tagIncest/TabooThe Pain in Spain Stays Mainly in the Butt

The Pain in Spain Stays Mainly in the Butt


All persons in this story are over 18 years of age and all sex is consensual. I have translated dialog that may have been in Italian or French to make it easier for the reader.



[College students meet on the road to Spain and share intimacies]

I was young, my hormones were eating up my nights, I was studying at the John Hopkins School of Diplomacy in Bologna, Italy. The course of study was two years and would earn me a Master's Degree. I expected to become part of the Diplomatic Corps.

The first five years of work for the State Department are a trial period, but if you make through you are pretty much guaranteed life long employment and the chance of being stationed at any one of the many countries that have US Consulates or Embassies.

Now you might think you have to become part Italian if you go to school here, but no, the school is a little island of America and some of the girls are not only foxy and promiscuous, as befits a diplomate, but willing to drop their panties after a whiskey or two. But I was after bigger game, I didn't know what lay before me when I set out that cool morning but I hadn't masturbated for a week and I was charged and ready to go.

So now it was vacation time, a two and a half week hiatus from the rigors of American History and Diplomacy. Boy, was I glad to leave that all that behind. There I was, happy as a lark in a meadow, driving my VW Camper into Spain in the Easter of 2004, looking forward to seeing the Easter Festivities that converge the entire country into these traditions.

It was an older used model VW camper, or call it a bus or van. I'd bought it from one of the guys I knew who had graduated a few months ago and was returning to the states.

After I bought the VW, I had given the bus a thorough overhaul, replaced the balding front tires, added new platinum tipped spark plugs and repaired the windshield spritzer that had blocked up for who knows how long ago.

I'd plugged four ceiling holes where a rusty roof rack once was attached. I added a little black corking to the front window where time and wind had worn it thin, but the rest of the van was in pretty good shape. The engine, according to Marcello, my mechanic, had at least another 50000 miles before we'd have trouble with it.

I'd painted up the two front doors where scrapes and scratches had brutalized them. I was able to find a matching can of spray paint and my refinishing efforts were rewarded. It didn't look new but it looked pretty good. The muffler was pierced and noisy but a welder nearby was able to repair it for only $20.

So, as I said, I was on my way to Barcelona. Then I planned to go further south to Alicante, and then back across the desert to Madrid. Spain is noted for it Easter festivities, its street parades and celebrations.

I had hardly started my trip when I passed three French college girls hitchhiking just past the French border. They were holding out their thumbs and looked delightful in their white short shorts and colorful blouses.

How could I resist? I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped about a hundred feet past them. I watched in the side view mirror as they ran towards me carrying their small bags and purses.

The first one into the bus was Coco, with her bright smile and languid eyes, who spoke enough English to tell me excitedly that they were on a school vacation and going as far south as they could, hoping to see the Easter pageantry.

"I'm going the same route, come along, we'll have fun," I said.

As Coco climbed in I was treated to a gander at her full sharply breasts visible as the bright sun turned her silk blouse transparent.

As the car idled on the dirt, off to the side of the road, we waited for the other two girls who arrived about thirty-seconds later, all smiles and chattering away. Although my French wasn't very good, the girls spoke some English and Italian so we managed to communicate. All three were students. They had hardly any money, but they did have short shorts and great tits, and to a young man like myself those things were golden.

The two girls carrying their bags, climbed into the bus and chose the rear seats in the middle of the van. The rear of the bus was filled with camping gear I hope to use if I got to the seashore. Coco sat next to me and the long legged Gabriella and more petite Laura right behind. The road was filled with tourists going south and the industrial traffic, mostly large trucks, headed in the opposite direction, north to the French border.

We introduced ourselves, I said my name was Dave and anyone could see just by looking that I was a twenty something American. My uniform was blue jeans and a white t-shirt with an Irish knit wool sweater for cold days. Sometimes I'd wear an oversized tan military jacket I'd found in a swap meet.

I was at home with the common folk, nothing snobby, ready to repair or make do with whatever life sent my way. I was educated but I kept that hidden unless questioned and then I could show familiarity with historical information or literary references.

