jet black hair just longing to have fingers run through it. His body-clinging, slightly laced, white shirt, topped with a black bow tie, his black trousers cutely rounded at the rear and nicely bulged in front, finished off with a vivid red cummerbund wrapped around his middle. A dashing figure indeed! You could almost imagine him facing a charging bull. The ready smile that lights up his face suggest that he would be a nice boy to know, and maybe worth fostering. so the game begins.

"So, tell me, Juan, how long have you been working here?"

"Almost one year now, sir. I come from the country many hours from here, up close to the border with Andorra."

"So you are a true Catalan?"

"Very much so, but I do not get involved with politics."

"Very wise, my friend. I have not been here for a couple of years so I may need some advice as to where to go?"

"No problems, sir!"

"One rule, no sir, you must call me David."

"OK, David," he replied with that big open country-boy smile.

"I ate on the plane, and before that at Gatwick airport, so only a snack is called for, and maybe some late-night snacks later, Spanish style. How about the Stuffed Baby Squid and a small carafe of Rioja."

Juan nods as he writes down my order and leaves to execute it. As he walks away from the table I am impressed with both his body and his natural grace. He would make a most enjoyable companion. No doubt straight, but sex is not foremost on my menu under the current circumstances, unless it presents itself along the way, It does not have its usual level of importance. A chance coupling in those communal showers would suffice, just the essential physical release.

My meal arrives, the squid amazingly soft and tender, the flesh infused with the herbs from the minced meat stuffing, as only the Spanish seem to be able to achieve. It is accompanied by a pile of thin potato slices, fried to a crisp, and a crunchy biscuit-like bowl of mini vegetables, corn, peas, finely diced onion, and capsicums. Like most Spanish cuisine, so simple yet tasty. Not unlike Juan himself!

Snippets of conversation followed during and after the meal, Juan was very happy tc chat with me in an amicable way, clearly devoid of any inhibitions, so I asked.

"Tonight I want to find a small relaxing bar, with nice music where I will not get hassled, to have a few drinks, any suggestions?"

"Where do you go?" I quickly added.

"There is one place, not far from here, I am not sure if you will like it, it is a bit strange but I feel comfortable there."

"I will like it if you join me when you finish work and let me buy you a few drinks?" The offer for me to buy, immediately took out of the equation any problem with his financial situation.

"OK. I finish at ten o'clock tonight, it is called Pablo's, he is very crazy but he has been a good friend to me when I first arrived here, down from the country."

Juan pointed out where the bar was, down the narrow street that went past my hostel entrance.

"OK my friend, see you there at ten?"

"My pleasure."

4.0 - Pablo.

Crossing over Las Ramblas from the cafe, I strolled down the car-less lane-way, past my hotel entrance, towards the Pablo bar Juan had recommended. The tall buildings on either side almost seemed to be leaning in towards each other, On the way, I passed an interesting tapas bar, where I stopped to check out the menu, for future reference.

It was a strange menu. I was quite familiar with Spanish tapas but had never seen a menu like this one. I looked up at the sign and it said Tapas Internacional, underneath was Food of the World. Another fifty meters and I saw the pink neon sign, 'Pablo's' above the sign was draped a fiery red boa. From inside I heard music being pumped out, Roberta Flack's Killing me Softly. I pushed the front door open and was immediately hit by two things; an icy cold blast from the air-con, and a screeching "Welcome to Pablo's".

Ahead of me was a large inverted horseshoe bar, almost the only lighting was above and behind the bar where I could see two young barmen. At the apex of the horseshoe was a mountain of a man, face made up, a wig on his head wearing what looked like a caftan, His voluminous body shook all over when he spoke and laughed. As I made my way towards the right-hand, less populated section of the bar and settled on a bar-stool some boys from the more crowded left side came across as if to join me. I just held up my hand and shook my head and Pablo, as I guessed the man-mountain was, screamed out at them in Spanish and they retreated back to the left side, where their giggling friends were.

Pablo called across to me. "Just relax, my friend. No one will harass you at Pablo's. Anything you want, just come and ask Pablo."

I nodded my thanks, feeling more relaxed, and looked into the face of the smiling barman. The two barmen were both bare-chested, wearing very loose-fitting black shorts suspended by old-fashioned red braces. They had not been selected solely for their barmen experience, both were charmers. Mine told me his name was Domingo and that he was from Tenerife, in the Canary Islands. I ordered my usual Whiskey and soda. He was about to pour it into a micro-glass, one ice cube, two swallows and it would be gone till I stopped him and asked if he had a bigger glass as I prefer a long drink, with plenty of ice and soda. When he relayed this to Pablo he was directed to a special cupboard where he extricated an almost perfect heavy-based whiskey glass.

Once again I nodded my thanks across to Pablo. I sipped my drink, perfect. I think I am going to get to like this place. Not that the boys grouped on the other side were of any interest to me, most were way too effeminate for my taste. As I always say, if girls do not interest me why would I be attracted to boys who want to act like girls?

The two barmen were much more my 'cup of tea'. And, of course, I was about to be joined by the amazing Juan. If this was his preferred drinking place, count me in! It was not long and I drained my drink and ordered a second. I was careful to tip well, but not stupid, I was just after good service and pleasant chit-chat, not trying to buy him, though I would not mind doing so.

I had almost finished my second drink, and a third was put down in front of me unordered. I looked at Domingo and frowned, as that is not the way I want it. He pointed to Pablo, who just waved with 'Enjoy!' shouted across. One on the house? This was becoming more my kind of place at every stage. It was soon to get better. I had noticed that the Gents was behind a door a few meters to my right. Domingo slipped out from behind the bar and went in that direction. With a lifetime of habit and practice, I also nonchalantly slipped off my bar-stool and went in the same direction, totally coincidently, of course.

As I pushed open the door of the Gents, I saw ahead of me one cubicle, a washbowl on the right, and twin urinals on the left. Domingo was standing at the far urinal. He turned to me and smiled, seemingly not objecting to my presence. I stood beside him, we both glanced down at each other from time to time, whilst the conversation was inane.

"Too much to drink must get rid of some!"

"You will make room for some more."

Domingo finished before me and busied himself in front of the mirror above the washbasin. I joined him and commented on his very baggy shorts.

"Why so big?"

I was just enough drink-relaxed to be a bit cheeky, but I was in a gay bar, so I turned him around and grabbed the front waistline of his shorts. It made quite a gap with his stomach, so I said.

"I  know why, it is so the customers can put their hands down inside." As I said this I did that exact thing getting a nice handful of boy genitals. Domingo just held my arm and said.

