I Had a Threesome in Barcelona
With two gorgeous Hungarians
Last month was Bob’s thirty-sixth birthday. He has a sort of fetish for numbers, so enduring six times six years on the planet was an event he wanted to celebrate with a BLAST.
It had to be in Europe because Bob “wanted a decadent party that would remind [him] of New Orleans.” And it had to be in Barcelona because of the Ramblas’ famous Six Bar Stops to Heaven.
I don’t want to blaspheme, but some Barcelonians call it “el Camino de la redención.” “The path of redemption” is for extreme party-goers. If they follow it with dedication and gratefulness, the legend says enlightenment awaits at the end.
For me, it was a threesome; with two gorgeous Hungarians.
As always with Bob, the party was fabulous. He had spent the last six weeks on-site, getting to know everybody and preparing for his birthday. Anywhere we went, people were shouting his name and telling us how happy they were to see Bob and his friends.
Those were the warmest welcomes I ever experienced. Even warmer than during my stay in Hungary.
We all loved it. We were ordering rounds and rounds of Bloody Bobbys (they’re like Marys but sweeter and stronger), and moving our bodies to the Spanish rhythms of the night. Needless to say, we felt a bit tipsy when the clock struck four.
We were at the sixth and last stop on our path, and I felt it was time to say goodbye. I was at the crest of my joy wave, and I wanted to leave with the best possible memory of this wonderful night of dancing, drinking, and celebrating with Bob.
Little did I know a joy-tsunami was waiting for me on a bench, two hundred feet from the exit of Bob’s cave of debauchery.
The Ramblas is never calm, but at 4-something AM, you could say it’s peaceful with bursts of laughter. Drunk people are usually loud.
I took three steps then lit a cigarette, the last in my pack, and, inhaling deeply, I savored the moment. For three seconds before her voice interrupted: “Disculpa, lindo, tienes fuego?”
I liked the way she thought, and I had a light, but something strange stopped me for a few beats. Looking at her and her friend sitting on the bench, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Not yet.
It wasn’t their revealing clothes. Their sexy dresses weren’t unusual for Barcelona. No, it was something else.
It was her accent.
“Hey! You’re from Hungary, right?” I asked in Hungarian, giving her my lighter.
“How do you know?” she replied in English.
I said I’d worked in Hungary for seven years and returned stateside a year ago after setting up the tax audit division for one of the big four auditing giants. It was a very demanding experience; working in a foreign environment forces you to question your values and world perspectives.
“Seven years? What made you stay so long?!”
I couldn’t resist hitting her with my favorite line. This question got old when I lived in Budapest so I’d invented the corniest answer possible.
“Palinka [the national drink] and beautiful women like you.”
They knew the compliment was cheap and corny, but they were also pleased. We all like to look good in the eyes of strangers, don’t we? And in their case, it was true. They were not only 4-AM-drunk-in-the-dark cute; I knew they would also be stunning in the daylight. That’s what I told them.
“No, really, you two are gorgeous. Your bodies under the sunlight must shine brighter than the Esztergom Basilica during Easter. [Religious references are always a good idea when charming beautiful women.] I’d love to wake up with you in my bed and have afternoon sex after —”
“After what?” they asked in unison.
“After we have 4 AM sex right now?”
And that’s how I had a threesome with two lovely Hungarian women in Barcelona.
Twice.
With thanks to Bob for inviting me to his birthday party. I owe you one, Bob. Here’s a short story of his I recently enjoyed:
Check out the full list of Bob short stories here:
Smillew is a Medium artist who writes about his threesomes, his Medium newsletter, and his Medium referral link. No need to follow him; he’ll show up in your feed.