I was in my prime, 5'10, lightly muscled with brown hair that as we got closer to the sea with its concomitant humidity would curl like a 1940s movie star. I didn't like to shave every day, I put it off when possible. The girls , when we became more familiar would ask or insinuate that I had had my nose crafted in some skilled plastic surgeons office but that was bogus.

If I really cared about my appearance I would have paid attention to my orthodontist's directions, which I didn't and my teeth were never properly aligned. My left knee, never quite recovered from a teenage motorcycle accident and sometimes left me with a slight limp that at other times miraculously disappeared.

Let me describe the three of them. If I close my eyes I can still see them as they were in their innocence on that warm April day.

I was most taken by Coco. I think I fell in love with her at the instant she climbed into the van. She was very fem, med to large C cup breasts, slender waist , full bubble butt ass, probably 5'6", There was a bit of tush pushing out from under her tight shorts and her belly was bare. She was wearing those straw sandals, Espadrilles, whose ties wrapped around her shapely legs and stopped just below the knee where they were tied. She had a graceful lovely walk that made her tits sway hypnotically.

Her long eyelashes, you'd assume were fake but when eyelashes don't fall off when you are making love you are willing to give them a shadow of a doubt. I was never quite sure but I'd guess they were real. There definitely was a sensuous quality about her face, it was almost childlike with that extra baby flesh that added a touch of fullness. I was entranced by her, I found her a very desirable woman.

Laura, was the shorter of the three, about 5 foot 1 inch, light coppery blonde hair cut in a 'casco style' (helmet), round cheeks, a slight overbite that if you were sophisticated you'd know that was a plus in a cock sucker. Looking up from under her stylish hair were two large blue eyes, bright blue like the dawning of a summer day when the dew in the air makes everything shine. Her small to medium breasts, probably a B cup, were perky and her nipples showed through the tight fabric.

Her waist was wider than perfection but her plump round ass looked promising. Her blouse was white cotton and she had tied the bottom sides together so they bunched up below her breasts revealing her pale white belly. Her feet were tiny, perhaps a size five or six and the open toed sandals revealed tiny perfect toes with pink nail polish. I don't think I'd ever paid attention to a woman's feet but hers were exquisite.

Gabriella was taller, of medium height, good size C cup breasts, reddish brown hair, full freckled face, lovely smile and a boyish quality to her walk and a bit of aggressiveness. Her hazel eyes seemed to change color with her moods. Sometimes they seemed tender and sensitive other times cruel and harsh. You never knew if she liked you or disliked you or perhaps didn't care if you were alive or dead.

Gabby, as we often called her, had muscular legs. She said she was a bicyclist. Her buttocks, which I could see in the rear view mirror as she turned to call to the others, were muscular and nicely curved. She had a slightly masculine look to her, her lips curled like a wicked Elvis and her hair was cut short and slicked down.

As soon as she was seated she asked if she might smoke and a Gauloise cigarette was soon held tightly in her lips as her face disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh God Gabby, open the window, you'll asphyxiate us," said Coco.

We drove on for a few hours. The narrow roads were crowded in some places which made going difficult and sow and then we'd pass small villages where the traffic would break and it was easy sailing. The girls on occasion would break into song or accompany the old Becker radio on the dashboard that still worked well.

As most of the roads were only two lanes, every so often we'd have to pick up speed on a downgrade to pass the tandem trucks that had a small stop light attached to the rear of their bodies that would signal red as a warning not to pass or green to pass when the road was clear.

In a few hours we were on the outskirts of Barcelona. As the sun began to dim we thought it best to start to look for a place to spend the night. Coco opened her Michelin Guide, leafed through it and found a country inn where we might stay. It was a few kilometers away on the main road that we were soon to pass. Then Laura spotted it and I pulled the VW over into their gravel parking lot.

The Inn was called 'Las Lunas.' In front of the inn hung a shield shaped sign painted with the image of a plump naked girl with big breasts and a large ripe ass looking up at the moon. We all laughed when we saw that and Gabriella said,

"It looks ok, why don't we check it out?"

We walked into the dark entrance foyer but there was no-one there. Moments later, hearing our footsteps, a women in a red plaid apron came running out of the back kitchen and greeted us. It looked like a nice place. The rooms were upstairs above a small restaurant. I asked for a small single room and the three girls opted for a double. The price was quite reasonable.