"Nice, but I must get back to work or Pablo will notice."

"I understand," I replied as I reluctantly removed my arm.

Domingo left and I remained there motionless so I could also return as if we had not been here together. It worked as no eyes appeared to be on me as I regained my bar-stool.

"You are a naughty boy." Domingo admonished me, but with a nice smile that said do it again anytime. I smiled back.

Just then there was much commotion as someone new entered Pablo's. It was Juan!

Pablo screamed out, "the divine Juan, come and give Mama a big hug and a kiss."

Juan walked towards Pablo but looked across to me and nodded in greeting. A ritual was about to be performed. He approached Pablo with his hand outstretched. Juan was pulled into a half hug, but I was relieved to see that there was no kiss. After a few words were exchanged whilst looking in my direction, Juan came across and sat beside me.

He wanted a Cuba Libre, which was what the Spanish call a white Bacardi, coke and a dash of lime, I have no idea as to why it is called that. I ordered one, and Domingo served it with his usual smile. The two boys were obviously friendly with each other and they exchanged a little Spanish chatter before Juan turned to me.

"I supposed you are wondering what a straight boy like me is doing in a gay bar like this?"

"It had crossed my mind."

"I was very lost, and a bit lonely, when I first arrived in the big city and had no idea as to where to go. One night after work, a good tip night, I felt like a few drinks to relax, walked past here, heard the music, and came inside. A couple of men started to crowd me and Pablo called me over, explaining that I was safe here and to tell him if anyone troubled me any time. He also told the men to leave me alone so I could relax and enjoy my drink. A few of my drinks that night were complimentary from Pablo, and I began to feel comfortable just sitting here, listening to the music and talking to the barmen."

"So it has since become my usual switch-off place. Pablo may seem strange to you, but he has been a great help to me on a few occasions since. He has become a good friend. Behind the facade, he is quite an astute businessman."

Juan and I enjoyed a few drinks and chatted about our past lives. Sometimes Domingo joined in with our conversations, other times just Juan and me. The atmosphere was very relaxed and it was just what I had been looking for, and needed.  After a few more drinks I was at a point where sleep would come easily, and I hoped, dreamlessly. Juan had already mentioned that he had a one-hour trip ahead of him to get home where he had to do his laundry before starting tomorrow, now today, at ten o'clock.

So, we left after saying good night to Domingo, with a wink from him to me, and Pablo who entreated me 'to look after the boy' I assured him that Juan was in safe hands and we left. The heat hit us as we left the air-con, but it was not too bad.

Going past the Tapas bar, I asked Juan about it.

"It is not actually Spanish. They do popular snacks from many countries around the world, presented in tapas style, small plates, finger food."

"Have you tried it, is it any good?"

"Too expensive for me but I have been told about the food, that it is excellent and interesting."

"Then we must try it one night."

By saying so I was confirming that Juan and I were to be friends and companions for as long as I was in Barcelona, or at least that is what I hoped. He seemed to be happy with that as we shook hands at my hostel doorway. I knew that I could not yet invite him in, that may come later, we always live in hope!

"Thank you for everything." he said as he departed, "See you tomorrow?"

"For sure, " I replied.

I stopped in front of my hostel entrance, used the master key I had been given for any late-night return, and entered, climbing the stairs to my room. Inside I stripped off, wrapped myself in a towel, and proceeded down to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. Unfortunately, the room was empty but I felt the heat from a recent hot shower and wondered what I may have just missed. My shower was most welcome but uneventful. Afterward, I returned to my room, and collapsed on the bed, quite happy with my first day back in Barcelona, having met two charming boys, Juan and Domingo, who were both sure to become pleasant diversions from my grief.

5.0 - The busy shower room.

In the morning I overslept, but what the matter, as I was on holiday with no fixed schedule other than to have lunch during Juan's shift at the cafe. Setting up my laptop on the small table, I pulled the curtain back and could see my charming waiter, across the road, serving some customers, laughing and joking in his natural manner. After making sure that the world had not collapsed and I had not lost my small fortune, I could not put it off any longer. It was out and down to feast my eyes once more on the amazing Juan.

He greeted me like an old lifetime friend so I was over affectionate, shaking hands with my right and letting my left rest on his hip. it seemed natural and he did not seem to mind. A nice start to the day!

“Just a coffee, to wake me up.”

“Coming up, sir.” replied the boy, with mock seriousness.

I settled in what had become to be my usual table, where I could watch without being watched. When Juan returned with my espresso, accompanied by the usual small glass of ice water, I asked Juan.

“What time do you finish tonight?”

“The same as last night, ten o’çlock”

“Same again? Meet you in Pablo’s for a couple of drinks?”

“OK, but it must be an early night for me, as I have many things to do at home.

“No problem,” I replied, though disappointed.

“By the way, when is your day off? I want to take you out to a very good restaurant as a special treat. What is your favorite to eat?”

“That would be fantastic. I love any seafood. My holiday day is not till next Monday.”

“Great, I will research seafood restaurants in Barcelona between now and then.”

I sipped my coffee, pleased that Juan had accepted my dinner offer without complaint, almost as if we were old friends.

My plan was to have a few drinks chatting to the sexy Domingo, whilst waiting for the main event. A pleasant evening was assured. 

*******

After leaving  Juan’s cafe, I strolled up Las Ramblas to the Plaza de Catalunya at the northernmost end. A huge obelisk-like statue stood in the center of the plaza, and the entire area was full of tourists, local and foreign. I knew from previous visits that this area became quite a cruising site late at night, maybe I would visit one night, but better not.

On the way back to my hostel, I checked out quite a few restaurants for future reference, noting a Moroccan one, Marrakech, I must visit as Tangines I love. Back at Fernando’s, I was wet through from so much walking in the heat of Barcelona, so I stripped off and went for a shower. As I approached I could hear much laughter coming from inside the bathroom. When I entered I saw two young tourist boys using the furthest two shower heads, and playing games soaping each other. They ignored my entrance to the shower at the end, where I left one vacant one between us. The boys were speaking a language I did not recognize but as they were white-skinned, and circumcised I assumed them to be from one of the Muslim parts of Yugoslavia. I would have loved to join them in their game, but sadly an impossibility.

I showered and left, leaving them to do whatever they were doing before I arrived. My room was far cooler than outside but still warm, so I sprawled naked on my unmade bed, letting the light wind from the overhead fan waft over me. I did not want to overdo it with Juan so did not return there during the day, instead, I dined at Marrakech, enjoying a Lamb and Prunes Tangine, which was wonderful. Meat, prunes, and potatoes had all been steamed in the tangine, infused with those aromatic Arabian herbs. When the ceramic tangine was presented at the table and the lid removed the incredible smell that escaped was overwhelming.

