After arriving in Barcelona, to my beautiful apartment in Eixample, I was excited. Excited to see the city, visit the beach, taste the food, but mainly, taste the men. After a few days at my new place, a cute local boy offered to come over and make me food at my place. He introduced me to gazpacho for the first time, and after the first few mouthfuls, I grew to like this cold, tomato juice, soup, although I did insist that I think it’d be better with some vodka thrown in. After food we were cleaning in the kitchen when my Airbnb host came home. She seemed very cool when I spent some time with her on the first few nights, and so I had no qualms about bringing somebody over. She was very polite, but decided to go to bed early. My new local Catalonian boy and I decided to watch a movie, then he grabbed his motorbike helmet and went home at around 11pm.
The following day I got up and went for coffee. It’s one of the things that always gets me out of bed in the morning, going outside and grabbing a local iced coffee. After grabbing my €4 sweet milk coffee, I get a WhatsApp message from my Airbnb host outlining that I cannot have guests over whatsoever. She apologised that she didn’t make it clear when advertising the place, but said that I was welcome to find somewhere else to stay if it was an inconvenience. Well, to be quite frank, I was a little pissed. I’d spent a small fortune for this apartment in Barcelona, and I wasn’t even allowed someone over for a drink? Or dinner? I understand nobody staying the night, but it seems bizarre to ban someone from socialising in their own home, especially in a country where this sort of socialising is very common behaviour. However, I wasn’t about to make myself homeless and start looking for somewhere else to live, so I apologised and said it wouldn’t happen again.
A few weeks later it’s winding down to my departure. I’d booked to go to Madrid and my Barcelona trip was coming to an end. One hot Friday afternoon, while sat at home, I felt particularly horny, so I opened up the old faithful, Grindr, and had a look what was on offer. My host worked full time so I was home alone and feeling like the world was my oyster. There was a guy online who I’d hooked up with a few weeks earlier, and he was available and also horny. He told me he hadn’t shot his load for about 5 days, and so that had me at full mast. He was only around the corner, and I said I could host. He could be there in 10mins, but it was more like 5. I left the door open and waited on the bed for him, naked. He got undressed in my hall, and walked in, also naked. He had a beautiful dick. He walked over to me and I started sucking. His dick was the perfect size, a husband dick, the kind you could take every night. I wasn’t in the mood for anal, but he turned me around and ate me out anyway. It got him super horny, and it wasn’t long before he turned me around, and as I was sucking him, he blew his load all over my face. He stepped back, out of breath, and in broken English asked if he could use the bathroom. I nodded and pointed to the hall. As he went to the bathroom, I finished myself off, with his cum still over my face. The smell is usually enough to make me want to blow. I came into my hand and then grabbed some tissue to clean it up. He had put most of his clothes back on, and walked back into my room to get his watch. As he stepped back into my room, while I’m wiping his cum off my face, the front door creaks open and I hear my Airbnb host say ‘hello?!’. I absolutely freak. I ran to my bedroom door, slammed it shut and locked the inside bolt. Omg omg omg omg omg omg omg is what I repeated to myself about a million times over. I turned around and the boy I just blew is sat on my bed with a face of pure horror. Immediately it made me laugh, I couldn’t help but think about how tragic the situation was. We were both now locked in my bedroom, panicking. I asked him where his stuff was and he said his shoes, jacket, and bag were all in the hall. I was trying to come up with a million different excuses and attempting to pick the best one to get me out of this mess. I was now getting panic dressed, in front of this boy who was asking me what to do while nervously pacing around my room. I kept saying to him that it was fine, and that I would just say that he was a friend of mine and we were just popping back home to pick something up before going out again. It was at that point I leant forward and said, ‘what’s your name??!!!?’ I couldn’t stop laughing, and the fact he looked so nervous made the whole thing even funnier. I waited for the apartment to go quiet, which would hopefully mean she’d disappeared into her room, so that we could make an escape. He was ready, I was now dressed. I told him to just grab his stuff in the hall, and we both leave together. I opened the bedroom door and we made a run for it. I opened the front door, he grabbed his stuff, I closed the door behind me, and then he finished getting dressed in the stairwell. ‘You are a disaster’ he said to me in a thick Spanish accent while shaking his head. I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. As we left the building, before we said goodbye, I asked him if I had any cum left on my face before I went out. He giggled and shook his head. As funny as I found the whole thing, my nerves were shot to pieces so I went and grabbed a coffee, but to be honest I really needed a neat whiskey. I had dried cum tissue stuck all over my hand which I spent the walk to the coffee shop trying to pick off, bit by bit, and then after I immediately called my best friend to tell him all about it. It was only in hindsight that it occurred to me that the boy didn’t know who had actually come home. Maybe the reason he looked so panicked was because he thought maybe it was my boyfriend, and he was about to get beat. This made me laugh even more. It was like one of those scenes in a comedy film that you never believe would actually happen.
Oh, and his name was Sergio. Thank you Sergio, for a great facial, and a very funny afternoon.