"Wait a moment and I'll get Edgar to help the ladies with their bags."

A small gnome of a man, bent over with age, with a grey wispy beard appeared and somehow managed to gathered up the bags and carry them up the rickety wooden staircase.

Not wanting to impose on him I carried my own small grey suitcase with a strap around it up the stairs to room #2 at the top of the staircase. There was a bathroom in the hall to the right, adjacent to the room. Inside the room there was a small sink where I washed the dust from my eyes but my eyes insisted that they wanted to stay closed.

I took off my clothes and lay naked on the bed. The room was still warm from the sun that filtered into through the window. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, the vibration of the past hour's road trip still filling my ears.

I awoke with a start, someone was knocking on the door. Then the door opened. I must have forgotten to lock it. In came Coco.

"Oh excuse me, pardon."

I looked up, it was obvious that my nudity didn't disturb her, in fact it drew her closer. She came right in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Mon Cherie, so much driving, you must be tired."

She put her hand on my thigh. I looked up at her through half closed eyes. I could feel her long thin graceful fingers move like a spider up my leg right to my cock, which she gave a quick squeeze before pulling away.

"Oh, you are sleepy?"


"You come down stairs, we eat together. We buy you dinner. D'accord?"

"Ok, that's nice."

For some reason she began to unbuttoned her blouse. I could see the outline of her right breast that with each unbuttoning became more visible. It must have been a test.

My cock sprang up in action. She noticed immediately.

"Oh, so you like girls, don't you. Oh, that's good."

She slid her hand onto the shaft of my erect cock and squeezed once more but more tightly than before.

"Come now, get dressed. We go downstairs to eat."

She smiled, put her fingers to her lips and tenderly kissed them and then patted my erection as if it were a small dog, arose from the bed and walked quickly to the door. She opened it and then closed it. She was gone. I was left sitting there on the bed, all alone, a single tear of pre-cum balanced on my erect cock's head, that sybolic of many lost opportunities quickly ran down the side of my shaft.

I used a small hand towel to wash the dust and grime from my face, splashed a bit of water on my private area in the small sink and rubbed the small bar of soap in the towel to freshen my cock and balls just in case. Of course I had hopes that a fantasy threesome might just work out.

I dressed, a leather jacket I kept in my suitcase, t-shirt, boots and went down to eat.

The three girls were seated at a small table near the stage. The 4th chair was for me.

As I sat at the table my knees touched the girls knees, not purposefully but because we were seated so closely together. But then I could feel hands reaching under the table, quite purposely poking me, then the pokes turned into caresses and I actually got quite hard from their attention although I wasn't quite sure who was doing what.

The house wine was a strong red Rioja that went well with the paella filled with hot sausage, shellfish and chicken. The rice had a nutty salty taste and a texture almost like mashed potatoes. We drank freely of the large carafe and had it refilled three times before the rolling desert tray with flans and pastries were brought to the table.

Next came black espresso coffee and a house offering of a snifter glass of Cardenal Mendoza di Juarez Brandy, sweet and smooth. We sipped it slowly and the rich brandy warmed the heart. We were all quite intoxicated before the unexpected entertainment began.

As we were finishing the lights went on over the small stage, which up until then we had hardly noticed, and then a good-looking tall man with long dark shoulder length shiny hair and a distinctive mustache stepped up to the microphone and announced

"Las Lunas' has the honor of hosting a Gypsy Flamenco guitar and dance number this very night."

He pointed to the side of the stage and said in Spanish,

"We welcome the 'Gypsy Duo"

The girls were giddy and obviously impressed with the good looks of the MC. Then a tall equally handsome guitarist with long fingers stepped onto the small stage not far from our table. The guitar was larger than the standard Spanish Flamenco. It was a classical six string jumbo acoustic whose front was enlivened with an intricate ivory inlay of a female flamenco dancer being bent back in the arms of her companion who molds her body to his as he embraces and kisses her.

The musician played with a dramatic flourish the melodic composition of the famous and familiar, 'Malaguena.' A silver ring with a red stone sparked from his right as he strummed his guitar.

