Claude and I were together several times over the course of a few days. We spent one full day and four evenings together. It was frustratingly comfortable and easy to be with him. I wished often there could be a way for us to practically explore a relationship together, but it is not to be.
Liam is young, and jet lag took its toll the first couple of days. He’s also a very particular eater and was not about to try the delights of Barcelona. While I already liked Claude, seeing him in “Dad mode” made me like him even more. He was patient with Liam and handled him very well. I had a peek into what he was like as a Dad and couldn’t help think how nice it would be to be around that more.
He was also very good with me. I’ve written before about how much I like a man who finds the right balance between taking my opinion into account and taking charge. Claude has it. Perhaps it was because he speaks a language I don’t, and I was in his city, but no matter the reason, I liked it.
He brought us snacks and drinks on the first evening. He made a picnic lunch for us on the second. He knew what drinks I like and ordered them when we sat down at a restaurant. He arranged a private wine tour and tasting at a local winery, and drove the car I rented. He took Liam to watch some street performers so I could finish a drink. Bottom line? He was terrific to be with.
Our first day was one of my best – a wine tour, outdoor picnic and nap in the quiet hills of Monserrat, and hanging out in a tiny beach lined with beach huts, the three of us playing in the water, and kisses snuck when Liam wasn’t looking.
Then there were the moments we shared just the two of us. That night we were together, coming back very late from our magical day, Liam fell asleep in the car. He slept there parked just outside the front door while we brought Claude’s things in from the car.
Claude and I took advantage of the moment to have some alone time on his couch. We kissed, he put his hand up my dress and as I encouraged him to go harder and use more fingers, the next thing I knew he was fully inside me with his whole hand and I squirted all over the couch cushions he shares with his ex-wife. He was awed.
The next two nights were even better.
The apartment I rented had two terraces. The lower had a good view, the higher had a 360-degree view of the city, as few buildings were higher. It was amazing. Each night I got Liam to sleep while Claude hung out on the lower terrace. Each night I brought pillows and a blanket and we climbed to the upper terrace.
I don’t think there have been many occasions where I’ve had orgasms under the stars. We kissed and talked and laughed. Shared stories about the breakdown of our marriages and our sexual exploration. We wrapped body parts around each other and kissed some more.
The first night on the terrace, Claude fisted me again. I clung to him as the orgasms rolled in waves and I stared up at the stars, thinking of how lucky I was to have such an experience. As much as I tried to stay quiet, I shared my orgasm with much of the gothic quarter, I’m sure.
Penetrative sex wasn’t going to be on the agenda; Claude said he was too tired for it to happen. But as I got my dress back on and put my ass against him, I could feel his hardness growing against me. The next thing I knew he had thrust into me from behind and I was filled with his girth.
It was so good. His hands on my hips, my hands steadying myself on the table in front of the bench we’d been seated on. I orgasmed more but he didn’t – fatigue eventually took over.
But we both wanted more.
The second night on the terrace we did much of the same, but Claude put me on my back on the table we’d discovered the night before was very sturdy. His hands worked their magic then he had sex on that table. Before long, we wanted him behind me again, and it’s how we ended our second night. Sex under the stars, quite literally on a roof in Barcelona.
Throughout those two nights, we spoke of how nice it was to spend time together. How neither of us expected anything to happen physically but were glad it had. Seeing each other after twenty years, and thinking about the conditions when we first met, made us think about what had changed and what had stayed the same.
I understand now how people can still be passionately in love with each other, and physically attracted, when they are much older. I will always, no matter how old he is, see the 23-year old I first met.
I just hope it’s not another twenty years before I see him again.