I did drop into Juan’s for an after-dinner coffee, just to remind him of our later meeting at Pablo’s. I regaled him with my dinner description and he promised to try it with me one night. Approaching nine o’çlock, I sauntered down to Pablo’s, entered, and after a greeting and welcome from the man himself, sat myself down in front of the smiling Domingo, at the same position as last night.

“And how is Barcelona’s sexiest barman tonight?” I inquired.

“Ready to serve the sexiest customer in Pablo’s.” replied the cheeky boy.

I pretended to look around and said. “Then where can we go?”

“Serve you a drink, your usual Whiskey Soda, David?”

“If that is all that is on the menu. I’d much rather wrap my lips around something else. Though.”

“You are naughty, you will get me into trouble with Pablo.”

“Why, is he your boyfriend?”

“No way.” Domingo replied, with a shocked expression. “But we are not supposed to play around with the customers.”

“Don’t worry, I will not tell Pablo. I was going to invite you out on your night off, I suppose that is taboo also.”

“Yes, it would have to be a secret.” I could understand Pablo’s reasoning, he employed straight-looking attractive barmen as a lure to his customers, if the boys were kept on a short leash then the horny customers would continually return to try their luck. Any word of them having been out with other customers would spoil the dream!

“No problem, just tell me which day or night, and where to meet you, and it is on. I stay at the Hostel Fernando, just down the road, room five, you can call there any time?”

My hands were around my glass, resting on the bar counter. Domingo looked across to make sure that Pablo was not watching and reached out and wrapped his hand around mine giving it a slight squeeze. I guessed that was as far as we were going to go that night. Another communal visit to the Gents would be going too far. I had no wish to leave him with problems after my departure from Spain, as this was his life and he had to survive in it as well as possible.

After a couple of drinks, though I did have to visit the gents, I jokingly suggested that Domingo join me, and he shook his head, with a smile and whispered ‘sorry’. I did not escape completely though, as I had only just started to urinate and I was joined by one of the regular slightly effeminate boys who told me his name was Carlo. He was very obvious, making sure I got a good look at his oversize member. I was always amazed at how often such effeminate boys were so well hung, almost like a waste. If I had been anywhere else I would have been happy to give it a little stroke, it certainly deserved it, but not here.

Back at the bar, Domingo quizzed me, after watching the boy depart the Gents and return to the other side of the bar, back to giggling with his friends.

“You play games with Carlo?” he asked, whether, from curiosity or jealousy, I do not know.

“No way,” I replied. “Though he was certainly willing.”

“Very big boy.” I added, and we exchanged smiles. ‘’Just like you.”

I checked my watch, it was almost showtime!

I was halfway through my next drink, and Juan arrived, to the usual process, same as last night. After greeting Pablo in what was, I am sure, the accepted way, he came across and joined me. I had his icy cold Cuba Libre ready waiting for him. He lifted it, saluted me, and gulped half of it down in one swallow. 

“Thirsty boy?”

“Very. A lousy night, many boring customers.”

“Big tips” I joked.

“No way, all Spanish locals.”

As we were in almost total darkness on our side of the bar, I could not keep my hands off him. I continually let my hand rest on his thigh, sometimes even running my fingers lightly over it. He did not seem to mind. If he had of objected it would probably have freaked me out. I was fancying this boy more so every time I met him. To just sleep cuddled up with him would be the ultimate.

As usual, when you are having fun, the time flies, and it was way too soon when Juan apologized and said he must go home early, but he promised to stay out later tomorrow night. My heart raced as I wondered if that could include a sleepover? Probably not, but why not dream?

6.0  - Cruising.

After Juan left Pablo’s it felt flat, so I said goodbye to the sexy Domingo and the gross Pablo and departed. I kept telling myself not to but it did not work and instead of going up to my room, I turned right and strolled up Las Ramblas towards the naughty Plaza. As I approached I could recognize a few cruisers of various ages, among a few straggling tourists who had no idea what most of the boys strolling around the statue had in mind.

I sat on one of the seats and watched for a while until one particular boy took my fancy. Of course, I was well aware of the dangers; muggings, bashings, police, etc., but I had been living like this for more than 20 years. The thrill of anonymous sexual encounters was a drug that those who had not encountered it could neither imagine nor understand. I knew the rules and I was disobeying them all. You leave your wallet, handphone, and watch at home, just shoving some notes into your pocket, just enough to buy your way out of any trouble. Instead, I was sitting here with a wallet packed with cash and cards, my latest gold Longines on my wrist. But the excitement of the chase was overwhelming.

I was watching a rather pleasant young man, typically Spanish with his immaculate black shoulder-length hair, perfect erect posture with almost the grace of a dancer as he walked, his shirt unbuttoned at the front, his form-fitting black trousers enticing. He was definitely cruising, but for what. Was he a money boy, I thought not, even though they were often the safest. He had already made two circuits and both times we had made eye contact so this time I stood up and followed him about 20 meters behind. He became aware of what I was doing with a discreet look over his shoulder, and he left the plaza via a narrow side street.

I followed, keeping the same distance behind and trying to look as casual as possible.

The game was on!

The narrow road was deserted, with no cars and only us two pedestrians. Music and chattering escaped from the occasional open window at street level or above. I was being led blindly and was a sitting target for anything. We were well away from the safety of the Plaza, it was now deathly quiet. The boy stopped in front of a building entrance, seemed to hesitate for a minute, then disappeared into it.

When I got to where he had gone I could see no one. It was an entrance to a family compound, very Spanish. Ahead, was a small very dark alcove, a meter or so in from the footpath was a fancy iron gate that totally filled the alcove, ahead of that I could see through the gate, was what looked like a small fountain, turned off for the night, in the middle of a courtyard. It was surrounded by buildings, all with flowered balconies overlooking it. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. He could not have gone through the gate as I would have heard the noise of him doing so. I tentatively entered the alcove and looked ahead through the gate. All was quiet as if everyone was sleeping as it was now in the early hours of the morning.

I was mystified as to where my boy had gone. Then I sensed a presence and could see a shadow against the wall at the left of the alcove. Still looking straight ahead through the gate, I shuffled slightly to my left until the back of my hanging hand felt material. I touched him very lightly, there was no reaction. So, I pressed slightly harder against what must have been his bulge, and waited, ready to run if a fist came at me. Instead, I felt his hand gently cover mine.

The game was now definitely on!