As he came to the conclusion of his rendition, a female dancer appeared from a curtain behind the stage and began dancing an erotic flamingo with accompanying staccato foot stamping that is a Gypsy traditional. Her face was covered with a black lace vale and her graceful and passionate movements were that of a young women, but as she danced the veil slowly fell from her face and it became obvious that she was older than one would have imagined.

The dance number lasted for a short while but long enough that the foot stomping echoed through your mind even minutes after both participants had embraced and left the stage arm in arm.

Then, as if anticlimactic, the MC reappeared and announced that the entertainment was over . We and the few other guests finished up and rose to return to our rooms.

Coco who had been so familiar with me several hours ago rose from the table and without ever saying goodbye disappeared behind the stage curtain. I assumed she was going to congratulate the gypsy performers.

In the meantime, Gabriella took my hand and squeezed one finger tightly making me recall what Coco had been squeezing upstairs in my bedroom before dinner. I had no doubts that Coco had recounted the incident and the news that I wasn't gay. As we exited the dining room Laura took my other hand and held it to her chest, I could feel her turgid nipple in the center of her halter top.

When we arrived at the staircase to the upper level rooms they continued to hold on to me and I realized, as Gabriella fumbled with the key, that they were bringing me with them into their bedroom.

Meanwhile, none of us knew that Coco was downstairs seated at the small dark wooden table drinking with Lavinia and Vano, the two gypsy entertainers.

The morning arrived with an explosion of bright light filling my room. Laura knocked at my door and told me they were ready to go. They had asked the restaurant to pack a picnic lunch for us. I brushed my teeth and struggled to shave in the tiny sink that seemed to only run cold water.

I packed my few belonging, and carried them in my suitcase down the stairs. The girls were there and Coco arrived soon after, the little gnome was helping her with her suitcase. The girls climbed in followed by Coco. The Gnome passed the suitcase up and the girls put it in the back. The Gnome took Coco's hand and kissed it goodbye and we were off. I drove for a few hours, stopping for coffee and then getting back on the road.

Around twelve we stopped in a rest stop camping area and had a lovely lunch. We bought some cold drinks at a small refreshment stand. We were all a bit tired but the cold chicken sandwiches were a nice snack and the sugary drinks woke us up.

"Are we ready to go? " I asked.

We climbed into the bus and I started to drive south to Alicante. The road was filled with tourists and I was glad we'd gotten an early start. As I drove on Coco, who was sometime too long on details, stood up in the Van holding onto the edge of the bench seat, I was driving but I could see her in the rear view mirror as she faced the her two friends in the back seats.

"So," said Laura," you disappeared after dinner, what went on?"

"Oh Dio mio, how can I even tell such a tale. Your ears are too tender."

"Please Coco," said Laura, " let us hear what happened."

And so Coco began by saying,

"The tall guitarist introduced himself to me as 'Vano.' To my surprise he turned out to be the son of the female dancer. This became all the more evident when he introduced her as 'Lavinia,' but as the conversation wore on he began to refer to her as 'Mama' and she to him as 'Mi hijo' ( my son.)They invited me to join them in drinking a bottle of tawny port. It was one of those big bottles covered with brown hemp twine".

Vano remarked smiling at me, "This wine is well aged, for many years, look my dear, the color has even changed."

"He was right about that, it was a fortified wine that opened up on my tongue to reveal a strange muted taste. This wine fooled me as it tasted less alcoholic to the tongue but it was quite strong. When he poured it into the glass it was a dark honey brown color. I thought it tasted more of prune juice than of grape, which surprised me."

"On the other hand," she continued her discourse to the three of us," I've tasted Slivovitz, which is a fermentation of the prune. It is a clear liquid but it does not taste of prune, instead the better qualities taste more like a perfume. Why the Port tasted like that I don't know."

"By the time we had consumed the 2 liter bottle of Port wine, I began to feel a little dizzy and for a few moments when I attempted to stand, the room began to rotate around me. I realized I was not the only one, were all quite high. Naturally after all that drinking, once I was steady on my feet I was glad to use the bathroom to pee and evacuate. Vano's mother accompanied me in order to empty her bladder that she said was near bursting under her tight dance outfit."

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