Fragment 6 - Spanish 201 - No Way Jose

During the winter of my second year in Spain, I became acquainted with several people who were in one way or another entangled in the web spun by my "cousin" Robert. Some of them I recall with affection.

I do not remember Jose-Luis at all fondly. He was without doubt the most pallid, listless and vapid guy I have ever shared a bed with. He was the son of wealthy parents who were apparently more than happy to have him live with his older (and equally wealthy) lover. The lover, Carlos, was often away on business and Robert had occasionally "looked after" Jose-Luis when he was alone and unamused.

It is ironic that Carlos trusted Robert to keep an eye on his protege because the reality was that Jose-Luis and Robert fucked like rabbits on Viagra in his absence! In time, Carlos came to trust me too. He was right to do so for I was never remotely tempted to make love to Jose-Luis. The chief emotions he engendered in me were pity and exasperation.

Jose-Luis was in his late-twenties. He was about 5'6" tall, of medium build and not particularly handsome, but he was always immaculately dressed. His father was a surgeon and his mother a full-time socialite who did her limited best to accommodate a very macho, homophobic husband and an effete, passive son. Their relationship was essentially financial - they gave him a most generous allowance in return for his distance from their lives and from scandal. Initially, I felt somewhat sorry for the guy but my well of sympathy dried up over time.

Taking over from Robert, I became this young man's occasional escort when he felt like dining out or attending a disco. Jose-Luis was too lazy and listless to dance - he just wanted to drink in a different setting - but I danced my arse off; sometimes alone, sometimes with a female tourist, and sometimes with another guy. I loved the glitter-ball, the strobe lights and the pounding rhythm - I was nineteen; I felt immortal on the dance floor. And then I took Jose-Luis home - he was invariably drunk - and put him to bed. He liked me to lie with him until he slept. He would fondle my dick and tell me how he wished I could fuck him but he was being faithful to Carlos!

Anyway, Jose-Luis never spilled one drop of cum in my presence - he was usually too drunk (and perhaps too lazy!) His small, uncut cock never even grew completely hard, but he liked to see me jerk myself off before he fell asleep. In the mornings I would make coffee and ring his mother to report that her son was safe and sound. Then I would leave him alone to drink his day away. He invariably pressed a wad of banknotes into my hand and, to my shame, I never resisted. He would say it was to cover the previous night's expenses but we both knew he had paid for everything anyway. I guess I rationalised that time spent with this vapid creature was worth every cent he carelessly bestowed upon me. To my credit, however, I did refuse the money his mother occasionally tried to give me for looking after her little boy.

Time spent with Jose-Luis wasn't entirely confined to discos, dining and drinking. Sometimes, when Carlos happened to have a few days free, I would be invited to join them for a weekend at their country house. On such weekends, Jose-Luis might occasionally summon the energy to swim a few laps of their pool while Carlos did his thing at the barbecue. We usually dined out, however, and I vividly recall one small restaurant where my friends were obviously frequent and valued customers.

The meal had finished long ago but Carlos and the proprietor lingered and chatted over liqueurs until every other diner was gone. Jose-Luis was, as usual, almost under the table and contributing little to the conversation, and I was growing restive because everyone was speaking Catalan, a language I was only just beginning to learn. Eventually the proprietor's wife emerged from the kitchen and joined us. A screen was set up and a 16mm movie was projected onto it. It was a pornograaphic movie - the first I had ever seen.

At nineteeen, I had never even seen a pornographic magazine, let alone a movie. I was beyond embarrassment. It was straight porn, so maybe our host was unaware of his clientele's proclivities. In an agony that was part-shame and part-excitement, I watched people fucking on screen - close-ups of cunts, cocks and balls - and I naturally developed an erection. It seemed to me that I was committing some huge social gaffe by cracking a hard-on in the presence of the proprietor's wife. No orgy ensued. The movie reached its flickering climax and we left. I heard the sounds of very active love-making from my friends' bedroom that night, and I envisaged Carlos pounding away at his lover's arse while that lover - poor insipid Jose-Luis - lay prone beneath him; emotionless and still - too drunk and too lazy to participate.

I had begun by feeling sorry for Jose-Luis but he resisted all attempts to breathe life into him. If I have done a poor job in conveying his character it is because he had none! Presumably Carlos was happy with this lifeless toy-boy - maybe necrophilia was his thing! - but, for me, it was like spending time with an empty shell, a husk. He was not yet thirty when I knew him. If the booze hasn't killed him, I dare say he is still somewhere in Spain as I write ... and still being listlessly semi-faithful to an older lover.