As I turned to face him, our noses almost touched. I removed my left hand and replaced it with my right, with which I cupped his bulge and gently fondled him. With my left hand, I grabbed his hand and placed it on the front of my trousers, his fingers immediately began to squeeze and play. Our noses now were almost side by side so I stuck my tongue out making contact with his upper lip. With my tongue, I traced across it and then all along his lower one. I was about to repeat the process and his lips opened and our tongues met before we enjoyed a wild and heavy kiss.

It was time for the unzipping and the action to begin. As dangerous as it was, anyone could arrive at the entrance at any minute, but when the juices are flowing you do not care, you are not even aware of the risk!. I undid his top trouser button and pulled them down to his mid-thighs, enjoying the feel of throbbing boy flesh. Time was of the essence so I dropped down and took him in my mouth, a sudden intake of breath suggested he liked the idea. After a few minutes, I stood back up, placing my hands gently on his shoulders, curious to see if he would reciprocate. He did not hesitate but immediately stooped down. We alternated a few times before the pressures became too great and we almost simultaneously white-washed the entrance gate.

As soon as it was over the reality of how stupid we had been to do that here hit us and we hurriedly restored our dress so we could depart. He went onwards, and I returned back towards the Plaza, the only way I knew to get home. There were a handful of young men still cruising the area, One rather cute one gave me a smile as I passed.

Sorry, you are an hour too late, I thought to myself.

7.0 - Domingo

I was sitting at the bar at Pablo's, on my normal bar-stool, drinking my usual Whiskey Soda. making small talk with 4Domingo. I had almost given the place a miss tonight as Juan had changed, and worked the early breakfast shift at the cafe and had already gone home. Only the thought of catching up with the alluring Domingo had brought me here, He was playing his usual game of placing his hand fleetingly over mine as I held my glass resting on the bar. then moving it away quickly so no one else would see. I joked with him about his name, Domingo being the Spanish for Sunday.

"So, you were born on a Sunday, and they called you Domingo?"

"Yes, it is supposed to be very lucky."

"Why did you want to leave Tenerife? I believe it is very beautiful?"

"It is, but it is also like a village, everyone knows all about you. I could never  have worked in a bar like this in Tenerife, everybody would be shocked and my family would be ridiculed."

"So, Domingo, when are you going to let me take you to a nice restaurant? It can be for dinner or one day for lunch before you start work?"

"Maybe lunch would be easier."

""Tomorrow?"

"Possibly."

"Do you know where I am staying?"

"Yes, Fernando, I saw it when going home last night."

"What time do you want to meet? The front door is always open during the daytime, so you can just come in, come up the stairs and knock on room number five."

"Eleven o’çlock tomorrow?" He whispered.

"Perfect, I should be awake by then."

A couple of drinks, and I was ready for an early night as I was quite tired having been up early to breakfast with Juan this morning after my late-night cruising experience of last night. Having agreed to a rendevous with Domingo for tomorrow, I left quite happy. 

*******

I had slept soundly, now lying awake but with my eyes still shut, listening to the noises of life from Las Ramblas, outside my windows; music mingled with people shouting and car horns blaring. I thought I had heard a different noise, and there it was again, gentle tapping on my door. jumped up from the bed, just in my jocks, morning erection fully on show, and answered the door a little. Seeing the smiling Domingo I opened the door just nough for him to slide inside.

“It is not fair. “I said. “You are fully dressed and I am almost naked.”

With that, I gave him a friendly grope as a welcome. 

“Do you want to come and have a shower with me?”

“I already have a shower, but you can go if you want?”

“I would rather go back to bed, but with you.”

“You are naughty!”

All this time I had kept massaging the front of his jeans. They now showed the unmistakable sign of being filled with a very solid erection, which I continued to stroke, now feverishly. As I unbuttoned the front of his jeans, he made no complaint, so I pulled him towards the bed and sat on the edge of it. My head was now at a convenient crutch height, so as I pulled his jeans down everything sort of fell out right in front of my face. I could not resist it, I leaned forward and sucked his now full erection. It was only a teaser as I wanted him naked on my bed. After a little bit of wriggling, we were both in that state and I pulled the sheet over us and wrapped him in my arms.

Domingo had such a nice cuddly body that I could have almost gone back to sleep, but we had other things to do first. He was certainly no straight boy as he kissed and sucked with the best of them. In fact, he was so passionate that I feared an early end to our playing, and I had to slow him down.

“Sorry, I am so horny, it has been a long time,” he explained.

“Well, we will just have to make it a fantastic one,” I said as I moved my head once more across his chest and stomach down to his twitching cock. He moaned and wriggled, trying to thrust upwards but I held my hands on his hips to restrain him. I prefer to be the one in control. Rolling him over so that he was now lying on top of me, he became even more passionate, our hips grinding against each other. I let him slide down on me. He knelt between my knees, sucking as if there was no tomorrow. I had to

slow him down again or all would be over in seconds.

Then, that is what happened as nature took over and I erupted. I dragged him back into a cuddling position and we lay like that, in silence. The noises from the street were accentuated. It was almost as if he was a little lost boy and me, his protector.

I think I drifted off into a light sleep, not sure about Domingo. He woke me saying he wanted to go to the bathroom. I said I would accompany him and have a shower. So I grabbed two towels for us to drape around our bodies and led the way down the hallway to the bathroom, which was empty. At the last minute I had remembered to grab my door key, so we could get back into the room.

I was hot and sweaty so welcomed the strong downpour from the shower. Domingo used the toilet then joined me in the shower, at first under the next shower head but soon under the same one as me, as we soaped each other. It was not long before we were both erect once more, this time with a soapy finish.

Lucky no one else decided on a shower at the same time, then again it may have been fun if they had.

Back in the room we dressed and went off for the original reason for the visit, lunch! I suggested going to Juan’s but Domingo was adamant he did not want anyone with any connection to Pablo’s to know of us meeting up. No real problem with a hundred other options within a 10-minute walk.  We found a nondescript Spanish cafe which Domingo was happy with and dined there. Nothing sensational, but OK. A large carafe of Sangria and we were both soon very relaxed, Domingo could not stop giggling at the smallest thing. I threatened to start groping him, under the table if he did not stop, but that only made him worse. Soon lunch was over and he had to go and prepare the bar for work, as it opened at four o’çlock. We said goodbye with a small hug in front of the restaurant and walked separately back down Las Ramblas.

