Here’s a short story about my very very short sexcapade in Spain.
I went to a club, against my better judgement, with a friend one night and I found who I thought would be the perfect man to end my drought. I’d been in Spain for seven months and I hadn’t slept with a soul y’all! I had a few reasons for keeping my goodies to myself, the main reason being that Spanish men just didn’t turn me on sexually. I like tall and muscular men who are a little aggressive (but not pesty) when it comes getting the woman that they want; the exact opposite of the Spanish men I’d encountered in that capacity. Then there’s the man who I was willing to risk it all for. The tall Moroccan bouncer who let me know he wanted me the minute I stepped in front of him. First I saw his arms, then his stance but the icing on the cake was realizing his he wasn’t a native Spanish speaker. He was from Casablanca, like French Montana. I was hooked. But I behaved and went home alone.
The next day he wasted no time, inviting me to dinner in the lounge of a nice hotel in Madrid. If that location sounds like a set up to you then you’re going to keep up with my stories very well. It was a setup but I’m not a rookie, so when I accepted his invitation I knew what I was doing and I looked forward to it.
I was ready for this night! I went to the market and bought the ripest pineapple on the stand as well as a juicy mango which were my breakfast and lunch. I drank plenty of water throughout the day for extra security and balance and when it was time to do my makeup I made sure I was all the way in tact. My homegirls have never had a better day of vicariously living through me.
The agreement was that I’d take a cab there and back, which he’d reimburse me for it at dinner, so I did that. The hotel was actually really cute and fancy y’all, and I got there just as he finished paying for a room side eye. That’s how quick this turned into a hoe story for me and now for you reading this. I ducked off into the restroom to gather/ pep talk myself before I dove into this, luckily I’d had a couple glasses of wine before I left home so I wasn’t too flustered. It was all good and this tall Moroccan man was about to rock my world.
Did I mention he spoke no English? Like… none and I wasn’t in the mood for all the brain work that speaking Spanish came with so I ordered a gin tonic, a small plate and then another gin tonic. As we headed upstairs three things were running through my mind:
- Damn, is this a 5-star hotel?
- Wow, I’m really on some high-class hoe shit…
- I swear this better be the best dick of my life.
Thoughts 1 and 2 were accurate. As for thought number 3, well, he lasted 90 seconds. I wish I’d started a timer, screenshot it and posted it with this story to prove I’m not being dramatic; but I didn’t so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Here’s how it went down. He was a kisser so I entertained it for a few seconds before I undid his pants and reached for… what I came for. He pulled it out and after squinting and looking high and low for the rest of it, I knew for sure that he was about to waste my time. The first minute or so was missionary, then I got tired of laying on my back and having nothing happen to me, so I got on top. I did the bare minimum for maybe 15 seconds then watched, in disgust of course, this man have the orgasm of his life. I’m not sure if it was the look on my face or if he came to the realization that he’s a sorry excuse for a one night stand, but when he came down from his high he attempted to eat me out. Get the fuck out of here, literally.
My feelings were so hurt, I actually wanted to cry y’all. I held back tears just now as I relived it. How could he be so tall and muscular and aggressive and set this whole shindig up then give me the most boring minute and a half of my life? Where was the rest of his penis? Did he leave it at home with his manhood?
He went to the bathroom to clean up and I debated on dashing while he was gone, but I waited. I freshened up and as we headed to the lobby together I decided I should block his number because there was nothing more he could ever say to me. Of course, I had to report to my homegirls on these events, or lack thereof, so I jumped on that as he checked out of the room. I sent a few messages and by the time I looked up, this man was G O N E y’all! Harry Houdini, now you see me now you don’t gone. Played me and beat me to the punch; I knew I should’ve left while he was in the bathroom.
I took some major L’s that night and among them was my cab fare that I never got. Damn.
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