I had considered myself embarrassed enough on the night of the blue movie, but far worse was to come when I unexpectedly found myself up close and personal with another friend - Jose-Maria - on a weekend trip to his sister's holiday home several miles south of Barcelona.

I did not know Jose-Maria well and I knew nothing of his personal life. I knew he was filthy rich and the scion of an influential family. I knew that - like Javier - he represented old money, whereas Jose-Luis and his family were nouveau-riche, mere parvenus by comparison. I think I assumed that Jose-Maria was married with children, or maybe separated or divorced. I certainly detected no sign that he was interested in guys. He just seemed a super-friendly and charismatic guy.

I often ran into Jose-Maria when out dining and he usually had a gorgeous woman on his arm. Whether in casual gear or formal wear, he was always beautifully dressed. He had a powerful build and seemed to radiate good health and bonhomie. He had a beautiful smile and his perfect teeth and sparkling eyes - set in a splendidly tanned face - practically oozed geniality.

Anyway, Jose-Maria's elegant convertible one day passed me on the street; he tooted, waved and then pulled in to the kerb and engaged me in conversation. He was heading to his sister's holiday house at the weekend; there was a heavenly beach there; his nephews and nieces were great fun; his sister would love to meet an Australian; would I like to accompany him? Without hesitation I agreed to do so. I was in need of a relaxed weekend and I loved little kids. It sounded perfect.

Jose-Maria's English was impeccable and we chattered happily in that language on the way to his sister's house. Her English was also impeccable and she was just as poised and charming as her brother. I was shown to the room that Jose-Maria and I were to occupy. I had no misgivings whatsoever. Even If I had harboured any suspicions, twin beds seemed innocent enough.

I can recall stting on one of the beds and rummaging through my overnight bag for my swimsuit. When I looked up, Jose-Maria was there, trousers around his ankles and smiling broadly as he flourished a simply enormous cock before my startled eyes. Again, my first reaction was acute embarrassment. I had genuinely believed this was to be a pleasant weekend with a friend and his family - I had not detected any ulterior motive. I know I gestured feebly in the direction of the kitchen, but Jose-Maria merely shrugged as if to indicate that his sister was quite accustomed to stray Aussie teenagers being fucked close by while she prepared luncheon. He also voiced an intention to position his enormous cock-head some nine or ten inches inside my virginal arse.

No need to go into great detail about what followed. As politely as I could, I explained that Jose-Maria did not ring my bell and that I was not into being penetrated at any time. He was - perhaps justifiably - miffed and said that my "cousin" Robert did not play so hard to get. But I felt justifiably idignant too (and I mentally cursed Robert for having been quite so many different things to so many people and for not having warned me of this particular possibility). Looking back, maybe I should have at least offered to jerk him off. After all, it had been a long drive and he had obviously seen me as a guaranteed fuck-buddy. But I declined all intimate contact and, to the best of my recollection, we never did have lunch. Nor did we stay the night. Jose-Maria drove me back to Barcelona in stony silence. Once again I felt I had committed some awful blunder. He and I never spoke again.

So, in the space of a few months, I became somewhat of a treasure for two wealthy families who wanted their boys to be "baby-sat" occasionally. Conversely - even though inadvertently - I had become an unsophisticated cock-teaser so far as Jose-Maria was concerned.

If I had only thought to write this account at the time, I might have been credited with coining that immortal line - "no way Jose"!

Comments

Even our friend comically who seems to sail through life making all the right choices at the right time- actually blows it for once- no sorry fails to blow it for once!!! :)

Keep the Spanish segments coming mate- an absolute breath of fresh air for this jaded Aussie. By any chance do your middle years seem boring compared to your youth overseas and later in Oz? Be a hard act to improve on!!!
 
Comically my friend, you should write a book, or maybe a screenplay. Your escapades in Spain could fill an entire television season! And you certainly learned that great wealth does not guarantee great character. Wow.

Have you ever regretted being so quick with the "no way Jose"?
 
Interesting question - have I ever regretted being so quick with the "no way Jose"? - and the truth makes me realise how little one's values change over the years. I have no regrets about refusing to lie face down and allowing myself to be impaled, but I do still think I was somewhat discourteous and should have at least offered to jerk him off. I remain conflicted over the etiquette in such a situation! And I still blush at the memory!
 

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