I dropped into Juan’s for an after-lunch coffee, he asked where I had dined, but not who with, so no lies. We arranged to meet later at Pablo’s and I returned to my room and another short nap. When I awoke I was all hot and sweaty again, so went for another shower. This time I was not alone. One of the central shower positions was taken by a very attractive teenage blue-eyed blond boy, also circumcised. This time I guessed, USA, and was proven to be correct, Chris from Dallas. Obviously, straight as all he wanted to talk about was the beautiful girls in Barcelona. He had just finished high school and was on a hitchiking European tour before going to College, very open and slightly naive as so many young Americans are. That did not faze me as it also meant that he was most likely very horny, and would therefore respond to the slightest touch, and so it eventuated.

Offering to soap his back for him, he responded by swinging around and presenting his rearview to me, which was also quite attractive and neat. I worked up quite a lather and starting with his shoulders, slowly worked all the way down his spine. After patting him on his cute bum, I spun him around, to which he did not object. I was pleased to see that whilst not erect his cock had lengthened nicely, no doubt from the bodily contact. I made a joke about how the local girls would love to get hold of his cock, whilst giving it a playful swipe with my still soapy hand. He did not object to my touch so I grabbed it a bit harder, saying.

“I bet this thing gets sucked every day in Dallas.”

“I wish but no such luck, no girlfriend at present.’’

Maybe he had yet to learn that you do not need a girl to have sex.

“They don’t know what they are missing,” I replied, pandering to his macho ego.

“That is for sure.‘’ The grinning boy agreed.

Enough for now, a promising start. We left the bathroom, his room was directly opposite, I suggested he came down to mine when he was dressed, although I would have much preferred him as he was right now. He invited me into his room while he dressed, showing zero inhibitions, which would have been strange if he had as we had just been naked together in the shower.

He dressed and then followed me down to my room where it was my turn to parade around naked. I presented him with a cold San Miguel, which he accepted happily, as he sat on the edge of my bed. My room, and my bed, were both at least twice the size of his, obviously a much cheaper alternative for his budget tour of Europe. He was fascinated by my background history, as he himself intended a career in IT. We enjoyed another cold beer each, and it was time for me to depart.

I guessed that he was not ready for a visit to Pablo’s tonight, so instead, I arranged to meet him first thing tomorrow morning for breakfast. 

8.0 – Chris

A tap on the door and I opened it to allow a smiling Chris to come in. He was all agog at how many Spanish girls had accosted him last night on Las Ramblas, offering so many different variations of sex. I took him over to Juan’s for breakfast.  I introduced Chris to Juan.

“’This is Chris, a sex-starved American who is also staying at Fernando’s. He is intent on seducing many Spanish girls.”

“You do not seduce Spanish girls, they seduce you!” my Juan replied.

“Lead me on.” said an excited Chris.

I could not believe it when he ordered a beer with his breakfast. He was disappointed that there were no breakfast options with hash browns but settled for French fries instead with his sausages, bacon, beans and eggs. I had a Spanish Omelette, as I had enjoyed the one I had a few days earlier, a small but thick omelette stuffed with sliced potato and diced onions, peas, corn kernels, and capsicum, a blob of sour cream on top. We also shared a pile of buttered toast.

Two black espressos, and I was awake again, ready for another day in delightful Barcelona. After breakfast, we went back to my room at Fernando’s. Chris was happy to join me as he said his room was so small room it was like a prison. Due to the lack of alternatives, we sprawled on my bed. All he could talk about was finding a girl, he was quite obsessed with it, no doubt horny as hell. I joined in his fantasies, suggesting all sorts of sex action that may happen to him, leavig out completely what I had in mind.

“Have you ever had a massage?” I inquired, innocently.

“Once, after soccer training,” he replied.

“It's very relaxing. When I go to Bali, it is a daily thing for most tourists and the local men.”

“Why not the women as well?”

“It is not the done thing for them to lie naked on a massage table.”” I explained.

“I would have no problem with that.”

“”Which, you lying naked on the table or the women doing it?”

“Both.” said the grinning boy.

“Roll over onto your stomach.” I suggested.

He did so and I started to massage his shoulders through his T-shirt. “Ooooh, that feels good.” he cooed, innocently, not knowing what was coming.

“Then take your shirt off and it will feel better.”

He did not hesitate, immediately sitting up for a minute to take it off. Now I kneeled beside him but with my right knee between his legs, and started to methodically massage his back, slowly working up and down his spine. Then I fleetingly massaged his backside through his shorts before going down to the back of his ankles and massaging the back of his calves and the small part of his thighs that were outside of his shorts.

“Take them off if you want me to do your legs as well?”

He did so, then the cheeky boy asked.

“How much do you charge for a massage?”

“Lucky boy, today is free.’’ I joked. The payment I was seeking was not in cash.

I was now kneeling above a perfect boy body, sleek, well-toned, and expectant.

I went back to his shoulders, and started all over again, my hands slipping under his soft blonde locks. This time I lingered over giving his bubble butt a good massage through his blue cotton jocks. He did not complain. Down to his left ankle and I slowly worked up the back of calf and thigh, really working the inside of his thigh. About one inch from his groin I said.

“ This is as far as a masseur is supposed to go. If they continue right up into your groin, that is the first sign that your massage may have a ‘happy ending’.”

As I said this, I did exactly that just to show him.

“Why not, it feels great.”

Like a lamb to the slaughter!

Now I went down and started all over again on his right leg, working all the way up to his groin once more.

Then it was time for the magic moment.

“Now, turn over?”

He did so without complaint. There was a nice mound ikn the front of his jocks, but nothing rigid. I massaged both of his legs from the shins upwards, with both legs, finishing right up in his groin where I let the back of my hands push quite firmly against his balls, but not for any length of time, giving him no reason to complain. Then I quickly ran my hands over his chest, on the way to massaging his tight stomach. Once again I mentioned the masseur’s rule of not going lower than the pubic line. As I said this I ran my finger softly over the imaginary line at the top of his pubes.

“Why do they stop all of the good stuff?” the boy asked, in all innocence.

“In many cases, it does not stop there, particularly when they see that big bulge sitting up waiting to be played with.”

In so saying, I let my finger scoop just under the elastic band at the top of his jocks, just casually running it across his body. Whilst doing so I let my wrist push on his bulge as I passed over it, it twitched and I knew it was all about to happen.

“Imagine if you were lying naked on a massage table now, with a young Spanish masseuse leaning over you, her long black hair trailing down across your stomach, and she started to massage the monster?”

Which is exactly what I did, grabbing lightly. As the only sound coming from him was a slight murmur, I continued to stroke it, quite firmly now, until there was definitely no possibility of any misunderstanding. It was then a natural progression for me to slip my hand fully under the band and take hold of the flesh, it twitched again so I pulled his jocks down to his thighs and really got to work on it. I looked at Chris, his eyes were shut tight and his lips slightly open. I had no idea what he was dreaming of but felt sure that it included a girl doing something to him. So I did not want to disappoint him. I leaned lower and lower till my lips were only inches away, all the time watching his face for any sign of rejection, which I never saw. It was time for the magic moment, I took him in my mouth with a mighty gulp and I felt his body tremble all over.  I tried to do it as slowly and deeply as possible but it was obvious that he was on the edge and a monstrous explosion was imminent. So I let it happen, then cleaned him up afterward. Now fully awake, he acted as if nothing had happened, very straight-wise. Whether it had been the first time ever by a male or not, I would never know. But it was also obvious that in similar circumstances, it could happen again without the preamble or role-play being necessary.  I was certain that Pablo’s would still not be the place for him so I promised to find out from Juan. which was the hottest disco in town, and take him there tomorrow night.

Chris said that he wanted to do some shopping, so he dressed and left, seemingly as happy as can be.

*******

I  stayed on the bed till my breathing and pulse rate got back to normal then I also dressed, going down to have another coffee with Juan.

“Where is Chris?” he asked.

“Gone shopping. But tell me what is the hottest disco in town, one where I can take him tomorrow night, as he leaves the day after?”

“I rarely go to them but I guess Mimi’s is as good as any and it is only five minutes away. Though most are prostitutes, both the girls and the boys.”

“That will really shake him up, as he will not be able to afford them.” I said, with a smile.

I reminded Juan about our dinner date in two days' time, he assured me that he had not forgotten and was looking forward to it. He also said he needed another early night, tonight, so would give Pablo’s a miss.

At that stage, I honestly considered doing the same, but knew when night came I may well change my mind. 

I was not that keen on what lay ahead. It had been many years since I last had to go to a disco on the pretence of picking up a girl in the company of my straight mates. Hell, I do not even fancy dancing with one, or talking to for that matter. The things you have to do, when you fancy straight boys. Chris had slept back in his own room last night, as I was late home from Pablo’s, and a little bit tipsy after having been continually egged on by Domingo to ‘have one more?’  We even had another 2-minute interlude in the Gents. I invited him home after work but said he could not. I was not looking forward to the disco but wanted to give Chris the best time ever in Barcelona and knew that he would enjoy it. Still the music will be great, and there will be plenty of eye candy, even if I can not touch it! 

We arrived at Mimi’s, and could hear the music quite sometime before we got to the entrance, where there was a queue of young people waiting to enter. 

Not knowing what to do we walked up to the entrance and were immediately ushered inside, paid the exorbitant entry fee, and we were at Mimi’s. The place was almost in darkness, apart from the amazing light show that was happening overhead. The music was high quality but so loud, it reverberated through your body. Ahead were hundreds of bodies, in all modes of dress and undress, gyrating to the music. Just now it was ‘Rivers of Babylon’ from Bony M. We worked our way to the bar, and then with drinks in hand, found a small area where we could sit and watch the show. Chris was overawed, though I am certain that Dallas would have many such places. It was not long before Chris was eying off a young Spanish girl not far away, who appeared to be alone. I warned Chris of the possible consequences of approaching anyone who was with brothers, etc. However, he seemed undaunted and totally naive about it. Just hot to trot! I sensed possible danger but he eventually plucked up the courage to ask her for a dance. With no Spanish and the girl zero English, it was a fiasco. He returned red-faced and annoyed.  It was some time before he dared to ask another. I suggested that he just get up and dance on the floor with the mob which seemed to be the normal way of entering the throng. After a couple of drinks that is what he did and soon he was doing so without inhibition. He only returned to where I sat watching when he wanted a rest and another drink. By the look of him each time he came back he was sweating out each drink after five minutes on the floor.  He said many were trying to talk to him, but he never understood what they were saying. I must say he looked sensational on the floor, his blond hair flopping to the beat.  

After what seemed an eternity to me, Chris admitted failure and tiredness, all danced out! So we left, there was still a queue waiting to get in, not sure what that was all about? Strolling back down Las Ramblas we encountered many the worse for wear after too much to drink. We were probably not much better. I was glad to finally get Chris home safely. Inside he followed me into my room without question. I asked him if he wanted a shower but he declined, taking his clothes off in a hurry and sprawling on my bed. I joined him and we laid there with the cool air from the overhead fan wafting over us. I threw my right arm across his chest and he just murmured something and almost cuddled up to me. After that it was just slowly, slowly as if all was inevitable, which I guess it was. Not sure of it was the drink, of which we had had much, but he was quite affectionate and was a very willing playmate. Sometime after daybreak, we woke up and did it all again. It was midday before we were finally out of bed and went for our shower. All Chris could talk about was this girl, and that girl, who had really fancied him. I grabbed his cock with a soapy hand and said. 

“They just don’t know what they missed, do they?”

“Next time,” he replied, even though there would never be one as he was leaving Barcelona the next day on the next leg of his journey, France.

 We went across to Juan’s for a late brunch.

 “How was the disco?” asked Juan, of Chris.

 “He is upset because the girls could not speak English,” I answered for him.

  “ But they all fancied me.” said the cheeky boy, with a smile.

"What time do you finish tonight?"  I asked Juan.

"Eight o'çlock."  He answered.

"Well how about we take Chris to that Tapas place tonight, as it is his last night in Barcelona before the French girls of Nice get him."

"Why not!"

After a standard brunch, where Chris ordered breakfast and I ordered lunch, we returned to Fernando's. Chris had some more shopping to do, so I checked my laptop then went back to bed. well, on the bed. 

*******

Chris returned to my room at six, and we just lounged around, waiting for Juan's knock-off time.

"So you are flying back to the States from Heathrow. When will you get there and how long do you have in London?"

" I get there the 25th of next month and fly out the 31st."

" Fantastic! Then you must stay at my house in London so I can show you around. Don.t book any accommodation, I assure you that my place will suit you fine, a swimming pool, bar and a BBQ; what more could you want? Let me know your arrival details and I will pick you up at the airport."

"You mean I can stay at your place, that is wonderful, I am sure to be out of money by then."

"No problem, I look forward to it. If you do have any money problems in the meantime you must let me know so I can help you, OK?"

"You are very kind, David. It was a lucky day for me when we shared that shower."

"And for me, too," I admitted, too scared to say any more.

At 7.30 we went back to Juan's for another coffee and to await his finish.

All three of us strolled down the lane to Tapas Nacional. Inside we sat at the bar and ordered our drinks. As it was his last night in Spain, we insisted that Chris should drink Cuba Libres. Reluctant at first, he soon got the taste and was eager for a second, although he did suggest that maybe a Jack and Coke could be better.

Then it was time to study the Tapas Menu. Strange it was with all the items linked to different countries. So we started with an English one, Sausage, and Bacon. When they arrived, a sausage had been chopped into one-inch segments which were wrapped with a thin strip of bacon and deep-fried to make the bacon crisp, They were each held together with a handy toothpick, which made them easy to pick up and eat. Next on our list was a Japanese Yakitori, pieces of chicken on a skewer covered in a sticky, tasty teriyaki sauce. The boys were loving it, and so was i. Calamari from Italy as well as slices of melon wrapped in prosciutto, Meatballs from Denmark, and Bitterbalen from Holland all followed. The boys then made one blind choice each, from the menu but neither one was memorable. Then I ordered a plate of Texan BBQ Spare Ribs, much to Chris's delight, we devoured them, sticky fingers and all.

Juan and I decided that the risk was worth it and we took Chris to Pablo's. At least it would give him something to talk about back home.

Chris loved Pablo's and Pablo's loved Chris. He did not even mind when Pablo wolf-whistled him on his entrance. He was soon dancing alone on the small dance floor, without inhibition, watched with lust in their eyes, by almost everyone.

All he could say, was, "Why didn't you bring me here before?"

After too many drinks, we departed. At the entrance to Fernando's, it was the only time that I hoped Juan would not ask to stay over, though I had just about given up hope that it would ever happen anyway.

We said goodnight to Juan, and Chris followed me up the stairs, and once again into my room, no invitation necessary. Inside it was the same all over again, I stripped off and Chris followed suit. Neither of us wanted a late-night shower so we just dropped onto the bed, me on the right and Chris on the left. After a few seconds of inaction, we rolled together to face each other, my arm went over him and he put his across me and gave me a hug.

"I think this has been one of the best weeks of my life. I wish you were coming with me to France, Italy, and Greece."

"Believe me, I wish I was too, but I must go back to London, many things to do. Anyway, we will have a fantastic week in London together, when you get there, I promise you."

That earned me another big hug and it all started to happen again. I let my loose hand drop down to caress his rapidly firming cock and he surprised me in doing the same to me. Then it began to get more frantic, as jocks got ripped off and the serious stuff began. He really was one very horny young Texan boy, and I began to think that he had been this way before, either that or he was just naturally sex-obsessed. Either way, there were no complaints from me. 

10.0 - Goodbye Chris.

I had booked Chris onto a bus for the journey to Nice, not wanting him to be picked up by predatory drivers if he hitch-hiked, although he was definitely sex-willing he was also quite naive. I also gave him a few hundred US dollars I had in my wallet as backup money. It was breakfast at Juan's. but without Juan, as he was not due to start till late morning, Then, it was time for us to walk to the bus station. As we said goodbye, Chris started to get a bit teary which had a follow-on effect on me so I knew that we had to cut it short before I made a complete fool of myself. I could not recall any boy having made such an immediate effect on me before, except my Timmy of course.

After I watched the bus pull out, the boy waving frantically at the window, I went back to Juan''s for a coffee, as it was now past his starting time.

"The French girls do not know what is about to hit them," I said to Juan.

"A Texan bull, perhaps?" he answered, with a smile.

I wonder?

I was at a loss to know what to do next, I miss him already. We had just fallen into a routine that seemed natural, being in sync together, which was strange as we had so little in common other than obviously enjoying, and feeling relaxed, with each other's company. I was looking forward to his London arrival, him gushing, like a little boy,  about his adventures in France, Italy, and Greece. I just hope that there are not too many disasters aking the way? Maybe he will just take them in his stride? 

11.0 – Dinner with Juan.

It was time for our seafood dinner. I had found a large place, Ciro's, overlooking the harbour, which always looked sensational at night. As it was an expense no spared night we chose the Seafood Banquet, it promised to be yet another exploration of the world's seafood dishes. That must be a Barcelona thing right now?

Tonight we drank a bottle of white wine from Rioja, recommended by the waiter, and very good it was too. I had thought that only red wines were made there, you live and learn.

Our 1st course was a simple Shrimp Cocktail from the U.S.A. I explained to Juan.

"Americans call prawns shrimps, in the rest of the world shrimps are like very small prawns."

We were presented with two large wine glasses packed with shredded lettuce topped with a large blob of cocktail sauce,. 1000 Islands, Around the rim, were four large shelled and de-veined prawns with just their tails intact for easy holding to eat. Dunking the prawns in the sauce before eating Juan was impressed from the very first course.

Course number two was, supposedly, from Belgium, Coquilles Saint Jacques. We both had one large scallop in its half shell, in front of us. 

Next was from Portugal, Shovel-nosed Lobster in Pernod. I explained to Juan.

"In Australia, we call them bugs, a strange crustacean, the shape of your hand but with meat so sweet.

First taste and Juan was ecstatic,

"Wow." was all he could say.

Next was a Vietnamese Bao, small soft half-moon buns this time stuffed with smoked eel.

"I am eating dishes I would never choose on a menu, but all are fantastic." said an amazed Juan.

The first bottle of wine was now finished so a second was ordered.

Now was the time for a range of different fish, first was Dover Sole from England, Deep Sea Bass from Canada, and one that had Juan stumped, Pacific Salmon from Japan, it was the pile of green beside the salmon that intrigued Juan.

"Deep-fried seaweed," I explained.

A tentative first taste, a larger one, then a big smile. I was so pleased that tonight was becoming a journey of discovery for Juan, rather than just a meal.

Now a cold dish, attributed to Holland, Mud Crab claw with a Dijon Vinaigrette for dunking. Perfect!.

Our final dish was, of course from France, small half Lobsters drizzled with cognac and flamed at the table.

After paying a whopping bill, two very full and slightly drunk boys departed Ciro's, to have a final drink at Pablo's.

Whilst I went to my usual spot opposite a smiling Domingo, Juan was locked in a long conversation with Pablo no doubt describing all he had eaten. When he joined me he said.

"Pablo says all our drinks are on him, tonight!"

"No way," I replied."One is OK!"

Our first drinks came and we raised our glasses to salute Pablo, he smiled in return"

When they were finished, I went over to Pablo.

"Pablo, thank you for your very kind hospitality, you have made my stay very enjoyable. But I can only accept one free drink from you, as now I want to buy a bottle of champagne. I checked last night with Domingo and you carry my favorite in stock, Bollinger. You will join us, and I must ask a very big favor for one night can you forget your house rules and let Domingo join us with a glass, he has been fantastic the way he has looked after us.

Pablo smiled in agreeance and tried to hug me but I escaped.

Back at the bar, I informed Domingo and he prepared one bottle of very cold Bollinger, as I had warned him last night, and four champagne flutes. He then carefully opened and poured the champers without any overflow, although the cork popping caused everyone to look, and more giggles from the ladyboys. Juan took Pablo's glass over to him but he could not escape the ensuing hug.

Juan and Domingo sipped their champagne, not really sure if they liked it or not, particularly with the bubbles going up their noses, but happy to join in the ritual. Pablo raised his glass to us and sipped it in exaggerated bliss, with his little finger cocked high in a mock ladylike fashion.

It was nearing the end of a fairytale night, and my 3 week holiday was also nearing completion, there were only a few more days to go. As a diversion from the drama in London, it had been a major success. For now, it was time to say goodnight. We said goodbye to Domingo and Pablo who gave his usual final wish for me to 'look after the boy', not a real problem. I wonder if he thinks we are sleeping together? Some things dreams are made of, but I always lived in hope!

We left Pablo''s and stopped, as usual, in front of my entrance, where we shook hands or rather held hands. I felt Juan hesitate, he said.

"Thank you for the most wonderful night, David."

" I wish we will have many more, my friend."

For the briefest of moments I thought he was going to ask me if he could stay, but no such luck.

"See you tomorrow." was what he said instead.

12.0 - Final Days.

My last days were spent trying to get as much of Juan as possible, we scrammed a few late dinners and even one early lunch into his crowded schedule, with many nights drinking at Pablo's. I took him to Marrakech, for another milestone in his culinary development, to an interesting Vietnamese restaurant, but it was a Japanese Tepanyaki restaurant, with all the theatrics that amazed him most.

One late morning sleep-in was happily disturbed by an unexpected visit from the horny Domingo, for a pleasant and quite frantic hour.

Another day provided yet another shower experience though nothing as sensational as the Chris from Texas one. You only get one like that in a lifetime. No, this one was just a case of mutual physical release. He was young, early 20's, not a teen. A German tourist, well built, blond and horny. We had been discreetly eying each other up in the shower for a few minutes and were gradually creeping closer to each other in adjoining showers. Then we inevitably touched slightly, followed by more deliberate touching. He reacted first, going into an elaborate soaping of his genitals which resulted at the beginning of an erection. I quickly followed suit, on open display,

We reached for each other almost simultaneously. Soapy hands made short work of the job in hand.

As I said, just physical relief, 50% better than doing it yourself.

As often happens in the gay world of anonymous sex, not one word had been spoken, with my zero German we probably could not have communicated anyway?

11.0 – Final Night

Juan had organized his schedule so as to finish at the unusual hour of 6.00, so we could return to Ciro's one more time. After that, it was another champagne night at Pablo's where he embarrassed me by giving me a Spanish hand-made leather wallet as a present. The place had become cemented in as my Barcelona base for all future visits. We drank too much and Domingo was getting teary-eyed, even though I assured him that I would be back the month after next.

Eventually, it was time to go whilst we could still stand up and walk. Another farewell with Pablo again telling me to look after the boy, he was not stupid, he knew I was hooked. Back on the street, we stumbled along to my hotel entrance where we hesitated. I put out my hand, as usual, and he shocked me.

"I want to be here early in the morning to say goodbye, so is it OK if I stay overnight with you?"

I tried to look as if all was normal but my heart was thumping. I agreed as a matter of course as if it was no big deal, and we both entered together for the very first time. There was no visible shock from Juan when we got into the room and he saw the sole double bed, I tried t act as if we did this all the time, as I began stripping off, after turning the overhead up to its max setting. I used one of the chairs t hang my clothes over and motioned to the other one for Juan. I was freaking out but Juan seemed all cool, calm, and collected. When we were down to just our small jocks, I pulled the clothes back to just show the bottom sheet, as it was still quite hot inside. I pointed to the left side for Juan and he took it, with me on the right-hand side. We were lying facing each other, a few inches apart. I had to make contact so I placed my right hand on his hip in a friendly manner, not sexual, but he then shocked me again by extending his left arm so it draped over my waist. I wanted to draw him closer but dared not.

Total silence, apart from the thumping in my chest.

"David, I have something to admit to you, I am very sorry. I have been wanting t stay here with you for some time, I am really half and half, but I desperately want to remain as the straight boy at work and at Pablo's, and was too scared. That night we first went to dinner at Ciro's, I almost gave in. That night at home I almost cried on my pillow telling myself that I was too stupid, but I always had it planned for tonight, please don't be angry with me?"

We hugged together till we almost squashed each

"Juan, I could never be angry with you. I was satisfied for us to just be special friends, but now we are now going to be super special friends."

My hand was exploring his back, and his, mine. Soon our hands changed to inside and the fondling began. For me the adrenaline was overflowing, I was in heaven. There was no frantic rush, we had all night. It was as if I was in a dream, surreal, looking down from above, watching, all in slow motion.

We kissed, hugged, and explored each other's bodies. Whenever sleep took over we awoke a little time later and continued. My alarm went off at 7.00 as my plane was to depart for Gatwick at 12.00, and I had to be at the airport by 10.00 to check-in.

We looked at each other and smiled, what a finish to my three weeks. We were still tired but wide awake, we hugged again for a few minutes but then I had to get up so we both went down to the bathroom for a shower. For the first time here, I pleaded for an empty bathroom. My Juan was too special to share with anyone else.

We soaped each other and played a bit but without any intent. Back in the room we dressed in silence, Being an experienced traveler, I packed in minutes, and it was time for a quick breakfast, which for the first time for me was not to be at Juan's cafe as that would create too many questions, but there was no shortage of alternatives.  

12.0 - Goodbye.

Juan hailed a taxi for me, so any long-winded goodbyes were impossible. Just as well as soon as the taxi pulled away with me in the back seat, I felt my eyes watering.

Check-in and boarding at the airport were robotic, I was on auto-pilot.

It was not till the plane had cleared the first part of its takeoff and I had a cold glass of Whiskey and soda in my hand, that I started to relax and reminisce, what an incredible three weeks I had just experienced. The three most adorable boys that you could imagine, and I could call all of them friends. Two of them were due to visit me in the coming months, the other anxiously awaiting my imminent return to Barcelona.

I was still facing a difficult time back in London, living with memories. I had decided to give Gary the opportunity to come and take over Tim's job with me. I believe that would be the most perfect therapy for both of us.

As they say, tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life!